We had some congenial visitors at this time in two officers and the
artist belonging to H.M.S. _Fly_ and _Bramble_, which were visiting
Sydney occasionally, being on an exploring and surveying cruise among
the islands in the Pacific. The explorer Leichhardt also spent some
evenings at our house, my father taking so great an interest in the same
pursuits. It was very pleasant listening to their conversation on such
subjects. We also had men in the colony then worth listening to.
Responsible government had not yet been granted, and for the real
welfare of the country it would have been better if it had been withheld
another twenty years at least. Such men as Wentworth, Darvall, Cowper,
Windeyer, Lowe, and others, were fit to hold the reins, and knew how to
legislate, and would not sell its best interests as long as they
remained in power, as our later legislators have done.
We had two daily papers--the Sydney _Morning Herald_ and the _Empire_.
The latter became the political stepping-stone of the man whom some
consider the chief cause of the large liabilities of New South Wales. In
fact, nearly the whole of the Australian colonies have suffered through
their legislators being needy men without any knowledge of financial
matters,--men who were unable to finance their own small affairs, and
have only existed on polities while in place, and borrowing while out.
What would the children of the present day think of there being only one
toy-shop in Sydney--Reeves’s in Elizabeth Street,--where the lowest
priced doll was five shillings, a common box of toys half a crown? There
was another shop in Hunter Street where better class things could be
purchased, principally in wood and ivory. I have often been in both, and
since have seen the owner of the latter the companion of princes.
Fortune plays extraordinary pranks sometimes, and certainly in a new
country shows her usual fickleness more frequently than in older ones.
Impudence, assurance, egotism, and a supreme belief in one’s own ability
goes a long way with some people, and the everlasting _I_ is believed
in, and pushes its way to the front.
Nothing could be more beautiful than the views from our friend’s
verandah at Darling Point, the clear intensely blue sky and the small
islands covered with foliage dotted about the harbour. We used to sit
there for hours after dinner watching the beautiful effects of light and
shade on the sea. The mosquitoes were not so troublesome as in Sydney.
Such a splendid garden and orchard full of novelty to us
Londoners,--apricot, peach, nectarine, and bananas in blossom or fruit;
Norfolk Island pines, eucalyptus, cedars, camphor laurels, and numbers
of others I forget the names of. Beneath the gardens, on the rocks, we
could gather oysters _ad libitum_, taking a hammer to dislodge them, and
some bread and butter with porter for the elders. In this way we had
many a delicious impromptu lunch, and then started for a long walk to
Double and Rose Bays. There were no people’s grounds to trespass on
until we reached Point Piper, but green swards and trees, almost to the
water’s edge. Now there are gardens, terraced and flat, bathing-houses,
and jetties, where lie yachts and pleasure boats. Picnics were the chief
outdoor amusement (croquet and lawn-tennis were not known then): I
really think I have been to all the available spots for these sometimes
rather trying amusements, as with the thermometer at 90 to 100 degrees
in the shade you had mosquitoes and flies innumerable, and what with
ants of various sizes, and the horror of snakes, I often felt that “I
would rather remain at home and keep the skin on my nose.” Nevertheless
when there, I danced and sang with the rest. My brother started on a
fishing excursion with a friend one Saturday afternoon, intending to
return by moonlight. A southerly wind set in suddenly. They managed to
get under the lee of an island, and then made for Middle Harbour; but
their boat when near shelter capsized, and they with it were dashed
against the rocks. Both escaped without injury, excepting the boat. They
soon found an overhanging rock to shelter them, lighted a fire, and
determined to remain the night, taking off their clothes by degrees to
dry them, and then sat down to tea, damper, a smoke, and yarn. Presently
a bright light roused them. On looking round they saw their clothes were
on fire,--fortunately coats and hats only. The next morning they started
early to walk to the nearest ferry so as to arrive in Sydney during
church time. Such a disreputable pair made their appearance, footsore
and weary! I said, “You will not go fishing again in a hurry, H----;”
but he did, the next Saturday afternoon. Amusements were not plentiful
in Sydney,--only one theatre, and that too poor in every respect for a
family who had so recently seen the best in London. Concerts were
occasionally held in the large room of the Royal Hotel, and lectures at
the School of Arts. There were also some good private players and
singers.
