Sydney--Prosperity--Excursion to Bathurst--Aspect of woods--Party
of Natives--Gradual extinction of aborigines--Blue Mountains
--Weatherboard--View of a grand gulf-like valley--Sheep farm
--Lion-ant--Bathurst, general civility of lower orders--State of
society--Van Diemen’s Land--Hobart Town--Aborigines all banished
--Mount Wellington--King George’s Sound--Cheerless aspect of
country--Bald Head, calcareous casts like branches of trees--Party
of natives--Leave Australia.
AUSTRALIA.
JANUARY 12TH, 1836.--Early in the morning, a light air carried us
towards the entrance of Port Jackson. Instead of beholding a verdant
country scattered over with fine houses: a straight line of yellowish
cliff brought to our minds the coast of Patagonia. A solitary
lighthouse, built of white stone, alone told us we were near a great
and populous city. Having entered the harbour, it appeared fine and
spacious; but the level country, showing on the cliff-formed shores
bare and horizontal strata of sandstone, was covered by woods of thin
scrubby trees, that bespoke useless sterility. Proceeding further
inland, the country improved; beautiful villas and nice cottages
were here and there scattered along the beach. In the distance stone
houses, two and three stories high, and windmills, standing on the
edge of a bank, pointed out to us the neighbourhood of the capital of
Australia.
At last we anchored within Sydney Cove. We found the little basin
occupied by many large ships, and surrounded by warehouses. In the
evening I walked through the town, and returned full of admiration
at the whole scene. It is a most magnificent testimony to the power
of the British nation. Here, in a less promising country, scores
of years have effected many times more, than the same number of
centuries have done in South America. My first feeling was to
congratulate myself that I was born an Englishman. Upon seeing more
of the town afterwards, perhaps my admiration fell a little; but yet
it is a fine town; the streets are regular, broad, clean, and kept in
excellent order; the houses are of a good size, and the shops well
furnished. It may be faithfully compared to the large suburbs, which
stretch out from London and a few other great towns in England: but
not even near London or Birmingham is there an appearance of such
rapid growth. The number of large houses just finished and others
building was truly surprising; nevertheless, every one complained
of the high rents and difficulty in procuring a house. In the
streets, gigs, phaetons, and carriages with livery servants, were
driving about; and of the latter, many were extremely well equipped.
Coming from South America, where in the towns every man of property
is known, no one thing surprised me more than not being able to
ascertain readily to whom this or that carriage belonged.
Many of the older residents say, that formerly they knew every face
in the colony, but now that in a morning’s ride it is a chance if
they know one. Sydney has a population of twenty-three thousand,
and is rapidly increasing: it must contain much wealth. It appears
that a man of business can hardly fail to make a large fortune.
I saw on all sides fine houses,--one built from the profits of
steam-vessels,--another from building, and so on. An auctioneer, who
was a convict, it is said, intends to return home, and will take with
him 100,000 pounds. Another has an income so large that scarcely any
body ventures to guess at it--the least sum assigned being fifteen
thousand a year. But the two crowning facts are,--first, that the
public revenue has increased 60,000_l._ during this last year; and
secondly, that less than an acre of land within the town of Sydney
sold for 8000_l._ sterling.
I hired a man and two horses to take me to Bathurst; a village about
one hundred and twenty miles in the interior, and the centre of a
great pastoral district. By this means I hoped to get a general
idea of the appearance of the country. On the morning of the 16th
(January) I set out on my excursion. The first stage took us to
Paramatta, a small country-town, the second to Sydney in importance.
The roads were excellent, and made upon the MacAdam principle:
whinstone having been brought for the purpose from the distance of
several miles. The road appeared much frequented by all sorts of
carriages; and I met two stage-coaches. In all these respects there
was a close resemblance to England; perhaps the number of alehouses
was here in excess. The iron gangs, or parties of convicts, who
have here committed some trifling offence, appeared the least like
England; they were working in chains, under the charge of sentries
with loaded arms. The power, which the government possesses, by
means of forced labour, of at once opening good roads throughout the
country, has been, I believe, one main cause of the early prosperity
of this colony.
I slept at night at a very comfortable inn at Emu ferry, thirty-five
miles from Sydney, and near the ascent of the Blue Mountains. This
line of road is the most frequented, and has been longest inhabited
of any in the colony. The whole land is enclosed with high railings,
for the farmers have not succeeded in rearing hedges. There are many
substantial houses and good cottages scattered about; but although
considerable pieces of land are under cultivation, the greater part
yet remains as when first discovered. Making allowances for the
cleared parts, the country here resembled all that I saw during the
ten succeeding days.
The extreme uniformity of the vegetation is the most remarkable
feature in the landscape of the greater part of New South Wales.
