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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a94f943 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67536 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67536) diff --git a/old/67536-0.txt b/old/67536-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2a09c4..0000000 --- a/old/67536-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5660 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Letters from Australia, by John -Martineau - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Letters from Australia - -Author: John Martineau - -Release Date: March 1, 2022 [eBook #67536] - -Language: English - -Produced by: MWS, Quentin Campbell and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM AUSTRALIA *** - - - Transcriber’s Note - -In the following transcription, italic text is denoted by _underscores_. -Small capitals in the original text have been transcribed as ALL -CAPITALS. - -See end of this document for details of corrections and other changes. - - ————————————— Start of Book ————————————— - - - - - AUSTRALIA. - - - - - LONDON: PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - AND PARLIAMENT STREET - - - - - LETTERS - - FROM - - AUSTRALIA. - - - BY - - JOHN MARTINEAU. - - - LONDON: - LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. - 1869. - - - - - PREFACE. - - —♢— - - -The following Letters were most of them written in Australia in 1867, -and were published in the _Spectator_ in the course of that and the -following year. Some are reprinted without alteration, others have been -added to and altered, and others are new. - -No attempt has been made to mould them into a continuous or complete -account either of the past history or present condition of the three -colonies which they endeavour to describe. Those of the colonies which -are old enough to possess a history have had it already written. And -as for their present state, it would be presumptuous to suppose that -fifteen months divided between them could have sufficed to enable -me, circumstanced as I was, to give anything like a complete account -of countries so large, or to obtain an accurate understanding of all -the various political questions and phenomena presented by them. The -organisation of school education, for instance, for which I am told -some of the Australian legislatures deserve credit, was a matter that -did not come under my notice, and important as this question is now -becoming, I am unable to import any evidence bearing upon it. - -In the absence of any exciting personal adventures there was no excuse -for writing a diary or personal narrative. I was not even stopped -by bushrangers; though had I wished it, and made my wishes known, -‘Thunderbolt’ would doubtless have been delighted to ‘stick up’ the -Scone and Singleton Mail the day I was in it, instead of two or three -days later, and again about a fortnight afterwards. - -But a single day, a single hour spent in a new-world colony dissipates -many delusions, and conveys many facts and ideas and impressions of it, -which no amount of reading or of second-hand information can altogether -supply, and which ought to confer the power of presenting a more vivid -and real picture than a mere compiler at a distance can give. - -These letters are therefore published, fragmentary as they are, for -what they are worth. They aim at being accurate as far as they go, even -at the expense of being in the last degree dull. - -I am afraid we English are indolent and apathetic upon political -questions, however important, unless there is the amusement and relish -of party-spirit or religious excitement to make them palatable. -Hitherto the want of interest taken by England in her colonies -has been as remarkable as it is unfortunate. Even the discovery of -gold, and all the strange and interesting scenes and events which it -produced, dispelled this want of interest only for a time. But some -day or other, it is to be hoped, we shall wake up to the significance -of the fact that tens of thousands of able-bodied paupers are being -supported in idleness, while _some_ at least of the colonies are, under -certain conditions, offering free passages to those who will go to -them. If we think about this fact and its surrounding circumstances, we -may reflect that to ignore such questions for the sake of discussing -a ‘free breakfast-table,’ or even an alteration of the franchise, is -rather like fiddling while Rome is burning. - -Sooner or later England may be forced to take a keener interest in -these matters. Pressing as is the need for emigration, to carry it out -effectually is not so easy a matter as appears at first sight. Colonial -questions and difficulties of the utmost delicacy and importance may -arise at any time. There is a floating population of gold-diggers in -Australia with few or no permanent interests in any one colony or -country. The discovery of a rich gold field in any new locality would -attract them from all quarters and make them a majority for the time -being of the population of the colony in which they are, and as such -the dictators of the policy of its government. What that policy might -chance to be no one can say, or how it might bear upon immigration. In -Victoria there appears, unfortunately, to be a growing disposition to -discourage it. It is to be hoped that if any necessity for critical -action should arise we may have a Colonial Secretary competent and -willing to take the straight course and do the right thing, to the -extent of such power as still remains to him, without too much -deference to uninstructed public opinion. - -I have seen more of Tasmania than of Victoria or New South Wales, -and have had access to more sources of information concerning it. On -account of its natural features it is the pleasantest, politically -it is at present the least important of the three. Victoria presents -the most characteristic example of the working of extreme democratic -institutions. There, if anywhere, owing to the exceptionally general -dispersion amongst all classes of men of intelligence, education, and -general experience, they have had a favourable field, and there, if one -may trust one’s eyes and ears and the opinion of those best qualified -to judge, they have produced the most deplorable results. Since -these letters were written, an article called ‘Democratic Government -in Victoria’ appeared in the _Westminster Review_ for April 1868, -evidently written by one who has a close acquaintance (to which I can -lay no claim) with the minutiæ of Victorian political life. That an -article so able, and describing a condition of things so startling and -so new to people in England, should not have attracted more attention -there, is a striking instance of our apathy to anything about the -colonies. In Melbourne it created such a sensation that there was a -rush to obtain the _Review_ at almost any price; it was reprinted, and -lectured upon, and became one of the chief topics of interest. Those -who care to know what the Legislature is like in Victoria, those who -would learn to what ultra-democratic institutions at any rate _may_ -tend, should read this article. What little my observation had enabled -me to say on the same subject before its appearance is now scarcely -worth reprinting, except as corroborative testimony (so far as it goes) -of a wholly independent observer (for I am ignorant even of the name of -the writer). ‘One result of the system which in Victoria seems to be a -necessary outcome of manhood suffrage’ (says the writer) - - ‘is to exclude any man of inconveniently refined temperament, of a - too fastidious intellect, and an oppressively severe independence of - opinion, from any part in the representation of the colony. At the - present time, it may be said, without any exaggeration, that no such - man has the smallest chance of being elected, however liberal may be - his opinions, and though he may be a staunch democrat, as democracy - is understood in Europe, by any of the larger constituencies of - Victoria, outside of the metropolis itself. The candidate who is - preferred is the man who has nothing—who is not independent, who is - not fastidious, who is not in any way particular or remarkable. Upon - such a blank the democracy is able to impress its will most fully.... - - ... ‘As a rule when two men are opposed to each other at an election, - in three out of four of the Victorian constituencies, the worse man, - the more ignorant, the less honest, and the more reckless is chosen.’ - (Pp. 496, 498.) - -That is to say, the system is not only the opposite of an aristocracy -of birth, wealth, talent, or merit, it is not only the repudiation -of hero-worship in any form—even of that lowest form of it, the -worship of the demagogue of the hour—but it is a deliberate attempt -to set up what the world has not yet had occasion even to coin a word -for—_Kakistocracy_, a Legislature composed of the meanest and worst, -chosen as such. - -Bad legislation is not the sole or the worst consequence of all this. -Far worse is the demoralization with which political life is infected. -The very idea of right and wrong, true and untrue, in politics, is -in danger of being lost sight of. _L’État c’est moi_, said Louis -Quatorze, and acted accordingly. _Ego sum Imperator Romanus et super -grammaticam_,[1] said an old German Emperor, when an imperfection in -his Latinity was hinted at. ‘The majority of the Colony is on our -side, and the will of the people is above all rules of right and -wrong,’ said (in effect) the Administration of Victoria during the -late ‘Darling-grant’ crisis, being too obviously and palpably in the -wrong to use any other kind of argument. And for the time being Louis -Quatorze was for many purposes the State, Henry the Fowler’s Latin -went uncorrected, and Mr. Higinbotham still bears sway by virtue of -his majority. But the Bourbon _régime_ is no more, the principles -of Latin Grammar remain in spite of any German Emperor, and the -doctrine of the infallibility of majorities may likewise in its turn -pass away. Sooner or later a democracy is likely to get weary of its -puppet delegates, and to revert to the instinct which prompts men to -follow strength rather than to drive weakness. The real fear is not -so much lest democracy should become stereotyped and permanent in its -present condition, as that the legislature, demoralised and weakened by -corruption, should some day fall a too easy prey to despotism exercised -by some strong unscrupulous hand, and aided perhaps by some one of the -colossal fortunes, such as are being accumulated there, and which their -possessors have as yet found few opportunities of spending. What form -of government can be so unstable, so easily overturned as a corrupt -ptochocracy? - -There are those who admitting all these evils refuse to connect them -essentially or in any degree with the extreme democratic nature of the -institutions of the colony. Political results are not traceable and -demonstrable like a proposition in Euclid; but it is useless to attempt -to ignore the broad fact pointed out in the review already quoted, -that legislation has become worse and corruption more rife as the -democratic element has been more and more developed. Objectionable as a -plutocracy is in theory, it is undeniable that the Legislative Council, -which is chosen by electors possessing freehold worth 1000_l._ or -100_l._ a year, or being lawyers, clergymen, &c., has been composed of -members superior beyond all comparison in character and ability to the -members of the House of Assembly which is chosen by manhood suffrage. -On the two most important questions of the day, the Darling grant -and protection, the Upper House has been steadily right—in Australia -outside the colony itself there is scarcely any difference of opinion -as to this—and the Lower House persistently wrong. Still less is it to -be denied that it is to the too great sensitiveness to public opinion, -to the ready and even avowed willingness of the administration to trim -its sails to every change of the popular wind, which is the direct -consequence of a democratic constitution without proper checks, that -many of the worst evils are attributable. - -Others, again, there are who avowedly profess kakistocratical -principles (if I may be excused for using the word) and say that to -place men of superior virtue or talent in a position of authority -is to divert and control the natural tendency of the mass, which -they consider to be always in the right direction; therefore that -it is better that public men should be nonentities than guides or -patterns. It is impossible to argue against such a position. One -can only take issue upon it, and, pointing to facts, say that the -tyranny of majorities over minorities is the form of tyranny most to -be feared at the present time, one which may become very prevalent -and very galling. At the last election in Victoria the candidates on -the Opposition side polled 28,888 votes against 32,728 polled by the -Ministerialist and popular party, that is, in the proportion of a -little more than seven to eight; yet the result was only 17 Opposition, -against 54 Ministerialist members.[2] The large minority did not -obtain anything like an adequate representation, and but for the still -greater preponderance in the opposite direction in the Upper House, -which the popular party seek to abolish, it would have seemed to the -world outside as if Victoria were all but unanimous in approving the -extraordinary course which the Administration was pursuing. - -Looking at these figures it is some small satisfaction to reflect that -there is a minority-clause in our English Reform Bill, which asserts, -however imperfectly, the principle of representation of minorities. But -however sound the principle may be, it will be hard to carry it out by -any mere electoral device. No one, for instance, can doubt that there -is a large and important and intelligent section of the community at -the present time which is really and not only in name Conservative, -and which sympathised with the seceders from the late Administration, -General Peel, Lord Carnarvon, and Lord Salisbury. Yet at the elections -just over not a single candidate raised his voice on their side, or -ventured to hint at an opinion that the suffrage might have been unduly -or unwisely extended. It is scarcely too much to say that the real -Conservatives are almost unrepresented in the present House of Commons. -It will be well if, as our constitution becomes more democratic, a -larger and larger proportion of those who are most disinterested and -best qualified to legislate or govern have not to make way, as has been -the case in Victoria, for those who are willing to accept the servitude -and the wages of the delegate. - -Nor is there any security that democratic opinions will be the only -ones for which constituencies will exact pledges. We have just seen -the most disinterested and unselfish friend that the working-men of -London possess in Parliament, in spite of his ‘advanced’ opinions, -constrained to withdraw from contesting a large constituency mainly on -account of his undiplomatically expressed preference for a just balance -over a false one, and in the face of probable defeat to make way for -nonentities who would preserve a prudent silence on such unpleasant -topics. - -All honour to those amongst our public men who hold popular opinions -honestly, and prove their honesty by the consistency of their private -lives. The danger is lest they should be swamped by those who having in -reality no such convictions profess them with the greater ostentation. -For the former are likely to be few in number. The genuine democrat, -the man who is readiest to sacrifice himself for the mass, does not in -general seek public life. - -Those whose convictions are different, are none the less bound in -honour to cling to them, because they involve (as far as can be -foreseen) inevitable and perpetual political ostracism. It is indeed -said, that whether an unmixed democracy be a blessing or not matters -little; for it is ordained for us—as is plain enough—sooner or later, -and all efforts can but stave it off for a time. It may be so. And it -_may_ be, at the same time, that it is coming because we have brought -it down upon ourselves, invoked our own wholesome punishment, as the -Jews did when they asked for a king to reign over them. It may be -thus, and thus only, that the _vox populi_ which demands democracy, -and the _vox Dei_ which grants and ordains it, are in harmony.[3] If -Samuel was not ashamed to be so far ‘behind the age’ as to tremble at -the decree, and to shudder at the thought of the sons and daughters of -Israel becoming slaves to an oriental despot, may not some of us be -justified in seeking at least to stave off some of the changes that -seem to be in store for us, and in shrinking with abhorrence from the -Nessus-robe of corruption which seems to be a prominent characteristic -of ultra-democracy? - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - I. A VOYAGE TO AUSTRALIA 1 - - II. MELBOURNE 13 - - III. BALLARAT 26 - - IV. SQUATTING IN VICTORIA 35 - - V. POLITICS IN VICTORIA 50 - - VI. TASMANIA 59 - - VII. TASMANIA (_continued_) 71 - - VIII. TASMANIA (_continued_) 85 - - IX. SYDNEY AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD 101 - - X. AN INSTITUTION OF NEW SOUTH WALES 115 - - XI. POLITICAL DIFFICULTIES OF NEW SOUTH WALES 121 - - XII. ARISTOCRACY AND KAKISTOCRACY 132 - - XIII. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 149 - - XIV. HOME AGAIN 162 - - XV. CHANGE OF AIR 180 - - XVI. A PLEA FOR AUSTRALIAN LOYALTY 192 - - XVII. LOYALTY AND CYNICISM 200 - - - - - I. - - A VOYAGE TO AUSTRALIA. - - -Some people who have been to the Antipodes and back will tell you that -a voyage to Australia in a good sailing ship is a very pleasant way of -spending three months. Seen through the halo of distance it may seem -so; certainly it leaves pleasant and amusing reminiscences behind. -But I doubt if one person in twenty on board our excellent ship the -_Mercia_, provided as she was with every comfort, or on board any -other ship whatsoever, if cross-examined _during_ the voyage, would -have persisted that he was thoroughly enjoying it. From the first, -a resigned rather than a cheerful look is to be noticed among the -passengers. Even those who at starting were loudest in their praises of -a sea life spoke in the same breath of finding means, and slender means -they seemed, of relieving its tedium and monotony. - -We left Plymouth in the fag end of a gale. The second day, just about -the place where the _London_ is supposed to have gone down, a large -piece of timber was floating high out of the water. We passed within -twenty yards of it, and I then saw it was the keel of a vessel, of -three or four hundred tons, capsized, and drifting bottom upwards. -There was still a good deal of swell, and it would have been dangerous -as well as useless to lower a boat; so we passed it almost in silence, -and in a few minutes it was out of sight astern. - -For a week or so the cuddy and even the poop were almost deserted. By -degrees the population emerged from their cabins like rabbits from -their burrows, to the number of forty or more, so that there was -scarcely room to sit at table. Most of the passengers are Australians, -‘old chums,’ who have crossed the Line more than once, and are going -back, either because the east winds of the old country last too long -and are too keen after an Australian sun, or because they have come to -an end of their holiday. Even among second and third class passengers -this is so, for the attraction homewards is still strong, and it is -common enough, it seems, for clerks and persons holding mercantile -situations to get a year’s leave to go home. There are one or two -brides, and about a dozen others, not yet Australian, some of them -more or less invalids, taking the voyage for pure sea air’s sake, and -hoping by following the sun across the Line to enjoy three summers in -succession. Six children and a nurse abide in one stern-cabin; the -other has been fitted up luxuriously and artistically with cushions, -pictures, and loaded book-shelves, by a man who apparently intends -to pass the time in literary retirement in the bosom of his family. -Alas! in the stern there is motion on the calmest day. Not an hour -is it possible to write or read there without experiencing certain -premonitory symptoms necessitating an adjournment to the fresh air on -deck. - -It is not easy to be alone or to be industrious at any time on board -ship. But it is not till you enter the tropics that exertion of body -or mind seems to become impossible. It is then that your limbs almost -refuse to move, your eyes to see, and your brains to think. The deck is -strewn all day with slumbering forms. No plank, no hen-coop redolent -of unpleasant odours, is so hard as to repel sleep. It is seldom that -a sail needs setting or taking in. Even the barometer almost refuses -to move, and influenced (it is said) only by the tide, sinks and rises -almost inappreciably with lazy regularity. Nor is there often any -excitement to arouse us. Twice only throughout the voyage is land seen: -the rough jagged outline of Madeira, and the Desertas, rising from a -smooth sheet of blue and purple water, and standing out against the -glowing colours of the setting sun; and a few days later Palma, hiding -the Peak of Teneriffe. We hope in vain to see, later on, Trinidad (the -southern, not the West Indian, Trinidad) and Tristan da Cunha. There -are two months in which the horizon is straight with a straightness -abhorred on land by nature, such as even the deserts of Africa do not -afford. Can it be that so much of the globe is always to be a dreary -waste of waters? Is it all needed to make wind and rain, and to be a -purifier of the land? Or when earth is overpeopled, will a new creation -spring out of the sea? At any rate, there is change of some kind going -on. We are unpleasantly made aware of this by a sudden cessation of -wind, with calms, squalls, and foul wind, off the Canaries, in what -should be the very heart of the trade-winds—the trades, whose blast -used to be as steady and uniform as the course of the sun itself. A -great change has occurred, says the captain ruefully, even in his time -(and he is not forty,) in their regularity. If they go on at this -rate, there may be none at all in a century, and not Maury himself can -foresee the consequences of that. - -On the other hand, the luck is with us when we come to the much-dreaded -belt of calms, which lies near the equator, shifting north and south of -it, according to the time of year, but always more to the north than -to the south of it. Often are ships detained there for days, and even -weeks, drenched in tropical rain, which makes it necessary to keep the -skylights shut, to the great discomfort of everyone, except the ducks -and geese, which are for the only time during the voyage released -from their narrow coops, and put in possession of unlimited water -and free range of the poop. For two or three weeks the thermometer -stands at from 80° to 84°, not varying perceptibly day or night. In -the upper-deck cabins there is plenty of ventilation—you may make them -a race-course of draughts,—but below it is intolerable. It is unsafe -to sleep on deck at night, for the air is charged with moisture. -Portmanteaux, bags, hats, coats, and boots cover themselves with -furry coats of green and blue mould. It is not unhealthy, but it is -enervating and wearisome, except for five minutes soon after sunrise, -when in the intervals of washing the decks the hose is turned upon you, -as you stand thinking the warm air clothing enough. There is not much -to look at but the flying-fish, as they rise in flocks, frightened from -under the ship’s bows, and tumble in again with a splash a hundred -yards off; and at night the brilliant phosphorescence which lights up -the white foam in the vessel’s wake. For two days amongst the Madeiras -turtles floated by asleep, but they were too wary to be caught. - -It was a relief when one day, south of Trinidad, the air grew suddenly -cooler, the flying-fish disappeared, and the first Cape-pigeon, and the -first albatross, then Cape-geese, Cape-hens, and I know not what other -birds, gave us hope that our voyage was half over, and that in ten days -we might be in the longitude of the Cape. From hence till land was -sighted some of these birds were always in sight of the ship. Sometimes -four and five albatrosses at once were swooping about astern, some of -them showing marks of having been struck with shot. It was useless to -shoot at them, for they would have been lost; but we caught two with -baited hooks, one measuring nine feet from wing to wing, and, unmindful -of the ‘Ancient Mariner,’ slew and stuffed them. - -I paid my footing on the forecastle, and hoped to see something of the -crew. But one is apt to be in the way there, and it is difficult to -know much of the sailors. Few realise—though it is a trite saying—how -completely seafaring men are a race apart. Their habits, ideas, wants, -dangers, and hardships are almost unknown to landsmen. Seeing with -one’s own eyes how much hardship even now, and in the best appointed -ships, occasionally falls to the lot of sailors, makes one aghast -at the bare thought of what the miseries of a long voyage must have -been in the old days before lime-juice and ventilation, and when the -death or prostration of two-thirds of a crew from scurvy was quite a -common occurrence. One begins to comprehend with amazement how the old -discoverers must have had the souls of giants to sail month after month -over unknown oceans and along unmapped coasts. Nor do landsmen realise -how much loss of life there is at sea in merchant-ships, and how large -a proportion of it is from preventable causes: how ships sail and are -never heard of, and because there are no facts to make a story of, -the papers scarcely mention it. Few but those in the merchant-service -know how often, in order to save the expense of keeping ships idle -in harbour, they are, after being fully insured, hurried to sea in -utterly unseaworthy condition, with stores hastily put on board and so -ill stowed that nothing is to be found when it is wanted, with crews -engaged only the day before sailing, and consequently undisciplined, -unknown to their officers, and frequently ill and useless from the -effects of dissipation on shore, from the effects of which they have -not had time to recover.[4] If the _London_ belonged (as I believe it -did) to an exceptionally well-managed line of ships, how must it be -with ships on ill-managed lines? It is true that a merchant-captain has -it very much in its power to make his crew comfortable or miserable, -and may often be a tyrant if he chooses. But it is also true that -he is often very much at the mercy of his crew, amongst whom the -chances are that he has at least one or two unruly and perhaps almost -savage specimens. And with a new and strange crew every voyage, it -is extremely difficult for him to establish and maintain discipline. -He has very little power to punish, and in fact always does so at -the risk of an action for assault at the end of the voyage. He often -_dares_ not put a mutinous man in irons because he cannot spare him; -and it is sometimes only by sheer physical strength, by the knowledge -that he could and would, if necessary, knock down any man in the ship -who defied him, that he can maintain his authority. I have known a -sailor after being some days in irons for mutinous conduct, say by way -of an apology for his behaviour that hitherto he had always sailed -in small ships, and had been accustomed, if he had a difference with -his captain, to ‘have it out’ with him on the poop. A few days later -the same man when drunk flew at the captain like a tiger, and had -to be taken below and fastened to the main-deck like a wild beast, -spread-eagle fashion, to keep him quiet. - -Of the captain and officers, on the other hand, we see a great deal. -Nothing can exceed their patience in listening to anything, reasonable -or unreasonable, which the passengers have to say or to complain of, -and in answering any questions, sensible or foolish. It is a hard, -wearing, anxious life for them, requiring nerve, temper, and power of -endurance. A ship often has only two responsible officers, so that -each has at least half of every night for his watch on deck (in all -weathers be it remembered) in addition to his work by day. Yet for -this a chief officer gets the miserable pittance of 7_l._ a month, and -a second mate and doctor 5_l._ a month, sometimes even less, ceasing -immediately at the end of the voyage. One could wish that the great -shipowners, wealthy as they must be, were a little more liberal in this -respect. The butcher, on the other hand, is a man of capital, and comes -furnished with a crowd of bulldogs, canary-birds, thrushes, and other -animals, which bring him in a handsome profit at the end of the voyage. - -The _Mercia_ is a sailing-ship, as all but two of the Australian ships -are, and has no auxiliary screw. It is a real pleasure, for once, to -be out of the way of steam-power, to be entirely at the mercy of winds -and waves, and dependent on good old-fashioned seamanship. If a voyage -lasts longer without steam, it is far more interesting and pleasant. -There is an interest in seeing the sails worked, in pulling at a rope -now and then. There is a little excitement in watching for a change -of wind, in welcoming the moment in bad weather when the sensitive -aneroid ceases falling and takes a turn, in anticipating a good or a -bad day’s run, in tracing the sometimes tortuous course on the chart, -in speculating on the chance of an island being sighted or passed -three or four hundred miles off. And in the morning there is something -to be said about what the ship has done in the night; perhaps she has -unexpectedly been put on the other tack, whereby somebody who had gone -to sleep with his window open got a sea into his cabin. Or a sail has -been split, or a spar carried away by a squall. All this is better at -any rate than the everlasting monotonous throb of a steamer’s screw, -the uniform day’s run which you can predict within twenty knots, the -even sameness of the course drawn like a straight line across the -ocean, and the smoke and smells of steam and oil (it is castor-oil) of -the engines. And as for beauty, to stand by the wheel on the poop of -a large ship, when the wind is light and fair and the studding-sails -are set, projecting like wings over the ship’s sides, and to look up -amongst the towering curves of canvas and the maze of ropes and spars, -is a very beautiful sight, a sight which tourists do not often see -nowadays, and which in a generation or two, when the world is still -more stifled with smoke and steam, may not be to be seen by anyone. - -It is well if a voyage passes without quarrels among the passengers. In -such close quarters, one must be inoffensive indeed to offend nobody. -If you are cordial friends with a fat or unwashed man who has sat next -you at three meals every day for three months, and with a loud voice -insisted on being helped first to everything, your disposition must -be amiable indeed. Except the relation between the two Lords Justices -of the Court of Chancery, compared with which the bond of matrimony -itself is a trifle, I know none so trying as close juxtaposition on -board ship. You are at the mercy of the noisiest, the least scrupulous, -and the most officious. If a man drinks, he will drink twice as much at -sea, where he has nothing else to do. And you are lucky if you escape -having one man at least among the passengers who drinks to excess. - -However, eating, sleeping, or talking, we are always going; that is -the great satisfaction. The average daily run greatly increases as we -get south. Between 40° and 45° south latitude there are no more light -or foul winds for a ship sailing east, and the course is straight, at -the rate of about 250 knots a day. But it gets colder and colder, till -one day, just as we are considering the chances of being carried to the -south of Prince Edward’s and Kerguelen Islands, the wind changes from -north or north-west to south or south-west. It is equally fair for us, -but we suddenly experience what it is to have a temperature of 40°, or -lower, snow and hail falling, draughts as usual, and no possibility -of a fire. It generally blows half a gale, sometimes a whole one. You -cannot walk the deck to warm your feet, but must hold on fast, and take -your chance of a drenching from one of the heavy seas, which from time -to time strike the ship abeam, or on the quarter, with a noise like a -ten-pound shot out of a gun. I cannot pretend to guess the height of -the waves, but they are beyond comparison bigger than any I ever saw on -the English coast. Standing on the poop, eighteen or twenty feet above -the water, I have often seen the sun, when near its setting, _through_ -the clear green crest of a wave. For four or five days it is so misty -and overcast that no observation of the sun can be obtained, and our -position can be inferred only by ‘dead reckoning.’ Some seaweed has -been seen. The currents are uncertain hereabouts, and even the position -of the islands has, till within the last few years, been incorrectly -laid down in the charts. So that the captain looks more harassed than -usual, and does not leave the deck for long at a time, till at last we -run into finer weather and see the sun again, and ascertain that we -have been making a straight course in exactly the right direction and -at a glorious rate. - -And now the air gets daily clearer and drier; we are getting into the -Australian climate. At last the day comes for sighting land. For an -hour or more it is doubtful, then it is certain, that land is in sight. -I put the day down as a red-letter day in my life, as we pass within -a mile or two of Cape Otway, and see the red sandy cliffs, the pale -green grass close to the water’s edge, the lighthouse and telegraph -station above, and behind, the ranges of thick impenetrable bush, huge -forest trees, with their dark foliage standing out against the sky, -a landscape as wild and unsullied by the hand of man as though it -were a thousand miles from a settlement. One longs to be landed there -and then, but the breeze is fair and strong, and though at sunset we -take in all sail but topsails, we rush on, and are forced to heave-to -before midnight, pitching and rolling in the swell, lest we get beyond -Port Phillip Heads in the night. Soon after midnight all are astir, -for there is a rumour that the pilot is coming. A large star near the -horizon is to be seen. It moves, gets larger; it is not a star; the -moon’s rays fall upon something indistinct on the waves beneath it, and -shining white as silver a little schooner with a light at her mast-head -shoots under the stern. The pilot climbs on board. Three more hours’ -pitching, and the long low Heads are left astern of us, and we are in -smooth water. As the Melbourne folk are sitting down to their Sunday’s -breakfast, and those in England are going to bed for their Saturday -night’s rest, our anchor drops in Hobson’s Bay, a mile or more from -the long, low, sandy coast. Fronting us is Sandridge, the port of -Melbourne; to the right, as far as the eye can see, dark green foliage, -broken by clusters of houses and bare spaces of sand; and to the left, -a marshy, sandy plain, bounded by the distant ranges, purple as the -hills of Gascony or the Campagna. - - - - - II. - - MELBOURNE. - - -‘All I can see is my own, and all I can’t see is my son’s,’ was the -complacent remark, it is said, of John Batman, as he stood, some -thirty-two years ago, looking over a vast tract of country which he -thought he had bought as his own freehold from the aborigines for a -few blankets and tomahawks. That tract of country comprised the ground -whereon now stands Melbourne, nearly if not quite, the largest city in -the southern half of the globe; in importance, actual or prospective, -in the first rank of British cities. - -Truly English it looks as yet, at first sight at any rate. After -a long, wearisome voyage, the first impression is almost one of -disappointment at having come so far only to see sights and hear sounds -so familiar. Long before you land, the familiar ugly staring letters, -with which the British shopkeeper delights to deface his dwelling, are -visible on the waterside houses. A commonplace railway-train, with two -classes to choose between, not one only, as might have been expected in -a land of democracy, receives you at the shore end of the long wooden -pier. You are set down in ten minutes in Melbourne itself, amongst -cars, shops, hotels, and all the external appliances of old-world -civilisation. But this first impression soon passes away. Already -before entering the city itself, a white plain, marshy in winter, dried -up and arid in summer, has been passed over. It is dotted over with -little one-storied wooden houses, of which the verandah seems to be the -most important part, and which are more like the mushroom erections -on the sand _dunes_ of Arcachon in the _landes_ of Gascony than any -habitation on English soil. And I suppose there is no spot in Melbourne -where a man waking up, as from an enchanted sleep, and ignorant where -he was, could for a moment fancy he was in England. - -From the railway station you enter at once into the heart of the town. -You pass into fine, straight, generally sloping streets, which will -compare favourably with those of any English provincial town for width, -for the number of well-filled showy shop-windows, and for the ambitious -and costly architecture of the public buildings, hotels, and especially -banks, which last are always numerous and conspicuous in Australian -towns. First in importance among them is Collins Street, the Regent -Street of Melbourne. Parallel, and scarcely inferior in rank to it, is -Bourke Street, and at right angles to these are Elizabeth Street and -four or five more which may be said to come next in dignity. These and -several narrower ones, most of which are quiet and dignified and full -of merchants’ offices, make up the most important part of Melbourne -proper, as distinguished from the suburbs, each of which, though an -integral part of the capital, has a sort of separate existence of its -own, and bears a relation to it more resembling that of Kensington or -Hampstead to London, than that of Marylebone or Mayfair. This central -part of the town is the original and old part, if it may be so called -in comparison to the rest. It was planned out long before Melbourne -was a populous or important city, in the days when Governors ruled as -well as reigned, and was systematically laid out in alternately broad -and narrow roadways. It was intended that only the broad ones should -have houses built along them, the narrow ones being meant only for -back entrances to the gardens and outbuildings which were to occupy -the intervening space. But both have now long since been turned into -streets of contiguous houses. - -The lowness of the houses strikes a new comer from England as a feature -which makes the general appearance of the city different from anything -at home. Even in the heart of it, where space is so valuable that -one might have expected it would be more economised, the houses have -generally only one story above the ground floor, and in the suburbs -often not even that. This is made all the more conspicuous by the width -of the streets. These are not paved but are well macadamized, and are -now in good order in all weathers; but on each side of them you have -to cross by little bridges, if you are on foot, or if you are driving, -to bump down into and through broad, deep, paved gutters, or rather -water-courses full of running water, which exhibit nature not yet quite -submissive to civilization. After heavy rain, torrents of water rush -down them to such an extent that boats are sometimes required in some -of the lower streets. There is a tradition that before Flinders Street -was macadamized the mud was so deep there that a baby jolted out of a -car was drowned in a rut before it could be picked up. In the principal -thoroughfares the traffic on the foot-pavement is considerable enough, -and indicates a large and busy population. But the roadway looks -rather empty. In an afternoon you may see a good many buggies and -a few English-looking carriages driving about; but there is never -anything approaching to a continuous string of vehicles of any kind in -motion. There are plenty of street-cars, or jingles as they are called, -which are like Irish cars with the seat turned breadthways instead of -lengthways, and with a covering to keep off sun and rain. Here and -there are to be seen stands of drays waiting to be hired, as if the -population were in a chronic state of change of domicile. - -The wind and blinding sun make one wish that the streets were a -little less straight, both to add to their picturesqueness, and so as -to afford a little more shelter. Whether the keen wind in winter or -the hot wind of summer be blowing, the lee-side of a wall is equally -desirable. In summer after a day or two of parching hot wind from -the north, the south wind will suddenly come into conflict with it, -producing what is called a ‘Southerly Buster’—a whirlwind full of dust, -filling the air and darkening the sky, and resulting always in the -victory of the south wind, and in a fall of temperature of twenty or -thirty degrees in less than half an hour. But if curved streets are in -some respects desirable, it must not be at the expense of a peculiar -and most attractive feature in those of Melbourne, namely, that many of -them have at each end a vista of open sky or distant mountain ranges, -which in the clear dry air are always blue and distinct, and give a -sense of space and freedom not common in the midst of large cities. - -The respectable Briton everywhere clings to his black hat and black -coat with tenacity. But the summer heat of Australia is too much for -him, and white hats, or felt ones with stiff falling brim, and thick -white pugrees give a semi-Indian look to the population. Those who have -to do with horses, whether stockmen from the bush or livery-stable -helpers, are particularly unlike their type in England. Instead of -being the neatest and most closely buttoned and closely shaved of men, -they will perhaps wear no coat or waistcoat, a purple flannel shirt, -white linen inexpressibles, dirty unpolished jack-boots, a cabbage-tree -hat, and a long beard. Follow one of them into the great horse-yard in -Bourke Street, the Melbourne Tattersall’s. The broken horses are first -sold, very much as they might be at Aldridge’s. Then the auctioneer -goes to an inner part of the yard, where in large pens, strongly built -of timber and six or seven feet high, is a ‘mob’ of a hundred or more -four-year-old unbroken colts huddled together and as wild as hawks. -Bidders climb up on to the railings and examine them as well as they -can from there, for it is no easy matter to go amongst them or to -distinguish one from the rest. The auctioneer puts them up for sale -separately, and somehow or other, with much cracking of whips, each -as his turn comes is driven out from among the rest into a separate -pen. Probably the best of the mob had been picked out previously, for -the commonest price at which I heard them knocked down was seventeen -shillings and sixpence a-piece, and it is difficult to believe that, -cheap as horses are in Australia, a good colt could be worth so little -as that. - -The space covered by Melbourne and its suburbs is, compared with -an English or European town, out of all proportion large for the -population. Short suburban railways, running all through and about -it, make it easy for people to live at some distance from where their -work is. Between one suburb and another there are often dreary spaces -of bare ground, destitute of grass, and dusty or muddy according to -the season. The population in some places is so sparse that you may -have to wait some minutes if you want to ask your way of a passer-by. -There is a so-called street, quite unknown to fame, rejoicing in the -name of Hoddle Street (why Hoddle, and who or what Hoddle was, I have -no idea), which cannot be much less, I should think, than three miles -long. One end of it passes through a large, poorly-built suburb, called -Collingwood; it then emerges into open ground and passes through some -meadows by the river-side, which in a flood are sometimes many feet -deep in water. For want of a bridge it (or rather its continuity or -identity) crosses the river in a punt, and, still being Hoddle Street, -forms part of South Yarra, a locality which disputes with Toorak the -honour of being the Belgravia or Mayfair of Melbourne. Emerging from -South Yarra it enters a sandy flat near the sea-shore, and ends its -career (I believe, for I never followed it so far) somewhere in the -pleasant sea-side suburb of St. Kilda. - -The foreign element in Melbourne is very small. There are few Germans -and fewer French. Only the Chinese are noticeable for their numbers. -One meets them in the streets looking quite at home there, not begging, -as in Europe, but prosperous and industrious. It is said that there are -twenty thousand Chinamen in Victoria alone. One narrow street in the -middle of Melbourne is inhabited almost exclusively by them, and is -conspicuous with quaint blue and gold signboards covered with Chinese -characters, looking like a large bit of tea-caddy, the proprietor’s -name being put up in English letters underneath, for the information -of outer barbarians. Sun-kum-on is a very conspicuous name on one of -the wharves at Sydney. Public opinion, which was very hostile to the -Chinese at one time, seems to have rather turned in their favour. In -New South Wales there was an Act of the Legislature excluding them, but -it has lately been repealed. They do work which other people despise, -and by their abstemious and parsimonious habits will slowly get rich -on gold-fields abandoned by other diggers as worked out. As market -gardeners, they have done a real service to the Melbourne people. -Formerly there were few if any vegetables to be had there in summer. It -was supposed to be too dry and too hot to raise them. But by elaborate -irrigation, unstinted spade labour, and abundant application of manure, -the Chinese raise crop after crop of vegetables at all seasons, and -in all soils. I saw two acres of ground in one of the suburbs which -had been left uncultivated, and was altogether unprofitable, till five -Chinamen rented it for 25_l._ a year, and now they contrive to raise -300_l._ worth of garden produce yearly. They are a race living quite -apart. They do not bring their wives with them from China; there are -not more than three or four Chinese women in all Victoria, it is said. -And the poorest of the poor of other races, probably with good reason -(as one’s nose suggests), will not live with them, much less intermarry -with them. - -The great and ever-present charm of Melbourne consists in the -exceptionally vigorous and active appearance of its population. This -is due simply to the fact that the great bulk of it was formed by the -almost simultaneous immigration of men who are not yet grown old. -As yet there are comparatively few old people to be seen about; and -everybody seems hard at work and able to work. An immense majority of -the grown-up men and women were born and bred in England. Many whom one -meets about the streets look as if they might have a history of their -own, full of interest and strange adventure, none perhaps more than the -car-drivers, an occupation followed by some who have been used to a -very different position in life. I never drove in a car without asking -all I dared, and speculating as to what the reason was in each case -for wandering to the Antipodes. Physically the Melbourne people are -likely to be above the average; for, in the early days of the colony at -least, the sick and weakly in constitution did not think of committing -themselves to the then uncertain hardships and discomforts of a -voyage and a new country. A certain degree of force of character too -is probable in those who have had resolution enough to break through -home ties and cast their lot in another hemisphere. Hence also in some -respects the tie with the old country is a closer and firmer one than -in most of the other Australian colonies. There is quite a crowd and an -excitement about the post office for some time before the English mail -closes. Little stalls are erected by newspaper-sellers, provided with -pen, ink, and cover, to direct and despatch the newspapers to friends -at home, and a brisk trade they seem to do. Home associations and -reminiscences underlie and prevail over more recent ones. Even the word -‘colonial’ is often used to express disparagement; ‘colonial manners,’ -for instance, is now and then employed as a synonym for roughness or -rudeness. - -In nothing is the energy and enterprise of the Melbourne people more -conspicuous than in their public works. Lately, indeed, either money -has not been so plentiful or else the desire of building has been -less ardent, for many buildings have been left unfinished and in -very unsightly plight. But the Post-office _is_ finished, and is a -really magnificent building in its way. On the Legislative Council -and Assembly Chambers an incredible amount of pains and money must -have been expended, though perhaps with hardly adequate result. -The architecture of the public buildings generally, if not always -successful or in the best taste, is on the whole at least as good as -in the average of public buildings at home; though it is disappointing -to find that new requirements of climate have failed to inspire any -originality of style or design, such as one sees growing up naturally -and spontaneously in private houses, whether suburban villas or -station-houses in the bush. - -But the institutions of the Museum, the Public Library, the -Acclimatisation Gardens, and the Botanical Gardens, are above all cavil -and beyond all praise. The last two in particular, aided as they are -by a favourable climate, promise before many years are over to equal -anything of the kind anywhere. Last and greatest of all is the great -Yan-Yean Reservoir, which from twenty miles off pours its streams into -the baths, fountains, gardens, and dusty streets of the thirsty city. -Every house has its water-meter, and the price is only a shilling for -a thousand gallons. Without this generous supply the suburbs would in -summer be a Sahara, with a few dismal, almost leafless, gum-trees, -instead of being brightened by pleasant gardens, enriched with English -as well as semi-tropical flowers and fruits. The stiff clay, which is a -quagmire in winter, dries up in summer like a sun-baked brick. Garden -lawns are with difficulty kept green by Yan-Yean water turned on, not -at intervals, but continuously through a perforated pipe. Yet the grass -two or three feet off is quite dry. The water escapes through the first -crack and is gone. - -On the other hand, one soon experiences that a Circumlocution-Office is -a Victorian quite as much as a home institution. Goods of all kinds, -including passengers’ luggage, are brought up by railway from each -ship as it arrives, and discharged into a vast shed at the Melbourne -railway station; and as there is now a tariff on most manufactured -articles, nothing is allowed to leave the shed till it has been -more or less inspected. Many hours did it take to select my various -needles from this great bundle of hay, but it was not till my two -saddles turned up that any difficulties were made about releasing -them. On seeing them, a very young clerk in a cloth cap at a high -desk referred me to a white-haired superior official, who shook his -head and refused to let the saddles pass without an order from the -commander-in-chief of the shed, who inhabits an office at its extreme -end. Alas! the commander-in-chief, though the most courteous and -obliging of men (as were indeed all the officials with whom I had to do -that day), pronounced that I must ‘pass an entry’—I think that is the -expression—at the Custom-house. So to the Custom-house, a quarter of a -mile off—the ugliest erection that ever was built or left half-built—I -trudged. Going into a large hall I addressed a clerk, who gave me into -the care of another clerk, who took me downstairs, and introduced me -to a Custom-house agent, and then the real business began. Dictating -to him, I made an affirmation to the effect that the saddles were old -and for my own personal use, which affirmation having been, after one -or two unsuccessful attempts, made in precise accordance with the facts -of the case and duly signed, Custom-house agent, affirmation, and I -walked upstairs to the anteroom, and at length to the sanctum of some -high official, who after gently cross-examining me vouchsafed to append -his initials, whereupon Custom-house agent, affirmation, and I walked -downstairs again to the place whence we had come. I suppose I looked a -little weary—it was a piping hot day—at this stage of the proceedings, -for the Custom-house agent reassuringly remarked that it would not -take more than a quarter of an hour more, a statement hardly verified -by the result. The next step was for the Custom-house agent to make a -memorandum of the nature of my affirmation, to make a number of copies -thereof (I did not count how many, but there must have been at least -five), and to despatch them by messengers, whither or wherefore I know -not, nor why so many, unless they were tentative, in hopes of procuring -a favourable response from one out of many possible sources. Anyhow, -a sealed letter did at last arrive from somewhere; it was handed to -me; I left the building, made for the shed, and delivered it to the -commander-in-chief, who wrote and gave me another missive to the -white-haired clerk, who made it all right with the young clerk in the -cap, who gave me a pass-ticket, which I gave to my drayman, who gave it -to the porter at the yard gate, who allowed the dray to pass, and I and -my saddles were free. - - - - - III. - - BALLARAT. - - -Two hours’ railway travelling will take you from Melbourne to Geelong, -over rich, flat, grassy plains, with scarcely a tree, nothing but -ugly posts and rails to break their outline. In summer these plains -must be parched and dreary beyond description; but it is May now, and -the autumn rains have made them green as an emerald and pleasant for -the eye to rest on. Geelong is scarcely worth stopping at, unless to -speculate upon why it is not Melbourne, and Melbourne it, as might -have been the case—so superior in many ways is its situation—if its -harbour bar had been cut through a few years sooner. During two -more hours’ railway you rise gradually, and emerge from a forest -of ill-grown, scrubby gums, upon a large, undulating, irregular -amphitheatre, surrounded by small hills. Seventeen years ago the -locality was scarcely ever visited except by blacks, for it was covered -with bush and unproductive. Now it is Ballarat, the fourth city in -Australia. A strange, irregular, uncouth, human ant-hill it is, with -its miscellaneous cells above, and its galleries beneath the ground. -You may walk two miles and more, from east to west or from north to -south, without getting fairly out of the town. The houses are of all -sorts, shapes, and sizes, generally not contiguous, and the majority -consisting of a ground-floor only. Most conspicuous are the hotels, -and the banks, glorying in stone fronts and plate glass, as befits -their dignity; for are they not suckers at the fountainhead, drawing -the golden stream which, joining other rills, waters the whole world -of commerce? Next door to one of these is perhaps a common log-hut, or -a two-roomed cottage of corrugated iron, or a large shop stocked till -its miscellaneous contents overflow through doors and windows, and are -hung on hooks and pegs outside. Next to this, perhaps, and still in -the heart of the town, may be an acre or two of ground covered with -disgorged gravel and mud, in the midst of which, and at one end of a -great mound twenty or thirty feet high, puffs and sobs a steam engine, -as it works the shaft and puddles the produce of the gold mine beneath. -It is easy to gain admittance to a gold mine, at least if the manager -is satisfied that you are not a spy, and are not interested in the -‘claim’ which lies nearest this one, and with which it probably is, -or will be as a matter of course, engaged in litigation as soon as -the workings of either approach the boundary between them. Boundaries -above ground are productive enough of disputes, but they are nothing to -boundaries under ground. The richest harvest reaped by the Victorian -bar is that of mining; cases and mining Appeals. But there is not much -to see in a mine. Down below I suppose it is not so very different -from a coal mine (for the gold is far too minute in quantity to be -visible), and not much cleaner. The operations at the surface consist -simply in stirring and washing the mud and gravel with water in various -ways till the gold settles at the bottom. But a good big panfull of -some two thousand pounds’ worth of the clean yellow gold is a pretty -thing to see for once. - -But the strangest place in Ballarat is an unsightly piece of ground -on the slope of a hill, many acres in extent, which has been turned -over, heaped up, scooped out, drained, flooded, undermined, perforated, -shored up with timber, sifted, scarified, and otherwise tormented as -Mother Earth never was tormented before. It is the remains of the old -surface diggings, almost (if not quite) the first discovered, and the -richest in all Australia, but long since worked out, and now deserted -and dismal. It is a pity that no scribbling digger kept a journal -during the first year or two after gold was found. Generally speaking, -I believe the stories which are told of those days are strictly true. -The reality was so strange, so different from any other condition -of circumstances conceivable in this century, the crowds suddenly -collected were so miscellaneous, and at first so entirely emancipated -from all rule, precedent, or prejudice, that there was enough that was -original and ludicrous without having recourse to exaggeration and -caricature. I believe it is a fact, and no fiction, that a successful -digger had a gold collar made for his dog, that he, like his master, -might put aside his working dress and be magnificent for the rest -of his days. It is a fact that another rode through Ballarat with -his horse shod with gold. To keep a carriage and pair was the great -ambition of a digger’s wife. There was a woman near Colac who lived -in a common log-hut, with nothing but mud for floor, and a couple -of stools and a bench or two for furniture. Outside the hut was the -carriage, under a tarpaulin, and a pair of horses grazed near. For a -year or more she was constantly to be seen on the road to Geelong. Her -son drove, and she sat inside in silks and satins gorgeously arrayed, a -short pipe in her mouth, and the gin bottle reposing on the cushion by -her side. - -One day at Ballarat a man rushed up to the police magistrate, his face -livid, and speechless with excitement, so that the magistrate began to -think he had just committed or witnessed a murder. At last he found -words to express himself. He had come upon a nugget so big he could -scarcely carry it, and dared not bring it in alone. Two or three of the -police went back with him to help him, and he brought it in in triumph, -followed by a procession of diggers. And indeed it _was_ a nugget. It -was about as big as a leg of mutton, and much the same shape, white -lumps of quartz sticking to it like so much fat. It weighed a hundred -and thirty-five pounds, and he was offered 5,000_l._ for it on the -spot. He refused to sell it, and took it home to England to exhibit -it. But it proved to be a nugget of expensive habits, and at last was -sold to pay for its keep and lodging, and the finder ended, as so many -finders of great nuggets ended, in poverty and wretchedness, and even -madness. - -At Ararat, fifty-six miles beyond Ballarat, the gold-fields remain just -as they were left by the diggers; and the claims are more in working -order and less broken in than at Ballarat. Ararat is now a thriving -township, containing perhaps 2,000 inhabitants. Twelve years ago there -were 65,000 people there, digging or dealing with diggers. When the -‘rush’ began the stream of people and drays was continuous, the noses -of each team of bullocks close to the dray in front of them, for the -whole fifty-six miles, along a track on which, though the district is -a thriving one, you will now hardly meet anything on wheels once in -ten miles. Centuries may pass without obliterating the traces of these -diggings. There is a broad belt of ground, two or three miles long, -pierced by thousands of shafts thirty or forty feet apart, with mounds -of white sand and gravel beside them. Most of the shafts are oval, four -or five feet long, and about two or three wide. Little holes are cut -alternately in the nearest pair of opposite sides, to act as steps for -going up and down. Each shaft is neatly and cleanly cut, and as intact -as if freshly made. All are deserted now; only a few Chinamen remain, -laboriously gathering up the crumbs that are left, and contriving to -live and save money where an Englishman could not subsist. - -There were comparatively few men, gentle or simple, in Victoria when -gold was first found who did not try their luck at digging for a -greater or less time. Nevertheless, though so short a time has elapsed, -it is hard to get a true conception of the state of things during -the height of the gold fever. No two men had the same experience. -One will tell you that nothing could be more quiet and peaceable and -orderly than a concourse of men upon a newly found gold-field; that -property and life were safe, and every man so eagerly and excitedly -absorbed in his work as scarcely to take his eyes off it while daylight -lasted, and impatient of nothing except interruption. Another will -say he never stirred after sunset without an open knife in his hand, -and will tell you (no doubt with truth) that hundreds, and even -thousands, disappeared, whether murdered for their gold, drowned in -a swollen creek, or lost and starved in the bush, no one knew or -cared to enquire; for in all that crowd who would miss a lonely and -friendless man? Not that the police, as far as their scanty numbers -permitted, were otherwise than most efficient. In general they were on -the best of terms with the diggers; and only in one serious instance, -the diggers at Ballarat, considering themselves aggrieved, made armed -resistance to the authorities. They formed an entrenched camp and were -not dispersed till as many as a hundred of their number had been killed -or severely wounded. If money came fast, it had to be spent fast too. -Actual famine was with difficulty averted during the first winter. The -country round was drained of supplies; provisions went up to fabulous -prices. The diggers could not eat their gold; and it cost 100_l._ a ton -to bring up flour from Melbourne, for the road was a quagmire like that -from Balaklava to Sebastopol, and ninety miles long instead of seven. -The carcases of the dead draught bullocks were alone sufficient to -indicate the track to one if not to two of the senses. - -But it is a mistake to suppose that gold-digging has been throughout a -gambling occupation, offering a few prizes and many blanks, and pursued -only by reckless men. The big nuggets soon came to an end, and on the -other hand experience was gained, and digging became in the long run -a tolerably certain and steady occupation, at which a strong man able -to bear heat and cold, wet and fatigue, could in general make a pretty -steady income, though not often a large one. Many have risen from -comparative poverty to great wealth in Victoria, a few by owning sheep -stations, many by steady devotion to business, some without any real -exertion of body or mind, by the sheer accident of lucky speculations; -but I have never heard of a really wealthy man who became so by digging -for gold. Yet some have gone on persistently year after year, in New -South Wales, Victoria, and New Zealand, when one field was worked -out travelling to another. For there was a strong fascination in the -freedom and romance of the life. I have seen the pale face of an -overworked waiter at a large hotel light up with enthusiasm as he spoke -of it. He had left England and come to Australia ill of consumption, -as a last chance to save his life. Idleness did not mend him, he said, -so off he went with the rest to the diggings. The first day his limbs -would hardly bear him, but each day he got a little stronger, till at -the end of four years he had saved 700_l._ and his life. He had been in -very different climates—in New South Wales, Victoria, and Otago—but, -strange to say, heat, cold, and wet only helped to cure him, and he -never even caught cold, he said, as long as he eschewed a house and was -faithful to canvas. Alas! in an unlucky hour he invested his savings -in township land; the place did not succeed, and in a few weeks his -investment was not worth as many farthings as he had given pounds for -it. And it was too late to begin again. - -It is over now, the wonderful age of gold, as well as the primitive -pastoral age which preceded it. In place of diggers swarming like bees, -dignified steam-engines draw the gold from the earth, not for those -who toil with pick and spade, but chiefly for that throng of mining -brokers, and idle, disreputable speculators who crowd the pavement -of the Ballarat ‘Corner.’ Few make money by investing in mines. Of -those who do, most have secret information; for there is much trickery -mixed up with operations in mining shares, and hundreds have lost -by them the savings of more prosperous times. Victoria is no longer -the place for men with few possessions beyond youth and energy, and -with an antipathy to a high stool in a merchant’s office. Let not any -brilliant or laborious young Templar doubt but that Melbourne and -Ballarat solicitors, like English ones, have sons and sons-in-law, and -that there, as at Westminster, interest and connexion are useful, if -not essential, handmaids to brains and industry. Romance is at an end; -capital has reasserted its sway, and pride of purse is triumphant. It -needs must be so; and doubtless, on the whole, mankind gains. But it is -difficult to love humanity in the abstract, and tastes and convictions -will quarrel sometimes. - - - - - IV. - - SQUATTING IN VICTORIA. - - -It sometimes happens that the commonest circumstances of life in -distant countries are scarcely realised at home because they are -too much matter of every-day experience to be spoken about. I doubt -whether people in England appreciate the fact that the greater part -of Australia is, in its natural state, for eight or nine months in -the year almost entirely destitute of water. To a new comer it sounds -strange to hear an up-country Squatter remark that he has no water on -his run yet, but he hopes he soon shall have. Although more rain falls -in Victoria than in most parts of England during the year, there are -hardly any springs, and few streams except the large rivers, which are -few and far between, which run for any considerable portion of the -year. Why the rain runs off so fast is not thoroughly explained, but -its seems there is an incrustation of the subsoil which prevents the -rain from penetrating to any depth. The creeks, as they are called, -leave water-holes, some of which never dry up through the summer; but -these, also, are far between; and so generally the first business -of a Squatter in new country is to construct tanks to receive the -rain-water from the roofs of his house and outbuildings, which is his -drinking-water, and very good water it is; and the second is to build a -dam from six to twenty feet high across the nearest hollow—for almost -every hollow is a water-course after heavy rain—and in this way to make -a reservoir containing water enough for his sheep to drink all the year -round, and be washed in at shearing time. A dam is as much an essential -appendage to a station as a barn is to a farmyard. - -Probably it is this absence of moisture in the ground, and consequently -in the air also, which makes distant objects in Victoria so -marvellously clear, and gives such peculiarly brilliant colour to the -landscape where the conformation of the ground admits of a distant -view. I never saw such brilliant colouring anywhere in Europe. It is -the one redeeming feature, without which the scenery, except in the -mountainous districts, would be tame and dreary enough. The country -is seldom undulating, as in Tasmania. The trees are generally small, -stunted, and diseased, except on the ranges; the plains are almost -destitute of any trees at all, and vegetation is scanty, except in -early spring-time. There is a great plain extending for nearly a -hundred miles westward of Geelong almost without a break, so flat and -(unlike the fen country in England) so destitute of trees or other -objects high enough to break the line of the horizon, that at the -height of a dozen feet from the ground you may any day see a hill—and -not a high hill either—full forty-five miles distant as the crow flies, -looking not dim and misty, but a clearly defined blue patch upon the -horizon. - -To most people there is something intolerably desolate and repulsive -in such a plain. Even to those who are most fond of open country it -must be depressing under certain circumstances, notably during a -rainy fortnight in winter, or on a hot-wind day in summer. But there -is something indescribably grand and enjoyable in the continual -contemplation of so vast a landscape. When the sun is high it is an -expanse of turf, green in winter and brown in summer; but as the -afternoon advances, earth and sky become faintly purple, and crimson, -and golden; the colours deepen from half-hour to half-hour, till the -sun sinks into its bed of turf in a gorgeous blaze of splendour. -There are several shallow lakes upon the plain, some very large, and -most of them salt. Coming suddenly upon one of them one evening from -behind some little sand-hills which concealed it, the margin for some -hundred yards in width dry and coated with mud and brine, no human -being or habitation visible, and the full brilliance of the setting sun -lighting it up, the scene was (except for the absence of mountains in -the distance) singularly like the landscape in Holman Hunt’s picture -of the ‘Scape-Goat.’ It is a pity that this kind of scenery is spoiled -by cultivation. Cut up into little pieces, a plain loses its vastness, -while its monotony is increased. - -It is a pleasant life to have a station up the country (but not too -far up), at least for a man not over gregarious in his habits and -tastes, and whose mind is not set on those pleasures of town life -which seem to possess the greatest attractions for the majority of -mankind. It may be ten or twenty miles to the next station, or nearest -doctor, or post-office, or church: and the owner of the next station -may happen to be illiterate and uncongenial, the doctor generally -intoxicated when sent for, and the post-mistress so lonely and dull -that it is a necessity to her, poor thing! to read your letters and -communicate their contents to her friends. But nobody thinks much of -distance; there are plenty of horses, good or bad, and by going a -little further afield you may be better suited. Then people journeying -up the country drop in occasionally for a dinner and a night’s lodging. -If the visitor is at all presentable he is entertained with the best -the house affords. If he is a stock driver, or shepherd, or labourer, -he is entertained at the overseer’s or the men’s hut. There are rather -too many such visitors sometimes; nobody is ever turned away, and there -are idle fellows pretending to be in search of work and refusing it -when it is offered them, who go from station to station living upon -the Squatters. The house is generally comfortable enough nowadays, -usually built partly of bluestone, partly of wooden slabs, and with -only a ground floor, a single sitting-room, and a great deal of broad -verandah, which answers the purpose of a sitting-room in fine weather. -People are beginning to take pains with their gardens, and there is -generally a fair supply of vegetables to help down the mutton. There is -always good bread, and damper has long since vanished from civilised -regions. Near the house is the overseer’s cottage, and a little way -off is the men’s hut. The latter is usually only a log hut, made of -boards; it contains two rooms, a day-room and a dormitory, and looks -comfortless enough. The furniture is a bench or two, a table, and -perhaps a wooden arm-chair; and in the dormitory the only beds are -wooden bunks, like ships’ berths, built against the wall in two tiers. -The unmarried men about the station live here, perhaps half a dozen in -all. The head of the establishment is the cook, whose business it is to -keep the hut and prepare the food. In the old, rough days he needed to -be a man able to hold his own and preserve discipline, and if necessary -to prove himself the better man against anyone who complained of the -dinner. He is generally butcher and baker to the whole station. At a -short distance off is the wool-shed, the most important and imposing -building of all, where the sheep are shorn and the wool packed. And -there are a few outlying shepherd’s huts, each with its hut-keeper -(unless the shepherd is married), whose only business is to cook and -keep house for the shepherd, and occasionally lend a hand with the -sheep pens. They all get good wages. The shepherds get from 40_l._ to -50_l._ a year, and the hutkeepers from 30_l._ to 40_l._, and they get a -sheep a week between two, and the other usual rations. Strange to say, -the men do not seem to care for vegetables, and seldom take the trouble -to make a garden, though they might have as much garden ground as they -liked for nothing. - -There is not often very much to do except for two or three weeks at -shearing time, when everything is once fairly set going. The toils -and pleasures of stock-riding on cattle stations, of which we read in -_Geoffrey Hamlyn_, are almost at an end in Victoria. For, alas! it is -found more economical to divide the runs into paddocks by wire fences, -and so to employ fewer shepherds or stock riders. And so, though you -can see the place you want to ride to, or at any rate know in which -direction to go, you must ask your way among the fences almost as if -they were rows of houses. The black-fellows, and the wild dogs, and -(except in thickly-wooded districts, where they are as numerous as -ever) even the kangaroos are gone, which is an unmixed advantage for -the Squatter, if not for idle and inquisitive friends who stay with -him. Near a forest you may see scudding about little white clouds, -which, on closer inspection, are discovered to be composed of white -cockatoos; but their sentinel is generally too wary to let you get -within shot, though you may get near enough to see them put up their -yellow crests in disgust. Of sport there is not often much to be had. -There may be some rabbits or some quail. On the plains there are -sometimes bustards, commonly called wild turkeys, and you may get a -shot at one with a rifle now and then, especially if you _drive_ after -them, instead of walking or riding, for they do not expect hostilities -from anything on wheels. Opossums are killed by thousands for their -skins, generally by hunting them up trees after dark and shooting them -there. But there is no sport to be got out of them; one might as well -shoot a lamb, albeit indignant with them for scampering about the roof -all night. I saw a large brown one one day looking at me from a bough -about ten feet off, apparently only waiting for an introduction to -offer me his paw to shake. I tossed a bit of clay on to his back to -make him move. He only moved a yard higher up, and taking hold with one -paw of a bough of the next tree, looked down with a countenance of mild -reproof, as if meekly and generously affording me the opportunity to -apologize before unwillingly quitting my society. - -But a station is no bed of roses for a Squatter’s wife. Servants are -difficult to get and to keep up the country, and especially when there -are young children there is a good deal of work to be done by somebody. -Then perhaps the shepherds’ wives will not condescend to do any -washing, and there is no one else to do it. What with hot winds, hard -work, solitude and anxiety, a wife transplanted from English luxury to -the bush has a hard life of it, and too soon begins to look old and -worn. It is almost impossible for her to get any attention paid to the -little luxuries and prettinesses of life. Perhaps the cook persists in -throwing the sheep’s bones into a great heap just outside the garden -gate; or nobody can be spared to bury the cow that died in the home -paddock, and her white skeleton has been lying there for months. To be -sure, a hot wind is an effectual deodoriser, and there is only the look -of the thing to be considered; but that is something, and I don’t know -anything that strikes a person fresh from home more than the number of -carcases he sees by the roadside everywhere. - -The Squatter party has been for some years powerless in the -Legislature. No Squatter has much chance of being elected for the -House of Assembly, and is derisively _bleated_ at on the hustings if -he offers himself as a candidate. Even in England I observe that a -writer speaks contemptuously about their ‘great ideal’ being to ‘cover -the continent with sheep-walks.’ Surely, as regards all but a small -proportion of the continent, this has been, and for some years to come -will be, the ideal of every reasonable person, whether Squatter or not. - -What else is to be done with the soil? Somewhere about 300,000 acres, -which collected together would be equivalent in extent to a block of -land a little more than twenty-one miles square, ought surely to grow -enough wheat to feed the whole population of Victoria. For a quarter of -wheat for each head of population, which is, I believe, the ordinary -allowance in England, is probably much more than is consumed in -Australia, where meat is eaten in abundance by the labouring classes. -And eighteen bushels to the acre is about the average in Tasmania, -where there is certainly no superabundance of capital or skill employed -in farming; if Victoria cannot farm as well as that, it had better -import its corn. Something must of course be added for other crops, but -this amounts to comparatively little, for wheat may on most of the land -be grown year after year without any rotation of crops, and with the -help of subsoil ploughing without any present prospect of exhaustion. -It must be remembered that meat is in England chiefly a product of -agriculture, whereas in Australia it is a pastoral product. There -would be no use in growing turnips or mangold (even if the climate -admitted of it, which I believe it does not) in a country where there -is no winter, and where stock will fatten on pasture alone. In South -Australia large quantities of wheat have been grown for exportation -chiefly to the other colonies, and also in one or two years to England. -But in Victoria, till inland communication is very much more developed, -there is no probability of its being exported to any extent; indeed I -never heard of its being even suggested. - -But even if this rough estimate be altogether too small, suppose that -a million acres, equivalent in extent to a tract of country nearly -forty miles square, or even double that quantity, were required, -it would still be but a small portion of the area of Victoria. And -Victoria is by far the most thickly inhabited colony. Its population -is in the ratio of about seven to the square mile. As for the rest of -the continent—which the Squatters are found fault with for wishing to -‘cover with sheep-walks’—New South Wales contains nearly a square mile -for every inhabitant, and South Australia about two and a half square -miles. In England and Wales there is less than two _acres_. In speaking -of the Squatters, it is only fair to remember that the colony owes -its origin and existence simply and solely to them. It was they who -opened up the country and made it habitable. In their hands the land, -if it does not produce much, steadily improves in quality. No doubt at -first they got the use of it for a merely nominal payment, but nobody -else wanted it at any price, and so they paid the market value. As it -become more valuable, this payment was from time to time increased. -Occasionally their stations were sold, and they had the power, if they -had the means, of purchasing them and becoming the absolute owners of -what they had hitherto held on an uncertain tenure. If they had not the -means, they had to submit to be turned out. All this was fair enough. -Where land is plentiful enough, everyone should have the opportunity -of purchasing it. It may be that at one time it was put up too slowly -for the requirements of the growing population; but if so, the reaction -was extreme. A cry was got up and fostered for party purposes that -everybody ought to be a landowner; placards were posted along every -road, stump orators vociferated, and there was a mania for getting -land. From that time legislation has been unfairly directed against -them. Instead of the simple plan of putting up Crown land in small -blocks to the highest bidder, which in the long run would have ensured -its getting into the hands of the man who would get the most out of -it, elaborate Land Acts have been passed, drawn with the intention of -preventing the Squatter from purchasing land at any price, even on his -own run, and of parcelling his run out to different purchasers without -any regard to his rights of previous occupation. - -Shortly, the procedure is as follows. The district is surveyed, and -blocks of a square mile each (640 acres) mapped out. Notice is -given that the blocks will be put up, and numbers apply for them, -the applicants hoping, if they are lucky enough to get one, to make -a good bargain of it somehow, though they may not have a shilling of -capital to farm it with. Amongst the rest, the Squatter on whose run -the blocks are of course applies; and as amongst so many applicants his -chance is small, he often increases it by engaging any one he can to -make application ostensibly on his own account, but in fact as dummy -for _him_, and with a view to his transfer of his interest to him -should he obtain a selection. A ballot takes place on the appointed -day, and the successful applicants select each his block. The Selector -(or ‘Cockatoo,’ as he is nicknamed) thereupon obtains a seven years’ -lease of his 640 acres on the following terms. He is to pay a rent -of one shilling per acre every half-year, in advance, to expend on -improvements not less than 1_l._ per acre within three years, and to -build a habitation on the land, and reside on it during his tenancy. He -also covenants not to alienate. If he has fulfilled these conditions, -he has the option of purchasing the freehold at the end of three years -at 1_l._ per acre. If he does so, therefore, he will have expended -altogether 1,472_l._ besides what his stock, &c., may have cost him. - -Clearly, therefore, a Selector without any capital is practically a -man ‘without ostensible means of subsistence.’ Yet the chance of the -ballot brings many such, and how are they to live, except by stealing -the Squatter’s sheep and preying upon him in various petty ways? Often -a Selector may be a former servant of his discharged for misconduct, -who now has ample means of revenge. These additional annoyances are -often worse than the original one of being deprived of large portions -taken out of the midst of his best pasture. But in any case he is put -to the expense of fencing in the new comer, or else letting his stock -stray and feed all over the run. This alone costs about 55_l._ a mile, -or 220_l._ for each selected block. And so he is often driven to throw -up his run altogether, or to endeavour to evade the Act and buy out -the Selector at all hazards. And the hazards are very great, for by -the terms of his lease the Selector is interdicted from alienating -his interest in his land, so that any bargain he may make to do so is -legally void; and thus, if he happens to be a rogue, he may take the -price of his block from the Squatter, and at the end of the three years -refuse to give up the land to him, and snap his fingers at him. And -even if the Selector who sells be an honest man and anxious to carry -out the bargain fairly, the Squatter still runs a great risk; for -though he can perform the requisite conditions of paying the rent and -expending the 1_l._ per acre in improvements (probably a sheer waste of -money to him) he cannot fulfil the other condition of residing on the -block itself—for he cannot live in two or three places at once—and must -trust to the forbearance of the government inspector to overlook this -non-performance, otherwise the lease and the title at the end of the -three years will be forfeited and his whole expenditure thrown away. - -And so, as time goes on, the Squatter of moderate means is being -(prematurely and needlessly, as it seems) ‘civilised’ off the face of -Victoria. Large blocks of land have been bought up by a few of the more -fortunate among them, and more often by rich merchants or speculators -from the towns. Politically, as well as socially, it may well be -doubted whether it is not a change for the worse. The old-fashioned -Squatters were many of them sons of English gentlemen, with less wealth -but with more education, knowledge of the world, and refinement, than -those who are supplanting them, and they fell naturally into a position -and duties in some degree resembling those of country gentlemen at -home. As for the ‘Cockatoos,’ they have little, if anything, to be -grateful for to their patrons. They have been tempted to embark in an -undertaking in which three out of four have small chance of succeeding -honestly. It is only in the neighbourhood of towns and markets that -they are likely to do well. Already, though the last Act has hardly -been three years in operation, a deputation of them has been to the -government, declaring their inability to pay their purchase-money and -petitioning for an abatement. - -I am very far from pretending to possess a complete knowledge and -understanding of the land-questions and the land-laws in Victoria. -But the present system seems so patently and obviously bad that he -who runs may read that it is so. The possibility of obtaining land by -the chance of the ballot is unsettling and demoralising, just as in a -greater degree a public lottery is. Its tendency is to hand over the -soil, not to skilled and thrifty agriculturists, but to speculators or -to idle men who have failed at other trades, and who try their luck -at the ballot on the chance of making a good bargain somehow or other -if they draw a lucky number. The blocks are so large, require so much -capital, and are often at such a distance from a market, that they are -quite unsuitable for a peasant agriculturist, who can seldom obtain -any labour but his own and that of his children. The discretionary -power, which in certain cases is vested in the Executive, of selling -or not selling land on particular runs, gives it an immense and -undue influence, and is liable to lead, as experience has shown, to -gross corruption amongst members of the Assembly and others who have -influence with the Ministers for the time being. Eventually the system -will, it is believed, after great waste of labour, and after ruining -a number of Squatters, throw the land into the hands of the monster -capitalists far more certainly than if a much less extent, favourably -situated, had been put up to auction in much smaller blocks. In the -meantime, the class of agriculturists, or quasi-agriculturists, has -been artificially increased so as to be out of proportion to the rest -of the population. And as one political fault, unrepented of, soon -necessitates another, a protective duty on corn has been imposed, which -helps, as far as it goes, to prop up the land laws. - -But neither Protection nor an artificial land system will do the -agriculturists much good in the end, not even if a clause could be -introduced and enforced obliging everybody to eat two quarters of wheat -a year instead of one. A few good big ships full of immigrants do more -for them than all the land laws in the world. For what they want is -more mouths for them to feed. And in the long run new mouths will go -most to countries where, _cæteris paribus_, industry and labour are -left, not only unfettered but unpampered, to find their own level in -their own way. - -The present land laws savour of unjust class legislation, of tyranny -of the majority over the minority. Yet so little confidence is placed -in the present Legislative Assembly, that it is expected that any -change which may be made will be for the worse. Democracy has made a -bad beginning in Australia. At this rate, what with bad legislation and -the far worse and more fatal vice of corruption, it will be well if the -word ‘democracy’ does not in course of time earn for itself in this -part of the world a _special_ sense as derogatory as that which the -word ‘tyranny’ did in Greece of old. - - - - - V. - - POLITICS IN VICTORIA. - - -Strange to say, it is a fact notorious in Victoria that a proportion -of the Legislative Assembly, sufficient to sway its vote on almost any -measure that may be introduced, is altogether corrupt and amenable -to bribes! How long this has been so I know not, or how long it has -been a matter of notoriety; but attention has been particularly drawn -in this direction lately by the scandalous disclosures made in the -case of _Sands_ v. _Armstrong_, which was tried in May. The plaintiff -was a member of the Assembly, against whom charges were made in a -local paper of so serious a nature that he was compelled to bring an -action for libel, to endeavour to re-establish his character. The -trial lasted several days, and resulted in a verdict of a farthing -damages—practically, of course, a verdict for the defendant—as nearly -all the charges against the plaintiff were fully made out. The -following extracts from a leading article in the _Argus_ of May 6, -1867, describe his operations:— - - For years past there has been a prevalent belief that rank jobbery - and corruption infested our governing system, and from time to time - circumstances came to light which confirmed and strengthened this - belief. But outside political circles the facts were not known with - certainty, while as to the extent of the evil the general public - could not even form a guess. At last we have got at the truth, so far - as concerns the operations of one honourable member. For the first - time the veil has been completely lifted, and the life of a jobbing - legislator fully exposed to view. And the reality is immeasurably - worse than any but the initiated could have imagined. Scheme and - trick and dodge are proved to have been the constant practice of - the person whose conduct has been investigated, his public position - a mere agency by which he could work out, by means of wholesale - corruption, sordid plans of personal aggrandizement.... Using his - influence with the Government, and pretending to greater influence - than we are willing to believe they ever permitted him to exercise, - he seems to have meddled in every kind of public business transacted - in his locality, and turned it to account for his own pecuniary gain. - Nothing was above—nothing beneath him. If a poor labouring man wanted - a bit of land under the 42nd Clause, it was ten shillings to Sands; - if there was a returning officer to be appointed, that was an affair - of 30_l._ if it could be managed. Circumstances rendered one piece - of local preferment particularly desirable during the currency of - his operations, by reason of its great profitableness, and that he - apparently tried to keep in his own hands altogether, appointing a - dummy official representative (though on this part of the case the - evidence is necessarily incomplete, the only persons fully cognizant - of the facts having been accomplices in the transaction). But there - is no doubt of his having professed to be able to influence the - administration of the law.... Is the Attorney-General to be worked by - such as Sands? No one will for a moment believe so; but his claiming - to possess such influence shows how hardened he had become through - long immunity from exposure and punishment.... He has a newspaper, - and he has also a public-house, both of which seem to have served as - tolls for the collection of corruption-money. But in aid of these he - established an agency far more efficient than either. This was in - the form of a testimonial to himself, and the subscription lists - being kept open for a year and a half were a constant appeal to the - generosity of all who had anything to gain from the favour of the - Government or to fear from its displeasure. - -If the case of Sands had been a solitary and exceptional one, it -would not have called for remark. But his course of conduct seems to -have been singular chiefly in having been found out. Opinions differ -slightly as to the number of Members, who, if not quite as bad as -Sands, nevertheless lay themselves out for bribes outside the House, -and are ready to sell their votes in the House for a sufficient -consideration. The _Argus_ (if I recollect right) reckons about ten -or twelve. But nobody, except a Member or two in a parliamentary and -perfunctory way in the House, seriously attempts to deny the existence -of such a set, most of whom are as notorious as if they occupied a -special bench to themselves. Nevertheless, I was surprised to hear a -well informed and moderate man, not specially connected with politics, -express his opinion that almost any measure might be carried through -the House for the sum of 15,000_l._ judiciously expended in bribes. -I repeated this with some hesitation, lest he should be sensitive to -such a reflection on his colleagues, to a Member. He answered by coolly -counting up the purchasable Members on his fingers, and concluded that -it could be done for a less sum, remarking that a clever, unscrupulous -man, possessing great wealth and popular manners, might obtain almost -unlimited power in the Assembly. Nor is the blame of this disgraceful -state of things to be laid specially to the charge of the present -Ministry. They have indeed been content to let things go on in the old -groove, and in the matter of the Sands scandal have not appeared very -anxious to promote an investigation. But their personal integrity, and, -on the whole, their ability, is well spoken of by men of all parties. -Even the Opposition, opposed as it is to their ultra-democratic and -protectionist policy, confess that their places could not well be -supplied, should they have to quit office, and that a change is more -likely to be for the worse than for the better. - -Jobbing in Government patronage is one source of corruption. Under -the O’Shanassy Government (in some respects considered to have been -one of the best) it is said to have been almost impossible for any -but Irish and Roman Catholics to obtain any place. Even the porters -on the railways completed at that time are Irish almost to a man. But -this is comparatively a small matter. It is the Lands Office which is -the focus of corruption, and it is the unsettled state of the land -laws and regulations which affords such opportunities for roguery. For -instance, under a clause of the Land Act of 1865, any person residing -near the gold-fields may, subject to the sanction of the Lands Office, -select and purchase, at a fixed price, any portion of Crown land within -a certain distance, not exceeding a certain quantity. This clause the -Minister of Lands has seen fit to extend to Crown lands (which are in -general Squatters’ runs) at any distance from the gold-fields—in fact, -almost anywhere. Other clauses leave a somewhat similar discretion -with the Minister. Thus, he continually has in his own hands the -power of selling or refusing to sell Crown land, and practically he -generally gives or withholds his sanction in each instance according to -the recommendation of the Member for the district, or, if this Member -happens not to be a supporter of the Government, of some other who is. -Thus, a Squatter may sometimes be deprived of a block of land in the -middle of his run, if he prove troublesome to a Government candidate. -It is unnecessary to point out what a temptation this offers to a needy -Member, and how it almost forces the Squatter to illegal practices for -his own protection. I once heard a Squatter, an honourable and much -respected man, say that, wanting to purchase a part of his own run -which was Crown land, he had sent orders to a land agent at Melbourne -to apply for it for him, and that his instructions were to obtain it, -if possible without, but if not possible by, the help of _parliamentary -influence_. I innocently asked him what parliamentary influence meant. -He answered simply that it meant a fee of 5_l._ to one or more members -to urge and support the application. - -People seem to resign themselves to the existence of a corrupt House -of Assembly as to a necessary evil, a thing inevitable. I have heard -the free-trade party blamed for not _buying_, as it is said they -easily might have done, sufficient support to enable them to establish -their policy. Such an opinion sounds horrible enough in the mouth -of an honourable man. It reminds one of the purchase of the Irish -Parliament in 1800, which few will say was not necessary to be done, -and which was done by honest men, though it would puzzle a casuist to -justify it. The judge who tried the case of _Sands_ v. _Armstrong_, -in his summing-up declared that the evidence had made him a convert -to the proposal of payment of Members, for that, as they gained no -credit or social distinction by their membership, they expected a -pecuniary consideration for their trouble, and it was better for them -to get it honestly and above-board than dishonestly. The House, it -seems, thinks so too, for by a majority of 22 to 10, the other day, -they patriotically voted that they ought to be paid. The Council will -probably throw out the Bill, for it may be doubted whether a moderate -salary would suffice to induce a rogue even to confine his rogueries -within the bounds of decency. - -These things being so in Victoria, and being no secret, but in every -man’s mouth, it is not a little humiliating to find the peculiar -institutions under which such abuses thrive, held up, in a volume -of _Essays on Reform_, apparently as a pattern by which England may -profit in remodelling her own. I have neither space nor inclination to -examine the essay in detail. The account which it gives of Australian -prosperity is, no doubt, true enough. Indeed, as regards Victoria, -nobody need be otherwise than sanguine about the ultimate prospects of -a colony of such extraordinary natural wealth. It will require very -bad legislation, and a very bad legislature indeed, to inflict any -irretrievable blow on its material prosperity. The Council is as yet -sound, and works well. Above all, the Bench is excellently filled. It -is true that there are many unrefined and wholly uneducated persons -in the wealthiest class; the largest proprietor (in fee) of land in -Australia, and probably in the world, was once a retail butcher. But -this will right itself by degrees. And, on the other hand, the lowest -class in Victoria is decidedly superior in energy and intelligence to -the same class in England, as is to be expected of the first generation -of colonists who have come out each of his own individual will, and -not forced in a promiscuous mass by any political convulsion. It is a -pleasure to see a man breaking stones on the road, he does it with such -vigour, and one knows he is earning thereby about five shillings a day, -and not only a pittance at the workhouse. Victorian society is like -English, with a thick slice cut off the top and a thin slice off the -bottom. There is, perhaps, more to be said for universal suffrage in -Victoria than in most countries. - -But admitting all this, the utmost that the writer of this essay has -proved by it is that these colonies have not been retarded in their -growth by their peculiar institutions. He does indeed contrast the -excellent judges of the present time with a drunken Judge-Advocate -under Governor Bligh. But in those days New South Wales had scarcely -ceased to be anything more than a huge prison, and he might as well -compare a judge of the Court of Queen’s Bench to an Old Bailey -practitioner. The press of the present time, no doubt, is superior -to that of fifteen or twenty years ago. So is the press of London -to that of Birmingham or Dublin; but is that because London has a -better political constitution than they have, or because it has many -times their population, and is able to demand and pay for better and -more expensively conducted publications? As to public expenditure, -it is idle to compare old and burdened countries with new ones in -this respect, but is it so great a triumph for a Legislature which -entered upon its labours with no debt, no foreign ministers, no -pauperism, almost no military or naval expenses, no possibility of -war, a population extraordinarily wealthy, and millions of acres of -land to sell when it pleased, not to have exceeded its income (though -in Victoria the Government has fallen back on Protection for revenue), -while England, with more than a third of her revenue going to pay -interest of debt, with the pauperism of an overcrowded country, and -with foreign war constantly threatening, has yet managed, however -little, to continue paying off her debt? - -Nobody disputes the desirability of representative institutions for -colonies which have reached a certain stage of development. The -point is whether they have worked the better in Australia for being -so democratic, and this the essay scarcely even attempts to prove. -Still less does it prove that such institutions, even if they are the -best it was practicable to obtain for Australia, would be equally -applicable under utterly different circumstances in England. With -respect to the glaring evils I have alluded to, the writer may perhaps -agree with the author of another essay in the same volume, that -corruption in the Legislature is, ‘except in extreme cases,’ merely -‘an annoying and offensive, and not a dangerous disease.’ This is the -old cry of ‘measures, not men,’ revived. For my own part, I believe -that the tardiest and feeblest legislation is far less pregnant with -fatal consequences than the habitual contemplation of dishonesty in -high places and amongst public men. This is an ever-present pattern -and incentive to evil, which, entering every household, offers its -drop of poison to every ambitious and aspiring man, and slowly -and imperceptibly brings all that is sterling and honourable into -disrepute. - - - - - VI. - - TASMANIA. - - -The heat, and drought, and dust of summer begin to make Melbourne -unpleasant by December. In Sydney and Adelaide it is hotter still, and -in Queensland there is almost as great heat as in India, without all -the elaborate Indian appliances and luxuries for making it bearable. -Christmas holidays and lawyers’ Long Vacation are just beginning. -Hence there is a considerable migration about this time of year of -Australians on the mainland who may be ailing or wanting a holiday, to -the cool fresh air of Tasmania; and well filled steamers go about twice -a week from Melbourne to either Launceston or Hobart Town, and once a -fortnight from Sydney. - -Our long narrow vessel, crowded with passengers and incommoded with an -unpleasant deck-cargo of two or three hundred sheep, which makes her -roll like a porpoise, steams swiftly away from Melbourne down the dirty -sluggish Yarra-Yarra, between flat marshy banks, more malodoriferous -than the worst parts of the Thames in its worst days. By sunset we -are out of Port Phillip and in Bass’s Straits. Next morning we pass -high jagged rocky islands, rising abruptly and precipitously out of -deep water; then through Banks’s Straits, which seem to be a funnel -for collecting the wind, for it is almost always blowing hard there -from the west; and in the afternoon we glide suddenly out of the rough -water into the serenest and calmest of seas, protected from the fierce -westerly winds by Tasmania, the east coast of which lies a few miles -off to starboard, a pretty peaceful shelving shore, with bold mountains -rising up in the distance. Another night at sea, and we wake up at -daylight as the vessel is rounding the fine precipitous headlands of -Cape Pillar and Cape Raoul, with basaltic columns like those in the -cliffs of the Giant’s Causeway, and is entering Storm Bay with its -wooded islands, narrow-necked peninsulas, and deep inlets running far -into the country, till the eye is puzzled to discern where our course -will be, and to distinguish island from coast. Two hours more and the -estuary of the Derwent is reached, broad, but as we proceed wholly -land-locked by hilly shores, rising gently from the water’s edge, and -green with cultivation near their base, their summits dark with trees -and half-cleared bush. I can think of nothing to compare it with unless -it be the Lake of Thun without its snow mountains, or the Dart at its -widest near Dartmouth; but both are bad comparisons. Soon after, the -dark blue-grey wooded mass of Mount Wellington faces us, rising up -four thousand feet and more; and on the sloping shores of the little -bay below it lies Hobart Town, with wharves along the water’s edge, -and water deep enough for a man-of-war within two hundred yards of the -shore. Sea, river, mountain, forest, farm, and city, are before the eye -almost at once. It is the most beautiful spot for a city I ever saw in -the world. - -The steamer comes alongside a deserted looking wharf, occupied only -by two or three drays and carriages, and a knot or two of lounging, -ill-conditioned porters; and with the picture of busy, thriving, -restless, eager Melbourne fresh upon our minds, we land, to find -ourselves in what looks like a pleasant, neat, old-fashioned English -country town, perhaps twice as large and straggling as Dorchester, -Ipswich, or Bury, but ten times more stagnant, dull, and lifeless. A -greater contrast in every way to Melbourne could hardly be conceived. -At Melbourne most people seem to be there only for business, that they -may accumulate and save money and retire with it to England. Of Hobart -Town the most conspicuous and characteristic feature is the number of -small, quiet, comfortable houses in small, pretty, gay gardens, such as -men with incomes of from 300_l._ to 800_l._ might inhabit, and which -look like the abodes of retired sea-captains, merchants, or tradesmen. -The House of Assembly and Custom-house, the Post-office, and other -public offices, are very well placed in a central position not far -from the wharves—handsome, stone-faced, neatly-finished buildings, -free from attempts at florid ornamentation, and though small and -unpretending, more appropriate, and in better taste, than many of the -public buildings of Melbourne or Sydney. They were planned and begun, -most of them, in the days when there was any amount of convict labour -available, and have been finished since, at heavy cost owing to the -dearness of labour, by the help of loans, the interest of which presses -somewhat heavily on the colony. But so seldom is anyone to be seen -passing in or out of them, that one doubts at first sight whether they -can be in use. - -The streets are almost empty. Nobody looks busy. Nobody is in a hurry. -Converse with anyone about the state of the Colony, and the word -_depression_ is one of the first you hear, and it will come over and -over again till you are weary of it. Different people mean different -things by it, and feel the tendency from prosperity to adversity in -different ways, but few or none dispute the fact. Elderly ladies lament -the old days when there was more society, and a more abundant supply -of soldier and sailor ball-partners; merchants and tradesmen the time -when Hobart Town promised to be the emporium if not the metropolis -of Australia. It is seldom indeed that anyone can be heard to speak -cheerily of the present, or hopefully of the future of Tasmania. Nor is -the colony suffering merely from one of those temporary checks in the -advance of prosperity, which always occur from time to time in young -colonies,—such as, for instance, the wide-spread ruin in Queensland, -which was mainly, and so strangely, caused by the commercial panic in -London, and which is already passing away. Tasmania (or Van Diemen’s -Land, as it was originally called—the name was changed to efface, if -possible, the very memory of its identity and existence as a convict -colony) is the oldest next to New South Wales of the Australian -colonies, and till twenty or twenty-five years ago was still, next to -it, the most important. Now it is thrown completely into the shade by -Victoria, South Australia, and even by Queensland. For the last fifteen -years the revenue, the trade, the shipping, and the general prosperity -and enterprise of the colony have been steadily decreasing. And -although the population has increased, the increase has been due solely -to the excess of births over deaths, and not at all to immigration—the -number of persons who have left the colony during this period being -considerably in excess of those who have arrived in it, in spite of -very large sums spent out of the public money on immigration—and hence -the population of adults has remained nearly stationary, while only -that of old people and children has increased. A settler of twenty or -thirty years’ standing, especially in the southern part of the island, -can perhaps point to only one or two houses in his township which have -been built since he came. - -It is not difficult to account for this state of things. Wool first, -and then gold have been the two principal causes of prosperity in -Australia. Of gold there is not sufficient quantity in Tasmania to pay -for working it. Wool it does produce according to its capabilities; -but it must not be forgotten that the island is comparatively small -(roughly, about as big as Ireland), that much of it is thickly timbered -or for other reasons useless, and only a small proportion available -for pasture. What there is has been almost all taken up and made the -most of, for nearly thirty years past. And so mere excess of numbers -drove men, and young men especially, away from Tasmania, to become -Squatters in Victoria, and in younger colonies where there was more -room for them. For the most profitable sheep-farming, according to the -present system and condition of things, is that which is done on a -large scale. Ten thousand acres is a very small station. I have heard -of as much as seven hundred thousand acres, the size of a large English -county, belonging to one cattle-station in a remote part of Queensland. -It is said that sixty thousand sheep is about the best and most -economical number for a Squatter to have, that being large enough and -not too large for him to manage, with the assistance of his overseer -and shepherds. And sixty thousand sheep take a great many acres of the -thin thirsty Australian grass to keep them alive through the summer -droughts. - -It is true that Tasmania with its excellent and temperate climate -is especially suitable for agriculture. According to the government -statistics the average produce of an acre of wheat is about eighteen -bushels. In England the average is said to be twenty-eight, in Ireland -twenty-four, and in France only fifteen and a half.[5] And bearing -in mind that in a new country the cheapness of land and dearness of -labour and of capital renders farming almost of necessity slovenly, -this may be considered a comparatively large yield. But there are -great difficulties in the way of the agriculturist. Most of the rich -chocolate-coloured soil in the north is very heavily timbered, and -requires much labour to clear it. It is seldom indeed that farming -is made remunerative, even by settlers who have had many years’ -experience, except in the immediate neighbourhood of a large town. For -it must be remembered that the population of an Australian colony is -very small, comparatively, and its market soon glutted; and that as the -town and manufacturing population is small compared with the country -population, the tendency is always in the long run rather towards over -supply of agricultural produce, and consequent low prices. Now and -then of course there is a violent reaction; but the great fluctuation -in price is of itself an evil and a difficulty. The crop that pays -best one year may, however abundant, be a loss the next.[6] A farmer -needs something of the judgment and experience of a merchant and of -a speculator to enable him to succeed, as well as skill to grow good -crops. And often capital is thrown away upon a soil which is too poor -to repay cultivation; for it is difficult to form a correct opinion of -the value of land which has never been cultivated. One often passes -fields which have been abandoned, and in one place I saw a whole valley -left to return into its original condition of bush. - -Tasmania has suffered, too, more perhaps than even New South Wales, -though in a way that is less likely to be permanent, from the abuse -of the convict system. I say the _abuse_ of it, for looking upon -transportation to Australia as a whole, I find it impossible to avoid -the conclusion that it has been a great and conspicuous success. But -poor Tasmania was very hardly treated. In 1840—rashly and needlessly -as Lord Grey thought[7]—transportation to New South Wales was suddenly -stopped, and the whole stream turned on the unfortunate island. For -many years after this the convicts far outnumbered the free population. -In 1845 there were 25,000 male convicts in the island, and the country -was simply a huge penal settlement without even sufficient room for -expansion, the moral sink and sewer of England. It is true that in this -colony the convicts were seldom able to marry or leave children, or -settle on the land, as they did in New South Wales, and that the great -majority left the country as soon as their sentences expired, so that -considering the immense number brought there, the number now remaining -is surprisingly small. It may also be true, as is asserted (though I -hardly believe it), that crime measured by the number of convictions is -now not more frequent than in England, in proportion to the population. -Still in one way or another they have left a curse behind them. The -settlers were demoralized by the assignment system, which while it -lasted gave them almost the power of slave-holders. A convict could be -hired for little more than the cost of maintaining him; sometimes in -consideration of leisure allowed him, he even paid money to his master -in addition to his services; and the master could get him even punished -at the public expense by sending him to the nearest magistrate with the -written message, ‘Please give the bearer twenty lashes, and return him -to yours truly.’ - -Free labour, as is always the case, suffered from contact with forced -labour. The convict taught the free labourer many bad lessons, and one -of them was how to do the least possible amount of work for a day’s -wages. The accepted standard of a day’s work became a low one. Wages -might fall, but such labour was dear at any price. All this time the -Home Government was spending about half a million annually in the -colony, and was making roads, harbours, and wharves, on a magnificent -scale by convict labour; so that the cost was not felt in taxation. -Government originated everything, planned everything, paid for -everything. An unhealthy artificial condition of society was produced -which tended to enervate all classes, and left the colony ill prepared -to stand against, or profit by, the events which followed. In deference -to the general outcry at its gross abuse, transportation was suddenly -stopped, and with it ceased most of the annual half million from -England. At this time Victoria had for some years past been attracting -from Tasmania many of the most enterprising and adventurous of its -population, but from the moment when the wonderful news of the gold -came, it seemed as if none would be left behind but old men, women, -and children. Most would indeed have done better to stay behind and -cultivate the land. For wheat rose till it sold for five to six pounds -a quarter in Melbourne, and hay at from twenty to forty pounds a ton. A -great trade sprang up with Melbourne in corn, timber, vegetables, and -fruit, and there was a hope that Tasmania would establish itself as the -granary of Victoria. But year by year this trade has been diminishing, -and now American flour and even American timber undersell Tasmanian in -the Melbourne market. Some fortunes indeed were made in those years of -gold, but they were comparatively few and small, and those who made -them have for the most part invested them elsewhere, or been content -to live quietly on the interest of the money rather than risk their -capital in doubtful enterprises. - -For there more than elsewhere in Australia—as much, perhaps, take the -whole year round, as anywhere in the world—do scenery and climate -invite retirement to country life. It is the Capua of the Australias. -Snow scarcely falls except to ornament the summits of Mount Wellington -and of the distant ranges of the uninhabited and almost unexplored west -coast. The frosts are seldom fatal even to the tenderest plant. The -stifling hot winds of the continent are cooled by a hundred miles of -sea before they reach the island. Nor is the air stagnant or sultry. -Hot as the sun is by day, the summer nights are cooler than in England. -English trees, flowers, and fruits, flourish with a rare luxuriance, -side by side with pines from Norfolk Island and New Zealand. Geraniums -blaze out in huge pink and scarlet masses, growing in almost wild -profusion. The English sweet-briar has been introduced, and has spread -of itself till in its luxuriance it has become a noxious weed to -the farmers. Fruit follows fruit so fast under the early summer sun -that apples ripen almost before strawberries are over. It is in such -profusion that it lies rotting on the ground for want of mouths to eat -it. Life is long here, and you seldom see the pale, thin, dried-up, -prematurely old faces and lean figures of the other colonies, which -almost make one doubt whether the English race was meant to live in -climates such as those of Queensland and of South Australia. Sometimes -indeed it seems as if the climate were _too_ Capuan, too little -compelling to exertion. Invalids bask in it, rheumatic people find in -it relief from pain, and the consumptive live out the full tale of -their days. But the strong and active seem to lose something of their -vigour, to ride where they used to walk, to walk where they used to -run, to drink stimulants when they used to eat. Children seem to grow -up less hardy for want of the nipping of the keen frost and the bitter -blast of the English east wind to compel them to activity and to make -repose for half the year, except by the fire-side, impossible.[8] - - - - - VII. - - TASMANIA (_continued_). - - -Circumstances have made Tasmania lean more than any other of the -Australian Colonies towards sober conservatism in its ideas and its -social and political aspect. Perhaps the youthful ideal of those -who are now middle-aged and influential was generally the British -regimental officer, as he was to be found, some twenty or thirty years -ago, in quarters at Hobart Town, or retired and occupied with his -grant of land up the country. For in those days there were sometimes -a couple of regiments in the colony, which formed no unimportant -or inconsiderable proportion of its population, besides a number -of government officials in various capacities. The original landed -proprietors were mostly retired officers of the army or navy, army -doctors, or other government officials, to whom up to about thirty-five -years ago grants of land were made by the Crown. - -Land was not worth very much then. Ploughing your field with a sentry -keeping guard at one end of it lest you should be speared by a black -fellow crawling out of the bush, was farming under difficulties: to -say nothing of the probability of having the station cleared out by -bushrangers from time to time, and the chance of being shot, as a -precaution against identification, by men who had already forfeited -their lives. - -It is better than any novel to get an old Tasmanian settler to tell -you about those old times, the uproarious, dare-devil, killing and -robbing heroic age of the colony. The crowning event, the great joke of -the time—soon after which things began to get comparatively peaceable -and prosaic—was the ‘black war,’ as it is ironically called. This was -one of the wildest and most impracticable schemes ever devised by a -really wise man, for catching the black fellows alive and unhurt and -deporting them to some island where they might be both harmless and -safe. All available soldiers and settlers were mustered and posted in a -continuous line across the south-eastern corner of the country, which -line, advancing day by day and gradually converging, was at length -to enclose and catch them as in a trap. It was like sending half a -dozen mastiffs to drive rabbits out of a wood, as almost every one -knew beforehand it would be. Somebody caught (I think) one black man -and a woman, very much by accident, and no more were even _seen_. But -30,000_l._ or 40,000_l._ had been spent on the campaign, and when the -campaigners sent the bill home accompanied by a memorial setting out -magniloquently the glorious results attained, John Bull unsuspectingly -paid it, and the colony was so much the richer for its ‘black war.’ - -Very soon after this—but in no sort of way in consequence of -it—the whole race of aborigines came one by one and voluntarily -gave themselves up to a man named Robinson, who had acquired an -extraordinary influence over them, and who deserves to be nominated -patron saint of the colony. They were settled on Flinders Island and -kindly treated, but nevertheless died off fast. The small remnant -was afterwards settled at Oyster Cove, an exquisitely lovely spot -on D’Entrecasteaux’ Channel, where the survivors, now only three in -number, are to be seen. - -The bushrangers too were put down soon after the black fellows had -been removed; and though others appeared from time to time, they could -never escape capture very long, not having, as escaped convicts had in -New South Wales, any sympathisers among the settlers; and now for many -years past no such thing as a bushranger has been heard of in Tasmania. - -As the country became safe, land became valuable, and was sold instead -of being granted away, and sheep and wool brought a certain degree of -prosperity. Still no great amount of wealth was made by the settlers -up the country, and in the towns those who made money by trade -generally migrated with it to Victoria, and settled there where there -was more scope for them, and the less adventurous built themselves -comfortable houses in or immediately around Hobart Town; so that the -original landowners have not been supplanted so much as might have been -expected, considering the events and changes which have taken place, by -rich mercantile men or tradesmen; but in the bad times of late years -have either disappeared altogether, leaving their places vacant, or -continue on the same property, seldom richer, and often much poorer, -than when they were younger. In the list of magistrates there are -still[9] fifteen who were on the commission before 1835. - -Very many persons have not once left the island since they came to -settle in it, or were born in it. It is quite a new sensation to live -amongst people, comparatively few of whom, rich or poor, old or young, -have ever seen a railway. The old came before railways were made -anywhere, and both live in a country where a Bill to make the first has -only this week passed the Legislature. - -Nevertheless, with all their conservatism, during the ten years since -the first Parliament under the new Constitution met, the Government has -been changed seven times, four Parliaments have been elected, and only -three Members of the House of Assembly have kept their seats during -the whole time. The latter contains a considerable ‘rowdy’ element, -which has introduced a degree of scurrilousness and coarse personal -abuse, astonishing to decorous English ears, into hustings speeches and -occasionally into parliamentary debates. On one occasion, the Head of -the Government, when received with disfavour by the Assembly, appealed -from it for sympathy to the spectators. Shortly afterwards, when he -had left office, he was, for gross misconduct, expelled by a vote of -the House from sitting there for a year. Yet he is still a prominent -member of the Opposition, and is one of the three Members who have been -returned for every Parliament. - -The administration ordinarily consists of a colonial secretary, a -treasurer, and an attorney-general, one of whom is Premier. The duties -of office are not so onerous as to prevent a minister pursuing his -ordinary avocations, such as those of barrister or merchant. - -The legislative power is vested, as in all the Australian colonies -which have a constitution, in two Houses, corresponding to our Lords -and Commons, and actually using May’s _Parliamentary Practice_ as their -text-book on points of order. The upper House or Legislative Council -of Tasmania contains fifteen members, each of whom sits for six years -from the date of his election. This House is not subject to dissolution -by the Governor. Its members are chosen by electoral districts, the -electors being freeholders to the amount of 50_l._ a year, doctors, -ministers of religion, graduates of a university, barristers, and -army or navy officers, resident twelve months prior to the election. -The Lower House, or Legislative Assembly, is chosen by ten-pound -householders, and is subject to dissolution by the Governor, who now -has much the same powers in the colony that the Crown has in England. - -This ten-pound franchise is in the towns practically equivalent to -household suffrage. In the country the labourers in general have no -votes, as they live rent-free in houses belonging to their employers. -No lowering of the franchise has ever been seriously demanded or -proposed, and indeed there has been hardly any such thing as a -genuine democratic cry; but from time to time sham ‘poor man’s friend’ -cries are got up for election purposes. Those who get them up are so -notoriously worthless, that most honest people here are inspired with -contempt for democratic cries and democrats everywhere, and when they -read their English news have less toleration for noisy demagogues than -an average English Tory would have. Yet here, as in England, such -opinions are oftener expressed in private than in public, and there is -apparently the same shrinking from plain outspoken denunciation of the -evils of an unmixed democracy—evils the approach of which so true a -lover of liberty as De Tocqueville constantly deplored, as certain to -be, sooner or later, fatal to both freedom and patriotism. - -Intimidation of voters is out of the question in a country where there -are scarcely any large employers of labour, and where the relation of -landlord is comparatively rare, has none of the traditions of feudalism -in it, and is subject to no obligation but that of money payment. In -general a seat in the House of Assembly is not so much coveted as to -have any money value, so that there is no inducement to bribery. The -only constituency, I was told, amongst which it has been practised is -that of Hobart Town itself. In this, the only instance in which the -ballot could have been of use, it (on one occasion at least) signally -failed. An ingenious method was practised of evading its secresy, and -making it certain that the bribees carried out their contract. The -system of voting was for each voter to be presented, on entering the -polling-booth, with a voting-paper, duly signed, containing the names -of _both_ the candidates. This the voter took into the room containing -the ballot-box, where he erased the name for which he did _not_ wish to -vote, and then deposited it in the box. The trick was done as follows: -Bribee number one was instructed to pass through without depositing his -voting-paper at all, but to give it after he came out to the bribing -agent. The agent then erased from it the hostile candidate’s name, -and gave it to bribee number two, who deposited it in the ballot-box, -bringing out his _own_ paper entire, which, after the Opposition name -had been erased, was in like manner handed to bribee number three, and -so on, the bribees having thus no opportunity of voting wrong without -being discovered. - -In conversation members not only of the Legislature but of the Ministry -do not hesitate to avow their conviction that the granting of the -new Constitution has proved to be a mistake and a misfortune to the -country, and that the old one worked better, under which ministers -held office permanently and a proportion of members of the Assembly -were nominated by the Governor. It is not that the government, as -compared with that of the neighbouring colonies, has not on the whole -been well carried on. Under the discouraging circumstances of a -steadily diminishing revenue, which had to be met from time to time -by increased taxation, the public debt amounts to 5_l._ 10_s._ per -head as against 13_l._ 17_s._ 6_d._ in prosperous Victoria; and the -taxation to 2_l._ 11_s._ per head annually against 4_l._ 12_s._ 4_d._ -in Victoria. The men of education and respectability have in general -succeeded in maintaining an ascendancy over the unprincipled and rowdy -element, though the latter is always at least a strong minority. -But there is something unsuitable and almost comical in adapting -the ponderous machinery of _quasi_ Crown, Lords, and Commons to so -small a community. A popular House requires numbers to give it any -appearance of importance, and it is impossible that there can be very -much dignity in a very miscellaneous assembly, containing when all are -present only thirty members; although a reasonable proportion of them -are men of fair average ability, and there is nothing of pomposity -or self-importance in the demeanour of the speakers. Strangers are -admitted into the body of the House, and sit on benches or on the floor -all about the Speaker’s chair, and though this arrangement is rather -disorderly, it is perhaps an assistance to the speakers to have their -small audience a little increased. - -The title of _Honourable_ has been accorded to members of the upper -House; but so conscious are they, apparently, of its inappropriateness, -that in assuming it they do not drop the title of esquire, and Mr. -Smith of the Legislative Council is the Honourable John Smith, Esquire. - -And there is a very practical, and not merely æsthetic, -inappropriateness and inconvenience in too soon conferring almost -complete independence, and consequent isolation, on a small community. -It is true the mere possession of a sufficient amount of territory -rightly gives importance and a position of dignity in the world. -Tasmania being about the size of Ireland, and geographically very well -situated, is quite _big_ enough to stand almost alone. But its entire -population, town and country, is under a hundred thousand, less than -that of a moderately large manufacturing town in the old world. Making -it self-governing tends to cut off the supply from home of educated men -who used to go out in various official positions. As a new generation -grows up, its ranks are no longer increased by those who have had a -more complete education and a wider experience in the old world. By -most of the older generation of colonists this isolation is felt and -deplored as an evil. But the younger ones cannot be expected to look -upon the matter in the same light; and as an instance of this, an -attempt was lately made to abolish two scholarships which are annually -given out of the public money by competitive examination for sending -and maintaining two students at an English University. The Bill passed -the lower House almost without opposition, and the scholarships were -only saved in the upper House by a narrow majority obtained by the -strenuous protest of one of its Members. - -Interest in the details of imperial questions of necessity grows -weaker year by year. It is not that loyalty to the old country and to -the crown is decaying. None would repudiate such an idea more than -the Tasmanians. Their Tasmanianism is to them scarcely more than an -accident, which the fact of their being English far transcends in -importance. Considering its age, this colony retains a more completely -English character than any of the others. But the rising generation -knows England only by tradition and by books. And of the older men -throughout Australia many feel somewhat keenly the indifference shown -to the colonies by England. - -Those in particular who by tradition or by the natural bent of their -minds are conservative, have, in fighting their hopeless battle against -the excesses of democracy, looked almost in vain during the last -fifteen years for support or sympathy to the political party in England -from whom they had a right to expect it. Such neglect could not fail -to alienate their interest in English politics. And when the news came -that the cause of their old party at home was not only lost, but its -political honour indelibly stained by the unprincipled and time-serving -policy of its leaders, it seemed like a last act of painful severance -from their old hopes and traditions of political life. - -The parliament of a colony, especially one so small in population as -Tasmania, can have in general only petty local questions to discuss. -With no foreign relations, such as an altogether independent state has, -and therefore no foreign policy, and generally with no clearly defined -or special domestic policy either, there are no opposing principles for -opposite parties to adopt. The result is that, so far from agreeing, -they divide with tenfold greater hostility and rancour on personal -and private grounds. It is sometimes difficult, when a government is -defeated and resigns, for the Governor to know whom to send for to -form a new Ministry. The plan at first resorted to, of sending for -the proposer of the hostile motion, might not improbably result in -obtaining a new Premier with no other claim or qualification for the -office than his hostility to his predecessor. - -An instance of personal and party feeling overriding plain public -justice occurred some years ago, in the case of one of the judges—with -this one exception always a good set—who endeavoured to borrow money -of a suitor pending the decision on his case. The suitor refused and -made the scandal known; whereupon the judge, fearing the consequences, -pleaded ill-health and applied for a retiring ill-health pension in the -ordinary way. This the government, under the circumstances, refused; -but afterwards, finding that the judge would not voluntarily resign -without a pension, and that his partisans and friends in the House were -too strong to allow a vote of the House summarily dismissing him to -pass, they were compelled to bring in and pass a special Act granting -him the full amount of the pension asked for, as the only means of -getting rid of him from the bench. Shortly afterwards, his alleged bad -health notwithstanding, he got himself elected and took his seat in the -House. The pension, of course, he still continues to enjoy. - -Where population is thick and the choice of companions large, as at -an English University, quarrels are rare, for men can easily avoid -uncongenial society. Where population is sparse, as up the country in -a colony, jealousies and animosities are more likely to arise and -to become inveterate. And thus the same kind of petty personal and -party spirit which is to be found in the Parliament, often pervades -to a still worse and more noxious extent the Municipal Councils which -have the local management of the country districts. Roads, excellently -engineered and solidly made in old days by convict labour, are allowed -to get out of repair because there is a dispute in the Municipal -Council whether or not a new road shall be made, which would be shorter -for some and longer for others. Corrupt officials are retained because -their patrons or relations are in a majority in the Council. In one -instance which came under my notice, an upright and conscientious -magistrate was so moved to indignation by the unpunished misconduct and -peculations of the police superintendent of the district, that he could -not refrain from denouncing him in a hustings speech. The offender -retorted by publicly giving the magistrate the lie, there and then, -and at the next petty sessions summoned the magistrate for slander, -the magistrate at the same time taking out a cross summons against him -for insulting his superior. There could not be a doubt of the man’s -guilt, though hitherto all attempts to punish him had failed, yet it -was so notoriously certain to be made a party question, that when the -magistrates assembled they confessed that they were not impartial -enough to hear the case, and agreed to refer it to some magistrate of -another district. Even then the two parties amongst the magistrates -could not agree to whom to refer it, and at last were reduced to the -expedient of selecting three magistrates’ names by lot. - -The Press of course suffers from the paucity of readers and from the -absence of a sufficiency of topics to discuss. Every day one if not -two leaders appear, often necessarily about nothing at all, while the -rest of the sheet has to be filled up anyhow, with cases of vagrants -fined at the police-court for being drunk, and so on. Hobart Town in -general supports only one daily paper, though now and then another -makes a start, which suffices for all the south of the island. There -are no other gods in Olympus, and so this local Jupiter reigns with -undisputed sway, his power being as independent of his merit as that -of the Emperor of China. So entirely uncontrolled and uncriticised is -it that even a Premier in forming an Administration may have to take -account of it as of a formidable power in the state, which cannot be -defied with impunity, and may even consider that it is entitled to be -consulted on such matters, and be ready to resent anything having the -appearance of neglect. In such a state of things there is of course -always a possibility and a danger of the Jupiter for the time being -falling into the hands of some ambitious, unscrupulous, and perhaps -illiterate speculator, and being used by him as an instrument of -personal advancement, as could easily be done in a hundred different -ways, and so becoming a serious annoyance as a source of jobbery and -petty tyranny. There is indeed a rival Olympus at Launceston in the -north of the island. But there are generally two or three deities -there to share the power between them, and moreover the northern and -southern population have in many respects different interests, and do -not, I believe, read each other’s papers very much. - - - - - VIII. - - TASMANIA (_continued_). - - -I must recall even the little I have said in a former letter in -dispraise of the Tasmanian climate. In the valleys it may be too mild -and enervating, but there are other parts where it is very different. - -Go in the coach, for instance, for sixty miles along the high road to -Launceston, which is still the main artery of the settlement, having -been made in the old times, with enormous expenditure of labour, by -huge gangs of convicts, clusters of whose ruined and deserted huts are -still to be seen. It is by far the best road in all the Australian -colonies, the only one (as far as I know) over which a common English -stage-coach can travel, and travel too at the rate of ten miles an -hour, including stoppages. Then mount your horse, leave highways and -civilisation behind, and ride westwards along a pleasant grassy road -to the foot of a long wooded range, or tier, as it is called. You -ascend perhaps a thousand feet and find yourself, not on a ridge or a -mountain, but on a high table-land, in a new and uninhabited country -and in a new climate. It is the lake country. Five large lakes, from -one to three thousand feet above the plains, are ready to pour down -their waters and irrigate the whole island into a garden. The sun’s -rays are as powerful as on the plains, but the air is fresh and even -keen, and at night for the greater part of the year it freezes sharply. -Snow falls often as early as March, the first month of autumn. There is -no fear of relaxing heat there. The grass is greener, too, and feels -softer and more springy to ride over. A continuous fence is on each -side of the track; for the country, though uninhabited except by sheep -and their keepers, is most of it purchased and fenced now. But it is a -dead-wood fence of unhewn trunks, with the smaller branches built up -horizontally upon them, and therefore not an eyesore, like the ugly -straight post-and-rail fences; and, moreover, capable of being easily -cleared by a horse at any weak place. Eight miles of this, and a large -and beautiful lake startles you by shining not a hundred yards off -through the trees, and, almost at the same moment, another lake on the -opposite side. Between them is a log hut, the first habitation passed -for twenty miles, and out of it appears a fine, active-looking old man, -whose privilege it is to stop passers-by for a ten minutes’ chat. In -Tasmania it is not safe to ask a stranger _why_ he left home, but you -may always ask _where_ the old home was, and the old man is soon full -of Oxford, and the boats, and boat races, and knows (alas!) which boat -has been winning at Putney of late years. And so you may go on day -after day. It may be there is nothing strikingly magnificent in this -part of the country, but there is not a mile of the track that is not -charming in its way. Only you must not lose it. For some distance the -fences of the sheep-runs are parallel to and indicate it, and there is -no fear of getting wrong, but afterwards you need some one who knows -the country for a guide. For it is seldom that there are landmarks to -go by. Once off the track, and there is nothing but the compass or the -sun to steer by, and nothing bigger than a hut to aim at. One gum is -like another gum, and one wattle like another wattle, and you may come -back to the same spot without recognising it. And there is nothing -to eat in the bush, unless by chance you come across a kangaroo, or -an opossum, or a kangaroo-rat, and have the means to kill, and the -inclination to eat, such food. In old times this part of the country -was a favourite haunt of bushrangers, but want of food obliged them -to make frequent incursions into the more settled districts, and in -all the Australian colonies bushranging was, for this reason, easily -extinguished, where it had not the connivance of some of the settlers. -In New South Wales there must be a taste for preserving bushrangers, -for they still flourish there. - -Or if you prefer a more settled country with farms and townships at -distant intervals, cross the broad deep Derwent by the steam-ferry -at Hobart Town, or, taking the other road, by a ferry three or four -miles higher up, of which a burly Yorkshireman has charge. The first -road winds round a high hill, and the second mounts it by a gradual -continuous ascent of three miles. The cleared land with its yellow -harvest or green, growing crops, and neat dead-wood fences and bushes -of luxuriant sweet-briar, and perhaps a garden and green English trees, -make a foreground to a forest of gum-trees and wattles, which has been -thinned but not cleared by fire, or by cutting a deep ring through the -bark of the trees, for the sake of the scanty brown grass underneath, -which their shade and growth make still more scanty. The bare white -trunks and boughs of these slaughtered but still standing trees stand -out grim and gaunt against the sky for many a year, till a pitying -gale or a fire at their roots brings them to earth, making weird -and ghostly dells such as Gustave Doré loves to draw, and too often -needlessly caricatures. The road descends again upon a township. There -is generally something dreary and repelling about the townships in all -the Australian colonies. They are like little bits cut out of a modern -English manufacturing town, and more than half killed in the process. -Bare square-built brick houses, without a scrap of flower-garden or -shrubbery, or any heed given to prettiness or neatness. Almost every -tree cut down for perhaps a mile round; dust and glare; an inordinate -number of public-houses, none of which care much to take you in unless -you are a large consumer of strong drinks. They look like places -intended only for business, and not for homes at all. And so you pass -through a township, if possible, without stopping, and this time three -miles on you turn aside across pleasant meadows to where, half hidden -by St. Helena weeping willows and by a thick high hedge of brilliant -yellow broom, stands a hospitable house. There is another house, the -prettiest of wooden cottages, or rather bungalows, where you would be -equally welcome; but you must leave it for another time, for if you -stopped everywhere where you were tempted, you would not travel far -in Tasmania. The road henceforth is in general only a track cleared, -where it is necessary, amongst the trees; and you and your horse’s -feet rejoice in the absence of all pavement save nature’s own. Day -after day you ride on through the pleasant bush, meeting or passing or -seeing some one perhaps once in two or three hours. Bright-coloured -parrakeets fly about in flocks; the blue, red, and green Rosella parrot -is the commonest bird of any in the bush. Now and then, though rarely, -you may see a white cockatoo raise his yellow crest, or a kangaroo or -wallaby jump across the track, or a mild-eyed opossum looks foolishly -at you from a tree; or you stop to kill with a whip or stick a snake -basking by the roadside, as you are bound to do if possible, for they -are numerous and all poisonous. Of sounds there are few. Sometimes -in the early morning the native magpie fills the air with the music -of his delicious dreamy note, or later in the day the jackass utters -his absurd laugh. The bush is monotonous perhaps, and the foliage and -vegetation grey and brown and scanty, and the ground often bare instead -of grassy, as in moister climates, but here there is constant change -of hill and valley, constant pleasant surprises of new scenery, such -as one meets with only in travelling for the first time in country -undescribed by tourists and guide-books. If it spoils the interest of -a novel to be told the plot beforehand, does it not ten times more -spoil the enjoyment of new country to be forewarned of its surprises -of scenery, which are the most delicious morsels of our pleasure in -it? And along this east coast you seldom or never need a guide, for, -wild and lonely as it often is, the track is always clear enough. You -may, if you please, take a cart and luggage, for it is astonishing -how carts and their horses learn to dispense with roads. A horse that -is used to it thinks nothing of drawing a cart over a fallen trunk a -couple of feet in diameter, going at it obliquely, one wheel at a time. -But as tall hats, and black coats, and crinolines, and bonnets are -about as necessary on a bush journey as an Armstrong gun or a pair of -skates, you will probably dispense with any such useless incumbrance, -and take only a change of clothes in a valise on the pommel of your -saddle or behind it, or a mackintosh-covered bundle of eight or nine -pounds weight strapped neatly to the off side of your side-saddle. You -are free then, and can go or stay when and where the spirit moves you. -And to anyone with the faintest idea how to use pencil or brush, the -sharpness of outline, the clear blue of the distance, the brilliant -sunshine and strong defined shadows, offer temptations to stop at -every turn, and let your horse stand quietly grazing—‘hung up,’ as -the phrase is, to a tree—while you sketch at leisure. You spend a day -or two perhaps on Prosser’s Plains, a level tract lying charmingly -amongst bush-covered hills; or turn aside to Cape Bougainville with -its lovely views of the coast and of Maria Island; and you pass close -along the calm shore of Oyster Bay, the sea a deep Prussian blue with -broad dark lines of shadow, and beyond, closing in the bay, the bright -purple island and peninsula of Schouten. A lovelier coast, and a -less frequented, it would be hard to find. Hobart Town is seventy or -eighty miles off, and there are no made roads to communicate with it. -Formerly a small steamer plied thither, but somebody must needs start -an opposition steamer, and so they ruined each other, and both ceased -to ply, and now there is only a small schooner. Every fifteen or twenty -miles, or oftener, you come to cleared land, often studded with stumps -two or three feet high in the midst of the growing crops, and to the -house of the proprietor generally built all on the ground-floor, and -all the prettier and more comfortable in consequence, and almost always -with a deep verandah, which gives it shadow and character. Properties -are small and produce little, compared with the huge stations of the -other colonies, and there is little prospect of acquiring great wealth. -But, on the other hand, there is not the same Damocles-sword of anxiety -lest a drought or a fall in the price of wool should bring inevitable -bankruptcy and ruin. Here up the country one does not hear so much -moaning and groaning as in the towns about the depressed state of the -colony, which after all is for the most part only an undue hurry and -impatience to get rich. Cannot people be satisfied with a fair profit -on their own capital, without borrowing at eight or nine per cent., -and expecting a large profit over and above on that? There may be too -much wealth in a country for comfort and happiness, as well as too -much poverty, if people would only believe it. Few things disturb -honest industry and breed discontent more than the contemplation of -too easily and too rapidly acquired fortunes. Those that were made in -Victoria and elsewhere soon after the discovery of gold have left their -demoralising and disheartening influence on all Australia. Without a -large income, Arcadian luxury of climate, scenery, and quiet may be -enjoyed in Tasmania. It is the perfection of retired country life. If -there is in general not much wealth, there are almost always comfort -and plenty. It does not matter that Hobart Town is some days’ journey -distant, and that a day’s shopping is an occurrence that seldom happens -once a year—sometimes not once in many years—for almost every want of -the household is supplied from its own resources. And a traveller from -the old country, utter stranger though he be, meets with a welcome so -cordial, so hearty, so completely as a matter of course, that to one -used only to the highways of European travel it bears a tinge almost of -romance, and the memory of days thus spent in perfect enjoyment gathers -a halo about it which no words of mine can describe. - -Or ride out of Hobart Town, where, perhaps, towards the end of the -summer scarcely any rain has fallen for two or three months, and -follow the new road to the Huon, over the side of Mount Wellington. -As you ascend, on a sudden it is cold and damp, and the road sloppy -with wet. The vegetation, too, has changed. The gums are ten times the -height of those down below, straight gigantic trunks, rising fifty to -a hundred feet without a branch. People speak of trunks seventy feet -in circumference twelve feet above the ground, but I have seen none -so large as that. I am afraid to guess at their height: the mightiest -European trees are dwarfs in comparison. Splitters are at work felling -them and clearing away the underwood, and the blows of the axe sound -and echo as if in a banqueting-hall of the gods. It is sacrilege to -fell them; but the gaps made open out a view far away over the tops of -the trees below to the mouths of the Derwent and the Huon, the jagged -coast-line, the distant capes and breakwater-like islands, conspicuous -amongst them, long, narrow Bruni, where Captain Cook landed nearly a -century ago; and over all the south wind blows cool and fresh from the -Southern Ocean, for there is nothing but sea and ice between you and -the Pole. Further on the road diminishes to a narrow track, cut amongst -the huge gums, and through an undergrowth of almost tropical vegetation -so dense that within twelve miles of Hobart Town it remained till a few -years ago almost unpenetrated. There is the sassafras, with straight, -tapering stem and branches, and fragrant myrtle-like leaves; and fern -trees, drooping their large graceful fronds from thick brown or red -stems, from six to thirty feet high; and bright purple nightshade -berries as big as cherries, and shrubs without end, and it seems -almost without names, except such barbarous misapplications of English -names as are in use to distinguish them, till the Heralds’ Office of -the Linnæan Society gives them title, rank, and lineage—all growing -in a dense mass, and baffling even the all-penetrating sun. Then the -track descends a little, and it all vanishes, and the ground is dry -as before, and two hours’ more riding brings you out suddenly upon -the bank of a fine river, the Huon, as wide here and deeper than the -Thames at Richmond. A short distance off along the bank are a roughly -made landing-stage and a ferry boat, and you must _cooé_ in the best -falsetto you can (if there is a lady of the party she will probably -do it better) till the ferryman hears you and comes, and with some -trouble persuades the horses into the boat, and punts you across, and -gives you directions how to thread your way through the scrub till you -emerge upon a corduroy road and upon the township of Franklin. It is -the chief township of the district, with some six hundred inhabitants, -exceptional in being the perfection of a country village, stretching -along the base of a hill two or three hundred feet high, and fringing -the river bank and tiny wharf with its neat wooden houses. The grass is -green, and not burnt up and brown, as it is in most places long before -summer is over, for here there is moisture enough all the year round. -The people here grow apples, and send them off by shiploads straight -from the wharf to the all-devouring Melbourne market; and they make -shingles for roofing, and shape timber, and saw up the famous Huon -pine, which they often have not even the trouble of felling, for the -winter floods wash it down from almost unpenetrated bush. Though it -is not thirty miles from Hobart Town and civilization, yet westward -for seventy or eighty miles to the sea is no human habitation, nothing -but bush so thick, so devoid of anything to support life, that of the -convicts who from time to time in years past escaped into it from -Macquarie Harbour, on the west coast, scarcely any got through alive. -Much of it needs only clearing to make fine agricultural land. There -are millions of acres to be bought by the first comer at a pound an -acre. Yet, out of sixteen and a half million acres which Tasmania -contains, only three and a half are alienated, and on this small -portion, including the towns, the population is less than one person -for thirty-five acres! - -Can any country be more perfectly delightful? Once mounted (and, rich -or poor, there are few who cannot possess or borrow a horse of some -sort in Tasmania) one is free with a freedom known only in dreams to -dwellers in the old country of hedges and Enclosure Acts, where to quit -the dreary flinty roads is to trespass and to break the law. One’s -first reflection is on the astonishing folly of humanity in neglecting -to inhabit it. Surely there must be many wearied with the crowd and -strife and ugliness of English cities, who, brought to a virgin -forest such as this, would be ready to sing their _Nunc dimittis_ in -thankfulness that it had been permitted them to exist in such beauty, -to have their dreams helped to the imagination of the glory of the -new heavens and the new earth. Probably, however, not one person in -twenty, take England through, would have his or her enjoyment of life -materially increased by living in a free unspoiled country, with -abundance of space and air, or indeed in natural beauty of any kind; -and doubtless a large majority at heart prefer the shops of Oxford -Street, for a continuance, to the most beautiful scenery imaginable. -And it may be there is something of a true instinct in them, such as -was in Sir Robert Peel when (as the story goes) he used to stand at -the top of Trafalgar Square, and looking down over the dreary, ugly, -blackened buildings, and the busy colourless crowd, say it was the -most beautiful sight he ever saw. For after all men are better than -trees. Besides, rich people are too comfortable to change their homes -and their hemisphere, and poor people must go where they can find -bread as well as beauty. So till the country is found to provide a -cure for impecuniosity as well as for less tangible and less generally -recognised requirements, it must remain, I suppose, nearly as it is. - -The common, and no doubt correct, reason given for its failure in -this last respect, is that it is essentially an agricultural and not -a pastoral country, owing to the quantity of timber, and that wheat -is too cheap to repay even a moderate profit on cultivation. Wheat -is unnaturally cheap now, because the popular cry in Victoria lately -has been for protection, and the Victorian Government, to conciliate -it, and to nurse their ‘cockatoo’ settlers, has put a duty on corn -and other produce which, to a great extent, drives the Tasmanians -from their natural and legitimate market. Certainly, at the present -low prices, a farmer employing labourers finds it difficult to make -a living. In some places there is land thrown out of cultivation, -looking dismal enough. Nevertheless, for common agricultural labourers -there is plenty of demand; a labourer can earn at least three times as -much as he can in the southern counties of England. In wages he gets -at least ten shillings a week, out of which he has hardly anything -but his clothes to buy; for in addition he has rations, consisting of -twelve pounds of mutton, twelve pounds of flour, two pounds of sugar, -and a quarter of a pound of tea; and a log hut, and a garden if he -likes, rent free. Fresh comers from England sometimes do not know -how to consume so large an allowance of meat, and ask to have part -of it changed for something else. But before long they fall into the -universal Tasmanian custom of eating meat three times a day, and learn -to be glad of it all. At shearing time a large number of hands are -wanted at once, and wages are much higher. It is a common thing for a -man after shearing is over to give the cheque he has earned, perhaps -for twenty pounds or more, to the keeper of the nearest grog-shop, and -bid him supply him with liquor there and then till it is all spent. -If a man will only keep from drink he can save money enough in a few -years to buy land and support himself till his first crop is reaped. He -has no labour to pay for, and like the peasant proprietors of Adelaide, -who this year have been sending their wheat to England, may succeed -where an employer of labour fails. There is land along the north coast -rich as any in the world, but heavily timbered. The settler gets rid of -the smaller trees and underwood simply by setting it on fire, and sows -his seed in the ashes, and gets a fine crop without even ploughing, -leaving the larger timber to be felled as he has leisure for it. There -are harbours all along this coast, and a railway is about to be made, -and before many years are over it will take a heavy tariff to keep the -produce of this fertile district out of Melbourne market. - -And after all, at the worst, is it to come to this—that a shrewd, -strong, hard-working man, with plenty of land of his own, cannot live -unless markets and prices are favourable? Need an Englishman starve -now, under circumstances in which a Saxon or a Dane of a thousand -years ago would, after his fashion, have luxuriated in plenty? If -so, it is the custom of excessive subdivision of labour, the growing -incompleteness in themselves of men and of households, which has -spoilt us for settling in a new country. Such subdivision of course -increases production in a highly civilised country, but it may easily -become a source of mental and physical degradation to the producer. -Sheffield knives may be the best and cheapest in the world, but we -have all heard of the Sheffield emigrant girl, who, landing in a new -colony, and seeking employment, confessed she had never been taught to -do anything whatever, indoors or outdoors, but _pack files_. If wheat -or other produce will not fetch a profit, cannot a man grow less of -it, and instead keep sheep and poultry to supply himself with meat, -and on such a soil as this grow perhaps grapes for his own wine, such -as it is, and even possibly flax for his own linen? And if his wife be -of the right sort for a settler’s wife, and not of the file-packing -sort, there will be few things for which he need go to a shop. Such -a state of things, if possible, and not Utopian, has at least this -advantage, that it saves the wife and young children from the great -bane of peasant proprietorship, that of becoming like mere unthinking, -routine-following beasts of burden on the soil, as we see them too -often in Belgium and France, with no other thought or employment but -how to put the utmost possible pound of manure on the soil, and how -to extract from it the utmost bushel in return, to the neglect of all -things else on earth. At any rate, it is hardly to be believed that -English agricultural labourers will not, sooner or later, have spirit -to attempt to solve the problem for themselves one way or another, -rather than rest contented with their present condition. The present -generation may hope to live to see them asking twice or three times -their present wages, and, if unable to obtain them, departing for a -new, and, for them, a freer country. - -Unfortunately, some working men at home have singularly unpractical -ideas about freedom. At least so it appears to us out here at the -antipodes, where home questions assume such different relative -proportions, and the monthly mail, with its tale of political strife, -is so often a weariness rather than a pleasure to read. Franchise -questions are trifles compared to land questions out here, and we -cannot see the point (even after allowing for rhetorical flourish) of -people choosing to call themselves serfs because they have not got -votes. It is difficult to understand what conceivable meaning those men -could have attached to the word ‘freedom,’ who considered that they -were asserting or claiming it by parading the streets at the summons -of a Beales. To us, such an exhibition of franchise-worship—if that be -what it means—under such a high priest, appears like lingering round a -golden calf, when a promised land lies waiting to be claimed. - - - - - IX. - - SYDNEY AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD. - - -The chief towns of the five principal Australian Colonies are separated -by nearly equal intervals. The distances from Adelaide to Melbourne, -from Melbourne to Hobart Town, from Melbourne to Sydney, and from -Sydney to Brisbane are not very different. That from Melbourne to -Sydney is a little the longest of them. It is rather more than a two -days’ and two nights’ voyage. To go by land is a tedious and laborious -journey, except for those who know the country and its inhabitants very -well. Only a small portion can be done by railway, and most of the -way is through flat, monotonous country, more or less afflicted with -floods, bushrangers, bad roads, and worse inns. Indeed, whenever there -is steam communication by water between two Australian towns, it is -seldom that there is any other practicable way of going. - -The Melbourne steamer keeps close in shore all the way. The coast -generally has a barren look, and, except at Cape Schank and near a -mountain called the Pigeon House, has few striking features. It is so -little settled or cultivated that its appearance from the sea cannot -be much changed since Captain Cook explored it. It is seldom that -there is a sail in sight. At the very entrance of Port Jackson hardly -a living creature, few buildings except the lighthouses, and no mast -of a ship at anchor are visible. It is not till the narrow opening -between the high precipitous cliffs is entered and the South Head -rounded, that a scene of beauty bursts upon you as suddenly as a vision -in a fairy story. In an instant the long rollers and angry white surf -(for there are rollers and surf on the shores of the Pacific on the -calmest day) are left behind, and the vessel is gliding smoothly over -a glassy lake, doubly and trebly land-locked, so that the open sea is -hidden from every part of it. To the north and east numberless inlets -and coves branch off, subdivide, and wind like rivers between rocky -scrub-covered shores, which are fragrant with wattle, and brilliant -with wild flowers, all new and strange to a European eye. To the left, -on the southern side, are large deep bays, on the shores of which the -rich men of Sydney have built villas and planted gardens, with which -no villa or garden at Torquay or at Spezzia can compare. Farther on, -perhaps four miles from the Heads, you pass three or four men-of-war, -lying motionless at anchor little more than a couple of stone-throws -from the shore, having for their background the graceful bamboos, -and trim Norfolk Island and Moreton Bay pines, and palms, and other -semi-tropical vegetation of the Botanic Gardens. Steamers of all sizes, -from the great P. and O. and Panama ocean steamship, to the busy, -puffing, gaily-painted little harbour paddle-boat, plough up the -clear water. Pleasure boats, from the yacht to the sculler’s funny, -flit noiselessly about. Or a panting steam-tug drags a merchant ship -amongst the hulls and masts and funnels which fringe the innermost part -of the harbour. Above the masts, with miles of winding wharfage at -its base, stands Sydney. At sunrise or sunset on a calm day there is -something almost Oriental in the brilliancy of colour, something dreamy -and