Adieu, thou beautiful land, Canaan of the exiles, and Ararat to many a
shattered ark! Fair cradle of a race for whom the unbounded heritage of
a future that no sage can conjecture, no prophet divine, lies afar in the
golden promise--light of Time!--destined, perchance, from the sins and
sorrows of a civilization struggling with its own elements of decay, to
renew the youth of the world, and transmit the great soul of England
through the cycles of Infinite Change. All climates that can best ripen
the products of earth or form into various character and temper the
different families of man is "rain influences" from the heaven that
smiles so benignly on those who had once shrunk, ragged, from the wind,
or scowled on the thankless sun. Here, the hard air of the chill Mother
Isle,--there, the mild warmth of Italian autumns or the breathless glow
of the tropics. And with the beams of every climate, glides subtle Hope.
Of her there, it may be said, as of Light itself, in those exquisite
lines of a neglected poet,--
"Through the soft ways of heaven and air and sea,
Which open all their pores to thee,
Like a clear river thou dost glide.
All the world's bravery that delights our eyes
Is but thy several liveries;
Thou the rich dye on them bestowest;
Thy nimble pencil paints the landscape as thou goest." (1)
Adieu, my kind nurse and sweet foster-mother,--a long and a last adieu!
Never had I left thee but for that louder voice of Nature which calls the
child to the parent, and wooes us from the labors we love the best by the
chime in the sabbath-bells of Home.
No one can tell how dear the memory of that wild Bush life becomes to him
who has tried it with a fitting spirit. How often it haunts him in the
commonplace of more civilized scenes! Its dangers, its risks, its sense
of animal health, its bursts of adventure, its intervals of careless
repose,--the fierce gallop through a very sea of wide, rolling plains;
the still saunter, at night, through woods never changing their leaves,
with the moon, clear as sunshine, stealing slant through their clusters
of flowers. With what an effort we reconcile ourselves to the trite
cares and vexed pleasures, "the quotidian ague of frigid impertinences,"
to which we return! How strong and black stands my pencil-mark in this
passage of the poet from whom I have just quoted before!--
"We are here among the vast and noble scenes of Nature,--we are there
among the pitiful shifts of policy; we walk here in the light and open
ways of the Divine Bounty,--we grope there in the dark and confused
labyrinth of human malice." (2)
But I weary you, reader. The New World vanishes,--now a line, now a
speck; let us turn away, with the face to the Old. Amongst my fellow-
passengers how many there are returning home disgusted, disappointed,
impoverished, ruined, throwing themselves again on those unsuspecting
poor friends who thought they had done with the luckless good-for-noughts
forever. For don't let me deceive thee, reader, into supposing that
every adventurer to Australia has the luck of Pisistratus. Indeed,
though the poor laborer, and especially the poor operative from London
and the great trading towns (who has generally more of the quick knack of
learning,--the adaptable faculty,--required in a new colony, than the
simple agricultural laborer), are pretty sure to succeed, the class to
which I belong is one in which failures are numerous and success the
exception,--I mean young men with scholastic education and the habits of
gentlemen; with small capital and sanguine hopes. But this, in ninety-
nine times out of a hundred, is not the fault of the colony, but of the
emigrants. It requires not so much intellect as a peculiar turn of
intellect, and a fortunate combination of physical qualities, easy
temper, and quick mother-wit, to make a small capitalist a prosperous
Bushman. (3) And if you could see the sharks that swim round a man just
dropped at Adelaide or Sydney, with one or two thousand pounds in his
pocket! Hurry out of the towns as fast as you can, my young emigrant;
turn a deaf ear, for the present at least, to all jobbers and
speculators; make friends with some practised old Bushman; spend several
months at his station before you hazard your capital; take with you a
temper to bear everything and sigh for nothing; put your whole heart in
what you are about; never call upon Hercules when your cart sticks in the
rut,--and whether you feed sheep or breed cattle, your success is but a
question of time.