Every where we have an open woodland; the ground being partially
covered with a very thin pasture. The trees nearly all belong to
one family; and mostly have the surface of their leaves placed in a
vertical, instead of as in Europe, a nearly horizontal position: the
foliage is scanty, and of a peculiar, pale green tint, without any
gloss. Hence the woods appear light and shadowless: this, although
a loss of comfort to the traveller under the scorching rays of
summer, is of importance to the farmer, as it allows grass to grow
where it otherwise could not. The leaves are not shed periodically:
this character appears common to the entire southern hemisphere,
namely, South America, Australia, and the Cape of Good Hope. The
inhabitants of this hemisphere and of the intertropical regions, thus
lose perhaps one of the most glorious, though to our eyes common,
spectacles in the world,--the first bursting into full foliage of
the leafless tree. They may, however, say that we pay dearly for
our spectacle, by having the land covered with mere naked skeletons
for so many months. This is too true; but our senses thus acquire a
keen relish for the exquisite green of the spring, which the eyes
of those living within the tropics, sated during the long year
with the gorgeous productions of those glowing climates, can never
experience. The greater number of the trees, with the exception of
some of the blue gums, do not attain a large size; but they grow
tall and tolerably straight, and stand well apart. The bark of some
falls annually, or hangs dead in long shreds, which swing about with
the wind; and hence the woods appear desolate and untidy. Nowhere is
there an appearance of verdure, but rather that of arid sterility. I
cannot imagine a more complete contrast in every respect than between
the forests of Valdivia, or Chiloe, and the woods of Australia.
Although this colony flourishes so remarkably, the appearance of
infertility is to a certain degree real. The soil without doubt is
good, but there is so great a deficiency both of rain and running
water, that it cannot produce much. The agricultural crops, and often
those in gardens, are estimated to fail once in three years; and
this has even happened on successive years. Hence the colony cannot
supply itself with the bread and vegetables, which its inhabitants
consume. It is essentially pastoral, and chiefly so for sheep, and
not the larger quadrupeds. The alluvial land near Emu ferry was some
of the best cultivated which I saw; and certainly the scenery on the
banks of the Nepean, bounded to the west by the Blue Mountains, was
pleasing even to the eye of a person thinking of England.
At sunset, a party of a score of the black aborigines passed by,
each carrying, in their accustomed manner, a bundle of spears and
other weapons. By giving a leading young man a shilling, they were
easily detained, and threw their spears for my amusement. They were
all partly clothed, and several could speak a little English; their
countenances were good-humoured and pleasant; and they appeared
far from being such utterly degraded beings as they are usually
represented. In their own arts they are admirable: a cap being fixed
at thirty yards distance, they transfixed it with a spear, delivered
by the throwing-stick, with the rapidity of an arrow from the bow
of a practised archer. In tracking animals or men they show most
wonderful sagacity; and I heard of several of their remarks which
manifested considerable acuteness. They will not, however, cultivate
the ground, or build houses and remain stationary, or even take the
trouble of tending a flock of sheep when given to them. On the whole
they appear to me to stand some few degrees higher in the scale of
civilization than the Fuegians.
It is very curious thus to see in the midst of a civilized people, a
set of harmless savages wandering about without knowing where they
shall sleep at night, and gaining their livelihood by hunting in the
woods. As the white man has travelled onwards, he has spread over the
country belonging to several tribes. These, although thus enclosed by
one common people, keep up their ancient distinctions, and sometimes
go to war with each other, in an engagement which took place lately,
the two parties most singularly chose the centre of the village
of Bathurst, for the field of battle. This was of service to the
defeated side, for the runaway warriors took refuge in the barracks.
The number of aborigines is rapidly decreasing. In my whole ride,
with the exception of some boys brought up in the houses, I saw only
one other party; these were rather more numerous than the first, and
not so well clothed. This decrease, no doubt, must be partly owing to
the introduction of spirits, to European diseases (even the milder
ones of which, as the measles,[1] prove very destructive), and to
the gradual extinction of the wild animals. It is said that numbers
of their children invariably perish in very early infancy from the
effects of their wandering life. As the difficulty of procuring food
increases, so must their wandering habits; and hence the population,
without any apparent deaths from famine, is repressed in a manner
extremely sudden compared to what happens in civilized countries,
where the father may add to his labour, without destroying his
offspring.
Besides these several evident causes of destruction, there appears
to be some more mysterious agency generally at work. Wherever the
European has trod, death seems to pursue the aboriginal. We may look
to the wide extent of the Americas, Polynesia, the Cape of Good Hope,
and Australia, and we shall find the same result. Nor is it the white
man alone, that thus acts the destroyer; the Polynesian of Malay
extraction has in parts of the East Indian archipelago, thus driven
before him the dark-coloured native. The varieties of man seem to act
on each other; in the same way as different species of animals--the
stronger always extirpating the weaker. It was melancholy at New
Zealand to hear the fine energetic natives saying, they knew the land
was doomed to pass from their children. Every one has heard of the
inexplicable reduction of the population in the beautiful and healthy
island of Tahiti since the date of Captain Cook’s voyages: although
in that case we might have expected it would have been otherwise; for
infanticide, which formerly prevailed to so extraordinary a degree,
has ceased, and the murderous wars have become less frequent.
The Rev. J. Williams, in his interesting work,[2] says, that the
first intercourse between natives and Europeans, “is invariably
attended with the introduction of fever, dysentery, or some other
disease, which carries off numbers of the people.” Again he affirms,
“It is certainly a fact, which cannot be controverted, that most of
the diseases which have raged in the islands during my residence
there, have been introduced by ships;[3] and what renders this fact
remarkable is, that there might be no appearance of disease among
the crew of the ship, which conveyed this destructive importation.”
