Six Letters From the Colonies

Chapter 4

Chapter 43,560 wordsPublic domain

The population of the whole of South Australia is now about 318,000, that of Adelaide and its suburbs being about 70,000. Adelaide is not only by far the largest town, but almost the only town of any size. The city is laid out with a regularity that is almost painful. It stands on a square mile of ground. At each side is a terrace, called respectively North, South, East, and West Terrace. There are squares laid out at regular intervals. As is usual in Australian towns, the streets are all at right angles, and generally of the same length and width. The Adelaide people claim to have the finest street in the Colonies, the finest post office, and the best hotel. King William Street is two chains wide--the widest streets in Melbourne are 1-1/2 chains--is a mile long, and contains the principal public buildings, the Town Hall, Post Office, Courts of Justice, &c. The Post Office is a handsome building, with a lofty tower, from which various signs are displayed notifying the arrival and departure of mails. At night the electric light from the top can be seen from a great distance. From King William Street start the various lines of tramway in every direction from the city. They run out to the various suburbs--Magill, Burnside, Kensington, Norwood, Stepney, &c., some of which names sound very familiar. The tramcars are as universally used as in Glasgow, and nowhere have I seen a better service than in Adelaide. It is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, to ride outside a tramcar in the bright atmosphere, to some suburb, and return after a ramble in the country. From beyond the North Terrace is a capital view over the city. Perhaps the best is from the house of Mr. Way, the Chief Justice. His villa, at which I had the pleasure of visiting him, is one of the most complete I have seen. Nothing is omitted that the arts of civilization can supply. His library contains the choicest modern works. His garden is delicious with cool grottos and fountains. In his aviaries is a collection of the rare birds of the country, all of which he knows. In a separate cage are two fine eagles. Among the flowers I noticed the "Sturt Desert Pea," just then in blossom, the loveliest wild flower of Australia. I have seen houses larger and finer, no doubt, and better collections of particular objects, but never any place so perfect of its kind. Some lines from the "Palace of Art" involuntarily occurred to me, but to no man does the moral of Tennyson's poem less apply than to the Chief Justice, for he is one of the most sympathetic and kind-hearted of men. I had intended staying at the Adelaide Club, and was provided with an introduction, but found on arrival that all the bedrooms were occupied. Besides, visitors are liable to give up their bedrooms to members, and as at this time some races were going on, and the rooms consequently likely to continue occupied, it was better at once to put up at a hotel. This was the "York," which was a comfortable house, and not particularly dear. It is a favourite with visitors by the mail steamers, who often run up from Glenelg for the few hours the steamer calls there.

Like all the other Australian Colonies (except Western Australia) South Australia has a Constitutional Government, established in 1856, consisting of two Houses of Parliament and the Governor. For the Lower House, which has 46 members, there is manhood suffrage. They are not paid as in Victoria, but a Bill for paying them narrowly escaped passing last session, and will probably be carried soon. While I was there there happened to be an election to the Legislative Council, the Upper House, the members of which retire in rotation. The election address of one candidate is the shortest I have ever seen. It was this: "Gentlemen,--My services are at your disposal as a candidate for re-election to the Legislative Council." Evidently his constituents were not troubled with burning questions. The position of a Governor in the Colonies is not altogether an enviable one. He has a high official and social position, but little real power, because, practically, he has to consent to any Bill passed by the two Houses. Any one can go to a Governor's reception, and their entertainments are necessarily extremely catholic in their nature. It is matter of common remark that people are seen there who are not seen anywhere else. A Governor's salary is not at all large for his position, and besides general entertaining, he is expected to entertain anyone of the least distinction who may happen to arrive. Adelaide is usually the first calling place for visitors to Australia, and so the Governor of South Australia is peculiarly liable to these calls upon his purse. Every law passed by the Colony has to be ratified at home, so we have a free people at home governing a free people abroad, which is an anomaly, and is daily seen more and more to be so.