unsubstantial in the water, the shores, the black hulls and spars, -seen through the sun-lit haze, like pictures one sees of the Golden -Horn—such as Turner would have delighted to paint. Port Jackson, both -for use and beauty, is almost unsurpassed in the world. It is nowhere -much more than a mile in width; its most distant extremities are not -twenty miles apart in a straight line; yet its perimeter, measured -along the water’s edge and up its numberless little inlets, must be -hundreds of miles in length. - -But once land and enter the town itself, and all pleasing prospects -and illusions vanish at once. Never was a city less worthy of its -situation. The principal street is nearly two miles long. For the -greater part of the way this street is more or less in a hollow, and -from hardly any part of it is the harbour visible. The rest of the -city straggles right and left of it, covering with its suburbs a very -large extent of ground. Only one good street, Macquarie Street, is -finely situated. There are two really fine buildings, superior to -anything of the kind in Melbourne, the new Cathedral, and the Hall -of the University. A few public buildings and some of the banks are -solidly, if not gracefully, built. But in general the houses are small, -ugly, ill drained, ill built, and in bad repair, and the greater part -of the town a poor specimen of the mean style of house architecture -prevailing in England forty or fifty years ago. It is but seldom that -any attempt has been made to make the plans of houses such as to suit -the requirements of the climate, as has been done so successfully at -Melbourne. Deep verandahs, which add so much to the appearance of a -building by producing contrasts of light and shade, and which are so -essential to comfort in a hot, glaring climate, are the exception -rather than the rule. People who can afford to be comfortable and -luxurious live out of town now, and so what is perhaps the best part of -Sydney has been preserved almost unaltered from the Governor-Macquarie -era of half a century ago. - -The climate is such as to make shade and protection from sun, wind, and -dust almost a necessity. In winter, in July and August for instance, -it is very pleasant. Even then it is often as hot in the sun as on -an average fine day in England in summer; and a fire is out of the -question, except in the evening or on a wet day. Snow has not fallen -in Sydney, it is said, for twenty years. A sensation was produced the -other day by a large snow-ball which a guard on the railway brought -in his van from somewhere up the country where there had been a -snow-storm. Towards the end of September it begins to be unpleasantly -hot. The streets are for the most part left unwatered. Often a violent -hot wind blows, filling the air with fine red dust, which penetrates -through closed doors and windows, covering everything, and severely -trying all mucous membranes, eyes, and tempers. This wind is known as -a _Brickfielder_. It blows from the west, and generally lasts from one -to two days. Then comes a southerly wind, often accompanied by rain and -thunder, which strikes it at right angles, and prevails over it. The -temperature at once falls. The sea breeze is disliked by many almost as -much as the other, for though cool it is enervating. The temperature -in summer at Sydney is not nearly so high as in the interior. Yet the -Squatter from up the country when he comes there complains of the heat. -Labourers declare that they cannot do a good day’s work there. With -all classes hours of work are short and holidays frequent. Old people -and persons with delicate and peculiar constitutions may have their -lives prolonged; but strong men get ill who never were ill before, and -complexions and faces look white, sallow, and shrunken almost like -those of Anglo-Indians. - -Sydney is specially deserving of attention as being politically a -fair average type of an Australian city. It is more like what most -other Australian towns are likely to become than any other place. For -the colony is nearly eighty years old. It has a history by no means -uneventful or uninteresting. Among its early heroes it can point -to many men of conspicuous ability, energy, and integrity. Most of -the population are natives of the colony, real colonials, and not -emigrants from the old country. They are less restless, less excitable, -perhaps less energetic, than their neighbours at Melbourne. Some of -them have hardly ever been ten miles from their native city. - -Though no longer the capital or even the first city of Australia, -Sydney is an important and increasing town. The more rapid growth of -Melbourne has thrown it into the shade, and no doubt Melbourne will -maintain its position, and, owing to its central situation, continue -to be the commercial emporium of the other colonies. But it may be -doubted whether Victoria will maintain its lead over New South Wales. -The good land of Victoria extends to the very shores of Port Phillip, -the country is small comparatively, and has been easily opened up. In -New South Wales three trunk lines are in progress and are open for some -distance, but hundreds of miles of railway must be made before many -fertile districts can be even known, except by report, and before even -the inhabitants—much more, possible emigrants at home—begin to realise -the enormous resources of the country. Gold is found in all directions, -though as yet in few places, compared with Victoria, in quantities -which repay the digger. Iron is plentiful. There is an unlimited supply -of coal close to the mouth of the Hunter. Kerosene is being procured in -abundance. The English cereals flourish as well as maize and arrowroot. -Almost any quantity of wine might be grown, and some of it is about as -good as average light French claret. Light wine is a great addition -to comfort in this climate; and as it becomes more plentiful, and -cheaper, it will help more than anything to drive out the old colonial -vice of excessive spirit-drinking, already on the decline. There are -several varieties of climate, for climate depends more upon height -above the sea-level than upon latitude. From the mountainous district -of Kiandra the telegraph day after day even to the end of September -reports ‘snow falling,’ while at Sydney we are broiling. In New -England, close to the borders of Queensland, there is almost an English -climate, and strawberries and other English fruits and vegetables grow -in perfection; while a short distance off, on the Clarence, and on the -vast plains to the westward, the heat, though dry and comparatively -healthy, is intense, and men will put away their coats and waistcoats -in a box, only to be taken out if they want to go to Sydney or to look -specially respectable. To the number of sheep and cattle which may be -kept there is practically no limit. Only there is a distance beyond -which the expense of carting wool or driving cattle to a market eats up -all the profit. For wool, railways will at once extend this distance. -As for cattle, there is a new invention for freezing meat by means of -ammonia, and thus preserving it entirely unchanged for any number of -weeks or months. If this is successful, as there is every reason to -hope, frozen meat may be brought down to the nearest port and kept -frozen for a voyage of any length, and thus the English market may be -supplied with fresh meat from the heart of Australia. - -Food, both animal and vegetable, is perhaps as cheap in Australia as in -any part of the world. Even in Sydney, where it is comparatively dear, -the best beef and mutton cost only about fourpence a pound, a price -which is said to pay a very large profit to the butcher. Inferior meat -is as low as a penny or two-pence a pound. Wheat this year has been -as low as half-a-crown a bushel in some country places. In the bush, -where shepherds and others get their rations of half a sheep each a -week, the waste is often very great. Much is thrown away, or given to -the dogs, or spoilt by bad cooking. This abundance makes it at first -sight seem extraordinary that the early settlers at Sydney should have -been for so many years dependent on supplies of salt provisions brought -from England or the Cape, and that when these supplies ran short they -should several times have been on the verge of starvation. But a ride -outside the town explains it. The soil for many miles round is sandy -and barren. To this day unenclosed and uncultivated land extends up -to the very streets of the town. Even market gardeners have not found -it worth while to establish themselves, except in a few gullies where -the soil is a little better. It is a good thing _now_ that this is so; -for near a large city, which can easily be supplied from a distance, -an unlimited expanse of natural park is better than ploughed fields. -Populous and straggling as the town is, a short ride, or half an -hour’s row across the harbour, takes you into country as wild as a -Scotch moor. On the north shore you may almost lose yourself in the -bush within two or three miles of the town. To the south you may ride -in an hour and a half over glorious open country, amongst scarlet -bottle-brush, epacris, and a profusion of beautiful wild flowers, to -the clear water and white, sandy, uninhabited shores of Botany Bay, -which even in mid-winter quite deserves its name. - -Amongst the few cultivated districts near Sydney is Parramatta. It is -there that the trim gardens of dark green orange trees are, with their -profusion of golden fruit hanging patiently among the leaves for three -or four months. But to see agriculture on a large scale you must go by -railway nearly thirty miles to the valley of the Hawkesbury. A richer -alluvial soil than there is in this valley could not well be, nor one -requiring less labour in its cultivation. But, owing to droughts and -floods, so precarious are the crops that the cultivators are said to -be content if they can secure one out of three which they sow. In the -early days a bad flood on the Hawkesbury caused a scarcity throughout -the colony. In June last an unusually bad one occurred. The river -actually rose nearly sixty feet in perpendicular height, flowing more -than forty feet above the roadway of the bridge near Richmond. You may -see the rubbish brought down by it on the tops of the trees. And though -the stream runs between high banks, the wide, flat plain above was -twelve feet deep in rushing water, which a furious gale of wind made -still more destructive. A few small patches are already green again -with a luxuriant crop. The rest of the plain is a dismal brown expanse -of dried mud. The strong post-and-rail fences are tumbling down or -half buried. Here and there a few slabs or a door-post sticking up out -of the ground mark the place from which a log hut or a cottage has been -swept away. - -Another fertile district, the Illawarra, may be reached by going in -a coasting steamer for fifty miles south from Sydney. A longer but -pleasanter way is to take the Southern Railway for thirty-five miles, -and ride the remaining thirty. The ride is through poor, sandy, scrubby -country, abounding, as sandy soils so often do, with brilliant wild -flowers. The native or gigantic lily grows here in perfection, a single -red flower on a straight stem, often fifteen or twenty feet high; -and the waratah, or native tulip, in diameter as big as a sunflower, -but conical, and crimson like a peony. Suddenly you reach the edge -of a steep descent, so steep as to be almost a cliff, and look down -amongst large timber trees interlaced with dark-leaved creepers of -almost tropical growth, which hang like fringed ropes from the trunks -and branches. Lower down are palms, wild figs, and cabbage palms; and -beyond is a broad strip of rich green meadow land, lying far below -between the cliff and the sea, and stretching many miles away to the -south. Half an hour’s steep descent takes you down to it. There is a -home-like look about the green grass, the appearance of prosperity, and -the substantial look of the farm houses. Farmers’ wives jog along to -Wollongong market with their baskets or their babies before them on the -pommels of their saddles. Almost everybody, except a few of the larger -landowners, is Irish. Here, if anywhere, the Irish have fallen upon -pleasant places and found congenial occupation. There is very little -agriculture. The land is all in pasture, and nothing is kept but cows. -The population is wholly given up to making butter. Even cheese they do -not condescend to make: but Wollongong butter is the butter of Sydney, -and finds its way to far-off places along the coast. The meadows are -as green in summer as in winter, or even greener. For then the sea -breeze often brings heavy showers and storms, and droughts are seldom -known there. I saw an English oak tree in full leaf in the middle of -August—the February of the southern hemisphere. So valuable is the -land, that as much as 20_l._ an acre has been given for uncleared land, -and 2_l._ a year rent—prices almost unheard of in Australia. - -But the pleasantest of all the short journeys to be made from Sydney is -to the Blue Mountains. The range is not high, in few places, I believe, -more than three thousand feet above the sea; but it is intersected by -very deep precipitous ravines, and densely wooded; and the chain, or -rather mass, of mountainous country is very wide. It was many years -before the early colonists succeeded in penetrating it and getting -at the good country beyond. Even now there is only one road and one -cattle track across it. After the first ascent at the Kurrajong the -track descends a little, and then runs nearly level for twelve miles -till Mount Tomer is reached, on the highest ridge, beyond which the -water-shed is to the south-west. Here, as at the Illawarra, occurs -one of those sudden changes which are so delightful in the midst of -the monotony of the bush. The ragged, close-growing, insignificant, -‘never-green’ gum-trees, which, mixed with a few wattles (_mimosa_) -and she-oaks, are the principal constituents of _bush_, give place to -enormous trees of the same as well as of other species. The delicate -light green of the feathery tree-ferns relieves the eye. The air -is full of aromatic scent from many kinds of shrubs, all growing -luxuriantly. Wherever there is an opening you can see as far as the -coast, and for nearly a hundred miles to the north and to the south, -over the bush you have come through. And seen at a distance, the -poorest bush has a peculiar and beautiful colour, quite different from -anything we see in Europe, a reddish ground, shaded with the very -deepest blue, often without a trace of green. - -Sheep, it is said, do not thrive east (that is, on the Sydney side) of -the Blue Mountains, till as far north-wards as the rich valley of the -Hunter. As for cattle, I was told that the quickest and easiest way to -get to a cattle station from Sydney was to take a voyage of two days -and two nights in a steamer to Brisbane, in Queensland, and thence go a -day’s journey by railway to the Darling Downs. For New South Wales is -a vast country, and distances from place to place very great. Railways -as yet do not extend far. Roads are very bad, seldom metalled, often -only tracks. In the valley of the Hunter, on the great northern road, -a road as much frequented and as important as any in the colony, I have -seen twenty oxen yoked to one dray to drag it through the mud up a hill -which was neither very steep nor very long. The coaches in New South -Wales, as in Victoria, are all of the American kind, low and broad, -resting on very long leather straps stretched taut longitudinally, -which are the substitutes for springs. An ordinary English coach would -very soon have its springs broken and be upset. They generally have -(as they need to have) very good drivers, many of whom are Yankees or -Canadians. The bodily exertion and endurance required for a long coach -journey are not small. The ruts and holes made by the narrow wheels of -the drays are often so deep as to make it advisable to leave the road -for a mile or two, and drive straight through the bush amongst the -trees. Often the best way of getting through a bad place is to go at it -at a gallop. Everybody holds tight to save his hat and his bones, and -when the difficulty is passed the driver looks round at his passengers -and asks enquiringly, ‘All aboard?’ The horses, rough in appearance, -possess wonderful strength and endurance. In spite of all difficulties, -four horses will generally take a heavy crowded coach six or seven -miles an hour, which is quite as fast as it is pleasant to travel on -leather springs and on such roads. They are often used at first with -little or no breaking-in. One day the driver of a mail coach meeting -ours stopped us to ask if we had seen anything of his two leaders. -They had broken loose from the rest of the team, he said, during the -journey the night before, and got clear away, splinter-bars and all, -and he had not seen or heard of them since. - - - - - X. - - AN INSTITUTION OF NEW SOUTH WALES. - - -In New South Wales a considerable proportion of the population is of -convict descent. It is impossible to say _what_ proportion, for the -line of separation is no longer strictly preserved, as it once was, -between free settlers and emancipists; and questions are not often -asked nowadays about origin and parentage. The tendency of the convicts -when they got their liberty was to go to the country districts, rather -than to the towns. Many became shepherds or hutkeepers on remote -stations. Their children born in the bush have grown up with less -instruction, religious or secular, often in even worse companionship, -and with a still worse political education, than their fathers. For -who was to look after them? Squatters, even if they had the will to do -so, were few and far between, and Squatters’ wives fewer still. The -Voluntary System does not supply clergymen where there is no demand, -although common sense and common experience show that where there is -the least demand there is the sorest need. Those who remain of the -convicts sent from England are old men now, except a few who have come -across from Tasmania, for it is more than a quarter of a century since -the last shipload of them entered Port Jackson. But they have left a -legacy behind them which is emphatically the ‘peculiar institution’ -of New South Wales, as distinguished from the other Australian -colonies—_Bushranging_. - -In the old times bushrangers were simply escaped prisoners, often -desperate ruffians, who took life, when it suited them, without -scruple. Even then they were not regarded as we regard thieves and -murderers in England. Familiarity with criminals had taught the more -humane among the settlers to consider them as men of like passions with -themselves, and not as only pariahs and enemies of the human race. I -have heard an eye-witness describe the ‘sticking-up’ of a house in the -country many years ago. One of the bushrangers, without any warning, -deliberately shot a manservant in the kitchen through the window. -The lady of the house, hearing the report, ran into the kitchen and -found the man badly shot in the arm. The bushranger who had shot him, -instead of setting to work to plunder with his companions, at once -came to her assistance, obeyed her directions, fetched water, and the -two were amicably engaged for a long time binding up the wounded limb -and assisting the sufferer. The gang were nearly all taken and hanged -afterwards, but I think the people of this house felt more pity than -satisfaction at their fate. - -Many of the lower class have hardly disguised their sympathy with these -successful outlaws. There is a tinge of romance about their lives. A -bushranger is a greater and a freer man than a Hounslow highwayman -of a century ago. He rides an excellent horse, and leads another by -his side. He is armed with a ‘six-shooter,’ and perhaps with a rifle -as well. He has miles and miles of country to roam over, and many a -hut where fear or sympathy will at any time provide him with food or a -night’s lodging. Boys at school play at bushrangers, and no boy, if he -can help it, will act the inglorious part of policeman. Even the name -of the profession has been dignified by being turned into Latin. There -is an inscription in the principal church of Sydney to some one _a -latrone vagante occiso_. - -And so it has come to pass that bushranging, which languished, or -was kept under by the help of an efficient police, for many years, -has broken out again with as great vigour as ever. The country is -distributed between different gangs. I asked the driver of the -Wollongong Mail if he had ever been ‘stuck up.’ His reply was, ‘Not for -nearly a year,’ or something to that effect. On the main north road, -along which you seldom travel a mile without meeting somebody, the mail -coach was stopped at one o’clock in the day by a single armed man, who -calls himself Thunderbolt, and carries on his depredations in this -district. He compelled the driver to drive off the road into the bush, -and there deliberately took down the mail bags and carried them off on -a led horse. A few days later he unexpectedly came upon a policeman, -who at once fired at him. He had just time to cover himself behind a -horse he was leading; the bullet struck the led horse, and he escaped -on the one he was riding. Less than three weeks after the first robbery -he again stopped the same mail coach and the same driver, almost at the -same place; this time at night. The account in the Sydney paper was as -follows:— - - The down mail from Muswellbrook to Singleton, with two days’ mails, - was stuck up by Thunderbolt this morning at 3 o’clock, between - Grasstree Hill and the Chain of Ponds. With the exception of one bag, - all the letters were taken by him. The police are in pursuit. - - The weather is very warm.[10] - -There is an unconscious irony in the way the hot weather and the -robbery of Her Majesty’s mail stand side by side, as if they were -equally every-day matters. Generally a bushranging story only gets into -small type in a corner of the paper, and very seldom indeed inspires -a leading article. You may sometimes see two or three such accounts -in a single daily paper. The most formidable gang is in the Lower -Murrumbidgee, and is known as ‘Blue Cap’s’ gang. I should like to quote -unabridged a column of the newspaper in which some of their doings -are described, but it is too long. It describes[11] how in the course -of about a fortnight they ‘stuck up’ two mails, two public-houses -(shooting at the owner of one, but fortunately not hitting him), a -steamer on the river, and four stations, taking all money, arms, -horses, and valuables they found. Only one man, a mail-man, made -serious resistance. He was mounted, and carried a large duelling pistol -in each sleeve, and a revolver in his belt. Finding he was outnumbered, -he fled, closely pursued by two of the gang, who soon overhauled him. -Pistol shots were exchanged in quick succession, the horses going all -the time at full speed. In the end, the mail-man, after wounding ‘Blue -Cap’ in the hand, had come to his last barrel, when his horse fell -with him, and he was at the mercy of his assailants. ‘Blue Cap’ was -for giving him ten minutes to prepare for death and then shooting him; -but his life was spared at the entreaty of a woman and of one of the -gang who was friendly to him. A very pretty ‘sensation’ story this, one -would have thought, and rather a catch for an editor. But no; it is a -stale subject. And so the newspaper, for want of something better, had -a leader on the expenses of Greenwich Hospital. - -This wholesale plundering of houses and stations does not often happen. -Operations are nowadays generally confined to the road. And usually -no violence is offered except in resisting capture. For unless a -bushranger has already forfeited his life by committing murder he will -abstain from taking life if he can, being pretty sure that for any -number of highway robberies unaccompanied with violence he will only -be punished, at the worst, with penal servitude for life, and that if -he behaves well in prison he may very likely be at large again in ten -years. The owner of a house which is attacked must resist if he has -much to lose which he cannot spare. But in travelling, people generally -prefer to take little that is valuable with them, and to leave their -pistols at home. For the bush which borders all the roads, more or -less, gives the bushranger an almost irresistible advantage. He can -choose his own position, and without being seen cover a driver or a -passenger with his rifle or his revolver, and bid him throw up his -arms or be shot, before the latter has time to get at his pistol. The -traveller cannot be prepared on the instant. To undergo the jolts and -plunges of an Australian coach on Australian roads with a cocked pistol -in one’s hand would be to run a greater risk than any to be apprehended -from bushrangers. They practise, too, a certain contemptuous -Turpin-like courtesy towards passengers, especially poor ones and -women; and often take nothing but the mails. And so the actual loss and -danger from this state of things is not so great as might be supposed. -But the insubordinate and lawless spirit of the population, of which -it is the evidence, is a more serious matter. And it must prevail very -widely. A bushranger’s person and features are generally perfectly well -known in the district where he carries on his depredations. A large -reward is offered for his capture. He could not get food to support him -or clothes to wear without the connivance of a great number of persons. -_With_ their connivance he often pursues a successful career for years; -and it is often only by a lucky accident if the police succeed in -making a capture. - - - - - XI. - - POLITICAL DIFFICULTIES OF NEW SOUTH WALES. - - -If the British public is as ignorant of other things as it is about -Australia, it must be quite as ignorant a public as Mr. Matthew Arnold -would have us believe. It appears to be under an impression that -Australians habitually carry revolvers. It has always persisted in -believing that Botany Bay was the place to which convicts were sent -out, and has a misty idea that that much libelled bay is the port of -Sydney. A person at Hobart Town is requested by an English friend to -invite to dinner occasionally a man who lives at Sydney. Even Lord -Grey invariably spells Port Phillip with one L. And so on. But the -most remarkable blunder I have seen was made by the _Saturday Review_. -It had an article criticising the appointment of Lord Belmore to the -office of ‘Governor-General of the Australian Colonies,’ in blissful -ignorance that no such office exists, or has existed for some years -past. The office referred to was that of Governor of New South Wales. -But it was not only a mistake in a name. The writer laid so much -stress on the paramount importance of the appointment and the power -it conferred, that it is evident that he was under the impression -that a Governor residing at Sydney possesses authority over the other -Australian colonies. I need hardly say that this is no more true than -it is true that the Queen possesses authority over the United States of -America. - -On the all-important land question, legislation has not been much -better in New South Wales than in Victoria. Here, as there, the ‘Free -Selectors’ by force of numbers can carry elections and bend everything -in their favour. The vicious system of balloting for blocks of land -has not been introduced; for the extent of the country and thinness -of the population have made the number of applicants for land in -any one district comparatively few. On the other hand, not merely -certain surveyed areas, as in Victoria, but the whole country, with -the exception of small reserves, is open to free selection at a fixed -price at any time. More than that, if a Squatter wishes to purchase a -piece of his own run, even if no one else has expressed any desire to -purchase it, he must give the requisite public notice to the Government -officer, and then any other person who does not possess land may step -in and buy the piece at the regulation price in preference to him. -Thus, a Selector, made aware by the Squatter’s notice of the portion of -his run which he values most, may (and sometimes does) purchase it as a -speculation, in the hope of annoying him into buying him off in a few -years at an increased price. Every Squatter who leases a run from the -Crown is liable to invasion by Free Selectors. An abatement of rent is -indeed made in case of land being taken from him, but the compensation -is quite inadequate to the loss and injury sustained. For the Selector -has grazing rights over a certain area in addition to the fee-simple -of his block of land, and as he is under no obligation to fence, there -is nothing to prevent his stock from feeding all over the Squatter’s -run. I was told that in some districts it has been found impossible -to carry on cattle stations, and they have been abandoned or turned -into sheep stations, owing to the Selectors. It was notorious that the -latter, having in general little skill in agriculture, and being far -from any market, could exist only by eating or selling the Squatters’ -cattle. Indeed this was pretty well proved by their often disappearing -altogether from the neighbourhood when the keeping of cattle was given -up. With sheep it is not quite so bad. They are under the shepherd’s -eye, and are sooner missed. And according to the bush code of morality, -in some districts cattle are almost _feræ naturæ_, and taking them is -not stealing in the same degree as taking a pocket handkerchief or even -a sheep is. - -A large proportion of the small settlers and Free Selectors in New -South Wales are Irish. The English and Scotch in the Australian -colonies amalgamate easily. They have no national or religious -antipathies to overcome, and frequently even attend each other’s -churches. The Irish remain apart. They generally are glad to get a -government situation of any kind, and are said to make very good -officials, and they contribute the great majority of domestic -servants. One does not hear of many of them being in trade. The greater -number seem to go up the country, as they are generally desirous of -becoming possessors of land, often in larger quantities than they can -turn to profitable account. This desire once accomplished, which is a -very easy matter in New South Wales, their ambition seems to be too -readily satisfied. There seems no reason why a small settler should not -earn money enough to live in comfort and even luxury by occasionally -combining labour for wages with the cultivation of his own land. But, -for what reason I know not, it is seldom that anything like comfort -is to be seen amongst this class up the country. A man will just run -up a rude slab hut for himself and his family, often with room enough -between the slabs to put a hand through. The roof is easily made with -sheets of bark tied on. Sometimes there is not even a window, and only -one hole in the roof for the light to come in and the smoke to go out -at. The floor is the bare ground, good enough in dry weather, in wet -weather very likely killing off a child or two with consumption or -rheumatic fever. The bread they eat is sometimes so bad and so sour -that it is impossible for anyone unused to it to digest it, though any -good bushman can make a damper in the ashes as sweet and wholesome as -possible. Their mutton is often half wasted, and the rest cooked to -the consistency of leather. The bones are thrown away, for who ever -heard of soup or broth in the bush? It is too much trouble to grow -vegetables. I went to one ‘accommodation-house’ (an inferior kind of -inn), where there was a cow and plenty of milk, but it was too much -trouble to drive her in to be milked, or even to tie up her calf so -that she might not stray; and so all the children, two or three of whom -were down with the measles, drank their bad tea, which is the staple -beverage at all meals, and was especially needed here to disguise the -abominable dirtiness of the water, without a drop of milk to it. Why -are not children taught a little about kitchen economy and cooking -at school? In the bush reading and writing are elegant and refined -accomplishments, useful in their way, but mere ornamental accessories -to a complete education compared with the knowledge how to make a loaf -of bread and cook a bit of mutton. - -De Tocqueville remarked on the depression and melancholy expressed -on the countenance of the American backwoodsman and the harassed, -prematurely aged look of the wife. Something of this is to be seen -in the settler in the bush. You seldom see a smile or hear a laugh. -It is not that there is any need to work harder than is good for -health. Still less is there anything approaching to want. But the -great loneliness is very trying to most minds. I have been told by -a shepherd’s wife that she did not see anyone but her husband much -oftener than once in three months, and he was generally away all day, -and often all night. Possibly she may have exaggerated a little. But -this was within four miles of a township and a main road. What must it -be in remote districts, where stations are sometimes twenty miles and -more apart? Shepherding is the most lonely occupation of any, and it is -said that a large proportion of the inmates of colonial lunatic asylums -have been shepherds. If you ask anyone not born in the colony if he or -she would like to go home again, not one in twenty but will wistfully -and unhesitatingly answer ‘Yes;’ though not one in twenty but is richer -and has greater means of living in comfort now than before leaving -home. Not but what it would be a mistake to make too much of this -preference for the old home. Happy memories live while sad ones perish, -and those whom you ask are old now, probably, and were young when they -were at home, and what they really mean (though they don’t exactly know -it) is that they liked being young better than they like being old. - -The Irish here, as everywhere, multiply much faster than the rest of -the population. It is said that at one time great efforts were made -to swamp the rest of the population with Irish emigrants, and make -New South Wales essentially a Roman Catholic colony. There is no -chance of this happening now; but there is an element of disturbance -and lawlessness in their separate and sectarian organization which in -critical times might be dangerous, and is at all times injurious to -political morality. Roman Catholicism among the Irish in Australia -seems to be becoming less a Church than a political society. The -priests are said not to be very strict about a man’s morality, or how -often or how seldom he goes to mass or confesses. If he pays his -subscription to the priest or the new chapel when he is asked for it, -and votes as he is told at the elections, he is a good Roman Catholic. -It may almost be compared to the Vehmgericht, the Jacobin Society, the -Evangelical Alliance, the Reform League, or the Trades’ Unions. For all -these have, or pretend to have, a germ of religion or _quasi_-religion -in them which gives them their strength and coherence; and all have set -up an authority unrecognised by the law, and have exercised influence -chiefly by open or disguised intimidation. - -Their ecclesiastical organization gives the Roman Catholics more -political power than naturally belongs to them. A Squatter told me -that even the maid-servants in his house up the country were called -upon to pay a certain subscription, being assessed sometimes even -as high as ten shillings, and woe to them if they refused! This is -what is commonly called the voluntary system, for the law does not -enforce payment, and its advocates point to the result in triumph. At -the elections, if for any reason it is required of them, they obey -orders, and vote as one man. Any ‘private judgment’ in such a case -would be a grievous offence. A candidate at a coming election for a -town in New South Wales was once asked for a subscription to a Roman -Catholic charity. He promised a liberal donation, on condition that the -money should not be used for proselytizing purposes. This, however, -the applicant for the subscription refused to promise—in fact it was -admitted that the money would be so employed—and so the candidate -declined to give it. This was at Sydney. A few days later he went to -the town where the election was to be, at some distance up the country. -He was unquestionably the popular candidate, and justly so, for he had -been a benefactor to the neighbourhood. To his surprise one or two of -his supporters came to express their regret that they could not vote -for him, but assigned no reason. The election took place, and he was -left behind in a small minority. The electors had obeyed ecclesiastical -orders at the poll. They had not been, in the electioneering sense of -the word, intimidated—had they not had the protection of the ballot, -that infallible nostrum against intimidation?—and they had voted in -accordance with their religious or ecclesiastical conscience, though -against their individual inclination or judgment. Now they were free to -express their own sympathies, which they did by seating the favourite -but defeated candidate in a carriage by the side of the successful one, -and making him share in the triumphal progress round the town. - -This sort of influence is in its origin, if not in its essence, -religious, and therefore out of reach of state interference. But its -effect is political, and by producing a compact and powerful _imperium -in imperio_, might become subversive of good government to a very -serious extent, under a constitution in which a numerical majority, -however composed, is all-powerful. If a third of the population, or -thereabouts, choose to abdicate their individual wills and delegate -their united strength to nobody knows who, bishop or conclave or -priest, it may produce very serious political results. - -People talk glibly enough about separation of Church and State as -if it were a mere matter of pounds, shillings, and pence, a very -simple connection capable of being made or dissolved in a moment by a -vote or an Act of Parliament. But it sometimes happens that a man’s -Church allegiance and his State allegiance are much too intricately -interwoven for any Act of any Parliament to separate. Where a man’s -religious creed (if he have any) centres, there generally will his -political heart be also. The old Whig notion of a population holding -all possible different beliefs and disbeliefs and yet remaining none -the less cordially loyal to the State, may be a wholesome ideal for a -statesman to have in his mind, but is impossible—even if desirable—to -be really attained. The ex-Queen of Spain a short time ago sent a very -handsome present of church-plate to the Roman Catholic Cathedral at -Sydney. There was a great festival of the Roman Catholics on occasion -of its being consecrated or placed in the Cathedral. It would have been -interesting, if it had been possible, to analyse this _rapprochement_ -between Roman Catholic Spain and Roman Catholic Australia, and to -discover how much was political and how much religious in it. Probably -many an Irishman, if he had been asked, would have honestly answered -that he believed the Queen of Spain to be the best and noblest of -Sovereigns, and her government the most just, liberal, and enlightened -in Europe; and if an occasion offered would vote or act in accordance -with that idea, as with a similar idea the Irish joined the Papal army -to fight the King of Italy some years ago. - -Fortunately, Australia is a long way from Rome, and it may be hoped -that the ultramontane element in Romanism may give place gradually to -a purer and more enlightened, if less strictly consistent and logical, -secular patriotism. I believe there are some slight indications of -this, here and there, already. _Cælum non animum mutant qui trans mare -currunt_ is a maxim which does not apply so closely when the voyage is -a very long one. But it may perhaps take a generation or two before any -great change takes place, and in the meantime the element of divided -allegiance is a dangerous one in the hands of the fanatical or the -unscrupulously ambitious. - -A few months ago the Roman Catholic chaplain of one of the Sydney -convict establishments was found to be systematically inculcating -Fenianism on his flock of gaol birds. He was dismissed. But from the -outcry made in the House of Assembly and elsewhere about certain -formalities or informalities in the manner of his dismissal, it was -evident that the sympathies of many were with him. This is the more -significant, from the fact that the priests in Ireland have, ostensibly -at least, opposed the Fenian movement. - -Not twenty years ago an Irishman who for a seditious libel had -become acquainted with the inside of a gaol, and through a technical -legal mistake had narrowly escaped a second conviction, emigrated to -Melbourne. His reputation had preceded him, and he was received on -landing with an ovation and a very handsome present of several thousand -pounds. In responding he showed his sense of the course of conduct -which had procured him this popularity, and announced with emphasis -that he always had been and always should be a _rebel to the backbone_. -Within a few years he was a member of the Ministry, and holding one -of the most important offices in it. Being now comparatively wealthy -and enjoying a very large pension for not very arduous services, he -has become rather conservative than otherwise—does not altogether go -with the present Government in the matter of the Lady Darling vote, -for instance—and would fain have it forgotten, it is said, that he is -pledged for life to ceaseless rebellion. - - - - - XII. - - ARISTOCRACY AND KAKISTOCRACY. - - -The members of the Upper House or Legislative Council of New South -Wales are nominated for life by the Governor, not elected, like those -of Victoria and Tasmania, by a higher-class constituency. This plan -was adopted by the framers of the Constitution with the intention of -giving it a Conservative character. The effect has been the reverse of -what was intended. A nominee of the Governor is generally in reality a -nominee of the Ministry for the time being. Subject to his consent, it -is in the power of the Ministry to swamp the Council by the creation -of new members, and thus obtain a preponderating majority; and on -at least one occasion this has been done. It is indeed understood -that the Governor who gave his consent much regrets having done so, -and it may be hoped that the experiment will not be repeated. But -the authority of a legislative chamber cannot fail to be impaired by -the bare possibility of such treatment. Under the most favourable -circumstances, the Members, being nominated for having already attained -a certain position in the colony, are not likely to be very young -when appointed; and as they hold their seats for life, it is likely -that there will generally be an unduly large proportion of old men. -A Council so constituted, and having but little prestige of superior -birth or education to support it, is not likely to be a match for -a capricious and turbulent Lower House, borne on the flood-tide of -present popularity, and ever ready to provide for present emergencies -at the expense of the future. Hence it is not to be wondered at if it -does not occupy so prominent a position relatively as the Victorian -Council, which has lately so firmly and successfully opposed the -unconstitutional proceedings of a Ministry supported by a large -majority of the Lower House, and by a small majority of the population. - -In answer to a question as to the character and composition of the -Lower House, or Legislative Assembly, I was told that it was _now_ -no worse than that of Victoria. Probably this was about as much as -could be said for it. The facts which I mentioned in a former letter -concerning the Victorian Assembly may be an assistance in estimating -the force of the comparison. I may add that since I wrote, one of its -Members has been sentenced to a term of imprisonment for forgery, -and the keeper of one of the most notoriously disreputable taverns -in Melbourne has entered it, being chosen for an important district -in preference to an opponent who is an old colonist, an educated -gentleman, and a man of unquestionable ability and integrity. - -One does not, however, hear in Sydney of the wholesale corruption, -the taking of palpable 10_l._ notes, universally attributed to -several legislators of the sister colony. The present Ministry of Mr. -Martin and Mr. Parkes, in spite of some recent failures in finance, -is generally described by reliable people as about the best since -the existing Constitution came into force; and as the Opposition -is weak, and contains few, if any, men of ability, the Government -can do things pretty much in its own way. But other Administrations -have been less powerful, and when they felt themselves tottering -have, in order to prolong their lease of office a little longer, -been sometimes by no means fastidious in the means they employed to -obtain support. Different people were to be conciliated in different -ways, and one of the results was the creation of a certain number of -_Windmill Magistrates_. Lest the term _Windmill Magistrate_ should be -unintelligible to those who are not fully initiated into the mysteries -of colonial democracy, perhaps I should explain that there have been -persons aspiring, and not always in vain, to the honour of being -magistrates, whose early education was not very comprehensive, and who, -not being able to sign their names, were in the habit of affixing their -mark x instead. The supposed resemblance of this mark to the sails of a -windmill suggested the term. - -Whatever be the cause or causes, the Legislative Assembly certainly -is not held in much respect. It is in vain that its members strive -to assert their importance by voting themselves free passes on the -railways and a Members’ Stand at the races. The leading Sydney paper, -‘The Sydney Morning Herald,’ has been publishing a series of articles, -appearing two or three times a week, entitled ‘The Collective Wisdom -of New South Wales,’ in which all the bad grammar, bad language, and -extravagant and unbecoming behaviour of the Members, not mentioned -in the reports of the debates, are chronicled and commented on. The -following observations are from a leading article (not from one of the -series I have alluded to) in the same paper,[12] which is as temperate -and well conducted as any in Australia:— - - ‘The specimens we have had of ribaldry and vituperation are, - unhappily, too familiar with the Assembly, and even these hardly - represent what is heard within the precincts of the Houses. We say, - and with much regret, that there are members pretending to political - leadership whose language would be a disgrace to a stable; who, when - excited by drink or passion, pour out a stream of invective which - is not merely blasphemous, but filthy. They have no hesitation to - couple the names of persons with whom they have had more or less - friendly intercourse, according as the changes of private interest or - political sentiment may permit.... We believe that such language is - rarely heard in British society of the present day. That it lingers - in some parts of New South Wales is to be traced to causes which we - shall not describe more specially, but which will, we hope, some - day disappear. It is unfortunate when men who have been taught from - their early youth to express themselves in a strain which becomes - too natural by indulgence are in a position to propagate their - example.... We can produce proofs to establish every syllable we - say, namely, that the conspicuous men in the House, with one or two - exceptions, have been for the last seven years accustomed to speak - of each other in such terms as gentlemen never apply, and excepting - under the power of that mighty principle which conquers resentment, - which gentlemen never forgive.’ - -Here is an extract from a debate in the Sydney Legislative -Assembly:—[13] - - ‘_Mr. M._ said that he only knew of one minister who ever attempted - to make political capital out of religious differences. - - ‘_An Hon. Member._—Who? - - ‘_Mr. M._—The Colonial Secretary. - - ‘_An Hon. Member._—“Shut up!” - - ‘_Voices._—“Boots,” “laughing jackass,” and other remarks, the - application of which could only be seen by persons actually present, - and the import of which it is hardly worth while to explain. - - ‘_An Hon. Member._—“How’s your nose?” - - ‘_Mr. M._—Sir, I am sober; I hope you are. - - ‘_An Hon. Member._—“Who?” - - ‘_Mr. M._—Is the hon. member addressing me or addressing the chair? - - ‘_Mr. F._—The hon. member is addressing the “jackass.” - - ‘_An Hon. Member._—Is that the “jackass?” - - ‘_Mr. M._—I have been told that there are liars and blackguards in - this House, and I believe there are one or two. - - ‘_Mr. P._—I can see one now. - - ‘_Mr. F._—I move that the words be taken down. - - ‘The words having been taken down by the clerk, and handed to the - Chairman, - - ‘_Mr. G._ read—“I see one now.” (Great laughter.) - - ‘_Mr. F._.—I have no hesitation in saying that the hon. member meant - to say, and I do not think the hon. member is coward enough to deny— - - ‘_Mr. P._.—Does the hon. member accuse me of cowardice? Let him come - outside and do it. - - ‘_Mr. L._—The hon. member does not accuse you of cowardice. - - ‘_Mr. P._—I know what he means. Let him come outside and say it. - - ‘_Mr. H._ called attention to the presence of strangers in the House, - and the reporters were again directed to withdraw. - - ‘Up to our going to press, the House continued to sit with closed - doors.’ - -As I write, the following account of a debate in the House, telegraphed -to the Melbourne papers, is brought in:— - - ‘The Opposition prevented a single item of the Estimates passing last - night. During the debate a disgraceful scene took place. Mr. Forster - insinuated that the Premier began his public career with perjury. - Mr. Martin (the Premier) called Mr. Forster a liar and a blackguard - repeatedly. The galleries were cleared, and the disorder lasted for - two hours. Mr. Martin’s words were taken down, but the Government - members carried the previous question. Mr. Martin then apologized.’ - -Nor do members always confine their abusive language to each other. It -sometimes happens that they bring charges against persons outside the -House which those persons have no opportunity of answering, and for -which, if false and libellous, no legal redress can be obtained, as -the speakers are protected by privilege of Parliament. One of the very -best and most valuable institutions of Sydney is the Grammar-school. -Unfortunately there have been disputes about its management, and it has -its enemies. One day a member rose in the House and charged one of the -masters with habitually using expressions of the grossest blasphemy. -The accused demanded of the School trustees an investigation. It was -held. The charge broke down completely, being supported solely by the -evidence of another master who in cross-examination was compelled to -confess himself guilty of a string of deliberate falsehoods. Yet no -retractation was made, no apology offered. - -This state of things is not cheering. Men of by no means conservative -or retrograde instincts will tell you sadly that it was not always so, -that sixteen or seventeen years ago, in the days of mixed government, -not only was the colony better governed, but it was in many respects in -a sounder and healthier condition generally. The wealthy were not so -wealthy, but neither were the poor so poor. There was work for all who -wanted it, and at high wages. Now there is not a little pauperism and -distress. Immigration was steadily increasing then; now it has almost -ceased. - -What is the cause? It is always dangerous to attempt to couple cause -and effect in political matters, especially when events are so nearly -contemporary. But there can be no doubt that the discovery of gold, -if it has conferred wealth and brought advantages, has also brought -serious temporary disadvantages which have not yet passed away. -It would be hard to strike a balance between them. The population -was greatly increased. But the whole framework of industry was -put out of gear, and has hardly yet recovered the shock; and the -stream of immigration was not, as in Victoria, so great as to give -an entirely new character to the colony and its population, and to -build the framework afresh. It gave, too, a sudden and undue impulse -to extreme democratic tendencies; and I think that the majority of -well-informed men look upon the extreme democratic character of the -existing constitution as amongst the principal causes of much of the -misgovernment and corruption that exist. There are indeed few who ever -say so publicly, and withstand Demos to his face; but at least one -man, long the foremost champion of the anti-bureaucratic or popular -party, to whom that party, in the days when they had real grievances -to complain of, owed more than to anyone, has not shrunk from saying -openly what he thinks or from deploring publicly the evil results of -universal suffrage in the colony.[14] - -It is bad enough to have bad legislation. But it is a much worse -matter when those who originate it do so from weak or selfish motives, -_knowing_ that it is bad. In view of much that has been done, it -is almost impossible to doubt that this has not infrequently been -the case of late years in some of the Australian colonies, when we -consider the comparatively high intellectual abilities of some of the -leading statesmen, and consider also the notoriously low character -of the various Legislative Assemblies with which they have had to -deal. I believe the worst measures, amongst which the land-laws are -pre-eminent, will in general be found to have been simply bids for -popular support at the expense of common sense, common honour, and -common patriotism, by men clinging selfishly to office for its own -sake, and indifferent to the ultimate consequences of their policy. - -In Tasmania things are not so bad. And that colony is at the present -time singularly fortunate in possessing a Colonial Secretary whose name -is a guarantee of fair and honourable dealing in the conduct of public -affairs, who, unlike too many Australasian Colonial Secretaries, does -not live with the love of office and the fear of Demos ever before -his eyes. But the religion of Demos is not without a footing even -there. I will give an instance, slight in itself, but significant. The -Tasmanian climate does not admit the wine being made. Beer is made, -but it is almost as dear as imported English beer. There is no cheap -beverage, and as the climate (compared with that of England) is hot -and dry, it would be a great boon, one would think, to be able to -get the excellent, cheap light clarets and hocks of New South Wales. -Unfortunately, there is an import duty of eight shillings a dozen, -which, added to other charges, is, of course, simply prohibitory. -Customs’ revenue is sorely needed, as the returns have been falling off -alarmingly for some years; and it is indisputable that a reduction of -the duty on light wines would increase the amount of revenue from that -source. But Demos does not drink light wine. His particular libation -is rum. And so it is admitted that no one could venture to propose -the reduction, because Demos, though his own pockets would gain by it, -would raise an irresistible outcry at anyone getting wine cheap which -he does not care for, unless at the same time the duty on rum were -lowered, which the revenue cannot afford. - -Great is the god Demos of the Australians! He is lavish in his rewards -to his votaries while his favour lasts. But he is fickle, and must -be humoured to the top of his bent, and worshipped with unswerving -devotion. As long as statesmen bow at his shrine, so long will there -be danger that Legislative Assemblies will be contemptible, individual -members corrupt, magistrates incompetent, and the mass of the people -tempted to lose reverence and regard for Queen, country, and law; so -long also will successive ministries be compelled to go from bad to -worse, to foster class prejudices and jealousies, to persistently -misstate points at issue between them and their opponents, as the -Victorian Ministers are doing at the elections now going on; so long -also will their supporters not shrink even from exciting sedition -by using language like the threat uttered the other day by the -ministerialist candidate for North Gipps Land that ‘the crack of the -rifle may yet be heard beneath the windows of the Legislative Council.’ - -Some day or other, it may be, the question will be asked, Who destroyed -a great empire? Who prematurely broke, or indolently suffered to be -broken, a dominion that might have endured for generations? It will -not, indeed, be easy to apportion the blame justly. Doubtless it would -have been as practicable to dam up the river Hawkesbury in flood as to -have simply defied the torrent of popular impulses in Australia. But -all need not have been given up without a struggle. Something might -have been saved, as by a little courage and skill a homestead here, an -acre of corn there, is rescued from the flood. A Pitt, a Cromwell, even -a Wellington with his simple straightforward love of good government in -any form, would surely have done, or at least tried to do, something, -whether popular or unpopular, to secure the ‘carrying on of the Queen’s -government’ firmly and honestly in her Australian colonies. But for the -last sixteen years or so, since the old traditions of the conservative -party have been abandoned, and it has been bidding for popular support -by seeking to outdo its opponents in democratic concessions, the -government of Australia by the Colonial Office has been gradually -tending to become a simple ‘cutting of straps,’ and attempting, with -very little regard to ultimate consequences, to please everybody, and -fall in with the popular cry for the time being, whatever it might -happen to be. - -It is true that there were no aristocracies worthy of the name in -the Australian colonies in whom a restraining power could be reposed -(although in Victoria an aristocracy of mere wealth—perhaps the -least desirable form of aristocracy—has by its representatives, the -Legislative Council, just made a conspicuously steadfast and honourable -stand against lawlessness and wrong). But surely some substantial -power might have been left to the Governors. It would not have been -difficult to have established some plan for so doing, with which the -great majority of the colonists would have been well satisfied. It -has been suggested to me by one who has had great colonial experience -that the simple expedient of giving the Ministry for the time being -_ex-officio_ seats in the Legislative Assembly, would have had -considerable effect, especially in the less populous colonies, in -increasing the political influence of the Governor. - -If this is not apparent at first sight, a little consideration will -perhaps make it so. It must be remembered that in a colony where the -population is comparatively small and public questions less numerous -and intricate long parliamentary experience and skill in debate are not -so absolutely essential to a Minister. It is quite possible that the -fittest man to be Colonial Secretary or Treasurer may have had neither -the opportunity nor the desire to obtain a seat in the Parliament; for -the worthiest and fittest men have ordinarily little temptation to seek -for one. Under the present system the Governor’s choice of Ministers is -practically confined to those who are in parliament. But if Ministers -held seats _ex officio_, the Governor might choose anyone he liked and -seat him at once. No doubt the Houses must so far ratify the Governor’s -choice as to give his Minister a majority, otherwise he could not carry -his measures or remain in office; and this would suffice to prevent any -specially unpopular man or policy from being put forward. But, in the -first place, the mere addition of from three to seven votes in a House -of from thirty to seventy members would be some slight addition to the -strength of Government. This, however, is but a small matter. What is -more important is that it would do much to prevent the growth, and to -interfere with the organisation, of a merely factious Opposition. This -sort of Opposition, based, as is generally the case in the colonial -parliaments, on no sort of political principle, but cohering merely -with the selfish and almost avowed object of seizing an opportunity for -ousting Ministers and occupying their places, is a serious impediment -to good and honest government. It is always on the watch to catch -any passing breeze of popular clamour as a means of tripping up the -Government, and the Government is in self-defence obliged to be equally -amenable and subservient. When the Administration appears strong, -and seems likely to remain in, the Members of the House crowd their -ranks for the sake of the loaves and fishes; and the Opposition is -left scarcely strong enough to exercise legitimate control over the -expenditure. But when the loaves and fishes are nearly all gone, and -especially if there is any suspicion of ministerial insecurity, there -comes a serious defection from their supporters. Thus the Opposition -may be composed chiefly of disappointed deserters from the other side, -and in a small colony may sometimes contain scarcely a single man of -weight or ability, or who is in any way fitted to be entrusted with -office. Yet it is worth while for them to persist and to watch their -opportunities, for sooner or later every Ministry must fall, and -under the present system the Governor has no choice but to send for -the leader of Opposition, or, in the absence of anyone entitled to -be so considered, for the mover of the motion the success of which -has caused the crisis. Now the effect of giving _ex-officio_ seats -to Ministers would be this. The knowledge that the Governor might, -if he thought fit, make his next selection of advisers from outside -Parliament altogether, would make the objects pursued by a merely -factious Opposition too uncertain of attainment to be worth contending -for with such persistence. The prospect of being possibly left out in -the cold altogether would weaken their cohesion and diminish their -strength; while to a corresponding extent the Government would be -strengthened, and would be better enabled to dispense with those means -of conciliating their supporters which are so fertile a source of -one-sided class-legislation and of corruption. - -In its Colonial Governors, England possesses a body of tried and -faithful servants in whom it may well place confidence. Many of -them have had experience and training from their youth upwards in -the work of governing. The Home Government can select them from any -profession; it can appoint them on the simple ground of fitness without -any arbitrary or technical qualification; it can recall them at its -pleasure. Gentlemen by birth and education, many of them picked men -from the army or navy (almost the only callings in modern times where -men learn to obey, and therefore the fittest for learning to command), -impartial upon the petty local questions which vex colonial statesmen, -they are (with an exception here and there) eminently well qualified -for governing new and unsettled communities, and in three cases out -of four infinitely superior in ability, as in everything else, to the -Ministers whose advice they are now obliged to follow. Of course, -there have been exceptions, and because of them no one would for a -moment wish to see restored the almost absolute power which Governors -possessed in the very early days when they had no one to rule over but -soldiers and convicts. But surely it was a fatal mistake by a stroke -of the pen to limit the functions of the not unworthy successors of -the Phillipses, the Collinses, and the Bourkes, to holding levées and -giving balls. - -Sir Charles Hotham, when Governor of Victoria, foreseeing what would -happen, when some modifications of the Constitution were sent home for -ratification, wrote a despatch pointing out the powerless condition to -which his authority was being reduced. It was not perhaps altogether a -logical or judicious despatch. Sir Charles Hotham was a sailor, without -any previous experience in government, promoted from the quarterdeck -to a most difficult and responsible position, at a most critical -time; and it was not surprising if he had not thoroughly mastered the -intricate clauses of a Constitution Act. But if Lord John Russell -(then at the Colonial Office) had wished to discredit the Queen’s -Representative, he could hardly have done it more effectually than he -did by publishing the despatch, to be a butt (which at that time, -from its Conservative tone, it was sure to be) for the vituperation -of the colonial press.[15] Up to this time the Colonial Governors had -found it impossible to obtain from the Colonial Office at home even an -outline of the course they were to pursue with reference to the new -Constitutions. No instructions whatever were vouchsafed in answer to -their enquiries. But at last the Secretary for the Colonies had spoken -out. There was a significance about the publication of this despatch -which could not be mistaken. Sir Charles Hotham died a few months -afterwards, worn out by overwork, anxiety, and hostility on all sides. -And since that time every Governor in a constitutional colony knows -that his office is all but a cipher, and that the Colonial Office is -content to have it so. - -I have known a Governor ask his Ministers for a simple Return, for -the information of the Home Government, for three years, without -succeeding in obtaining it. Even their social power is curtailed. -Marks of distinction, instead of being conferred according to their -recommendation, are given at haphazard, often to the most unfit -recipients. Perhaps as effectual and desirable a means, as far as it -goes, of preserving a close union and sympathy between the colonists -and the old country would be to induce the sons of colonists to serve -in the British Army and Navy. It was accordingly suggested that -Governors should have the power of recommending for a certain number of -commissions. The Home Government approved, and expressed its approval -by according to each of the Australian Governors the astonishing -privilege of presenting to _one_ cadetship in the Navy _once in three -years_! - - - - - XIII. - - MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. - - -There exists in England a school of politicians, or economists, which -considers it desirable that the Australasian colonies should at once, -or before long, be cast loose from the Mother-country. There are -doubtless some amongst the colonists who are of the same opinion; but I -believe that they are very few in number, and that it will be England’s -fault, more than that of her colonies, if—in our day at least—the -Empire is broken up. - -Of course it is easy to point to mistakes made by the Home Government -in the old days when it had all the power and responsibility in its own -hands. And since self-government has been accorded to the colonies, -faults of a different kind have been committed on both sides. Latterly, -and while Administrations in England have been displacing each other so -rapidly, and throwing out feelers for all the support they could get, -there has been an increasing disposition to yield indolently to every -passing cry of the hour with too little regard to ultimate results, -and sometimes to the discouragement of the most loyal, temperate, and -far-seeing among the colonists. On the other hand, the colonists have -now and then shown themselves eager to claim the privileges without -bearing the responsibilities of Englishmen. - -Chief amongst vexed questions, in old times, was that of -transportation. For many years there was frequent vacillation in the -policy of the Home Government. Each new Head of the Colonial Office -had his own plan to carry out, and the consequence was either to flood -the colonies with convicts, or else to stop the supply too abruptly. -One unfortunately expressed despatch was misunderstood, and gave rise, -not unnaturally, to a charge of breach of faith with the inhabitants -of Van Diemen’s Land.[16] The excessive and unreasonable number of -convicts which had been poured in upon them gave the Tasmanians just -cause for protesting as they did (not unanimously indeed, but by a -large majority) against the continuance of transportation in any form -to their own shores. But, on the other hand, it gave the Victorians -no excuse for so unreasonable a demand, as that it should cease -thenceforward to all Australia, lest a stray convict should escape now -and then to their own colony. Western Australia, for instance, has an -impassable desert between it and any other colony, and communication -by sea is very infrequent; and its free inhabitants, like the free -inhabitants of most of the other colonies in their early stages of -development, have been asking for convicts as a boon. And there -is still an enormous amount of coast-line and territory unsettled, -where it is very probable that convicts may, at some future time, be -an advantage. It is unreasonable that colonies should claim to draw -from the able-bodied and politically untainted population of the -Mother-country just as they choose; that they should have the power to -bribe them out, or discourage their coming, just as it happens to suit -their ideas of what will benefit themselves; and yet that they should -exclaim against taking at least their share of the criminally-disposed, -or even pauper, part, which their vast extent of country renders -comparatively innocuous, and for the amelioration of whose condition -it affords such advantages. It is as unreasonable and selfish and -‘colonial’ (to use the word in the bad sense which it sometimes bears -in Australia), as if Torquay or Madeira were to refuse to admit -consumptive patients among their visitors, or Belgravia object to -afford a site to St. George’s Hospital. - -If the wishes or demands of the colonists were in old times treated -with too little consideration, the reaction has been excessive. When -the colonies were given up under their new Constitutions, almost -without reserve, each to its own local government, the arrangement -under which it was effected was a most one-sided one. In its origin -Australia, taken as a whole, is essentially a Crown settlement. But -for Captain Cook, a king’s officer sailing in a king’s ship, and but -for transportation, which followed soon after, it might not have -held an Englishman till half a century later; or it might have been a -French possession, as the Middle Island of New Zealand was within six -hours of being. Phillip, Hunter, Collins, Flinders, Bass, the early -heroes and discoverers of Australia, were king’s officers, military -or naval. Millions from the Imperial treasury were spent in wharves, -lighthouses, roads, bridges, public buildings. With this money, and -by convict labour, was the country made habitable and valuable. Even -Victoria, though no convicts ever were sent direct to Port Phillip, was -colonised from New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land, and it was by -convict shepherds that it was first made productive and opened up—of -which the discovery of gold was the consequence. All the public works, -and the whole of the territory of each colony, occupied or unoccupied, -surveyed or unsurveyed, were surrendered as a free gift. I say as a -gift; for that a quarter or half a million of inhabitants should assert -an exclusive claim to millions of acres never utilised and hardly -explored, would be about as unreasonable as was John Batman’s claim -to possess all the shores of Port Phillip because he was the first to -pitch his tent there. What the value of the Crown lands thus given up -may amount to in fifty or a hundred years it is impossible to give -the wildest guess, but at any rate it will be measured by hundreds of -millions. And for all this the only obligation given in return was the -annual charge of the Civil List—a mere payment to the Governor and his -staff. And even this has sometimes been grudged. The payment to the -Governor of Victoria was reduced, and an attempt has lately been made -to reduce that to the Governor of Tasmania, with as much reason as if -half the price of a horse were to be claimed back by the buyer years -after it had been bought. - -Nor was any pledge asked or given that Australian markets should be -kept open to English manufactures. The result already has been that one -colony after another has been establishing and increasing protective -duties, which as respects some articles are almost prohibitory to -English goods. The only stipulation made was that duties charged to -England should be charged equally to all the world, so as to let in -English manufactures on the same terms with foreign and those from -other colonies. Even this it is now sought to have relaxed, so as to -establish intercolonial free-trade, in which the Mother-country is not -to be admitted to share. - -But there is no use in dwelling too long on past mistakes. As to the -future, I must confess myself unable to understand how any Englishman -could fail to feel it as a deep disgrace, if, unsolicited and for the -sake of any real or imaginary commercial advantage, or from sheer -laziness and unwillingness to bear an honourable responsibility, we -were to renounce our inheritance in our colonies. Great as the loss -would be to us, to them it would assuredly be far greater in every -respect. Without the protection of a strong naval Power they would be -simply at the mercy of the first powerful fleet and army which France, -Russia, or the United States might send to take possession of them. -The smallness of the population, the extent of coast, and the wide -distances between the few large towns, would make defence, however -resolute, against any considerable force altogether unavailing. The -gold-mines of Ballarat and Bendigo and the copper-mines of Burra-burra -are as rich and tempting to an invader as anything in Siberia or -Persia, or in Algeria or Mexico. - -No doubt it is possible that a Federation or union of some kind might -be devised, not under the British Crown, but having an alliance -offensive and defensive with it. But it is difficult to conceive of -any such which would last. If Australia were to enter into distinct -diplomatic relations with other Powers, European or other, it would -soon become impossible for us to take up their quarrels, or for them -to take up ours. As their union would not be very close, their policy -would not be likely to be a very steady or consistent one. - -For the climate of different parts of the continent differs widely, -the productions are increasingly different; hence, and from many other -causes, men’s habits, ideas, and tastes tend to divergence rather -than to convergence. Already there are occasional manifestations of -antagonism between some of the different colonies, which, though slight -and comparatively harmless under a common but separate allegiance, -might become more serious between members of a Federation. It was a -good joke, and not an ill-timed one under the circumstances, for -Melbourne, before Victoria was a separate colony, to elect Lord Grey -as its representative to the House of Assembly at Sydney, by way of a -hint that it really was time for them to be a colony by themselves. -But it is a little too much, now that it has been all settled to their -satisfaction years ago, and Melbourne has long since shot ahead of -Sydney in population and importance, to keep ‘Separation-day’ as a -general holiday and day of rejoicing, as if New South Wales were the -one thing on earth from which they were thankful for deliverance. Such -manifestations do not bode well for future union. - -If anyone wishes to form a conception of the narrowing and -deteriorating influences which must exist, even under the present -or the most favourable circumstances, in a colony, for instance, of -the size of Tasmania, let him imagine the inhabitants of any English -provincial town amounting to nearly a hundred thousand, spread over -a country as big as Ireland, and encircled by a wall through which -there can only be communication perhaps twice a week with two or -three neighbouring provincial towns, and only once a month with the -rest of the world, from which, too, all communications must wait -seven weeks till they are delivered. Would Nottingham or Bristol, or -even Birmingham or Manchester, be likely to contribute much to the -enlightenment of mankind under such circumstances? People in England -do not realise what drops in the ocean of territory the Australian -populations are. The wonder rather is how _much_ intellectual energy -there is, and how favourably the population of many of the colonies -would compare with that of many manufacturing towns at home. But of -those who now go to Australia from England, an overwhelming proportion -are from the labouring or comparatively unlearned classes. The -proportion of clergymen, barristers, and university men who go out now -is very insignificant compared with what it once was, and anything -which caused it to diminish still more would be a misfortune. Local -interests and local connections make it difficult for an emigrant from -England any longer to compete in the race with the colonial-born in -any profession with much chance of success. It was my good fortune to -be present at a gathering at Melbourne of all old Oxford and Cambridge -men who could be collected. There were about thirty present. They -included the Governor, the Bishop, two or three leading politicians -of the Opposition—the rest chiefly professors, clergymen, barristers, -squatters, or doctors. Considering its small number it was a remarkably -influential group. But I was struck with the regretful but unhesitating -opinion expressed, that the number was likely to diminish rather -than to increase, especially in the ranks of the clergy. In all the -professions this is to be regretted, and amongst the clergy more -particularly, because it is upon them as a class that any narrowness -or incompleteness of education tells with most fatal effect. There are -indeed both at Melbourne and at Sydney, Universities, which as far as -I could judge are excellently managed and liberally supported, and -unquestionably contain professors of the very first rank of ability. -But it is impossible for any colonial university, in the midst of -a small society in which almost all interests are swamped in the -overwhelming one of commerce, to carry education to a very high point. -A few people who are particularly anxious for a good education for -their sons, send them home for five or six years; but most are content -with a colonial university for them, and often remove them when they -are still almost boys. - -There are many causes to account for the diminishing supply of -well-educated clergymen from home. A clergyman’s position in a -colony is very different from what it is in England. For liberty and -subsistence he is more at the mercy of others. To a certain extent -(to what extent I do not know) there are fixed stipends attached to -parochial cures, but in the absence of a regularly established and -endowed Church, the clergy are likely to be much more than in England -dependent for subsistence upon their popularity. Many high-minded -clergymen are naturally reluctant to put themselves in a position -where their very bread may depend upon their catering successfully for -the tastes of their parishioners, and where they would be constantly -under the temptation to devote their energies merely or chiefly to -exciting or amusing their hearers once a week. The fixed annual grants -originally given out of the State-funds to the clergy are being -gradually withdrawn, either ceasing with the lives of the present -holders, or having been commuted for a lump sum paid to a trust-fund. -In one township in New South Wales it was satisfactory to find that the -inhabitants had insured the life of the present incumbent, with whom -‘State-aid’ (as it is called) was to cease, and were paying the annual -premiums, so as at his death to have a sum to invest in trust for his -successors—to endow a living, in fact. - -Happily for its peace, representatives of the extreme religious parties -of the Church are rare in Australia. An underpaid and overworked clergy -has not either time or money to spare for imitating Roman Catholic -vestments or Exeter Hall invective. The Scotch often join in helping to -build an English church, and are regular attendants upon its services. -Hence, fortunately, it has seldom if ever been necessary to ascertain -what the exact legal status of a clergyman of the Church of England in -the various colonies is—how, for instance, and for what, and by whom -he is removeable—and I never could get any very clear account of it. -I believe it is at the present time somewhat undefined and uncertain. -Ecclesiastical synods are held from time to time, and (especially at -Sydney) seem to do a good deal of business, and to be possessed of -considerable responsibility and power. But in general the bishop of -each diocese appoints the clergy to their cures, and has, I believe, -the absolute power of removing or suspending them. The bishops are -naturally unwilling to exercise this last power except for flagrant -moral offences, and for causes in which they and the parishioners -interested concur. But it is a power so obviously liable to abuse that -the right of appeal from it seems indispensable. - -All these difficulties and evils are likely to be increased by -separation from the Mother-Church at home. In Victoria the clergy -almost without a dissentient voice subscribed to the earnest protest -which was sent to England against any scheme of Church separation. -Religious and ecclesiastical isolation is worse than secular in the -same degree that religious and ecclesiastical life has a greater -tendency than secular to narrowness and intensity. I cannot but -think that the separation of the different colonial churches from -the English Church would be a wilful removal of a precious safeguard -against religious ignorance, bigotry, and intolerance, and that -the substitution of the final authority of local synods or bishops -or parish-vestries for that of the wide but definite limits of the -Articles, interpreted by that bulwark of the liberty of the English -clergy, the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, would be, not to -give liberty, but to bind on the clergy heavy fetters and grievous to -be borne. - -I cannot conceive it possible, as some do, that political and -ecclesiastical separation could fail to promote isolation of ideas, to -diminish the flow of intercourse and sympathy, and to breed jealousies -and heartburnings between the new country and the old. The Mails might -go as often, ships and steamers be as numerous, and commerce carried on -as before. But if commercial intercourse unites countries in the bonds -of peace and mutual interests, it also, when pushed too eagerly and -too exclusively, may rouse the spirit of covetousness, selfishness, -jealousy, and division. Those who have leaned upon commerce as a -sufficient means of bringing peace and good-will upon earth have, -sooner or later, found that they have been leaning on a broken reed. -A glance at Australia will show how little ‘well-established and -enlightened commercial