This statement is not quite so extraordinary as it at first appears;
for several cases are on record of the most malignant fevers having
broken out, although the parties themselves, who were the cause,
were not affected. In the early part of the reign of George III., a
prisoner who had been confined in a dungeon, was taken in a coach
with four constables before a magistrate; and, although the man
himself was not ill, the four constables died from a short putrid
fever; but the contagion extended to no others. From these facts
it would almost appear as if, the effluvium of one set of men shut
up for some time together, was poisonous when inhaled by others
(and perhaps more so, if the men be of different races). Mysterious
as this circumstance appears to be, it is not more surprising than
that the body of one’s fellow-creature, directly after death, and
before putrefaction has commenced, should often be of so deleterious
a quality, that the mere puncture from an instrument used in its
dissection should prove fatal.
JANUARY 17TH.--Early in the morning we passed the Nepean in a
ferry-boat. The river, although at this spot both broad and deep,
had a very small body of running water. Having crossed a low piece
of land on the opposite side, we reached the slope of the Blue
Mountains. The ascent is not steep, the road having been cut with
much care on the side of a sandstone cliff. At no great elevation
an almost level plain extends, which, rising imperceptibly to the
westward, at last attains a height of more than three thousand feet.
From so grand a title as Blue Mountains, and from their absolute
altitude, I expected to have seen a bold chain of mountains crossing
the country; but instead of this, a sloping plain presents merely
an inconsiderable front to the low land of the coast. From this
first slope, the view of the extensive woodland to the eastward,
was striking, and the surrounding trees grew bold and lofty. But
when once on the sandstone platform, the scenery becomes exceedingly
monotonous; each side of the road is bordered by scrubby trees of
the never-failing Eucalyptus family; and with the exception of
two or three small inns, there are no houses, or cultivated land:
the road, moreover, is solitary; the most frequent object being a
bullock-waggon, piled up with bales of wool.
In the middle of the day we baited our horses at a little inn,
called the Weatherboard. The country here is elevated 2800 feet
above the sea. About a mile and a half from this place, there is a
view exceedingly well worth visiting. By following down a little
valley and its tiny rill of water, an immense gulf is unexpectedly
seen through the trees which border the pathway, at the depth of
perhaps 1500 feet. Walking on a few yards one stands on the brink of
a vast precipice, and below is the grand bay or gulf (for I know not
what other name to give it), thickly covered with forest. The point
of view is situated as if at the head of a bay, the line of cliff
diverging on each side, and showing headland behind headland, as on
a bold sea-coast. These cliffs are composed of horizontal strata of
whitish sandstone; and so absolutely vertical are they, that in many
places, a person standing on the edge, and throwing down a stone,
can see it strike the trees in the abyss below. So unbroken is the
line, that it is said, in order to reach the foot of the waterfall,
formed by this little stream, it is necessary to go a distance of
sixteen miles round. About five miles distant in front, another line
of cliff extends, which thus appears completely to encircle the
valley; and hence the name of bay is justified, as applied to this
grand amphitheatrical depression. If we imagine a winding harbour,
with its deep water surrounded by bold cliff-like shores, laid dry,
and a forest sprung up on its sandy bottom, we should then have the
appearance and structure here exhibited. This kind of view was to me
quite novel, and extremely magnificent.
In the evening, we reached the Blackheath. The sandstone plateau
has here attained the elevation of 3400 feet; and is covered, as
before, with the same kind of scrubby wood. From the road there were
occasional glimpses into a profound valley, of the same character as
the one described; but from the steepness and depth of its sides,
the bottom was scarcely ever to be seen. The Blackheath is a very
comfortable inn, kept by an old soldier; and it reminded me of the
small inns in North Wales. I was surprised to find that here, at the
distance of more than seventy miles from Sydney, fifteen beds could
be made up for travellers.
JANUARY 18TH.--Very early in the morning, I walked about three miles
to see Govett’s Leap: a view of a similar but even perhaps more
stupendous character than that near the Weatherboard. So early in
the day the gulf was filled with a thin blue haze, which, although
destroying the general effect, added to the apparent depth at which
the forest was stretched below the country on which we were standing.
Soon after leaving the Blackheath, we descended from the sandstone
platform by the pass of Mount Victoria. To effect this pass, an
enormous quantity of stone has been cut through; the design, and its
manner of execution, would have been worthy of any line of road in
England,--even that of Holyhead. We now entered upon a country less
elevated by nearly a thousand feet, and consisting of granite. With
the change of rock, the vegetation improved; the trees were both
finer, and stood further apart; and the pasture between them was a
little greener, and more plentiful.
At Hassan’s Walls, I left the high road, and made a short detour to
a farm called Walerawang; to the superintendent of which, I had a
letter of introduction from the owner in Sydney. Mr. Browne had the
kindness to ask me to stay the ensuing day, which I had much pleasure
in doing. This place offers an example of one of the large farming,
or rather sheep-grazing, establishments of the colony. Cattle and
horses are, however, in this case, rather more numerous than usual,
owing to some of the valleys being swampy, and producing a coarser
pasture. The sheep were 15,000 in number, of which the greater part
were feeding under the care of different shepherds, on unoccupied
ground, at the distance of more than a hundred miles, and beyond the
limits of the colony. Mr. Browne had just finished, this day, the
last of the shearing of seven thousand sheep; the rest being sheared
in another place. I believe the profit of the average produce of wool
from 15,000 sheep, would be more than 5000_l._ sterling. Two or three
flat pieces of ground near the house were cleared and cultivated with
corn, which the harvest men were now reaping: but no more wheat is
sown than sufficient for the annual support of the labourers employed
on the establishment. The usual number of assigned convict servants
here is about forty, but at the present time there were rather more.
