river Derwent to New Norfolk. The steamer takes about three hours.
About halfway the river is crossed by the main line railway at
Bridgewater, and up to this point is of a considerable width. On the
North the river skirts the wooded sides of Mount Direction, on the
South Mount Wellington almost fills up the landscape. After passing
Bridgewater the river much narrows, and further on the woods descend
to the water's edge in some places, reminding the traveller of the
Dart between Dartmouth and Totnes. Just before reaching New Norfolk
a huge rock, called from its shape the Pulpit Rock, quite overhangs
the river. A branch line from Bridgewater to New Norfolk was being
made along the North side, close to the water's edge, and now the
Pulpit Rock has been removed, for though a picturesque object it
looked dangerous, and everything must, of course, give way to
railways. On landing at the wharf at New Norfolk, a boy came forward
and offered to drive me to the well-known salmon ponds, where, for a
good many years, attempts have been made to rear salmon from ova
brought from England, but it is doubtful whether they have met with
success. Small fish have certainly been raised, but the question is
whether they are salmon, and it is said none have attained a size
sufficiently large to solve the enigma. The distance is only a few
miles, and the drive is pretty, but ten shillings was too much for
the pleasure of a solitary journey, for there was no one else likely
to be a passenger in the winter time. New Norfolk lies pleasantly
situated in a valley on the South side of the Derwent. The soil is
favourable for hops, which have been introduced from England, and
grow well here. I have been told that the freight of hops from
Tasmania to England is less than the carriage from some parts of
Kent to London; but as the carriage, say from Maidstone to London,
is about one and sixpence per pocket, they could be carried at such
a rate from Tasmania only as a back freight, and when the owner
wants anything to fill up. For the night I put up at the "Bush," the
favourite and principal inn, but now I was the only guest. After
dark I started out to see the little township, but as the moon was
only in its first quarter, and there was no artificial light, not
much could be made out then. Launceston and Hobart are the only
towns that have gas, and while the moon is shining, or is due to
shine, even that is not lighted--a piece of economy that may be
excused where gas is about ten shillings per thousand. The next day
I returned by land to Hobart, travelling to Bridgewater by a
top-heavy coach, which at every turn sent my heart into my mouth,
but it was skilfully driven.
Tasmania cannot be said to have progressed much of late years, yet
it does make progress, and is not now receding as it was when Sir C.
Dilke visited it about 20 years ago. I do not know that any land is
now allowed to go out of cultivation as was then the case. It has
not been entirely its own fault either. The protective duties of
Victoria have much checked the exportation of fruit and jam. The
question of Protection _versus_ Free Trade is a permanent subject of
controversy in the Colonies. At the present moment the Premier of
Victoria is a Free Trader, while the Chief Secretary is an ardent
Protectionist. If this difference of opinion exists in the most
advanced and populous colony, what certainty of policy can be looked
for in the others? The best solution would probably be an
intercolonial Zollverein, towards which events seem to be tending.
Whether eventually it will include Great Britain is a part of the
wider question of Federation. That Tasmania is a country with many
resources--especially mineral wealth--as yet undeveloped, is a
conclusion at which most people will arrive, even after a short
visit to the colony; but, how soon and in what way this development
will take place depends, of course, upon the character of the
inhabitants, and this character will, no doubt, improve as the
remembrances of the convict life, which has so blighted this
beautiful island, gradually recede into the dim distance of the
past.
VI.
Auckland and Sydney.
I do not know that I have any right to say anything about New
Zealand, seeing that I was only three days upon the North
Island. I had indeed intended to have paid a proper visit. I had
intended seeing the famous pink and white terraces (now alas!
destroyed), and the rest of the lake district; and at various
places I had a good many introductions from friends. But the
force of circumstances--sometimes said to be another name for
weakness of will--intervened, and my fine schemes ended
ingloriously in a flying visit to Auckland, on a business
matter.
I have before alluded to the excellent steamers of the Union S.S.
