PLACES ABOUT.
VISIT TO BALLARAT--THE JOURNEY BY COACH--BALLARAT FOUNDED ON
GOLD--DESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN--BALLARAT "CORNER"--THE SPECULATIVE
COBBLER--FIRE BRIGADES--RETURN JOURNEY--CRAB-HOLES--THE TALBOT
BALL--THE TALBOT FETE--THE AVOCA RACES--SUNRISE IN THE BUSH.
One of the most interesting visits to places that I made while staying
at Majorca was to Ballarat, the mining capital of the colony,
sometimes called here the Victorian Manchester. The time of my visit
was not the most propitious, for it was shortly after a heavy fall of
rain, which had left the roads in a very bad state. But I will
describe my journey.
Three of us hired a one-horse buggy to take us on to Clunes, which lay
in our way. The load was rather too much for the horse, but we took
turn and turn about at walking, and made it as light for the animal as
possible. At Clunes I parted with my companions, who determined to
take the buggy on to Ballarat. I thought it preferable to wait for the
afternoon coach; and after being hospitably entertained at dinner by
the manager of our Branch Bank at Clunes, I took my place in the coach
for Ballarat.
We had not gone more than about a mile when the metalled road ended,
and the Slough of Despond began,--the road so called, though it was
little more than a deep mud-track, winding up a steepish ascent. All
the passengers got out and walked up the hill. In the distance we saw
a buggy in difficulties. I had already apprehended the fate of my
mates who had gone on before me, and avoided sharing it by taking my
place in the coach. But we were in little better straits ourselves.
When we got up to the buggy, we found it fairly stuck in the mud, in
one of the worst parts of the road, with a trace broken. I got under
the rails of the paddock in which the coach passengers were
walking--for it was impossible to walk in the road--and crossed over
to where my former mates were stuck. They were out in the deep mud,
almost knee-deep, trying to mend the broken trace. Altogether they
looked in a very sorry plight.
At the top of the hill we again mounted the coach, and got on very
well for about three miles, until we came to another very bad piece of
road. Here we diverged from it altogether, and proceeded into an
adjoining field, so as to drive alongside the road, and join it a
little further on. The ground looked to me very soft, and so it was.
For we had not gone far when the coach gave a plunge, and the wheels
sank axle-deep in a crab-hole. All hands had now to set to work to
help the coach out of the mud; while the driver urged his horses with
cries and cracks of his long whip. But it was of no use. The two
wheelers were fairly exhausted, and their struggling only sent them
deeper into the mud. The horses were then unharnessed, and the three
strongest were yoked in a line, so as to give the foremost of them a
better foot-hold. But it was still of no use. It was not until the mud
round the wheels had been all dug out, and the passengers lifted the
hind wheels and the coach bodily up, that the horses were at last able
to extricate the vehicle. By this time we were all in a sad state of
dirt and wet, for the rain had begun to fall quite steadily.
Shortly after, we reached the half-way house and changed horses. We
now rattled along at a pretty good pace. But every now and then the
driver would shout, "Look out inside!" and there would be a sudden
roll, followed by a jerk and pitch combined, and you would be thrown
over upon your opposite neighbour, or he upon you. At last, after a
rather uncomfortable journey, we reached the outskirts of a large
town, and in a few minutes more we found ourselves safely jolted into
Ballarat.
I am not at all up in the statistics of the colony, and cannot tell
the population or the number of inhabited houses in Ballarat.[13] But
it is an immense place, second in importance in the colony only to
Melbourne. Big though it be, like most of these up-country towns,
Ballarat originated in a rush. It was only in September, 1851, that a
blacksmith at Buningong, named Hiscocks, who had long been searching
for gold, traced a mountain-torrent back into the hills towards the
north, and came upon the rich lode which soon became known as the
"Ballarat Diggings." When the rumour of the discovery got abroad,
there was a great rush of people to the place, accompanied by the
usual disorders; but they gradually settled down, and Ballarat was
founded. The whole soil of the place was found to contain more or less
gold. It was gathered in the ranges, on the flats, in the
water-courses, and especially in the small veins of blue clay, lying
almost above the so-called "pipeclay." The gold was to all appearance
quite pure, and was found in rolled or water-course irregular lumps of
various sizes, from a quarter or half an ounce in weight, sometimes
incorporated with round pebbles of quartz, which appeared to have
formed the original matrix.