South Australia exports wool, wheat, and copper, but the price of copper has fallen more than 50 per cent.; wheat is also very cheap, and has to compete with wheat from India; and in South Australia farming operations are too often conducted by mere "earth scratchers," who have no knowledge of agriculture. In 1851, considerable emigration to Victoria took place in consequence of the discovery of gold in that Colony. There was and is great depression of trade in South Australia, and we have recently heard of the failure of the "Commercial Bank of South Australia," but for all that the amount of the deposits in the South Australian Savings Bank is greater than in any other in proportion to the population. It is nearly £5 per head. It is true some of this is the result of compulsory savings under the provisions of the "Destitute Act."

After a few days at the hotel, I went to stay with a young relative of mine in the northern suburb, where, with one exception, I remained the rest of my time. His wife kept no servant, not so much on account of the expense as because, as she said, "They are more bother than they're worth," and indeed this is a universal complaint in the Colonies. I slept in a small room, and the last night but one observed in a corner of the ceiling, above the bed, what seemed to be a large spider. On mentioning this the next morning, I learnt that it was a tarantula, and was of use in catching insects. "Oh, but," I said, "doesn't it come down at night?" "Oh, no," said my friend, "it never comes below _this_," marking a spot about a yard above my head. This was not very reassuring, as there appeared nothing to prevent the animal from transgressing the prescribed limit, should it feel so disposed. It never troubled me however, but I was afterwards told that it had once come down too far and been killed. Such animals are unpleasant, and at times dangerous, but they may be expected in countries where the heat is as great as it is in Adelaide, which is considered to be one of the hottest places in the globe inhabited by man. One evening we went to hear the Bishop preach in the Cathedral. It is a very unpretending edifice, and in fact is only half built. It is all choir and no nave. In consequence of the great number of women who attend the services, or of the politeness of the men, or both, the Bishop has been obliged to set apart seats for men to protect them against the encroachment of what Mr. Swinburne calls the "stronger sex." Another evening we went to see a native dance or "corrobboree" as it is called. There are not many natives now left in South Australia, and what there are have become very degraded. The law forbids the sale to them of intoxicating liquors. Spirits not merely make them drunk, but drive them mad. As a sort of compensation they come down to Adelaide at stated times for blankets, which are distributed to them by the Government. On these occasions they are accustomed to exhibit themselves in their native antics and dances for a little gain. At this time was expected a large muster, and in order to accommodate as many visitors as possible, the Adelaide Cricket Club had induced the natives to hold their corrobboree on the cricket ground, of course themselves looking for a large money return. Certainly their anticipations must have been more than fulfilled, for there was a crowd at the entrance resembling that outside a London theatre on boxing night. Instead of 3,000 people, the number expected, there were nearer 15,000. Seats in the grand stand were 1s., outside the ring was 6d., but soon all distinction of place was lost. Presently about 50 natives, hideously decorated, and stained with red to represent gashes on the head and breast, filed into the enclosure in a long line. Small bonfires were lighted at intervals, and on these the performers leapt, one exactly following the steps of another. Then they imitated the bounds of the Kangaroo when pursued, but of dancing, or even posturing, in our sense of the word, there was none. Meantime the "lubras" (native women) seated on the ground in one mass, kept up a monotonous chant, varying their cadences with the beat of tom-toms. The night was dark, and the figures were indistinctly seen. Soon the vast crowd becoming impatient, burst through the barriers, and scattered the burning brands. A great scene of confusion ensued, and the performance came abruptly to an end. One of the blacks remarked, not without reason, "Me tink dis white fellows' corrobboree." It is a painful thing to see a race so degenerate as to be willing to show themselves for money before their supplanters, and to see the former "lords of the soil" begging a copper from the passer-by. One cannot but desire that their extinction in these parts, which is certain, may be also speedy. I cannot easily imagine two more pitiable objects than those I afterwards saw at Albany in Western Australia: a native man and woman begging, standing with their shrunken limbs in rags that barely covered them. The cricket ground is in the "reserve," a part between the north terrace and the northern suburb, which belongs to the community and cannot be built on. It is separated from the north terrace by the river Torrens. Like many Australian rivers, the Torrens starts up in various places and does not seem to have either a beginning or an ending. It might be compared to the "sullen mole that runneth underneath," between Letherhead and Dorking; but these Australian rivers, when they do appear, are inclined to stagnate. The municipality of Adelaide, however, have wisely dammed up the river, and converted it into a lake of about one and a half miles long, thus improving an eyesore into an ornament. It is spanned by a handsome bridge. Near the north terrace, too, are the Botanical Gardens, one of the best in Australia. The Zoological Gardens are close by, where there is a black cockatoo and a white peacock.