Co., of New Zealand. This Company appears to have a monopoly of the
trade between Australia and New Zealand, and if their steamers
continue as they now are there is not much reason to fear
competition. They start from Melbourne, call at Hobart, run across
to the South of the island of New Zealand, then, calling at the
principal ports along the whole length of the east coast of the two
islands till they reach Auckland, they steam straight across to
Sydney. The same journey is made back again from Sydney to
Melbourne. The route is sometimes varied, but this is the usual
course. The names of their steamers are from lakes in New Zealand,
Tarawera, Wairarapa, Te Anau, &c., while the steamers of the New
Zealand Shipping Co. are named from mountains, as Tongariro,
Aorangi, Rimutaka, &c. On the day that I had arranged to leave
Hobart by the Union line for New Zealand, it happened that one of
the New Zealand Co.'s steamers called in for coal, and as this
steamer--a fine vessel of 4,000 tons--was going direct to Auckland
it suited me much better. She had come round the Cape, thus avoiding
the heat of the Suez Canal. This is a monthly service direct to New
Zealand. The Shaw Savill and Albion Line also has a monthly service,
so that every fortnight there is a steamer direct from England
arriving in New Zealand. The sea was smooth, and consequently the
passage was quick. On the morning of the third day we passed the
Snares Rocks, to the south of Stewart's Island. On the fifth, the
snowy sides of the Kaikoura mountains were glittering in the morning
sun as we passed a few miles from shore, and about 4 o'clock on the
morning of the eighth day, we were alongside the wharf in the
spacious harbour of Auckland. Close by, my eye was caught by the
"Ohau," a small steamer, which, as it happened, I had seen launched
about nine months previously at Dumbarton--little expecting to see
it again.
It is doubtful whether New Zealand belongs geographically to
Australia or to the Pacific Islands. It is said that some shocks of
earthquake in New Zealand have been felt in Tasmania. On the other
hand there is above a thousand miles of rough sea between Australia
and New Zealand, with no connecting islands between, and nature
presents quite a different aspect in the two countries. The gum tree
is the principal tree on the Australian continent, the Kauri pine in
New Zealand. In the latter country there are no kangaroos, no emus,
no snakes, in fact very few indigenous animals. The bones of a
gigantic bird, the moa, are to be found, but the bird itself has
long been extinct. Every variety of climate and scenery may be found
in New Zealand. The winter of the South Island is as rigorous as
that of England, while the North Island nearly reaches the tropics.
In the North Island are the famous hot lakes; in the South the very
lofty range of mountains known as the Southern Alps, which attains a
height of 13,000 feet in Mount Cook. The scenery on the South-west
coast, from Milford Sound downwards, where the sea runs up many
miles into the land, and the steamer passes through narrow straits
between perpendicular walls of rock, has often been compared to that
of the wilder fiords of Norway. It is little more than forty years
since New Zealand was colonized by Europeans, but already shoals of
books have been written about it. The Maoris, as is well known, are
not the original inhabitants. Their traditions relate--and they are
confirmed by independent investigations--that they came about 400
years ago from the South Sea Islands, and drove out or exterminated
the natives. As a fact the Maoris are immeasurably superior to the
Australian natives. Captain Cook, in describing his landing in 1769,
says, "one of the natives raised his spear, as if to dart it at the
boat; the coxswain fired, and shot him dead,"--a melancholy omen of
the future relations between the natives and the strangers. The
Maori wars have cost us many lives, but, of course, have always had
the same ending. The natives have gradually been straitened in room,
and their numbers have steadily declined. It is true that the census
of 1881 shows a rather larger number of natives (44,000 odd) than in
1858, but in the latter year it was probably not so accurately made,
and there is little doubt that they are now rapidly diminishing.
They are nearly all in the North Island, in the neighbourhood of the
Hot Lake district. The portion specially alloted to them is called
the King Country, and no European may enter this without permission.
Thus they have prevented the ascent of Mount Tongariro, which is
_tapu_, or sacred. They are now much better treated than formerly,
and send four members to Parliament. In their language there is no
_s_ or _f_, vowels are very numerous, and every word ends with a
vowel. The sound of the words, therefore, is easy and flowing, and
the native names are far more euphonious than those of Australia.