principles’ are carried out by those who fancy -they can gain a temporary pecuniary advantage by repudiating them. - -That the attachment to the Old Country and to the Crown is strong, -is abundantly evident everywhere. It is stronger of course with the -English-born than the native-born, and hence it is particularly -observable in Victoria. It is seldom that even the most contemptible -demagogues venture to trifle with it. Amongst other small items -of English news, the Mail once brought word that a leading Oxford -Professor was going to leave England and settle in America. Such a -thing would scarcely be noticed in an English newspaper, but it was -thought worthy of being announced amongst the items of intelligence -telegraphed from Adelaide in advance of the mail-steamer, and was -alluded to by the leading Melbourne paper with a shout of satisfaction. -Yet the paper had no complaint to make of him except one. He had made -himself conspicuous amongst those who have declared themselves in -favour of turning the colonies adrift. - -It is in the nature of things almost inevitable that the second -generation of a colony should be inferior to the first. The struggles -and hardships which pioneer settlers have to encounter constitute a -discipline and confer an experience such as scarcely any other life -can afford, and are a great contrast to the routine life and physical -comforts to which the next generation succeeds. These old colonists, -too, have had an old-world training in addition to the experience of -the new. They know well how much they owe to having been born and bred -amongst the historic monuments and associations of the old country -of their forefathers, and that it is not mere foolish sentiment that -binds them to it. None feel so keenly how real and not sentimental is -the loss which their children suffer by being removed from and in part -deprived of them. None regret so bitterly the relaxing and severing of -bond after bond, or (if it were in danger) would cling so closely to -the last but strongest bond of all—allegiance to the English Throne. - - - - - XIV. - - HOME AGAIN. - - -The voyage home from Australia is a less easy and pleasant one than -the voyage out. Owing to the prevalence of strong westerly winds for -the greater part of the year in the South Pacific and Southern Indian -Ocean, homeward-bound ships almost invariably sail eastward round Cape -Horn, though the distance that way is greater, instead of westwards by -the Cape of Good Hope. In rounding Cape Horn they must go to at least -56° south, and these latitudes have a disagreeable reputation for heavy -gales, fogs, icebergs, and intense cold. To get amongst the icebergs in -a fog, and with half a gale of wind blowing, is a very serious business -indeed; and in spite of the utmost precaution many good ships have -had hairbreadth escapes in this part of the voyage. During January, -February, and March, indeed, the westerly winds are not so regular—old -Horsburgh noted this fact as much as fifty years ago—and a Melbourne -ship now and then manages to get round Cape Leeuwin and to the Cape of -Good Hope. And ships sailing from Adelaide, being already so far to the -west, attempt this course at all times of year, so that you may get -a passage home by the Cape by sailing from hence. But it is a tedious -voyage at best. A hundred days is a quicker voyage this way than eighty -days by Cape Horn. - -Then there is the way home by New Zealand and Panama, which takes about -eight weeks from Melbourne. And, lastly, there are the Peninsular and -Oriental Company’s mail-steamers, which are in correspondence with the -Calcutta and China mail-steamers, which they meet at Galle; and this -is the quickest, the most interesting, and, from October to April, the -pleasantest way of going. - -Punctually to the hour the anchor of the trim little _Bombay_ is got -up. A Peninsular and Oriental steamer scorns the contact, it seems, -of almost any wharf but that of her own native Southampton, and waits -with proper dignity in mid-harbour to take in her passengers not only -at Melbourne, but even at Sydney, the starting-place of her voyage. So -there is no shore-tackle to be loosed. In an instant the powerful screw -is revolving, making the whole ship quiver and vibrate, the water in -the glasses spirt up and spill, and the passengers at the saloon-table -shake and nod over their luncheon as though they had the palsy. For the -last time we pass through Port Phillip Heads, and steer straight across -the Australian Bight. - -One more glimpse of the new Southern world we have before striking -straight across the Indian Ocean to the old Oriental one. At sunset -about five days after leaving Melbourne the land is in sight again, -and soon after the distant glimmer of the lighthouse which stands on -a little rocky island at the mouth of King George’s Sound. In a few -hours we enter the Sound, a large harbour or bay, land-locked except -to the south and south-east, embraced by a confusion of long irregular -promontories and islands between which the eye cannot distinguish, and -bare of tree or house to disturb their undulating outline. So white -they look in the moonlight, that they might be bare chalk hills, and -even by daylight it is difficult to make out that it is only pure white -sand which covers them. A few lights on shore ahead of us are the only -sign of life. Even the pilot seems to be asleep, for we have to burn -blue-lights and rockets to summon him as we steam on at half-speed. -At last he comes on board, looking very sleepy; we enter the inner -harbour, the anchor drops, and the twelve hours’ work of coaling is at -once begun, and goes on continuously throughout the night. - -Daylight reveals that in all the great natural harbour there is only -one sea-going vessel, the Adelaide packet, which has come to meet us. -There are still three or four hours left, and we land in one of the -boats on the pretty sandy shore, and make our way through low scrub -towards the settlement. The flowers are lovely, especially a large -brilliant red bottle-brush, and a handsome white flower growing on a -bush with slimy sticky leaves, which is the fatal poison-plant, or one -of them, which has been so injurious to Western Australia, by poisoning -the sheep and making the land valueless for grazing. As for Albany, -the settlement, it is a pleasant, cosy little village of wooden houses, -with three or four superior habitations for the Government officials -and the Peninsular and Oriental agent; and considering that it is on -a splendid harbour, and situated in the extreme corner of a great -continent, it is about as quiet, dull, lifeless, and unprogressive a -place as can well be conceived. For what is there to be done there? -The climate is said to be particularly charming, but the soil is so -poor and sandy that even the few hundred inhabitants can scarcely grow -food for their own wants. There is an establishment of convicts here, -and they are to be seen doing such work as can be found for them; and -in one respect it is a good place for them, for there is little chance -of their escaping. From the top of a hill we could see to a great -distance inland, but there is scarcely a sign of habitation or even -a large tree to be seen. The nearest station is fifty miles off, and -Perth, the only considerable town, two hundred and fifty. The road to -it is plainly visible for miles and miles, stretching straight across -the plain. The native black-fellows frequent the place, and are to be -seen more in their original condition here than in most other parts of -Australia—repulsive-looking, dark-brown figures, their hair and bodies -smeared with grease, boomerangs and spears in their hands, and opossum -skins sewn together hung on them as on a clothes-horse, and making a -poor apology for clothing. - -It is hard to understand how the settlement contrived to exist at -all before the days when the Peninsular and Oriental steamers made it -a coaling-station, and a place for meeting the Adelaide steamer. But -it is an old settlement, as I was reminded in a very unexpected and -startling way by an object that I should as soon have expected to see -in Belgrave Square as there—a common parish _Stocks_, in perfect repair! - -But at noon the _Bombay’s_ gun booms over the dead silence of the sunny -landscape, as a signal to go on board again, and we take our last -look at Australia. In the _Bombay_ one seems to be already almost in -India. The ship’s company are a medley of races from Europe, Asia, and -Africa. The officers of course, and the quartermasters, and a few more, -are English. But the great majority are black or bronze-coloured. The -captain has a boat’s crew of nine fine sailor-like Malays, who cannot -speak a word of English. Amongst the stewards in the saloon are two -or three pure African negroes, and very good servants they are. The -firemen and stokers are long, lean, gaunt, black Abyssinians. The rest -of the crew is perhaps made up of Lascars or other natives of India, -small feeble-looking men, whom one sees eating their meagre fare of -rice and curry, half a dozen of them squatting on the deck round a -bowl of it, into which they dip their long bony fingers. They have -to make up by their numbers for their want of muscle. To see a dozen -of them pulling at a rope you would think each of them was afraid of -breaking it. It is a sight to see all the crew mustered on Sunday -morning for inspection on the after-deck, ranged in order according -to their different departments, and each dressed in his cleanest and -best. Side by side with the English sailor’s dress are turbans, and -tunics of green, red, or yellow silk, and bracelets, and all the -brilliant colours of Oriental costume. Yet all this heterogeneous crew -is in perfect discipline. The orderliness, cleanliness, and smartness -of the decks, and of everything on board, is a great contrast to the -ordinary condition of a merchant ship, and comes very near to that of a -man-of-war. - -It is about a fortnight’s run from King George’s Sound to Galle. Every -day the heat sensibly increases. It is hotter, it seems, in the Indian -Ocean than on the Atlantic. One day the thermometer on deck, with a -double awning above, stands at 91°, and I cannot discover that there -is any artificial heat to affect it. In the cabin it is about 87°, but -with the ports open, and a wind-sail to direct a current of air in upon -the berths, sleep is not difficult. The Lascars in their scanty linen -clothing, who have been huddling miserably round the funnel for warmth, -now squat on the deck and play at cards, flinging them down with great -animation when their turn comes to play; but they still keep near -the funnel as a pleasant friend and neighbour. Down the stoke-hole, -where the Abyssinian firemen feed the fire, the thermometer is said to -stand at 156°—I did not go down to try—and one of the long gaunt black -figures, with scarcely a rag of clothing on and shining with moisture -emerges to the upper regions from time to time, and a bucket of water -is thrown over him to revive him. The mysterious little pulley-wheels -near the saloon ceiling are explained now; for punkahs are put up, -and little bronze-faced boys in white shirts and trousers squat in -pretty attitudes, exactly like the figures which support French lamps, -and pull away patiently at the punkah-strings to make the heat more -tolerable for those who are sitting at table. The flying-fish know -their latitude to a degree, and make their appearance as soon as the -tropic is entered. But they are not so numerous as in the Atlantic, -or else the steamer scares them away. One flying higher than usual -and losing its presence of mind strikes one of the ship’s officers on -the head, nearly knocking him off the bridge where he was walking, -and breaking its own head with the force of the shock. Day by day the -sunsets grow more gorgeous, and the crimson and purple lights on the -calm oily water more dreamily beautiful. The concavity of the crescent -moon turns more and more upwards till it is cup-like and horizontal. -The Great Bear reappears, but in humble fashion close to the horizon, -and draggling his poor dear tail in the water as if half ashamed, -and languishing in these hot southern latitudes. At last a penknife -stuck in the bulwarks at noon casts no shadow; for we are leaving the -Southern Hemisphere. - -One morning the screw has stopped, and the sun rises, and the morning -mist lifts, to show us an open bay into which the surf dashes -unrestrained, and which is fringed on one side with a thick wood of -cocoa-nut palms and tropical undergrowth, with here and there a -bungalow or a little hut, while on the other side of the bay a road -runs along the base of stone-faced ramparts covered with the freshest, -greenest turf, and leads up to a seventeenth-century gateway, by which -a crowd of people are passing in and out. Within the walls are the -red and purple tiled roofs, and strong tropical lights and shadows -of Galle. It is an exquisite scene to wake up to from the formless -solitude of mid-ocean. Paddling round about the vessel are swarms of -small craft, barge-like boats, and long picturesque canoes scarcely -more than a foot wide, made of a hollowed tree, and balanced on the -tossing swell by a small beam fastened parallel to them by outriggers -six or eight feet long and resting on the water. They are manned -by natives vociferously vending newspapers, fruit, or trinkets, or -bargaining to take passengers ashore. - -Ashore all go as soon as possible, and through the gateway, and up -a street shaded by a green avenue, till the great Oriental Hotel is -reached, the large broad verandah of which is crowded with people in -all the strange costumes and head-gear of Anglo-Indians, talking, -flirting, smoking, eating, drinking, bargaining, and abusing the (at -this time of year) more than Indian heat. They are passengers going to, -or returning from, India and China. For Galle is the Rugby Junction of -Anglo-Asiatic traffic, where the China and Australia steamers disgorge -their passengers into the larger vessel from Calcutta and Madras—many -rills flowing into one stream—and there are often a couple of days -to be spent here waiting—days inexpressibly full of interest and -enjoyment to those to whom the scenes of India and of the tropics are -new and unfamiliar. - -The streets are full of natives, clothed or half-clothed in white or -coloured cotton dress. The driver of your hired carriage who sits close -in front of you is perhaps bare to the waist; but the dark-brown colour -of his skin prevents you from being keenly alive to the fact, and you -are not much impressed with any deficiency in his apparel. Men as well -as women wear their black hair long and tied in a knot, or confined by -tortoiseshell combs. Indeed the general appearance of men and women is -so much alike that at first sight one is almost puzzled to distinguish -them. A lady lately arrived at Galle, talking to a friend who had been -much in her house and knew all about her establishment, happened to -mention her ayah. The friend expressed surprise, as he did not know -she had an ayah; and after explanation, and summoning the servant in -question, she was made aware that her servant was a man, and had never -pretended to be anything else, though he had been acting as nurse, and -washing and dressing the baby for a week or two. - -Crowding round the verandah of the hotel is a host of importunate -vendors of tortoiseshell, baskets, ivory boxes, and jewellery. As -regards jewellery there is ample scope for their roguery, which is -without limit. A fellow will ask you fourteen pounds for what he calls -a real sapphire ring, and gladly let you have it, after a little -bargaining, for two shillings. Europeans take unblushing rascality of -this sort as a matter of course, and treat it, not with indignation, -but with contempt. Even in a few hours one can understand a little why -the natives are so often treated by Europeans much in the way that a -good-natured man treats a useful dog. - -The hotel is a great building, with the bedrooms for greater coolness -separated by partitions reaching only part of the way to the ceiling, -so that a word or a snore is sometimes audible in every room from one -end to the other of the long corridor; and many are the reproaches, -expletives, bolsters, boots, and other missiles, which are flung over -the partition at anyone who offends in this latter particular. In some -of the private houses the doors are for the same reason made so as -to come within a foot of the ground, and consequently when anyone is -coming into the room there is ample time and opportunity for inspecting -his or her feet, &c. before any other part of the person is visible. - -The heat does not admit of much going about in the middle of the day; -but towards evening you can drive beyond town and suburbs, and see -the palms on each side bending over the road, and the rich swampy -soil teeming with rank vegetation, and feast your senses on the -often-described wonders of a tropical climate. Beautiful as it is, it -is not to be compared for beauty (one is told) with the interior. And -there is no time or opportunity for seeing that, for punctual to its -day the great black hull of the steamer from Calcutta and Madras, which -is to pick up all the passengers for Suez, rounds the point and enters -the bay, and by daybreak next morning she is off again. - -A huge monster she is of two thousand six hundred tons or thereabouts, -with a charming long flush deck from bows to stern of immense length. -She is cram-full; for it is the end of March, and all Indians who can -get away—officers, civilians, invalids, and young children—are on -their way home before the hot season sets in. Some cabins have been -reserved for passengers waiting at Galle, and we from Australia are a -not very welcome addition to the already large number, and are probably -set down as at best successful diggers, and as most likely holders of -tickets-of-leave. But with or without tickets-of-leave we soon shake -down, and get on pretty well with each other, for there is no room for -quarrelling. There are some five hundred human beings on board, of whom -more than half are passengers, and of these above fifty are children. -They are pale, sickly, quiet little beings, these children, or one does -not know how the ship would hold them, for they are under little or no -control. Often half a dozen or more have been confided to the care of -one invalid lady, who has about enough to do to take care of herself. -As for the ayahs, of whom there are plenty, they have not a shadow -of authority over their charges, and submit as a matter of course to -thumps and abuse in answer to their feeble threats and entreaties. - -It is worth while to stroll over the ship about midnight, when everyone -has settled down for the night. The season is not yet advanced and -hot enough to oblige everyone to sleep on deck, but on the after-deck -under the awning are perhaps twenty men-passengers asleep—some on -mattresses brought up from their cabins, others on the benches or on -cane lounging-chairs. Forward, near the funnel and galley and on the -forecastle, the bright moonlight shines upon bodies lying as thick and -as motionless as on a battle-field after a battle—some wrapped head and -all in their garments of white linen or coarse cloth, some in their -natural bare black to the waist, some huddled together, head to feet, -in groups, and some alone, and all without the slightest regard to -whether they are in the gangway or not. In the saloon, on the tables, -or on the narrow benches, with one leg on the table to keep them from -rolling off, lie white-shirted and white-trousered stewards; and on the -floor at their mistresses’ cabin-doors are prostrate ayahs, so exactly -in the way that in the half-light one almost has to feel for them to -avoid treading on them in passing. On the lockers in the stern are a -few children and an ayah or two; but the head-quarters of the children -are down below on the lower-deck, where they are laid out by dozens on -the table, on cushions, shawls, and anything that comes to hand, while -over them the punkah, its strings connected with the engines, fans the -air steadily the whole night through. And all seem to sleep peacefully -and even comfortably each after his fashion, for the north-east monsoon -is just dying away, there is not a wave to stir the ship, and every -port and scuttle to within two or three feet of the-water-line is open -to admit the air. - -We carry on the monsoon till Cape Guardafui is in sight; then comes a -strong south-east breeze heavy with moisture blowing up the gulf, and -on the morning but one after, the rising sun lights up brilliantly the -red and yellow mountains which stretch across the little peninsula of -Aden, rising up behind it in high peaks and ridges abrupt and sharp -and serrated like the Dolomite mountains of the Tyrol. And in an hour -or two the _Tarus_ drops her anchor within a quarter of a mile of the -shore, among steamers and ships of war and transports on their way to -Annesley Bay to feed the Abyssinian Expedition, now near its goal at -Magdala. - -Like King George’s Sound, Aden is an isolated corner of a continent, -cut off by deserts from land-communication with the outer world of -civilization, and important only as a refuge or coaling-station for -shipping. Wild tribes of Bedouins are the only inhabitants of the -deserts which bound the peninsula, and for some years after our -occupation of it they made repeated attacks upon us; and strong -fortifications, garrisoned chiefly by Bombay sepoy regiments, now guard -the small space where it is possible to penetrate the strong natural -defence of the mountains. - -And the impression of strange wild primeval desolation is increased -as we land. Moist as is the air in the gulf, the atmosphere of Aden -itself is as dry as can be conceived, and tempts one, protected by a -green veil and an umbrella, to ride or walk, or even run, in spite -of the fierce sun which blazes out of the unclouded sky. Scarcely a -morsel of vegetation, not a blade of grass is to be seen, only at rare -intervals in the sand a leafless shrub. For at Aden not a drop of rain -falls often for years in succession, though the mountain-peak not four -miles from the harbour is capped with cloud. Water is supplied chiefly -by distillation from the sea, and also from huge tanks. We drive to -see them, passing strings of camels, and tall, dirty, melancholy, -scowling Arabs, and a wretched Arab village of huts of mud and straw -like a warren of ill-instructed rabbits, and turn up a hill through -fortifications and covered ways hewn in the rock, where white-coated -sepoy sentinels stand on guard, and down on the other side to the -cantonments and to the Arab town of Aden itself, for where we landed is -not Aden proper but the Bunder or port. They are a strange memorial of -the past, those tanks. They are hewn out of the solid rock one above -another in a steep gulley of the cloud-capt mountain, from whence at -long intervals torrents of water pour down and fill them. Tradition -assigns them an origin anterior to the time of Abraham, but there is no -fragment of sculpture to help to give them a date; they are only huge -irregular basins in the rock, capable of holding from a quarter to two -or three millions of gallons each, and for centuries were almost choked -with rubbish, till within the last few years our Government has cleared -them out and made them available again. - -Early the same afternoon we are steaming away again for Suez, and at -midnight pass through the Straits of Babel-mandeb. The little island -of Perim divides the straits into two. We pass through the eastern and -narrower passage, which is not much more than a mile wide, and by the -bright moonlight both the island and the Arabian coast are clearly -visible. A few years ago, when the importance of the position of the -island first became apparent, and while consuls and envoys were busy -discussing to whom it belonged—for it was then uninhabited—the English -quietly took possession of it, and are now admitted to have thereby -acquired a good title to it. An officer or two and about half a company -of troops from Aden are located on it as garrison, and considering that -it is perfectly bare, without an inhabitant or a tree, or a blade of -grass, or a hill, or water, or, I believe, any animal except rats, and -in a climate like a furnace, it must be about as unpleasant a prison to -be confined in as well could be found anywhere. - -And now we are in the much-dreaded and famous Red Sea. Dreaded it -justly is on account of the terrible heat there during the summer -months. A captain now on another station told me that when on this -line he sometimes lost passengers (most of them invalids, probably) at -the rate of one or two every day. Why the heat is so intolerable is -not very clear, as the actual temperature by the thermometer is never -remarkably high—nothing like so high as in many other places where -heat is not much complained of. Fortunately, we are too early in the -season to suffer from it, and it is scarcely so hot as before reaching -Aden. The strong north-westerly breeze too, which almost always -blows down the sea, meets us and refreshes us. How the navigation -was ever performed before the days of steam is a marvel. One of the -steamers once fell in with a sailing-ship bound from Aden to Suez, and -_seventy-five days out_ from the former place, all the crew ill or dead -with heat, and only the master and one boy available for duty. - -The narrowness of the sea and the dangerous coral reefs which lie on -either side, and on which so many fine steamers have been stranded, -make all vessels keep to one uniform course straight up the centre -of it, out of sight of land on either side. Every day some huge -steamer—more often there are two or three—passes with its living -freight. For the first time we fully realise what a mighty highway -of the world it is. Year by year the long sea-passage by the Cape -to India, is less and less followed. Even troops now often take the -overland route, and if ever the Suez canal is opened to vessels of -large tonnage, the change will be greater still. After centuries of -disuse, the old, old road from Europe to India is open again with a -hundred times the traffic and importance that it ever had before. - -Once only does our vessel pause. A suffering invalid, hoping in vain -to reach home alive, has died during the night. In the morning the -burial-service is read over the coffin wrapped in a Union-jack, and -from a large port on the saloon-deck forward it is lowered gently into -the sea; and after scarce five minutes’ interval, the engines throb -again, and the screw revolves, and the resting-place, unknown and -unmarked, is left behind. - -On the sixth day from Aden we are in the gulf of Suez. To the east is -a flat coast, and beyond is the range of Sinai, scarcely visible. On -the west are sandstone cliffs of brilliant red and yellow contrasting -exquisitely with the bright blue sky, and lighting up at sunset with -the warmest and most gorgeous colours. But we are in Egypt now, and -English painters as well as writers have already made the rest of our -journey familiar ground, and in their presence it is becoming to be -silent. Not that the sights and interests and pleasures of the homeward -journey are by any means exhausted yet, or that what is still to be -seen loses by comparison with what we have passed. Those who are not -pressed for time may stay a week at Cairo, and taking the Southampton -instead of the Marseilles route, may also stay at Malta, and during the -few hours spent at Gibraltar, walk over the rock and town; and from the -vessel’s deck as she proceeds see the pretty Spanish and Portuguese -coasts for much of the way from thence to Cape St. Vincent. - -Melbourne, King George’s Sound, Galle, Aden, Suez, the Pyramids, -Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, Southampton Water. What a list for nine -weeks’ luxurious travelling! A fresh country about once a week, a fresh -continent, almost, once a fortnight! - -Truly a P. & O. steamer is a wonderful institution, worthy to take -a high place among the unquestionable successes of the last thirty -years. Once, in Tasmania, in a remote little bay of D’Entrecasteaux’ -channel, I came across a man getting his living laboriously by hewing -timber in the bush. He told me he had worked in the gang which turned -the first sod (or nearly the first) of the new docks in which the first -P. & O. ships were cradled. One man sows and toils that another may -reap. Few reap so richly, so abundantly, in these days, as those whose -time and means enable them to travel on freshly made tracks to see the -glory of a new world. - - - - - XV. - - CHANGE OF AIR. - - -As travelling becomes easier all over the world, an increasing number -of people who suffer from English winters are tempted to migrate -annually in pursuit of sunshine and a more genial climate. Formerly -fewer pleasant places were accessible, and there was comparatively -little choice; and as to keep a consumptive person warm through the -winter was supposed to be the one thing needful, little attention -was paid to other peculiarities of climate. It is only of late years -that doctors have become fully alive to the very different effects -produced on invalids by much the same temperature in different places. -Experience has shown that warmth is by no means the only point to be -considered. People who coughed all day and all night at Nice have -altogether ceased to cough when they went to Pau, where it was quite -as cold. On the other hand, it was found that some people got ill at -Pau who were ill nowhere else. Madeira, where it is _never_ cold, is -going out of repute as a place for consumptive patients; and to the -utter astonishment of everybody, it was found that consumptive people -who spent a winter in Canada not only did not die immediately but got -better. Climates came to be divided into moist-relaxing, as Madeira, -Pisa, and Torquay; dry-relaxing (_sedative_, I believe, is the correct -word), as Pau; exciting, as Cannes and Nice; and so on. Doctors became -more discriminating in different cases, as far as their geographical -knowledge enabled them. But they have something better to do than to -go about sniffing the air and observing thermometers and anemometers -and hygrometers in half a dozen South-European or Devonshire -watering-places. They are obliged for the most part to judge of them -from the reports of the local doctors at each place, each of whom is -likely to be a believer in his own particular place, and directly -interested in making it popular. - -And if doctors are compelled to speak with diffidence in distinguishing -between European climates, what must their perplexity be when they -recommend to their patients, as they often do now, and as I hope -they will do more and more, a voyage to Australia? If Cannes has -been confounded with Caen, is it surprising if Tasmania should be -dimly believed to be one of the West India Islands? What they do -know, because they can see that for themselves, is that in cases of -threatening consumption, or weakness following an illness, a marvellous -change for the better, and often complete cure, is the effect of a -voyage round the world. How much of that is due to the sea-air and -sea-life, and how much to the land-air and land-life of the Antipodes, -they have seldom any means of judging; and still less can they know of -the differences in climate between different places in Australasia. An -invalid fellow-passenger of ours was furnished with two medical books -on the climate of Melbourne, one all praises and encouragement, the -other all depreciation and warning. He used to read them alternately in -such proportions as to keep his mind in a just balance between hope and -fear. Poor fellow! the laudatory book had to come out by itself for a -long time, though I think the other appeared now and then when we had -been some time in the tropics. - -As for the voyage, three months in circumstances inducing the most -complete inanition of body and mind of course may, or may not, be -desirable. For those who are very weak, either from disease or from -overwork of body or brain, I suppose nothing could be more beneficial. -Such do not feel the want of bodily exercise and mental occupation -which to a more vigorous man is so depressing. It is pleasant to see -them, their thin, pinched features gradually relaxing, welcome each -day which takes them farther south, discard wrap after wrap, and -note down each degree of northern latitude sailed through, till the -tropics are reached; where in a temperature seldom varying by day or -night beyond a range of from 81° to 85° they breathe the open air -throughout the twenty-four hours, with no more exertion than mounting -the companion-steps from the berth by the open port in their cabin, -to the easy lounging chair under the awning on deck. True, it is a -damp heat, and at night it is sometimes soaking wet. Toothache and -neuralgia attack you now, if ever they do, and you probably feel limp -and lazy and head-achy, and disgusted with everything in the ship -except your bath; but the damp does not give cold at sea in the same -way as it would on shore, unless anyone is so foolish as to sleep on -deck. Nothing can be better for the invalids for the first six or seven -weeks of the voyage, and till the tropics are left to the north. But -not long after that comes the inevitable and often sudden change. As -you get to about 35° or 40° south, the strong westerly winds begin to -blow. The ship’s course generally touches 45° south, and runs nearly -in that latitude for two or three weeks. Doctors and other people at -home do not know how much colder 45° south is than 45° north. If, as -is pretty sure to happen sooner or later, the wind blows a little -from the southward, it may bring sleet and snow with it, and the air -may be at 40° or lower for days together, with half a gale of wind -blowing all the time to prevent any mistake about how cold it is. It -needs no description to give an idea of how dangerous or even fatal -this may be to a sick man fresh from his boiling in the tropics, with -no fire (probably) in the ship at which he may warm himself, yet for -ventilation’s sake forced to open window or door from time to time, and -to be hustled everywhere, except in bed, by a tempest of draughts. Nor -is it possible to escape the cold by timing your departure from England -so as to do this part of the voyage in summer. It is more or less cold -here all the year round. All things considered, August, September, or -October are perhaps the best months to begin the voyage. The English -summer is over then, and the coming winter may be cheated. - -But much more benefit, I believe, is to be got by invalids from the -air of Australia than from the life on board ship. The authorities are -now pretty well agreed that, at any rate for consumptive patients, -a dry air is the first essential. The statistics, if they are worth -anything, go to prove that in England consumption is prevalent or rare -in proportion as the soil and situation are light, dry, and high, or, -on the other hand, heavy, damp, and low, and that temperature is of -secondary importance. Now the Australian air is peculiarly dry—drier -than anyone who has never been out of England can well imagine. A -new comer from Europe cannot fail to be struck by its exciting, -invigorating effect. Considering how great the heat sometimes is, it -is astonishing how little it is felt, and how little enervating it is. -In the hottest weather the perspiration is absorbed by the air almost -immediately, so that the skin is always almost dry. Those who ride -about in the heat all day feel it less than those who stay at home. The -sun has power even in winter: it is seldom clouded except when rain is -actually falling; on the hottest days there is generally a breeze, and -indeed the greatest heat comes with the strong hot winds. I never felt -any air like it except perhaps that of the Egyptian Desert. - -Still it cannot be denied that there are few, if any, places on the -mainland where the climate is pleasant all the year round. The way to -enjoy the country luxuriously is to migrate with the seasons. Some -people indeed like great heat and are all the better for it, and these -may do very well in the interior of Victoria or New South Wales all the -year round. But except at a few places in Gipp’s Land, and elsewhere at -a great elevation above the sea, the summer is too hot to be pleasant. -The burnt-up grass and vegetation are dismal to look at. The dust is -abominable, and the flies sometimes almost amount to a plague. There -is no place which is not more or less liable to hot winds, which blow -violently from the interior for a day, or two days, at a time, laden -with dust, and producing a temperature in the shade often over 100°. -These hot winds are not so bad as might be supposed from the degree of -heat, but still they are not pleasant; and they cease very suddenly, -so that the fall of temperature, especially near the coast, is very -great in a short time. I have heard of a fall of 44°, from 106° to 62°, -in two hours at Sydney. Near the sea-coast, especially the eastern -coast, the air is often cooled by the sea-breezes. At Sydney, for -instance, it is not nearly so hot as in the interior. But, strange to -say, the cool sea-breeze, instead of being invigorating, is in the long -run enervating; and though a stranger at first rejoices in it, it is -dreaded by the inhabitants in general, and is the principal cause of -the situation of Sydney being less healthy and less bracing than that -of most other places in the comparatively temperate parts of Australia. -Sydney is, on the whole, to be avoided by those who are fastidious as -to climate, except in winter—that is, in June, July, and August, when -it is delightful. - -Nor is Melbourne a very pleasant or healthy place in which to spend -either winter or summer. It is more agreeable in either spring or -autumn. The hot winds of summer and the cold winds of winter are alike -disagreeable there. And if, by any chance, there is a day without -wind, fog and smoke will sometimes hang over Flinders Street and the -low plain stretching towards the bay, making _longo intervallo_ an -imitation of a London fog. The hospital was crowded with consumptive -patients while I was there; but it would not be fair to lay too much -of this to the charge of climate. Ill built houses account for much. -The comparatively small number of days on which rain falls and the -rapidity with which the ground dries make people careless about making -their houses waterproof, or draining them properly. Kitchens and -servants’ rooms are sometimes separated by an open roofless space from -the rest of the house, and on rainy days constant wet feet and damp -clothes are the consequence. Much illness, too, must be attributed to -the bad drainage of Melbourne. A new-comer is at first delighted with -the clear running water which is always flowing down the gutters of -the principal streets, like Hobson’s Conduit at Cambridge. But if he -passes by at night his nose informs him that the once limpid stream is -neither more nor less than the common sewer of the houses on each side. -There are no underground sewers. The rush of water in the hilly streets -after heavy rain is so great and sudden that it has been hitherto -found impracticable to construct any sewer which would stand against -it without bursting. I believe projects are on foot for an effective -system of drainage; the Victorians are never sparing of money for -public works. But as yet Melbourne is as ill-drained as almost any city -I ever saw inhabited by Englishmen, and if cholera or any other bad -epidemic ever reached Australia the consequences might be fearful. Even -the abundant supply of water, which is such an inestimable advantage in -all other respects, makes the evil worse. For before it was obtained, -the dry air and especially the hot winds acted as effectual deodorizers -by drying up all that was disagreeable, and preventing any effluvium -from it. Now there is too much dilution for this to happen, and in -parts of the town are to be seen green pools of liquid, poisoning the -surrounding air. - -Of the climates of Adelaide and of Queensland I cannot speak by -experience. From all accounts Adelaide is charming in winter, but in -summer even hotter and more burnt up than either Sydney or Melbourne. -Brisbane is very hot indeed, almost tropical. But the Darling Downs, -high rolling sheep country a couple of hundred miles inland from -Brisbane, are said to be in winter charming beyond description; and -judging by the experience of a delightful fortnight spent in winter -near Scone, two or three hundred miles to the south of them, I can -well believe that the winter there affords a type of all that is most -charming in Australian air. You have a hot unclouded sun warming you -through and through, and raising even the shade temperature to perhaps -70° or 80°; the air never stagnant with the mournful stillness of an -English autumn day, but stimulating to exercise, and fresh and bracing -beyond what can be conceived in England; boundless open grass country -over which you may ride all day on horses that never tire; at night -stillness, and perhaps a slight frost, which makes the Squatter’s -blazing wood-fire grateful; and after a day of perfect bodily -enjoyment, you totter off with winking eyes to sleep not the restless -sleep of the sickly and feeble, but the sound sleep of the tired and -strong. - -Of the general attractions of Tasmania I have already spoken, and -incidentally of those of its climate. It may be described as midway -between the English and the (mainland) Australian, and consequently -far pleasanter than either. There are the hot sun, dry air, almost -constant breeze, cool nights, sudden changes, and comparative rareness -of frost and snow, of Australia; but hot winds are almost unknown -there, the sky is more often clouded, and the spring and autumn months -are sometimes tempestuous and comparatively cold. The extent of deeply -indented sea-coast, and the differences of level in different parts of -the country, produce a considerable variety of climate within a small -compass. At Hobart Town invalids sometimes suffer from the sea-breeze, -which after a hot morning in summer generally blows somewhat keenly -in the afternoon, coming up with remarkable regularity at about one -o’clock. But a few miles inland its keenness is no longer felt. In -summer Tasmania is a delightful refuge from the heat of the continent. -The winter there, though colder than that of Victoria, is far warmer, -drier, and, above all, lighter and sunnier, than that of any place in -England. - -I do not wish to disparage European refuges from English winters. -But my belief, founded on my own experience, is that in most cases -infinitely more benefit is to be obtained by invalids from the -Australian than from any European climate. And climate is not the only -thing to be considered. What is more depressing, more humiliating -to one who seeks to be free, as far as poor humanity may, from the -trammels of enfeebled flesh, than the daily routine of a _poitrinaire_ -at a winter watering-place;—the club room, the tittle-tattle of -politics in which he is never likely to take an active part, the -still more insipid gossip about other peoples’ affairs, the whist by -daylight, the weekly weighing to see if flesh is being made or lost? -Compare the net result, mental and physical, of a continuance of this -sort of life with the rich harvest of memories gathered in from a -sight, however limited, of the new southern world. Six months’ absence -from a profession and from ordinary occupations is in many cases fatal -to an immediate resumption of them, and little would really be lost by -extending it to a year and a half, which would give ample time for a -visit to Australia. The time might be distributed thus: Leaving England -by sailing-ship in August or September, and arriving in Melbourne in -November or December, a traveller might spend the summer in Tasmania, -the autumn in Victoria, and the winter and spring in Queensland and -New South Wales, returning to Melbourne some time in the second -summer, and sailing thence so as to get home again before the English -summer begins. In this way both cold weather and also extreme heat -will have been avoided, and two English winters missed. If the whole -of the second summer can be spared for going to New Zealand so much -the better, or if the mail-steamer’s route by way of Galle be taken, -a short stay in India during the cool season may be made. Whichever -way home is chosen, a much pleasanter voyage may be anticipated if -it is begun during the summer months—that is, between the beginning -of November and the end of March; for by Cape Horn the cold, by the -Red Sea the heat, and round Cape Leuwin and the Cape of Good Hope the -adverse winds, become worse as the year advances. - -For the reasons already given country life is almost as preferable -in regard to health in Australia as it is in England. Those who are -not strong enough to travel about much will generally do best to take -up their quarters in the country wherever they may have friends or -acquaintance. A very slight introduction will procure a very warm -welcome everywhere in Australia to any traveller from home. Home has -only one meaning there, and long may it keep that meaning. There is -no hospitality more readily and kindly proffered and more delightful -to accept than that of the Bush. Its simplicity is a pleasant change -after the sometimes excessive luxury of English country life. Bed, -board, and a horse are at your service; and for sitting-room there is -the ample verandah with its wooden or cane lounging-chairs, where air, -and light, and sun, will put new strength and vitality into you, if -anything will. - -Light and sunshine—that is what a weakly man gets in Australia far -better than anywhere that I know of in Europe. Perhaps he does not -think much about it at the time; but after he is home again, and is -groping or shivering through his first English winter, he begins to -realize the blessings he has been enjoying. - - - - - XVI. - - A PLEA FOR AUSTRALIAN LOYALTY. - - - [The _Spectator_ of May 23, 1868, contained a letter signed ‘An - Australian Cynic,’ and also an article founded on it, commenting on - the extraordinary outburst of excitement and indignation at Sydney - occasioned by the attempted assassination of the Duke of Edinburgh, - as manifested in the passing of the Treason-Felony Act and in other - ways. These manifestations, and the attitude of the Australians - generally on the occasion were attributed to a ‘starved appetite for - rank,’ and censured accordingly. - - The following Letter was written to endeavour to show that this - view of the case was a mistaken and impossible one. The succeeding - Letter was an answer to the reply of the _Spectator_ that the view - of loyalty implied in my first Letter was itself impregnated with - ‘veiled cynicism.’] - - -Your last number contains a letter from ‘An Australian Cynic’ -commenting upon the exhibition of feeling shown in Australia after -the attempt to assassinate the Duke of Edinburgh. It also contains an -article on the same subject, the writer of which would hardly, I should -think, object to being called an English cynic. It seldom happens that -English newspapers find space to notice Australia, or that English -people care to make themselves acquainted with Australian affairs; -and it is unfortunate that when notice is taken of them, the occasion -should call for severe not to say contemptuous, censure. Still, let -censure fall where censure is due, even though it come under the -questionable guise of cynicism. Better too much blame than too little. - -But I must confess that to me the spirit which has been shown on this -occasion, so far from seeming contemptible, has appeared, on the -whole, in the highest degree creditable. I have little hope of being -able to bring over you or any of your readers to my way of thinking. -Nevertheless, as Australia cannot answer for itself in less than three -months, I will endeavour to put the case in the light in which it -strikes me. - -We Englishmen at home are of all men most devoid of imagination. We -spend our lives on soil teeming with tradition, where the very shape -or colour of every brick and stone tells its story of the past, and -may be a silent but ever-present reminder of some especially honoured -friend or hero, some favourite struggle lost or won. But we do not -know how much these associations are bound up with us; we cannot tell, -till we try, how ill we can dispense with them. I do not believe we -have the least idea of the fidelity with which Australians preserve -old memories; how tenaciously they cling to their right of inheritance -in the history of the past. At first it may be that an emigrant is -altogether engrossed with the occupations of the moment. He must get -his bread; he must strike his roots into the new soil; he has no time -to sit down and think. But as he grows older, when he finally makes -up his mind to make the new country his home, old memories and old -attachments return with immense force. An old weather-beaten settler, -who after a life spent in hardships at last sees his children growing -up about him in prosperity and comfort, will look at them proudly, yet -half sadly, knowing that he has within him an inheritance which he can -transmit to them only in part, doubting whether after all a dinner of -herbs amongst the old scenes and the old traditions, sustaining (so -he fancies) the old beliefs, is not better than a stalled ox without -them. No one who has not experienced Australian hospitality can imagine -the jealous care which they take of a chance visitor from England, how -distressed and almost angry a settler will be if a visitor, although an -utter stranger, puts up at an inn instead of going to his house. And as -you talk to him, the chances are he will speak sadly, even bitterly, -of the carelessness, the indifference of people at home to their -Australian Colonies. They do not know even by name one colony from -another. Melbourne and Sydney are set down as places where a revolver -is as necessary as an umbrella in London; their populations as composed -mainly of convicts, runaways from Europe, dishonest demagogues, or -merchants who care to remain only till they have made their fortunes. -But what he will complain of most bitterly is that a school has grown -up in England which says, ‘Let the Colonies go. All we want of them is -wool and gold. All they want of us is a market. What we both want is -wealth. We can get this as well separate as together, perhaps better. -Traditions, loyalty to the throne, willingness to share danger as well -as security, war as well as peace, with the old country—all this is -sentimental rubbish. We have almost got rid of this sort of thing at -home, they must have quite got rid of it at the Antipodes.’ - -This, I believe, is false slander. As such, I believe it has been -felt, and felt keenly, by the vast majority of Australians. Can you, -then, wonder that when the news came that the Queen was sending out -one of the Princes, not selfishly, for his own benefit or for that of -the Crown, still less to confer any mere _material_ benefit on the -Australians, it came to them like a chance offered to a maligned man to -clear himself from a false charge—like light thrown on a dark place? -And so, when the Duke, after weeks and months of expectation, at last -arrived, it did not matter whether they did or did not find him all -that they thought an English Prince would be and ought to be; it did -not matter if he disliked politics, was bored by balls and ‘functions,’ -was indifferent to the beauty of the country. They refused to look a -gift horse in the mouth. He was the Queen’s son; that was enough. They -would do him all possible honour, and so prove that they were loyal -Englishmen, and cared for Queen and country as well as gold and wool. - -And when the news came that the Duke had been shot at and wounded on -their own shores, every one in a strange way seemed to take it to -heart, to be struck with shame and dismay, as though he himself were -in part guilty of the crime. The terror of having to bear, as a body, -the guilt of one wretched man excited them almost beyond belief. At -Hobart Town—distant as Tasmania is from the scene of the occurrence (I -quote from a hurriedly written letter just received)— - - ‘A meeting was convened within an hour of the arrival of the news by - telegraph; it was attended by every class and sect in the community. - The large town hall could not contain the assemblage; they therefore - gathered outside. The first proceeding, before any resolution, was to - call for the substitution of the Union flag for the municipal one. - Then, regardless of order, but with the order inspired by a common - sentiment, the vast crowd struck up the National Anthem. The effect - drew tears from many eyes—the _effect_ in part, the _earnestness_ - with which, under the circumstances, the Anthem was given forth by - those who joined in it, melted them into weakness. And a second - time in the course of the proceedings the same _irregularity_ was - indulged in, without its being possible for any one to say that - anything irregular was done—the ordinary and decorous modes of - expressing popular feeling were insufficient to give utterance to - that by which all were _possessed_. We burned with loyalty to the - Crown and country, intensified by shame and indignation that the - act of one bad man had made it necessary that we should wipe away - reproach or suspicion from us. I am not guilty of exaggeration when - I tell you that the news of what had been done by O’Farrell made - many persons _ill_ amongst us.... I dwell upon this subject, for to - this moment it, more than any other public one, agitates the minds - of the people—but having done so for this simple reason, let me ask - you, as a recent visitant, to do something in our vindication. We are - English—that is, national—in our sentiments, and not as the result - of calculation, but simply because we have not ceased to be and to - feel as Englishmen. Our Tasmanianism is an accident of no more - qualifying influence upon our feelings in what relates to the honour - and integrity of the mother country, than the circumstance might have - of being Kentish men.’ - -Strange words these, to come, as they do, not from a hot-headed boy, -but from a cool, experienced politician, a reader of solid books, a -grave paterfamilias, a hater of public meetings, who, when the Duke -was in Hobart Town, was ready to escape into the country, rather than -face the fuss and bustle and (to him) annoyance of festivities and -‘functions.’ And column after column of the Australian papers tell -the same story. I do not believe, since the news of Waterloo came to -England, that any body of Englishmen have been heated to so intense and -so unanimous a pitch of enthusiasm. Nor would it be possible to name -any such manifestation more unmixed with selfishness. For ostentatious -loyalty there are no rewards or honours in Australia, whatever there -may be for ostentatious democracy. I am no believer in the _Vox populi -vox Dei_ doctrine. But surely such an outburst as this is a phenomenon -at least worthy of patient examination. What is to be said of the -discernment or of the charity of a writer who can dismiss it with a -passing sneer as ‘the starved appetite for rank’? - -How ‘An Australian Cynic’ can say that there is ‘not a tittle of -evidence that a single colonist of New South Wales, native or -immigrant, has ever harboured a thought of treason’ I am at a loss to -conceive. I know little or nothing of what has been going on lately -in New South Wales. But it is not a year since a Roman Catholic -chaplain of one of the convict establishments had to be dismissed for -preaching Fenianism to the prisoners; to say nothing of the original -statement made by O’Farrell himself, which it is as difficult to -disprove as to prove. I doubt if the absurdities and extravagances -of the Treason-Felony Act are worth the pains ‘An Australian Cynic’ -has taken to criticize them. The Judges are not likely to allow the -Act to be enforced in an improper manner. Its intention is obvious -enough, and the blunders will probably prove to be harmless surplusage. -Nobody expects much legislative wisdom from a House constituted -as the Lower House of New South Wales is. Nor is the Upper House -likely to be much better, since it consists, not of members chosen -by a superior constituency, like the Victorian Upper House, but of -nominees ostensibly of the Governor, but in reality of successive -administrations. Nor ought we at home to be too ready to ridicule -their legislation, when we recollect that it is we who are responsible -for their Constitution. It was we who at a time of transition and -excitement in Australia allowed our Parliament and Ministers to -pitchfork out to New South Wales a rash, ill-considered scheme, from -which, in the opinion of many, the colony has been suffering ever since. - -‘An Australian Cynic’ complains of the newspapers and the public at -Sydney for not being more interested about a murder of five people -which has been committed in the interior. Does he mean to imply that -the police are supine in the matter, and need stimulus, or that the -existing law is inadequate to meet the case? If not, why ought such a -topic to be enlarged upon? Ought all bloodshed to provoke an amount of -discussion exactly in proportion to the number of lives lost? Murder, -unfortunately, is too old and too common a crime not to have been -provided against as far as it is possible to do so. Fenianism, when it -assumes the form of a conspiracy for the wholesale assassination of the -most prominent persons in the State, is a new crime and requires new -precautions. I suppose there must be a sense (since so many hold to the -dogma) in which all men may be said to be equal, though I must confess -I never could discover any—never yet having seen such a phenomenon as -even two men who could in any sense of the word be called equal. But -the common sense of all communities acknowledges that the lives of some -persons are (to take the lowest ground) infinitely more valuable to the -State than those of others, and when for this reason exposed to special -danger they require to be specially protected. - -Political assassination is a new crime in England in our days. But -if we go back to the days of Queen Elizabeth, we may be reminded of -conspiracies not unlike the worst manifestations of Fenianism, which -were met by our ancestors in a spirit not altogether unlike that which -has just been shown by their descendants in Australia. - - - - - XVII. - - LOYALTY AND CYNICISM. - - * * * * * - - -Personally I do plead guilty to holding the belief or doctrine to hold -which you call ‘veiled cynicism.’ But I beg you will not suppose that I -am asserting that the late demonstration of the Australians necessarily -implied that _they_ hold it, or that their loyalty as a people was not -wider and more comprehensive than any particular phase of it which may -specially present itself to me or to any one person. In the following -remarks I shall speak only in my own defence, and try to lift my -‘veil,’ so that it may be seen whether what is behind is, or is not, -cynicism. - -I accept the definition of cynicism which you give in your first -paragraph. But I will add another, and a strictly etymological one. A -cynic is a man who treats a deep-seated reasonable belief, or a fair -argument, in a dog-like manner, as if it were a mere dog’s howl; one -who vouchsafes only a kick or an imprecation to what he ought to listen -to with patience, and answer (if he disagrees) with argument. A sham -belief and an utterly worthless argument _ought_ to get only kicks -and imprecations; to treat them otherwise would be priggishness. It is -a critic’s business and difficulty to discover the right path between -these two pitfalls. With all respect to the _Spectator_, I venture to -express my opinion that not only in its recent article on the New South -Wales Treason-Felony Act, but again and again in speaking of matters -pertaining to the Crown and its relation to the people, it has fallen -into the pitfall of cynicism, and (unwittingly, of course) written -what has jarred painfully on the convictions of not a few amongst its -readers. - -To define these convictions adequately in general terms is almost -impossible. I do not know how to do so without entering upon -theological questions too deep for me, and which I would rather have -avoided. I do not know how better to express my own conviction than -by saying that I do in a very real sense believe in the ‘divine -right of kings;’ not of course in the sense of the High Church party -of the seventeenth century; more nearly, perhaps, in that of the -eminently national and protestant party, which in the latter part -of the sixteenth century relied upon the doctrine as the truest and -strongest bulwark against Rome and Spain. I believe in the institution -of hereditary monarchy as a divine idea, imparted to mankind, and -answering to true and healthy instincts implanted in them—like in -kind, if differing in degree, to the institution of a priesthood or -clergy. Nations may reject it if they please. In so doing they are -simply rejecting a proffered blessing, just as all of us are rejecting -blessings every day. The non-juring Bishops and their followers -brought discredit on the doctrine by their unphilosophical perversion -of it. They forgot that a dynasty, like an individual Church, may -become so degraded by the unworthiness of its members as to receive its -condemnation, as did the dynasties of Saul and of Ahab. - -The history of Europe from the middle ages to the present time -teems with instances of intense attachment to hereditary, or -quasi-hereditary, monarchy, often breaking out in the strangest and -most unaccountable way, and in the teeth of the bitterest tyranny. For -instance, it would be hard, even in the thirteenth century, to find a -monarch who had inflicted more suffering and bloodshed on his subjects -than Frederick Barbarossa inflicted on the Lombards. He was of a -different race, too, and spoke a different language. Yet when his power -had been broken under the walls of Alessandria, and he found himself -face to face with a mass of enemies from whom escape was impossible, -and whom to attack was certain defeat, he could calmly pitch his camp -in the presence of their armed hosts, in the confidence (which the -event justified) that in spite of all they would still acknowledge him -as their Sovereign, and that his life and liberty were safe in their -hands.[17] - -What is more remarkable in the death scenes of all the religious -and political martyrs or sufferers, from Sir Thomas More to Sir -Walter Raleigh, staunch as they were to the end each to his religious -creed, than the eagerness with which they repelled as an insult every -imputation of disloyalty to the Throne? And yet at least two out of the -five Sovereigns who reigned were as despicable as a Sovereign can be. -How incredible to us seems the picture of the House of Commons, in the -succeeding reign, with many of its members _in tears_ of shame, that -the Throne, and they with it, should be so degraded by its occupant! - -One hears of speeches so absorbing or exciting that men hold their -breath to listen. I used to think this was only a figure of speech; but -it happened to me once, and once only, to find it a literal fact. The -Bishop of New Zealand was preaching at St. Mary’s (Cambridge), which -was crammed with undergraduates. The subject was the Queen’s supremacy. -He described shortly and tersely the ‘shaking of the nations,’ the -abject condition, danger, or dethronement of the Sovereigns of Europe -in 1848. But when he came to our own Queen, and her tranquil security -in the midst of the storm, he used no words of his own; he simply -quoted the text, ‘He took a little child, and set her in the midst.’ It -was then that for, perhaps, ten seconds every hearer held his breath. -The silence was, from its intensity, more startling, less capable of -being forgotten, than any sound I ever heard. - -Now, I do not mean to say that the Lombards, on the occasion referred -to, acted like patterns of magnanimous loyalty. I am not quite sure -that they were not, considering all the circumstances, rather fools -for their pains. Nor do I mean to say that the extraordinary effect of -the Bishop’s words was due _solely_ to the intrinsic truth and value -of the idea suggested, or to the eagerness with which his hearers’ -instincts went out to meet it, and not in part to the perfect rhetoric -in which it was clothed. But I say that there is a vein of gold in the -substratum of all these incidents, and of hundreds of similar ones, -which refuses to float away upon any such superficial explanation—a -metal the taking away of which would leave poor humanity sadly -impoverished. - -Doubtless an hereditary Sovereign is not the only possible object of -loyalty. There may be loyalty to a President, to a ‘House,’ even, I -suppose, to a shadowy, ever-changing idea such as a Constitution. Mr. -Carlyle has taught us, to a greater extent than we can well estimate, -how to choose our heroes. But does he not fall short of entirely -satisfying us, because his conception of a hero is indissolubly bound -up with mere force of will and power of mind? Like Mr. Carlyle’s -heroes, the Presidents of Republics and the leaders of great parties -are of necessity men of iron will, muscular intellect, and, it may -safely be added, invincible digestions. Why should we narrow our field -of choice and contract our storehouse of types of rulers within this -small class? Why should we honour a man for his natural ability any -more than we honoured Tom Sayers or Lola Montez for their strength -and beauty? Does not the Bishop’s quotation suggest a deliverance from -this perplexity? May not our heroes be sometimes chosen for us? In the -long lists of the Sovereigns of past times have we not a St. Louis as -well as a Francis I., an Edward VI. as well as a Henry V., a Margaret -of Navarre as well as a Maria Theresa, an Elizabeth of Hungary as well -as an Elizabeth of England? Can even these few types be found amongst -Presidents of Republics, or could they be selected and enthroned by any -form of suffrage, universal or other? - -Therefore it is (as it seems to me) that hereditary sovereignty -naturally commends itself to men’s truest and deepest instincts as -supplying and enlisting more true types of humanity, as more readily -suggesting the idea of perfect humanity and a perfect ruler, as more -symbolic of human-divine government, than any other kind of rule. The -remembrance of sovereigns at once bad and feeble soon slips out of -history. The memory of the good, were they strong or feeble, remains -a rich ever-accumulating treasure to humanity, adding type to type, -building up in all reverent minds an ever loftier ideal of government, -which is not the less precious for being so imperfectly realized. - -A mere leader, however great, whether priest, poet, or politician, -represents his own type, his own class, or his own party. Homage -to him can seldom, if ever, be unanimous; it is ever on the brink -of degenerating into party-spirit and sectarianism. A Sovereign -represents the strong and the weak, the great and the insignificant, -the man with one talent and the man with seven, the traditions of the -past and the ideas of the present. A Sovereign is the only possible -representative of the _whole_ nation. I may be wrong, but I think that -the Australians, consciously or unconsciously, found this to be true. - - - LONDON: PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - AND PARLIAMENT STREET - - - - - FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Carlyle’s _Frederick the Great_. - -[2] This excludes 7 members returned without a contest, and makes a -total of 56 Ministerialists and 21 Opposition members, the 78th being -(I presume) the Speaker and reckoned neutral. The figures are from the -Melbourne _Argus_, February 1868. - -[3] See _Prophets and Kings_, p. 11. By the Rev. F. D. Maurice. - -[4] See a remarkable pamphlet called _The Mercantile Commander, his -Difficulties and Grievances_. Philip and Son, 32 Fleet Street. - -[5] _Our Daily Food._ By James Caird. - -[6] As an instance of this it may be mentioned that cheese, which in -March 1868 was selling at fourteenpence a pound, was in December of the -same year selling at fivepence halfpenny. - -[7] _Colonial Policy of Lord J. Russell_, vol. ii. p. 4. - -[8] I regret to say that accounts lately received (February 1869) -represent the depressed state of the colony as worse than ever, the -prospects of the coming harvest, owing to continued drought, being in -some districts very bad. It is with still greater regret that I learn -that there is a popular outcry for constructing a railway across the -island from Hobart Town to Launceston, which it is supposed will be -a panacea for all depression and stagnation of trade. That the short -railway now in course of construction from Launceston to the western -districts will bring advantages adequate to the outlay, even though it -may not pay a profit in itself, there is every reason to hope, for it -will open communication with a magnificent new agricultural district. -But the country between Hobart Town and Launceston is in general not -specially fertile; it has for many years past been traversed by an -exceptionally excellent road, over which one daily coach each way is -for the greater part of the year more than sufficient for the passenger -traffic. There is no prospect of any considerable interchange of -commodities between the two towns, as each is sufficiently supplied -with food from its own district, and each has a harbour for the -introduction of imports and shipping of exports. The distance is about -120 miles, with much difference of level and consequent engineering -difficulties. The loans and taxation necessary for its construction -will be a grievous additional burden on the colony, which it is very -ill able to bear. These considerations are so obvious to every one that -the popularity of the scheme must be attributed in a great measure to -sheer recklessness on the part of many of those who advocate it—and -indeed it is said that this has been in some quarters admitted. The -money borrowed in England will doubtless improve trade for a year or -two till it is all spent, and what follows is to be left to the chapter -of accidents. Great and praiseworthy efforts have been made by the -present administration to pare down the expenditure of the colony to a -level with the revenue—which it was considered impossible to increase -by additional taxation—and it is to be hoped they will not embark -without due consideration on so dangerous a scheme, and imperil the -credit of the colony which they have done so much to sustain. - -[9] January 1867. - -[10] _Sydney Morning Herald_, October 9, 1867. - -[11] _Sydney Morning Herald_, August 28, 1867, copied from the -_Wagga Wagga Express_ of August 24. ‘Blue Cap’ has since been -taken, and his gang broken up. Thunderbolt (November 1868) still -continues his career. - -[12] October 1, 1867. - -[13] From _Hobart Town Mercury_, January 21, 1868, copied from the -_Sydney Morning Herald_. - -[14] See Mr. Wentworth’s speech at the dinner to Sir John Young, -reported in the _Times_ in June 1868. - -[15] See _Argus_ of July 26, 1855. - -[16] See Lord Grey’s _Colonial Policy of the Administration of Lord -J. Russell_, vol. ii. p. 18. The average annual number of convicts -sent to Van Diemen’s Land, from 1840 to 1845, was no less than 3,527 -annually (see p. 5). - -[17] Sismondi, _Ital. Rep._ vol. ii. ch. xi. p. 212. - - ————————————— End of Book ————————————— - - - - - Transcriber’s Note (continued) - - -Punctuation errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in spelling, -grammar, capitalisation, and hyphenation are as they appear in the -original publication except where noted below: - - Page 6 – “preventible” changed to “preventable” (from preventable - causes:) - - Page 19 – “market-gardeners” changed to “market gardeners” (as market - gardeners) - - Page 30 – “is is” changed to “it is” (it is hard to) - - Page 78 – “ascendency” changed to “ascendancy” (maintaining an - ascendancy) - - Page 89 – “road-side” changed to “roadside” (by the roadside) - - Page 155 – “mouth” changed to “month” (once a month) - - Page 205 – “politican” changed to “politician” (or politician) - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM AUSTRALIA *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Letters from Australia</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: John Martineau</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 1, 2022 [eBook #67536]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: MWS, Quentin Campbell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM AUSTRALIA ***</div> - -<div class="coverimg center-img-cover x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <a rel="nofollow" href="images/cover.jpg"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> - </a> -</div> - -<div class="transnote chapter p4"> -<a id="top"></a> -<p class="noindent center TN-style-1 bold">Transcriber’s Note</p> - -<p class="center TN-style-1">The cover image was created from elements of the original publication -and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="center TN-style-1">See <a class="underline" href="#TN">end -of this document</a> for details of corrections and other changes.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4 b4"> -<p class="noindent center bold gesperrt" style="font-size: 200%;">AUSTRALIA.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4 b4"> -<p class="noindent x-small center">LONDON: PRINTED BY<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> -AND PARLIAMENT STREET<br /></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"></div> -<h1 class="nobreak" id="LETTERS"><span class="gesperrt">LETTERS</span><br /><br /> -<span style="font-size: 45%; line-height: 500%;">FROM</span><br /> -<span class="gesperrt" style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 200%;">AUSTRALIA.</span> -</h1> - -<p class="noindent center small p6">BY</p> - -<p class="noindent center p2 b4" style="font-size: 150%;">JOHN MARTINEAU.</p> - -<p class="noindent center p8 b4">LONDON:<br /> -LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.<br /> -1869.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak p4" id="PREFACE">PREFACE.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2">—♢—</p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">The</span> following Letters were most of them written in -Australia in 1867, and were published in the <i>Spectator</i> -in the course of that and the following year. Some -are reprinted without alteration, others have been -added to and altered, and others are new.</p> - -<p>No attempt has been made to mould them into a -continuous or complete account either of the past -history or present condition of the three colonies -which they endeavour to describe. Those of the -colonies which are old enough to possess a history -have had it already written. And as for their present -state, it would be presumptuous to suppose that fifteen -months divided between them could have sufficed to -enable me, circumstanced as I was, to give anything -like a complete account of countries so large, or to -obtain an accurate understanding of all the various -political questions and phenomena presented by them. -The organisation of school education, for instance, for -which I am told some of the Australian legislatures<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">[vi]</span> -deserve credit, was a matter that did not come under -my notice, and important as this question is now -becoming, I am unable to import any evidence bearing -upon it.</p> - -<p>In the absence of any exciting personal adventures -there was no excuse for writing a diary or personal -narrative. I was not even stopped by bushrangers; -though had I wished it, and made my wishes known, -‘Thunderbolt’ would doubtless have been delighted -to ‘stick up’ the Scone and Singleton Mail the day -I was in it, instead of two or three days later, and -again about a fortnight afterwards.</p> - -<p>But a single day, a single hour spent in a new-world -colony dissipates many delusions, and conveys many -facts and ideas and impressions of it, which no amount -of reading or of second-hand information can altogether -supply, and which ought to confer the power -of presenting a more vivid and real picture than a -mere compiler at a distance can give.</p> - -<p>These letters are therefore published, fragmentary -as they are, for what they are worth. They aim at -being accurate as far as they go, even at the expense -of being in the last degree dull.</p> - -<p>I am afraid we English are indolent and apathetic -upon political questions, however important, unless -there is the amusement and relish of party-spirit or -religious excitement to make them palatable. Hitherto<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span> -the want of interest taken by England in her colonies -has been as remarkable as it is unfortunate. Even -the discovery of gold, and all the strange and interesting -scenes and events which it produced, dispelled this -want of interest only for a time. But some day or -other, it is to be hoped, we shall wake up to the significance -of the fact that tens of thousands of able-bodied -paupers are being supported in idleness, while <i>some</i> -at least of the colonies are, under certain conditions, -offering free passages to those who will go to them. -If we think about this fact and its surrounding circumstances, -we may reflect that to ignore such questions -for the sake of discussing a ‘free breakfast-table,’ or -even an alteration of the franchise, is rather like -fiddling while Rome is burning.</p> - -<p>Sooner or later England may be forced to take a -keener interest in these matters. Pressing as is the -need for emigration, to carry it out effectually is not -so easy a matter as appears at first sight. Colonial -questions and difficulties of the utmost delicacy and -importance may arise at any time. There is a floating -population of gold-diggers in Australia with few or no -permanent interests in any one colony or country. The -discovery of a rich gold field in any new locality would -attract them from all quarters and make them a -majority for the time being of the population of the -colony in which they are, and as such the dictators of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span> -the policy of its government. What that policy might -chance to be no one can say, or how it might bear -upon immigration. In Victoria there appears, unfortunately, -to be a growing disposition to discourage it. -It is to be hoped that if any necessity for critical action -should arise we may have a Colonial Secretary -competent and willing to take the straight course and -do the right thing, to the extent of such power as still -remains to him, without too much deference to uninstructed -public opinion.</p> - -<p>I have seen more of Tasmania than of Victoria or -New South Wales, and have had access to more sources -of information concerning it. On account of its natural -features it is the pleasantest, politically it is at present -the least important of the three. Victoria presents the -most characteristic example of the working of extreme -democratic institutions. There, if anywhere, owing to -the exceptionally general dispersion amongst all classes -of men of intelligence, education, and general experience, -they have had a favourable field, and there, if one -may trust one’s eyes and ears and the opinion of those -best qualified to judge, they have produced the most -deplorable results. Since these letters were written, -an article called ‘Democratic Government in Victoria’ -appeared in the <i>Westminster Review</i> for April 1868, -evidently written by one who has a close acquaintance -(to which I can lay no claim) with the minutiæ of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> -Victorian political life. That an article so able, and -describing a condition of things so startling and so new -to people in England, should not have attracted more -attention there, is a striking instance of our apathy to -anything about the colonies. In Melbourne it created -such a sensation that there was a rush to obtain the -<i>Review</i> at almost any price; it was reprinted, and -lectured upon, and became one of the chief topics of -interest. Those who care to know what the Legislature -is like in Victoria, those who would learn to what -ultra-democratic institutions at any rate <i>may</i> tend, -should read this article. What little my observation -had enabled me to say on the same subject before its -appearance is now scarcely worth reprinting, except as -corroborative testimony (so far as it goes) of a wholly -independent observer (for I am ignorant even of the -name of the writer). ‘One result of the system which -in Victoria seems to be a necessary outcome of manhood -suffrage’ (says the writer)</p> - -<p class="smaller noindent p1">‘is to exclude any man of inconveniently refined temperament, -of a too fastidious intellect, and an oppressively severe independence -of opinion, from any part in the representation of -the colony. At the present time, it may be said, without any -exaggeration, that no such man has the smallest chance of being -elected, however liberal may be his opinions, and though he -may be a staunch democrat, as democracy is understood in -Europe, by any of the larger constituencies of Victoria, outside -of the metropolis itself. The candidate who is preferred<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span> -is the man who has nothing—who is not independent, who is -not fastidious, who is not in any way particular or remarkable. -Upon such a blank the democracy is able to impress its will -most fully....</p> - -<p class="smaller b1">... ‘As a rule when two men are opposed to each other -at an election, in three out of four of the Victorian constituencies, -the worse man, the more ignorant, the less honest, and the -more reckless is chosen.’ (Pp. 496, 498.)</p> - -<p>That is to say, the system is not only the opposite of -an aristocracy of birth, wealth, talent, or merit, it is -not only the repudiation of hero-worship in any form—even -of that lowest form of it, the worship of the demagogue -of the hour—but it is a deliberate attempt to set -up what the world has not yet had occasion even to -coin a word for—<i>Kakistocracy</i>, a Legislature composed -of the meanest and worst, chosen as such.