The digging was at first for the most part alluvial, but when skilled
miners arrived from England, operations were begun on a much larger
scale, until now it is conducted upon a regular system, by means of
costly machinery and highly-organised labour. To give an idea of the
extensive character of the operations, I may mention that one company,
the Band of Hope, has erected machinery of the value of 70,000_l._ The
main shaft, from which the various workings branch out, is 420 feet
deep; and 350 men are employed in and about the mine. It may also be
mentioned that the deeper the workings have gone, the richer has been
the yield of gold. This one company has, in a comparatively short
time, raised gold worth over half a million sterling; the quantity
produced by the Ballarat mines, since the discovery of gold in
September, 1851, to the end of 1866, having been worth about one
hundred and thirty millions sterling.
The morning after my arrival in Ballarat I proceeded to survey the
town, I was certainly surprised at the fine streets, the large
buildings, and the number of people walking along the broad pathways.
Perhaps my surprise was magnified by the circumstance that nearly
fifteen months had passed since I had been in a large town; and, after
Majorca, Ballarat seemed to me like a capital. After wandering about
the streets for half an hour, I looked into the Court-house, where an
uninteresting case of drunkenness was being heard. I next went into
the adjoining large building, which I found to be the Public Library.
The commodious reading-room was amply supplied with books, magazines,
and newspapers; and here I amused myself for an hour in reading a new
book. Over the mantel-piece of the large room hangs an oil painting of
Prince Alfred, representing him and his "mates" after the visit they
had made to one of the Ballarat mines. This provision of excellent
reading-rooms--free and open to all--seems to me an admirable feature
of the Victorian towns. They are the best sort of supplement to the
common day-schools; and furnish a salutary refuge for all sober-minded
men, from the temptations of the grog-shops. But besides the Public
Library, there is also the Mechanics' Institute, in Sturt Street; a
fine building, provided also with a large library, and all the latest
English newspapers, free to strangers.
The features of the town that most struck me in the course of the day
were these. First, Sturt Street: a fine, broad street, at least three
chains wide. On each side are large handsome shops, and along the
middle of the road runs a broad strip of garden, with large trees and
well-kept beds of flowers. Sturt Street is on an incline; and at the
top of it runs Ledyard Street, at right angles, also a fine broad
street. It contains the principal banks, of which I counted nine, all
handsome stone buildings, the London Chartered, built on a foundation
of blue-stone, being perhaps the finest of them in an architectural
point of view. Close to it is the famous "Corner." What the Bourse is
in Paris, Wall Street in New York, and the Exchange in London--that is
the "Corner" at Ballarat. Under the verandah of the Unicorn Hotel, and
close to the Exchange Buildings, there is a continual swarm of
speculators, managers of companies, and mining men, standing about in
groups, very like so many circles of betting-men on a race-course.
Here all the mining swindles originate. Specimens of gold-bearing
quartz are shown, shares are bought and sold, new schemes are
ventilated, and old ones revived. Many fortunes have been lost and won
on that bit of pavement.
One man is reckoned as good as another in Ballarat. Even the cad of a
baker's boy has the chance of making "a pile," while the swell broker,
who dabbles in mines and reefs, may be beggared in a few days. As one
of the many instances of men growing suddenly rich by speculation
here, I may mention the following. A short time since, a cobbler at
Ballarat had a present made to him of twenty scrip in a company that
was looking so bad that the shares had become unsaleable. The cobbler
knew nothing of the mine, but he held the scrip. Not only so, but he
bought more at a shilling or two apiece, and he went on accumulating
them, until at the end of the year he had scraped together some two or
three hundred. At length he heard that gold had been struck. He went
to a bank, deposited his scrip certificates, and raised upon them all
the money he could borrow. He bought more shares. They trebled in
value. He held on. They trebled again. At last, when the gold was
being got almost by the bucket, and a great mania for the shares had
set in, the cobbler sold out at 250_l._ a share, and found himself a
rich man. The mine was, I think, the Sir William Don, one of the most
successful in Ballarat, now yielding a dividend of about 2_l._ per
share per month, or a return of about 500 per cent. on the paid-up
capital.