As I said before, Adelaide is the only town of any size. There are others, however. One day I went with my friend by train to the small town of Gawler, which is about 25 miles to the north. The train takes about one and a half hours. There we were met by a gentleman with a trap, who took us to see an ostrich farm about four miles from Gawler. It belongs to a company at Adelaide and we had an order from head quarters to be shown over it. Ostriches have been imported into South Australia from the Cape of Good Hope, and thrive here well enough. At length, seeing the risk of a sharp competition in ostrich feathers, the Cape authorities have laid an embargo of £100 on every ostrich exported, but this is locking the stable door when the horse has escaped, for there are now in South Australia quite sufficient birds to keep up the breed. The farm manager was a dry old Scotchman of much humour, and had made himself accustomed to their ways. The farm was about 170 acres in extent, and at this time there were about 100 ostriches upon it, a number having recently been sent away north to Port Augusta, where is another farm belonging to the same Company. Some of the birds had committed suicide on their way to the sea. They will run up against palings or wire, get their long necks entangled, and sometimes cut their throats in trying to extricate themselves. I noticed one that had his throat bandaged up on this account. The birds are kept in paddocks, three or four together, or more, if young and tame, but some are very savage. We drove through all the paddocks, but the manager kept a sharp look-out, lest any should "bounce" at us. An ostrich, in attacking, kicks forward with his legs, which give tremendous blows, and then, when he has kicked down his enemy, he will probably sit upon him, and his weight is about two hundredweight. An ostrich, therefore, cannot be considered a generous foe. The old manager had been a good deal knocked about by them himself. On one occasion a bird had kicked him twice, broken a rib or two, and got him up fast against the palings. However, he managed to seize hold of the bird's neck, and calling to some men on the other side, he handed the neck to them over the palings, to hold while he made his escape--which his ingenuity certainly deserved. I asked him what he did when they ran away. "Well," he said, "I sit down and wait till they stop; you can't catch them." The male takes turn with the female in sitting on the eggs, and when an ostrich has young ones she is very dangerous to approach. A good breeding couple are worth £300. The feathers are not taken off at any particular time of the year, but as they are ready, nor is cruelty exercised in taking them. I saw several ovens which had been used for hatching the eggs, but now they have enough birds to let them be hatched naturally, which is the safer way. An ostrich at close quarters is certainly an unpleasant looking beast; his neck, moving rapidly in all directions, surmounted by a small head, with bright wicked-looking eyes, reminds one of a snake. He has a fancy for anything bright, and will make for a button on your coat if it happens to gleam. I asked the age of ostriches, but could obtain no information. They look wiry enough to live for ever.

On our return to Gawler we called on the way to see an orange farm. The oranges were being picked. The trees, laden with fruit, seemed to have repaid the labour of the cultivator. Oranges require a great deal of water. This grove was in a sheltered valley, and water was supplied by a pump worked by wind. The man with us said you could not tell exactly what sort of oranges would come, because the same tree sometimes bears different kinds. Whether this is the case I do not know. Paramatta, near Sydney, is the chief place for oranges in Australia, but these of Gawler seemed to be as good as any we could desire, to judge from the taste. At Gawler we had tea at a friend's house. He said amongst other things--all interesting, but which I have forgotten--that he always gave tramps a meal (which seems to be the custom) and usually offered them work, but that none would work for less than 4_s._ 6_d._ a day. They preferred to do nothing. The Gawler Museum was close by. It contains native clubs, tom-toms, skins of fishes, and a valuable book of engravings from Hogarth. The last two or three days of my visit to South Australia I spent with an old friend, who has been about six years a Professor at the University. He lived about 20 miles to the east of Adelaide, beyond the Mount Lofty range, and the scenery by rail thither, across the mountains, is very striking. His comfortable house is about a mile from the station, and here he spends his leisure time with his family, in sensible pursuits. The University of Adelaide is yet in its early youth, and only quite lately have any buildings been erected for it, but the professorships are well endowed, and the number of students annually increases. From Adelaide I returned by steamer to Melbourne, and from there in a few days I went to Tasmania. On my subsequent return to England I spent a day at Adelaide, but then was in the company of friends the whole time.

