Melbourne from the sea, as in this way we shall perhaps get the 1
clearest view of the peculiarities of the State of Victoria. From
Sydney to Cape Howe, we are still following the coastal plain of
New South Wales, with the plateau edge in the background. But
when we round Cape Howe and turn westward the coast changes:
a series of mountain ridges runs down to the sea, ending in
promontories with fiord-like inlets between them. The eastern end
of Victoria is occupied by an irregular mountain mass, trending
on the whole north and south. West of the mouth of the Snowy
River, the coast scenery changes again, and we have Ninety Mile
Beach. Here long banks of sand, brought by the strong currents
from the west, have silted up the mouth of an old river valley.
The water is thus held up and spreads out into lagoons, which 2
communicate with the sea here and there through narrow channels.
Further west still are isolated mountain ranges, one of which
ends at Wilson Promontory, the southernmost point of the mainland
of Australia. In the bight between this promontory and Cape
Otway, lie Western Port and Port Phillip, wide bays with narrow
entrances. Beyond Port Phillip the coast is fringed by the Otway
ranges; and then follows a low plain, with few inlets or good
harbours, a region of lakes and swamps. So we see three great
irregular curves or bights, with great variety of coast-line;
Port Phillip lies at the top of the middle curve. It is a 3
drowned valley, like the lagoons further east, and is almost
blocked at the mouth by the drifting sands. It is the only good
natural harbour on this part of the coast, and is still the
centre of settlement and of the area of densest population.
[Illustration: PORT PHILLIP.]
Though the harbour of Port Phillip was discovered at the
beginning of the nineteenth century, it was over thirty years
before a permanent settlement was planted on its shores.
Something was learnt of the country in 1824, when Hume and
Hovell, travelling overland from New South Wales along the route
now partly followed by the railway, reached the spot where
Geelong now stands. The coast at that time was unoccupied, except
for a few whalers who were settled at Portland in the far west.
The real occupation of Victoria was brought about by the fusion
of two distinct streams of immigrants, one coming by land, the
other by sea. In 1836 Sir Thomas Mitchell, one of the greatest of
the New South Wales explorers, came over from the Murray basin
and discovered the fertile plains at the back of Port Phillip;
Australia Felix he named this country of promise. His report on
the country led to a rapid movement from New South Wales over the
border southward. But the journey from Sydney by land was long
and arduous, and the southern part of Victoria, like the coast
region of New South Wales, was most easily and naturally settled
from the sea.
In 1835 a Tasmanian, John Batman, representing a syndicate of
Tasmanians, surveyed the site of Melbourne and tried to buy it
from the natives; but the New South Wales Government refused to
sanction the arrangement. Still other Tasmanians followed, and a
body led by Fawkner actually settled on the Yarra in 1835. The
two parties naturally quarrelled and the matter was complicated
by the fact that New South Wales claimed the whole territory. The
British Government supported this claim, and, as a result, in
spite of the difficulty of communication, the people of Melbourne
had to send their parliamentary representative to Sydney for
some years. At length, in 1851, the Port Phillip district became
independent and was re-named Victoria. The name of the State and
its capital easily remind us of its history; for the official
founding of Melbourne was in 1837, when Queen Victoria came to
the throne and Lord Melbourne was Prime Minister.
Melbourne and Port Phillip have not the picturesque appearance
of Port Jackson and Sydney; the broad, lagoon-like harbour does
not lend itself to scenic effects, and we have not the deep-water
inlets penetrating the heart of the city which add so much to the
beauty and utility of Sydney. Melbourne is built on the level,
with broad, straight streets and fine buildings, modern and
handsome, a typical Australian city. Here are Collins Street and 4,5
Bourke Street. Here again are some of the Government offices; the 6
statue in the foreground is one of General Gordon.