The flower shows were a great treat, held in a large marquee in the
Domain. The display of flowers, fruit, and vegetables was most
interesting to us, consisting as it did of so much we had been
accustomed to consider rare or uncommon,--peaches, nectarines, loquats,
and passion fruit. Then the flowers,--camellias, Daphnes,
Bouganvilliers, Hoyas, Tecomas, and others I had never seen before. Now
we revelled in them. My mother even acknowledged, “We could not obtain
such in London.” At this time she would hardly allow that, as owing to
the present system of railways, flowers like these are brought from
Italy and the south of France in great quantities.
The Queen’s birthday was a great day for Sydney, a close holiday.
_Levée_ in the morning, a grand review in the afternoon, and the
evening for the ball at Government House, with a grand display of
bonfires and fireworks for the people. Can you imagine George Street
closely packed with people, with squibs, rockets, and crackers being let
off from one side of the street to the other, Catharine-wheels fastened
to pieces of wood and held aloft? I saw this from a window between
Market Street and the Royal Hotel in 184-. Saturday too for some years
in the same locality presented a great contrast to its present quiet.
The only market was very small, so carts, barrows, and baskets lined the
street, filled with everything the poorer class could want,--second-hand
clothes, boots, books, dairy produce, fruit, vegetables, poultry--in
fact a regular _Olla podrida_, as is at present displayed in the stalls
at “Paddy’s Market,” which was then only a hay market. A few months ago,
to my great astonishment, in going from one part of the west end to
another in London I was reminded of this; but the English street market
was in the daytime. We have nothing of the kind in Sydney, neither is
the pavement of our principal streets taken up by itinerant dealers
displaying mechanical toys, or taking in the unwary by selling them
wonderful bargains. Government House hospitalities were far more
exclusive than now, only a certain class had the _entrée_; but on the
Queen’s birthday the members of both Houses of Parliament, professional
men, civil servants, and merchants were invited. Shopkeepers were
excluded. What a change now! Ministers of the Government are
hotel-keepers, and members of Parliament keep shops or stores; but this
is gaining ground all over the world. Money makes the man, and if
impecunious peers and peeresses in England take to trade, surely our
colonists of every degree may try to legislate if they have education,
talent, and means. It is the needy, self-seeking politician who will say
and do anything to keep his place and pay, I object to. I hope for the
wellbeing of the country I love that in the future there will be
Australians who will legislate for the good of their country and not for
their own selfish interests. Now, alas, though there are some few,
disgusted with the present state of things, they cannot stem the power
of the majority created by manhood suffrage, giving every loafer an
equal voting power with the intelligent and honourable man.
I have been present at several birthday balls in the far-away days, and
could relate many amusing episodes, but will not, to raise a laugh at
the ignorance or _gaucherie_ of kindly people. Lady G----’s guests were
from all classes: some from the lonely “Bush” living in country style,
and only visiting Sydney once a year, who, if they were a little
awkward, or talked about dairies, poultry, and their children, thought
finger-glasses were “tumblers” and bonbons “fireworks,” were
warm-hearted, hospitable, and generous. “Being from the old country” was
a passport to admit the stranger to their hearths and homes. And I have
no doubt at this time in England there are many living in country places
the iron-horse has not yet reached just as unsophisticated, for even now
in this village, only one hour’s train ride from London, there is a
woman who never heard of false teeth, but thought “dentists could make
teeth grow.”
Boating and cricket were the principal recreations of the young men. My
father had belonged to one of the best cricket clubs in London, and I
had seen matches played at Lord’s; but he did not join in anything in
Sydney, devoting the whole of his spare time to entomology and botany.