V.

Tasmania.

The island of Tasmania is about 200 miles direct South of Victoria. Up to 1856 its name was Van Diemen's land. Then it was officially changed to Tasmania, a name which is more euphonious and at the same time more correct, for the island was discovered by the Dutch navigator, Tasman, who called it after his father-in-law, Van Diemen. The change of name does not seem at once to have been appreciated in England, for it is related of the first Bishop of Tasmania, Bishop Nixon that, having occasion to call at the Foreign Office, he left his card "F. R. Tasmania," and received a reply addressed to F. R. Tasmania, Esq.! This reminds one of the Duke of Newcastle, who, when Prime Minister, expressed his astonishment that Cape Breton was an island, and hurried off to tell the King. Tasmania may be reached direct from England by the Steamers of the Shaw Savill and Albion Line, which call at Hobart on their way to New Zealand once a month. The Steamers of the New Zealand Shipping Co. also call occasionally at Hobart for coal, but they are not to be relied on for stopping. Tasmania is however usually reached from Melbourne. Bass's Straits, the sea between Victoria and Tasmania is usually stormy, and many passengers who have never been seasick all the way from England have succumbed to Bass's Straits. What is more remarkable however, is that some for whom Bass's Straits have had no terrors, have been seasick on the narrow-gauge line from Launceston to Hobart! There are two ways of going from Melbourne to Hobart, one by Steamer to Launceston at the north of the Island, and 40 miles up the river Tamar, which takes about 24 hours, and thence by express train to Hobart which takes 5-3/4 hours, the other by Steamer all the way. There are two lines of Steamers, the Tasmanian S.S. Co., and the Union S.S. Co., of New Zealand, which calls at Hobart on the way to New Zealand. The Steamers of the latter Company are built by Messrs. Denny, of Dumbarton, and are fine, comfortable, and swift. To travel by one of them is in my opinion far the pleasantest way of reaching Hobart from Melbourne. Others to whom the shortest sea passage is preferable, will naturally go by Launceston, and will have a beautiful ride through the country, though they may be shaken to pieces.

Tasmania is about half the size of England, but its population is only 120,000. There are only two towns of any size--Hobart in the south and Launceston in the north. A great deal of the interior is marshy, and there are lakes of some considerable size, which in the winter are sometimes frozen. The north-west coast is very barren and sparsely inhabited. The doctors and clergy in these parts have often long journeys to make through the bush. In climate, Tasmania is preferable to Australia. The temperature is much more equable, and therefore not so trying to weak constitutions. Formerly, many Anglo-Indians visited the north-west coast; but this has not been so much the case latterly. Numbers of tourists come from Australia during the summer months. Compared to the larger island, Tasmania is well watered, and the rainfall is very much greater. The climate has often been compared to that of England, without its damps and fogs, but the lightness and clearness of the atmosphere rather resemble that of the South of France or Italy, and supply that gentle exhilaration to the spirits which can be so seldom known in England. Mount Wellington, which rises 4,000 feet above Hobart, is often covered with a wreath of mist, and in the winter with snow. Many English fruits and trees have been introduced, and flourish well. The sweet briar was brought in some years ago, and now in many parts the hedges are of nothing else. The native foliage is, however, the same as that of Australia. Everywhere the eucalyptus predominates, and in Tasmania grows to a great height. Some of the finest trees may be seen in driving from Hobart along the Huon Road.