Melbourne is a true city of the plains; we have already noticed
that Port Phillip itself is merely part of a drowned plain. On
either side of Melbourne, between the mountains on the north,
which form a continuous wall from east to west of the State, and
the broken ranges of the coast lies a great lowland, a series
of plains dotted with marshes and detached hills. This is the
Great Valley of Victoria. In the west it is largely covered with
lavas, poured out from volcanoes now extinct. We can trace many
of the old craters, especially in the district round Ballarat. 7
Here is one of them from the inside; notice the shape of the
rocks. It is the lava and the river alluvium which have made the
Great Valley the most fertile area of the whole State. Eastward
the plain narrows for a space and then broadens out again in the
valley of the Latrobe, behind the lagoons and the Ninety Mile
Beach. The early settlers were quick to notice the fine grasses
on these open plains; they started with sheep, but with the
growth of communications dairy farming and butter making have
increased greatly. Here we have a typical view on the plains, not
far from the great Lake Korangamite. It is open rolling country, 8
and the building in the foreground is a large dairy. We may see
the butter being brought in from a branch factory to the central
collecting station, and can watch the latest methods of working
it by machinery. We shall find the same scenery and the same
industry all over this area.
Here is another typical scene: a string of draught horses is 9
being brought in for sale, and we can follow them back to their
feeding ground on the rich grass of the open country. Victoria, 10
with a much smaller area, values her horses at about four-fifths
of the total value of those of New South Wales. They are not
raised only for farm purposes as the picture before us proves. It
is a race meeting, and we might imagine ourselves in England but 11
for the strange shape of some of the carriages.
We have had a glimpse of one aspect of Victoria; the port, the
city, and the plain. Now let us turn to the mountains. We have
seen that the east end of the State is almost filled up by a mass 12
of highland, and we may notice that the railways only touch the
outer fringe of this district. It is out of the world and thinly
peopled, though much of it is well fitted for cattle. Westward
the highland becomes narrower and sends out spurs on either side,
leaving the Great Valley on the south, and on the north and
north-west a broad plain sloping down to the Murray River. This
corresponds somewhat to the slope west of the Divide in New South
Wales, but the climate, as we shall see, is not the same.
As we leave Melbourne and follow the Yarra up-stream we soon 13
notice a change of scenery. At Warburton, the rail head, we are
well within the highlands. The river runs through forests of
eucalyptus and fern, and we notice rapids below the primitive 14
bridge. It is evidently a mountain stream. This district is one
of the playgrounds of Melbourne, and we stumble on the Christmas 15
camp of the Boy Scouts, who are known in Australia as well as
in our own part of the Empire. A few miles away to the north is 16
Healesville. We notice here, as we drive through, that there are
some trees which seem to have shed their leaves. Perhaps these 17
are some English trees of which many have been imported, and they
find the weather too dry and hot; for close by we find the native
forest with trees in full leaf. In spite of the presence of
English trees, we may easily recognise the country as Australia
by the great gum trees, with their bare trunks, and the thorny
acacia growing below. The gums and the tree ferns are everywhere 18
on the hillsides. Even the house and garden, which we see here,
have a slightly foreign look, and do not seem adapted for the 19
conditions of an English winter. In fact, there is no winter,
as we understand it, in this part of Victoria, though snow may
lie for months on the heights of the Alps to the north-east. We
must remember that Melbourne lies in nearly the same latitude
as Seville. In the hills to the north of Melbourne we find the
same scenery, with its abundance of streams and trees. Here is a
woodland scene not far from Mount Macedon in this district, where 20
the Governor of Victoria has his summer home.
* * * * *
Let us now travel westward by the railway to Ballarat, which
lies on the south face of the narrow ridge which forms the
water-parting between the Victorian Valley and the north-western
plains. Ballarat is a fine town, second only to Melbourne, and
planted in far more picturesque surroundings. Here is Sturt 21
Street, named after one of Australia’s greatest explorers; 22
looking down it we can just see Mount Warrenheit in the distance.
We can wander in the Botanical Gardens where the aloe is in 23
flower, or stroll by the lake and admire the black swans. But we
have not come here only for the scenery. Ballarat represents the
second great factor in the development of Victoria: gold.
Within ten years of 1851, when gold was discovered here in paying
quantities, all the chief fields of Victoria were opened up, and
there was a sudden rush of settlers to the country. Many of the
goldfields are so near Melbourne that it may be considered as
a centre of mining as well as of pastoral industries. Thus we
may account for the fact that it has to-day concentrated in its
neighbourhood nearly half of the total population of the State.
