A TRIP TO ENGLAND.
I have gone on with the story of my three first novels consecutively,
anticipating the current history of myself and South Australia. There
were three great steps taken in the development of Australia. The first
was when McArthur introduced the merino sheep; the second when
Hargreaves and others discovered gold; and the latest when cold-storage
was introduced to make perishable products available for the European
markets. The second step created a sudden revolution; but the others
were gradual, and the area of alluvial diggings in Victoria made
thousands of men without capital or machinery rush to try their
fortunes--first from the adjacent colonies, and afterwards from the
ends of the earth. Law and order were kept on the goldfields of Mount
Alexander, Bendigo, and Ballarat by means of a strong body of police,
and the high licence fees for claims paid for their services, so that
nothing like the scenes recorded of the Californian diggings could be
permitted. But for the time ordinary industries were paralysed.
Shepherds left their flocks, farmers their land, clerks their desks,
and artisans their trades. Melbourne grew apace in spite of the highest
wages known being exacted by masons and carpenters. Pastoralists
thought ruin stared them in the face till they found what a market the
goldfields offered for their surplus stock. Our South Australian
farmers left their holdings in the hands of their wives and children
too young to take with them, but almost all of them returned to grow
grain and produce to send to Victoria. It was astonishing what the
women had done during their absence. The fences were kept repaired and
the stock attended to, the grapes gathered, and the wine made. In these
days it was not so easy to get 80 acres or more in Victoria; so, with
what the farmers brought from their labours on the goldfields, they
extended their holdings and improved their homes. For many years the
prices in Melbourne regulated prices in Adelaide, but when the land was
unlocked and the Victorian soil and climate were found to be as good as
ours it was Mark lane that fixed prices over all Australia for primary
products. After the return of most of the diggers there was a great
deal of marrying and giving in marriage. The miners who had left the
Burra for goldseeking gradually came back, and the nine remarkable
copper mines of Moonta and Wallaroo attracted the Cornishmen, who
preferred steady wages and homes to the diminishing chances of Ballarat
and Bendigo where machinery and deep sinking demanded capital, and the
miners were paid by the week. These new copper mines were found in the
Crown leases held by Capt. (afterwards Sir Walter) Hughes. He had been
well dealt with by Elder, Smith, & Co., and gave them the opportunity
of supporting him. At that time my friends Edward Stirling and John
Taylor were partners in that firm, and they shared in the success. Mr.
Bakewell belonged to the legal firm which did their business, so that
my greatest friends seemed to be in it. I think my brother John
profited less by the great advance of South Australia than he deserved
for sticking to the Bank of South Australia. He got small rises in his
salary, but the cost of living was so enhanced that at the end of seven
years it did not buy much more than the 100 pounds he had begun with.
My eldest maiden aunt died, and left to her brother and sister in South
Australia all she had in her power. My mother bought a brick cottage in
Pulteney street and a Burra share with her legacy--both excellent
investments--and my brother left the bank and went into the aerated
water business with James Hamilton Parr.
We made the acquaintance of the family of Mrs. Francis Clark, of
Hazelwood, Burnside. She was the only sister of five clever
brothers--Matthew Davenport, Rowland, Edwin, Arthur, and Frederick
Hill. Rowland is best known, but all were remarkable men. She was so
like my mother in her sound judgment, accurate observation, and kind
heart, that I was drawn to her at once. But it was Miss Clark who
sought an introduction to me at a ball, because her uncle Rowland had
written to her that "Clara Morison," the new novel, was a capital story
of South Australian life. She was the first person to seek me out on
account of literary work, and I was grateful to her. I think all the
brothers Hill wrote books, and Rosamond and Florence Davenport Hill had
just published "Our Exemplars." My friendship with Miss Clark led to
much work together, and the introduction was a great widening of
interests for me. There were four sons and three daughters--Miss Clark
and Howard were the most literary, but all had great ability and
intelligence. They were Unitarians, and W. J. Wren, my brother-in-law,
was also a Unitarian, and had been one of the 12 Adelaide citizens who
invited out a minister and guaranteed his salary. I was led to hear
what the Rev. J. Crawford Woods had to say for that faith, and told my
old minister (Rev. Robert Haining) that for three months I would hear
him in the morning and Mr. Woods in the evening, and read nothing but
the Bible as my guide; and by that time I would decide. I had been
induced to go to the Sacrament at 17, with much heart searching, but
when I was 25 I said I could not continue a communicant, as I was not a
converted Christian. This step greatly surprised both Mr. and Mrs.