Although the farm was well stocked with every requisite, there was
an apparent absence of comfort; and not even a single woman resided
here. The sunset of a fine day will generally cast an air of happy
contentment on any scene; but here, at this retired farm-house, the
brightest tints on the surrounding woods could not make me forget
that forty hardened, profligate men, were ceasing from their daily
labours, like the slaves from Africa, yet without their just claim
for compassion.
Early on the next morning, Mr. Archer, the joint superintendent, had
the kindness to take me out Kangaroo-hunting. We continued riding
the greater part of the day, but had very bad sport, not seeing a
kangaroo, or even a wild dog. The greyhounds pursued a kangaroo rat
into a hollow tree, out of which we dragged it: it is an animal as
big as a rabbit, but with the figure of a kangaroo. A few years
since, this country abounded with wild animals; but now the emu is
banished to a long distance, and the kangaroo is become scarce; to
both, the English greyhound is utterly destructive. It may be long
before these animals are altogether exterminated, but their doom is
fixed. The natives are always anxious to borrow the dogs from the
farm-houses: the use of them, the offal when an animal is killed, and
milk from the cows, are the peace-offerings of the settlers, who push
further and further towards the interior. The thoughtless aboriginal,
blinded by these trifling advantages, is delighted at the approach of
the white man, who seems predestined to inherit the country of his
children.
Although having bad sport, we enjoyed a pleasant ride. The woodland
is generally so open that a person on horseback can gallop through
it. It is traversed by a few flat-bottomed valleys, which are green
and free from trees: in such spots the scenery was like that of
a park, and pretty. In the whole country I scarcely saw a place
without the marks of fire; whether these had been more or less
recent--whether the stumps were more or less black, was the greatest
change which varied the uniformity, so wearisome to the traveller’s
eye. In these woods there are not many birds; I saw, however, some
large flocks of the white cockatoo feeding in a corn-field, and a few
most beautiful parrots; crows like our jackdaws were not uncommon,
and another bird something like the magpie. The English have not been
very particular in giving names to the productions of Australia;
trees of one genus (Casuarina) are called oaks for no one reason
that I can discover, without it is that there is no one point of
resemblance. Some quadrupeds are called tigers and hyenas, simply
because they are carnivorous, and so on in many other cases.
In the dusk of the evening I took a stroll along a chain of ponds,
which in this dry country represented the course of a river, and
had the good fortune to see several of the famous Platypus, or
_Ornithorhyncus paradoxus_. They were diving and playing about the
surface of the water, but showed so little of their bodies that they
might easily have been mistaken for water-rats. Mr. Browne shot one:
certainly it is a most extraordinary animal; the stuffed specimens do
not at all give a good idea of the recent appearance of its head and
beak; the latter becoming hard and contracted.
A little time before this I had been lying on a sunny bank, and was
reflecting on the strange character of the animals of this country
as compared with the rest of the world. An unbeliever in every thing
beyond his own reason might exclaim, “Two distinct Creators must have
been at work; their object, however, has been the same, and certainly
the end in each case is complete.” While thus thinking, I observed
the hollow conical pitfall of the lion-ant: first a fly fell down the
treacherous slope and immediately disappeared; then came a large but
unwary ant; its struggles to escape being very violent, those curious
little jets of sand, described by Kirby[4] as being flirted by the
insects tail, were promptly directed against the expected victim.
But the ant enjoyed a better fate than the fly, and escaped the fatal
jaws which lay concealed at the base of the conical hollow. There can
be no doubt but that this predacious larva belongs to the same genus
with the European kind, though to a different species. Now what would
the sceptic say to this? Would any two workmen ever have hit upon so
beautiful, so simple, and yet so artificial a contrivance? It cannot
be thought so: one Hand has surely worked throughout the universe.
JANUARY 20TH.--A long day’s ride to Bathurst. Before joining the high
road we followed a mere path through the forest; and the country,
with the exception of a few squatters’ huts, was very solitary. A
“squatter” is a freed, or “ticket of leave” man, who builds a hut
with bark on unoccupied ground, buys or steals a few animals, sells
spirits without a licence, receives stolen goods,--and so at last
becomes rich and turns farmer: he is the horror of all his honest
neighbours. A “crawler” is an assigned convict, who runs away, and
lives how he can, by labour and petty theft. The “bush ranger” is an
open villain, who subsists by highway robbery and plunder: generally
he is desperate, and will sooner be killed than taken alive. In the
country it is necessary to understand these three names, for they are
in common use.
This day we experienced the sirocco-like wind of Australia, which
comes from the parched deserts of the interior. Clouds of dust were
travelling in every direction; and the wind felt like that which has
passed over a fire. I afterwards heard that the thermometer out of
doors stood at 119°, and in a room in a closed house at 96°. In the
afternoon we came in view of the downs of Bathurst. These undulating,
but nearly level plains are very remarkable in this country, from
being absolutely destitute of a single tree. They support only a very
thin brown pasture. We rode some miles across this kind of country,
and then reached the township of Bathurst, which is seated in the
middle of what may be called either a very broad valley or narrow
plain.