There is already a good deal of literature about the Maoris, their
habits and customs and religious ideas. No doubt they are of the
widely-spread Malay race, which has over-run the South Pacific. The
religious notions of the most different races in a certain stage of
civilization much resemble one another. We know, for instance, that
the Greeks of Homer's time (whatever that was) besides worshipping
the gods of Olympus, identified every ruin, mountain, or cape with
some superhuman person--whether demon, or hero, or nymph. So we read
(in Wakefield's adventures in New Zealand) that the chief Heu-Heu
appeals to his ancestor the great mountain Tongariro, "I am the
Heu-Heu, and rule over you all just as my ancestor, Tongariro, the
mountain of Snow, stands above all this land." Heu-Heu refused
permission to anyone to ascend the mountain, on the ground that it
was his _tipuna_ or ancestor,--"he constantly identified himself
with the mountain, and called it his sacred ancestor." The mountains
in New Zealand are accounted by the natives male and female.
Tarawera and Taranaki, two male mountains, once quarrelled about the
affections of a small volcanic female mountain in the neighbourhood.
A great deal about the transactions between the New Zealand
Government and the natives may be learnt from the recent interesting
libel action of _Bryce_ v. _Rusden_, in which the former, who has
been native minister in the Government, recovered L5000 damages
against the defendant, the author of a History of New Zealand. Up to
1876 the islands were divided into nine provinces, each of which had
a separate Council, subject to the central Government at Wellington,
but in that year the provincial Councils were abolished, and the
Government is now like that of the Australian Colonies, with a
governor and two houses of Parliament. The members of the Lower
House are paid. In "Greater Britain," Sir Charles Dilke, making a
contrast between New Zealand and Australia, suggests that New
Zealand is aristocratic and Australia democratic. To me they
appeared equally democratic. The payment of members is an advanced
step even in a democracy.
Auckland is by far the largest town in the North Island, with its
suburbs, now containing nearly 50,000 inhabitants. Up to 1864 it was
also the seat of Government, but that was then moved to Wellington
as being a more central town. There is much rivalry between Auckland
and Dunedin, the largest town in the South Island. Dunedin is the
capital of the pro-provincial district of Otago, which is chiefly
inhabited by Scotch, or people of Scotch descent. The Scotch have
the great merit of sticking to their friends. If there is anything
to be done or gained, a Scotchman naturally gets the preference. I
heard an amusing illustration of this on the way to New Zealand. At
one of the ports in Otago a steamer required new boilers, and
tenders were asked for. One was much lower than the others, and was
accepted. The name of the contractor appeared to be Macpherson, but
when sent for he turned out to be a Chinaman. He had been shrewd
enough to see that he had no chance of getting the work in his own
name. The total population of New Zealand is a little over 500,000,
and the public debt is about L37,000,000. This seems to show that
taxation must be high. A good deal of this large amount has, it is
true, been expended on railways, which all belong to the State, and
therefore the burden, though heavy, is not quite so heavy as it
appears at first sight. A friend at Auckland told me that New
Zealand is a paradise for working-men and for men with capital, who
can safely lend it at a high rate of interest. It is probably, too,
a capital place for domestic servants, who everywhere in the
Colonies seem to have pretty much their own way. I have also heard
that dentists are much in request. A lady, living near Auckland, had
to drive twelve miles, and then put her name down in a book three
weeks beforehand, to see the dentist! But for people who want to
find something to do, and have no money and no manual skill, the
prospect is not so smiling. For instance, I should not imagine that
teaching is a lucrative pursuit--private teaching that is to say,
for in public teaching the supply is in excess of the demand, and,
no doubt, rightly so, in a young community. New Zealand annually
spends on education L500,000, or L1 per head of the population, a
higher proportion than is spent by any other country. Formerly there
was the University of Otago and the University of New Zealand, but
the former has now ceased to have the power of conferring degrees,
and has been virtually amalgamated with the University of New
Zealand. This University has affiliated colleges at Auckland,
Wellington, Christchurch, and Dunedin, though the latter is still
styled the University of Otago. Each of these colleges has a staff
of highly-paid professors, with not much to do as yet in the strict
line of business, to judge by the number of students. But of course
the taste for advanced education has to be created before it can be
much in request. The salaries are large enough to tempt over some of
the best men from England, but a professor is expected to come out
as a public man much more here than at home. He is expected to
deliver a course of lectures in public, to entertain socially, and
to interest himself in local affairs. At Auckland they boasted that
on their School Board they had a Senior Classic and a Senior
Wrangler.
