Читать книгу My Experiences in Australia. - A Lady - Страница 7

Table of Contents

First impressions of Sydney—Half-disappointed—The streets—Irregular style of building—Scarcity of private houses—Hyde Park—Its surroundings—A colonial notability—Another—The value of a character—A model of colonial architecture—St. James's Church—Its neighbours—Legislative Council Chambers—An odious comparison—Newspapers—Literary taste in the colony—More about the streets—Government gardens—Flower shows—Gardening "doesn't pay"—Government House—A stranger's yearning for home.

"That which they have done, but earnest of the things that they shall do." —Tennyson.

Though I have stated in the previous chapter, that Sydney stood every chance of finding in me a somewhat partial delineator, so truly delighted was I once more to set foot on dry land, yet I cannot say that the first impressions with which it inspired me were very favourable. I suppose I had expected too much, for I fancy I ought to have been much struck with it; this is a piece of common courtesy expected from every stranger. The general remark used to be, "Were you not delighted with the town—it must be so far in advance of what you could have expected? Are not the shops in George Street very handsome?" Now, the simple truth is, I was disappointed in Sydney as a city; nothing can be more beautiful than its situation, and its extent equalled my anticipations, but the streets are straggling and irregular; here and there some fine shops and public buildings, and adjoining them, miserable tumble-down cottages, surrounded with old broken palings, all evidently erected in the "year one" of the colony.

The city does not seem to have been built originally according to any plan, but the ground was sold or given in patches to private individuals, who erected all sorts of edifices, with all sorts of aspects and accesses, such as seemed good in their own eyes, and accorded best with their own private resources. The result, naturally enough, is not very striking or imposing, although I am told much has been done during the past few years, in opening culs de sac, and thus adding to the length of the streets, if not to their width or regularity. Still, if you take into consideration the fact that these streets are badly paved—when paved at all—shockingly drained, and very indifferently lighted: these circumstances must, I think, induce one to admit that the good folks of Sydney, with their large municipal revenue, have yet some reason to be ashamed of the architectural defects and sanitary arrangements of their city. Another thing that struck me very much in Sydney, was the absence of those rows of private houses which give such an air of respectability, even to our second-rate provincial towns at home. The best looking houses of this description in the town, are in Wynyard Square, and are inhabited almost exclusively by rich merchants, principally Jews. Then there are some few comfortable houses in Elizabeth Street, opposite a large green which the old inhabitants point to with no little pride and delight, and call Hyde Park. I call it by courtesy a green, as, during the three or four winter months that I beheld it, it might lay some claim to be thus designated, but for the remainder of the year, the grass can boast of no such refreshing hue; indeed, I have been told almost all traces of verdure disappear, partly from the attacks of the sheep, cattle, and innumerable little droves of goats, always to be found trespassing within its bounds, and partly from the scorching effects of the summer sun, and the whirlwinds of dust with which this favoured region is visited.

In speaking of Hyde Park, I must not omit to mention Lyons Terrace, the miniature "Park Lane" of Sydney, containing some six or eight houses, by no means remarkable for their architectural beauty, but containing good public apartments, and forming roomy and comfortable residences; but these buildings having been, I believe, the first of their class erected in the city, "The Terrace," par excellence, is regarded with great pride and admiration alike by the patriarchs and the rising generation. It was built by an old convict of the name of Lyons—hence its designation; not, as some one suggested, from its being the chosen residence of sundry of the colonial notables. Some short account of its founder may not be wholly uninteresting, as serving to give an idea of the extraordinary career of some of the old convicts in former days.

This worthy was transported in the early times of the colony, and, from conducting himself properly while passing through the usual gradations of a convict's lot, he obtained in due time his ticket of leave, and set up as an auctioneer. Being by this time thoroughly convinced that honesty was the best policy, both in a moral and money-making point of view, he wisely practised it, continued to gain the confidence of the Sydney public, and died in the possession of great wealth. A contemporary of his, as I have been told, another old convict, of the name of Samuel Terry, contrived to amass a still larger fortune (some £20,000 per annum) from very small beginnings; his first possessions having been limited to his gains at the precarious game of "pitch and toss." The money thus earned he laid out in buying spirits, which he sold to old soldiers for their grants of land. In time these grants became very valuable, and constituted a considerable portion of the very large fortune referred to. There is a story told of this person which seems almost too good to be genuine, but nevertheless I was assured it was a fact. He was attended on the occasion of some severe illness, by an old military or naval doctor, of well-known probity, to whom he is reported to have said, "Ah, doctor! I would give ten thousand pounds for your character." "Yes," was the somewhat cynical reply; "but only that you might make twenty of it."

But I have been digressing somewhat from the subject under discussion. To return to Sydney itself, and its public buildings. On the other side of the "Park" is the Roman Catholic cathedral, a very handsome edifice, which reflects no little credit on the liberality of the Roman Catholic portion of the Sydney community; near it is the old Sydney College, a plain unadorned building, a temporary substitute for the very handsome University now in the course of erection on the outskirts of the town.