But to return to my description of Ballarat. The town lies in a valley
between two slopes, spreading up on both sides and over the summits.
Each summit is surmounted by a lofty tower, built by the Eastern and
Western Fire Brigades. These towers command a view of the whole place,
and are continually occupied by watchmen, who immediately give the
alarm on the outbreak of fire. The people here say that the Ballarat
Fire Brigade is the smartest in the southern hemisphere; though the
engines are all manned by volunteers. And a fire must be a serious
matter in Ballarat, where so many of the buildings--stores as well as
dwellings--are built entirely of wood. Many of the streets are even
paved with wood.
In the afternoon I ascended the western hill, from which I obtained a
fine bird's-eye view of the town. The large, broad streets, at right
angles to each other, looked well laid out, neat, and clean looking.
What seemed strangest of all was the lazy puffing of the engines over
the claims, throwing out their white jets of steam. But for the width
of the streets, and the cleanness of the place, one might almost have
taken Ballarat for a manufacturing town in Yorkshire, though they have
no flower gardens along the middle of their streets!
In the evening I went to the opera--for Ballarat has an opera! The
piece was 'Faust,' and was performed by Lyster and Smith's company
from Melbourne. The performers did their best, but I cannot say they
are very strong in opera yet at the Antipodes.
After thoroughly doing Ballarat, I set out on my return to Majorca.
There was the same jolting as before, but this time the coach did not
stick in the mud. On reaching Clunes, I resolved to walk straight to
Majorca across the plain, instead of going the roundabout way by the
road. But the straightest route is not always the shortest, as my
experience on this occasion proved. I had scarcely got fairly into the
plain before I found myself in the midst of a succession of
crab-holes. These are irregular depressions, about a yard or so apart,
formed by the washing up of the soil by eddies during floods, and now
the holes were all full of water. It was a difficult and tedious
process to work one's way through amongst them, for they seemed to
dovetail into one another, and often I had to make a considerable
detour to get round the worst of them. This crab-holey ground
continued for about four miles, after which I struck into the bush,
making for the ranges, and keeping Mount Greenock and Mount Glasgow
before me as landmarks. Not being a good bushman, I suspect I went
several miles out of my way. However, by dint of steady walking, I
contrived to do the sixteen miles in about four hours; but if I have
ever occasion to walk from Clunes again, I will take care to take the
roundabout road, and not to make the journey _en zigzag_ round
crab-holes and through the bush.
Among the other places about here that I have visited were Talbot,
about seven miles distant, and Avoca, about twenty. One of the
occasions of my going to Talbot was to attend a ball given there, and
another to attend a great fete for the benefit of the Amherst
Hospital. Talbot gives its name to the county, though by no means the
largest town in it. The town is very neat and tidy, and contains some
good stone and brick buildings. It consists of one principal street,
with several little offshoots.
The ball was very like a ball at home, though a little more mixed. The
young ladies were some of them very pretty, and nicely dressed--some
in dresses "direct from London"--while a few of the elder ladies were
gorgeous but incongruous. One old lady, in a juvenile dress, wore an
enormous gold brooch, large enough to contain the portraits of several
families. I was astonished to learn the great distances that some of
the ladies and gentlemen had come to be present at the ball. Some had
driven through the bush twenty and even thirty miles; but distance is
thought nothing of here, especially when there is a chance of "meeting
company." The ball was given in the Odd Fellows' Hall, a large square
room. One end of it was partitioned off as a supper-room, and on the
partition was sewn up in large letters this couplet from 'Childe
Harold:'--
"No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet,
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."
And, to speak the truth, the young ladies, as well as the young
gentlemen present, did ample justice to the text. The dancing
continued until daybreak, and we drove back to Majorca as the sun was
rising; but remember it was summer time, in November, when the sun
rises very early.