Bathurst has a singular and not very inviting appearance. Groups
of small houses and a few large ones are scattered rather thickly
over two or three miles of a bare country, which is divided into
numerous fields by lines of rails. A good many gentlemen live in the
neighbourhood, and some possess very comfortable houses. A hideous
little red brick church stands by itself on a hill; and barracks
and government buildings occupy the centre of the township. I was
told not to form too bad an opinion of the country by judging from
that on the road-side, nor too good a one from Bathurst; in this
latter respect I did not feel myself in the least danger of being
prejudiced. It must be confessed that the season had been one of
great drought, and that the country did not wear a favourable aspect;
although I understand it was incomparably worse two or three months
before. The secret of the rapidly growing prosperity of Bathurst
is, that the brown pasture which appears to the stranger’s eye so
wretched is excellent for sheep-grazing.
The town stands on the banks of the Macquarie: this is one of the
rivers whose waters flow into the vast and scarcely known interior.
The line of watershed, which divides the inland streams from those of
the coast, has an elevation of about 3000 feet (Bathurst is 2200),
and runs in a north and south direction at the distance of about
eighty or a hundred miles from the sea-side. The Macquarie figures
in the map as a respectable river, and is the largest of those that
drain this part of the inland slope; yet to my surprise I found it a
mere chain of ponds, separated from each other by spaces almost dry.
Generally a small stream is running, and sometimes there are high and
impetuous floods. Scanty as the supply of the water is throughout
this district, it becomes still scantier further inland.
JANUARY 22D.--I commenced my return, and followed a new road, called
Lockyer’s Line, in which the country is rather more hilly and
picturesque. This was a long day’s ride; and the house where I wished
to sleep was some way off the road, and not easily found. I met on
this, and indeed on all other occasions, a very general and ready
civility among the lower orders; which, when one considers what they
are, and what they have been, would scarcely have been expected. The
farm where I passed the night was owned by two young men who had
only lately come out, and were beginning a settler’s life. The total
want of almost every comfort was not very attractive; but future and
certain prosperity was before their eyes, and that not far distant.
The next day we passed through large tracts of country in flames,
volumes of smoke sweeping across the road. Before noon we joined
our former track, and ascended Mount Victoria. I slept at the
Weatherboard, and before dark took another walk to the amphitheatre.
On the road to Sydney I spent a very pleasant evening with Captain
King at Dunheved: and thus ended my little excursion in the colony of
New South Wales.
Before arriving here the three things which interested me most
were,--the state of society amongst the higher classes, the condition
of the convicts, and the degree of attraction sufficient to induce
persons to emigrate. Of course, after so very short a visit one’s
opinion is worth scarcely any thing; but it is as difficult not to
form some opinion, as it is to form a correct judgment. On the whole,
from what I heard, more than from what I saw, I was disappointed in
the state of society. The whole community is rancorously divided into
parties on almost every subject. Among those, who from their station
in life ought to be the best, many live in such open profligacy, that
respectable people cannot associate with them. There is much jealousy
between the children of the rich emancipist and the free settlers;
the former being pleased to consider honest men as interlopers.
The whole population, poor and rich, are bent on acquiring wealth;
amongst the higher orders wool and sheep-grazing form the constant
subject of conversation. The very low ebb of literature is strongly
marked by the emptiness of the booksellers’ shops; for they are
inferior even to those in the smaller country-towns of England.
There are many serious drawbacks to the comforts of families; the
chief of which, perhaps, is being surrounded by convict servants. How
thoroughly odious to every feeling to be waited on by a man, who the
day before, perhaps, was flogged, from your representation, for some
trifling misdemeanor. The female servants are of course much worse;
hence children learn the vilest expressions, and it is fortunate if
not equally vile ideas.
On the other hand, the capital of a person without any trouble on
his part, produces him treble interest to what it will in England;
and with care he is sure to grow rich. The luxuries of life are in
abundance and very little dearer, and most articles of food cheaper,
than in England. The climate is splendid and quite healthy; but to
my mind its charms are lost by the uninviting aspect of the country.
Settlers possess a great advantage in finding their sons of service,
when very young. At the age of from sixteen to twenty they frequently
take charge of distant farming stations; this, however, must happen
at the expense of their boys associating entirely with convict
servants. I am not aware that the tone of society has assumed any
peculiar character; but with such habits, and without intellectual
pursuits, it can hardly fail to deteriorate. My opinion is such, that
nothing but rather severe necessity should compel me to emigrate.
The rapid prosperity and future prospects of this colony are to me,
not understanding these subjects, very puzzling. The two main exports
are wool and whale-oil; and to both of these productions there is
a limit. The country is totally unfit for canals; therefore there
is a line not very distant, beyond which the land carriage of wool
will not repay the expense of shearing and tending sheep. Pasture
every where is so thin, that settlers have already pushed far into
the interior: moreover the country further inland becomes extremely
poor. I have before said that agriculture can never succeed on a
very extended scale; therefore so far as I can see, Australia must
ultimately depend upon being the centre of commerce for the southern
hemisphere, and perhaps on her future manufactories. Possessing
coal, she always has the moving power at hand. From the habitable
country extending along the coast, and from her English extraction
she is sure to be a maritime nation. I formerly imagined that
Australia would rise to be as grand and powerful a country as North
America; but now it appears to me such future grandeur is rather
problematical.