</p> - -<p>Bad legislation is not the sole or the worst consequence -of all this. Far worse is the demoralization -with which political life is infected. The very idea of -right and wrong, true and untrue, in politics, is in -danger of being lost sight of. <i>L’État c’est moi</i>, said -Louis Quatorze, and acted accordingly. <i>Ego sum -Imperator Romanus et super grammaticam</i>,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> said an -old German Emperor, when an imperfection in his -Latinity was hinted at. ‘The majority of the Colony -is on our side, and the will of the people is above all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span> -rules of right and wrong,’ said (in effect) the Administration -of Victoria during the late ‘Darling-grant’ -crisis, being too obviously and palpably in the wrong -to use any other kind of argument. And for the time -being Louis Quatorze was for many purposes the State, -Henry the Fowler’s Latin went uncorrected, and Mr. -Higinbotham still bears sway by virtue of his majority. -But the Bourbon <i>régime</i> is no more, the principles -of Latin Grammar remain in spite of any German -Emperor, and the doctrine of the infallibility of majorities -may likewise in its turn pass away. Sooner or -later a democracy is likely to get weary of its puppet -delegates, and to revert to the instinct which prompts -men to follow strength rather than to drive weakness. -The real fear is not so much lest democracy should -become stereotyped and permanent in its present condition, -as that the legislature, demoralised and weakened -by corruption, should some day fall a too easy prey to -despotism exercised by some strong unscrupulous hand, -and aided perhaps by some one of the colossal fortunes, -such as are being accumulated there, and which their -possessors have as yet found few opportunities of -spending. What form of government can be so unstable, -so easily overturned as a corrupt ptochocracy?</p> - -<p>There are those who admitting all these evils refuse -to connect them essentially or in any degree with the -extreme democratic nature of the institutions of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span> -colony. Political results are not traceable and demonstrable -like a proposition in Euclid; but it is useless -to attempt to ignore the broad fact pointed out in the -review already quoted, that legislation has become worse -and corruption more rife as the democratic element has -been more and more developed. Objectionable as a -plutocracy is in theory, it is undeniable that the Legislative -Council, which is chosen by electors possessing -freehold worth 1000<i>l.</i> or 100<i>l.</i> a year, or being lawyers, -clergymen, &c., has been composed of members superior -beyond all comparison in character and ability to the -members of the House of Assembly which is chosen by -manhood suffrage. On the two most important questions -of the day, the Darling grant and protection, the -Upper House has been steadily right—in Australia -outside the colony itself there is scarcely any difference -of opinion as to this—and the Lower House persistently -wrong. Still less is it to be denied that it is to -the too great sensitiveness to public opinion, to the -ready and even avowed willingness of the administration -to trim its sails to every change of the popular -wind, which is the direct consequence of a democratic -constitution without proper checks, that many of the -worst evils are attributable.</p> - -<p>Others, again, there are who avowedly profess kakistocratical -principles (if I may be excused for using the -word) and say that to place men of superior virtue or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span> -talent in a position of authority is to divert and control -the natural tendency of the mass, which they consider -to be always in the right direction; therefore that it -is better that public men should be nonentities than -guides or patterns. It is impossible to argue against -such a position. One can only take issue upon it, and, -pointing to facts, say that the tyranny of majorities -over minorities is the form of tyranny most to be feared -at the present time, one which may become very prevalent -and very galling. At the last election in -Victoria the candidates on the Opposition side polled -28,888 votes against 32,728 polled by the Ministerialist -and popular party, that is, in the proportion of a little -more than seven to eight; yet the result was only 17 -Opposition, against 54 Ministerialist members.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> The -large minority did not obtain anything like an adequate -representation, and but for the still greater preponderance -in the opposite direction in the Upper House, -which the popular party seek to abolish, it would have -seemed to the world outside as if Victoria were all but -unanimous in approving the extraordinary course which -the Administration was pursuing.</p> - -<p>Looking at these figures it is some small satisfaction -to reflect that there is a minority-clause in our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span> -English Reform Bill, which asserts, however imperfectly, -the principle of representation of minorities. -But however sound the principle may be, it will be -hard to carry it out by any mere electoral device. No -one, for instance, can doubt that there is a large and -important and intelligent section of the community at -the present time which is really and not only in name -Conservative, and which sympathised with the seceders -from the late Administration, General Peel, Lord -Carnarvon, and Lord Salisbury. Yet at the elections -just over not a single candidate raised his voice on their -side, or ventured to hint at an opinion that the suffrage -might have been unduly or unwisely extended. It is -scarcely too much to say that the real Conservatives -are almost unrepresented in the present House of -Commons. It will be well if, as our constitution -becomes more democratic, a larger and larger proportion -of those who are most disinterested and best qualified -to legislate or govern have not to make way, as -has been the case in Victoria, for those who are willing -to accept the servitude and the wages of the delegate.</p> - -<p>Nor is there any security that democratic opinions -will be the only ones for which constituencies will exact -pledges. We have just seen the most disinterested -and unselfish friend that the working-men of London -possess in Parliament, in spite of his ‘advanced’ -opinions, constrained to withdraw from contesting a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span> -large constituency mainly on account of his undiplomatically -expressed preference for a just balance over -a false one, and in the face of probable defeat to make -way for nonentities who would preserve a prudent -silence on such unpleasant topics.</p> - -<p>All honour to those amongst our public men who -hold popular opinions honestly, and prove their honesty -by the consistency of their private lives. The danger -is lest they should be swamped by those who having -in reality no such convictions profess them with the -greater ostentation. For the former are likely to be -few in number. The genuine democrat, the man who -is readiest to sacrifice himself for the mass, does not in -general seek public life.</p> - -<p>Those whose convictions are different, are none the -less bound in honour to cling to them, because they -involve (as far as can be foreseen) inevitable and perpetual -political ostracism. It is indeed said, that -whether an unmixed democracy be a blessing or not -matters little; for it is ordained for us—as is plain -enough—sooner or later, and all efforts can but stave -it off for a time. It may be so. And it <i>may</i> be, at the -same time, that it is coming because we have brought -it down upon ourselves, invoked our own wholesome -punishment, as the Jews did when they asked for a -king to reign over them. It may be thus, and thus -only, that the <i>vox populi</i> which demands democracy,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</span> -and the <i>vox Dei</i> which grants and ordains it, are in -harmony.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> If Samuel was not ashamed to be so far -‘behind the age’ as to tremble at the decree, and to -shudder at the thought of the sons and daughters of -Israel becoming slaves to an oriental despot, may not -some of us be justified in seeking at least to stave off -some of the changes that seem to be in store for us, and -in shrinking with abhorrence from the Nessus-robe of -corruption which seems to be a prominent characteristic -of ultra-democracy?</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table class="toc"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - <td class="tdr" style="font-size: 50%;">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> A Voyage to Australia</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#I">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Melbourne</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#II">13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Ballarat</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#III">26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Squatting in Victoria</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#IV">35</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Politics in Victoria</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#V">50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Tasmania</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#VI">59</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Tasmania</span> (<i>continued</i>)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#VII">71</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Tasmania</span> (<i>continued</i>)</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#VIII">85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Sydney and its Neighbourhood</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#IX">101</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> An Institution of New South Wales</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#X">115</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Political Difficulties of New South Wales</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XI">121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Aristocracy and Kakistocracy</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XII">132</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Mother and Daughter</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XIII">149</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Home Again</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XIV">162</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Change of Air</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XV">180</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> A Plea for Australian Loyalty</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XVI">192</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap"> Loyalty and Cynicism</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#XVII">200</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">A VOYAGE TO AUSTRALIA.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Some people</span> who have been to the Antipodes and -back will tell you that a voyage to Australia in a good -sailing ship is a very pleasant way of spending three -months. Seen through the halo of distance it may -seem so; certainly it leaves pleasant and amusing -reminiscences behind. But I doubt if one person in -twenty on board our excellent ship the <i>Mercia</i>, provided -as she was with every comfort, or on board any -other ship whatsoever, if cross-examined <i>during</i> the -voyage, would have persisted that he was thoroughly -enjoying it. From the first, a resigned rather than -a cheerful look is to be noticed among the passengers. -Even those who at starting were loudest in their praises -of a sea life spoke in the same breath of finding means, -and slender means they seemed, of relieving its tedium -and monotony.</p> - -<p>We left Plymouth in the fag end of a gale. The -second day, just about the place where the <i>London</i> is -supposed to have gone down, a large piece of timber -was floating high out of the water. We passed within -twenty yards of it, and I then saw it was the keel of -a vessel, of three or four hundred tons, capsized, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -drifting bottom upwards. There was still a good deal -of swell, and it would have been dangerous as well -as useless to lower a boat; so we passed it almost in -silence, and in a few minutes it was out of sight astern.</p> - -<p>For a week or so the cuddy and even the poop were -almost deserted. By degrees the population emerged -from their cabins like rabbits from their burrows, to -the number of forty or more, so that there was scarcely -room to sit at table. Most of the passengers are -Australians, ‘old chums,’ who have crossed the Line -more than once, and are going back, either because -the east winds of the old country last too long and -are too keen after an Australian sun, or because they -have come to an end of their holiday. Even among -second and third class passengers this is so, for the -attraction homewards is still strong, and it is common -enough, it seems, for clerks and persons holding mercantile -situations to get a year’s leave to go home. -There are one or two brides, and about a dozen -others, not yet Australian, some of them more or -less invalids, taking the voyage for pure sea air’s sake, -and hoping by following the sun across the Line to -enjoy three summers in succession. Six children and -a nurse abide in one stern-cabin; the other has been -fitted up luxuriously and artistically with cushions, -pictures, and loaded book-shelves, by a man who -apparently intends to pass the time in literary retirement -in the bosom of his family. Alas! in the stern -there is motion on the calmest day. Not an hour is it -possible to write or read there without experiencing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -certain premonitory symptoms necessitating an adjournment -to the fresh air on deck.</p> - -<p>It is not easy to be alone or to be industrious at any -time on board ship. But it is not till you enter the -tropics that exertion of body or mind seems to become -impossible. It is then that your limbs almost refuse -to move, your eyes to see, and your brains to think. -The deck is strewn all day with slumbering forms. -No plank, no hen-coop redolent of unpleasant odours, -is so hard as to repel sleep. It is seldom that a sail -needs setting or taking in. Even the barometer almost -refuses to move, and influenced (it is said) only by the -tide, sinks and rises almost inappreciably with lazy -regularity. Nor is there often any excitement to -arouse us. Twice only throughout the voyage is land -seen: the rough jagged outline of Madeira, and the -Desertas, rising from a smooth sheet of blue and purple -water, and standing out against the glowing colours of -the setting sun; and a few days later Palma, hiding -the Peak of Teneriffe. We hope in vain to see, later -on, Trinidad (the southern, not the West Indian, -Trinidad) and Tristan da Cunha. There are two -months in which the horizon is straight with a straightness -abhorred on land by nature, such as even the -deserts of Africa do not afford. Can it be that so much -of the globe is always to be a dreary waste of waters? -Is it all needed to make wind and rain, and to be a -purifier of the land? Or when earth is overpeopled, -will a new creation spring out of the sea? At any -rate, there is change of some kind going on. We are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -unpleasantly made aware of this by a sudden cessation -of wind, with calms, squalls, and foul wind, off the -Canaries, in what should be the very heart of the -trade-winds—the trades, whose blast used to be as -steady and uniform as the course of the sun itself. A -great change has occurred, says the captain ruefully, -even in his time (and he is not forty,) in their regularity. -If they go on at this rate, there may be none -at all in a century, and not Maury himself can foresee -the consequences of that.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the luck is with us when we come -to the much-dreaded belt of calms, which lies near the -equator, shifting north and south of it, according to -the time of year, but always more to the north than -to the south of it. Often are ships detained there for -days, and even weeks, drenched in tropical rain, which -makes it necessary to keep the skylights shut, to the -great discomfort of everyone, except the ducks and -geese, which are for the only time during the voyage -released from their narrow coops, and put in possession -of unlimited water and free range of the poop. For -two or three weeks the thermometer stands at from -80° to 84°, not varying perceptibly day or night. In -the upper-deck cabins there is plenty of ventilation—you -may make them a race-course of draughts,—but -below it is intolerable. It is unsafe to sleep on deck -at night, for the air is charged with moisture. Portmanteaux, -bags, hats, coats, and boots cover themselves -with furry coats of green and blue mould. It is not -unhealthy, but it is enervating and wearisome, except<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -for five minutes soon after sunrise, when in the intervals -of washing the decks the hose is turned upon you, -as you stand thinking the warm air clothing enough. -There is not much to look at but the flying-fish, as -they rise in flocks, frightened from under the ship’s -bows, and tumble in again with a splash a hundred -yards off; and at night the brilliant phosphorescence -which lights up the white foam in the vessel’s wake. -For two days amongst the Madeiras turtles floated -by asleep, but they were too wary to be caught.</p> - -<p>It was a relief when one day, south of Trinidad, the -air grew suddenly cooler, the flying-fish disappeared, -and the first Cape-pigeon, and the first albatross, then -Cape-geese, Cape-hens, and I know not what other -birds, gave us hope that our voyage was half over, and -that in ten days we might be in the longitude of the -Cape. From hence till land was sighted some of these -birds were always in sight of the ship. Sometimes -four and five albatrosses at once were swooping about -astern, some of them showing marks of having been -struck with shot. It was useless to shoot at them, for -they would have been lost; but we caught two with -baited hooks, one measuring nine feet from wing to -wing, and, unmindful of the ‘Ancient Mariner,’ slew -and stuffed them.</p> - -<p>I paid my footing on the forecastle, and hoped to see -something of the crew. But one is apt to be in the way -there, and it is difficult to know much of the sailors. -Few realise—though it is a trite saying—how completely -seafaring men are a race apart. Their habits,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -ideas, wants, dangers, and hardships are almost unknown -to landsmen. Seeing with one’s own eyes how much -hardship even now, and in the best appointed ships, occasionally -falls to the lot of sailors, makes one aghast at -the bare thought of what the miseries of a long voyage -must have been in the old days before lime-juice and -ventilation, and when the death or prostration of two-thirds -of a crew from scurvy was quite a common occurrence. -One begins to comprehend with amazement -how the old discoverers must have had the souls of -giants to sail month after month over unknown oceans -and along unmapped coasts. Nor do landsmen realise -how much loss of life there is at sea in merchant-ships, -and how large a proportion of it is from preventable -causes: how ships sail and are never heard of, and because -there are no facts to make a story of, the papers -scarcely mention it. Few but those in the merchant-service -know how often, in order to save the expense -of keeping ships idle in harbour, they are, after being -fully insured, hurried to sea in utterly unseaworthy -condition, with stores hastily put on board and so ill -stowed that nothing is to be found when it is wanted, -with crews engaged only the day before sailing, and consequently -undisciplined, unknown to their officers, and -frequently ill and useless from the effects of dissipation -on shore, from the effects of which they have not had time -to recover.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> If the <i>London</i> belonged (as I believe it did)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -to an exceptionally well-managed line of ships, how must -it be with ships on ill-managed lines? It is true that a -merchant-captain has it very much in its power to make -his crew comfortable or miserable, and may often be a -tyrant if he chooses. But it is also true that he is often -very much at the mercy of his crew, amongst whom the -chances are that he has at least one or two unruly and -perhaps almost savage specimens. And with a new and -strange crew every voyage, it is extremely difficult for -him to establish and maintain discipline. He has very -little power to punish, and in fact always does so at the -risk of an action for assault at the end of the voyage. -He often <i>dares</i> not put a mutinous man in irons because -he cannot spare him; and it is sometimes only by sheer -physical strength, by the knowledge that he could and -would, if necessary, knock down any man in the ship -who defied him, that he can maintain his authority. I -have known a sailor after being some days in irons for -mutinous conduct, say by way of an apology for his -behaviour that hitherto he had always sailed in small -ships, and had been accustomed, if he had a difference -with his captain, to ‘have it out’ with him on the poop. -A few days later the same man when drunk flew at -the captain like a tiger, and had to be taken below -and fastened to the main-deck like a wild beast, spread-eagle -fashion, to keep him quiet.</p> - -<p>Of the captain and officers, on the other hand, we -see a great deal. Nothing can exceed their patience -in listening to anything, reasonable or unreasonable, -which the passengers have to say or to complain of, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -in answering any questions, sensible or foolish. It is a -hard, wearing, anxious life for them, requiring nerve, -temper, and power of endurance. A ship often has only -two responsible officers, so that each has at least half of -every night for his watch on deck (in all weathers be -it remembered) in addition to his work by day. Yet -for this a chief officer gets the miserable pittance of 7<i>l.</i> -a month, and a second mate and doctor 5<i>l.</i> a month, -sometimes even less, ceasing immediately at the end of -the voyage. One could wish that the great shipowners, -wealthy as they must be, were a little more liberal in -this respect. The butcher, on the other hand, is a man -of capital, and comes furnished with a crowd of bulldogs, -canary-birds, thrushes, and other animals, which -bring him in a handsome profit at the end of the -voyage.</p> - -<p>The <i>Mercia</i> is a sailing-ship, as all but two of the -Australian ships are, and has no auxiliary screw. It -is a real pleasure, for once, to be out of the way of -steam-power, to be entirely at the mercy of winds and -waves, and dependent on good old-fashioned seamanship. -If a voyage lasts longer without steam, it is far more -interesting and pleasant. There is an interest in seeing -the sails worked, in pulling at a rope now and then. -There is a little excitement in watching for a change of -wind, in welcoming the moment in bad weather when -the sensitive aneroid ceases falling and takes a turn, in -anticipating a good or a bad day’s run, in tracing the -sometimes tortuous course on the chart, in speculating -on the chance of an island being sighted or passed three<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -or four hundred miles off. And in the morning there -is something to be said about what the ship has done -in the night; perhaps she has unexpectedly been put -on the other tack, whereby somebody who had gone to -sleep with his window open got a sea into his cabin. Or -a sail has been split, or a spar carried away by a -squall. All this is better at any rate than the everlasting -monotonous throb of a steamer’s screw, the -uniform day’s run which you can predict within twenty -knots, the even sameness of the course drawn like a -straight line across the ocean, and the smoke and smells -of steam and oil (it is castor-oil) of the engines. And -as for beauty, to stand by the wheel on the poop of a -large ship, when the wind is light and fair and the -studding-sails are set, projecting like wings over the -ship’s sides, and to look up amongst the towering curves -of canvas and the maze of ropes and spars, is a very -beautiful sight, a sight which tourists do not often see -nowadays, and which in a generation or two, when the -world is still more stifled with smoke and steam, may -not be to be seen by anyone.</p> - -<p>It is well if a voyage passes without quarrels among -the passengers. In such close quarters, one must be -inoffensive indeed to offend nobody. If you are cordial -friends with a fat or unwashed man who has sat next -you at three meals every day for three months, and with -a loud voice insisted on being helped first to everything, -your disposition must be amiable indeed. Except the -relation between the two Lords Justices of the Court -of Chancery, compared with which the bond of matrimony<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -itself is a trifle, I know none so trying as close -juxtaposition on board ship. You are at the mercy of -the noisiest, the least scrupulous, and the most officious. -If a man drinks, he will drink twice as much at sea, -where he has nothing else to do. And you are lucky -if you escape having one man at least among the passengers -who drinks to excess.</p> - -<p>However, eating, sleeping, or talking, we are always -going; that is the great satisfaction. The average -daily run greatly increases as we get south. Between -40° and 45° south latitude there are no more light or -foul winds for a ship sailing east, and the course is -straight, at the rate of about 250 knots a day. But it -gets colder and colder, till one day, just as we are -considering the chances of being carried to the south -of Prince Edward’s and Kerguelen Islands, the wind -changes from north or north-west to south or south-west. -It is equally fair for us, but we suddenly experience -what it is to have a temperature of 40°, or -lower, snow and hail falling, draughts as usual, and no -possibility of a fire. It generally blows half a gale, -sometimes a whole one. You cannot walk the deck -to warm your feet, but must hold on fast, and take -your chance of a drenching from one of the heavy seas, -which from time to time strike the ship abeam, or on -the quarter, with a noise like a ten-pound shot out of -a gun. I cannot pretend to guess the height of the -waves, but they are beyond comparison bigger than -any I ever saw on the English coast. Standing on the -poop, eighteen or twenty feet above the water, I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -often seen the sun, when near its setting, <i>through</i> the -clear green crest of a wave. For four or five days it -is so misty and overcast that no observation of the sun -can be obtained, and our position can be inferred only -by ‘dead reckoning.’ Some seaweed has been seen. -The currents are uncertain hereabouts, and even the -position of the islands has, till within the last few years, -been incorrectly laid down in the charts. So that the -captain looks more harassed than usual, and does not -leave the deck for long at a time, till at last we run -into finer weather and see the sun again, and ascertain -that we have been making a straight course in exactly -the right direction and at a glorious rate.</p> - -<p>And now the air gets daily clearer and drier; we -are getting into the Australian climate. At last the -day comes for sighting land. For an hour or more it -is doubtful, then it is certain, that land is in sight. I -put the day down as a red-letter day in my life, as we -pass within a mile or two of Cape Otway, and see the -red sandy cliffs, the pale green grass close to the water’s -edge, the lighthouse and telegraph station above, and -behind, the ranges of thick impenetrable bush, huge -forest trees, with their dark foliage standing out -against the sky, a landscape as wild and unsullied by -the hand of man as though it were a thousand miles -from a settlement. One longs to be landed there and -then, but the breeze is fair and strong, and though at -sunset we take in all sail but topsails, we rush on, and -are forced to heave-to before midnight, pitching and -rolling in the swell, lest we get beyond Port Phillip<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -Heads in the night. Soon after midnight all are astir, -for there is a rumour that the pilot is coming. A large -star near the horizon is to be seen. It moves, gets -larger; it is not a star; the moon’s rays fall upon -something indistinct on the waves beneath it, and -shining white as silver a little schooner with a light at -her mast-head shoots under the stern. The pilot -climbs on board. Three more hours’ pitching, and the -long low Heads are left astern of us, and we are in -smooth water. As the Melbourne folk are sitting down -to their Sunday’s breakfast, and those in England are -going to bed for their Saturday night’s rest, our anchor -drops in Hobson’s Bay, a mile or more from the long, -low, sandy coast. Fronting us is Sandridge, the port -of Melbourne; to the right, as far as the eye can see, -dark green foliage, broken by clusters of houses and -bare spaces of sand; and to the left, a marshy, sandy -plain, bounded by the distant ranges, purple as the -hills of Gascony or the Campagna.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">MELBOURNE.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent">‘<span class="smcap">All I</span> can see is my own, and all I can’t see is my -son’s,’ was the complacent remark, it is said, of John -Batman, as he stood, some thirty-two years ago, looking -over a vast tract of country which he thought he -had bought as his own freehold from the aborigines -for a few blankets and tomahawks. That tract of -country comprised the ground whereon now stands -Melbourne, nearly if not quite, the largest city in the -southern half of the globe; in importance, actual or -prospective, in the first rank of British cities.</p> - -<p>Truly English it looks as yet, at first sight at any -rate. After a long, wearisome voyage, the first impression -is almost one of disappointment at having -come so far only to see sights and hear sounds so -familiar. Long before you land, the familiar ugly -staring letters, with which the British shopkeeper delights -to deface his dwelling, are visible on the waterside -houses. A commonplace railway-train, with two -classes to choose between, not one only, as might have -been expected in a land of democracy, receives you at -the shore end of the long wooden pier. You are set -down in ten minutes in Melbourne itself, amongst cars,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -shops, hotels, and all the external appliances of old-world -civilisation. But this first impression soon -passes away. Already before entering the city itself, -a white plain, marshy in winter, dried up and arid in -summer, has been passed over. It is dotted over with -little one-storied wooden houses, of which the verandah -seems to be the most important part, and which are -more like the mushroom erections on the sand <i>dunes</i> of -Arcachon in the <i>landes</i> of Gascony than any habitation -on English soil. And I suppose there is no spot in -Melbourne where a man waking up, as from an enchanted -sleep, and ignorant where he was, could for a -moment fancy he was in England.</p> - -<p>From the railway station you enter at once into -the heart of the town. You pass into fine, straight, -generally sloping streets, which will compare favourably -with those of any English provincial town for width, for -the number of well-filled showy shop-windows, and for -the ambitious and costly architecture of the public -buildings, hotels, and especially banks, which last are -always numerous and conspicuous in Australian towns. -First in importance among them is Collins Street, the -Regent Street of Melbourne. Parallel, and scarcely -inferior in rank to it, is Bourke Street, and at right -angles to these are Elizabeth Street and four or five -more which may be said to come next in dignity. -These and several narrower ones, most of which are -quiet and dignified and full of merchants’ offices, make -up the most important part of Melbourne proper, as -distinguished from the suburbs, each of which, though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -an integral part of the capital, has a sort of separate -existence of its own, and bears a relation to it more resembling -that of Kensington or Hampstead to London, -than that of Marylebone or Mayfair. This central -part of the town is the original and old part, if it may -be so called in comparison to the rest. It was planned -out long before Melbourne was a populous or important -city, in the days when Governors ruled as well as -reigned, and was systematically laid out in alternately -broad and narrow roadways. It was intended that -only the broad ones should have houses built along them, -the narrow ones being meant only for back entrances -to the gardens and outbuildings which were to occupy -the intervening space. But both have now long since -been turned into streets of contiguous houses.</p> - -<p>The lowness of the houses strikes a new comer from -England as a feature which makes the general appearance -of the city different from anything at home. -Even in the heart of it, where space is so valuable -that one might have expected it would be more economised, -the houses have generally only one story above -the ground floor, and in the suburbs often not even -that. This is made all the more conspicuous by the -width of the streets. These are not paved but are -well macadamized, and are now in good order in all -weathers; but on each side of them you have to cross -by little bridges, if you are on foot, or if you are driving, -to bump down into and through broad, deep, paved -gutters, or rather water-courses full of running water, -which exhibit nature not yet quite submissive to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -civilization. After heavy rain, torrents of water rush -down them to such an extent that boats are sometimes -required in some of the lower streets. There is a -tradition that before Flinders Street was macadamized -the mud was so deep there that a baby jolted out of a -car was drowned in a rut before it could be picked up. -In the principal thoroughfares the traffic on the foot-pavement -is considerable enough, and indicates a large -and busy population. But the roadway looks rather -empty. In an afternoon you may see a good many -buggies and a few English-looking carriages driving -about; but there is never anything approaching to a -continuous string of vehicles of any kind in motion. -There are plenty of street-cars, or jingles as they are -called, which are like Irish cars with the seat turned -breadthways instead of lengthways, and with a covering -to keep off sun and rain. Here and there are to -be seen stands of drays waiting to be hired, as if the -population were in a chronic state of change of domicile.</p> - -<p>The wind and blinding sun make one wish that the -streets were a little less straight, both to add to their -picturesqueness, and so as to afford a little more shelter. -Whether the keen wind in winter or the hot wind of -summer be blowing, the lee-side of a wall is equally -desirable. In summer after a day or two of parching -hot wind from the north, the south wind will -suddenly come into conflict with it, producing what is -called a ‘Southerly Buster’—a whirlwind full of dust, -filling the air and darkening the sky, and resulting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -always in the victory of the south wind, and in a fall -of temperature of twenty or thirty degrees in less than -half an hour. But if curved streets are in some -respects desirable, it must not be at the expense of a -peculiar and most attractive feature in those of Melbourne, -namely, that many of them have at each end a -vista of open sky or distant mountain ranges, which in -the clear dry air are always blue and distinct, and give -a sense of space and freedom not common in the midst -of large cities.</p> - -<p>The respectable Briton everywhere clings to his -black hat and black coat with tenacity. But the -summer heat of Australia is too much for him, and -white hats, or felt ones with stiff falling brim, and thick -white pugrees give a semi-Indian look to the population. -Those who have to do with horses, whether -stockmen from the bush or livery-stable helpers, are -particularly unlike their type in England. Instead of -being the neatest and most closely buttoned and closely -shaved of men, they will perhaps wear no coat or -waistcoat, a purple flannel shirt, white linen inexpressibles, -dirty unpolished jack-boots, a cabbage-tree hat, -and a long beard. Follow one of them into the great -horse-yard in Bourke Street, the Melbourne Tattersall’s. -The broken horses are first sold, very much as they -might be at Aldridge’s. Then the auctioneer goes to -an inner part of the yard, where in large pens, strongly -built of timber and six or seven feet high, is a ‘mob’ -of a hundred or more four-year-old unbroken colts -huddled together and as wild as hawks. Bidders climb<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -up on to the railings and examine them as well as they -can from there, for it is no easy matter to go amongst -them or to distinguish one from the rest. The auctioneer -puts them up for sale separately, and somehow -or other, with much cracking of whips, each as his turn -comes is driven out from among the rest into a separate -pen. Probably the best of the mob had been picked -out previously, for the commonest price at which I heard -them knocked down was seventeen shillings and sixpence -a-piece, and it is difficult to believe that, cheap as -horses are in Australia, a good colt could be worth -so little as that.</p> - -<p>The space covered by Melbourne and its suburbs is, -compared with an English or European town, out -of all proportion large for the population. Short -suburban railways, running all through and about it, -make it easy for people to live at some distance from -where their work is. Between one suburb and another -there are often dreary spaces of bare ground, destitute -of grass, and dusty or muddy according to the season. -The population in some places is so sparse that you may -have to wait some minutes if you want to ask your way -of a passer-by. There is a so-called street, quite unknown -to fame, rejoicing in the name of Hoddle Street -(why Hoddle, and who or what Hoddle was, I have no -idea), which cannot be much less, I should think, than -three miles long. One end of it passes through a large, -poorly-built suburb, called Collingwood; it then emerges -into open ground and passes through some meadows -by the river-side, which in a flood are sometimes many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -feet deep in water. For want of a bridge it (or rather -its continuity or identity) crosses the river in a punt, -and, still being Hoddle Street, forms part of South -Yarra, a locality which disputes with Toorak the honour -of being the Belgravia or Mayfair of Melbourne. -Emerging from South Yarra it enters a sandy flat near -the sea-shore, and ends its career (I believe, for I never -followed it so far) somewhere in the pleasant sea-side -suburb of St. Kilda.</p> - -<p>The foreign element in Melbourne is very small. -There are few Germans and fewer French. Only the -Chinese are noticeable for their numbers. One meets -them in the streets looking quite at home there, not -begging, as in Europe, but prosperous and industrious. -It is said that there are twenty thousand Chinamen in -Victoria alone. One narrow street in the middle of -Melbourne is inhabited almost exclusively by them, -and is conspicuous with quaint blue and gold signboards -covered with Chinese characters, looking like a -large bit of tea-caddy, the proprietor’s name being put -up in English letters underneath, for the information of -outer barbarians. Sun-kum-on is a very conspicuous -name on one of the wharves at Sydney. Public opinion, -which was very hostile to the Chinese at one time, seems -to have rather turned in their favour. In New South -Wales there was an Act of the Legislature excluding -them, but it has lately been repealed. They do work -which other people despise, and by their abstemious and -parsimonious habits will slowly get rich on gold-fields -abandoned by other diggers as worked out. As market<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -gardeners, they have done a real service to the Melbourne -people. Formerly there were few if any -vegetables to be had there in summer. It was supposed -to be too dry and too hot to raise them. But by -elaborate irrigation, unstinted spade labour, and abundant -application of manure, the Chinese raise crop after -crop of vegetables at all seasons, and in all soils. I saw -two acres of ground in one of the suburbs which had -been left uncultivated, and was altogether unprofitable, -till five Chinamen rented it for 25<i>l.</i> a year, and now they -contrive to raise 300<i>l.</i> worth of garden produce yearly. -They are a race living quite apart. They do not bring -their wives with them from China; there are not more -than three or four Chinese women in all Victoria, it is -said. And the poorest of the poor of other races, probably -with good reason (as one’s nose suggests), will -not live with them, much less intermarry with them.</p> - -<p>The great and ever-present charm of Melbourne -consists in the exceptionally vigorous and active -appearance of its population. This is due simply to -the fact that the great bulk of it was formed by the -almost simultaneous immigration of men who are not -yet grown old. As yet there are comparatively few -old people to be seen about; and everybody seems -hard at work and able to work. An immense majority -of the grown-up men and women were born and bred -in England. Many whom one meets about the streets -look as if they might have a history of their own, full -of interest and strange adventure, none perhaps more -than the car-drivers, an occupation followed by some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -who have been used to a very different position in life. -I never drove in a car without asking all I dared, and -speculating as to what the reason was in each case for -wandering to the Antipodes. Physically the Melbourne -people are likely to be above the average; for, in the -early days of the colony at least, the sick and weakly -in constitution did not think of committing themselves -to the then uncertain hardships and discomforts of a -voyage and a new country. A certain degree of force -of character too is probable in those who have had -resolution enough to break through home ties and cast -their lot in another hemisphere. Hence also in some -respects the tie with the old country is a closer and -firmer one than in most of the other Australian colonies. -There is quite a crowd and an excitement about the -post office for some time before the English mail -closes. Little stalls are erected by newspaper-sellers, -provided with pen, ink, and cover, to direct and -despatch the newspapers to friends at home, and a brisk -trade they seem to do. Home associations and reminiscences -underlie and prevail over more recent ones. -Even the word ‘colonial’ is often used to express -disparagement; ‘colonial manners,’ for instance, is -now and then employed as a synonym for roughness or -rudeness.</p> - -<p>In nothing is the energy and enterprise of the -Melbourne people more conspicuous than in their -public works. Lately, indeed, either money has not -been so plentiful or else the desire of building has been -less ardent, for many buildings have been left unfinished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -and in very unsightly plight. But the Post-office -<i>is</i> finished, and is a really magnificent building -in its way. On the Legislative Council and Assembly -Chambers an incredible amount of pains and money -must have been expended, though perhaps with hardly -adequate result. The architecture of the public -buildings generally, if not always successful or in the -best taste, is on the whole at least as good as in the -average of public buildings at home; though it is -disappointing to find that new requirements of climate -have failed to inspire any originality of style or design, -such as one sees growing up naturally and spontaneously -in private houses, whether suburban villas or station-houses -in the bush.</p> - -<p>But the institutions of the Museum, the Public -Library, the Acclimatisation Gardens, and the Botanical -Gardens, are above all cavil and beyond all praise. -The last two in particular, aided as they are by a -favourable climate, promise before many years are over -to equal anything of the kind anywhere. Last and -greatest of all is the great Yan-Yean Reservoir, which -from twenty miles off pours its streams into the baths, -fountains, gardens, and dusty streets of the thirsty city. -Every house has its water-meter, and the price is only -a shilling for a thousand gallons. Without this generous -supply the suburbs would in summer be a Sahara, -with a few dismal, almost leafless, gum-trees, instead of -being brightened by pleasant gardens, enriched with -English as well as semi-tropical flowers and fruits. -The stiff clay, which is a quagmire in winter, dries up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -in summer like a sun-baked brick. Garden lawns are -with difficulty kept green by Yan-Yean water turned -on, not at intervals, but continuously through a perforated -pipe. Yet the grass two or three feet off is -quite dry. The water escapes through the first crack -and is gone.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, one soon experiences that a Circumlocution-Office -is a Victorian quite as much as a -home institution. Goods of all kinds, including passengers’ -luggage, are brought up by railway from -each ship as it arrives, and discharged into a vast -shed at the Melbourne railway station; and as there -is now a tariff on most manufactured articles, nothing -is allowed to leave the shed till it has been more -or less inspected. Many hours did it take to select -my various needles from this great bundle of hay, -but it was not till my two saddles turned up that -any difficulties were made about releasing them. On -seeing them, a very young clerk in a cloth cap at a high -desk referred me to a white-haired superior official, -who shook his head and refused to let the saddles pass -without an order from the commander-in-chief of the -shed, who inhabits an office at its extreme end. Alas! -the commander-in-chief, though the most courteous and -obliging of men (as were indeed all the officials with -whom I had to do that day), pronounced that I must -‘pass an entry’—I think that is the expression—at -the Custom-house. So to the Custom-house, a quarter -of a mile off—the ugliest erection that ever was built -or left half-built—I trudged. Going into a large hall I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -addressed a clerk, who gave me into the care of another -clerk, who took me downstairs, and introduced me to a -Custom-house agent, and then the real business began. -Dictating to him, I made an affirmation to the effect -that the saddles were old and for my own personal -use, which affirmation having been, after one or two -unsuccessful attempts, made in precise accordance with -the facts of the case and duly signed, Custom-house -agent, affirmation, and I walked upstairs to the anteroom, -and at length to the sanctum of some high -official, who after gently cross-examining me vouchsafed -to append his initials, whereupon Custom-house agent, -affirmation, and I walked downstairs again to the place -whence we had come. I suppose I looked a little -weary—it was a piping hot day—at this stage of the -proceedings, for the Custom-house agent reassuringly -remarked that it would not take more than a quarter -of an hour more, a statement hardly verified by the -result. The next step was for the Custom-house -agent to make a memorandum of the nature of my -affirmation, to make a number of copies thereof (I -did not count how many, but there must have been -at least five), and to despatch them by messengers, -whither or wherefore I know not, nor why so many, -unless they were tentative, in hopes of procuring a -favourable response from one out of many possible -sources. Anyhow, a sealed letter did at last arrive -from somewhere; it was handed to me; I left the building, -made for the shed, and delivered it to the commander-in-chief, -who wrote and gave me another missive<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -to the white-haired clerk, who made it all right with -the young clerk in the cap, who gave me a pass-ticket, -which I gave to my drayman, who gave it to the -porter at the yard gate, who allowed the dray to pass, -and I and my saddles were free.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">BALLARAT.</span></p> - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Two</span> hours’ railway travelling will take you from Melbourne -to Geelong, over rich, flat, grassy plains, with -scarcely a tree, nothing but ugly posts and rails to -break their outline. In summer these plains must be -parched and dreary beyond description; but it is May -now, and the autumn rains have made them green as -an emerald and pleasant for the eye to rest on. Geelong -is scarcely worth stopping at, unless to speculate -upon why it is not Melbourne, and Melbourne it, as -might have been the case—so superior in many ways -is its situation—if its harbour bar had been cut through -a few years sooner. During two more hours’ railway -you rise gradually, and emerge from a forest of ill-grown, -scrubby gums, upon a large, undulating, -irregular amphitheatre, surrounded by small hills. -Seventeen years ago the locality was scarcely ever -visited except by blacks, for it was covered with bush -and unproductive. Now it is Ballarat, the fourth city -in Australia. A strange, irregular, uncouth, human -ant-hill it is, with its miscellaneous cells above, and its -galleries beneath the ground. You may walk two -miles and more, from east to west or from north to -south, without getting fairly out of the town. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -houses are of all sorts, shapes, and sizes, generally not -contiguous, and the majority consisting of a ground-floor -only. Most conspicuous are the hotels, and the -banks, glorying in stone fronts and plate glass, as befits -their dignity; for are they not suckers at the fountainhead, -drawing the golden stream which, joining other -rills, waters the whole world of commerce? Next -door to one of these is perhaps a common log-hut, or a -two-roomed cottage of corrugated iron, or a large shop -stocked till its miscellaneous contents overflow through -doors and windows, and are hung on hooks and pegs -outside. Next to this, perhaps, and still in the heart -of the town, may be an acre or two of ground covered -with disgorged gravel and mud, in the midst of which, -and at one end of a great mound twenty or thirty feet -high, puffs and sobs a steam engine, as it works the -shaft and puddles the produce of the gold mine beneath. -It is easy to gain admittance to a gold mine, -at least if the manager is satisfied that you are not a -spy, and are not interested in the ‘claim’ which lies -nearest this one, and with which it probably is, or will -be as a matter of course, engaged in litigation as soon -as the workings of either approach the boundary between -them. Boundaries above ground are productive -enough of disputes, but they are nothing to boundaries -under ground. The richest harvest reaped by the -Victorian bar is that of mining; cases and mining -Appeals. But there is not much to see in a mine. -Down below I suppose it is not so very different from -a coal mine (for the gold is far too minute in quantity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -to be visible), and not much cleaner. The operations -at the surface consist simply in stirring and washing -the mud and gravel with water in various ways till the -gold settles at the bottom. But a good big panfull of -some two thousand pounds’ worth of the clean yellow -gold is a pretty thing to see for once.</p> - -<p>But the strangest place in Ballarat is an unsightly -piece of ground on the slope of a hill, many acres in -extent, which has been turned over, heaped up, scooped -out, drained, flooded, undermined, perforated, shored -up with timber, sifted, scarified, and otherwise tormented -as Mother Earth never was tormented before. -It is the remains of the old surface diggings, almost (if -not quite) the first discovered, and the richest in all -Australia, but long since worked out, and now deserted -and dismal. It is a pity that no scribbling digger -kept a journal during the first year or two after gold -was found. Generally speaking, I believe the stories -which are told of those days are strictly true. The -reality was so strange, so different from any other condition -of circumstances conceivable in this century, -the crowds suddenly collected were so miscellaneous, -and at first so entirely emancipated from all rule, precedent, -or prejudice, that there was enough that was -original and ludicrous without having recourse to -exaggeration and caricature. I believe it is a fact, -and no fiction, that a successful digger had a gold -collar made for his dog, that he, like his master, might -put aside his working dress and be magnificent for the -rest of his days. It is a fact that another rode through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -Ballarat with his horse shod with gold. To keep a -carriage and pair was the great ambition of a digger’s -wife. There was a woman near Colac who lived in a -common log-hut, with nothing but mud for floor, and a -couple of stools and a bench or two for furniture. -Outside the hut was the carriage, under a tarpaulin, -and a pair of horses grazed near. For a year or more -she was constantly to be seen on the road to Geelong. -Her son drove, and she sat inside in silks and satins -gorgeously arrayed, a short pipe in her mouth, and -the gin bottle reposing on the cushion by her side.</p> - -<p>One day at Ballarat a man rushed up to the police -magistrate, his face livid, and speechless with excitement, -so that the magistrate began to think he had just -committed or witnessed a murder. At last he found -words to express himself. He had come upon a nugget -so big he could scarcely carry it, and dared not bring -it in alone. Two or three of the police went back with -him to help him, and he brought it in in triumph, followed -by a procession of diggers. And indeed it <i>was</i> a -nugget. It was about as big as a leg of mutton, and -much the same shape, white lumps of quartz sticking to -it like so much fat. It weighed a hundred and thirty-five -pounds, and he was offered 5,000<i>l.</i> for it on the spot. -He refused to sell it, and took it home to England to -exhibit it. But it proved to be a nugget of expensive -habits, and at last was sold to pay for its keep and -lodging, and the finder ended, as so many finders of -great nuggets ended, in poverty and wretchedness, and -even madness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span></p> - -<p>At Ararat, fifty-six miles beyond Ballarat, the gold-fields -remain just as they were left by the diggers; and -the claims are more in working order and less broken in -than at Ballarat. Ararat is now a thriving township, -containing perhaps 2,000 inhabitants. Twelve years -ago there were 65,000 people there, digging or dealing -with diggers. When the ‘rush’ began the stream of -people and drays was continuous, the noses of each team -of bullocks close to the dray in front of them, for the -whole fifty-six miles, along a track on which, though the -district is a thriving one, you will now hardly meet anything -on wheels once in ten miles. Centuries may pass -without obliterating the traces of these diggings. There -is a broad belt of ground, two or three miles long, -pierced by thousands of shafts thirty or forty feet apart, -with mounds of white sand and gravel beside them. -Most of the shafts are oval, four or five feet long, and -about two or three wide. Little holes are cut alternately -in the nearest pair of opposite sides, to act as -steps for going up and down. Each shaft is neatly and -cleanly cut, and as intact as if freshly made. All are -deserted now; only a few Chinamen remain, laboriously -gathering up the crumbs that are left, and contriving -to live and save money where an Englishman could not -subsist.</p> - -<p>There were comparatively few men, gentle or simple, -in Victoria when gold was first found who did not try -their luck at digging for a greater or less time. Nevertheless, -though so short a time has elapsed, it is hard to -get a true conception of the state of things during the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -height of the gold fever. No two men had the same -experience. One will tell you that nothing could be -more quiet and peaceable and orderly than a concourse -of men upon a newly found gold-field; that property -and life were safe, and every man so eagerly and excitedly -absorbed in his work as scarcely to take his eyes -off it while daylight lasted, and impatient of nothing except -interruption. Another will say he never stirred -after sunset without an open knife in his hand, and will -tell you (no doubt with truth) that hundreds, and even -thousands, disappeared, whether murdered for their gold, -drowned in a swollen creek, or lost and starved in the -bush, no one knew or cared to enquire; for in all that -crowd who would miss a lonely and friendless man? -Not that the police, as far as their scanty numbers permitted, -were otherwise than most efficient. In general -they were on the best of terms with the diggers; and -only in one serious instance, the diggers at Ballarat, -considering themselves aggrieved, made armed resistance -to the authorities. They formed an entrenched -camp and were not dispersed till as many as a hundred -of their number had been killed or severely wounded. -If money came fast, it had to be spent fast too. Actual -famine was with difficulty averted during the first winter. -The country round was drained of supplies; provisions -went up to fabulous prices. The diggers could -not eat their gold; and it cost 100<i>l.</i> a ton to bring up -flour from Melbourne, for the road was a quagmire like -that from Balaklava to Sebastopol, and ninety miles -long instead of seven. The carcases of the dead draught<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -bullocks were alone sufficient to indicate the track to -one if not to two of the senses.</p> - -<p>But it is a mistake to suppose that gold-digging has -been throughout a gambling occupation, offering a few -prizes and many blanks, and pursued only by reckless -men. The big nuggets soon came to an end, and on -the other hand experience was gained, and digging -became in the long run a tolerably certain and steady -occupation, at which a strong man able to bear heat -and cold, wet and fatigue, could in general make a -pretty steady income, though not often a large one. -Many have risen from comparative poverty to great -wealth in Victoria, a few by owning sheep stations, many -by steady devotion to business, some without any real -exertion of body or mind, by the sheer accident of -lucky speculations; but I have never heard of a really -wealthy man who became so by digging for gold. Yet -some have gone on persistently year after year, in New -South Wales, Victoria, and New Zealand, when one -field was worked out travelling to another. For there -was a strong fascination in the freedom and romance of -the life. I have seen the pale face of an overworked -waiter at a large hotel light up with enthusiasm as he -spoke of it. He had left England and come to Australia -ill of consumption, as a last chance to save his -life. Idleness did not mend him, he said, so off he -went with the rest to the diggings. The first day his -limbs would hardly bear him, but each day he got a -little stronger, till at the end of four years he had -saved 700<i>l.</i> and his life. He had been in very different<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -climates—in New South Wales, Victoria, and Otago—but, -strange to say, heat, cold, and wet only helped -to cure him, and he never even caught cold, he said, -as long as he eschewed a house and was faithful to -canvas. Alas! in an unlucky hour he invested his -savings in township land; the place did not succeed, -and in a few weeks his investment was not worth as -many farthings as he had given pounds for it. And -it was too late to begin again.</p> - -<p>It is over now, the wonderful age of gold, as well -as the primitive pastoral age which preceded it. In -place of diggers swarming like bees, dignified steam-engines -draw the gold from the earth, not for those -who toil with pick and spade, but chiefly for that throng -of mining brokers, and idle, disreputable speculators -who crowd the pavement of the Ballarat ‘Corner.’ -Few make money by investing in mines. Of those -who do, most have secret information; for there is -much trickery mixed up with operations in mining -shares, and hundreds have lost by them the savings -of more prosperous times. Victoria is no longer the -place for men with few possessions beyond youth and -energy, and with an antipathy to a high stool in a merchant’s -office. Let not any brilliant or laborious young -Templar doubt but that Melbourne and Ballarat -solicitors, like English ones, have sons and sons-in-law, -and that there, as at Westminster, interest and connexion -are useful, if not essential, handmaids to brains -and industry. Romance is at an end; capital has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -reasserted its sway, and pride of purse is triumphant. -It needs must be so; and doubtless, on the whole, -mankind gains. But it is difficult to love humanity -in the abstract, and tastes and convictions will quarrel -sometimes.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">SQUATTING IN VICTORIA.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">It</span> sometimes happens that the commonest circumstances -of life in distant countries are scarcely realised -at home because they are too much matter of every-day -experience to be spoken about. I doubt whether -people in England appreciate the fact that the greater -part of Australia is, in its natural state, for eight or nine -months in the year almost entirely destitute of water. -To a new comer it sounds strange to hear an up-country -Squatter remark that he has no water on his run yet, -but he hopes he soon shall have. Although more rain -falls in Victoria than in most parts of England during -the year, there are hardly any springs, and few streams -except the large rivers, which are few and far between, -which run for any considerable portion of the year. -Why the rain runs off so fast is not thoroughly explained, -but its seems there is an incrustation of the -subsoil which prevents the rain from penetrating to any -depth. The creeks, as they are called, leave water-holes, -some of which never dry up through the summer; -but these, also, are far between; and so generally -the first business of a Squatter in new country is to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> -construct tanks to receive the rain-water from the roofs -of his house and outbuildings, which is his drinking-water, -and very good water it is; and the second is -to build a dam from six to twenty feet high across the -nearest hollow—for almost every hollow is a water-course -after heavy rain—and in this way to make a -reservoir containing water enough for his sheep to -drink all the year round, and be washed in at shearing -time. A dam is as much an essential appendage to a -station as a barn is to a farmyard.</p> - -<p>Probably it is this absence of moisture in the ground, -and consequently in the air also, which makes distant -objects in Victoria so marvellously clear, and gives such -peculiarly brilliant colour to the landscape where the -conformation of the ground admits of a distant view. I -never saw such brilliant colouring anywhere in Europe. -It is the one redeeming feature, without which the -scenery, except in the mountainous districts, would be -tame and dreary enough. The country is seldom undulating, -as in Tasmania. The trees are generally small, -stunted, and diseased, except on the ranges; the plains -are almost destitute of any trees at all, and vegetation -is scanty, except in early spring-time. There is a great -plain extending for nearly a hundred miles westward of -Geelong almost without a break, so flat and (unlike the -fen country in England) so destitute of trees or other -objects high enough to break the line of the horizon, -that at the height of a dozen feet from the ground you -may any day see a hill—and not a high hill either—full -forty-five miles distant as the crow flies, looking not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -dim and misty, but a clearly defined blue patch upon -the horizon.</p> - -<p>To most people there is something intolerably desolate -and repulsive in such a plain. Even to those who -are most fond of open country it must be depressing -under certain circumstances, notably during a rainy -fortnight in winter, or on a hot-wind day in summer. -But there is something indescribably grand and enjoyable -in the continual contemplation of so vast a landscape. -When the sun is high it is an expanse of turf, -green in winter and brown in summer; but as the afternoon -advances, earth and sky become faintly purple, -and crimson, and golden; the colours deepen from half-hour -to half-hour, till the sun sinks into its bed of turf -in a gorgeous blaze of splendour. There are several -shallow lakes upon the plain, some very large, and most -of them salt. Coming suddenly upon one of them one -evening from behind some little sand-hills which concealed -it, the margin for some hundred yards in width -dry and coated with mud and brine, no human being or -habitation visible, and the full brilliance of the setting -sun lighting it up, the scene was (except for the -absence of mountains in the distance) singularly -like the landscape in Holman Hunt’s picture of the -‘Scape-Goat.’ It is a pity that this kind of scenery is -spoiled by cultivation. Cut up into little pieces, a plain -loses its vastness, while its monotony is increased.</p> - -<p>It is a pleasant life to have a station up the country -(but not too far up), at least for a man not over gregarious -in his habits and tastes, and whose mind is not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span> -set on those pleasures of town life which seem to possess -the greatest attractions for the majority of mankind. -It may be ten or twenty miles to the next station, or -nearest doctor, or post-office, or church: and the owner -of the next station may happen to be illiterate and uncongenial, -the doctor generally intoxicated when sent -for, and the post-mistress so lonely and dull that it is a -necessity to her, poor thing! to read your letters and -communicate their contents to her friends. But nobody -thinks much of distance; there are plenty of horses, -good or bad, and by going a little further afield you -may be better suited. Then people journeying up the -country drop in occasionally for a dinner and a night’s -lodging. If the visitor is at all presentable he is entertained -with the best the house affords. If he is a stock -driver, or shepherd, or labourer, he is entertained at the -overseer’s or the men’s hut. There are rather too many -such visitors sometimes; nobody is ever turned away, -and there are idle fellows pretending to be in search of -work and refusing it when it is offered them, who go -from station to station living upon the Squatters. The -house is generally comfortable enough nowadays, -usually built partly of bluestone, partly of wooden -slabs, and with only a ground floor, a single sitting-room, -and a great deal of broad verandah, which answers the -purpose of a sitting-room in fine weather. People are -beginning to take pains with their gardens, and there -is generally a fair supply of vegetables to help down the -mutton. There is always good bread, and damper has -long since vanished from civilised regions. Near the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -house is the overseer’s cottage, and a little way off is -the men’s hut. The latter is usually only a log hut, -made of boards; it contains two rooms, a day-room -and a dormitory, and looks comfortless enough. The -furniture is a bench or two, a table, and perhaps a -wooden arm-chair; and in the dormitory the only beds -are wooden bunks, like ships’ berths, built against the -wall in two tiers. The unmarried men about the -station live here, perhaps half a dozen in all. The -head of the establishment is the cook, whose business -it is to keep the hut and prepare the food. In the old, -rough days he needed to be a man able to hold his own -and preserve discipline, and if necessary to prove himself -the better man against anyone who complained of -the dinner. He is generally butcher and baker to the -whole station. At a short distance off is the wool-shed, -the most important and imposing building of all, where -the sheep are shorn and the wool packed. And there -are a few outlying shepherd’s huts, each with its hut-keeper -(unless the shepherd is married), whose only -business is to cook and keep house for the shepherd, and -occasionally lend a hand with the sheep pens. They all -get good wages. The shepherds get from 40<i>l.</i> to 50<i>l.</i> -a year, and the hutkeepers from 30<i>l.</i> to 40<i>l.</i>, and they -get a sheep a week between two, and the other usual -rations. Strange to say, the men do not seem to care -for vegetables, and seldom take the trouble to make a -garden, though they might have as much garden ground -as they liked for nothing.</p> - -<p>There is not often very much to do except for two or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -three weeks at shearing time, when everything is once -fairly set going. The toils and pleasures of stock-riding -on cattle stations, of which we read in <i>Geoffrey Hamlyn</i>, -are almost at an end in Victoria. For, alas! it is found -more economical to divide the runs into paddocks by -wire fences, and so to employ fewer shepherds or stock -riders. And so, though you can see the place you want -to ride to, or at any rate know in which direction to go, -you must ask your way among the fences almost as if -they were rows of houses. The black-fellows, and the -wild dogs, and (except in thickly-wooded districts, where -they are as numerous as ever) even the kangaroos are -gone, which is an unmixed advantage for the Squatter, -if not for idle and inquisitive friends who stay with him. -Near a forest you may see scudding about little white -clouds, which, on closer inspection, are discovered to be -composed of white cockatoos; but their sentinel is generally -too wary to let you get within shot, though you -may get near enough to see them put up their yellow -crests in disgust. Of sport there is not often much to -be had. There may be some rabbits or some quail. On -the plains there are sometimes bustards, commonly called -wild turkeys, and you may get a shot at one with a rifle -now and then, especially if you <i>drive</i> after them, instead -of walking or riding, for they do not expect hostilities -from anything on wheels. Opossums are killed by thousands -for their skins, generally by hunting them up trees -after dark and shooting them there. But there is no sport -to be got out of them; one might as well shoot a lamb, -albeit indignant with them for scampering about the roof<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -all night. I saw a large brown one one day looking at me -from a bough about ten feet off, apparently only waiting -for an introduction to offer me his paw to shake. I -tossed a bit of clay on to his back to make him move. He -only moved a yard higher up, and taking hold with one -paw of a bough of the next tree, looked down with a -countenance of mild reproof, as if meekly and generously -affording me the opportunity to apologize before unwillingly -quitting my society.</p> - -<p>But a station is no bed of roses for a Squatter’s wife. -Servants are difficult to get and to keep up the country, -and especially when there are young children there is -a good deal of work to be done by somebody. Then -perhaps the shepherds’ wives will not condescend to do -any washing, and there is no one else to do it. What -with hot winds, hard work, solitude and anxiety, a wife -transplanted from English luxury to the bush has a -hard life of it, and too soon begins to look old and -worn. It is almost impossible for her to get any -attention paid to the little luxuries and prettinesses -of life. Perhaps the cook persists in throwing the -sheep’s bones into a great heap just outside the garden -gate; or nobody can be spared to bury the cow that -died in the home paddock, and her white skeleton -has been lying there for months. To be sure, a hot -wind is an effectual deodoriser, and there is only the -look of the thing to be considered; but that is something, -and I don’t know anything that strikes a person -fresh from home more than the number of carcases he -sees by the roadside everywhere.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span></p> - -<p>The Squatter party has been for some years powerless -in the Legislature. No Squatter has much chance -of being elected for the House of Assembly, and is -derisively <i>bleated</i> at on the hustings if he offers himself -as a candidate. Even in England I observe that a -writer speaks contemptuously about their ‘great ideal’ -being to ‘cover the continent with sheep-walks.’ -Surely, as regards all but a small proportion of the -continent, this has been, and for some years to come -will be, the ideal of every reasonable person, whether -Squatter or not.</p> - -<p>What else is to be done with the soil? Somewhere -about 300,000 acres, which collected together -would be equivalent in extent to a block of land a -little more than twenty-one miles square, ought surely -to grow enough wheat to feed the whole population of -Victoria. For a quarter of wheat for each head of -population, which is, I believe, the ordinary allowance -in England, is probably much more than is consumed -in Australia, where meat is eaten in abundance by the -labouring classes. And eighteen bushels to the acre is -about the average in Tasmania, where there is certainly -no superabundance of capital or skill employed in -farming; if Victoria cannot farm as well as that, it had -better import its corn. Something must of course be -added for other crops, but this amounts to comparatively -little, for wheat may on most of the land be grown -year after year without any rotation of crops, and with -the help of subsoil ploughing without any present -prospect of exhaustion. It must be remembered that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -meat is in England chiefly a product of agriculture, -whereas in Australia it is a pastoral product. There -would be no use in growing turnips or mangold (even -if the climate admitted of it, which I believe it does -not) in a country where there is no winter, and where -stock will fatten on pasture alone. In South Australia -large quantities of wheat have been grown for exportation -chiefly to the other colonies, and also in one or two -years to England. But in Victoria, till inland communication -is very much more developed, there is no -probability of its being exported to any extent; indeed -I never heard of its being even suggested.</p> - -<p>But even if this rough estimate be altogether too -small, suppose that a million acres, equivalent in extent -to a tract of country nearly forty miles square, or even -double that quantity, were required, it would still be -but a small portion of the area of Victoria. And -Victoria is by far the most thickly inhabited colony. -Its population is in the ratio of about seven to the -square mile. As for the rest of the continent—which -the Squatters are found fault with for wishing to -‘cover with sheep-walks’—New South Wales contains -nearly a square mile for every inhabitant, and South -Australia about two and a half square miles. In -England and Wales there is less than two <i>acres</i>. In -speaking of the Squatters, it is only fair to remember -that the colony owes its origin and existence simply -and solely to them. It was they who opened up the -country and made it habitable. In their hands the -land, if it does not produce much, steadily improves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -in quality. No doubt at first they got the use of it for -a merely nominal payment, but nobody else wanted it -at any price, and so they paid the market value. As -it become more valuable, this payment was from time -to time increased. Occasionally their stations were -sold, and they had the power, if they had the means, -of purchasing them and becoming the absolute owners -of what they had hitherto held on an uncertain tenure. -If they had not the means, they had to submit to be -turned out. All this was fair enough. Where land -is plentiful enough, everyone should have the opportunity -of purchasing it. It may be that at one time -it was put up too slowly for the requirements of the -growing population; but if so, the reaction was extreme. -A cry was got up and fostered for party purposes that -everybody ought to be a landowner; placards were -posted along every road, stump orators vociferated, and -there was a mania for getting land. From that time -legislation has been unfairly directed against them. -Instead of the simple plan of putting up Crown land -in small blocks to the highest bidder, which in the -long run would have ensured its getting into the hands -of the man who would get the most out of it, elaborate -Land Acts have been passed, drawn with the intention -of preventing the Squatter from purchasing land at -any price, even on his own run, and of parcelling his -run out to different purchasers without any regard to -his rights of previous occupation.</p> - -<p>Shortly, the procedure is as follows. The district is -surveyed, and blocks of a square mile each (640 acres)<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -mapped out. Notice is given that the blocks will be -put up, and numbers apply for them, the applicants -hoping, if they are lucky enough to get one, to make -a good bargain of it somehow, though they may not -have a shilling of capital to farm it with. Amongst -the rest, the Squatter on whose run the blocks are of -course applies; and as amongst so many applicants his -chance is small, he often increases it by engaging any -one he can to make application ostensibly on his own -account, but in fact as dummy for <i>him</i>, and with a view -to his transfer of his interest to him should he obtain -a selection. A ballot takes place on the appointed day, -and the successful applicants select each his block. -The Selector (or ‘Cockatoo,’ as he is nicknamed) thereupon -obtains a seven years’ lease of his 640 acres on -the following terms. He is to pay a rent of one shilling -per acre every half-year, in advance, to expend on -improvements not less than 1<i>l.</i> per acre within three -years, and to build a habitation on the land, and reside -on it during his tenancy. He also covenants not to -alienate. If he has fulfilled these conditions, he has -the option of purchasing the freehold at the end of three -years at 1<i>l.</i> per acre. If he does so, therefore, he will -have expended altogether 1,472<i>l.</i> besides what his -stock, &c., may have cost him.</p> - -<p>Clearly, therefore, a Selector without any capital is -practically a man ‘without ostensible means of subsistence.’ -Yet the chance of the ballot brings many -such, and how are they to live, except by stealing the -Squatter’s sheep and preying upon him in various petty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -ways? Often a Selector may be a former servant of his -discharged for misconduct, who now has ample means -of revenge. These additional annoyances are often -worse than the original one of being deprived of large -portions taken out of the midst of his best pasture. -But in any case he is put to the expense of fencing in -the new comer, or else letting his stock stray and feed -all over the run. This alone costs about 55<i>l.</i> a mile, or -220<i>l.</i> for each selected block. And so he is often driven -to throw up his run altogether, or to endeavour to -evade the Act and buy out the Selector at all hazards. -And the hazards are very great, for by the terms of -his lease the Selector is interdicted from alienating his -interest in his land, so that any bargain he may make to -do so is legally void; and thus, if he happens to be a -rogue, he may take the price of his block from the -Squatter, and at the end of the three years refuse to -give up the land to him, and snap his fingers at him. -And even if the Selector who sells be an honest man -and anxious to carry out the bargain fairly, the Squatter -still runs a great risk; for though he can perform the -requisite conditions of paying the rent and expending -the 1<i>l.</i> per acre in improvements (probably a sheer -waste of money to him) he cannot fulfil the other condition -of residing on the block itself—for he cannot -live in two or three places at once—and must trust to -the forbearance of the government inspector to overlook -this non-performance, otherwise the lease and the -title at the end of the three years will be forfeited and -his whole expenditure thrown away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span></p> - -<p>And so, as time goes on, the Squatter of moderate -means is being (prematurely and needlessly, as it seems) -‘civilised’ off the face of Victoria. Large blocks of -land have been bought up by a few of the more fortunate -among them, and more often by rich merchants -or speculators from the towns. Politically, as well as -socially, it may well be doubted whether it is not a -change for the worse. The old-fashioned Squatters -were many of them sons of English gentlemen, with -less wealth but with more education, knowledge of the -world, and refinement, than those who are supplanting -them, and they fell naturally into a position and duties -in some degree resembling those of country gentlemen -at home. As for the ‘Cockatoos,’ they have little, if -anything, to be grateful for to their patrons. They have -been tempted to embark in an undertaking in which -three out of four have small chance of succeeding -honestly. It is only in the neighbourhood of towns and -markets that they are likely to do well. Already, -though the last Act has hardly been three years in -operation, a deputation of them has been to the government, -declaring their inability to pay their purchase-money -and petitioning for an abatement.</p> - -<p>I am very far from pretending to possess a complete -knowledge and understanding of the land-questions and -the land-laws in Victoria. But the present system -seems so patently and obviously bad that he who runs -may read that it is so. The possibility of obtaining -land by the chance of the ballot is unsettling and demoralising, -just as in a greater degree a public lottery<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -is. Its tendency is to hand over the soil, not to -skilled and thrifty agriculturists, but to speculators or -to idle men who have failed at other trades, and who -try their luck at the ballot on the chance of making a -good bargain somehow or other if they draw a lucky -number. The blocks are so large, require so much -capital, and are often at such a distance from a -market, that they are quite unsuitable for a peasant -agriculturist, who can seldom obtain any labour but -his own and that of his children. The discretionary -power, which in certain cases is vested in the Executive, -of selling or not selling land on particular runs, gives -it an immense and undue influence, and is liable to -lead, as experience has shown, to gross corruption -amongst members of the Assembly and others who have -influence with the Ministers for the time being. -Eventually the system will, it is believed, after great -waste of labour, and after ruining a number of Squatters, -throw the land into the hands of the monster -capitalists far more certainly than if a much less extent, -favourably situated, had been put up to auction in much -smaller blocks. In the meantime, the class of agriculturists, -or quasi-agriculturists, has been artificially increased -so as to be out of proportion to the rest of the -population. And as one political fault, unrepented of, -soon necessitates another, a protective duty on corn -has been imposed, which helps, as far as it goes, to prop -up the land laws.