Haining, as I did not propose to leave the church. The result of my
three months' enquiry was that I became a convinced Unitarian, and the
cloud was lifted from the universe. I think I have been a most cheerful
person ever since. My mother was not in any way distressed, though she
never separated from the church of her fathers. My brother was as
completely converted as I was, and he was happy in finding a wife like
minded. My sister, Mrs. Wren, also was satisfied with the new faith; so
that she and her husband saw eye to eye. It was a very live
congregation in those early days. We liked our pastor, and we admired
his wife, and there were a number of interesting and clever people who
went to the Wakefield Street Church.
It was rather remarkable that my sister's husband and my brother's wife
arrived on the same day in two different ships--one in the Anglier from
England, and the other in the Three Bells from Glasgow--in 1851; but I
did not make the acquaintance of either till 1854 and 1855. Jessie
Cumming and Mary Spence shook hands and formed a friendship over
Carlyle's "Sartor Resartus." My brother-in-law (W. J. Wren) had fine
literary tastes, especially for poetry. The first gift to his wife
after marriage was Elizabeth Browning's poems in two volumes and Robert
Browning's "Plays and Dramatic Lyrics" in two volumes, and Mary and I
delighted in them all. In those days I considered my sister Mary and my
sister-in-law the most brilliant conversationalists I knew. My elder
sister, Mrs. Murray, also talked very well--so much so that her
husband's friends and visitors fancied she must write a lot of his
articles; but none of the three ladies went beyond writing good
letters. I think all of them were keener of sight than I was--more
observant of features, dress, and manners; but I took in more by the
ear. As Sir Walter Scott says, "Speak that I may know thee." To my
mind, dialogue is more important for a novel than description; and, if
you have a firm grasp of your characters, the dialogue will be true.
With me the main difficulty was the plot; and I was careful that this
should not be merely possible, but probable. I have heard scores of
people say that they have got good plots in their heads, and when
pressed to tell them they proved to be only incidents. You need much
more than an incident, or even two or three, with which to make a book.
But when I found my plot the story seemed to write itself, and the
actors to fit in.
When the development of the Moonta Mine made some of my friends rich
they were also liberal. Edward Stirling said that if I wanted a trip to
England I should have it at his cost, but it seemed impossible. After
the death of Mr. Wren my mother and I went to live with my sister, and
put two small incomes together, so as to be able to bring up and
educate her two children, a boy and a girl. My brother John had left
the railway, and for nine years had been Official Assignee and Curator
of Intestate Estates; and in 1863 he had been appointed manager of the
new Adelaide branch of the English, Scottish, and Australian Bank. My
friend, Mr. Taylor, had helped well to get the position for one he
thought the fittest man in the city. He had lost his wife, Miss Mary
Ann Dutton when on a visit to England, and at this time was engaged to
Miss Harriet McDermott. His sisters both were very cold about the
engagement. They did not like second marriages at all, and considered
it a disrespect to the first wife's memory, even though a decent
interval had elapsed. When he wrote to me about it I took quite a
different view. He said it was the kindest and the wisest letter I had
ever written in my life, and he knew I had loved his late wife very
much. He came to thank me, and to tell me that he had always wished
that I should be in England at the time he was there, and that he was
going in a P. & 0. boat immediately after his marriage. Although Mr.