One little event arose out of this ball which may serve to illustrate
the comparative freeness of up-country manners. A nice young lady,
with whom I danced, asked me if I would not like to be very great
friends with her. "Oh, yes! certainly." And great friends we became at
once. Perhaps she took pity on the stranger boy so far from home. She
asked if I was fond of riding. "Very fond." "Then I will come over to
Majorca, and call upon you, and we shall have a ride in the bush
together." And I was to be sure and have some sweets ready for her, as
she was very fond of them. I took this to be merely a little ball-room
chaff; but judge my surprise when, next afternoon, the young lady rode
up to the bank door and called on me to fulfil my promise,--which I
did, lollipops and all.
A great event in Talbot is the Annual Fete, held on the Prince of
Wales's birthday, which is observed as a public holiday in Victoria.
The fete this year was held in aid of the funds of the Amherst
Hospital, a valuable local institution. At this affair the whole
population of the neighbourhood turned out. It began at midday with a
grand procession through the town. Let me endeavour to give you an
idea of the pageant. First came the well-mounted Clunes Lancers, in
their light blue and white uniforms, 150 strong, blue and white
pennons fluttering from their long lances. Then came lines of members
of Friendly Societies, in gay scarfs, accompanied by banners. Then a
good band of music. The Talbot 42nd Sectional Lancers next turn the
corner of the street, gorgeous in scarlet and white. Then comes
something comic--a Welsh lady and gentleman riding a pony barebacked.
These are followed by an Irish couple, also mounted. Then comes a
Highlandman, in a vehicle such as the Highlands never saw, discoursing
music from his bagpipes. A large open boat follows, mounted on a car;
it is filled with sailor-boys in blue and white. This boat is a model
of the 'Cerberus,' the turret-ship that Mr. Reed is building in
England for the defence of Port Phillip. A genuine old salt, with long
white hair, plays the part of admiral. In cocked hat, blue admiral's
coat, and white ducks, he waves his sword frantically, and gives the
word of command to repel boarders; all the while two little cannons in
the model are being constantly fired, reloaded, and fired again. This
noisy exhibition having passed, a trophy representing the Australian
chase appears. A huntsman, dressed in green, blowing his horn, stands
amidst some bushes, holding a handsome leash of hounds; dead kangaroos
and other Australian animals lie around him. Then follow more lancers.
After this comes a huge car, two stories high, with all sorts of odd
characters in it: a clown, with his "Here we are again!" playing
pranks on two sedate-looking Chinamen; a little fairy boy or girl,
flirting with a magician; dragons snapping; strange birds screeching;
three bears, one playing a violin, but the tune it plays is drowned by
the hubbub of noise and bands. A lady, of the time of Elizabeth,
gorgeous in ruffles, follows on horseback. Then knights in armour, one
of them with a stuffed 'possum snarling on the top of his helmet.
Another band. Then the solemn brethren of the Order of Druids, in
white gowns, bald heads, and grey beards. A company of sweeps comes
next, attended by an active Jack-in-the-Green. Now an Indian doctor
appears, smoking a long pipe in his chariot, drawn by a Brahmin bull.
Another band, and then the rear is brought up by more cavalry. There
were seven bands--good ones, too--in the procession, which took full
twenty minutes to pass the hotel, on the balcony of which I stood. I
have seen the London Lord Mayor's Show, but must confess the Talbot
procession beats it hollow.
After the procession, we all adjourned to the race-course, where the
collection for the hospital was to be made. The admission was
eighteen-pence; a good sum for working people to give, yet everybody
was there. There was an amateur Richardson's show, a magician's tent,
Cheap John's merry-go-rounds, and all sorts of amusements to be had by
paying for them; and, above all, there was the bazaar, presided over
by the ladies of Talbot, who succeeded in selling a large quantity of
useless things at the usual exorbitant prices. There was also a large
dancing-platform roofed with canvas, which was very well frequented.
Most popular of all, perhaps, were the refreshment-bars, where the
publicans gave the liquor free, but charged the usual prices for the
good of the hospital fund; and the teetotallers, not to be outdone,
managed a very comfortable tea-room. In short, all the usual
expedients for raising money were cleverly resorted to, and the result
was that between 1400_l._ and 1500_l._ was added to the funds of the
hospital, about 500_l._ of which was taken at the ladies' bazaar.