</p> - -<p>But neither Protection nor an artificial land system -will do the agriculturists much good in the end, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -even if a clause could be introduced and enforced -obliging everybody to eat two quarters of wheat a year -instead of one. A few good big ships full of immigrants -do more for them than all the land laws in the -world. For what they want is more mouths for them -to feed. And in the long run new mouths will go -most to countries where, <i>cæteris paribus</i>, industry and -labour are left, not only unfettered but unpampered, -to find their own level in their own way.</p> - -<p>The present land laws savour of unjust class legislation, -of tyranny of the majority over the minority. -Yet so little confidence is placed in the present Legislative -Assembly, that it is expected that any change -which may be made will be for the worse. Democracy -has made a bad beginning in Australia. At this rate, -what with bad legislation and the far worse and more -fatal vice of corruption, it will be well if the word ‘democracy’ -does not in course of time earn for itself in -this part of the world a <i>special</i> sense as derogatory as -that which the word ‘tyranny’ did in Greece of old.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">POLITICS IN VICTORIA.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Strange</span> to say, it is a fact notorious in Victoria that -a proportion of the Legislative Assembly, sufficient to -sway its vote on almost any measure that may be introduced, -is altogether corrupt and amenable to bribes! -How long this has been so I know not, or how long it -has been a matter of notoriety; but attention has been -particularly drawn in this direction lately by the scandalous -disclosures made in the case of <i>Sands</i> v. <i>Armstrong</i>, -which was tried in May. The plaintiff was a -member of the Assembly, against whom charges were -made in a local paper of so serious a nature that he was -compelled to bring an action for libel, to endeavour to -re-establish his character. The trial lasted several days, -and resulted in a verdict of a farthing damages—practically, -of course, a verdict for the defendant—as -nearly all the charges against the plaintiff were fully -made out. The following extracts from a leading -article in the <i>Argus</i> of May 6, 1867, describe his -operations:—</p> - -<p class="smaller p1 b1">For years past there has been a prevalent belief that rank -jobbery and corruption infested our governing system, and from -time to time circumstances came to light which confirmed and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -strengthened this belief. But outside political circles the facts -were not known with certainty, while as to the extent of the -evil the general public could not even form a guess. At last -we have got at the truth, so far as concerns the operations of -one honourable member. For the first time the veil has been -completely lifted, and the life of a jobbing legislator fully -exposed to view. And the reality is immeasurably worse -than any but the initiated could have imagined. Scheme and -trick and dodge are proved to have been the constant practice -of the person whose conduct has been investigated, his public -position a mere agency by which he could work out, by means -of wholesale corruption, sordid plans of personal aggrandizement.... -Using his influence with the Government, and -pretending to greater influence than we are willing to believe -they ever permitted him to exercise, he seems to have meddled -in every kind of public business transacted in his locality, and -turned it to account for his own pecuniary gain. Nothing -was above—nothing beneath him. If a poor labouring man -wanted a bit of land under the 42nd Clause, it was ten shillings -to Sands; if there was a returning officer to be appointed, -that was an affair of 30<i>l.</i> if it could be managed. Circumstances -rendered one piece of local preferment particularly desirable -during the currency of his operations, by reason of its great -profitableness, and that he apparently tried to keep in his own -hands altogether, appointing a dummy official representative -(though on this part of the case the evidence is necessarily -incomplete, the only persons fully cognizant of the facts having -been accomplices in the transaction). But there is no doubt -of his having professed to be able to influence the administration -of the law.... Is the Attorney-General to be worked -by such as Sands? No one will for a moment believe so; but -his claiming to possess such influence shows how hardened he -had become through long immunity from exposure and punishment.... -He has a newspaper, and he has also a public-house, -both of which seem to have served as tolls for the collection -of corruption-money. But in aid of these he established an -agency far more efficient than either. This was in the form<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -of a testimonial to himself, and the subscription lists being -kept open for a year and a half were a constant appeal to the -generosity of all who had anything to gain from the favour of -the Government or to fear from its displeasure.</p> - -<p>If the case of Sands had been a solitary and exceptional -one, it would not have called for remark. But -his course of conduct seems to have been singular chiefly -in having been found out. Opinions differ slightly -as to the number of Members, who, if not quite as bad -as Sands, nevertheless lay themselves out for bribes outside -the House, and are ready to sell their votes in the -House for a sufficient consideration. The <i>Argus</i> (if I -recollect right) reckons about ten or twelve. But nobody, -except a Member or two in a parliamentary and -perfunctory way in the House, seriously attempts to -deny the existence of such a set, most of whom are as -notorious as if they occupied a special bench to themselves. -Nevertheless, I was surprised to hear a well -informed and moderate man, not specially connected -with politics, express his opinion that almost any measure -might be carried through the House for the sum of -15,000<i>l.</i> judiciously expended in bribes. I repeated this -with some hesitation, lest he should be sensitive to -such a reflection on his colleagues, to a Member. He -answered by coolly counting up the purchasable Members -on his fingers, and concluded that it could be done -for a less sum, remarking that a clever, unscrupulous -man, possessing great wealth and popular manners, -might obtain almost unlimited power in the Assembly. -Nor is the blame of this disgraceful state of things to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -be laid specially to the charge of the present Ministry. -They have indeed been content to let things go on in -the old groove, and in the matter of the Sands scandal -have not appeared very anxious to promote an investigation. -But their personal integrity, and, on the whole, -their ability, is well spoken of by men of all parties. -Even the Opposition, opposed as it is to their ultra-democratic -and protectionist policy, confess that their -places could not well be supplied, should they have to -quit office, and that a change is more likely to be for -the worse than for the better.</p> - -<p>Jobbing in Government patronage is one source of -corruption. Under the O’Shanassy Government (in -some respects considered to have been one of the best) -it is said to have been almost impossible for any but -Irish and Roman Catholics to obtain any place. Even -the porters on the railways completed at that time are -Irish almost to a man. But this is comparatively a -small matter. It is the Lands Office which is the focus -of corruption, and it is the unsettled state of the land -laws and regulations which affords such opportunities -for roguery. For instance, under a clause of the Land -Act of 1865, any person residing near the gold-fields -may, subject to the sanction of the Lands Office, select -and purchase, at a fixed price, any portion of Crown -land within a certain distance, not exceeding a certain -quantity. This clause the Minister of Lands has seen -fit to extend to Crown lands (which are in general -Squatters’ runs) at any distance from the gold-fields—in -fact, almost anywhere. Other clauses leave a somewhat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -similar discretion with the Minister. Thus, he -continually has in his own hands the power of selling -or refusing to sell Crown land, and practically he -generally gives or withholds his sanction in each -instance according to the recommendation of the -Member for the district, or, if this Member happens -not to be a supporter of the Government, of some -other who is. Thus, a Squatter may sometimes be -deprived of a block of land in the middle of his run, -if he prove troublesome to a Government candidate. -It is unnecessary to point out what a temptation this -offers to a needy Member, and how it almost forces -the Squatter to illegal practices for his own protection. -I once heard a Squatter, an honourable and much -respected man, say that, wanting to purchase a part -of his own run which was Crown land, he had sent -orders to a land agent at Melbourne to apply for it -for him, and that his instructions were to obtain it, -if possible without, but if not possible by, the help -of <i>parliamentary influence</i>. I innocently asked him -what parliamentary influence meant. He answered -simply that it meant a fee of 5<i>l.</i> to one or more members -to urge and support the application.</p> - -<p>People seem to resign themselves to the existence of -a corrupt House of Assembly as to a necessary evil, -a thing inevitable. I have heard the free-trade party -blamed for not <i>buying</i>, as it is said they easily might -have done, sufficient support to enable them to establish -their policy. Such an opinion sounds horrible enough -in the mouth of an honourable man. It reminds one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -of the purchase of the Irish Parliament in 1800, which -few will say was not necessary to be done, and which -was done by honest men, though it would puzzle a -casuist to justify it. The judge who tried the case of -<i>Sands</i> v. <i>Armstrong</i>, in his summing-up declared that -the evidence had made him a convert to the proposal of -payment of Members, for that, as they gained no credit -or social distinction by their membership, they expected -a pecuniary consideration for their trouble, and it was -better for them to get it honestly and above-board -than dishonestly. The House, it seems, thinks so too, -for by a majority of 22 to 10, the other day, they -patriotically voted that they ought to be paid. The -Council will probably throw out the Bill, for it may be -doubted whether a moderate salary would suffice to -induce a rogue even to confine his rogueries within the -bounds of decency.</p> - -<p>These things being so in Victoria, and being no -secret, but in every man’s mouth, it is not a little -humiliating to find the peculiar institutions under which -such abuses thrive, held up, in a volume of <i>Essays on -Reform</i>, apparently as a pattern by which England may -profit in remodelling her own. I have neither space -nor inclination to examine the essay in detail. The -account which it gives of Australian prosperity is, no -doubt, true enough. Indeed, as regards Victoria, nobody -need be otherwise than sanguine about the -ultimate prospects of a colony of such extraordinary -natural wealth. It will require very bad legislation, -and a very bad legislature indeed, to inflict any irretrievable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -blow on its material prosperity. The Council -is as yet sound, and works well. Above all, the Bench -is excellently filled. It is true that there are many -unrefined and wholly uneducated persons in the -wealthiest class; the largest proprietor (in fee) of land -in Australia, and probably in the world, was once a -retail butcher. But this will right itself by degrees. -And, on the other hand, the lowest class in Victoria is -decidedly superior in energy and intelligence to the -same class in England, as is to be expected of the first -generation of colonists who have come out each of his -own individual will, and not forced in a promiscuous -mass by any political convulsion. It is a pleasure to -see a man breaking stones on the road, he does it with -such vigour, and one knows he is earning thereby about -five shillings a day, and not only a pittance at the -workhouse. Victorian society is like English, with a -thick slice cut off the top and a thin slice off the bottom. -There is, perhaps, more to be said for universal suffrage -in Victoria than in most countries.</p> - -<p>But admitting all this, the utmost that the writer -of this essay has proved by it is that these colonies -have not been retarded in their growth by their peculiar -institutions. He does indeed contrast the excellent -judges of the present time with a drunken Judge-Advocate -under Governor Bligh. But in those days -New South Wales had scarcely ceased to be anything -more than a huge prison, and he might as well compare -a judge of the Court of Queen’s Bench to an Old -Bailey practitioner. The press of the present time,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -no doubt, is superior to that of fifteen or twenty years -ago. So is the press of London to that of Birmingham -or Dublin; but is that because London has a better -political constitution than they have, or because it has -many times their population, and is able to demand and -pay for better and more expensively conducted publications? -As to public expenditure, it is idle to compare -old and burdened countries with new ones in this -respect, but is it so great a triumph for a Legislature -which entered upon its labours with no debt, no foreign -ministers, no pauperism, almost no military or naval -expenses, no possibility of war, a population extraordinarily -wealthy, and millions of acres of land to sell when -it pleased, not to have exceeded its income (though in -Victoria the Government has fallen back on Protection -for revenue), while England, with more than a third of -her revenue going to pay interest of debt, with the -pauperism of an overcrowded country, and with foreign -war constantly threatening, has yet managed, however -little, to continue paying off her debt?</p> - -<p>Nobody disputes the desirability of representative -institutions for colonies which have reached a certain -stage of development. The point is whether they have -worked the better in Australia for being so democratic, -and this the essay scarcely even attempts to prove. -Still less does it prove that such institutions, even if -they are the best it was practicable to obtain for Australia, -would be equally applicable under utterly different -circumstances in England. With respect to the -glaring evils I have alluded to, the writer may perhaps<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -agree with the author of another essay in the same -volume, that corruption in the Legislature is, ‘except -in extreme cases,’ merely ‘an annoying and offensive, -and not a dangerous disease.’ This is the old cry of -‘measures, not men,’ revived. For my own part, I -believe that the tardiest and feeblest legislation is far -less pregnant with fatal consequences than the habitual -contemplation of dishonesty in high places and amongst -public men. This is an ever-present pattern and incentive -to evil, which, entering every household, offers -its drop of poison to every ambitious and aspiring man, -and slowly and imperceptibly brings all that is sterling -and honourable into disrepute.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">TASMANIA.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">The</span> heat, and drought, and dust of summer begin to -make Melbourne unpleasant by December. In Sydney -and Adelaide it is hotter still, and in Queensland there -is almost as great heat as in India, without all the -elaborate Indian appliances and luxuries for making -it bearable. Christmas holidays and lawyers’ Long -Vacation are just beginning. Hence there is a considerable -migration about this time of year of Australians -on the mainland who may be ailing or wanting -a holiday, to the cool fresh air of Tasmania; and well -filled steamers go about twice a week from Melbourne -to either Launceston or Hobart Town, and once a fortnight -from Sydney.</p> - -<p>Our long narrow vessel, crowded with passengers -and incommoded with an unpleasant deck-cargo of -two or three hundred sheep, which makes her roll like -a porpoise, steams swiftly away from Melbourne down -the dirty sluggish Yarra-Yarra, between flat marshy -banks, more malodoriferous than the worst parts of the -Thames in its worst days. By sunset we are out of -Port Phillip and in Bass’s Straits. Next morning we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -pass high jagged rocky islands, rising abruptly and -precipitously out of deep water; then through Banks’s -Straits, which seem to be a funnel for collecting the -wind, for it is almost always blowing hard there from -the west; and in the afternoon we glide suddenly out -of the rough water into the serenest and calmest of -seas, protected from the fierce westerly winds by Tasmania, -the east coast of which lies a few miles off to -starboard, a pretty peaceful shelving shore, with bold -mountains rising up in the distance. Another night -at sea, and we wake up at daylight as the vessel is -rounding the fine precipitous headlands of Cape Pillar -and Cape Raoul, with basaltic columns like those in the -cliffs of the Giant’s Causeway, and is entering Storm -Bay with its wooded islands, narrow-necked peninsulas, -and deep inlets running far into the country, till the -eye is puzzled to discern where our course will be, and -to distinguish island from coast. Two hours more and -the estuary of the Derwent is reached, broad, but as -we proceed wholly land-locked by hilly shores, rising -gently from the water’s edge, and green with cultivation -near their base, their summits dark with trees -and half-cleared bush. I can think of nothing to compare -it with unless it be the Lake of Thun without its -snow mountains, or the Dart at its widest near Dartmouth; -but both are bad comparisons. Soon after, -the dark blue-grey wooded mass of Mount Wellington -faces us, rising up four thousand feet and more; and -on the sloping shores of the little bay below it lies -Hobart Town, with wharves along the water’s edge,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -and water deep enough for a man-of-war within two -hundred yards of the shore. Sea, river, mountain, -forest, farm, and city, are before the eye almost at -once. It is the most beautiful spot for a city I ever -saw in the world.</p> - -<p>The steamer comes alongside a deserted looking -wharf, occupied only by two or three drays and carriages, -and a knot or two of lounging, ill-conditioned -porters; and with the picture of busy, thriving, restless, -eager Melbourne fresh upon our minds, we land, to -find ourselves in what looks like a pleasant, neat, old-fashioned -English country town, perhaps twice as large -and straggling as Dorchester, Ipswich, or Bury, but -ten times more stagnant, dull, and lifeless. A greater -contrast in every way to Melbourne could hardly be -conceived. At Melbourne most people seem to be -there only for business, that they may accumulate and -save money and retire with it to England. Of Hobart -Town the most conspicuous and characteristic feature -is the number of small, quiet, comfortable houses in -small, pretty, gay gardens, such as men with incomes -of from 300<i>l.</i> to 800<i>l.</i> might inhabit, and which look -like the abodes of retired sea-captains, merchants, or -tradesmen. The House of Assembly and Custom-house, -the Post-office, and other public offices, are -very well placed in a central position not far from -the wharves—handsome, stone-faced, neatly-finished -buildings, free from attempts at florid ornamentation, -and though small and unpretending, more appropriate, -and in better taste, than many of the public buildings of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -Melbourne or Sydney. They were planned and begun, -most of them, in the days when there was any amount -of convict labour available, and have been finished -since, at heavy cost owing to the dearness of labour, -by the help of loans, the interest of which presses somewhat -heavily on the colony. But so seldom is anyone -to be seen passing in or out of them, that one doubts -at first sight whether they can be in use.</p> - -<p>The streets are almost empty. Nobody looks busy. -Nobody is in a hurry. Converse with anyone about -the state of the Colony, and the word <i>depression</i> is one -of the first you hear, and it will come over and over -again till you are weary of it. Different people mean -different things by it, and feel the tendency from prosperity -to adversity in different ways, but few or none -dispute the fact. Elderly ladies lament the old days -when there was more society, and a more abundant -supply of soldier and sailor ball-partners; merchants -and tradesmen the time when Hobart Town promised -to be the emporium if not the metropolis of Australia. -It is seldom indeed that anyone can be heard to speak -cheerily of the present, or hopefully of the future of -Tasmania. Nor is the colony suffering merely from -one of those temporary checks in the advance of prosperity, -which always occur from time to time in young -colonies,—such as, for instance, the wide-spread ruin -in Queensland, which was mainly, and so strangely, -caused by the commercial panic in London, and which -is already passing away. Tasmania (or Van Diemen’s -Land, as it was originally called—the name was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -changed to efface, if possible, the very memory of its -identity and existence as a convict colony) is the oldest -next to New South Wales of the Australian colonies, -and till twenty or twenty-five years ago was still, next -to it, the most important. Now it is thrown completely -into the shade by Victoria, South Australia, and even -by Queensland. For the last fifteen years the revenue, -the trade, the shipping, and the general prosperity -and enterprise of the colony have been steadily -decreasing. And although the population has increased, -the increase has been due solely to the excess -of births over deaths, and not at all to immigration—the -number of persons who have left the colony -during this period being considerably in excess of those -who have arrived in it, in spite of very large sums -spent out of the public money on immigration—and -hence the population of adults has remained nearly -stationary, while only that of old people and children -has increased. A settler of twenty or thirty years’ -standing, especially in the southern part of the island, -can perhaps point to only one or two houses in his -township which have been built since he came.</p> - -<p>It is not difficult to account for this state of things. -Wool first, and then gold have been the two principal -causes of prosperity in Australia. Of gold there is -not sufficient quantity in Tasmania to pay for working -it. Wool it does produce according to its capabilities; -but it must not be forgotten that the island is comparatively -small (roughly, about as big as Ireland), -that much of it is thickly timbered or for other reasons<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -useless, and only a small proportion available for pasture. -What there is has been almost all taken up and -made the most of, for nearly thirty years past. And -so mere excess of numbers drove men, and young men -especially, away from Tasmania, to become Squatters -in Victoria, and in younger colonies where there was -more room for them. For the most profitable sheep-farming, -according to the present system and condition -of things, is that which is done on a large scale. Ten -thousand acres is a very small station. I have heard -of as much as seven hundred thousand acres, the size of -a large English county, belonging to one cattle-station -in a remote part of Queensland. It is said that sixty -thousand sheep is about the best and most economical -number for a Squatter to have, that being large enough -and not too large for him to manage, with the assistance -of his overseer and shepherds. And sixty thousand -sheep take a great many acres of the thin thirsty -Australian grass to keep them alive through the -summer droughts.</p> - -<p>It is true that Tasmania with its excellent and temperate -climate is especially suitable for agriculture. -According to the government statistics the average -produce of an acre of wheat is about eighteen bushels. -In England the average is said to be twenty-eight, in -Ireland twenty-four, and in France only fifteen and a -half.<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> And bearing in mind that in a new country the -cheapness of land and dearness of labour and of capital -renders farming almost of necessity slovenly, this may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -be considered a comparatively large yield. But there -are great difficulties in the way of the agriculturist. -Most of the rich chocolate-coloured soil in the north is -very heavily timbered, and requires much labour to -clear it. It is seldom indeed that farming is made remunerative, -even by settlers who have had many years’ -experience, except in the immediate neighbourhood of -a large town. For it must be remembered that the -population of an Australian colony is very small, comparatively, -and its market soon glutted; and that as -the town and manufacturing population is small compared -with the country population, the tendency is -always in the long run rather towards over supply of -agricultural produce, and consequent low prices. Now -and then of course there is a violent reaction; but the -great fluctuation in price is of itself an evil and a difficulty. -The crop that pays best one year may, however -abundant, be a loss the next.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> A farmer needs -something of the judgment and experience of a merchant -and of a speculator to enable him to succeed, as well -as skill to grow good crops. And often capital is -thrown away upon a soil which is too poor to repay -cultivation; for it is difficult to form a correct opinion -of the value of land which has never been cultivated. -One often passes fields which have been abandoned, and -in one place I saw a whole valley left to return into its -original condition of bush.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span></p> - -<p>Tasmania has suffered, too, more perhaps than even -New South Wales, though in a way that is less likely -to be permanent, from the abuse of the convict system. -I say the <i>abuse</i> of it, for looking upon transportation -to Australia as a whole, I find it impossible to avoid -the conclusion that it has been a great and conspicuous -success. But poor Tasmania was very hardly treated. -In 1840—rashly and needlessly as Lord Grey thought<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>—transportation -to New South Wales was suddenly -stopped, and the whole stream turned on the unfortunate -island. For many years after this the convicts -far outnumbered the free population. In 1845 -there were 25,000 male convicts in the island, and the -country was simply a huge penal settlement without -even sufficient room for expansion, the moral sink and -sewer of England. It is true that in this colony the -convicts were seldom able to marry or leave children, -or settle on the land, as they did in New South Wales, -and that the great majority left the country as soon as -their sentences expired, so that considering the immense -number brought there, the number now remaining is -surprisingly small. It may also be true, as is asserted -(though I hardly believe it), that crime measured by -the number of convictions is now not more frequent -than in England, in proportion to the population. Still -in one way or another they have left a curse behind -them. The settlers were demoralized by the assignment -system, which while it lasted gave them almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -the power of slave-holders. A convict could be hired -for little more than the cost of maintaining him; sometimes -in consideration of leisure allowed him, he even -paid money to his master in addition to his services; -and the master could get him even punished at the -public expense by sending him to the nearest magistrate -with the written message, ‘Please give the bearer -twenty lashes, and return him to yours truly.’</p> - -<p>Free labour, as is always the case, suffered from -contact with forced labour. The convict taught the -free labourer many bad lessons, and one of them was -how to do the least possible amount of work for a day’s -wages. The accepted standard of a day’s work became -a low one. Wages might fall, but such labour was -dear at any price. All this time the Home Government -was spending about half a million annually in the -colony, and was making roads, harbours, and wharves, -on a magnificent scale by convict labour; so that the -cost was not felt in taxation. Government originated -everything, planned everything, paid for everything. -An unhealthy artificial condition of society was produced -which tended to enervate all classes, and left the -colony ill prepared to stand against, or profit by, the -events which followed. In deference to the general -outcry at its gross abuse, transportation was suddenly -stopped, and with it ceased most of the annual half -million from England. At this time Victoria had for -some years past been attracting from Tasmania many -of the most enterprising and adventurous of its population, -but from the moment when the wonderful news of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -the gold came, it seemed as if none would be left behind -but old men, women, and children. Most would indeed -have done better to stay behind and cultivate the land. -For wheat rose till it sold for five to six pounds a -quarter in Melbourne, and hay at from twenty to forty -pounds a ton. A great trade sprang up with Melbourne -in corn, timber, vegetables, and fruit, and there -was a hope that Tasmania would establish itself as -the granary of Victoria. But year by year this trade -has been diminishing, and now American flour and even -American timber undersell Tasmanian in the Melbourne -market. Some fortunes indeed were made in -those years of gold, but they were comparatively few -and small, and those who made them have for the most -part invested them elsewhere, or been content to live -quietly on the interest of the money rather than risk -their capital in doubtful enterprises.</p> - -<p>For there more than elsewhere in Australia—as -much, perhaps, take the whole year round, as anywhere -in the world—do scenery and climate invite retirement -to country life. It is the Capua of the Australias. -Snow scarcely falls except to ornament the summits of -Mount Wellington and of the distant ranges of the -uninhabited and almost unexplored west coast. The -frosts are seldom fatal even to the tenderest plant. -The stifling hot winds of the continent are cooled by a -hundred miles of sea before they reach the island. -Nor is the air stagnant or sultry. Hot as the sun is by -day, the summer nights are cooler than in England. -English trees, flowers, and fruits, flourish with a rare<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -luxuriance, side by side with pines from Norfolk Island -and New Zealand. Geraniums blaze out in huge pink -and scarlet masses, growing in almost wild profusion. -The English sweet-briar has been introduced, and has -spread of itself till in its luxuriance it has become a -noxious weed to the farmers. Fruit follows fruit so -fast under the early summer sun that apples ripen -almost before strawberries are over. It is in such -profusion that it lies rotting on the ground for want -of mouths to eat it. Life is long here, and you -seldom see the pale, thin, dried-up, prematurely old -faces and lean figures of the other colonies, which almost -make one doubt whether the English race was -meant to live in climates such as those of Queensland -and of South Australia. Sometimes indeed it seems as -if the climate were <i>too</i> Capuan, too little compelling to -exertion. Invalids bask in it, rheumatic people find in -it relief from pain, and the consumptive live out the -full tale of their days. But the strong and active seem -to lose something of their vigour, to ride where they -used to walk, to walk where they used to run, to drink -stimulants when they used to eat. Children seem to -grow up less hardy for want of the nipping of the keen -frost and the bitter blast of the English east wind to -compel them to activity and to make repose for half the -year, except by the fire-side, impossible.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">TASMANIA</span> (<i>continued</i>).</p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Circumstances</span> have made Tasmania lean more than -any other of the Australian Colonies towards sober -conservatism in its ideas and its social and political -aspect. Perhaps the youthful ideal of those who are -now middle-aged and influential was generally the -British regimental officer, as he was to be found, some -twenty or thirty years ago, in quarters at Hobart Town, -or retired and occupied with his grant of land up the -country. For in those days there were sometimes a -couple of regiments in the colony, which formed no unimportant -or inconsiderable proportion of its population, -besides a number of government officials in various -capacities. The original landed proprietors were -mostly retired officers of the army or navy, army doctors, -or other government officials, to whom up to about -thirty-five years ago grants of land were made by the -Crown.</p> - -<p>Land was not worth very much then. Ploughing -your field with a sentry keeping guard at one end -of it lest you should be speared by a black fellow -crawling out of the bush, was farming under difficulties: -to say nothing of the probability of having the station<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -cleared out by bushrangers from time to time, and the -chance of being shot, as a precaution against identification, -by men who had already forfeited their lives.</p> - -<p>It is better than any novel to get an old Tasmanian -settler to tell you about those old times, the uproarious, -dare-devil, killing and robbing heroic age of the colony. -The crowning event, the great joke of the time—soon -after which things began to get comparatively peaceable -and prosaic—was the ‘black war,’ as it is ironically -called. This was one of the wildest and most impracticable -schemes ever devised by a really wise man, for -catching the black fellows alive and unhurt and deporting -them to some island where they might be both -harmless and safe. All available soldiers and settlers -were mustered and posted in a continuous line across -the south-eastern corner of the country, which line, -advancing day by day and gradually converging, was -at length to enclose and catch them as in a trap. It -was like sending half a dozen mastiffs to drive rabbits -out of a wood, as almost every one knew beforehand it -would be. Somebody caught (I think) one black man -and a woman, very much by accident, and no more were -even <i>seen</i>. But 30,000<i>l.</i> or 40,000<i>l.</i> had been spent on -the campaign, and when the campaigners sent the bill -home accompanied by a memorial setting out magniloquently -the glorious results attained, John Bull unsuspectingly -paid it, and the colony was so much the richer -for its ‘black war.’</p> - -<p>Very soon after this—but in no sort of way in consequence -of it—the whole race of aborigines came one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -by one and voluntarily gave themselves up to a man -named Robinson, who had acquired an extraordinary -influence over them, and who deserves to be nominated -patron saint of the colony. They were settled on -Flinders Island and kindly treated, but nevertheless -died off fast. The small remnant was afterwards settled -at Oyster Cove, an exquisitely lovely spot on D’Entrecasteaux’ -Channel, where the survivors, now only three -in number, are to be seen.</p> - -<p>The bushrangers too were put down soon after the -black fellows had been removed; and though others -appeared from time to time, they could never escape -capture very long, not having, as escaped convicts had -in New South Wales, any sympathisers among the -settlers; and now for many years past no such thing -as a bushranger has been heard of in Tasmania.</p> - -<p>As the country became safe, land became valuable, -and was sold instead of being granted away, and sheep -and wool brought a certain degree of prosperity. Still -no great amount of wealth was made by the settlers up -the country, and in the towns those who made money -by trade generally migrated with it to Victoria, and -settled there where there was more scope for them, -and the less adventurous built themselves comfortable -houses in or immediately around Hobart Town; so -that the original landowners have not been supplanted -so much as might have been expected, considering the -events and changes which have taken place, by rich -mercantile men or tradesmen; but in the bad times of -late years have either disappeared altogether, leaving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -their places vacant, or continue on the same property, -seldom richer, and often much poorer, than when they -were younger. In the list of magistrates there are -still<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> fifteen who were on the commission before 1835.</p> - -<p>Very many persons have not once left the island -since they came to settle in it, or were born in it. It -is quite a new sensation to live amongst people, comparatively -few of whom, rich or poor, old or young, -have ever seen a railway. The old came before railways -were made anywhere, and both live in a country where -a Bill to make the first has only this week passed the -Legislature.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, with all their conservatism, during the -ten years since the first Parliament under the new -Constitution met, the Government has been changed -seven times, four Parliaments have been elected, and -only three Members of the House of Assembly have -kept their seats during the whole time. The latter -contains a considerable ‘rowdy’ element, which has introduced -a degree of scurrilousness and coarse personal -abuse, astonishing to decorous English ears, into -hustings speeches and occasionally into parliamentary -debates. On one occasion, the Head of the Government, -when received with disfavour by the Assembly, -appealed from it for sympathy to the spectators. -Shortly afterwards, when he had left office, he was, for -gross misconduct, expelled by a vote of the House from -sitting there for a year. Yet he is still a prominent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -member of the Opposition, and is one of the three -Members who have been returned for every Parliament.</p> - -<p>The administration ordinarily consists of a colonial -secretary, a treasurer, and an attorney-general, one of -whom is Premier. The duties of office are not so -onerous as to prevent a minister pursuing his ordinary -avocations, such as those of barrister or merchant.</p> - -<p>The legislative power is vested, as in all the -Australian colonies which have a constitution, in two -Houses, corresponding to our Lords and Commons, and -actually using May’s <i>Parliamentary Practice</i> as their -text-book on points of order. The upper House or -Legislative Council of Tasmania contains fifteen members, -each of whom sits for six years from the date of -his election. This House is not subject to dissolution -by the Governor. Its members are chosen by electoral -districts, the electors being freeholders to the amount of -50<i>l.</i> a year, doctors, ministers of religion, graduates of -a university, barristers, and army or navy officers, -resident twelve months prior to the election. The -Lower House, or Legislative Assembly, is chosen by -ten-pound householders, and is subject to dissolution by -the Governor, who now has much the same powers in -the colony that the Crown has in England.</p> - -<p>This ten-pound franchise is in the towns practically -equivalent to household suffrage. In the country the -labourers in general have no votes, as they live rent-free -in houses belonging to their employers. No lowering of -the franchise has ever been seriously demanded or proposed, -and indeed there has been hardly any such thing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -as a genuine democratic cry; but from time to time -sham ‘poor man’s friend’ cries are got up for election -purposes. Those who get them up are so notoriously -worthless, that most honest people here are inspired -with contempt for democratic cries and democrats -everywhere, and when they read their English news -have less toleration for noisy demagogues than an -average English Tory would have. Yet here, as in -England, such opinions are oftener expressed in private -than in public, and there is apparently the same -shrinking from plain outspoken denunciation of the -evils of an unmixed democracy—evils the approach -of which so true a lover of liberty as De Tocqueville -constantly deplored, as certain to be, sooner or later, -fatal to both freedom and patriotism.</p> - -<p>Intimidation of voters is out of the question in a -country where there are scarcely any large employers -of labour, and where the relation of landlord is comparatively -rare, has none of the traditions of feudalism -in it, and is subject to no obligation but that of money -payment. In general a seat in the House of Assembly -is not so much coveted as to have any money value, so -that there is no inducement to bribery. The only -constituency, I was told, amongst which it has been -practised is that of Hobart Town itself. In this, the -only instance in which the ballot could have been of -use, it (on one occasion at least) signally failed. An -ingenious method was practised of evading its secresy, -and making it certain that the bribees carried out their -contract. The system of voting was for each voter to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -be presented, on entering the polling-booth, with a -voting-paper, duly signed, containing the names of <i>both</i> -the candidates. This the voter took into the room containing -the ballot-box, where he erased the name for -which he did <i>not</i> wish to vote, and then deposited it -in the box. The trick was done as follows: Bribee -number one was instructed to pass through without -depositing his voting-paper at all, but to give it after -he came out to the bribing agent. The agent then -erased from it the hostile candidate’s name, and gave it -to bribee number two, who deposited it in the ballot-box, -bringing out his <i>own</i> paper entire, which, after the -Opposition name had been erased, was in like manner -handed to bribee number three, and so on, the bribees -having thus no opportunity of voting wrong without -being discovered.</p> - -<p>In conversation members not only of the Legislature -but of the Ministry do not hesitate to avow their -conviction that the granting of the new Constitution has -proved to be a mistake and a misfortune to the country, -and that the old one worked better, under which -ministers held office permanently and a proportion of -members of the Assembly were nominated by the -Governor. It is not that the government, as compared -with that of the neighbouring colonies, has not on the -whole been well carried on. Under the discouraging -circumstances of a steadily diminishing revenue, which -had to be met from time to time by increased taxation, -the public debt amounts to 5<i>l.</i> 10<i>s.</i> per head as against -13<i>l.</i> 17<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> in prosperous Victoria; and the taxation<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -to 2<i>l.</i> 11<i>s.</i> per head annually against 4<i>l.</i> 12<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> in -Victoria. The men of education and respectability -have in general succeeded in maintaining an ascendancy -over the unprincipled and rowdy element, though the -latter is always at least a strong minority. But there -is something unsuitable and almost comical in adapting -the ponderous machinery of <i>quasi</i> Crown, Lords, and -Commons to so small a community. A popular House -requires numbers to give it any appearance of importance, -and it is impossible that there can be very much -dignity in a very miscellaneous assembly, containing -when all are present only thirty members; although a -reasonable proportion of them are men of fair average -ability, and there is nothing of pomposity or self-importance -in the demeanour of the speakers. Strangers -are admitted into the body of the House, and sit on -benches or on the floor all about the Speaker’s chair, -and though this arrangement is rather disorderly, it is -perhaps an assistance to the speakers to have their -small audience a little increased.</p> - -<p>The title of <i>Honourable</i> has been accorded to members -of the upper House; but so conscious are they, -apparently, of its inappropriateness, that in assuming it -they do not drop the title of esquire, and Mr. Smith of -the Legislative Council is the Honourable John Smith, -Esquire.</p> - -<p>And there is a very practical, and not merely æsthetic, -inappropriateness and inconvenience in too soon -conferring almost complete independence, and consequent -isolation, on a small community. It is true the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -mere possession of a sufficient amount of territory -rightly gives importance and a position of dignity in -the world. Tasmania being about the size of Ireland, -and geographically very well situated, is quite <i>big</i> -enough to stand almost alone. But its entire population, -town and country, is under a hundred thousand, -less than that of a moderately large manufacturing town -in the old world. Making it self-governing tends to cut -off the supply from home of educated men who used to -go out in various official positions. As a new generation -grows up, its ranks are no longer increased by those -who have had a more complete education and a wider -experience in the old world. By most of the older -generation of colonists this isolation is felt and deplored -as an evil. But the younger ones cannot be expected -to look upon the matter in the same light; and as an -instance of this, an attempt was lately made to abolish -two scholarships which are annually given out of the -public money by competitive examination for sending -and maintaining two students at an English University. -The Bill passed the lower House almost without opposition, -and the scholarships were only saved in the -upper House by a narrow majority obtained by the -strenuous protest of one of its Members.</p> - -<p>Interest in the details of imperial questions of necessity -grows weaker year by year. It is not that loyalty -to the old country and to the crown is decaying. None -would repudiate such an idea more than the Tasmanians. -Their Tasmanianism is to them scarcely more than an -accident, which the fact of their being English far transcends<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -in importance. Considering its age, this colony -retains a more completely English character than any -of the others. But the rising generation knows England -only by tradition and by books. And of the older men -throughout Australia many feel somewhat keenly the -indifference shown to the colonies by England.</p> - -<p>Those in particular who by tradition or by the -natural bent of their minds are conservative, have, in -fighting their hopeless battle against the excesses of democracy, -looked almost in vain during the last fifteen -years for support or sympathy to the political party in -England from whom they had a right to expect it. Such -neglect could not fail to alienate their interest in English -politics. And when the news came that the cause of -their old party at home was not only lost, but its political -honour indelibly stained by the unprincipled and -time-serving policy of its leaders, it seemed like a last -act of painful severance from their old hopes and traditions -of political life.</p> - -<p>The parliament of a colony, especially one so small -in population as Tasmania, can have in general only -petty local questions to discuss. With no foreign relations, -such as an altogether independent state has, and -therefore no foreign policy, and generally with no clearly -defined or special domestic policy either, there are no -opposing principles for opposite parties to adopt. The -result is that, so far from agreeing, they divide with tenfold -greater hostility and rancour on personal and private -grounds. It is sometimes difficult, when a government -is defeated and resigns, for the Governor to know whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -to send for to form a new Ministry. The plan at first -resorted to, of sending for the proposer of the hostile -motion, might not improbably result in obtaining a -new Premier with no other claim or qualification for the -office than his hostility to his predecessor.</p> - -<p>An instance of personal and party feeling overriding -plain public justice occurred some years ago, in the case -of one of the judges—with this one exception always a -good set—who endeavoured to borrow money of a suitor -pending the decision on his case. The suitor refused -and made the scandal known; whereupon the judge, -fearing the consequences, pleaded ill-health and applied -for a retiring ill-health pension in the ordinary -way. This the government, under the circumstances, -refused; but afterwards, finding that the judge would -not voluntarily resign without a pension, and that his -partisans and friends in the House were too strong to -allow a vote of the House summarily dismissing him -to pass, they were compelled to bring in and pass a -special Act granting him the full amount of the pension -asked for, as the only means of getting rid of him from -the bench. Shortly afterwards, his alleged bad health -notwithstanding, he got himself elected and took his -seat in the House. The pension, of course, he still continues -to enjoy.</p> - -<p>Where population is thick and the choice of companions -large, as at an English University, quarrels -are rare, for men can easily avoid uncongenial society. -Where population is sparse, as up the country in a -colony, jealousies and animosities are more likely to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -arise and to become inveterate. And thus the same -kind of petty personal and party spirit which is to be -found in the Parliament, often pervades to a still worse -and more noxious extent the Municipal Councils which -have the local management of the country districts. -Roads, excellently engineered and solidly made in old -days by convict labour, are allowed to get out of repair -because there is a dispute in the Municipal Council -whether or not a new road shall be made, which would -be shorter for some and longer for others. Corrupt -officials are retained because their patrons or relations -are in a majority in the Council. In one instance which -came under my notice, an upright and conscientious -magistrate was so moved to indignation by the unpunished -misconduct and peculations of the police -superintendent of the district, that he could not refrain -from denouncing him in a hustings speech. The -offender retorted by publicly giving the magistrate the -lie, there and then, and at the next petty sessions summoned -the magistrate for slander, the magistrate at the -same time taking out a cross summons against him for -insulting his superior. There could not be a doubt of -the man’s guilt, though hitherto all attempts to punish -him had failed, yet it was so notoriously certain to be -made a party question, that when the magistrates assembled -they confessed that they were not impartial -enough to hear the case, and agreed to refer it to some -magistrate of another district. Even then the two -parties amongst the magistrates could not agree to whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -to refer it, and at last were reduced to the expedient of -selecting three magistrates’ names by lot.</p> - -<p>The Press of course suffers from the paucity of readers -and from the absence of a sufficiency of topics to discuss. -Every day one if not two leaders appear, often -necessarily about nothing at all, while the rest of the -sheet has to be filled up anyhow, with cases of vagrants -fined at the police-court for being drunk, and so on. -Hobart Town in general supports only one daily paper, -though now and then another makes a start, which -suffices for all the south of the island. There are no -other gods in Olympus, and so this local Jupiter reigns -with undisputed sway, his power being as independent -of his merit as that of the Emperor of China. So entirely -uncontrolled and uncriticised is it that even a -Premier in forming an Administration may have to take -account of it as of a formidable power in the state, which -cannot be defied with impunity, and may even consider -that it is entitled to be consulted on such matters, and -be ready to resent anything having the appearance of -neglect. In such a state of things there is of course -always a possibility and a danger of the Jupiter for the -time being falling into the hands of some ambitious, unscrupulous, -and perhaps illiterate speculator, and being -used by him as an instrument of personal advancement, -as could easily be done in a hundred different ways, and -so becoming a serious annoyance as a source of jobbery -and petty tyranny. There is indeed a rival Olympus -at Launceston in the north of the island. But there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -are generally two or three deities there to share the -power between them, and moreover the northern and -southern population have in many respects different -interests, and do not, I believe, read each other’s papers -very much.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">TASMANIA</span> (<i>continued</i>).</p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">I must</span> recall even the little I have said in a former -letter in dispraise of the Tasmanian climate. In the -valleys it may be too mild and enervating, but there -are other parts where it is very different.</p> - -<p>Go in the coach, for instance, for sixty miles along -the high road to Launceston, which is still the main -artery of the settlement, having been made in the old -times, with enormous expenditure of labour, by huge -gangs of convicts, clusters of whose ruined and deserted -huts are still to be seen. It is by far the best road in -all the Australian colonies, the only one (as far as I -know) over which a common English stage-coach -can travel, and travel too at the rate of ten miles -an hour, including stoppages. Then mount your -horse, leave highways and civilisation behind, and ride -westwards along a pleasant grassy road to the foot of -a long wooded range, or tier, as it is called. You -ascend perhaps a thousand feet and find yourself, not -on a ridge or a mountain, but on a high table-land, in -a new and uninhabited country and in a new climate. -It is the lake country. Five large lakes, from one to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -three thousand feet above the plains, are ready to pour -down their waters and irrigate the whole island into a -garden. The sun’s rays are as powerful as on the -plains, but the air is fresh and even keen, and at night -for the greater part of the year it freezes sharply. -Snow falls often as early as March, the first month of -autumn. There is no fear of relaxing heat there. -The grass is greener, too, and feels softer and more -springy to ride over. A continuous fence is on each -side of the track; for the country, though uninhabited -except by sheep and their keepers, is most of it purchased -and fenced now. But it is a dead-wood fence -of unhewn trunks, with the smaller branches built up -horizontally upon them, and therefore not an eyesore, -like the ugly straight post-and-rail fences; and, -moreover, capable of being easily cleared by a horse at -any weak place. Eight miles of this, and a large -and beautiful lake startles you by shining not a hundred -yards off through the trees, and, almost at the -same moment, another lake on the opposite side. -Between them is a log hut, the first habitation passed -for twenty miles, and out of it appears a fine, active-looking -old man, whose privilege it is to stop passers-by -for a ten minutes’ chat. In Tasmania it is not safe to -ask a stranger <i>why</i> he left home, but you may always -ask <i>where</i> the old home was, and the old man is soon -full of Oxford, and the boats, and boat races, and -knows (alas!) which boat has been winning at Putney -of late years. And so you may go on day after day. -It may be there is nothing strikingly magnificent in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -this part of the country, but there is not a mile of the -track that is not charming in its way. Only you must -not lose it. For some distance the fences of the sheep-runs -are parallel to and indicate it, and there is no fear -of getting wrong, but afterwards you need some one -who knows the country for a guide. For it is seldom -that there are landmarks to go by. Once off the -track, and there is nothing but the compass or the sun -to steer by, and nothing bigger than a hut to aim at. -One gum is like another gum, and one wattle like -another wattle, and you may come back to the same -spot without recognising it. And there is nothing to -eat in the bush, unless by chance you come across a -kangaroo, or an opossum, or a kangaroo-rat, and have -the means to kill, and the inclination to eat, such food. -In old times this part of the country was a favourite -haunt of bushrangers, but want of food obliged them -to make frequent incursions into the more settled districts, -and in all the Australian colonies bushranging -was, for this reason, easily extinguished, where it had -not the connivance of some of the settlers. In New -South Wales there must be a taste for preserving -bushrangers, for they still flourish there.</p> - -<p>Or if you prefer a more settled country with farms -and townships at distant intervals, cross the broad deep -Derwent by the steam-ferry at Hobart Town, or, -taking the other road, by a ferry three or four miles -higher up, of which a burly Yorkshireman has charge. -The first road winds round a high hill, and the second -mounts it by a gradual continuous ascent of three<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -miles. The cleared land with its yellow harvest or -green, growing crops, and neat dead-wood fences and -bushes of luxuriant sweet-briar, and perhaps a garden -and green English trees, make a foreground to a forest -of gum-trees and wattles, which has been thinned but -not cleared by fire, or by cutting a deep ring through -the bark of the trees, for the sake of the scanty brown -grass underneath, which their shade and growth make -still more scanty. The bare white trunks and boughs -of these slaughtered but still standing trees stand out -grim and gaunt against the sky for many a year, till a -pitying gale or a fire at their roots brings them to -earth, making weird and ghostly dells such as Gustave -Doré loves to draw, and too often needlessly caricatures. -The road descends again upon a township. -There is generally something dreary and repelling -about the townships in all the Australian colonies. -They are like little bits cut out of a modern English -manufacturing town, and more than half killed in the -process. Bare square-built brick houses, without a -scrap of flower-garden or shrubbery, or any heed given -to prettiness or neatness. Almost every tree cut -down for perhaps a mile round; dust and glare; an -inordinate number of public-houses, none of which -care much to take you in unless you are a large consumer -of strong drinks. They look like places intended -only for business, and not for homes at all. -And so you pass through a township, if possible, without -stopping, and this time three miles on you -turn aside across pleasant meadows to where, half<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -hidden by St. Helena weeping willows and by a thick -high hedge of brilliant yellow broom, stands a hospitable -house. There is another house, the prettiest of -wooden cottages, or rather bungalows, where you -would be equally welcome; but you must leave it for -another time, for if you stopped everywhere where you -were tempted, you would not travel far in Tasmania. -The road henceforth is in general only a track cleared, -where it is necessary, amongst the trees; and you and -your horse’s feet rejoice in the absence of all pavement -save nature’s own. Day after day you ride on through -the pleasant bush, meeting or passing or seeing some -one perhaps once in two or three hours. Bright-coloured -parrakeets fly about in flocks; the blue, red, -and green Rosella parrot is the commonest bird of any -in the bush. Now and then, though rarely, you may -see a white cockatoo raise his yellow crest, or a kangaroo -or wallaby jump across the track, or a mild-eyed -opossum looks foolishly at you from a tree; or you -stop to kill with a whip or stick a snake basking by the -roadside, as you are bound to do if possible, for they are -numerous and all poisonous. Of sounds there are few. -Sometimes in the early morning the native magpie fills -the air with the music of his delicious dreamy note, or -later in the day the jackass utters his absurd laugh. -The bush is monotonous perhaps, and the foliage and -vegetation grey and brown and scanty, and the ground -often bare instead of grassy, as in moister climates, but -here there is constant change of hill and valley, constant -pleasant surprises of new scenery, such as one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -meets with only in travelling for the first time in -country undescribed by tourists and guide-books. If -it spoils the interest of a novel to be told the plot -beforehand, does it not ten times more spoil the enjoyment -of new country to be forewarned of its surprises of -scenery, which are the most delicious morsels of our -pleasure in it? And along this east coast you seldom -or never need a guide, for, wild and lonely as it often -is, the track is always clear enough. You may, if you -please, take a cart and luggage, for it is astonishing -how carts and their horses learn to dispense with roads. -A horse that is used to it thinks nothing of drawing a -cart over a fallen trunk a couple of feet in diameter, -going at it obliquely, one wheel at a time. But as tall -hats, and black coats, and crinolines, and bonnets are -about as necessary on a bush journey as an Armstrong -gun or a pair of skates, you will probably dispense -with any such useless incumbrance, and take only a -change of clothes in a valise on the pommel of your -saddle or behind it, or a mackintosh-covered bundle of -eight or nine pounds weight strapped neatly to the -off side of your side-saddle. You are free then, and -can go or stay when and where the spirit moves you. -And to anyone with the faintest idea how to use -pencil or brush, the sharpness of outline, the clear -blue of the distance, the brilliant sunshine and strong -defined shadows, offer temptations to stop at every -turn, and let your horse stand quietly grazing—‘hung -up,’ as the phrase is, to a tree—while you sketch at -leisure. You spend a day or two perhaps on Prosser’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -Plains, a level tract lying charmingly amongst bush-covered -hills; or turn aside to Cape Bougainville with -its lovely views of the coast and of Maria Island; -and you pass close along the calm shore of Oyster -Bay, the sea a deep Prussian blue with broad dark -lines of shadow, and beyond, closing in the bay, the -bright purple island and peninsula of Schouten. A -lovelier coast, and a less frequented, it would be hard -to find. Hobart Town is seventy or eighty miles off, -and there are no made roads to communicate with it. -Formerly a small steamer plied thither, but somebody -must needs start an opposition steamer, and so they -ruined each other, and both ceased to ply, and now -there is only a small schooner. Every fifteen or -twenty miles, or oftener, you come to cleared land, -often studded with stumps two or three feet high in -the midst of the growing crops, and to the house of -the proprietor generally built all on the ground-floor, -and all the prettier and more comfortable in consequence, -and almost always with a deep verandah, which -gives it shadow and character. Properties are small -and produce little, compared with the huge stations of -the other colonies, and there is little prospect of acquiring -great wealth. But, on the other hand, there -is not the same Damocles-sword of anxiety lest a -drought or a fall in the price of wool should bring -inevitable bankruptcy and ruin. Here up the country -one does not hear so much moaning and groaning as -in the towns about the depressed state of the colony, -which after all is for the most part only an undue<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -hurry and impatience to get rich. Cannot people be -satisfied with a fair profit on their own capital, without -borrowing at eight or nine per cent., and expecting a -large profit over and above on that? There may be -too much wealth in a country for comfort and happiness, -as well as too much poverty, if people would -only believe it. Few things disturb honest industry -and breed discontent more than the contemplation of -too easily and too rapidly acquired fortunes. Those -that were made in Victoria and elsewhere soon after -the discovery of gold have left their demoralising and -disheartening influence on all Australia. Without a -large income, Arcadian luxury of climate, scenery, and -quiet may be enjoyed in Tasmania. It is the perfection -of retired country life. If there is in general not much -wealth, there are almost always comfort and plenty. -It does not matter that Hobart Town is some days’ -journey distant, and that a day’s shopping is an occurrence -that seldom happens once a year—sometimes not -once in many years—for almost every want of the -household is supplied from its own resources. And a -traveller from the old country, utter stranger though -he be, meets with a welcome so cordial, so hearty, so -completely as a matter of course, that to one used only -to the highways of European travel it bears a tinge -almost of romance, and the memory of days thus spent -in perfect enjoyment gathers a halo about it which no -words of mine can describe.</p> - -<p>Or ride out of Hobart Town, where, perhaps, towards -the end of the summer scarcely any rain has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -fallen for two or three months, and follow the new -road to the Huon, over the side of Mount Wellington. -As you ascend, on a sudden it is cold and damp, and -the road sloppy with wet. The vegetation, too, has -changed. The gums are ten times the height of those -down below, straight gigantic trunks, rising fifty to -a hundred feet without a branch. People speak of -trunks seventy feet in circumference twelve feet above -the ground, but I have seen none so large as that. I -am afraid to guess at their height: the mightiest European -trees are dwarfs in comparison. Splitters are at -work felling them and clearing away the underwood, -and the blows of the axe sound and echo as if in a -banqueting-hall of the gods. It is sacrilege to fell -them; but the gaps made open out a view far away -over the tops of the trees below to the mouths of the -Derwent and the Huon, the jagged coast-line, the distant -capes and breakwater-like islands, conspicuous -amongst them, long, narrow Bruni, where Captain -Cook landed nearly a century ago; and over all the -south wind blows cool and fresh from the Southern -Ocean, for there is nothing but sea and ice between -you and the Pole. Further on the road diminishes to -a narrow track, cut amongst the huge gums, and -through an undergrowth of almost tropical vegetation -so dense that within twelve miles of Hobart Town it -remained till a few years ago almost unpenetrated. -There is the sassafras, with straight, tapering stem and -branches, and fragrant myrtle-like leaves; and fern -trees, drooping their large graceful fronds from thick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -brown or red stems, from six to thirty feet high; and -bright purple nightshade berries as big as cherries, and -shrubs without end, and it seems almost without names, -except such barbarous misapplications of English -names as are in use to distinguish them, till the -Heralds’ Office of the Linnæan Society gives them title, -rank, and lineage—all growing in a dense mass, and -baffling even the all-penetrating sun. Then the track -descends a little, and it all vanishes, and the ground is -dry as before, and two hours’ more riding brings you -out suddenly upon the bank of a fine river, the Huon, -as wide here and deeper than the Thames at Richmond. -A short distance off along the bank are a roughly made -landing-stage and a ferry boat, and you must <i>cooé</i> in -the best falsetto you can (if there is a lady of the party -she will probably do it better) till the ferryman hears -you and comes, and with some trouble persuades -the horses into the boat, and punts you across, -and gives you directions how to thread your way -through the scrub till you emerge upon a corduroy -road and upon the township of Franklin. It is the -chief township of the district, with some six hundred -inhabitants, exceptional in being the perfection of a -country village, stretching along the base of a hill two -or three hundred feet high, and fringing the river bank -and tiny wharf with its neat wooden houses. The -grass is green, and not burnt up and brown, as it is in -most places long before summer is over, for here -there is moisture enough all the year round. The -people here grow apples, and send them off by shiploads<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -straight from the wharf to the all-devouring -Melbourne market; and they make shingles for roofing, -and shape timber, and saw up the famous Huon -pine, which they often have not even the trouble of -felling, for the winter floods wash it down from almost -unpenetrated bush. Though it is not thirty miles -from Hobart Town and civilization, yet westward for -seventy or eighty miles to the sea is no human habitation, -nothing but bush so thick, so devoid of anything -to support life, that of the convicts who from -time to time in years past escaped into it from Macquarie -Harbour, on the west coast, scarcely any got -through alive. Much of it needs only clearing to -make fine agricultural land. There are millions of -acres to be bought by the first comer at a pound an -acre. Yet, out of sixteen and a half million acres -which Tasmania contains, only three and a half are -alienated, and on this small portion, including the -towns, the population is less than one person for thirty-five -acres!</p> - -<p>Can any country be more perfectly delightful? -Once mounted (and, rich or poor, there are few who -cannot possess or borrow a horse of some sort in Tasmania) -one is free with a freedom known only in -dreams to dwellers in the old country of hedges and -Enclosure Acts, where to quit the dreary flinty roads -is to trespass and to break the law. One’s first reflection -is on the astonishing folly of humanity in -neglecting to inhabit it. Surely there must be many -wearied with the crowd and strife and ugliness of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -English cities, who, brought to a virgin forest such as -this, would be ready to sing their <i>Nunc dimittis</i> in -thankfulness that it had been permitted them to exist -in such beauty, to have their dreams helped to the -imagination of the glory of the new heavens and the -new earth. Probably, however, not one person in -twenty, take England through, would have his or her -enjoyment of life materially increased by living in a -free unspoiled country, with abundance of space and -air, or indeed in natural beauty of any kind; and -doubtless a large majority at heart prefer the shops of -Oxford Street, for a continuance, to the most beautiful -scenery imaginable. And it may be there is something -of a true instinct in them, such as was in Sir -Robert Peel when (as the story goes) he used to -stand at the top of Trafalgar Square, and looking -down over the dreary, ugly, blackened buildings, and -the busy colourless crowd, say it was the most beautiful -sight he ever saw. For after all men are better -than trees. Besides, rich people are too comfortable -to change their homes and their hemisphere, and poor -people must go where they can find bread as well as -beauty. So till the country is found to provide a -cure for impecuniosity as well as for less tangible and -less generally recognised requirements, it must remain, -I suppose, nearly as it is.</p> - -<p>The common, and no doubt correct, reason given for -its failure in this last respect, is that it is essentially -an agricultural and not a pastoral country, owing to -the quantity of timber, and that wheat is too cheap to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -repay even a moderate profit on cultivation. Wheat -is unnaturally cheap now, because the popular cry in -Victoria lately has been for protection, and the Victorian -Government, to conciliate it, and to nurse their -‘cockatoo’ settlers, has put a duty on corn and other -produce which, to a great extent, drives the Tasmanians -from their natural and legitimate market. -Certainly, at the present low prices, a farmer employing -labourers finds it difficult to make a living. In some -places there is land thrown out of cultivation, looking -dismal enough. Nevertheless, for common agricultural -labourers there is plenty of demand; a labourer -can earn at least three times as much as he can in the -southern counties of England. In wages he gets at -least ten shillings a week, out of which he has hardly -anything but his clothes to buy; for in addition he -has rations, consisting of twelve pounds of mutton, -twelve pounds of flour, two pounds of sugar, and a -quarter of a pound of tea; and a log hut, and a garden -if he likes, rent free. Fresh comers from England -sometimes do not know how to consume so large an -allowance of meat, and ask to have part of it changed -for something else. But before long they fall into the -universal Tasmanian custom of eating meat three times -a day, and learn to be glad of it all. At shearing -time a large number of hands are wanted at once, and -wages are much higher. It is a common thing for a -man after shearing is over to give the cheque he has -earned, perhaps for twenty pounds or more, to the -keeper of the nearest grog-shop, and bid him supply<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -him with liquor there and then till it is all spent. If -a man will only keep from drink he can save money -enough in a few years to buy land and support himself -till his first crop is reaped. He has no labour to pay -for, and like the peasant proprietors of Adelaide, who -this year have been sending their wheat to England, -may succeed where an employer of labour fails. There -is land along the north coast rich as any in the -world, but heavily timbered. The settler gets rid of -the smaller trees and underwood simply by setting it -on fire, and sows his seed in the ashes, and gets a fine -crop without even ploughing, leaving the larger timber -to be felled as he has leisure for it. There are harbours -all along this coast, and a railway is about to be -made, and before many years are over it will take a -heavy tariff to keep the produce of this fertile district -out of Melbourne market.</p> - -<p>And after all, at the worst, is it to come to this—that -a shrewd, strong, hard-working man, with plenty -of land of his own, cannot live unless markets and prices -are favourable? Need an Englishman starve now, -under circumstances in which a Saxon or a Dane of a -thousand years ago would, after his fashion, have -luxuriated in plenty? If so, it is the custom of excessive -subdivision of labour, the growing incompleteness -in themselves of men and of households, which -has spoilt us for settling in a new country. Such subdivision -of course increases production in a highly -civilised country, but it may easily become a source -of mental and physical degradation to the producer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -Sheffield knives may be the best and cheapest in the -world, but we have all heard of the Sheffield emigrant -girl, who, landing in a new colony, and seeking employment, -confessed she had never been taught to do -anything whatever, indoors or outdoors, but <i>pack files</i>. -If wheat or other produce will not fetch a profit, -cannot a man grow less of it, and instead keep sheep -and poultry to supply himself with meat, and on such -a soil as this grow perhaps grapes for his own wine, -such as it is, and even possibly flax for his own linen? -And if his wife be of the right sort for a settler’s -wife, and not of the file-packing sort, there will be -few things for which he need go to a shop. Such a -state of things, if possible, and not Utopian, has at -least this advantage, that it saves the wife and young -children from the great bane of peasant proprietorship, -that of becoming like mere unthinking, routine-following -beasts of burden on the soil, as we see them too -often in Belgium and France, with no other thought -or employment but how to put the utmost possible -pound of manure on the soil, and how to extract from -it the utmost bushel in return, to the neglect of all -things else on earth. At any rate, it is hardly to be -believed that English agricultural labourers will not, -sooner or later, have spirit to attempt to solve the -problem for themselves one way or another, rather than -rest contented with their present condition. The present -generation may hope to live to see them asking -twice or three times their present wages, and, if unable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -to obtain them, departing for a new, and, for them, a -freer country.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately, some working men at home have -singularly unpractical ideas about freedom. At least -so it appears to us out here at the antipodes, where -home questions assume such different relative proportions, -and the monthly mail, with its tale of political -strife, is so often a weariness rather than a pleasure to -read. Franchise questions are trifles compared to -land questions out here, and we cannot see the point -(even after allowing for rhetorical flourish) of people -choosing to call themselves serfs because they have not -got votes. It is difficult to understand what conceivable -meaning those men could have attached to the -word ‘freedom,’ who considered that they were asserting -or claiming it by parading the streets at the -summons of a Beales. To us, such an exhibition of -franchise-worship—if that be what it means—under -such a high priest, appears like lingering round a -golden calf, when a promised land lies waiting to be -claimed.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">SYDNEY AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">The</span> chief towns of the five principal Australian Colonies -are separated by nearly equal intervals. The -distances from Adelaide to Melbourne, from Melbourne -to Hobart Town, from Melbourne to Sydney, and from -Sydney to Brisbane are not very different. That from -Melbourne to Sydney is a little the longest of them. -It is rather more than a two days’ and two nights’ -voyage. To go by land is a tedious and laborious -journey, except for those who know the country and -its inhabitants very well. Only a small portion can -be done by railway, and most of the way is through -flat, monotonous country, more or less afflicted with -floods, bushrangers, bad roads, and worse inns. Indeed, -whenever there is steam communication by water -between two Australian towns, it is seldom that there -is any other practicable way of going.</p> - -<p>The Melbourne steamer keeps close in shore all the -way. The coast generally has a barren look, and, except -at Cape Schank and near a mountain called the Pigeon -House, has few striking features. It is so little settled -or cultivated that its appearance from the sea cannot be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> -much changed since Captain Cook explored it. It is -seldom that there is a sail in sight. At the very -entrance of Port Jackson hardly a living creature, few -buildings except the lighthouses, and no mast of a ship -at anchor are visible. It is not till the narrow opening -between the high precipitous cliffs is entered and the -South Head rounded, that a scene of beauty bursts -upon you as suddenly as a vision in a fairy story. In -an instant the long rollers and angry white surf (for -there are rollers and surf on the shores of the Pacific -on the calmest day) are left behind, and the vessel is -gliding smoothly over a glassy lake, doubly and trebly -land-locked, so that the open sea is hidden from every -part of it. To the north and east numberless inlets -and coves branch off, subdivide, and wind like rivers -between rocky scrub-covered shores, which are fragrant -with wattle, and brilliant with wild flowers, all new -and strange to a European eye. To the left, on the -southern side, are large deep bays, on the shores of -which the rich men of Sydney have built villas and -planted gardens, with which no villa or garden at -Torquay or at Spezzia can compare. Farther on, -perhaps four miles from the Heads, you pass three or -four men-of-war, lying motionless at anchor little more -than a couple of stone-throws from the shore, having -for their background the graceful bamboos, and trim -Norfolk Island and Moreton Bay pines, and palms, -and other semi-tropical vegetation of the Botanic Gardens. -Steamers of all sizes, from the great P. and O. -and Panama ocean steamship, to the busy, puffing,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -gaily-painted little harbour paddle-boat, plough up the -clear water. Pleasure boats, from the yacht to the -sculler’s funny, flit noiselessly about. Or a panting -steam-tug drags a merchant ship amongst the hulls -and masts and funnels which fringe the innermost -part of the harbour. Above the masts, with miles -of winding wharfage at its base, stands Sydney. At -sunrise or sunset on a calm day there is something -almost Oriental in the brilliancy of colour, something -dreamy and unsubstantial in the water, the shores, the -black hulls and spars, seen through the sun-lit haze, -like pictures one sees of the Golden Horn—such as -Turner would have delighted to paint. Port Jackson, -both for use and beauty, is almost unsurpassed in the -world. It is nowhere much more than a mile in -width; its most distant extremities are not twenty -miles apart in a straight line; yet its perimeter, -measured along the water’s edge and up its numberless -little inlets, must be hundreds of miles in length.