With respect to the state of the convicts, I had still fewer
opportunities of judging than on other points. The first question
is, whether their condition is at all one of punishment: no one will
maintain that it is a very severe one. This, however, I suppose is
of little consequence as long as it continues to be an object of
dread to criminals at home. The corporeal wants of the convicts are
tolerably well supplied; their prospect of future liberty and comfort
is not distant, and after good conduct certain. A “ticket of leave,”
which, as long as a man keeps clear of suspicion as well as of crime,
makes him free within a certain district, is given upon good conduct
after years proportional to the length of the sentence. For life,
eight years is the time of probation; for seven years, four, &c. Yet
with all this, and overlooking the previous imprisonment and wretched
passage out, I believe the years of assignment are passed away with
discontent and unhappiness. As an intelligent man remarked to me,
the convicts know no pleasure beyond sensuality, and in this they
are not gratified. The enormous bribe which government possesses in
offering free pardons, together with the deep horror of the secluded
penal settlements, destroys confidence between the convicts, and
so prevents crime. As to a sense of shame, such a feeling does not
appear to be known, and of this I witnessed some very singular
proofs. Though it is a curious fact, I was universally told, that the
character of the convict population is one of arrant cowardice: not
unfrequently some become desperate and quite indifferent of life,
yet a plan requiring cool or continued courage is seldom put into
execution. The worst feature in the whole case is, that although
there exists what may be called a legal reform, and comparatively
little which the law can touch is committed, yet that any moral
reform should take place appears to be quite out of the question. I
was assured by well-informed people, that a man who should try to
improve, could not while living with other assigned servants:--his
life would be one of intolerable misery and persecution. Nor must
the contamination of the convict ships and prisons both here and
in England be forgotten. On the whole, as a place of punishment
the object is scarcely gained; as a real system of reform it has
failed, as perhaps would every other plan: but as a means of making
men outwardly honest,--of converting vagabonds most useless in one
hemisphere into active citizens of another, and thus giving birth to
a new and splendid country--a grand centre of civilization--it has
succeeded to a degree perhaps unparalleled in history.
VAN DIEMEN’S LAND.
JANUARY 30TH.--The Beagle sailed for Hobart Town in Van Diemen’s
Land. On the 5th of February, after a six days’ passage, of which the
first part was fine, and the latter very cold and squally, we entered
the mouth of Storm Bay: the weather justified this awful name. The
bay should rather be called an estuary, for it receives at its head
the waters of the Derwent. Near the mouth there are some extensive
basaltic platforms; but higher up, the land becomes mountainous and
is covered by a light wood. The lower parts of the hills which skirt
the bay are cleared; and the bright yellow fields of corn, and dark
green ones of potatoes appeared very luxuriant. Late in the evening
we anchored in the snug cove, on the shores of which stands the
capital of Tasmania, as Van Diemen’s Land is now called. The first
aspect of the place was very inferior to that of Sydney; the latter
might be called a city, this only a town.
In the morning I walked on shore. The streets are fine and broad;
but the houses rather scattered: the shops appeared good. The town
stands at the base of Mount Wellington, a mountain, 3100 feet high,
but of very little picturesque beauty: from this source, however, it
receives a good supply of water. Round the cove there are some fine
warehouses, and on one side a small fort. Coming from the Spanish
settlements, where such magnificent care has generally been paid to
the fortifications, the means of defence in these colonies appeared
very contemptible. Comparing the town to Sydney, I was chiefly struck
with the comparative fewness of the large houses, either built or
building. This circumstance must indicate that fewer people are
gaining large fortunes. The growth, however, of small houses has been
most abundant; and the vast number of little red brick dwellings,
scattered on the hill behind the town, sadly destroys its picturesque
appearance. Hobart Town, from the census of this year, contained
13,826 inhabitants, and the whole of Tasmania 36,505.
All the aborigines have been removed to an island in Bass’s Straits,
so that Van Diemen’s Land enjoys the great advantage of being free
from a native population. This most cruel step seems to have been
quite unavoidable, as the only means of stopping a fearful succession
of robberies, burnings, and murders, committed by the blacks; but
which sooner or later must have ended in their utter destruction. I
fear there is no doubt that this train of evil and its consequences,
originated in the infamous conduct of some of our countrymen.
Thirty years is a short period, in which to have banished the last
aboriginal from his native island,--and that island nearly as large
as Ireland. I do not know a more striking instance of the comparative
rate of increase of a civilized over a savage people.