Auckland is, as I said, the only town I actually visited in New
Zealand. Of the town itself there is not much to be said. It is not
particularly interesting, and the climate is rather relaxing; when
it rains the roads are almost impassable with mud. But its situation
is most charming from its beauty, and most advantageous for trade.
The harbour of Auckland is thought by some to rival that of Sydney
for beauty and commodiousness. From the summit of Mount Eden, an
extinct volcano, with a perfectly formed crater (its extinction,
however, does not appear so certain, after the recent experience of
Mount Tarawera, which was thought to be equally extinct), an
extensive view of Auckland and the two seas is to be obtained. For
at this point the North Island is so narrow, that Manukau harbour on
the west side comes close up to Auckland, and at one point the
distance across is only a mile and a half. There has been a project
mooted to cut through the narrow isthmus, and thus lessen the
journey to Sydney by about 300 miles, but all the harbours of New
Zealand lie towards the Pacific, not towards Australia, and there is
a formidable bar at the entrance to Manukau harbour, so that after
all the expense would probably be too great. Auckland is on the
direct track for steamers from San Francisco to Sydney, and up to
last year there was a regular service of three steamers, once a
month--I forget the name of the line. Many went by this route, as
the fare from Sydney to London this way is only L66, including the
rail across America, but there were many complaints of the
inferiority of the steamers. That line has now ceased, but the Union
Line of New Zealand now run their steamers along the same route,
and, I believe, have a subsidy from New Zealand and New South Wales
for the mail service to America. It was by one of the steamers of
the former line, the "Zealandia," that I left Auckland for Sydney on
the 28th June. The voyage took five days over a calm sea, and was
quite without incident. We were, however, enlivened by the presence
of Mr. Dion Boucicault, the well-known playwright and actor, with
his company, who were on their way to fulfil engagements in
Melbourne and Sydney, after some years stay in America; we had many
amusing, but highly-coloured anecdotes. Among them one alone, told
by an actor who died sadly and suddenly at Melbourne a few weeks
later, now remains in my memory. Some time previously he had been
acting at Ottawa, and the play was Richard III. He was Richmond, and
in reply to his speech the Duke of Norfolk says, "Your words are
fire, my lord, and warm our men." On this occasion the army
consisted of one man, one woman (dressed as a soldier) and a boy,
and the very conscientious duke replied, "Your words are fire, my
lord, and warm our _man_." I tell it as it was told me, but my
friend must have made some mistake. These words do not occur in
Shakespeare's Richard III. (though they may in the acting version)
and at any rate there is no conversation between Richmond and the
Duke of Norfolk.
On arrival at Sydney I made no stay, but returned to Melbourne the
next day by steamer. However, I paid my visit of five weeks to
Sydney a short time afterwards. This time I left Melbourne by the
very fine steamer Buninyong, of 3000 tons, belonging to Howard,
Smith & Co., I believe the largest of the Inter-Colonial Steamers.