The gold most easily reached was in the underground leads, the
channels of old streams, or fissures in the rock. In these were
found nuggets and gold dust. Here we see the primitive methods of
mining. A group of miners is sinking a simple shaft and raising 24
the soil in buckets, while another washes it in a pan to separate
the heavier gold dust. The pick and shovel and the strong arm 25
of the miner are the chief instruments needed for this form of
mining; and the fact that the goldfields are in the midst of
fertile country, with farms all around them, makes the life much
less hard than in some of the fields of the far interior of
Australia which we shall visit later.
The modern method of mining is to attack the quartz rock by the
aid of machinery; and the shafts are often carried to a great
depth. Here, instead of the tents of the miners, we see what
might be the top of a coal mine, with elaborate machinery for 26
winding. We shall examine this type of mine elsewhere; for though
gold has made Victoria in the past, it is not now the chief
gold-producing State in the Commonwealth. So we pass on, after a
glance at a quartz reef cropping out from the ground--a sign that 27
has often guided the prospector in his search.
We have seen that as we travel eastward along the ridge on which
we are standing, the forest grows more dense and settlement
thinner, while roads and railways disappear. But the greatest
change is found as we travel north and north-west from Ballarat.
We have crossed to the inner slope of the highlands and are
entering a very dry country. In the districts which we have
visited the rainfall is not unlike that of the Midlands of 28
England, though most comes in the winter time from the westerly
winds. The extreme east of the State has also, like Sydney, a
good deal of rain in summer from the Pacific. But the great
plain sloping to the Murray is cut off by the highlands from the
moist winds of the oceans and exposed to dry hot winds sweeping
down from the deserts of the interior. The rivers end in shallow
lakes and marshes on the arid plain; and we may notice that the
railways push out into this district and stop in similar fashion.
It is a region of sandhills, heaths, and a dense scrub, called
_mallee_; dreary and desolate at first sight, but not altogether
without promise. The soil is very fertile, being composed of the
old river silts, and with light rains at the right season, or by
the aid of irrigation, it will grow fine crops. Here we see the
beginning of the process of cultivation, by the rolling down of 29
the _mallee_ scrub.
With large areas of fertile land lying waste for want of water,
and water in abundance in the rivers, we should expect that
attempts would be made to bring the two together. In New South
Wales, near Yass on the Murrumbidgee, a great scheme is in
progress. The Barren Jack dam, when finished next year, will hold
up and make available for agriculture, a mass of water comparable
to that of the Nile at Assuan. It will preserve, for the dry
season, the water from the winter rains and the melting snows of
spring. Other schemes are proposed for the Lachlan and Murray;
up to the present, however, the chief development of irrigation
has been in Victoria, on the streams flowing into the Murray and
on the main river itself. Here we see the process of impounding 30
the water; notice the woods in the background which show that we
are on the upper course of the stream, near the hills and the
region of heavier rainfall. Here again is a great reservoir being 31
excavated, to hold the flood water; and next we may see the water
flowing out into the irrigation channel. In another place the 32
water is being pumped up into high-level tanks for distribution. 33
The river has gradually built up a flood plain at a higher
level than its usual channel; so that the water must be raised
before it will flow over the fields. At Mildura and Renmark, the
latter in South Australia, a large fruit-growing industry has
been developed on the basis of irrigation. So we find lemons and
apricots, and above all the currant and the vine which give us
our dried currants and raisins.
But the supply of water in the rivers is limited, for the rivers
are not broad or deep, in spite of their great length. One of
the chief difficulties of all irrigation schemes is to avoid
damage to the interests of people living lower down the stream,
or interference with the navigation. In this matter the interests
of all three States of the Commonwealth must be considered,
since the Murray basin is divided among them. As we have already
noticed in the case of Queensland and New South Wales, the State
boundaries only coincide in part with natural features of the
country.
The whole character of the river basin depends on the
distribution of the rainfall. In the case of all three States
there is a similar arrangement: first the coast belt, which is
more varied and irregular in Queensland and Victoria than in New
South Wales; then the highland edge, and then the back slope
with a zone of moderate rainfall which shades off gradually into
desert conditions. This zone narrows as we come southwards until
it almost disappears in South Australia. But before following
it out into this last State we will cross Bass Strait to visit
Tasmania. Victoria, though a mere corner of the Australian
continent, is about the size of Great Britain, while Tasmania is
not very much smaller than Ireland, and both could support a very
dense population. We must bear these facts in mind during our
rapid journey through the country, since the maps in our atlases,
for the most part, give us utterly wrong impressions as to the
area of Australia.