</p> - -<p>But once land and enter the town itself, and all -pleasing prospects and illusions vanish at once. Never -was a city less worthy of its situation. The principal -street is nearly two miles long. For the greater part -of the way this street is more or less in a hollow, and -from hardly any part of it is the harbour visible. The -rest of the city straggles right and left of it, covering -with its suburbs a very large extent of ground. Only -one good street, Macquarie Street, is finely situated. -There are two really fine buildings, superior to anything -of the kind in Melbourne, the new Cathedral,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -and the Hall of the University. A few public buildings -and some of the banks are solidly, if not gracefully, -built. But in general the houses are small, -ugly, ill drained, ill built, and in bad repair, and the -greater part of the town a poor specimen of the mean -style of house architecture prevailing in England forty -or fifty years ago. It is but seldom that any attempt -has been made to make the plans of houses such as to -suit the requirements of the climate, as has been done -so successfully at Melbourne. Deep verandahs, which -add so much to the appearance of a building by producing -contrasts of light and shade, and which are so -essential to comfort in a hot, glaring climate, are the -exception rather than the rule. People who can afford -to be comfortable and luxurious live out of town now, -and so what is perhaps the best part of Sydney has -been preserved almost unaltered from the Governor-Macquarie -era of half a century ago.</p> - -<p>The climate is such as to make shade and protection -from sun, wind, and dust almost a necessity. In -winter, in July and August for instance, it is very -pleasant. Even then it is often as hot in the sun as -on an average fine day in England in summer; and a -fire is out of the question, except in the evening or on -a wet day. Snow has not fallen in Sydney, it is said, -for twenty years. A sensation was produced the other -day by a large snow-ball which a guard on the railway -brought in his van from somewhere up the country -where there had been a snow-storm. Towards the end -of September it begins to be unpleasantly hot. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -streets are for the most part left unwatered. Often a -violent hot wind blows, filling the air with fine red -dust, which penetrates through closed doors and windows, -covering everything, and severely trying all -mucous membranes, eyes, and tempers. This wind is -known as a <i>Brickfielder</i>. It blows from the west, and -generally lasts from one to two days. Then comes a -southerly wind, often accompanied by rain and thunder, -which strikes it at right angles, and prevails over it. -The temperature at once falls. The sea breeze is disliked -by many almost as much as the other, for though -cool it is enervating. The temperature in summer at -Sydney is not nearly so high as in the interior. Yet -the Squatter from up the country when he comes -there complains of the heat. Labourers declare that -they cannot do a good day’s work there. With all -classes hours of work are short and holidays frequent. -Old people and persons with delicate and peculiar constitutions -may have their lives prolonged; but strong -men get ill who never were ill before, and complexions -and faces look white, sallow, and shrunken almost like -those of Anglo-Indians.</p> - -<p>Sydney is specially deserving of attention as being -politically a fair average type of an Australian city. -It is more like what most other Australian towns are -likely to become than any other place. For the -colony is nearly eighty years old. It has a history by -no means uneventful or uninteresting. Among its -early heroes it can point to many men of conspicuous -ability, energy, and integrity. Most of the population<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -are natives of the colony, real colonials, and not emigrants -from the old country. They are less restless, -less excitable, perhaps less energetic, than their neighbours -at Melbourne. Some of them have hardly ever -been ten miles from their native city.</p> - -<p>Though no longer the capital or even the first city of -Australia, Sydney is an important and increasing town. -The more rapid growth of Melbourne has thrown it -into the shade, and no doubt Melbourne will maintain -its position, and, owing to its central situation, continue -to be the commercial emporium of the other colonies. -But it may be doubted whether Victoria will maintain -its lead over New South Wales. The good land of -Victoria extends to the very shores of Port Phillip, the -country is small comparatively, and has been easily -opened up. In New South Wales three trunk lines -are in progress and are open for some distance, but -hundreds of miles of railway must be made before many -fertile districts can be even known, except by report, -and before even the inhabitants—much more, possible -emigrants at home—begin to realise the enormous resources -of the country. Gold is found in all directions, -though as yet in few places, compared with Victoria, in -quantities which repay the digger. Iron is plentiful. -There is an unlimited supply of coal close to the mouth -of the Hunter. Kerosene is being procured in abundance. -The English cereals flourish as well as maize -and arrowroot. Almost any quantity of wine might be -grown, and some of it is about as good as average -light French claret. Light wine is a great addition to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -comfort in this climate; and as it becomes more plentiful, -and cheaper, it will help more than anything to drive -out the old colonial vice of excessive spirit-drinking, -already on the decline. There are several varieties of -climate, for climate depends more upon height above the -sea-level than upon latitude. From the mountainous -district of Kiandra the telegraph day after day even to -the end of September reports ‘snow falling,’ while at -Sydney we are broiling. In New England, close to -the borders of Queensland, there is almost an English -climate, and strawberries and other English fruits and -vegetables grow in perfection; while a short distance -off, on the Clarence, and on the vast plains to the westward, -the heat, though dry and comparatively healthy, -is intense, and men will put away their coats and -waistcoats in a box, only to be taken out if they want -to go to Sydney or to look specially respectable. To -the number of sheep and cattle which may be kept -there is practically no limit. Only there is a distance -beyond which the expense of carting wool or driving -cattle to a market eats up all the profit. For wool, -railways will at once extend this distance. As for -cattle, there is a new invention for freezing meat by -means of ammonia, and thus preserving it entirely -unchanged for any number of weeks or months. If -this is successful, as there is every reason to hope, -frozen meat may be brought down to the nearest port -and kept frozen for a voyage of any length, and thus -the English market may be supplied with fresh meat -from the heart of Australia.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span></p> - -<p>Food, both animal and vegetable, is perhaps as -cheap in Australia as in any part of the world. Even -in Sydney, where it is comparatively dear, the best -beef and mutton cost only about fourpence a pound, a -price which is said to pay a very large profit to the -butcher. Inferior meat is as low as a penny or two-pence -a pound. Wheat this year has been as low as -half-a-crown a bushel in some country places. In the -bush, where shepherds and others get their rations of -half a sheep each a week, the waste is often very great. -Much is thrown away, or given to the dogs, or spoilt by -bad cooking. This abundance makes it at first sight -seem extraordinary that the early settlers at Sydney -should have been for so many years dependent on -supplies of salt provisions brought from England or the -Cape, and that when these supplies ran short they -should several times have been on the verge of starvation. -But a ride outside the town explains it. The -soil for many miles round is sandy and barren. To this -day unenclosed and uncultivated land extends up to the -very streets of the town. Even market gardeners have -not found it worth while to establish themselves, except -in a few gullies where the soil is a little better. It is a -good thing <i>now</i> that this is so; for near a large city, -which can easily be supplied from a distance, an unlimited -expanse of natural park is better than ploughed -fields. Populous and straggling as the town is, a short -ride, or half an hour’s row across the harbour, takes you -into country as wild as a Scotch moor. On the north -shore you may almost lose yourself in the bush within<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -two or three miles of the town. To the south you may -ride in an hour and a half over glorious open country, -amongst scarlet bottle-brush, epacris, and a profusion -of beautiful wild flowers, to the clear water and white, -sandy, uninhabited shores of Botany Bay, which even -in mid-winter quite deserves its name.</p> - -<p>Amongst the few cultivated districts near Sydney is -Parramatta. It is there that the trim gardens of dark -green orange trees are, with their profusion of golden -fruit hanging patiently among the leaves for three or -four months. But to see agriculture on a large scale -you must go by railway nearly thirty miles to the valley -of the Hawkesbury. A richer alluvial soil than there -is in this valley could not well be, nor one requiring -less labour in its cultivation. But, owing to droughts -and floods, so precarious are the crops that the cultivators -are said to be content if they can secure one out of -three which they sow. In the early days a bad flood -on the Hawkesbury caused a scarcity throughout the -colony. In June last an unusually bad one occurred. -The river actually rose nearly sixty feet in perpendicular -height, flowing more than forty feet above the -roadway of the bridge near Richmond. You may see -the rubbish brought down by it on the tops of the trees. -And though the stream runs between high banks, the -wide, flat plain above was twelve feet deep in rushing -water, which a furious gale of wind made still more -destructive. A few small patches are already green -again with a luxuriant crop. The rest of the plain is -a dismal brown expanse of dried mud. The strong<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -post-and-rail fences are tumbling down or half buried. -Here and there a few slabs or a door-post sticking up -out of the ground mark the place from which a log hut -or a cottage has been swept away.</p> - -<p>Another fertile district, the Illawarra, may be reached -by going in a coasting steamer for fifty miles south from -Sydney. A longer but pleasanter way is to take the -Southern Railway for thirty-five miles, and ride the -remaining thirty. The ride is through poor, sandy, -scrubby country, abounding, as sandy soils so often do, -with brilliant wild flowers. The native or gigantic -lily grows here in perfection, a single red flower on a -straight stem, often fifteen or twenty feet high; and the -waratah, or native tulip, in diameter as big as a sunflower, -but conical, and crimson like a peony. Suddenly -you reach the edge of a steep descent, so steep as to be -almost a cliff, and look down amongst large timber trees -interlaced with dark-leaved creepers of almost tropical -growth, which hang like fringed ropes from the trunks -and branches. Lower down are palms, wild figs, and -cabbage palms; and beyond is a broad strip of rich -green meadow land, lying far below between the cliff -and the sea, and stretching many miles away to the -south. Half an hour’s steep descent takes you down -to it. There is a home-like look about the green grass, -the appearance of prosperity, and the substantial look -of the farm houses. Farmers’ wives jog along to Wollongong -market with their baskets or their babies before -them on the pommels of their saddles. Almost everybody,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -except a few of the larger landowners, is Irish. -Here, if anywhere, the Irish have fallen upon pleasant -places and found congenial occupation. There is very -little agriculture. The land is all in pasture, and nothing -is kept but cows. The population is wholly given -up to making butter. Even cheese they do not condescend -to make: but Wollongong butter is the butter -of Sydney, and finds its way to far-off places along the -coast. The meadows are as green in summer as in -winter, or even greener. For then the sea breeze often -brings heavy showers and storms, and droughts are -seldom known there. I saw an English oak tree in -full leaf in the middle of August—the February of the -southern hemisphere. So valuable is the land, that as -much as 20<i>l.</i> an acre has been given for uncleared land, -and 2<i>l.</i> a year rent—prices almost unheard of in Australia.</p> - -<p>But the pleasantest of all the short journeys to be -made from Sydney is to the Blue Mountains. The -range is not high, in few places, I believe, more than -three thousand feet above the sea; but it is intersected -by very deep precipitous ravines, and densely wooded; -and the chain, or rather mass, of mountainous country -is very wide. It was many years before the early -colonists succeeded in penetrating it and getting at the -good country beyond. Even now there is only one -road and one cattle track across it. After the first -ascent at the Kurrajong the track descends a little, -and then runs nearly level for twelve miles till Mount<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -Tomer is reached, on the highest ridge, beyond which -the water-shed is to the south-west. Here, as at the -Illawarra, occurs one of those sudden changes which -are so delightful in the midst of the monotony of -the bush. The ragged, close-growing, insignificant, -‘never-green’ gum-trees, which, mixed with a few -wattles (<i>mimosa</i>) and she-oaks, are the principal constituents -of <i>bush</i>, give place to enormous trees of the -same as well as of other species. The delicate light -green of the feathery tree-ferns relieves the eye. The -air is full of aromatic scent from many kinds of shrubs, -all growing luxuriantly. Wherever there is an opening -you can see as far as the coast, and for nearly a -hundred miles to the north and to the south, over the -bush you have come through. And seen at a distance, -the poorest bush has a peculiar and beautiful colour, -quite different from anything we see in Europe, a -reddish ground, shaded with the very deepest blue, -often without a trace of green.</p> - -<p>Sheep, it is said, do not thrive east (that is, on the -Sydney side) of the Blue Mountains, till as far north-wards -as the rich valley of the Hunter. As for cattle, -I was told that the quickest and easiest way to get to -a cattle station from Sydney was to take a voyage of -two days and two nights in a steamer to Brisbane, in -Queensland, and thence go a day’s journey by railway -to the Darling Downs. For New South Wales is a -vast country, and distances from place to place very -great. Railways as yet do not extend far. Roads -are very bad, seldom metalled, often only tracks. In<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -the valley of the Hunter, on the great northern road, -a road as much frequented and as important as any in -the colony, I have seen twenty oxen yoked to one -dray to drag it through the mud up a hill which was -neither very steep nor very long. The coaches in New -South Wales, as in Victoria, are all of the American -kind, low and broad, resting on very long leather -straps stretched taut longitudinally, which are the -substitutes for springs. An ordinary English coach -would very soon have its springs broken and be upset. -They generally have (as they need to have) very good -drivers, many of whom are Yankees or Canadians. -The bodily exertion and endurance required for a long -coach journey are not small. The ruts and holes made -by the narrow wheels of the drays are often so deep as -to make it advisable to leave the road for a mile or -two, and drive straight through the bush amongst the -trees. Often the best way of getting through a bad -place is to go at it at a gallop. Everybody holds -tight to save his hat and his bones, and when the difficulty -is passed the driver looks round at his passengers -and asks enquiringly, ‘All aboard?’ The horses, -rough in appearance, possess wonderful strength and -endurance. In spite of all difficulties, four horses will -generally take a heavy crowded coach six or seven -miles an hour, which is quite as fast as it is pleasant -to travel on leather springs and on such roads. They -are often used at first with little or no breaking-in. -One day the driver of a mail coach meeting ours<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -stopped us to ask if we had seen anything of his two -leaders. They had broken loose from the rest of the -team, he said, during the journey the night before, and -got clear away, splinter-bars and all, and he had not -seen or heard of them since.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">AN INSTITUTION OF NEW SOUTH WALES.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">In</span> New South Wales a considerable proportion of the -population is of convict descent. It is impossible to -say <i>what</i> proportion, for the line of separation is no -longer strictly preserved, as it once was, between free -settlers and emancipists; and questions are not often -asked nowadays about origin and parentage. The -tendency of the convicts when they got their liberty -was to go to the country districts, rather than to the -towns. Many became shepherds or hutkeepers on -remote stations. Their children born in the bush -have grown up with less instruction, religious or -secular, often in even worse companionship, and with -a still worse political education, than their fathers. -For who was to look after them? Squatters, even if -they had the will to do so, were few and far between, -and Squatters’ wives fewer still. The Voluntary -System does not supply clergymen where there is no -demand, although common sense and common experience -show that where there is the least demand there -is the sorest need. Those who remain of the convicts -sent from England are old men now, except a few who -have come across from Tasmania, for it is more than a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -quarter of a century since the last shipload of them -entered Port Jackson. But they have left a legacy -behind them which is emphatically the ‘peculiar institution’ of -New South Wales, as distinguished from -the other Australian colonies—<i>Bushranging</i>.</p> - -<p>In the old times bushrangers were simply escaped -prisoners, often desperate ruffians, who took life, when -it suited them, without scruple. Even then they were -not regarded as we regard thieves and murderers in -England. Familiarity with criminals had taught the -more humane among the settlers to consider them as -men of like passions with themselves, and not as only -pariahs and enemies of the human race. I have heard -an eye-witness describe the ‘sticking-up’ of a house in -the country many years ago. One of the bushrangers, -without any warning, deliberately shot a manservant -in the kitchen through the window. The lady of the -house, hearing the report, ran into the kitchen and -found the man badly shot in the arm. The bushranger -who had shot him, instead of setting to work to plunder -with his companions, at once came to her assistance, -obeyed her directions, fetched water, and the two were -amicably engaged for a long time binding up the -wounded limb and assisting the sufferer. The gang -were nearly all taken and hanged afterwards, but I -think the people of this house felt more pity than -satisfaction at their fate.</p> - -<p>Many of the lower class have hardly disguised their -sympathy with these successful outlaws. There is a -tinge of romance about their lives. A bushranger is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -a greater and a freer man than a Hounslow highwayman -of a century ago. He rides an excellent horse, -and leads another by his side. He is armed with a -‘six-shooter,’ and perhaps with a rifle as well. He -has miles and miles of country to roam over, and many -a hut where fear or sympathy will at any time provide -him with food or a night’s lodging. Boys at school -play at bushrangers, and no boy, if he can help it, will -act the inglorious part of policeman. Even the name -of the profession has been dignified by being turned -into Latin. There is an inscription in the principal -church of Sydney to some one <i>a latrone vagante occiso</i>.</p> - -<p>And so it has come to pass that bushranging, which -languished, or was kept under by the help of an efficient -police, for many years, has broken out again -with as great vigour as ever. The country is distributed -between different gangs. I asked the driver of -the Wollongong Mail if he had ever been ‘stuck up.’ -His reply was, ‘Not for nearly a year,’ or something -to that effect. On the main north road, along which -you seldom travel a mile without meeting somebody, -the mail coach was stopped at one o’clock in the day -by a single armed man, who calls himself Thunderbolt, -and carries on his depredations in this district. He -compelled the driver to drive off the road into the bush, -and there deliberately took down the mail bags and -carried them off on a led horse. A few days later he -unexpectedly came upon a policeman, who at once fired -at him. He had just time to cover himself behind a -horse he was leading; the bullet struck the led horse,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -and he escaped on the one he was riding. Less than -three weeks after the first robbery he again stopped -the same mail coach and the same driver, almost at the -same place; this time at night. The account in the -Sydney paper was as follows:—</p> - -<p class="smaller p1">The down mail from Muswellbrook to Singleton, with two -days’ mails, was stuck up by Thunderbolt this morning at -3 o’clock, between Grasstree Hill and the Chain of Ponds. -With the exception of one bag, all the letters were taken by -him. The police are in pursuit.</p> - -<p class="smaller b1">The weather is very warm.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<p>There is an unconscious irony in the way the hot -weather and the robbery of Her Majesty’s mail stand -side by side, as if they were equally every-day matters. -Generally a bushranging story only gets into small -type in a corner of the paper, and very seldom indeed -inspires a leading article. You may sometimes see two -or three such accounts in a single daily paper. The -most formidable gang is in the Lower Murrumbidgee, -and is known as ‘Blue Cap’s’ gang. I should like to -quote unabridged a column of the newspaper in which -some of their doings are described, but it is too long. -It describes<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> how in the course of about a fortnight -they ‘stuck up’ two mails, two public-houses (shooting -at the owner of one, but fortunately not hitting him), -a steamer on the river, and four stations, taking all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> -money, arms, horses, and valuables they found. Only -one man, a mail-man, made serious resistance. He -was mounted, and carried a large duelling pistol in -each sleeve, and a revolver in his belt. Finding he -was outnumbered, he fled, closely pursued by two of -the gang, who soon overhauled him. Pistol shots -were exchanged in quick succession, the horses going -all the time at full speed. In the end, the mail-man, -after wounding ‘Blue Cap’ in the hand, had come to -his last barrel, when his horse fell with him, and he -was at the mercy of his assailants. ‘Blue Cap’ was -for giving him ten minutes to prepare for death and -then shooting him; but his life was spared at the -entreaty of a woman and of one of the gang who was -friendly to him. A very pretty ‘sensation’ story this, -one would have thought, and rather a catch for an -editor. But no; it is a stale subject. And so the -newspaper, for want of something better, had a leader -on the expenses of Greenwich Hospital.</p> - -<p>This wholesale plundering of houses and stations -does not often happen. Operations are nowadays -generally confined to the road. And usually no violence -is offered except in resisting capture. For -unless a bushranger has already forfeited his life by -committing murder he will abstain from taking life if -he can, being pretty sure that for any number of highway -robberies unaccompanied with violence he will -only be punished, at the worst, with penal servitude for -life, and that if he behaves well in prison he may very -likely be at large again in ten years. The owner of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -house which is attacked must resist if he has much to -lose which he cannot spare. But in travelling, people -generally prefer to take little that is valuable with -them, and to leave their pistols at home. For the -bush which borders all the roads, more or less, gives the -bushranger an almost irresistible advantage. He can -choose his own position, and without being seen cover -a driver or a passenger with his rifle or his revolver, and -bid him throw up his arms or be shot, before the latter -has time to get at his pistol. The traveller cannot be -prepared on the instant. To undergo the jolts and -plunges of an Australian coach on Australian roads -with a cocked pistol in one’s hand would be to run a -greater risk than any to be apprehended from bushrangers. -They practise, too, a certain contemptuous -Turpin-like courtesy towards passengers, especially -poor ones and women; and often take nothing but the -mails. And so the actual loss and danger from this -state of things is not so great as might be supposed. But -the insubordinate and lawless spirit of the population, -of which it is the evidence, is a more serious matter. -And it must prevail very widely. A bushranger’s -person and features are generally perfectly well known -in the district where he carries on his depredations. -A large reward is offered for his capture. He could -not get food to support him or clothes to wear without -the connivance of a great number of persons. <i>With</i> -their connivance he often pursues a successful career -for years; and it is often only by a lucky accident -if the police succeed in making a capture.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XI">XI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">POLITICAL DIFFICULTIES OF NEW SOUTH WALES.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">If</span> the British public is as ignorant of other things as -it is about Australia, it must be quite as ignorant a -public as Mr. Matthew Arnold would have us believe. -It appears to be under an impression that Australians -habitually carry revolvers. It has always persisted in -believing that Botany Bay was the place to which convicts -were sent out, and has a misty idea that that much -libelled bay is the port of Sydney. A person at Hobart -Town is requested by an English friend to invite to -dinner occasionally a man who lives at Sydney. Even -Lord Grey invariably spells Port Phillip with one L. -And so on. But the most remarkable blunder I have -seen was made by the <i>Saturday Review</i>. It had an -article criticising the appointment of Lord Belmore to -the office of ‘Governor-General of the Australian Colonies,’ -in blissful ignorance that no such office exists, -or has existed for some years past. The office referred -to was that of Governor of New South Wales. But -it was not only a mistake in a name. The writer laid -so much stress on the paramount importance of the -appointment and the power it conferred, that it is evident<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -that he was under the impression that a Governor -residing at Sydney possesses authority over the other -Australian colonies. I need hardly say that this is no -more true than it is true that the Queen possesses -authority over the United States of America.</p> - -<p>On the all-important land question, legislation has -not been much better in New South Wales than in -Victoria. Here, as there, the ‘Free Selectors’ by -force of numbers can carry elections and bend everything -in their favour. The vicious system of balloting -for blocks of land has not been introduced; for the -extent of the country and thinness of the population -have made the number of applicants for land in any -one district comparatively few. On the other hand, -not merely certain surveyed areas, as in Victoria, but -the whole country, with the exception of small reserves, -is open to free selection at a fixed price at any time. -More than that, if a Squatter wishes to purchase a piece -of his own run, even if no one else has expressed any -desire to purchase it, he must give the requisite public -notice to the Government officer, and then any other person -who does not possess land may step in and buy the -piece at the regulation price in preference to him. Thus, -a Selector, made aware by the Squatter’s notice of the -portion of his run which he values most, may (and -sometimes does) purchase it as a speculation, in the -hope of annoying him into buying him off in a few -years at an increased price. Every Squatter who -leases a run from the Crown is liable to invasion by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -Free Selectors. An abatement of rent is indeed made -in case of land being taken from him, but the compensation -is quite inadequate to the loss and injury sustained. -For the Selector has grazing rights over a -certain area in addition to the fee-simple of his block of -land, and as he is under no obligation to fence, there -is nothing to prevent his stock from feeding all over -the Squatter’s run. I was told that in some districts it -has been found impossible to carry on cattle stations, -and they have been abandoned or turned into sheep -stations, owing to the Selectors. It was notorious that -the latter, having in general little skill in agriculture, -and being far from any market, could exist only by -eating or selling the Squatters’ cattle. Indeed this was -pretty well proved by their often disappearing altogether -from the neighbourhood when the keeping of -cattle was given up. With sheep it is not quite so bad. -They are under the shepherd’s eye, and are sooner -missed. And according to the bush code of morality, -in some districts cattle are almost <i>feræ naturæ</i>, and -taking them is not stealing in the same degree as -taking a pocket handkerchief or even a sheep is.</p> - -<p>A large proportion of the small settlers and Free -Selectors in New South Wales are Irish. The English -and Scotch in the Australian colonies amalgamate -easily. They have no national or religious antipathies -to overcome, and frequently even attend each other’s -churches. The Irish remain apart. They generally -are glad to get a government situation of any kind, and -are said to make very good officials, and they contribute<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -the great majority of domestic servants. One does not -hear of many of them being in trade. The greater -number seem to go up the country, as they are generally -desirous of becoming possessors of land, often in larger -quantities than they can turn to profitable account. -This desire once accomplished, which is a very easy -matter in New South Wales, their ambition seems to -be too readily satisfied. There seems no reason why a -small settler should not earn money enough to live in -comfort and even luxury by occasionally combining -labour for wages with the cultivation of his own land. -But, for what reason I know not, it is seldom that -anything like comfort is to be seen amongst this class -up the country. A man will just run up a rude slab -hut for himself and his family, often with room enough -between the slabs to put a hand through. The roof is -easily made with sheets of bark tied on. Sometimes -there is not even a window, and only one hole in the -roof for the light to come in and the smoke to go out -at. The floor is the bare ground, good enough in dry -weather, in wet weather very likely killing off a child -or two with consumption or rheumatic fever. The -bread they eat is sometimes so bad and so sour that -it is impossible for anyone unused to it to digest it, -though any good bushman can make a damper in the -ashes as sweet and wholesome as possible. Their -mutton is often half wasted, and the rest cooked to the -consistency of leather. The bones are thrown away, -for who ever heard of soup or broth in the bush? It -is too much trouble to grow vegetables. I went to one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -‘accommodation-house’ (an inferior kind of inn), where -there was a cow and plenty of milk, but it was too -much trouble to drive her in to be milked, or even to -tie up her calf so that she might not stray; and so all -the children, two or three of whom were down with the -measles, drank their bad tea, which is the staple beverage -at all meals, and was especially needed here to -disguise the abominable dirtiness of the water, without -a drop of milk to it. Why are not children taught a -little about kitchen economy and cooking at school? -In the bush reading and writing are elegant and refined -accomplishments, useful in their way, but mere ornamental -accessories to a complete education compared -with the knowledge how to make a loaf of bread and -cook a bit of mutton.</p> - -<p>De Tocqueville remarked on the depression and melancholy -expressed on the countenance of the American -backwoodsman and the harassed, prematurely aged -look of the wife. Something of this is to be seen in -the settler in the bush. You seldom see a smile or -hear a laugh. It is not that there is any need to work -harder than is good for health. Still less is there anything -approaching to want. But the great loneliness -is very trying to most minds. I have been told by a -shepherd’s wife that she did not see anyone but her -husband much oftener than once in three months, and -he was generally away all day, and often all night. -Possibly she may have exaggerated a little. But this -was within four miles of a township and a main road. -What must it be in remote districts, where stations are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> -sometimes twenty miles and more apart? Shepherding -is the most lonely occupation of any, and it is said that -a large proportion of the inmates of colonial lunatic -asylums have been shepherds. If you ask anyone not -born in the colony if he or she would like to go home -again, not one in twenty but will wistfully and unhesitatingly -answer ‘Yes;’ though not one in twenty but -is richer and has greater means of living in comfort now -than before leaving home. Not but what it would be -a mistake to make too much of this preference for the -old home. Happy memories live while sad ones perish, -and those whom you ask are old now, probably, and -were young when they were at home, and what they -really mean (though they don’t exactly know it) is that -they liked being young better than they like being -old.</p> - -<p>The Irish here, as everywhere, multiply much faster -than the rest of the population. It is said that at one -time great efforts were made to swamp the rest of the -population with Irish emigrants, and make New South -Wales essentially a Roman Catholic colony. There is -no chance of this happening now; but there is an -element of disturbance and lawlessness in their separate -and sectarian organization which in critical times might -be dangerous, and is at all times injurious to political -morality. Roman Catholicism among the Irish in -Australia seems to be becoming less a Church than a -political society. The priests are said not to be very -strict about a man’s morality, or how often or how -seldom he goes to mass or confesses. If he pays his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -subscription to the priest or the new chapel when he is -asked for it, and votes as he is told at the elections, he is -a good Roman Catholic. It may almost be compared to -the Vehmgericht, the Jacobin Society, the Evangelical -Alliance, the Reform League, or the Trades’ Unions. -For all these have, or pretend to have, a germ of -religion or <i>quasi</i>-religion in them which gives them -their strength and coherence; and all have set up an -authority unrecognised by the law, and have exercised -influence chiefly by open or disguised intimidation.</p> - -<p>Their ecclesiastical organization gives the Roman -Catholics more political power than naturally belongs to -them. A Squatter told me that even the maid-servants -in his house up the country were called upon to pay a -certain subscription, being assessed sometimes even as -high as ten shillings, and woe to them if they refused! -This is what is commonly called the voluntary system, -for the law does not enforce payment, and its advocates -point to the result in triumph. At the elections, if for -any reason it is required of them, they obey orders, and -vote as one man. Any ‘private judgment’ in such a -case would be a grievous offence. A candidate at a -coming election for a town in New South Wales was -once asked for a subscription to a Roman Catholic -charity. He promised a liberal donation, on condition -that the money should not be used for proselytizing -purposes. This, however, the applicant for the subscription -refused to promise—in fact it was admitted -that the money would be so employed—and so the -candidate declined to give it. This was at Sydney.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -A few days later he went to the town where the election -was to be, at some distance up the country. He was -unquestionably the popular candidate, and justly so, for -he had been a benefactor to the neighbourhood. To -his surprise one or two of his supporters came to -express their regret that they could not vote for him, -but assigned no reason. The election took place, and -he was left behind in a small minority. The electors -had obeyed ecclesiastical orders at the poll. They had -not been, in the electioneering sense of the word, intimidated—had -they not had the protection of the ballot, -that infallible nostrum against intimidation?—and they -had voted in accordance with their religious or ecclesiastical -conscience, though against their individual inclination -or judgment. Now they were free to express -their own sympathies, which they did by seating the -favourite but defeated candidate in a carriage by the -side of the successful one, and making him share in -the triumphal progress round the town.</p> - -<p>This sort of influence is in its origin, if not in its -essence, religious, and therefore out of reach of state -interference. But its effect is political, and by producing -a compact and powerful <i>imperium in imperio</i>, -might become subversive of good government to a very -serious extent, under a constitution in which a numerical -majority, however composed, is all-powerful. If a -third of the population, or thereabouts, choose to abdicate -their individual wills and delegate their united -strength to nobody knows who, bishop or conclave or -priest, it may produce very serious political results.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span></p> - -<p>People talk glibly enough about separation of -Church and State as if it were a mere matter of -pounds, shillings, and pence, a very simple connection -capable of being made or dissolved in a moment by -a vote or an Act of Parliament. But it sometimes -happens that a man’s Church allegiance and his State -allegiance are much too intricately interwoven for any -Act of any Parliament to separate. Where a man’s -religious creed (if he have any) centres, there generally -will his political heart be also. The old Whig -notion of a population holding all possible different -beliefs and disbeliefs and yet remaining none the -less cordially loyal to the State, may be a wholesome -ideal for a statesman to have in his mind, but is impossible—even -if desirable—to be really attained. -The ex-Queen of Spain a short time ago sent a -very handsome present of church-plate to the Roman -Catholic Cathedral at Sydney. There was a great -festival of the Roman Catholics on occasion of its -being consecrated or placed in the Cathedral. It -would have been interesting, if it had been possible, to -analyse this <i>rapprochement</i> between Roman Catholic -Spain and Roman Catholic Australia, and to discover -how much was political and how much religious in it. -Probably many an Irishman, if he had been asked, -would have honestly answered that he believed the -Queen of Spain to be the best and noblest of Sovereigns, -and her government the most just, liberal, and -enlightened in Europe; and if an occasion offered -would vote or act in accordance with that idea, as with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -a similar idea the Irish joined the Papal army to fight -the King of Italy some years ago.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, Australia is a long way from Rome, -and it may be hoped that the ultramontane element -in Romanism may give place gradually to a purer -and more enlightened, if less strictly consistent and -logical, secular patriotism. I believe there are some -slight indications of this, here and there, already. -<i>Cælum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt</i> is -a maxim which does not apply so closely when the -voyage is a very long one. But it may perhaps take -a generation or two before any great change takes -place, and in the meantime the element of divided -allegiance is a dangerous one in the hands of the -fanatical or the unscrupulously ambitious.</p> - -<p>A few months ago the Roman Catholic chaplain of -one of the Sydney convict establishments was found -to be systematically inculcating Fenianism on his flock -of gaol birds. He was dismissed. But from the -outcry made in the House of Assembly and elsewhere -about certain formalities or informalities in the manner -of his dismissal, it was evident that the sympathies of -many were with him. This is the more significant, -from the fact that the priests in Ireland have, ostensibly -at least, opposed the Fenian movement.</p> - -<p>Not twenty years ago an Irishman who for a seditious -libel had become acquainted with the inside of a -gaol, and through a technical legal mistake had narrowly -escaped a second conviction, emigrated to Melbourne. -His reputation had preceded him, and he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -was received on landing with an ovation and a very handsome -present of several thousand pounds. In -responding he showed his sense of the course of conduct -which had procured him this popularity, and -announced with emphasis that he always had been and -always should be a <i>rebel to the backbone</i>. Within a -few years he was a member of the Ministry, and holding -one of the most important offices in it. Being now -comparatively wealthy and enjoying a very large pension -for not very arduous services, he has become -rather conservative than otherwise—does not altogether -go with the present Government in the matter -of the Lady Darling vote, for instance—and would -fain have it forgotten, it is said, that he is pledged for -life to ceaseless rebellion.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XII">XII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">ARISTOCRACY AND KAKISTOCRACY.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">The</span> members of the Upper House or Legislative -Council of New South Wales are nominated for life -by the Governor, not elected, like those of Victoria -and Tasmania, by a higher-class constituency. This -plan was adopted by the framers of the Constitution -with the intention of giving it a Conservative character. -The effect has been the reverse of what was -intended. A nominee of the Governor is generally in -reality a nominee of the Ministry for the time being. -Subject to his consent, it is in the power of the -Ministry to swamp the Council by the creation of new -members, and thus obtain a preponderating majority; -and on at least one occasion this has been done. It is -indeed understood that the Governor who gave his -consent much regrets having done so, and it may be -hoped that the experiment will not be repeated. But -the authority of a legislative chamber cannot fail to be -impaired by the bare possibility of such treatment. -Under the most favourable circumstances, the Members, -being nominated for having already attained a certain -position in the colony, are not likely to be very young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -when appointed; and as they hold their seats for life, -it is likely that there will generally be an unduly large -proportion of old men. A Council so constituted, and -having but little prestige of superior birth or education -to support it, is not likely to be a match for a capricious -and turbulent Lower House, borne on the flood-tide of -present popularity, and ever ready to provide for present -emergencies at the expense of the future. Hence -it is not to be wondered at if it does not occupy so prominent -a position relatively as the Victorian Council, -which has lately so firmly and successfully opposed -the unconstitutional proceedings of a Ministry supported -by a large majority of the Lower House, and -by a small majority of the population.</p> - -<p>In answer to a question as to the character and -composition of the Lower House, or Legislative -Assembly, I was told that it was <i>now</i> no worse than -that of Victoria. Probably this was about as much as -could be said for it. The facts which I mentioned in a -former letter concerning the Victorian Assembly may -be an assistance in estimating the force of the comparison. -I may add that since I wrote, one of its -Members has been sentenced to a term of imprisonment -for forgery, and the keeper of one of the most notoriously -disreputable taverns in Melbourne has entered -it, being chosen for an important district in preference -to an opponent who is an old colonist, an educated -gentleman, and a man of unquestionable ability and -integrity.</p> - -<p>One does not, however, hear in Sydney of the wholesale<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -corruption, the taking of palpable 10<i>l.</i> notes, universally -attributed to several legislators of the sister colony. -The present Ministry of Mr. Martin and Mr. Parkes, -in spite of some recent failures in finance, is generally -described by reliable people as about the best since -the existing Constitution came into force; and as the -Opposition is weak, and contains few, if any, men of -ability, the Government can do things pretty much in -its own way. But other Administrations have been -less powerful, and when they felt themselves tottering -have, in order to prolong their lease of office a little -longer, been sometimes by no means fastidious in the -means they employed to obtain support. Different -people were to be conciliated in different ways, and -one of the results was the creation of a certain number -of <i>Windmill Magistrates</i>. Lest the term <i>Windmill -Magistrate</i> should be unintelligible to those who are -not fully initiated into the mysteries of colonial democracy, -perhaps I should explain that there have been -persons aspiring, and not always in vain, to the honour -of being magistrates, whose early education was not -very comprehensive, and who, not being able to sign -their names, were in the habit of affixing their mark x -instead. The supposed resemblance of this mark to -the sails of a windmill suggested the term.</p> - -<p>Whatever be the cause or causes, the Legislative -Assembly certainly is not held in much respect. It is -in vain that its members strive to assert their importance -by voting themselves free passes on the railways and a -Members’ Stand at the races. The leading Sydney<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -paper, ‘The Sydney Morning Herald,’ has been publishing -a series of articles, appearing two or three times -a week, entitled ‘The Collective Wisdom of New -South Wales,’ in which all the bad grammar, bad -language, and extravagant and unbecoming behaviour -of the Members, not mentioned in the reports of the -debates, are chronicled and commented on. The -following observations are from a leading article (not -from one of the series I have alluded to) in the same -paper,<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> which is as temperate and well conducted as -any in Australia:—</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘The specimens we have had of ribaldry and vituperation -are, unhappily, too familiar with the Assembly, and even -these hardly represent what is heard within the precincts of -the Houses. We say, and with much regret, that there are -members pretending to political leadership whose language -would be a disgrace to a stable; who, when excited by drink -or passion, pour out a stream of invective which is not merely -blasphemous, but filthy. They have no hesitation to couple -the names of persons with whom they have had more or less -friendly intercourse, according as the changes of private -interest or political sentiment may permit.... We believe -that such language is rarely heard in British society of the -present day. That it lingers in some parts of New South -Wales is to be traced to causes which we shall not describe -more specially, but which will, we hope, some day disappear. -It is unfortunate when men who have been taught from their -early youth to express themselves in a strain which becomes -too natural by indulgence are in a position to propagate their -example.... We can produce proofs to establish every -syllable we say, namely, that the conspicuous men in the -House, with one or two exceptions, have been for the last -seven years accustomed to speak of each other in such terms as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -gentlemen never apply, and excepting under the power of that -mighty principle which conquers resentment, which gentlemen -never forgive.’</p> - -<p>Here is an extract from a debate in the Sydney -Legislative Assembly:—<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p> - -<p class="smaller p1">‘<i>Mr. M.</i> said that he only knew of one minister who ever -attempted to make political capital out of religious differences.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>An Hon. Member.</i>—Who?</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. M.</i>—The Colonial Secretary.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>An Hon. Member.</i>—“Shut up!”</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Voices.</i>—“Boots,” “laughing jackass,” and other remarks, -the application of which could only be seen by persons actually -present, and the import of which it is hardly worth while to -explain.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>An Hon. Member.</i>—“How’s your nose?”</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. M.</i>—Sir, I am sober; I hope you are.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>An Hon. Member.</i>—“Who?”</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. M.</i>—Is the hon. member addressing me or addressing -the chair?</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. F.</i>—The hon. member is addressing the “jackass.”</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>An Hon. Member.</i>—Is that the “jackass?”</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. M.</i>—I have been told that there are liars and blackguards -in this House, and I believe there are one or two.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. P.</i>—I can see one now.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. F.</i>—I move that the words be taken down.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘The words having been taken down by the clerk, and -handed to the Chairman,</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. G.</i> read—“I see one now.” (Great laughter.)</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. F.</i>.—I have no hesitation in saying that the hon. -member meant to say, and I do not think the hon. member is -coward enough to deny—<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span></p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. P.</i>.—Does the hon. member accuse me of cowardice? -Let him come outside and do it.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. L.</i>—The hon. member does not accuse you of -cowardice.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. P.</i>—I know what he means. Let him come outside -and say it.</p> - -<p class="smaller">‘<i>Mr. H.</i> called attention to the presence of strangers in the -House, and the reporters were again directed to withdraw.</p> - -<p class="smaller b1">‘Up to our going to press, the House continued to sit with -closed doors.’</p> - -<p>As I write, the following account of a debate in the -House, telegraphed to the Melbourne papers, is brought -in:—</p> - -<p class="smaller p1 b1">‘The Opposition prevented a single item of the Estimates -passing last night. During the debate a disgraceful scene -took place. Mr. Forster insinuated that the Premier began -his public career with perjury. Mr. Martin (the Premier) -called Mr. Forster a liar and a blackguard repeatedly. The -galleries were cleared, and the disorder lasted for two hours. -Mr. Martin’s words were taken down, but the Government -members carried the previous question. Mr. Martin then -apologized.’</p> - -<p>Nor do members always confine their abusive language -to each other. It sometimes happens that they -bring charges against persons outside the House which -those persons have no opportunity of answering, and for -which, if false and libellous, no legal redress can be -obtained, as the speakers are protected by privilege of -Parliament. One of the very best and most valuable -institutions of Sydney is the Grammar-school. Unfortunately -there have been disputes about its management, -and it has its enemies. One day a member rose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -in the House and charged one of the masters with -habitually using expressions of the grossest blasphemy. -The accused demanded of the School trustees an investigation. -It was held. The charge broke down -completely, being supported solely by the evidence -of another master who in cross-examination was compelled -to confess himself guilty of a string of deliberate -falsehoods. Yet no retractation was made, no -apology offered.</p> - -<p>This state of things is not cheering. Men of by no -means conservative or retrograde instincts will tell you -sadly that it was not always so, that sixteen or seventeen -years ago, in the days of mixed government, not -only was the colony better governed, but it was in -many respects in a sounder and healthier condition -generally. The wealthy were not so wealthy, but -neither were the poor so poor. There was work for -all who wanted it, and at high wages. Now there is -not a little pauperism and distress. Immigration was -steadily increasing then; now it has almost ceased.</p> - -<p>What is the cause? It is always dangerous to attempt -to couple cause and effect in political matters, -especially when events are so nearly contemporary. -But there can be no doubt that the discovery of gold, if -it has conferred wealth and brought advantages, has -also brought serious temporary disadvantages which -have not yet passed away. It would be hard to strike -a balance between them. The population was greatly -increased. But the whole framework of industry was -put out of gear, and has hardly yet recovered the shock;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -and the stream of immigration was not, as in Victoria, -so great as to give an entirely new character to the -colony and its population, and to build the framework -afresh. It gave, too, a sudden and undue impulse to -extreme democratic tendencies; and I think that the -majority of well-informed men look upon the extreme -democratic character of the existing constitution as -amongst the principal causes of much of the misgovernment -and corruption that exist. There are indeed few -who ever say so publicly, and withstand Demos to his -face; but at least one man, long the foremost champion -of the anti-bureaucratic or popular party, to whom -that party, in the days when they had real grievances -to complain of, owed more than to anyone, has not -shrunk from saying openly what he thinks or from deploring -publicly the evil results of universal suffrage in -the colony.<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>It is bad enough to have bad legislation. But it is a -much worse matter when those who originate it do so -from weak or selfish motives, <i>knowing</i> that it is bad. -In view of much that has been done, it is almost impossible -to doubt that this has not infrequently been -the case of late years in some of the Australian colonies, -when we consider the comparatively high intellectual -abilities of some of the leading statesmen, and consider -also the notoriously low character of the various Legislative -Assemblies with which they have had to deal. I -believe the worst measures, amongst which the land-laws<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> -are pre-eminent, will in general be found to have been -simply bids for popular support at the expense of -common sense, common honour, and common patriotism, -by men clinging selfishly to office for its own sake, -and indifferent to the ultimate consequences of their -policy.</p> - -<p>In Tasmania things are not so bad. And that -colony is at the present time singularly fortunate in -possessing a Colonial Secretary whose name is a guarantee -of fair and honourable dealing in the conduct -of public affairs, who, unlike too many Australasian -Colonial Secretaries, does not live with the love of -office and the fear of Demos ever before his eyes. But -the religion of Demos is not without a footing even -there. I will give an instance, slight in itself, but significant. -The Tasmanian climate does not admit the wine -being made. Beer is made, but it is almost as dear as -imported English beer. There is no cheap beverage, and -as the climate (compared with that of England) is hot -and dry, it would be a great boon, one would think, to -be able to get the excellent, cheap light clarets and -hocks of New South Wales. Unfortunately, there is -an import duty of eight shillings a dozen, which, added -to other charges, is, of course, simply prohibitory. -Customs’ revenue is sorely needed, as the returns have -been falling off alarmingly for some years; and it is -indisputable that a reduction of the duty on light wines -would increase the amount of revenue from that source. -But Demos does not drink light wine. His particular -libation is rum. And so it is admitted that no one could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -venture to propose the reduction, because Demos, -though his own pockets would gain by it, would raise an -irresistible outcry at anyone getting wine cheap which -he does not care for, unless at the same time the duty -on rum were lowered, which the revenue cannot afford.</p> - -<p>Great is the god Demos of the Australians! He is -lavish in his rewards to his votaries while his favour -lasts. But he is fickle, and must be humoured to the -top of his bent, and worshipped with unswerving -devotion. As long as statesmen bow at his shrine, so -long will there be danger that Legislative Assemblies -will be contemptible, individual members corrupt, -magistrates incompetent, and the mass of the people -tempted to lose reverence and regard for Queen, -country, and law; so long also will successive ministries -be compelled to go from bad to worse, to foster -class prejudices and jealousies, to persistently misstate -points at issue between them and their opponents, as -the Victorian Ministers are doing at the elections now -going on; so long also will their supporters not shrink -even from exciting sedition by using language like -the threat uttered the other day by the ministerialist -candidate for North Gipps Land that ‘the crack of the -rifle may yet be heard beneath the windows of the -Legislative Council.’</p> - -<p>Some day or other, it may be, the question will -be asked, Who destroyed a great empire? Who prematurely -broke, or indolently suffered to be broken, -a dominion that might have endured for generations? -It will not, indeed, be easy to apportion the blame<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -justly. Doubtless it would have been as practicable -to dam up the river Hawkesbury in flood as to -have simply defied the torrent of popular impulses in -Australia. But all need not have been given up without -a struggle. Something might have been saved, as -by a little courage and skill a homestead here, an acre -of corn there, is rescued from the flood. A Pitt, a -Cromwell, even a Wellington with his simple straightforward -love of good government in any form, would -surely have done, or at least tried to do, something, -whether popular or unpopular, to secure the ‘carrying -on of the Queen’s government’ firmly and honestly -in her Australian colonies. But for the last sixteen -years or so, since the old traditions of the conservative -party have been abandoned, and it has been bidding for -popular support by seeking to outdo its opponents in -democratic concessions, the government of Australia -by the Colonial Office has been gradually tending to -become a simple ‘cutting of straps,’ and attempting, -with very little regard to ultimate consequences, to -please everybody, and fall in with the popular cry for -the time being, whatever it might happen to be.</p> - -<p>It is true that there were no aristocracies worthy of -the name in the Australian colonies in whom a restraining -power could be reposed (although in Victoria an -aristocracy of mere wealth—perhaps the least desirable -form of aristocracy—has by its representatives, the Legislative -Council, just made a conspicuously steadfast -and honourable stand against lawlessness and wrong). -But surely some substantial power might have been left<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -to the Governors. It would not have been difficult to -have established some plan for so doing, with which the -great majority of the colonists would have been well -satisfied. It has been suggested to me by one who -has had great colonial experience that the simple -expedient of giving the Ministry for the time being -<i>ex-officio</i> seats in the Legislative Assembly, would have -had considerable effect, especially in the less populous -colonies, in increasing the political influence of the -Governor.</p> - -<p>If this is not apparent at first sight, a little consideration -will perhaps make it so. It must be remembered -that in a colony where the population is comparatively -small and public questions less numerous and intricate -long parliamentary experience and skill in debate are -not so absolutely essential to a Minister. It is quite -possible that the fittest man to be Colonial Secretary -or Treasurer may have had neither the opportunity -nor the desire to obtain a seat in the Parliament; for -the worthiest and fittest men have ordinarily little -temptation to seek for one. Under the present system -the Governor’s choice of Ministers is practically confined -to those who are in parliament. But if Ministers held -seats <i>ex officio</i>, the Governor might choose anyone he -liked and seat him at once. No doubt the Houses -must so far ratify the Governor’s choice as to give his -Minister a majority, otherwise he could not carry his -measures or remain in office; and this would suffice to -prevent any specially unpopular man or policy from -being put forward. But, in the first place, the mere<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -addition of from three to seven votes in a House of from -thirty to seventy members would be some slight addition -to the strength of Government. This, however, is but a -small matter. What is more important is that it would -do much to prevent the growth, and to interfere with -the organisation, of a merely factious Opposition. This -sort of Opposition, based, as is generally the case in the -colonial parliaments, on no sort of political principle, -but cohering merely with the selfish and almost avowed -object of seizing an opportunity for ousting Ministers -and occupying their places, is a serious impediment to -good and honest government. It is always on the -watch to catch any passing breeze of popular clamour -as a means of tripping up the Government, and the -Government is in self-defence obliged to be equally -amenable and subservient. When the Administration -appears strong, and seems likely to remain in, the -Members of the House crowd their ranks for the sake -of the loaves and fishes; and the Opposition is left -scarcely strong enough to exercise legitimate control -over the expenditure. But when the loaves and -fishes are nearly all gone, and especially if there is any -suspicion of ministerial insecurity, there comes a serious -defection from their supporters. Thus the Opposition -may be composed chiefly of disappointed deserters from -the other side, and in a small colony may sometimes -contain scarcely a single man of weight or ability, or -who is in any way fitted to be entrusted with office. -Yet it is worth while for them to persist and to watch -their opportunities, for sooner or later every Ministry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -must fall, and under the present system the Governor -has no choice but to send for the leader of Opposition, -or, in the absence of anyone entitled to be so considered, -for the mover of the motion the success of which has -caused the crisis. Now the effect of giving <i>ex-officio</i> -seats to Ministers would be this. The knowledge that -the Governor might, if he thought fit, make his next -selection of advisers from outside Parliament altogether, -would make the objects pursued by a merely factious -Opposition too uncertain of attainment to be worth -contending for with such persistence. The prospect of -being possibly left out in the cold altogether would -weaken their cohesion and diminish their strength; -while to a corresponding extent the Government would -be strengthened, and would be better enabled to -dispense with those means of conciliating their supporters -which are so fertile a source of one-sided class-legislation -and of corruption.</p> - -<p>In its Colonial Governors, England possesses a body -of tried and faithful servants in whom it may well -place confidence. Many of them have had experience -and training from their youth upwards in the work of -governing. The Home Government can select them -from any profession; it can appoint them on the simple -ground of fitness without any arbitrary or technical -qualification; it can recall them at its pleasure. Gentlemen -by birth and education, many of them picked men -from the army or navy (almost the only callings in -modern times where men learn to obey, and therefore -the fittest for learning to command), impartial upon the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -petty local questions which vex colonial statesmen, -they are (with an exception here and there) eminently -well qualified for governing new and unsettled communities, -and in three cases out of four infinitely -superior in ability, as in everything else, to the -Ministers whose advice they are now obliged to follow. -Of course, there have been exceptions, and because of -them no one would for a moment wish to see restored -the almost absolute power which Governors possessed -in the very early days when they had no one to rule -over but soldiers and convicts. But surely it was a -fatal mistake by a stroke of the pen to limit the functions -of the not unworthy successors of the Phillipses, -the Collinses, and the Bourkes, to holding levées and -giving balls.</p> - -<p>Sir Charles Hotham, when Governor of Victoria, -foreseeing what would happen, when some modifications -of the Constitution were sent home for ratification, -wrote a despatch pointing out the powerless condition to -which his authority was being reduced. It was not perhaps -altogether a logical or judicious despatch. Sir -Charles Hotham was a sailor, without any previous experience -in government, promoted from the quarterdeck -to a most difficult and responsible position, at a -most critical time; and it was not surprising if he had -not thoroughly mastered the intricate clauses of a Constitution -Act. But if Lord John Russell (then at the -Colonial Office) had wished to discredit the Queen’s -Representative, he could hardly have done it more -effectually than he did by publishing the despatch, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -be a butt (which at that time, from its Conservative -tone, it was sure to be) for the vituperation of the -colonial press.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> Up to this time the Colonial -Governors had found it impossible to obtain from -the Colonial Office at home even an outline of the -course they were to pursue with reference to the -new Constitutions. No instructions whatever were -vouchsafed in answer to their enquiries. But at last -the Secretary for the Colonies had spoken out. There -was a significance about the publication of this despatch -which could not be mistaken. Sir Charles Hotham -died a few months afterwards, worn out by overwork, -anxiety, and hostility on all sides. And since that -time every Governor in a constitutional colony knows -that his office is all but a cipher, and that the Colonial -Office is content to have it so.</p> - -<p>I have known a Governor ask his Ministers for a -simple Return, for the information of the Home Government, -for three years, without succeeding in obtaining -it. Even their social power is curtailed. Marks of -distinction, instead of being conferred according to -their recommendation, are given at haphazard, often to -the most unfit recipients. Perhaps as effectual and -desirable a means, as far as it goes, of preserving a -close union and sympathy between the colonists and the -old country would be to induce the sons of colonists -to serve in the British Army and Navy. It was -accordingly suggested that Governors should have the -power of recommending for a certain number of commissions.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -The Home Government approved, and -expressed its approval by according to each of the -Australian Governors the astonishing privilege of -presenting to <i>one</i> cadetship in the Navy <i>once in three -years</i>!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIII">XIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">There</span> exists in England a school of politicians, or -economists, which considers it desirable that the Australasian -colonies should at once, or before long, be -cast loose from the Mother-country. There are doubtless -some amongst the colonists who are of the same -opinion; but I believe that they are very few in -number, and that it will be England’s fault, more than -that of her colonies, if—in our day at least—the Empire -is broken up.</p> - -<p>Of course it is easy to point to mistakes made by -the Home Government in the old days when it had all -the power and responsibility in its own hands. And -since self-government has been accorded to the colonies, -faults of a different kind have been committed on both -sides. Latterly, and while Administrations in England -have been displacing each other so rapidly, and -throwing out feelers for all the support they could get, -there has been an increasing disposition to yield indolently -to every passing cry of the hour with too little -regard to ultimate results, and sometimes to the discouragement -of the most loyal, temperate, and far-seeing -among the colonists. On the other hand, the colonists<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -have now and then shown themselves eager to claim -the privileges without bearing the responsibilities of -Englishmen.</p> - -<p>Chief amongst vexed questions, in old times, was -that of transportation. For many years there was -frequent vacillation in the policy of the Home Government. -Each new Head of the Colonial Office had his -own plan to carry out, and the consequence was either -to flood the colonies with convicts, or else to stop the -supply too abruptly. One unfortunately expressed -despatch was misunderstood, and gave rise, not unnaturally, -to a charge of breach of faith with the inhabitants -of Van Diemen’s Land.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> The excessive and -unreasonable number of convicts which had been -poured in upon them gave the Tasmanians just cause -for protesting as they did (not unanimously indeed, -but by a large majority) against the continuance of -transportation in any form to their own shores. But, -on the other hand, it gave the Victorians no excuse for -so unreasonable a demand, as that it should cease -thenceforward to all Australia, lest a stray convict -should escape now and then to their own colony. -Western Australia, for instance, has an impassable -desert between it and any other colony, and communication -by sea is very infrequent; and its free inhabitants, -like the free inhabitants of most of the other colonies in -their early stages of development, have been asking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> -for convicts as a boon. And there is still an enormous -amount of coast-line and territory unsettled, where it -is very probable that convicts may, at some future -time, be an advantage. It is unreasonable that colonies -should claim to draw from the able-bodied and -politically untainted population of the Mother-country -just as they choose; that they should have the power -to bribe them out, or discourage their coming, just as -it happens to suit their ideas of what will benefit themselves; -and yet that they should exclaim against taking -at least their share of the criminally-disposed, or even -pauper, part, which their vast extent of country renders -comparatively innocuous, and for the amelioration of -whose condition it affords such advantages. It is as -unreasonable and selfish and ‘colonial’ (to use the -word in the bad sense which it sometimes bears in -Australia), as if Torquay or Madeira were to refuse to -admit consumptive patients among their visitors, or -Belgravia object to afford a site to St. George’s Hospital.</p> - -<p>If the wishes or demands of the colonists were in old -times treated with too little consideration, the reaction -has been excessive. When the colonies were given -up under their new Constitutions, almost without reserve, -each to its own local government, the arrangement -under which it was effected was a most one-sided -one. In its origin Australia, taken as a whole, is -essentially a Crown settlement. But for Captain -Cook, a king’s officer sailing in a king’s ship, and but -for transportation, which followed soon after, it might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -not have held an Englishman till half a century later; -or it might have been a French possession, as the -Middle Island of New Zealand was within six hours of -being. Phillip, Hunter, Collins, Flinders, Bass, the -early heroes and discoverers of Australia, were king’s -officers, military or naval. Millions from the Imperial -treasury were spent in wharves, lighthouses, roads, -bridges, public buildings. With this money, and by -convict labour, was the country made habitable and -valuable. Even Victoria, though no convicts ever -were sent direct to Port Phillip, was colonised from -New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land, and it -was by convict shepherds that it was first made productive -and opened up—of which the discovery of -gold was the consequence. All the public works, and -the whole of the territory of each colony, occupied or -unoccupied, surveyed or unsurveyed, were surrendered -as a free gift. I say as a gift; for that a quarter or -half a million of inhabitants should assert an exclusive -claim to millions of acres never utilised and hardly -explored, would be about as unreasonable as was John -Batman’s claim to possess all the shores of Port Phillip -because he was the first to pitch his tent there. What -the value of the Crown lands thus given up may amount -to in fifty or a hundred years it is impossible to give -the wildest guess, but at any rate it will be measured by -hundreds of millions. And for all this the only obligation -given in return was the annual charge of the -Civil List—a mere payment to the Governor and his -staff. And even this has sometimes been grudged.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -The payment to the Governor of Victoria was reduced, -and an attempt has lately been made to reduce that to -the Governor of Tasmania, with as much reason as if -half the price of a horse were to be claimed back by -the buyer years after it had been bought.</p> - -<p>Nor was any pledge asked or given that Australian -markets should be kept open to English manufactures. -The result already has been that one colony after -another has been establishing and increasing protective -duties, which as respects some articles are almost prohibitory -to English goods. The only stipulation made -was that duties charged to England should be charged -equally to all the world, so as to let in English manufactures -on the same terms with foreign and those -from other colonies. Even this it is now sought to -have relaxed, so as to establish intercolonial free-trade, -in which the Mother-country is not to be admitted to -share.</p> - -<p>But there is no use in dwelling too long on past -mistakes. As to the future, I must confess myself -unable to understand how any Englishman could fail -to feel it as a deep disgrace, if, unsolicited and for the -sake of any real or imaginary commercial advantage, -or from sheer laziness and unwillingness to bear an -honourable responsibility, we were to renounce our -inheritance in our colonies. Great as the loss would -be to us, to them it would assuredly be far greater in -every respect. Without the protection of a strong -naval Power they would be simply at the mercy of the -first powerful fleet and army which France, Russia, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -the United States might send to take possession of -them. The smallness of the population, the extent of -coast, and the wide distances between the few large -towns, would make defence, however resolute, against -any considerable force altogether unavailing. The -gold-mines of Ballarat and Bendigo and the copper-mines -of Burra-burra are as rich and tempting to an -invader as anything in Siberia or Persia, or in Algeria -or Mexico.</p> - -<p>No doubt it is possible that a Federation or union -of some kind might be devised, not under the British -Crown, but having an alliance offensive and defensive -with it. But it is difficult to conceive of any such -which would last. If Australia were to enter into -distinct diplomatic relations with other Powers, European -or other, it would soon become impossible for us -to take up their quarrels, or for them to take up ours. -As their union would not be very close, their policy -would not be likely to be a very steady or consistent -one.</p> - -<p>For the climate of different parts of the continent -differs widely, the productions are increasingly different; -hence, and from many other causes, men’s habits, -ideas, and tastes tend to divergence rather than to convergence. -Already there are occasional manifestations -of antagonism between some of the different colonies, -which, though slight and comparatively harmless under a -common but separate allegiance, might become more -serious between members of a Federation. It was a -good joke, and not an ill-timed one under the circumstances,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -for Melbourne, before Victoria was a separate -colony, to elect Lord Grey as its representative to the -House of Assembly at Sydney, by way of a hint that -it really was time for them to be a colony by themselves. -But it is a little too much, now that it has been all -settled to their satisfaction years ago, and Melbourne -has long since shot ahead of Sydney in population and -importance, to keep ‘Separation-day’ as a general -holiday and day of rejoicing, as if New South Wales -were the one thing on earth from which they were -thankful for deliverance. Such manifestations do not -bode well for future union.</p> - -<p>If anyone wishes to form a conception of the -narrowing and deteriorating influences which must -exist, even under the present or the most favourable -circumstances, in a colony, for instance, of the size of -Tasmania, let him imagine the inhabitants of any -English provincial town amounting to nearly a hundred -thousand, spread over a country as big as Ireland, and -encircled by a wall through which there can only be -communication perhaps twice a week with two or three -neighbouring provincial towns, and only once a month -with the rest of the world, from which, too, all communications -must wait seven weeks till they are delivered. -Would Nottingham or Bristol, or even Birmingham or -Manchester, be likely to contribute much to the enlightenment -of mankind under such circumstances? -People in England do not realise what drops in the -ocean of territory the Australian populations are. The -wonder rather is how <i>much</i> intellectual energy there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> -is, and how favourably the population of many of the -colonies would compare with that of many manufacturing -towns at home. But of those who now go to -Australia from England, an overwhelming proportion -are from the labouring or comparatively unlearned -classes. The proportion of clergymen, barristers, and -university men who go out now is very insignificant -compared with what it once was, and anything which -caused it to diminish still more would be a misfortune. -Local interests and local connections make it difficult -for an emigrant from England any longer to compete -in the race with the colonial-born in any profession -with much chance of success. It was my good fortune -to be present at a gathering at Melbourne of all old -Oxford and Cambridge men who could be collected. -There were about thirty present. They included the -Governor, the Bishop, two or three leading politicians -of the Opposition—the rest chiefly professors, clergymen, -barristers, squatters, or doctors. Considering its -small number it was a remarkably influential group. -But I was struck with the regretful but unhesitating -opinion expressed, that the number was likely to -diminish rather than to increase, especially in the ranks -of the clergy. In all the professions this is to be -regretted, and amongst the clergy more particularly, -because it is upon them as a class that any narrowness -or incompleteness of education tells with most fatal -effect. There are indeed both at Melbourne and at -Sydney, Universities, which as far as I could judge are -excellently managed and liberally supported, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -unquestionably contain professors of the very first rank -of ability. But it is impossible for any colonial -university, in the midst of a small society in which -almost all interests are swamped in the overwhelming -one of commerce, to carry education to a very high -point. A few people who are particularly anxious for -a good education for their sons, send them home for -five or six years; but most are content with a colonial -university for them, and often remove them when they -are still almost boys.