Once more I found myself without a home, without an occupation, and
without any plans for the future--with a spirit undecided--depending on
some slight circumstance as to what course I should next take.
Such a position is ever unpleasant. I knew this, from the fact of
having been too often placed in it; and being well accustomed to the
disagreeable reflections attending it.
I was anxious to decide, upon something to do. What should it be? What
part of the world should I next visit? Why had I come back to Melbourne
at all? Was it to make more money; or spend what I had already made?
These, and a thousand other interrogatories succeeded each other in my
mind; but to none of them could I give an intelligent answer.
While in this state of indecision, I came near losing a portion of my
self-respect. There was a good deal to seduce me into habits of
dissipation; and not much to restrain me from them. I had no longer the
motives, to guard me against evil courses, that had once guided me.
What could I gain, by always keeping on my best behaviour? Ever since
first leaving home, I had endeavoured to conduct myself, as well as my
limited knowledge would allow. What had I gained by it? Nothing,
except, perhaps, a little vanity. Was this worth all the exertion I had
made by resisting temptation?
Having little else to do, I spent some time in considering the question.
The result was: satisfaction at the course I had pursued, and a
determination to continue it.
A little vanity is, perhaps, after all, not such a bad thing. If a man
cannot win the good opinion of others, he should endeavour to keep on
proper terms with himself; and this he cannot do, without conducting
himself in a proper manner. Because Fortune had not dealt with me, as I
had wished, that was no reason why I should take her for an example, and
imitate her unkindness. A man in adversity is too often deserted by his
acquaintances; but this is no argument for turning against himself and
becoming his own enemy. I determined not to act in a manner so stupid.
I had too much self-respect, or pride, or vanity, to do so. Call it by
what name you please, it served me at that time in good stead: for it
was this, and nothing else, that restrained me from entering upon a
course of dissipation.
My companions Vane and Cannon were good examples of men, who act without
any fixed principles or firm resolve. They had both been, in the old
country, what is called a "little wild," and had come to the colonies
not from any inclination on their own part, but rather at the instance
of their relatives and friends. They had been _sent_ out, in fact--in
the hope of their getting _tamed_ by the hardships of colonial life.
I have known thousands of genteel young men similarly expatriated; and
who, armed with letters of introduction and recommendation, had landed
in the colonies, under the belief that they were very much wanted there.
Never was there a greater delusion--as most of them had afterwards
reason to know. The only people required in Australia are those of good
habits--combined with some brains, or else a willingness to work. The
"fast youths" packed off to get them out of the way, are generally
deficient in these essential requisites--otherwise they might have found
employment at home.
Unwilling to work, they arrive in the colonies with too good an opinion
of themselves and too low an opinion of the people there. Although
leaving England under the belief that there may be greater people left
behind, they feel confident that they will stand foremost in Australia.
Some of these young gentlemen have the sense soon to discover their
mistake; and many of them turn to hard work, with a will that does them
credit. My companions Cannon and Vane were not of this kidney. Neither
would consent to do anything, that savoured of "toil;" and with all
their letters of introduction--backed by the influence of the friends to
whom they had come introduced--they were unable to procure what they had
been led to expect--easy situations under "government."
According to their showing, there was something wrong in the system; and
the fault was with the colonial government and people. They could not
understand that those who are called upon to govern a young colony--and
put together the machinery of its social state--require to know
something: and that they who, in their native land, have proved
incapable of performing any useful duty, will be found still more
useless, in a land where the highest capability is required.
Both had been unfortunate in having friends, who, while apparently
behaving too well to them, had in reality been treating them in a cruel
manner. They had been brought up in idleness--with the idea that labour
is vulgar, and disgraceful to a gentleman. With these views they had
been thrust forth upon a wide world--to war with life's battles, as it
were, undisciplined and unarmed. Neither had the spirit successfully to
contend against the adverse circumstances, in which they now found
themselves; and they appeared to think that the best way for combating
their misfortune was to betake themselves to a course of dissipation.
I endeavoured to persuade them, to go up to the diggings with me, and
try to make their fortune by honest and honourable labour; but both
rejected my counsel--Vane even receiving it with scorn. They would not
soil their soft hands by bringing them in contact with the dirty earth!
They had as little inclination for such menial labour, as I for many
habits in which they indulged, and which to my way of thinking were far
more menial than gold-digging.
They had been educated as gentlemen--I had not. Their ways were not my
ways; and, seeing this, I resolved to cut their acquaintance. They were
naturally not bad fellows; but they had faults, arising from a defective
education, that rendered their company undesirable--especially in a
place like Melbourne.
They were both pleasant companions; and in many respects I could have
liked them; but as they were trying to live in Melbourne on nothing a
year, I saw they would not be the right sort of associates for me.
To do them justice, they seemed to be aware of this themselves, more
especially Cannon. One day he had the honesty to confess to me, that he
was afraid he could not lead the life of a respectable gentleman any
longer.
"Why?" I asked; "can you not get work?"
"No," he answered with a sneer; "I'm not going to drive bullocks, or
dry-nurse a flock of sheep, for any man. I must live in some other
manner--whether it be considered respectable or not."
"What can you do?" I inquired.
"Haven't an idea. I only know, Stone, that I shall be `spongeing' on
you, if you don't cut my acquaintance."
"And, when you can live on your acquaintance no longer, what then?"
"Then I must turn billiard-marker. My friends have sent me here, as
they said, to make my fortune, but, as I believe, only to get rid of any
further trouble with me at home. They have succeeded in their purpose:
for I don't believe that I shall ever rise the `tin' to return to
England, although I should deucedly like to do so."
"Why should you wish to go where you are not wanted? Why not set to
work; and become independent, by your own exertions?"
"Ah! my friend, you forget that we have not been brought up alike. You
have had sensible parents, or guardians, who have done something to
prepare you for that sort of thing, while I have been brought up
foolishly by those who have tried hard to make me believe myself wiser
than other people. What seems easy to you, is altogether impossible to
me. You have been educated in a world that has taught you some wisdom,
while I have been trained by a family that has only made a fool of me.
I have been taught to believe that a man should owe everything to his
ancestors; and you, that he should be indebted only to himself.
Therefore, it's idle to talk about the matter--we can never agree."
I saw that there was no use in urging Cannon to attempt doing any thing
in the colonies, as long as he could perceive no object to be gained by
exerting himself.
Just then, I was myself slightly inclined to take a similar view of
things. I had hoped and toiled to make myself as perfect, as was
possible for a human being, placed in my circumstances. What had I
gained by it? Nothing. What could I expect to gain? Nothing.
Influenced by these thoughts, I remained for some time in doubt, whether
I should return to the diggings or not. Life there, was, after all,
only an excitement. It was not happiness.
Several times the temptation came strong upon me, to go back to Jessie;
and see if I could find happiness with her. In striving to overcome
this temptation, I was, perhaps, acting not so unlike my companions--
Vane and Cannon: I was refusing to accept of fortune's favours, when
they could so easily have been won.
They were in a growing colony, where, with labour, they might easily
have obtained a high position--yet they would not exert themselves. I
was playing a very similar part; for I saw how I might become happy--at
all events, how I might live without unhappiness--yet I rejected the
opportunity fortune had thus set before me. I would only consent to
accept happiness on my own terms; and my obstinacy was not so very
different from that which was the besetting sin of my companions.
I never felt more like a Rolling Stone, than when in Melbourne upon that
occasion; but the sensation was not peculiar to myself: for the city
contained thousands of people who had been everywhere; and were ready,
at an hour's notice, to go there again!
Volume Two, Chapter XXIX.