After passing Wilson's Promontory, the extreme South point of
Victoria, and indeed of Australia, the coast is in sight the whole
way. After about 54 hours we entered Sydney Heads. It was then
twilight, and quite dark before we came alongside the wharf. The
entrance to the Heads at Sydney is about a mile wide, but is
scarcely seen before it is entered. The Cliffs on each side are
several hundred feet high. The projecting points of the Cliff on the
North side, when seen at a certain angle, made a good imitation of
the Duke of Wellington's profile. A fast steamer from Melbourne
takes about 48 hours, but then fast steamers are sometimes
dangerous; most people have read of the terrible wrecks of the
Cahors and the Lyeemoon, within a few months of each other, the two
fastest steamers of the Australian Steam Navigation Co.; the latter
wreck caused the loss of 70 lives. Both were the result of steering
too close inland, to save an hour or two. To suspend or cancel a
captain's certificate, or even to prosecute him, is a small
consolation for such things as these. Moreover, when there is time
to use the boats, they are too often found to be unseaworthy. The
steamers themselves are inspected by the Marine Board, and
certificates granted for 6 months, but the boats, though included in
the certificate, are not separately examined. Being exposed to the
hot sun day after day, they become very dry, and consequently leak
when wanted for use. If the captain was bound to keep the boats
seaworthy as distinct from the ship, he would be more careful to
have them tested now and then. Mr. Wm. Smith, of Sydney, has
recently invented a life-boat, which, it has been proved, cannot be
upset. He has offered it freely to the Government, but owing to
differences with some officials of the Marine Board, it has never
received a fair trial at their hands. The recent loss of life at
sea will not have been entirely useless, if it directs public
attention to his most valuable invention. The harbour of Sydney has
been often described, and I will not attempt to do so, especially as
all descriptions of scenery are unsatisfactory. They seldom convey
any definite impression, and a good photograph is better than any
number of them. However, it disputes with that of Rio Janeiro, the
name of the "finest harbour in the world"--whatever that may mean
exactly. In shape it somewhat resembles a huge octopus, the
innumerable creeks and inlets branching out like so many feelers,
yet there can scarcely be said to be a centre from which they
radiate. Numberless steamers ply all day to various points, mostly
starting from the "Circular Quay," the principal wharf of the city.
Small steamers rush in everywhere up the smallest rivers, and have
to be of the lightest draught. In the summer many of the rivers are
dry. The captain of one, not to be outbid by his rival, advertised
to start "the next heavy dew."
I spent many of my days in Sydney in exploring the harbour, by the
aid of steamers, but to see it adequately would require many weeks.
Watson's Bay is near the South Head. Close by is the "Gap," where
the City of Dunbar was wrecked on the 20th August, 1857. The
anniversary of the day is kept. The Captain, steering straight for
the entrance as he thought, ran upon the rocks. There was only one
survivor, who was thrown upon a ledge of rock, and was not found for
two days. The ship was full of colonists returning home, and the
calamity threw nearly all Sydney into mourning. There is now a
lighthouse near at hand, with a magnificent electric light, which
can be seen thirty miles away. At Manly Beach, near the North Head,
is a fine sandy tract; it is a favourite bathing-place, and round
about are many pretty villas. A young clergyman, recently come from
England as _locum tenens_ to an absent vicar, was then at Manly
Beach with his wife. I had known him in England, so we made up a
picnic to drive northward from Manly about 15 miles, to a place
called Pitwater. A charming drive it was. Now and then glimpses of
the sea on the right hand were seen. For several miles the road was
bordered with the lovely wild flowers which grow in profusion near
Sydney, so much so that in September the ladies of Manly get up a
wild-flower show. The varieties of the wattle are especially
beautiful. Pitwater consisted of one house, to which the road had
been made but a few months previously. It was at the edge of an
inlet from the sea, which here comes in some distance, but it looked
like an inland lake, so still and solemn were the surroundings. My
friend had the reputation of being one of the best, if not the best,
preachers in Sydney. He occupied one of the largest churches and
kept it full. His matter was excellent, but his reputation he owed
chiefly to his admirable elocution, in which art he had taken
lessons in London. If only more clergymen would have the sense to do
the same! It is very well to say that, as religion is so
all-important a subject, any sermon should compel attention. Perhaps
that should be so, but men are mortal, and sermons are not listened
to any more than any other utterances if they are tedious and badly
delivered.