Within a short distance of the college is the Museum, a somewhat unsightly edifice, which, I was told, a gentleman now well known in the political world at home, had called "an exaggerated mouse-trap," from its bearing, in outward appearance, no small resemblance to the useful little contrivance in question. Last, but not least, in describing the buildings situated round this "Park," or Race course (for I should not omit to state it is known also by this name, though now, at all events, never used for the purpose it would suggest), I must not neglect to give due honour to St. James's Church, a large edifice of red brick, with a tall slated spire—about as ugly a building, both within and without, as can well be imagined; but one of which the imaginary architectural beauties are, nevertheless, regarded by the old colonists with much the same sort of admiration, as may be felt by modern Romans for the mighty dome of St. Peter's. To the younger members of the community, it is a sort of St. George's, Hanover Square, a place where all fashionable marriages are solemnized, and which is graced, moreover, every Sunday by the presence of the beauty and fashion of the metropolis.

Flanking this building on either side are the old Criminal Courthouse, and the original Convicts' Barracks the character of the former inhabitants of these buildings seeming to offer an apt illustration of an old proverb. A somewhat more fitting neighbour for a sacred edifice, is the hospital situated just at the entrance of Macquarie Street. Adjoining the hospital, are the Legislative Council Chambers but temporary buildings it is to be hoped, as they are hardly in a style to do much credit to the city, being in fact mere iron erections, by no means so imposing in their external appearance as the edifices ought to be in which is transacted the business of so large and thriving a colony as New. South Wales. The interior, however, is neat and comfortable, though somewhat small, and the halls, especially that of the Legislative Council, are fitted up in good enough taste, although very insignificant when compared with those of the younger colony of Victoria, of which I shall speak in their place in this narrative.

On the opposite side of the same street is the subscription library—a handsome building, but not, as I have understood, quite so well supplied with books as it ought to be. In fact it must, I think, be confessed that, with some few individual exceptions, the public of Sydney is not a reading public. It is far too practical to waste much time on general literature. Those whose time is not wholly taken up by money-making pursuits, give all their leisure to politics; and the few whose private resources admit of such indulgence, not unfrequently devote every thought and faculty to this most engrossing of all pursuits.

There are two daily papers, and several weekly ones, edited with more or less talent and ability, and these organs of public opinion are eagerly perused by all classes of society; but books treating on abstract matters—indeed, all literary publications not touching on the actual present interests of the colony—are little sought after or cared for. Bookworms or authors would meet with little sympathy there. I should much doubt whether even a genuine poet would be made a lion of, even by the ladies, unless he was particularly good looking or had a handle to his name: or by the gentlemen, unless he was able and willing to write political squibs. This want of literary tastes among the ladies I attribute partly to the enervating effects of the climate, which disinclines the residents for all mental as well as bodily exertion, and partly to the American custom of introducing girls into society at such a very early age, that there has been really but little time for mental culture, or for the acquisition of the information without which these tastes are not likely to exist. Of course I must be understood as speaking generally, and among the acquaintances I formed, I could name some few exceptions to my theory, but from what I heard and saw, I think it holds good as applied to the class.

To return, however, to my description of the town: the streets I have named are, I think, those in which most of the private dwelling houses are situated, though there are a few of an inferior description in some of the other thoroughfares, more in the business part of the town. The most important of these thoroughfares is undoubtedly George Street—the Regent Street of Sydney—in which most of the best shops are to be found. It extends from the Circular Quay almost to the site of the New University—a distance, I suppose, of some two or three miles—and though known by different names at its two extremities, is in reality one and the same street, running with many and various bends from north to south, as do all the more important thoroughfares. Intersecting these at all sorts of angles are other streets, generally of less importance, but some of them boasting of many good shops, as is the case with King Street and Hunter Street. The last, indeed (Hunter Street), contained two which had more interest for me than any others in the town. They belonged to bird-stuffers, and their windows were always full of many curious and beautiful specimens of the feathered natives of Australia, both alive and dead: parrots and parroquets of many and various hues, the well-known white cockatoo, with its lemon-coloured crest, and the far rarer and larger black one, with bright scarlet top-knot and tail-feathers, a most magnificent bird, specimens of which are most difficult to be obtained, from its wild shy habits.

These and many other denizens of the bush, down to the well-known boodjerigah, or shell parrot, or love bird, as it is more commonly called, with its beautiful plumage of soft vivid green, and the still smaller and scarcely less beautiful diamond bird, with its speckled wings and golden breast, made these shops points of great attraction to me, and I plead guilty to many idle moments passed in gazing in at their windows, and admiring and even coveting their contents. But in a general way the streets of Sydney do not strike a stranger as possessing any great attraction as promenades; the pavements are narrow and generally out of repair, and excepting immediately after a heavy fall of rain when the crossings are hardly fordable, the streets are swept by whirlwinds of dust, which are most particularly disagreeable to all foot passengers, and to ladies' dresses ruinous in the extreme.