But whatever I owed to Nature, I owed also something to Fortune. I
bought my sheep at little more than 7s. each. When I left, none were
worth less than 15s., and the fat sheep were worth L1. (4) I had an
excellent shepherd, and my whole care, night and day, was the improvement
of the flock. I was fortunate, too, in entering Australia before the
system miscalled "The Wakefield" (5) had diminished the supply of labor
and raised the price of land. When the change came (like most of those
with large allotments and surplus capital), it greatly increased the
value of my own property, though at the cost of a terrible blow on the
general interests of the colony. I was lucky, too, in the additional
venture of a cattle-station, and in the breed of horses and herds, which,
in the five years devoted to that branch establishment, trebled the sum
invested therein, exclusive of the advantageous sale of the station. (6)
I was lucky, also, as I have stated, in the purchase and resale of lands,
at Uncle Jack's recommendation. And, lastly, I left in time, and escaped
a very disastrous crisis in colonial affairs, which I take the liberty of
attributing entirely to the mischievous crotchets of theorists at home
who want to set all clocks by Greenwich time, forgetting that it is
morning in one part of the world at the time they are tolling the curfew
in the other.
(1) Cowley: Ode to Light.
(2) Cowley on Town and Country. (Discourse on Agriculture.)
(3) How true are the following remarks:--
Action is the first great requisite of a colonist (that is, a pastoral or
agricultural settler). With a young man, the tone of his mind is more
important than his previous pursuits. I have known men of an active,
energetic, contented disposition, with a good flow of animal spirits, who
had been bred in luxury and refinement, succeed better than men bred as
farmers who were always hankering after bread and beer, and market
ordinaries of Old England... To be dreaming when you should be looking
after your cattle is a terrible drawback... There are certain persons
who, too lazy and too extravagant to succeed in Europe, sail for
Australia under the idea that fortunes are to be made there by a sort of
legerdemain, spend or lose their capital in a very short space of time,
and return to England to abuse the place, the people, and everything
connected with colonization.--Sydney. Australian Handbook (admirable for
its wisdom and compactness).
(4) Lest this seem an exaggeration, I venture to annex an extract from a
manuscript letter to the author from Mr. George Blakeston Wilkinson,
author of "South Australia"--
"I will instance the case of one person who had been a farmer in England,
and emigrated with about L2,000 about seven years since. On his arrival
he found that the prices of sheep had fallen from about 30s. to 5s. or
6s. per head, and he bought some well-bred flocks at these prices. He
was fortunate in obtaining a good and extensive run, and he devoted the
whole of his time to improving his flocks, and encouraged his shepherds
by rewards; so that in about four years his original number of sheep had
increased from twenty-five hundred (which cost him L700) to seven
thousand; and the breed and wool were also so much improved that he could
obtain L1 per head for two thousand fat sheep, and 15s. per head for the
other five thousand,--and this at a time when the general price of sheep
was from 10s. to 16s. This alone increased his original capital,
invested in sheep, from L700 to L5,700. The profits from the wool paid
the whole of his expenses and wages for his men."
(5) I felt sure from the first that the system called "The Wakefield"
could never fairly represent the ideas of Mr. Wakefield himself, whose
singular breadth of understanding and various knowledge of mankind belied
the notion that fathered on him the clumsy execution of a theory wholly
inapplicable to a social state like Australia. I am glad to see that he
has vindicated himself from the discreditable paternity. But I grieve to
find that he still clings to one cardinal error of the system, in the
discouragement of small holdings, and that he evades, more ingeniously
than ingenuously, the important question: "What should be the minimum
price of land?"
(6) The profits of cattle-farming are smaller than those of the sheep-
owner (if the latter have good luck; for much depends upon that), but
cattle-farming is much more safe as a speculation, and less care,
knowledge, and management are required. L2,000 laid out on seven hundred
head of cattle, if good runs be procured, might increase the capital in
five years from L2,000 to L6,000, besides enabling the owner to maintain
himself, pay wages, etc.--Manuscript letter from G. B. Wilkinson.