The correspondence to show the necessity of this step, which took
place between the government at home and that of Van Diemen’s Land,
is very interesting: it is published in an appendix to Bischoff’s
History of Van Diemen’s Land. Although numbers of natives were
shot and taken prisoners in the skirmishing which was going on at
intervals for several years; nothing seems fully to have impressed
them with the idea of our overwhelming power, until the whole island,
in 1830, was put under martial law, and by proclamation the whole
population desired to assist in one great attempt to secure the
entire race. The plan adopted was nearly similar to that of the great
hunting-matches in India: a line reaching across the island was
formed, with the intention of driving the natives into a _cul-de-sac_
on Tasman’s peninsula. The attempt failed; the natives, having tied
up their dogs, stole during one night through the lines. This is far
from surprising, when their practised senses, and accustomed manner
of crawling after wild animals is considered. I have been assured
that they can conceal themselves on almost bare ground, in a manner
which until witnessed is scarcely credible. The country is every
where scattered over with blackened stumps, and the dusky natives are
easily mistaken for these objects. I have heard of a trial between a
party of Englishmen and a native who stood in full view on the side
of a bare hill. If the Englishmen closed their eyes for scarcely
more than a second, he would squat down, and then they were never
able to distinguish the man from the surrounding stumps. But to
return to the hunting-match; the natives understanding this kind of
warfare, were terribly alarmed, for they at once perceived the power
and numbers of the whites. Shortly afterwards a party of thirteen
belonging to two tribes came in; and, conscious of their unprotected
condition, delivered themselves up in despair. Subsequently by the
intrepid exertions of Mr. Robinson, an active and benevolent man, who
fearlessly visited by himself the most hostile of the natives, the
whole were induced to act in a similar manner. They were then removed
to Gun Carriage Island, where food and clothes were provided them. I
fear from what I heard at Hobart Town, that they are very far from
being contented: some even think the race will soon become extinct.
The Beagle staid here ten days, and in this time I made several
pleasant little excursions, chiefly with the object of examining
the geological structure of the immediate neighbourhood. The main
points of interest consist, first in the presence of certain
basaltic rocks which evidently have flowed as lava; secondly, in
some great unstratified masses of greenstone; thirdly, in proofs of
an exceedingly small rise of the land; fourthly, in some ancient
fossiliferous strata, probably of the age of the Silurian system
of Europe; and lastly, in a solitary and superficial patch of
yellowish limestone or travertin, which contains numerous impressions
of leaves of trees and plants, not now existing. It is not improbable
that this one small quarry, includes the only remaining record of the
vegetation of Van Diemen’s Land during one former epoch.
Mr. Frankland, the surveyor-general, was kind enough to give me much
interesting information, and to take me several pleasant rides. The
climate here is damper than in New South Wales, and hence the land
is more fertile. Agriculture flourishes here: the cultivated fields
looked well, and the gardens abounded with thriving vegetables and
fruit-trees. Some of the farm-houses, situated in retired spots, had
a very tempting appearance. The general aspect of the vegetation is
similar to that of Australia: perhaps it is a little more green and
cheerful; and the pasture between the trees rather more abundant. One
day I took a long walk on the side of the bay opposite to the town: I
crossed in a steam-boat, two of which are constantly plying backwards
and forwards. The machinery of one of these vessels was entirely
manufactured in this colony, which, from its very foundation then
numbered only three-and-thirty years! If I was obliged to emigrate, I
think I would choose this place in preference to Sydney: the climate
and aspect of the country alone would almost determine me. Moreover,
I suspect society is here on a pleasanter footing; certainly it is
free from the contamination of rich convicts, and the dissensions
consequent on the existence of two classes of wealthy residents. The
colony appeared extremely well governed; the streets at night being
kept even more orderly than those of an English town.
On another day I ascended Mount Wellington; I took with me a guide,
for I failed in a first attempt, from the thickness of the wood.
My guide, however, was a stupid fellow, and conducted us to the
southern and damp side of the mountain, where the vegetation was very
luxuriant, and the labour of the ascent, from the number of rotten
trunks, almost as great as on a mountain in Tierra del Fuego or in
Chiloe. It cost us five and a half hours of hard climbing before
we reached the summit. In many parts the gum-trees grew to a great
size, and the whole composed a noble forest. In some of the dampest
ravines, tree-ferns flourished in an extraordinary manner; I saw
one which must have been, at least, twenty feet high to the base of
the fronds, and was in girth exactly six feet. The foliage of these
trees, forming so many most elegant parasols, created a gloomy shade,
like that of the first hour of night. The summit of the mountain
is broad and flat, and is composed of huge angular masses of naked
greenstone. Its elevation is 3100 feet above the level of the sea.
The day was splendidly clear, and we enjoyed a most extensive view;
to the northward the country appeared a mass of wooded mountains,
of about the same elevation and tame outline with the one on which
we were standing: to the south, the outline of the broken land and
water, forming many intricate bays, was mapped with clearness before
us. After staying some hours on the summit, we found a better way to
descend, but did not reach the Beagle till eight o’clock, after a
severe day’s work.
FEBRUARY 17TH.--The Beagle sailed from Tasmania, and, on the 6th
of the ensuing month, reached King George’s Sound, situated near
the S.W. corner of Australia. We staid there eight days; and I do
not remember, since leaving England, having passed a more dull,
uninteresting time. The country, viewed from an eminence, appears
a woody plain, with here and there rounded and partly bare hills
of granite protruding. One day I went out with a party, in hopes
of seeing a kangaroo hunt, and walked over a good many miles of
country. Every where we found the soil sandy, and very poor; it
either supported a coarse vegetation of thin, low brushwood and
wiry grass, or a forest of stunted trees. The scenery resembled the
elevated sandstone platform of the Blue Mountains; the Casuarina (a
tree somewhat resembling a Scotch fir) is, however, here in greater
number, as the Eucalyptus is in rather less. In the open parts there
were many grass-trees;--a plant which, in appearance, has some
affinity with the palm; but, instead of being surmounted by a crown
of noble fronds, it can boast merely of a tuft of coarse grass. The
general bright green colour of the brushwood and other plants, viewed
from a distance, seemed to bespeak fertility. A single walk, however,
will quite dispel such an illusion; and he who thinks with me, will
never wish to walk again in so uninviting a country.