My brother H---- belonged to both cricket and boat clubs. They used to
play on the racecourse in Elizabeth Street every evening. The new
racecourse at Homebush was a centre of attraction to many; but we were
not a racing family, so we never went. My parents were not fitted for
colonial life, having been always accustomed to London comforts and
amusements. My mother had no idea of housekeeping even there, keeping
the same experienced and faithful servants for years. Even if fortune
had proved kinder, she would never have liked the colony, and her five
years there, spent wearily and sadly, I am certain helped to kill her.
One of the few amusements then was the Military Band which played once a
week in the Barrack Square, and afterwards in the Domain, attracting all
the _élite_ and idlers of Sydney. Dress was displayed and criticism
indulged in. The drive in the Domain was the antipodean “Rotten Row.”
The baths in the Domain were owned and managed by one of our
fellow-passengers who had been home to see his friends in England. All
through the summer at some time in the day we went to have a delightful
bathe; most of the Australian women could swim.
The 26th of January, being the anniversary of the colony, was considered
young Australia’s. The Regatta was the event of the year. Races on land
were all very well; but the colonial “Vikings” revelled in their
beautiful harbour, almost living in it. And, alas, sometimes dying in
it!
One incident at this time made a deep impression on me. Two young men,
sons of one of our first Australian friends, with two others, were in
treaty for a boat, and being in Government offices, could only arrange
to go out on Sunday morning with the owner to try it, my friend calling
to his sister as he left, “I will be back in time to take you and mother
to church.” The others had been to early service, and were to meet at
Wooloomooloo Bay. When they left, it was a most lovely summer’s morning,
with very little wind. At the time I was staying at Darling Point, and
having dressed for church, was waiting in the verandah for my friends,
when one said, “Look, Miss L----, there is the ‘White Squall’ you sing
about.” In an instant the wind rose and the harbour was covered with
waves; we watched some boats hastening for shelter to one or other of
the numerous islands, and in less than an hour all was calm again. The
next morning the news came that my friends had not returned. Hour by
hour their anxious mother hoped on, but no tidings came, and never did,
nor will until “the sea gives up her dead.” A very sad circumstance
intensified my friend’s grief. Her eldest son had been in the constant
habit of boating on Sunday mornings until about two years before, when
his youngest sister, a schoolfellow of mine, died after a long illness
of consumption. She was a true Christian, and when dying fretted at her
brother’s Sunday boating, and as a last effort made him promise never to
go out boating on Sunday again, which promise he had kept until the
morning he was lost. Sunday was the only day he could go out, and no
doubt he was not so well able to manage a boat as heretofore. It was
supposed they had gone outside the “Heads” and were suddenly caught in
the squall, as not a vestige of the boat or its occupants was ever
found. My poor old friend was left with only one daughter, and she too
died young. As I had been dancing only a few nights before the accident
with the two others of the boating party, it was years before I could
look on the water without fear, and never went in a sailing-boat again.
One walk I shall never forget. We had waited for a friend who was
finishing her drawing lesson in Liverpool Street, near the corner of
Elizabeth Street; on turning down College Street I suggested going along
the South Head Road, now Oxford Street, and taking a short cut through
where they were quarrying stone for the new court-house, as I had passed
this way a few days previous on my way to Darling Point. As all were
agreeable, we soon entered the quarries; but what to see! A gang of men
chained together, with armed warders on either side guarding them. I
stood aghast! To my companions such sights were but too familiar; to
me, for many a day, it cast a shadow over all that once had appeared
beautiful. The face of one of the prisoners remained in my memory for
years--a weak, though handsome face. We shrank back as he raised his
dark eyes, and for a second when they met ours, the blush of shame could
be seen through his tanned skin. Who and what was he? I have often
thought since that he did not belong to the class of roughs that were
his companions in the gang. I was young and sensitive, and shall never
forget this, my first glimpse of the punishment of crime. That was the
only time I saw a gang of prisoners outside the prison walls. Since then
I became acquainted with the kindly family of the Governor of
Darlinghurst Gaol, and have spent many hours in his house, listening to
his daughters playing, or conversing with his amiable wife; but I could
not feel really happy, not being able to banish from my mind the
proximity to so much misery and crime.