</p> - -<p>There are many causes to account for the diminishing -supply of well-educated clergymen from home. A -clergyman’s position in a colony is very different from -what it is in England. For liberty and subsistence he -is more at the mercy of others. To a certain extent -(to what extent I do not know) there are fixed stipends -attached to parochial cures, but in the absence of a -regularly established and endowed Church, the clergy -are likely to be much more than in England dependent -for subsistence upon their popularity. Many high-minded -clergymen are naturally reluctant to put themselves -in a position where their very bread may depend -upon their catering successfully for the tastes of their -parishioners, and where they would be constantly under -the temptation to devote their energies merely or chiefly -to exciting or amusing their hearers once a week. The -fixed annual grants originally given out of the State-funds -to the clergy are being gradually withdrawn, -either ceasing with the lives of the present holders, or -having been commuted for a lump sum paid to a trust-fund.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -In one township in New South Wales it was -satisfactory to find that the inhabitants had insured the -life of the present incumbent, with whom ‘State-aid’ (as -it is called) was to cease, and were paying the annual -premiums, so as at his death to have a sum to invest -in trust for his successors—to endow a living, in fact.</p> - -<p>Happily for its peace, representatives of the extreme -religious parties of the Church are rare in Australia. -An underpaid and overworked clergy has not either -time or money to spare for imitating Roman Catholic -vestments or Exeter Hall invective. The Scotch often -join in helping to build an English church, and are -regular attendants upon its services. Hence, fortunately, -it has seldom if ever been necessary to ascertain -what the exact legal status of a clergyman of the Church -of England in the various colonies is—how, for instance, -and for what, and by whom he is removeable—and I -never could get any very clear account of it. I believe -it is at the present time somewhat undefined and uncertain. -Ecclesiastical synods are held from time to -time, and (especially at Sydney) seem to do a good deal -of business, and to be possessed of considerable responsibility -and power. But in general the bishop of each -diocese appoints the clergy to their cures, and has, I -believe, the absolute power of removing or suspending -them. The bishops are naturally unwilling to exercise -this last power except for flagrant moral offences, and -for causes in which they and the parishioners interested -concur. But it is a power so obviously liable to abuse -that the right of appeal from it seems indispensable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span></p> - -<p>All these difficulties and evils are likely to be -increased by separation from the Mother-Church at -home. In Victoria the clergy almost without a dissentient -voice subscribed to the earnest protest which -was sent to England against any scheme of Church -separation. Religious and ecclesiastical isolation is -worse than secular in the same degree that religious -and ecclesiastical life has a greater tendency than -secular to narrowness and intensity. I cannot but -think that the separation of the different colonial -churches from the English Church would be a wilful -removal of a precious safeguard against religious -ignorance, bigotry, and intolerance, and that the substitution -of the final authority of local synods or bishops -or parish-vestries for that of the wide but definite limits -of the Articles, interpreted by that bulwark of the liberty -of the English clergy, the Judicial Committee of the -Privy Council, would be, not to give liberty, but to -bind on the clergy heavy fetters and grievous to be -borne.</p> - -<p>I cannot conceive it possible, as some do, that political -and ecclesiastical separation could fail to promote -isolation of ideas, to diminish the flow of intercourse -and sympathy, and to breed jealousies and heartburnings -between the new country and the old. The Mails -might go as often, ships and steamers be as numerous, -and commerce carried on as before. But if commercial -intercourse unites countries in the bonds of peace and -mutual interests, it also, when pushed too eagerly and -too exclusively, may rouse the spirit of covetousness,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -selfishness, jealousy, and division. Those who have -leaned upon commerce as a sufficient means of bringing -peace and good-will upon earth have, sooner or later, -found that they have been leaning on a broken reed. -A glance at Australia will show how little ‘well-established -and enlightened commercial principles’ are -carried out by those who fancy they can gain a temporary -pecuniary advantage by repudiating them.</p> - -<p>That the attachment to the Old Country and to the -Crown is strong, is abundantly evident everywhere. -It is stronger of course with the English-born than the -native-born, and hence it is particularly observable in -Victoria. It is seldom that even the most contemptible -demagogues venture to trifle with it. Amongst other -small items of English news, the Mail once brought -word that a leading Oxford Professor was going to -leave England and settle in America. Such a thing -would scarcely be noticed in an English newspaper, -but it was thought worthy of being announced amongst -the items of intelligence telegraphed from Adelaide in -advance of the mail-steamer, and was alluded to by the -leading Melbourne paper with a shout of satisfaction. -Yet the paper had no complaint to make of him except -one. He had made himself conspicuous amongst those -who have declared themselves in favour of turning the -colonies adrift.</p> - -<p>It is in the nature of things almost inevitable that -the second generation of a colony should be inferior to -the first. The struggles and hardships which pioneer -settlers have to encounter constitute a discipline and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -confer an experience such as scarcely any other life -can afford, and are a great contrast to the routine life -and physical comforts to which the next generation -succeeds. These old colonists, too, have had an old-world -training in addition to the experience of the -new. They know well how much they owe to having -been born and bred amongst the historic monuments -and associations of the old country of their forefathers, -and that it is not mere foolish sentiment that binds -them to it. None feel so keenly how real and not -sentimental is the loss which their children suffer by -being removed from and in part deprived of them. -None regret so bitterly the relaxing and severing of -bond after bond, or (if it were in danger) would cling -so closely to the last but strongest bond of all—allegiance -to the English Throne.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XIV">XIV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">HOME AGAIN.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">The</span> voyage home from Australia is a less easy and -pleasant one than the voyage out. Owing to the prevalence -of strong westerly winds for the greater part -of the year in the South Pacific and Southern Indian -Ocean, homeward-bound ships almost invariably sail -eastward round Cape Horn, though the distance that -way is greater, instead of westwards by the Cape of -Good Hope. In rounding Cape Horn they must go -to at least 56° south, and these latitudes have a disagreeable -reputation for heavy gales, fogs, icebergs, -and intense cold. To get amongst the icebergs in a -fog, and with half a gale of wind blowing, is a very -serious business indeed; and in spite of the utmost -precaution many good ships have had hairbreadth -escapes in this part of the voyage. During January, -February, and March, indeed, the westerly winds are -not so regular—old Horsburgh noted this fact as -much as fifty years ago—and a Melbourne ship now -and then manages to get round Cape Leeuwin and -to the Cape of Good Hope. And ships sailing from -Adelaide, being already so far to the west, attempt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -this course at all times of year, so that you may get -a passage home by the Cape by sailing from hence. -But it is a tedious voyage at best. A hundred days -is a quicker voyage this way than eighty days by -Cape Horn.</p> - -<p>Then there is the way home by New Zealand and -Panama, which takes about eight weeks from Melbourne. -And, lastly, there are the Peninsular and -Oriental Company’s mail-steamers, which are in correspondence -with the Calcutta and China mail-steamers, -which they meet at Galle; and this is the quickest, -the most interesting, and, from October to April, the -pleasantest way of going.</p> - -<p>Punctually to the hour the anchor of the trim little -<i>Bombay</i> is got up. A Peninsular and Oriental steamer -scorns the contact, it seems, of almost any wharf but -that of her own native Southampton, and waits with -proper dignity in mid-harbour to take in her passengers -not only at Melbourne, but even at Sydney, the starting-place -of her voyage. So there is no shore-tackle -to be loosed. In an instant the powerful screw is -revolving, making the whole ship quiver and vibrate, -the water in the glasses spirt up and spill, and the -passengers at the saloon-table shake and nod over their -luncheon as though they had the palsy. For the -last time we pass through Port Phillip Heads, and -steer straight across the Australian Bight.</p> - -<p>One more glimpse of the new Southern world we -have before striking straight across the Indian Ocean -to the old Oriental one. At sunset about five days<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -after leaving Melbourne the land is in sight again, and -soon after the distant glimmer of the lighthouse which -stands on a little rocky island at the mouth of King -George’s Sound. In a few hours we enter the Sound, -a large harbour or bay, land-locked except to the south -and south-east, embraced by a confusion of long -irregular promontories and islands between which the -eye cannot distinguish, and bare of tree or house to -disturb their undulating outline. So white they look -in the moonlight, that they might be bare chalk hills, -and even by daylight it is difficult to make out that it -is only pure white sand which covers them. A few -lights on shore ahead of us are the only sign of life. -Even the pilot seems to be asleep, for we have to burn -blue-lights and rockets to summon him as we steam on -at half-speed. At last he comes on board, looking -very sleepy; we enter the inner harbour, the anchor -drops, and the twelve hours’ work of coaling is at once -begun, and goes on continuously throughout the night.</p> - -<p>Daylight reveals that in all the great natural harbour -there is only one sea-going vessel, the Adelaide -packet, which has come to meet us. There are still -three or four hours left, and we land in one of the -boats on the pretty sandy shore, and make our way -through low scrub towards the settlement. The -flowers are lovely, especially a large brilliant red -bottle-brush, and a handsome white flower growing on a -bush with slimy sticky leaves, which is the fatal poison-plant, -or one of them, which has been so injurious to -Western Australia, by poisoning the sheep and making<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -the land valueless for grazing. As for Albany, the -settlement, it is a pleasant, cosy little village of wooden -houses, with three or four superior habitations for the -Government officials and the Peninsular and Oriental -agent; and considering that it is on a splendid harbour, -and situated in the extreme corner of a great continent, -it is about as quiet, dull, lifeless, and unprogressive a -place as can well be conceived. For what is there to -be done there? The climate is said to be particularly -charming, but the soil is so poor and sandy that even -the few hundred inhabitants can scarcely grow food -for their own wants. There is an establishment of -convicts here, and they are to be seen doing such work -as can be found for them; and in one respect it is -a good place for them, for there is little chance of their -escaping. From the top of a hill we could see to a -great distance inland, but there is scarcely a sign of -habitation or even a large tree to be seen. The -nearest station is fifty miles off, and Perth, the only -considerable town, two hundred and fifty. The road -to it is plainly visible for miles and miles, stretching -straight across the plain. The native black-fellows -frequent the place, and are to be seen more in their -original condition here than in most other parts of -Australia—repulsive-looking, dark-brown figures, their -hair and bodies smeared with grease, boomerangs and -spears in their hands, and opossum skins sewn together -hung on them as on a clothes-horse, and making a poor -apology for clothing.</p> - -<p>It is hard to understand how the settlement contrived<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -to exist at all before the days when the Peninsular and -Oriental steamers made it a coaling-station, and a place -for meeting the Adelaide steamer. But it is an old -settlement, as I was reminded in a very unexpected -and startling way by an object that I should as soon -have expected to see in Belgrave Square as there—a -common parish <i>Stocks</i>, in perfect repair!</p> - -<p>But at noon the <i>Bombay’s</i> gun booms over the dead -silence of the sunny landscape, as a signal to go on -board again, and we take our last look at Australia. -In the <i>Bombay</i> one seems to be already almost in India. -The ship’s company are a medley of races from Europe, -Asia, and Africa. The officers of course, and the -quartermasters, and a few more, are English. But -the great majority are black or bronze-coloured. The -captain has a boat’s crew of nine fine sailor-like Malays, -who cannot speak a word of English. Amongst -the stewards in the saloon are two or three pure African -negroes, and very good servants they are. The firemen -and stokers are long, lean, gaunt, black Abyssinians. -The rest of the crew is perhaps made up of Lascars or -other natives of India, small feeble-looking men, whom -one sees eating their meagre fare of rice and curry, -half a dozen of them squatting on the deck round a -bowl of it, into which they dip their long bony fingers. -They have to make up by their numbers for their -want of muscle. To see a dozen of them pulling at a -rope you would think each of them was afraid of breaking -it. It is a sight to see all the crew mustered on -Sunday morning for inspection on the after-deck,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -ranged in order according to their different departments, -and each dressed in his cleanest and best. -Side by side with the English sailor’s dress are turbans, -and tunics of green, red, or yellow silk, and bracelets, -and all the brilliant colours of Oriental costume. Yet -all this heterogeneous crew is in perfect discipline. -The orderliness, cleanliness, and smartness of the decks, -and of everything on board, is a great contrast to the -ordinary condition of a merchant ship, and comes very -near to that of a man-of-war.</p> - -<p>It is about a fortnight’s run from King George’s -Sound to Galle. Every day the heat sensibly increases. -It is hotter, it seems, in the Indian Ocean -than on the Atlantic. One day the thermometer on -deck, with a double awning above, stands at 91°, and I -cannot discover that there is any artificial heat to affect -it. In the cabin it is about 87°, but with the ports -open, and a wind-sail to direct a current of air in upon -the berths, sleep is not difficult. The Lascars in their -scanty linen clothing, who have been huddling miserably -round the funnel for warmth, now squat on the deck -and play at cards, flinging them down with great animation -when their turn comes to play; but they still -keep near the funnel as a pleasant friend and neighbour. -Down the stoke-hole, where the Abyssinian firemen feed -the fire, the thermometer is said to stand at 156°—I did -not go down to try—and one of the long gaunt black -figures, with scarcely a rag of clothing on and shining -with moisture emerges to the upper regions from time -to time, and a bucket of water is thrown over him to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -revive him. The mysterious little pulley-wheels near -the saloon ceiling are explained now; for punkahs are -put up, and little bronze-faced boys in white shirts and -trousers squat in pretty attitudes, exactly like the -figures which support French lamps, and pull away -patiently at the punkah-strings to make the heat -more tolerable for those who are sitting at table. The -flying-fish know their latitude to a degree, and make -their appearance as soon as the tropic is entered. -But they are not so numerous as in the Atlantic, or else -the steamer scares them away. One flying higher than -usual and losing its presence of mind strikes one of -the ship’s officers on the head, nearly knocking him off -the bridge where he was walking, and breaking its own -head with the force of the shock. Day by day the sunsets -grow more gorgeous, and the crimson and purple -lights on the calm oily water more dreamily beautiful. -The concavity of the crescent moon turns more and more -upwards till it is cup-like and horizontal. The Great -Bear reappears, but in humble fashion close to the -horizon, and draggling his poor dear tail in the water -as if half ashamed, and languishing in these hot southern -latitudes. At last a penknife stuck in the bulwarks -at noon casts no shadow; for we are leaving the -Southern Hemisphere.</p> - -<p>One morning the screw has stopped, and the sun -rises, and the morning mist lifts, to show us an open -bay into which the surf dashes unrestrained, and which -is fringed on one side with a thick wood of cocoa-nut -palms and tropical undergrowth, with here and there a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -bungalow or a little hut, while on the other side of the -bay a road runs along the base of stone-faced ramparts -covered with the freshest, greenest turf, and leads up to -a seventeenth-century gateway, by which a crowd of -people are passing in and out. Within the walls are -the red and purple tiled roofs, and strong tropical lights -and shadows of Galle. It is an exquisite scene to wake -up to from the formless solitude of mid-ocean. Paddling -round about the vessel are swarms of small craft, -barge-like boats, and long picturesque canoes scarcely -more than a foot wide, made of a hollowed tree, and -balanced on the tossing swell by a small beam fastened -parallel to them by outriggers six or eight feet long -and resting on the water. They are manned by natives -vociferously vending newspapers, fruit, or trinkets, or -bargaining to take passengers ashore.</p> - -<p>Ashore all go as soon as possible, and through the -gateway, and up a street shaded by a green avenue, -till the great Oriental Hotel is reached, the large broad -verandah of which is crowded with people in all the -strange costumes and head-gear of Anglo-Indians, -talking, flirting, smoking, eating, drinking, bargaining, -and abusing the (at this time of year) more than Indian -heat. They are passengers going to, or returning -from, India and China. For Galle is the Rugby -Junction of Anglo-Asiatic traffic, where the China -and Australia steamers disgorge their passengers into -the larger vessel from Calcutta and Madras—many -rills flowing into one stream—and there are often -a couple of days to be spent here waiting—days inexpressibly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -full of interest and enjoyment to those to -whom the scenes of India and of the tropics are new -and unfamiliar.</p> - -<p>The streets are full of natives, clothed or half-clothed -in white or coloured cotton dress. The driver of your -hired carriage who sits close in front of you is perhaps -bare to the waist; but the dark-brown colour of his -skin prevents you from being keenly alive to the fact, -and you are not much impressed with any deficiency -in his apparel. Men as well as women wear their -black hair long and tied in a knot, or confined by -tortoiseshell combs. Indeed the general appearance -of men and women is so much alike that at first sight -one is almost puzzled to distinguish them. A lady -lately arrived at Galle, talking to a friend who had -been much in her house and knew all about her establishment, -happened to mention her ayah. The friend -expressed surprise, as he did not know she had an -ayah; and after explanation, and summoning the -servant in question, she was made aware that her -servant was a man, and had never pretended to be -anything else, though he had been acting as nurse, and -washing and dressing the baby for a week or two.</p> - -<p>Crowding round the verandah of the hotel is a host -of importunate vendors of tortoiseshell, baskets, ivory -boxes, and jewellery. As regards jewellery there is -ample scope for their roguery, which is without limit. -A fellow will ask you fourteen pounds for what he -calls a real sapphire ring, and gladly let you have it, -after a little bargaining, for two shillings. Europeans<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> -take unblushing rascality of this sort as a matter of -course, and treat it, not with indignation, but with -contempt. Even in a few hours one can understand a -little why the natives are so often treated by Europeans -much in the way that a good-natured man treats a -useful dog.</p> - -<p>The hotel is a great building, with the bedrooms for -greater coolness separated by partitions reaching only -part of the way to the ceiling, so that a word or a snore -is sometimes audible in every room from one end to the -other of the long corridor; and many are the reproaches, -expletives, bolsters, boots, and other missiles, which -are flung over the partition at anyone who offends in -this latter particular. In some of the private houses -the doors are for the same reason made so as to come -within a foot of the ground, and consequently when -anyone is coming into the room there is ample time -and opportunity for inspecting his or her feet, &c. -before any other part of the person is visible.</p> - -<p>The heat does not admit of much going about in the -middle of the day; but towards evening you can drive -beyond town and suburbs, and see the palms on each -side bending over the road, and the rich swampy soil -teeming with rank vegetation, and feast your senses -on the often-described wonders of a tropical climate. -Beautiful as it is, it is not to be compared for beauty -(one is told) with the interior. And there is no time -or opportunity for seeing that, for punctual to its day -the great black hull of the steamer from Calcutta and -Madras, which is to pick up all the passengers for Suez,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -rounds the point and enters the bay, and by daybreak -next morning she is off again.</p> - -<p>A huge monster she is of two thousand six hundred -tons or thereabouts, with a charming long flush deck -from bows to stern of immense length. She is cram-full; -for it is the end of March, and all Indians who -can get away—officers, civilians, invalids, and young -children—are on their way home before the hot season -sets in. Some cabins have been reserved for passengers -waiting at Galle, and we from Australia are a -not very welcome addition to the already large number, -and are probably set down as at best successful diggers, -and as most likely holders of tickets-of-leave. But -with or without tickets-of-leave we soon shake down, -and get on pretty well with each other, for there is -no room for quarrelling. There are some five hundred -human beings on board, of whom more than half are -passengers, and of these above fifty are children. -They are pale, sickly, quiet little beings, these children, -or one does not know how the ship would hold them, -for they are under little or no control. Often half a -dozen or more have been confided to the care of one -invalid lady, who has about enough to do to take care -of herself. As for the ayahs, of whom there are -plenty, they have not a shadow of authority over their -charges, and submit as a matter of course to thumps -and abuse in answer to their feeble threats and entreaties.</p> - -<p>It is worth while to stroll over the ship about midnight, -when everyone has settled down for the night.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -The season is not yet advanced and hot enough to -oblige everyone to sleep on deck, but on the after-deck -under the awning are perhaps twenty men-passengers -asleep—some on mattresses brought up from -their cabins, others on the benches or on cane lounging-chairs. -Forward, near the funnel and galley and on -the forecastle, the bright moonlight shines upon bodies -lying as thick and as motionless as on a battle-field -after a battle—some wrapped head and all in their garments -of white linen or coarse cloth, some in their -natural bare black to the waist, some huddled together, -head to feet, in groups, and some alone, and all without -the slightest regard to whether they are in the gangway -or not. In the saloon, on the tables, or on the -narrow benches, with one leg on the table to keep them -from rolling off, lie white-shirted and white-trousered -stewards; and on the floor at their mistresses’ cabin-doors -are prostrate ayahs, so exactly in the way that -in the half-light one almost has to feel for them to -avoid treading on them in passing. On the lockers in -the stern are a few children and an ayah or two; but -the head-quarters of the children are down below on -the lower-deck, where they are laid out by dozens on -the table, on cushions, shawls, and anything that comes -to hand, while over them the punkah, its strings connected -with the engines, fans the air steadily the whole -night through. And all seem to sleep peacefully and -even comfortably each after his fashion, for the north-east -monsoon is just dying away, there is not a wave -to stir the ship, and every port and scuttle to within<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -two or three feet of the-water-line is open to admit the -air.</p> - -<p>We carry on the monsoon till Cape Guardafui is in -sight; then comes a strong south-east breeze heavy with -moisture blowing up the gulf, and on the morning but -one after, the rising sun lights up brilliantly the red -and yellow mountains which stretch across the little -peninsula of Aden, rising up behind it in high peaks -and ridges abrupt and sharp and serrated like the -Dolomite mountains of the Tyrol. And in an hour or -two the <i>Tarus</i> drops her anchor within a quarter of a -mile of the shore, among steamers and ships of war and -transports on their way to Annesley Bay to feed the -Abyssinian Expedition, now near its goal at Magdala.</p> - -<p>Like King George’s Sound, Aden is an isolated -corner of a continent, cut off by deserts from land-communication -with the outer world of civilization, and -important only as a refuge or coaling-station for shipping. -Wild tribes of Bedouins are the only inhabitants -of the deserts which bound the peninsula, and for -some years after our occupation of it they made repeated -attacks upon us; and strong fortifications, garrisoned -chiefly by Bombay sepoy regiments, now -guard the small space where it is possible to penetrate -the strong natural defence of the mountains.</p> - -<p>And the impression of strange wild primeval desolation -is increased as we land. Moist as is the air in the -gulf, the atmosphere of Aden itself is as dry as can be -conceived, and tempts one, protected by a green veil -and an umbrella, to ride or walk, or even run, in spite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -of the fierce sun which blazes out of the unclouded -sky. Scarcely a morsel of vegetation, not a blade of -grass is to be seen, only at rare intervals in the sand -a leafless shrub. For at Aden not a drop of rain falls -often for years in succession, though the mountain-peak -not four miles from the harbour is capped with cloud. -Water is supplied chiefly by distillation from the sea, -and also from huge tanks. We drive to see them, passing -strings of camels, and tall, dirty, melancholy, scowling -Arabs, and a wretched Arab village of huts of mud -and straw like a warren of ill-instructed rabbits, and -turn up a hill through fortifications and covered ways -hewn in the rock, where white-coated sepoy sentinels -stand on guard, and down on the other side to the cantonments -and to the Arab town of Aden itself, for -where we landed is not Aden proper but the Bunder or -port. They are a strange memorial of the past, those -tanks. They are hewn out of the solid rock one above -another in a steep gulley of the cloud-capt mountain, -from whence at long intervals torrents of water -pour down and fill them. Tradition assigns them an -origin anterior to the time of Abraham, but there is -no fragment of sculpture to help to give them a date; -they are only huge irregular basins in the rock, capable -of holding from a quarter to two or three millions -of gallons each, and for centuries were almost choked -with rubbish, till within the last few years our Government -has cleared them out and made them available -again.</p> - -<p>Early the same afternoon we are steaming away<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -again for Suez, and at midnight pass through the Straits -of Babel-mandeb. The little island of Perim divides the -straits into two. We pass through the eastern and narrower -passage, which is not much more than a mile wide, -and by the bright moonlight both the island and the -Arabian coast are clearly visible. A few years ago, -when the importance of the position of the island first -became apparent, and while consuls and envoys were -busy discussing to whom it belonged—for it was then -uninhabited—the English quietly took possession of it, -and are now admitted to have thereby acquired a good -title to it. An officer or two and about half a company -of troops from Aden are located on it as garrison, and -considering that it is perfectly bare, without an inhabitant -or a tree, or a blade of grass, or a hill, or water, -or, I believe, any animal except rats, and in a climate -like a furnace, it must be about as unpleasant a prison -to be confined in as well could be found anywhere.</p> - -<p>And now we are in the much-dreaded and famous -Red Sea. Dreaded it justly is on account of the terrible -heat there during the summer months. A captain -now on another station told me that when on this line -he sometimes lost passengers (most of them invalids, -probably) at the rate of one or two every day. Why -the heat is so intolerable is not very clear, as the -actual temperature by the thermometer is never remarkably -high—nothing like so high as in many other -places where heat is not much complained of. Fortunately, -we are too early in the season to suffer from -it, and it is scarcely so hot as before reaching Aden.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -The strong north-westerly breeze too, which almost -always blows down the sea, meets us and refreshes us. -How the navigation was ever performed before the -days of steam is a marvel. One of the steamers once -fell in with a sailing-ship bound from Aden to Suez, -and <i>seventy-five days out</i> from the former place, all the -crew ill or dead with heat, and only the master and -one boy available for duty.</p> - -<p>The narrowness of the sea and the dangerous coral -reefs which lie on either side, and on which so many -fine steamers have been stranded, make all vessels -keep to one uniform course straight up the centre of -it, out of sight of land on either side. Every day -some huge steamer—more often there are two or -three—passes with its living freight. For the first -time we fully realise what a mighty highway of the -world it is. Year by year the long sea-passage by -the Cape to India, is less and less followed. Even -troops now often take the overland route, and if ever -the Suez canal is opened to vessels of large tonnage, -the change will be greater still. After centuries of -disuse, the old, old road from Europe to India is open -again with a hundred times the traffic and importance -that it ever had before.</p> - -<p>Once only does our vessel pause. A suffering -invalid, hoping in vain to reach home alive, has died -during the night. In the morning the burial-service -is read over the coffin wrapped in a Union-jack, and -from a large port on the saloon-deck forward it is -lowered gently into the sea; and after scarce five<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span> -minutes’ interval, the engines throb again, and the -screw revolves, and the resting-place, unknown and -unmarked, is left behind.</p> - -<p>On the sixth day from Aden we are in the gulf of -Suez. To the east is a flat coast, and beyond is the -range of Sinai, scarcely visible. On the west are -sandstone cliffs of brilliant red and yellow contrasting -exquisitely with the bright blue sky, and lighting -up at sunset with the warmest and most gorgeous -colours. But we are in Egypt now, and English -painters as well as writers have already made the rest -of our journey familiar ground, and in their presence -it is becoming to be silent. Not that the sights and -interests and pleasures of the homeward journey are -by any means exhausted yet, or that what is still to -be seen loses by comparison with what we have passed. -Those who are not pressed for time may stay a week -at Cairo, and taking the Southampton instead of the -Marseilles route, may also stay at Malta, and during -the few hours spent at Gibraltar, walk over the rock -and town; and from the vessel’s deck as she proceeds -see the pretty Spanish and Portuguese coasts for much -of the way from thence to Cape St. Vincent.</p> - -<p>Melbourne, King George’s Sound, Galle, Aden, -Suez, the Pyramids, Alexandria, Malta, Gibraltar, -Southampton Water. What a list for nine weeks’ -luxurious travelling! A fresh country about once -a week, a fresh continent, almost, once a fortnight!</p> - -<p>Truly a P. & O. steamer is a wonderful institution, -worthy to take a high place among the unquestionable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -successes of the last thirty years. Once, in Tasmania, -in a remote little bay of D’Entrecasteaux’ channel, I -came across a man getting his living laboriously by -hewing timber in the bush. He told me he had worked -in the gang which turned the first sod (or nearly the -first) of the new docks in which the first P. & O. -ships were cradled. One man sows and toils that -another may reap. Few reap so richly, so abundantly, -in these days, as those whose time and means enable -them to travel on freshly made tracks to see the glory -of a new world.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XV">XV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">CHANGE OF AIR.</span></p> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">As</span> travelling becomes easier all over the world, an -increasing number of people who suffer from English -winters are tempted to migrate annually in pursuit of -sunshine and a more genial climate. Formerly fewer -pleasant places were accessible, and there was comparatively -little choice; and as to keep a consumptive -person warm through the winter was supposed to be -the one thing needful, little attention was paid to other -peculiarities of climate. It is only of late years that -doctors have become fully alive to the very different -effects produced on invalids by much the same temperature -in different places. Experience has shown that -warmth is by no means the only point to be considered. -People who coughed all day and all night at Nice have -altogether ceased to cough when they went to Pau, where -it was quite as cold. On the other hand, it was found -that some people got ill at Pau who were ill nowhere -else. Madeira, where it is <i>never</i> cold, is going out of -repute as a place for consumptive patients; and to the -utter astonishment of everybody, it was found that -consumptive people who spent a winter in Canada -not only did not die immediately but got better.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -Climates came to be divided into moist-relaxing, as -Madeira, Pisa, and Torquay; dry-relaxing (<i>sedative</i>, -I believe, is the correct word), as Pau; exciting, as -Cannes and Nice; and so on. Doctors became more -discriminating in different cases, as far as their geographical -knowledge enabled them. But they have something -better to do than to go about sniffing the air and -observing thermometers and anemometers and hygrometers -in half a dozen South-European or Devonshire -watering-places. They are obliged for the most part -to judge of them from the reports of the local doctors -at each place, each of whom is likely to be a believer -in his own particular place, and directly interested in -making it popular.</p> - -<p>And if doctors are compelled to speak with diffidence -in distinguishing between European climates, what -must their perplexity be when they recommend to -their patients, as they often do now, and as I hope -they will do more and more, a voyage to Australia? -If Cannes has been confounded with Caen, is it surprising -if Tasmania should be dimly believed to be one -of the West India Islands? What they do know, -because they can see that for themselves, is that in cases -of threatening consumption, or weakness following an -illness, a marvellous change for the better, and often -complete cure, is the effect of a voyage round the -world. How much of that is due to the sea-air and -sea-life, and how much to the land-air and land-life of -the Antipodes, they have seldom any means of judging; -and still less can they know of the differences in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -climate between different places in Australasia. An -invalid fellow-passenger of ours was furnished with -two medical books on the climate of Melbourne, one -all praises and encouragement, the other all depreciation -and warning. He used to read them alternately -in such proportions as to keep his mind in a just -balance between hope and fear. Poor fellow! the -laudatory book had to come out by itself for a long -time, though I think the other appeared now and then -when we had been some time in the tropics.</p> - -<p>As for the voyage, three months in circumstances -inducing the most complete inanition of body and -mind of course may, or may not, be desirable. For -those who are very weak, either from disease or from -overwork of body or brain, I suppose nothing could be -more beneficial. Such do not feel the want of bodily -exercise and mental occupation which to a more -vigorous man is so depressing. It is pleasant to see -them, their thin, pinched features gradually relaxing, -welcome each day which takes them farther south, -discard wrap after wrap, and note down each degree of -northern latitude sailed through, till the tropics are -reached; where in a temperature seldom varying by day -or night beyond a range of from 81° to 85° they breathe -the open air throughout the twenty-four hours, with -no more exertion than mounting the companion-steps -from the berth by the open port in their cabin, to the -easy lounging chair under the awning on deck. True, -it is a damp heat, and at night it is sometimes soaking -wet. Toothache and neuralgia attack you now, if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -ever they do, and you probably feel limp and lazy and -head-achy, and disgusted with everything in the ship -except your bath; but the damp does not give cold at -sea in the same way as it would on shore, unless anyone -is so foolish as to sleep on deck. Nothing can be -better for the invalids for the first six or seven weeks -of the voyage, and till the tropics are left to the north. -But not long after that comes the inevitable and often -sudden change. As you get to about 35° or 40° south, -the strong westerly winds begin to blow. The ship’s -course generally touches 45° south, and runs nearly in -that latitude for two or three weeks. Doctors and -other people at home do not know how much colder -45° south is than 45° north. If, as is pretty sure to -happen sooner or later, the wind blows a little from -the southward, it may bring sleet and snow with it, -and the air may be at 40° or lower for days together, -with half a gale of wind blowing all the time to prevent -any mistake about how cold it is. It needs no description -to give an idea of how dangerous or even fatal -this may be to a sick man fresh from his boiling in the -tropics, with no fire (probably) in the ship at which he -may warm himself, yet for ventilation’s sake forced to -open window or door from time to time, and to be -hustled everywhere, except in bed, by a tempest of -draughts. Nor is it possible to escape the cold by -timing your departure from England so as to do this -part of the voyage in summer. It is more or less cold -here all the year round. All things considered, August, -September, or October are perhaps the best months to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -begin the voyage. The English summer is over then, -and the coming winter may be cheated.</p> - -<p>But much more benefit, I believe, is to be got by -invalids from the air of Australia than from the life on -board ship. The authorities are now pretty well -agreed that, at any rate for consumptive patients, a dry -air is the first essential. The statistics, if they are -worth anything, go to prove that in England consumption -is prevalent or rare in proportion as the soil and -situation are light, dry, and high, or, on the other hand, -heavy, damp, and low, and that temperature is of -secondary importance. Now the Australian air is -peculiarly dry—drier than anyone who has never -been out of England can well imagine. A new comer -from Europe cannot fail to be struck by its exciting, -invigorating effect. Considering how great the heat -sometimes is, it is astonishing how little it is felt, and -how little enervating it is. In the hottest weather the -perspiration is absorbed by the air almost immediately, -so that the skin is always almost dry. Those who -ride about in the heat all day feel it less than those -who stay at home. The sun has power even in winter: -it is seldom clouded except when rain is actually falling; -on the hottest days there is generally a breeze, and -indeed the greatest heat comes with the strong hot -winds. I never felt any air like it except perhaps that -of the Egyptian Desert.</p> - -<p>Still it cannot be denied that there are few, if any, -places on the mainland where the climate is pleasant -all the year round. The way to enjoy the country<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -luxuriously is to migrate with the seasons. Some -people indeed like great heat and are all the better -for it, and these may do very well in the interior of -Victoria or New South Wales all the year round. -But except at a few places in Gipp’s Land, and elsewhere -at a great elevation above the sea, the summer -is too hot to be pleasant. The burnt-up grass and -vegetation are dismal to look at. The dust is abominable, -and the flies sometimes almost amount to a plague. -There is no place which is not more or less liable to -hot winds, which blow violently from the interior for a -day, or two days, at a time, laden with dust, and producing -a temperature in the shade often over 100°. -These hot winds are not so bad as might be supposed -from the degree of heat, but still they are not pleasant; -and they cease very suddenly, so that the fall of temperature, -especially near the coast, is very great in a -short time. I have heard of a fall of 44°, from 106° -to 62°, in two hours at Sydney. Near the sea-coast, -especially the eastern coast, the air is often cooled by -the sea-breezes. At Sydney, for instance, it is not -nearly so hot as in the interior. But, strange to say, -the cool sea-breeze, instead of being invigorating, is in -the long run enervating; and though a stranger at first -rejoices in it, it is dreaded by the inhabitants in general, -and is the principal cause of the situation of Sydney -being less healthy and less bracing than that of most -other places in the comparatively temperate parts of -Australia. Sydney is, on the whole, to be avoided by -those who are fastidious as to climate, except in winter—that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -is, in June, July, and August, when it is delightful.</p> - -<p>Nor is Melbourne a very pleasant or healthy place -in which to spend either winter or summer. It is more -agreeable in either spring or autumn. The hot winds -of summer and the cold winds of winter are alike disagreeable -there. And if, by any chance, there is a -day without wind, fog and smoke will sometimes hang -over Flinders Street and the low plain stretching towards -the bay, making <i>longo intervallo</i> an imitation of -a London fog. The hospital was crowded with consumptive -patients while I was there; but it would not -be fair to lay too much of this to the charge of climate. -Ill built houses account for much. The comparatively -small number of days on which rain falls and the rapidity -with which the ground dries make people careless -about making their houses waterproof, or draining them -properly. Kitchens and servants’ rooms are sometimes -separated by an open roofless space from the rest of -the house, and on rainy days constant wet feet and -damp clothes are the consequence. Much illness, too, -must be attributed to the bad drainage of Melbourne. -A new-comer is at first delighted with the clear running -water which is always flowing down the gutters of -the principal streets, like Hobson’s Conduit at Cambridge. -But if he passes by at night his nose informs -him that the once limpid stream is neither more nor -less than the common sewer of the houses on each -side. There are no underground sewers. The rush of -water in the hilly streets after heavy rain is so great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -and sudden that it has been hitherto found impracticable -to construct any sewer which would stand against -it without bursting. I believe projects are on foot for -an effective system of drainage; the Victorians are -never sparing of money for public works. But as yet -Melbourne is as ill-drained as almost any city I ever -saw inhabited by Englishmen, and if cholera or any -other bad epidemic ever reached Australia the consequences -might be fearful. Even the abundant supply -of water, which is such an inestimable advantage in all -other respects, makes the evil worse. For before it -was obtained, the dry air and especially the hot winds -acted as effectual deodorizers by drying up all that was -disagreeable, and preventing any effluvium from it. -Now there is too much dilution for this to happen, and -in parts of the town are to be seen green pools of -liquid, poisoning the surrounding air.</p> - -<p>Of the climates of Adelaide and of Queensland I cannot -speak by experience. From all accounts Adelaide -is charming in winter, but in summer even hotter and -more burnt up than either Sydney or Melbourne. -Brisbane is very hot indeed, almost tropical. But the -Darling Downs, high rolling sheep country a couple of -hundred miles inland from Brisbane, are said to be in -winter charming beyond description; and judging by -the experience of a delightful fortnight spent in winter -near Scone, two or three hundred miles to the south of -them, I can well believe that the winter there affords -a type of all that is most charming in Australian air. -You have a hot unclouded sun warming you through and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> -through, and raising even the shade temperature to perhaps -70° or 80°; the air never stagnant with the mournful -stillness of an English autumn day, but stimulating -to exercise, and fresh and bracing beyond what can be -conceived in England; boundless open grass country -over which you may ride all day on horses that never -tire; at night stillness, and perhaps a slight frost, which -makes the Squatter’s blazing wood-fire grateful; and -after a day of perfect bodily enjoyment, you totter off -with winking eyes to sleep not the restless sleep of the -sickly and feeble, but the sound sleep of the tired and -strong.</p> - -<p>Of the general attractions of Tasmania I have already -spoken, and incidentally of those of its climate. It -may be described as midway between the English -and the (mainland) Australian, and consequently far -pleasanter than either. There are the hot sun, dry air, -almost constant breeze, cool nights, sudden changes, -and comparative rareness of frost and snow, of Australia; -but hot winds are almost unknown there, the sky is -more often clouded, and the spring and autumn months -are sometimes tempestuous and comparatively cold. -The extent of deeply indented sea-coast, and the -differences of level in different parts of the country, -produce a considerable variety of climate within a small -compass. At Hobart Town invalids sometimes suffer -from the sea-breeze, which after a hot morning in -summer generally blows somewhat keenly in the afternoon, -coming up with remarkable regularity at about -one o’clock. But a few miles inland its keenness is no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -longer felt. In summer Tasmania is a delightful refuge -from the heat of the continent. The winter there, -though colder than that of Victoria, is far warmer, drier, -and, above all, lighter and sunnier, than that of any place -in England.</p> - -<p>I do not wish to disparage European refuges from -English winters. But my belief, founded on my own -experience, is that in most cases infinitely more benefit -is to be obtained by invalids from the Australian than -from any European climate. And climate is not the -only thing to be considered. What is more depressing, -more humiliating to one who seeks to be free, as far as -poor humanity may, from the trammels of enfeebled -flesh, than the daily routine of a <i>poitrinaire</i> at a winter -watering-place;—the club room, the tittle-tattle of -politics in which he is never likely to take an active -part, the still more insipid gossip about other peoples’ -affairs, the whist by daylight, the weekly weighing to -see if flesh is being made or lost? Compare the net -result, mental and physical, of a continuance of this -sort of life with the rich harvest of memories gathered -in from a sight, however limited, of the new southern -world. Six months’ absence from a profession and from -ordinary occupations is in many cases fatal to an -immediate resumption of them, and little would really -be lost by extending it to a year and a half, which -would give ample time for a visit to Australia. The -time might be distributed thus: Leaving England -by sailing-ship in August or September, and arriving -in Melbourne in November or December, a traveller<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -might spend the summer in Tasmania, the autumn in -Victoria, and the winter and spring in Queensland and -New South Wales, returning to Melbourne some time -in the second summer, and sailing thence so as to get -home again before the English summer begins. In -this way both cold weather and also extreme heat will -have been avoided, and two English winters missed. -If the whole of the second summer can be spared for -going to New Zealand so much the better, or if the -mail-steamer’s route by way of Galle be taken, a short -stay in India during the cool season may be made. -Whichever way home is chosen, a much pleasanter -voyage may be anticipated if it is begun during the -summer months—that is, between the beginning of -November and the end of March; for by Cape Horn -the cold, by the Red Sea the heat, and round Cape -Leuwin and the Cape of Good Hope the adverse winds, -become worse as the year advances.</p> - -<p>For the reasons already given country life is almost -as preferable in regard to health in Australia as it is in -England. Those who are not strong enough to travel -about much will generally do best to take up their -quarters in the country wherever they may have friends -or acquaintance. A very slight introduction will -procure a very warm welcome everywhere in Australia -to any traveller from home. Home has only one -meaning there, and long may it keep that meaning. -There is no hospitality more readily and kindly -proffered and more delightful to accept than that of -the Bush. Its simplicity is a pleasant change after the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -sometimes excessive luxury of English country life. -Bed, board, and a horse are at your service; and -for sitting-room there is the ample verandah with its -wooden or cane lounging-chairs, where air, and light, -and sun, will put new strength and vitality into you, -if anything will.</p> - -<p>Light and sunshine—that is what a weakly man -gets in Australia far better than anywhere that I -know of in Europe. Perhaps he does not think much -about it at the time; but after he is home again, -and is groping or shivering through his first English -winter, he begins to realize the blessings he has been -enjoying.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVI">XVI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">A PLEA FOR AUSTRALIAN LOYALTY.</span></p> - -<p class="smaller">[The <i>Spectator</i> of May 23, 1868, contained a letter signed -‘An Australian Cynic,’ and also an article founded on it, -commenting on the extraordinary outburst of excitement and -indignation at Sydney occasioned by the attempted assassination -of the Duke of Edinburgh, as manifested in the passing of -the Treason-Felony Act and in other ways. These manifestations, -and the attitude of the Australians generally on the -occasion were attributed to a ‘starved appetite for rank,’ and -censured accordingly.</p> - -<p class="smaller b1">The following Letter was written to endeavour to show that -this view of the case was a mistaken and impossible one. The -succeeding Letter was an answer to the reply of the <i>Spectator</i> -that the view of loyalty implied in my first Letter was itself -impregnated with ‘veiled cynicism.’]</p> - - -<p class="noindent p1"><span class="smcap">Your</span> last number contains a letter from ‘An -Australian Cynic’ commenting upon the exhibition of -feeling shown in Australia after the attempt to assassinate -the Duke of Edinburgh. It also contains an -article on the same subject, the writer of which would -hardly, I should think, object to being called an English -cynic. It seldom happens that English newspapers -find space to notice Australia, or that English people -care to make themselves acquainted with Australian<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -affairs; and it is unfortunate that when notice is taken -of them, the occasion should call for severe not to say -contemptuous, censure. Still, let censure fall where -censure is due, even though it come under the questionable -guise of cynicism. Better too much blame -than too little.</p> - -<p>But I must confess that to me the spirit which has -been shown on this occasion, so far from seeming contemptible, -has appeared, on the whole, in the highest -degree creditable. I have little hope of being able to -bring over you or any of your readers to my way of -thinking. Nevertheless, as Australia cannot answer -for itself in less than three months, I will endeavour to -put the case in the light in which it strikes me.</p> - -<p>We Englishmen at home are of all men most devoid of -imagination. We spend our lives on soil teeming with -tradition, where the very shape or colour of every -brick and stone tells its story of the past, and may be -a silent but ever-present reminder of some especially -honoured friend or hero, some favourite struggle lost -or won. But we do not know how much these associations -are bound up with us; we cannot tell, till we -try, how ill we can dispense with them. I do not believe -we have the least idea of the fidelity with which -Australians preserve old memories; how tenaciously -they cling to their right of inheritance in the history -of the past. At first it may be that an emigrant is -altogether engrossed with the occupations of the moment. -He must get his bread; he must strike his -roots into the new soil; he has no time to sit down and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -think. But as he grows older, when he finally makes -up his mind to make the new country his home, old -memories and old attachments return with immense -force. An old weather-beaten settler, who after a life -spent in hardships at last sees his children growing up -about him in prosperity and comfort, will look at them -proudly, yet half sadly, knowing that he has within -him an inheritance which he can transmit to them only -in part, doubting whether after all a dinner of herbs -amongst the old scenes and the old traditions, sustaining -(so he fancies) the old beliefs, is not better than a -stalled ox without them. No one who has not experienced -Australian hospitality can imagine the jealous -care which they take of a chance visitor from England, -how distressed and almost angry a settler will be if a -visitor, although an utter stranger, puts up at an inn -instead of going to his house. And as you talk to him, -the chances are he will speak sadly, even bitterly, of -the carelessness, the indifference of people at home to -their Australian Colonies. They do not know even by -name one colony from another. Melbourne and Sydney -are set down as places where a revolver is as necessary -as an umbrella in London; their populations as composed -mainly of convicts, runaways from Europe, dishonest -demagogues, or merchants who care to remain -only till they have made their fortunes. But what he -will complain of most bitterly is that a school has -grown up in England which says, ‘Let the Colonies -go. All we want of them is wool and gold. All they -want of us is a market. What we both want is wealth.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -We can get this as well separate as together, perhaps -better. Traditions, loyalty to the throne, willingness -to share danger as well as security, war as well as -peace, with the old country—all this is sentimental -rubbish. We have almost got rid of this sort of -thing at home, they must have quite got rid of it at -the Antipodes.’</p> - -<p>This, I believe, is false slander. As such, I believe -it has been felt, and felt keenly, by the vast majority -of Australians. Can you, then, wonder that when the -news came that the Queen was sending out one of the -Princes, not selfishly, for his own benefit or for that of -the Crown, still less to confer any mere <i>material</i> benefit -on the Australians, it came to them like a chance -offered to a maligned man to clear himself from a false -charge—like light thrown on a dark place? And so, -when the Duke, after weeks and months of expectation, -at last arrived, it did not matter whether they did or -did not find him all that they thought an English -Prince would be and ought to be; it did not matter if -he disliked politics, was bored by balls and ‘functions,’ -was indifferent to the beauty of the country. -They refused to look a gift horse in the mouth. He -was the Queen’s son; that was enough. They would -do him all possible honour, and so prove that they were -loyal Englishmen, and cared for Queen and country as -well as gold and wool.</p> - -<p>And when the news came that the Duke had been -shot at and wounded on their own shores, every one in a -strange way seemed to take it to heart, to be struck<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span> -with shame and dismay, as though he himself were in -part guilty of the crime. The terror of having to -bear, as a body, the guilt of one wretched man excited -them almost beyond belief. At Hobart Town—distant -as Tasmania is from the scene of the occurrence (I -quote from a hurriedly written letter just received)—</p> - -<p class="smaller p1 b1">‘A meeting was convened within an hour of the arrival of -the news by telegraph; it was attended by every class and -sect in the community. The large town hall could not contain -the assemblage; they therefore gathered outside. The first -proceeding, before any resolution, was to call for the substitution -of the Union flag for the municipal one. Then, regardless -of order, but with the order inspired by a common sentiment, -the vast crowd struck up the National Anthem. The effect -drew tears from many eyes—the <i>effect</i> in part, the <i>earnestness</i> -with which, under the circumstances, the Anthem was given -forth by those who joined in it, melted them into weakness. -And a second time in the course of the proceedings the same -<i>irregularity</i> was indulged in, without its being possible for any -one to say that anything irregular was done—the ordinary -and decorous modes of expressing popular feeling were insufficient -to give utterance to that by which all were <i>possessed</i>. -We burned with loyalty to the Crown and country, intensified -by shame and indignation that the act of one bad man had -made it necessary that we should wipe away reproach or -suspicion from us. I am not guilty of exaggeration when I -tell you that the news of what had been done by O’Farrell -made many persons <i>ill</i> amongst us.... I dwell upon -this subject, for to this moment it, more than any other public -one, agitates the minds of the people—but having done so for -this simple reason, let me ask you, as a recent visitant, to do -something in our vindication. We are English—that is, -national—in our sentiments, and not as the result of calculation, -but simply because we have not ceased to be and to feel -as Englishmen. Our Tasmanianism is an accident of no more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -qualifying influence upon our feelings in what relates to the -honour and integrity of the mother country, than the circumstance -might have of being Kentish men.’</p> - -<p>Strange words these, to come, as they do, not from -a hot-headed boy, but from a cool, experienced politician, -a reader of solid books, a grave paterfamilias, a -hater of public meetings, who, when the Duke was in -Hobart Town, was ready to escape into the country, -rather than face the fuss and bustle and (to him) annoyance -of festivities and ‘functions.’ And column after -column of the Australian papers tell the same story. -I do not believe, since the news of Waterloo came to -England, that any body of Englishmen have been -heated to so intense and so unanimous a pitch of enthusiasm. -Nor would it be possible to name any such -manifestation more unmixed with selfishness. For -ostentatious loyalty there are no rewards or honours in -Australia, whatever there may be for ostentatious democracy. -I am no believer in the <i>Vox populi vox Dei</i> -doctrine. But surely such an outburst as this is a -phenomenon at least worthy of patient examination. -What is to be said of the discernment or of the charity -of a writer who can dismiss it with a passing sneer as -‘the starved appetite for rank’?</p> - -<p>How ‘An Australian Cynic’ can say that there is -‘not a tittle of evidence that a single colonist of New -South Wales, native or immigrant, has ever harboured -a thought of treason’ I am at a loss to conceive. I -know little or nothing of what has been going on lately -in New South Wales. But it is not a year since a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -Roman Catholic chaplain of one of the convict establishments -had to be dismissed for preaching Fenianism -to the prisoners; to say nothing of the original statement -made by O’Farrell himself, which it is as difficult -to disprove as to prove. I doubt if the absurdities and -extravagances of the Treason-Felony Act are worth -the pains ‘An Australian Cynic’ has taken to criticize -them. The Judges are not likely to allow the Act to -be enforced in an improper manner. Its intention is -obvious enough, and the blunders will probably prove -to be harmless surplusage. Nobody expects much -legislative wisdom from a House constituted as the -Lower House of New South Wales is. Nor is the -Upper House likely to be much better, since it consists, -not of members chosen by a superior constituency, like -the Victorian Upper House, but of nominees ostensibly -of the Governor, but in reality of successive administrations. -Nor ought we at home to be too ready to -ridicule their legislation, when we recollect that it is -we who are responsible for their Constitution. It was -we who at a time of transition and excitement in -Australia allowed our Parliament and Ministers to -pitchfork out to New South Wales a rash, ill-considered -scheme, from which, in the opinion of many, the colony -has been suffering ever since.</p> - -<p>‘An Australian Cynic’ complains of the newspapers -and the public at Sydney for not being more interested -about a murder of five people which has been committed -in the interior. Does he mean to imply that the -police are supine in the matter, and need stimulus, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -that the existing law is inadequate to meet the case? -If not, why ought such a topic to be enlarged upon? -Ought all bloodshed to provoke an amount of discussion -exactly in proportion to the number of lives lost? -Murder, unfortunately, is too old and too common a -crime not to have been provided against as far as it is -possible to do so. Fenianism, when it assumes the -form of a conspiracy for the wholesale assassination of -the most prominent persons in the State, is a new crime -and requires new precautions. I suppose there must -be a sense (since so many hold to the dogma) in which -all men may be said to be equal, though I must confess -I never could discover any—never yet having seen -such a phenomenon as even two men who could in any -sense of the word be called equal. But the common -sense of all communities acknowledges that the lives of -some persons are (to take the lowest ground) infinitely -more valuable to the State than those of others, and -when for this reason exposed to special danger they -require to be specially protected.</p> - -<p>Political assassination is a new crime in England in -our days. But if we go back to the days of Queen -Elizabeth, we may be reminded of conspiracies not unlike -the worst manifestations of Fenianism, which were -met by our ancestors in a spirit not altogether unlike -that which has just been shown by their descendants -in Australia.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="XVII">XVII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="noindent center b2"><span class="smcap">LOYALTY AND CYNICISM.</span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Personally</span> I do plead guilty to holding the belief or -doctrine to hold which you call ‘veiled cynicism.’ But -I beg you will not suppose that I am asserting that -the late demonstration of the Australians necessarily -implied that <i>they</i> hold it, or that their loyalty as a -people was not wider and more comprehensive than -any particular phase of it which may specially present -itself to me or to any one person. In the following -remarks I shall speak only in my own defence, and try -to lift my ‘veil,’ so that it may be seen whether what -is behind is, or is not, cynicism.</p> - -<p>I accept the definition of cynicism which you give in -your first paragraph. But I will add another, and a -strictly etymological one. A cynic is a man who treats -a deep-seated reasonable belief, or a fair argument, in -a dog-like manner, as if it were a mere dog’s howl; -one who vouchsafes only a kick or an imprecation to -what he ought to listen to with patience, and answer -(if he disagrees) with argument. A sham belief and -an utterly worthless argument <i>ought</i> to get only kicks<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -and imprecations; to treat them otherwise would be -priggishness. It is a critic’s business and difficulty -to discover the right path between these two pitfalls. -With all respect to the <i>Spectator</i>, I venture to express -my opinion that not only in its recent article on the -New South Wales Treason-Felony Act, but again and -again in speaking of matters pertaining to the Crown -and its relation to the people, it has fallen into the pitfall -of cynicism, and (unwittingly, of course) written -what has jarred painfully on the convictions of not a -few amongst its readers.</p> - -<p>To define these convictions adequately in general -terms is almost impossible. I do not know how to -do so without entering upon theological questions too -deep for me, and which I would rather have avoided. -I do not know how better to express my own conviction -than by saying that I do in a very real sense -believe in the ‘divine right of kings;’ not of course in -the sense of the High Church party of the seventeenth -century; more nearly, perhaps, in that of the eminently -national and protestant party, which in the latter part -of the sixteenth century relied upon the doctrine as the -truest and strongest bulwark against Rome and Spain. -I believe in the institution of hereditary monarchy as -a divine idea, imparted to mankind, and answering to -true and healthy instincts implanted in them—like in -kind, if differing in degree, to the institution of a -priesthood or clergy. Nations may reject it if they -please. In so doing they are simply rejecting a -proffered blessing, just as all of us are rejecting blessings<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -every day. The non-juring Bishops and their -followers brought discredit on the doctrine by their -unphilosophical perversion of it. They forgot that a -dynasty, like an individual Church, may become so -degraded by the unworthiness of its members as to -receive its condemnation, as did the dynasties of Saul -and of Ahab.</p> - -<p>The history of Europe from the middle ages to the -present time teems with instances of intense attachment -to hereditary, or quasi-hereditary, monarchy, often -breaking out in the strangest and most unaccountable -way, and in the teeth of the bitterest tyranny. For -instance, it would be hard, even in the thirteenth -century, to find a monarch who had inflicted more -suffering and bloodshed on his subjects than Frederick -Barbarossa inflicted on the Lombards. He was of a -different race, too, and spoke a different language. -Yet when his power had been broken under the walls -of Alessandria, and he found himself face to face with -a mass of enemies from whom escape was impossible, -and whom to attack was certain defeat, he could calmly -pitch his camp in the presence of their armed hosts, -in the confidence (which the event justified) that in -spite of all they would still acknowledge him as their -Sovereign, and that his life and liberty were safe in -their hands.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> - -<p>What is more remarkable in the death scenes of all -the religious and political martyrs or sufferers, from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -Sir Thomas More to Sir Walter Raleigh, staunch as -they were to the end each to his religious creed, than -the eagerness with which they repelled as an insult -every imputation of disloyalty to the Throne? And -yet at least two out of the five Sovereigns who reigned -were as despicable as a Sovereign can be. How -incredible to us seems the picture of the House -of Commons, in the succeeding reign, with many -of its members <i>in tears</i> of shame, that the Throne, -and they with it, should be so degraded by its -occupant!</p> - -<p>One hears of speeches so absorbing or exciting that -men hold their breath to listen. I used to think this -was only a figure of speech; but it happened to me -once, and once only, to find it a literal fact. The -Bishop of New Zealand was preaching at St. Mary’s -(Cambridge), which was crammed with undergraduates. -The subject was the Queen’s supremacy. He described -shortly and tersely the ‘shaking of the nations,’ the -abject condition, danger, or dethronement of the -Sovereigns of Europe in 1848. But when he came -to our own Queen, and her tranquil security in the -midst of the storm, he used no words of his own; -he simply quoted the text, ‘He took a little child, -and set her in the midst.’ It was then that for, -perhaps, ten seconds every hearer held his breath. -The silence was, from its intensity, more startling, -less capable of being forgotten, than any sound I -ever heard.</p> - -<p>Now, I do not mean to say that the Lombards, on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -the occasion referred to, acted like patterns of magnanimous -loyalty. I am not quite sure that they were -not, considering all the circumstances, rather fools for -their pains. Nor do I mean to say that the extraordinary -effect of the Bishop’s words was due <i>solely</i> to -the intrinsic truth and value of the idea suggested, or -to the eagerness with which his hearers’ instincts went -out to meet it, and not in part to the perfect rhetoric -in which it was clothed. But I say that there is a vein -of gold in the substratum of all these incidents, and of -hundreds of similar ones, which refuses to float away -upon any such superficial explanation—a metal the -taking away of which would leave poor humanity sadly -impoverished.</p> - -<p>Doubtless an hereditary Sovereign is not the only -possible object of loyalty. There may be loyalty to a -President, to a ‘House,’ even, I suppose, to a shadowy, -ever-changing idea such as a Constitution. Mr. Carlyle -has taught us, to a greater extent than we can -well estimate, how to choose our heroes. But does he -not fall short of entirely satisfying us, because his conception -of a hero is indissolubly bound up with mere -force of will and power of mind? Like Mr. Carlyle’s -heroes, the Presidents of Republics and the leaders of -great parties are of necessity men of iron will, muscular -intellect, and, it may safely be added, invincible digestions. -Why should we narrow our field of choice and -contract our storehouse of types of rulers within this -small class? Why should we honour a man for his -natural ability any more than we honoured Tom Sayers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -or Lola Montez for their strength and beauty? Does -not the Bishop’s quotation suggest a deliverance from -this perplexity? May not our heroes be sometimes -chosen for us? In the long lists of the Sovereigns -of past times have we not a St. Louis as well as a -Francis I., an Edward VI. as well as a Henry V., a -Margaret of Navarre as well as a Maria Theresa, an -Elizabeth of Hungary as well as an Elizabeth of -England? Can even these few types be found amongst -Presidents of Republics, or could they be selected -and enthroned by any form of suffrage, universal or -other?</p> - -<p>Therefore it is (as it seems to me) that hereditary -sovereignty naturally commends itself to men’s truest -and deepest instincts as supplying and enlisting more -true types of humanity, as more readily suggesting the -idea of perfect humanity and a perfect ruler, as more -symbolic of human-divine government, than any other -kind of rule. The remembrance of sovereigns at once -bad and feeble soon slips out of history. The memory -of the good, were they strong or feeble, remains a rich -ever-accumulating treasure to humanity, adding type -to type, building up in all reverent minds an ever -loftier ideal of government, which is not the less precious -for being so imperfectly realized.</p> - -<p>A mere leader, however great, whether priest, poet, -or politician, represents his own type, his own class, or -his own party. Homage to him can seldom, if ever, -be unanimous; it is ever on the brink of degenerating -into party-spirit and sectarianism. A Sovereign represents<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -the strong and the weak, the great and the -insignificant, the man with one talent and the man with -seven, the traditions of the past and the ideas of the -present. A Sovereign is the only possible representative -of the <i>whole</i> nation. I may be wrong, but I think -that the Australians, consciously or unconsciously, -found this to be true.</p> - - -<p class="noindent x-small center p8 b2">LONDON: PRINTED BY<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> -AND PARLIAMENT STREET<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter p4"></div> -<div class="footnotes"><h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Carlyle’s <i>Frederick the Great</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> This excludes 7 members returned without a contest, and -makes a total of 56 Ministerialists and 21 Opposition members, the -78th being (I presume) the Speaker and reckoned neutral. The -figures are from the Melbourne <i>Argus</i>, February 1868.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> See <i>Prophets and Kings</i>, p. 11. By the Rev. F. D. Maurice.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> See a remarkable pamphlet called <i>The Mercantile Commander, -his Difficulties and Grievances</i>. Philip and Son, 32 Fleet -Street.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> <i>Our Daily Food.</i> By James Caird.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> As an instance of this it may be mentioned that cheese, which -in March 1868 was selling at fourteenpence a pound, was in -December of the same year selling at fivepence halfpenny.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> <i>Colonial Policy of Lord J. Russell</i>, vol. ii. p. 4.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> I regret to say that accounts lately received (February 1869) -represent the depressed state of the colony as worse than ever, -the prospects of the coming harvest, owing to continued drought, -being in some districts very bad. It is with still greater regret -that I learn that there is a popular outcry for constructing a railway -across the island from Hobart Town to Launceston, which it -is supposed will be a panacea for all depression and stagnation of -trade. That the short railway now in course of construction from -Launceston to the western districts will bring advantages adequate -to the outlay, even though it may not pay a profit in itself, there -is every reason to hope, for it will open communication with a -magnificent new agricultural district. But the country between -Hobart Town and Launceston is in general not specially fertile; -it has for many years past been traversed by an exceptionally -excellent road, over which one daily coach each way is for the -greater part of the year more than sufficient for the passenger -traffic. There is no prospect of any considerable interchange of commodities -between the two towns, as each is sufficiently supplied -with food from its own district, and each has a harbour for the -introduction of imports and shipping of exports. The distance is -about 120 miles, with much difference of level and consequent -engineering difficulties. The loans and taxation necessary for its -construction will be a grievous additional burden on the colony, -which it is very ill able to bear. These considerations are so -obvious to every one that the popularity of the scheme must be -attributed in a great measure to sheer recklessness on the part of -many of those who advocate it—and indeed it is said that this -has been in some quarters admitted. The money borrowed in -England will doubtless improve trade for a year or two till it is -all spent, and what follows is to be left to the chapter of accidents. -Great and praiseworthy efforts have been made by the present administration -to pare down the expenditure of the colony to a level -with the revenue—which it was considered impossible to increase -by additional taxation—and it is to be hoped they will not embark -without due consideration on so dangerous a scheme, and imperil -the credit of the colony which they have done so much to sustain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> January 1867.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i>, October 9, 1867.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i>, August 28, 1867, copied from the -<i>Wagga Wagga Express</i> of August 24. ‘Blue Cap’ has since -been taken, and his gang broken up. Thunderbolt (November 1868) -still continues his career.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> October 1, 1867.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> From <i>Hobart Town Mercury</i>, January 21, 1868, copied from -the <i>Sydney Morning Herald</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> See Mr. Wentworth’s speech at the dinner to Sir John Young, -reported in the <i>Times</i> in June 1868.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> See <i>Argus</i> of July 26, 1855.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> See Lord Grey’s <i>Colonial Policy of the Administration of -Lord J. Russell</i>, vol. ii. p. 18. The average annual number of -convicts sent to Van Diemen’s Land, from 1840 to 1845, was no -less than 3,527 annually (see p. 5).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p class="noindent"><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> Sismondi, <i>Ital. Rep.</i> vol. ii. ch. xi. p. 212.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<div class="transnote-end chapter p4"> - -<p class="center bold TN-style-1"><a id="TN"></a>Transcriber’s Note (continued)</p> - -<p class="TN-style-1">Punctuation errors have been corrected. Inconsistencies in spelling, -grammar, capitalisation, and hyphenation are as they appear in the -original publication except where noted below:</p> - -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 6 – “preventible” changed to “preventable” (from preventable causes:)</p> -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 19 – “market-gardeners” changed to “market gardeners” (as market gardeners)</p> -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 30 – “is is” changed to “it is” (it is hard to)</p> -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 78 – “ascendency” changed to “ascendancy” (maintaining an ascendancy)</p> -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 89 – “road-side” changed to “roadside” (by the roadside)</p> -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 155 – “mouth” changed to “month” (once a month)</p> -<p class="TN-style-2">Page 205 – “politican” changed to “politician” (or politician)</p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="TN-style-1"><a class="underline" href="#top">Back to top</a></p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS FROM AUSTRALIA ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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