Stirling had promised to pay my passage, I hesitated about going. There
were my mother, who was 72, and my guardianship of the Duvals to think
about. I had also undertaken the oversight of old Mrs. Stephens, the
widow of one of the early proprietors of The Register. These objections
were all overruled. I still hesitated. "I cannot go unless I have money
to spend," I urged. "Let me do that," was the generous reply.--"I have
left you 500 pounds in my will. Let me have the pleasure of giving you
something while I live." I was not too proud to owe that memorable
visit to England to my two good friends. John Taylor had put into my
hands on board the Goolwa, in which I sailed, a draft for 200 pounds
for my spending money, and in the new will he made after his marriage
he bequeathed me 300 pounds. I said "Goodby" to him, with good wishes
for his health and happiness. I never saw him again. He took a sickly
looking child on his knee when crossing the Isthmus of Suez--there was
no canal in 1864--to relieve a weary mother. The child had smallpox,
and my friend took it and died of it. He was being buried beside his
first wife at Brighton when the Goolwa sailed up the Channel after a
passage of 14 weeks--as long as that of the Palmyra 25 years
before--and the first news we heard was that Miss Taylor had lost a
brother, the children a favourite uncle, and I, a friend. It was a sad
household, but the Bakewells were in London on business connected with
some claims of discovery of the Moonta Mines, and they took me to their
house in Palace Gardens. Kensington, till I could arrange to go to my
aunt's in Scotland. All our plans about seeing people and places
together were, of course, at an end. I was to go "a lone hand." Mrs.
Taylor had a posthumous son, who never has set foot in Australia. She
married a second time, an English clergyman named Knight, and had
several sons, but she has never revisited Adelaide, although she has
many relatives here. So the friend who loved Australia, and was eager
to do his duty by it--who thoroughly approved of the Hare system of
representation, and thought I did well to take it up, was snatched away
in the prime of life. I wonder if there is any one alive now to whom
his memory is as precious. The Register files may preserve some of his
work.
At Palace Gardens the Bakewell family were settled in a furnished house
belonging to Col. Palmer, one of the founders of South Australia,
though never a resident. Palmer place, North Adelaide, bears his name.
Thackeray's house we had to pass when we went out of the street in the
direction of the city. His death had occurred in the previous year. I
had an engagement with Miss Julia Wedgwood, through an introduction
given by Miss Sophia Sinnett, an artist sister of Frederick Sinnett's.
I was called for and sent home. I was not introduced to the family. It
was a fine large house with men servants and much style. Miss Wedgwood,
who was deaf, used an ear trumpet very cleverly. I found her as
delightful as Miss Sinnett had represented her to be, and I discovered
that Miss Sinnett had been governess to her younger sisters, but that
there was real regard for her. I don't know that I ever spent a more
delightful evening. She had just had Browning's "Dramatis Personae,"
and we read together "Rabbi Ben Ezira" and "Prospice." She knew about
the Hare scheme of representation, supported by Mill and Fawcett and
Craik. She was a good writer, with a fine critical faculty. Everything
signed by her name in magazines or reviews was thenceforward
interesting to me. I promised her a copy of my "Plea for Pure
Democracy," which she accepted and appreciated. By the father's side
she was a granddaughter of Josiah Wedgwood, the founder of British
pottery as a fine art. Her mother was a daughter of Sir James
Mackintosh. Mrs. Wedgwood was so much pleased with my pamphlet that she
wanted to be introduced to me, and when I returned to London I had the
pleasure of making her acquaintance. Miss Wedgwood gave me a
beautifully bound copy of "Men and Women," of which she had a
duplicate, which I cherish in remembrance of her.
During my stay I was visited by Mr. Hare. I had to face up to the
people I had written to with no idea of any personal communication, and
I must confess that I felt I must talk well to retain their good
opinion. I promised to pay a visit to the Hares when I came to London
for the season. He was a widower with eight children, whom he had
educated with the help of a governess, but he was the main factor in
their training. The two eldest daughters were married--Mrs. Andrews,
the eldest, had helped him in his calculations for his great book on
"Representation." His second daughter was artistic, and was married to
John Westlake, an eminent lawyer, great in international law, a pupil
of Colenso, who was then in London, and who was the best-abused man in
the church. Another visitor was George Cowan, a great friend of my late
brother-in-law, Mr. W. J. Wren, who wrote to him till his death, when
the pen was taken up by my sister Mary till her death, and then I
corresponded with him till his death. He came to London a raw Scotch
lad, and met Mr. Wren at the Whittington Club. Both loved books and
poetry, and both were struggling to improve themselves on small
salaries. George Cowan had been entrusted with the printed slips of
"Uphill Work," and had tried it at two publishers without success. I
had to delay any operations till I returned to London, and promised to
visit the Cowans there.