One day I accompanied Captain FitzRoy to Bald Head; the place
mentioned by so many navigators, where some imagined they saw coral,
and others petrified trees, standing in the position in which they
grew. According to our view, the rock was formed by the wind heaping
up calcareous sand, during which process, branches and roots of
trees, and land-shells were enclosed; the mass being afterward
consolidated by the percolation of rain-water. When the wood had
decayed, lime was washed into the cylindrical cavities, and became
hard, sometimes even like that in a stalactite. The weather is now
wearing away the softer rock, and in consequence the casts of roots
and branches project above the surface: their resemblance to the
stumps of a dead shrubbery was so exact, that, before touching them,
we were sometimes at a loss to know which were composed of wood, and
which of calcareous matter.
A large tribe of natives, called the White Cockatoo men, happened
to pay the town a visit while we were there. These men, as well as
those of the tribe belonging to King George’s Sound, being tempted
by the offer of some tubs of rice and sugar, were persuaded to hold
a “corrobery,” or great dancing-party. As soon as it grew dark,
small fires were lighted, and the men commenced their toilet, which
consisted in painting themselves white in spots and lines. As soon
as all was ready, large fires were kept blazing, round which the
women and children were collected as spectators; the Cockatoo and
King George’s men formed two distinct parties, and danced generally
in answer to each other. The dancing consisted in the whole set
running either sideways or in Indian file, into an open space, and
stamping the ground with great force as they marched together.
Their heavy footsteps were accompanied by a kind of grunt, and, by
beating their clubs and weapons, and various other gesticulations,
such as extending their arms, and wriggling their bodies. It was a
most rude, barbarous scene, and, to our ideas, without any sort of
meaning; but we observed that the women and children watched the
whole proceeding with the greatest pleasure. Perhaps these dances
originally represented some scenes, such as wars and victories;
there was one called the Emu dance, in which each man extended his
arm in a bent manner, so as to imitate the neck of that bird. In
another dance, one man took off the movements of a kangaroo grazing
in the woods, whilst a second crawled up, and pretended to spear
him. When both tribes mingled in the dance, the ground trembled with
the heaviness of their steps, and the air resounded with their wild
cries. Every one appeared in high spirits, and the group of nearly
naked figures, viewed by the light of the blazing fires, all moving
in hideous harmony, formed a perfect representation of a festival
amongst the lowest barbarians. In Tierra del Fuego, we have beheld
many curious scenes in savage life, but never, I think, one where the
natives were in such high spirits, and so perfectly at their ease.
After the dancing was over, the whole party formed a great circle on
the ground, and the boiled rice and sugar was distributed, to the
delight of all.
After several tedious delays from clouded weather, on the 14th of
March, we gladly stood out of King George’s Sound on our course to
Keeling Island. Farewell, Australia! you are a rising infant and
doubtless some day will reign a great princess in the south: but you
are too great and ambitious for affection, yet not great enough for
respect. I leave your shores without sorrow or regret.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] It is remarkable how the same disease is modified in different
climates. At the little island of St. Helena, the introduction of
scarlet fever is dreaded as a plague. In some countries, foreigners
and natives are as differently affected by certain contagious
disorders, as if they had been different animals; of which fact some
instances have occurred in Chile; and, according to Humboldt, in
Mexico. (Polit. Essay on Kingdom of New Spain, vol. iv.)
[2] Narrative of Missionary Enterprise, p. 282.
[3] Captain Beechey (chap. iv., vol. i.) states that the inhabitants
of Pitcairn Island, are firmly convinced that after the arrival
of every ship they suffer cutaneous and other disorders. Captain
Beechey attributes this to the change of diet during the time of the
visit. Dr. Macculloch (Western Isles, vol. ii., p. 32) says, “It is
asserted, that on the arrival of a stranger (at St. Kilda) all the
inhabitants, in the common phraseology, catch a cold.” Dr. Macculloch
considers the whole case, although often previously affirmed, as
ludicrous. He adds, however, that “the question was put by us to the
inhabitants who unanimously agreed in the story.” In Vancouver’s
Voyage, there is a somewhat similar statement with respect to
Otaheite: nor are these (as I believe) the only instances. Humboldt
(Polit. Essay on King. of New Spain, vol. iv.) says, that the great
epidemics at Panama and Callao are “marked” by the arrival of ships
from Chile, because the people from that temperate region, first
experience the fatal effects of the torrid zones. I may add, that
I have heard it stated in Shropshire, that sheep, which have been
imported from vessels, although themselves in a healthy condition, if
placed in the same fold with others, frequently produce sickness in
the flock.
[4] Kirby’s Entomology, vol. i., p. 425. The Australian pitfall is
only about half the size of the one made by the European species.