Altogether, there were not less than 5000 people on the ground, though
I believe the newspapers gave a considerably higher number.
The Avoca races were not very different from races in England. Every
town hereabouts has its races, even Majorca. The Carrisbrook
race-course, about four miles from our town, is considered second to
none in the colony. Avoca, however, is a bigger place, and the races
there draw a much larger crowd. We drove the twenty miles thither by
road and bush-track. The ground was perfectly dry, for there had been
no rain for some time; and, as the wind was in our faces, it drove the
clouds of dust behind us. I found the town itself large and
well-built. What particularly struck me was the enormous width of the
main street,--at least three chains wide. The houses on either side of
the road were so remote from each other that they might have belonged
to different townships. I was told that the reason of this great width
of street was, that the Government had reserved this broad space of
ground, the main street of Avoca forming part of the road to Adelaide,
which may at some future time become a great and crowded highway. One
of the finest buildings in the town is a handsome hotel, built of
stone and brick, provided with a ball-room, billiard-rooms, and such
like. It is altogether the finest up-country place of the kind that I
have seen. Here we put up, and join the crowd of loungers under the
verandah. Young swells got up in high summer costume--cutaway coats,
white hats, and blue net veils--just as at Epsom on the Derby Day.
There are also others, heavy-looking colonials, who have come out
evidently to make a day of it, and are already freely imbibing cold
brandy and water. Traps and cars are passing up and down the street,
in quest of passengers for the race-course, about two miles from the
town.
There we find the same sort of entertainments provided for the public
as on like occasions at home. The course is about a mile and a half in
extent, with the ground well cleared. There is the saddling paddock,
in which the "knowing ones" take great interest; and there are the
usual booths for the sale of refreshments, and especially of drink. In
front of the Grand Stand the betting-men from Melbourne are pointed
out to me,--a sharp, rough-looking set they are, dressed in Tweed
suits and flash ties, wearing diamond rings. One of them, a
blear-eyed, tall, strong man, with bushy brown whiskers, bawling out
his "two to one" on such and such a horse--an ugly-looking
customer--was described to me as "the _second_ biggest blackguard in
Victoria; give him a wide berth." Another of the betting-men was
pointed out to me as having been a guard on the South-Eastern Railway
some ten years ago. I need not describe the races: they were like most
others. There were flat races and hurdle races. Six horses ran for the
District Plate. Four of them came in to the winning-post, running neck
and neck. The race was won by only a head.
My friend remained on the course until it was too late to return to
Majorca that night. As the moon did not rise until towards morning, we
were under the necessity of waiting until then, otherwise we might get
benighted in the bush. We tried to find a bed in the hotel, but in
vain. All the beds and sofas in Avoca were occupied. Even the billiard
tables were engaged for the night.
We set out on our return journey to Majorca just as the moon was
rising. She was only in her second quarter, and did not yet give light
enough to enable us to see the road very clearly, so that we went very
cautiously at first. While my companion drove, I snatched the
opportunity for a sleep. I nodded and dozed from time to time,
wakening up suddenly to find a large bright star blinking before my
eyes. The star sank lower and lower towards the horizon. The
green-gold rays of the morning sun rose up to meet it. The star
hovered between the pale growing light below and the dark blue sky
above. Then it melted away in the glow of sunrise. The half-moon still
cast our shadow on the dusty track. But not for long. The zone of
yellow light in the east grows rapidly larger and brighter. The
brilliant edge of the god of day tips the horizon; a burst of light
follows; and now the morning sun, day's harbinger, "comes dancing up
the east." The summits of the trees far away in the silent bush are
bathed in gold. The near trees, that looked so weird-like in the
moon's half light, are now decked in green. The chill of the night has
departed. It is already broad day. By the time we reach Amherst, eight
miles from Majorca, we are glad to shade ourselves from the blazing
sun. In an hour more we reach our destination, and after breakfast and
a bath, are ready to begin the day's duties.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 13: The population, in 1857, was 4971; in 1861, 21,104. It
is now nearly 50,000.]