If we look at a chart showing the depths of the sea, we may 34
notice that Bass Strait is shallow while the surrounding seas are
deep. From Wilson Promontory we can trace a connexion through
Flinders and Cape Barren Islands, to the north-east horn of the
curved coast of Tasmania. A similar bridge runs through from the
north-west horn, through the Hunter Islands and King Island. We
may be reminded of the shallows of the English Channel and the
North Sea, and can easily imagine that Tasmania, like England,
at some very remote period formed part of the neighbouring
continental mainland. We find, moreover, a general similarity
between the plants and animals on the opposite sides of the
Strait; but there are also some marked differences which suggest
that Tasmania was separated very long ago and so has had a
peculiar and isolated development.
We cross Bass Strait and steam up the winding estuary of the
Tamar to Launceston. The names remind us of England, and round us 35
are the counties of Devon, Dorset, and Cornwall; but we must not
be too ready to take the names as a guide to the character of the
country or the climate. Our vessel lands us at a busy wharf in
the middle of the town, for Launceston, though second to Hobart
in size, is the chief commercial centre for the island. Here is a
general view of the town: it is modern and well planned and has 36
fine houses and gardens in the suburbs, like the other Australian
capitals.
A glance at the country round soon shows us why the early
settlers were reminded of the south-west corner of England. At 37
King’s Bridge we can leave the broad estuary of the Tamar and
turn up the narrow valley of the Esk. Notice the fishermen: the
streams here abound with fish, mostly introduced from England.
The Esk here flows through a rocky and wooded gorge; and we might 38
easily imagine ourselves in Devon or Cornwall. Higher up the
scenery is spoilt by an ugly building with great pipes; it is the 39
power station for the electric light of the town. The water power
is too valuable to waste, so the picturesque has been sacrificed
to the practical needs of the people.
[Illustration: TASMANIA: OROGRAPHICAL.
_By permission of the Diagram Co._]
As we leave Launceston and travel up the valley of the Tamar,
through beautiful open country, it is still easy to imagine that
we are somewhere in the south of England. The apple orchards are 40
everywhere. Here is one on a hill slope, but we notice that it
is quite unlike the grass-grown orchards so common in Devon.
The trees are grown as low bushes, in straight rows; it is less
picturesque but more profitable. They produce the fine even fruit
which we can buy in the London market. The climate is cooler
and moister here than on the mainland and so is well fitted for
most of our English fruits. There are the same orchards and the
same English crops all along the line of the railway southward
to Hobart. The line follows a narrow sheltered lowland. On the
east is a broken mountainous country; on the west a great solid
plateau, rising up in tiers or steps, and occupying all the 41
centre of the island. We shall not cross this central block,
since it is without road or rail and almost without inhabitants,
a bleak bare roof to the island, feeding a few sheep in summer,
but even then subject to biting storms and snow.
From Launceston a short journey by rail will take us to 42
Scottsdale among the hills in the north-eastern corner of the
island. Here we meet the bullock team hauling timber, and droves 43
of sheep on the road, while the eucalyptus forest is all around 44
us; on this drier eastern side of Tasmania we seem to be back
again in Australia. But if we travel westward from Launceston
we shall notice a great change. At first our way lies over the
plains, between the northern edge of the plateau and the sea.
Then, at Burnie, we leave the sea and strike southwards towards a
new country. We have turned the north-west corner of the plateau,
and between its steep western edge and the sea we find the plain
broken by a detached range of mountains rising from the level.
Here is the chief mining district in the island.
Let us use our eyes as the train runs swiftly through this
country. The gaunt gum-trees have disappeared; everywhere are
dense forests of the evergreen beech, called myrtle by the 45
settlers, with its small feathery leaves. Mingled with the beech
are clumps of pine, of various kinds; and below is a dense
undergrowth of scrub which makes it difficult to penetrate the
forest. The rivers have cut deep gorges in the surface of the
plateau: here we see one of these with its slopes clad thickly 46
with trees. It is a rugged country, largely unexplored, and would
have few inhabitants but for the mines. It lies in the track of
the strong west winds, the Roaring Forties, and has a rainfall
three times as heavy as that of the sheltered eastern valleys,
a rainfall only to be compared to that of the wettest parts of
the West of Scotland and Ireland. The vegetation is naturally
different from that of the neighbouring regions of Australia,
with their moderate rainfall and greater warmth; in fact, to find
a parallel to Western Tasmania we must look to New Zealand and to
parts of South America.