In general, however, the ladies of Sydney are no great pedestrians, though, when they do venture on a walk, it is somewhat astonishing to see their evident preference for the hot, dusty, crowded streets, to the pleasantly shaded walks of the Government Domain. This same Government Domain is in my estimation the great ornament and attraction, I had almost said the redeeming feature, of Sydney. It was laid out during General Macquarie's government, and does great credit to the good taste of those who reserved it for the lungs of the future city. It is situated on one of the small bays of the harbour, and commands many beautiful views of different points and headlands. In addition to this, it is well wooded and contains three or four miles of walks and drives, comprising also within its limits the Upper and Lower Botanical Gardens. The former are laid out somewhat stiffly in squares and geometrical figures, and contain a small range of forcing houses, as extensive no doubt as is necessary in this delightful climate, but still on a very limited scale; so that any one familiar with the immense extent to which glass is employed in the old country, cannot help smiling at the evident pride with which the old colonists point to these small edifices—a trifle larger than ordinary melon frames which seem to excite more of their admiration and attention than do the natural beauties of the gardens, which are really very considerable. Trees and plants from all parts of the world flourish here in great profusion: the Bamboo, the India-rubber tree, the Loquhat, the Norfolk Island pines, and Palms of every variety. Fuchsias, Heliotropes, Geraniums, and Camellias, the objects of so much care in our ungenial climate, grow here to a large size, and form most beautiful objects in this garden landscape; but to my eyes the most lovely of all these flowering plants are the creepers, which grow in great profusion, and are trained over walls and trellis-work.

Indeed, these and many beautiful exotics (of the old country) growing so luxuriantly in the open air, serve more than anything else to remind the stranger how far away he is from dear old England; for in many respects Sydney is so like some of our provincial towns—there is so little to strike any one as new or foreign in its appearance—that it is difficult for the stranger to realise that so many thousands of miles lie between this country of his adoption and his own dear native land.

Of the two Botanical Gardens which I have been describing, the most attractive is undoubtedly the Lower Garden, as it is called, which borders one of the many pretty little bays of the harbour; the walks in it are laid out with very great taste, and form delightful promenades. In the early mornings it is a favourite haunt of nursery-maids and children, and once a week becomes a favourite resort of the colonial world of fashion, one of the regimental bands playing there every Tuesday afternoon. On Sundays, too, it is thrown open after morning service, and is thronged by the mechanical and working classes, but at other times this beautiful spot is comparatively deserted.

Three or four times in the course of the year flower shows are held here. I was present at one of them (in October), but in my opinion these exhibitions add very little to the everyday attractions of the gardens. The exhibitors were very few in number, and one tent sufficed for all the specimens collected. There were some fine samples of fruit and a few rare and beautiful plants, but, generally speaking, the Sydney public have something else to do than to spend much time or money in the cultivation of their gardens, labour is so very expensive, and that sort of thing "does not pay."

In my description of the Government Domain, I must not omit making mention of the Government House. It is rather a fine building, in what I think is called the "Tudor" style of architecture; the reception rooms are good, and the windows command a most beautiful view over parts of the harbour and north shore. It is the only building in Sydney or its environs which can give the young Australians any idea of "the stately homes of England." There are many other pretty residences belonging to private individuals, erected in the outskirts of the town, but they are all in the cottage or villa style. The enormous price of labour makes building so very expensive, that the erection of a mansion at all approaching in extent the large rambling manor houses so often to be met with in the old country, would really swallow up a fortune; so that it is not very surprising that the good folks of Sydney should be contented with comparatively small residences; though I must own I was somewhat astonished at the style of architecture most frequently adopted, it seems so little suited to the climate of the country. Few precautions are taken against the heat, which in summer is most excessive. In the town but few of the houses are built with verandahs, or provided with jalousies of any description. Even Government House is not much better off in this respect, and though a handsome building, seems hardly adapted for a country in which during six months out of the twelve the thermometer varies from 70° to 90°.

I think I have now described the most remarkable features of the actual city of Sydney, and in my next chapter will give some short account of the numerous suburbs which have lately sprung up about it. I do not fancy that I have depicted it in very glowing colours, but it is not a place, I think, which a stranger is likely to be much taken with. Few new arrivals are much pleased with it. After a time, no doubt, all would be viewed differently; interests and occupations spring up, and it is as desirable as it is natural that the land of one's adoption, where one's home is formed for life should be viewed with partial eyes; but to the mere visitor, I know of few more uninteresting places. There is not the charm of novelty, which renders a short residence in a foreign town agreeable, and yet the very thing that makes home dear—all old associations are also wanting, and at first and for many a long day, constant and deep must be the yearnings of emigrants, of almost all classes and characters, for "country, mother country," and many an earnest prayer must be breathed for permission

"To gaze upon her shores again."