* * * * *
The railway on which we are travelling has been built solely for
the benefit of the mines, and we are drawing near to Zeehan, an
important centre for the production of silver, lead, and other 47
metals. Notice the mountains in the distance rising up sharply
from the level of the plains. The town looks primitive and 48
unfinished; little better than a mining camp. Here is one of the
smelteries at the foot of the hills. A little further on we come 49
down to the sea again at Strahan, the only seaport of importance
on the west coast. It lies on a fine bay in the deep and almost 50
landlocked inlet of Macquarie Harbour. This splendid sheet of
water was discovered as early as 1816, but it was too far away
from the settled portion of Tasmania, and it owes its present
importance solely to the presence of the mines in the country
behind it.
A short distance inland is Queenstown, where much smelting is 51
going on. Notice the desolate appearance of the country round,
and the stumps of the trees which have been cut down for fuel.
Gormanston, with its background of rugged mountain, is equally 52
desolate. Close to this town are the famous Mount Lyell copper
mines. Here is the “open cut” where they are quarrying into the 53
mountain-side, and here are some of the smelting works. Here 54
again is a general view from our hotel: the whole country is 55
grim, scarred, and waste, in great contrast to the beautiful
forest scenery a few miles away. But it is the source of great
wealth to Tasmania.
We shall not attempt to travel further south than Macquarie
Harbour, as there is little beyond but wild forest and hill
country, backed by the bare plateau and full in the path of the
westerly gales from the Southern Ocean. It is without roads or
railways and has scarcely a human settlement. So we return to
Launceston and follow the railway southward to Hobart. The coast
of the south-east corner is very different from that of the rest
of the island. It is a drowned coast, with deep fiords, many
islands, and irregular peninsulas barely connected by narrow
necks with the mainland. On one of these deep fiords stands
Hobart, the second oldest city in the whole of Australasia.
Here we have a general view of Hobart, looking across the water 56
to the hills beyond. Once again we are reminded of portions of
the Clyde, and only Sydney can compare with Hobart for the beauty
of its position. Here is another view from the water, with Mount 57
Wellington in the background rising into the clouds. In the
neighbouring lowlands, sheltered from the west by the mountains,
are more apple orchards; and in a gully near the town we find a 58
mass of tree ferns. Here again is Government House, since Hobart 59
is the political capital of Tasmania: notice the lake and the
trees. Everything around us suggests a mild and not very dry
climate.
If we climb Mount Wellington, the aspect of the country soon 60
changes. The mountain is not an isolated peak, but merely the
south-eastern corner of the central plateau. From the summit is
a fine view of the fertile lowland valley and the great expanse
of fiords and islands. But the summit itself is a wild confusion
of boulders with low scrub and heath. This is a very good guide
to the nature of the whole surface of the plateau behind, and
we realise that it is not a favourable country for the settler,
though in some of its wilder aspects it may attract the tourist.
We shall not attempt to reach the lakes lying on the surface of
the plateau, but content ourselves with a short journey round its
southern rim.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 68._
ADELAIDE: LOOKING SOUTH-EAST.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 81._
MUNDARING WEIR.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 82._
ALLUVIAL MINING.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 83._
CLIFFS IN THE GREAT BIGHT.]
The coach will take us through more orchards, towards Franklin 61
on the Huon River, where we touch the eastern side of the broken
country from which we turned back at Macquarie Harbour. There
are settlements all along the Huon Estuary, which runs into the
channel of D’Entrecasteaux. Here we have come upon an important
remnant of past history. The name is that of a French admiral who
was sent out in 1791 to seek for a port in Southern Australia,
so that France might gain a footing in these new islands.
D’Entrecasteaux actually surveyed the Derwent River, and a later
French expedition spent some time in the neighbourhood. Partly
through fear of the designs of France we occupied Risdon in 1803,
and in the following year, Colonel Collins, not content with the
site at Port Phillip in Victoria, which he had occupied for a
short time, came over and moved the settlement from Risdon to
Hobart. The evidence of the activity of the French explorers in
this region is still to be seen in the names of capes and bays
all along the eastern coast of Tasmania.