On the farther or southern side of the square are the Law Courts, as to which I was informed that that intended for the Supreme Court was not used as intended, being less convenient than an older building opposite to it. I did not go into either of them.
Adelaide is well provided with churches,—so much so that this speciality has been noticed ever since its first foundation. It was peculiarly the idea of those who formed the first mission to South Australia, that there should be no dominant Church;—that religious freedom should prevail in the new colony as it never had prevailed up to that time in any British settlement; and that the word dissent should have no meaning, as there should be nothing established from which to disagree. In spite of all this the Church of England has assumed a certain ascendency, partly from the fact that a liberal and worthy Englishwoman, now Lady Burdett-Coutts, endowed a bishopric at Adelaide; but chiefly from the indubitable fact that they of the Church of England who have flocked into the colony have been higher in wealth and intelligence than those of any other creed. It would be singular indeed had it not been so, seeing that the country from which they came had for centuries possessed an established and endowed Church. But the very fact that the Church of England boasted for itself even in this colony a kind of ascendency, and the other fact that the colony had been founded with the determination that there should be no ascendency, have together created great enmity among the rival sects. While I was in Adelaide a motion was before parliament,—as to which I heard the debate then in progress,—for taking away the right of precedency belonging by royal authority to the present bishop. Both Houses had passed a bill, with the purpose of taking away from the prelate the almost unmeaning privilege of precedence. It had been reserved by the governor, with undeniable propriety, for the decision of the government at home. The Secretary of State for the Colonies had returned a dispatch, intended to be most conciliatory, stating that the Crown would be happy to consider any proposition made by the colony, but that the legislature of the colony could not be permitted to annul the undoubted prerogative of the Crown to grant honours. But the matter was again argued as though a great injury had been inflicted. It was well understood by all men that in the event of a vacancy in the bishopric no successor would be appointed by the Crown; and that any future bishop,—appointed as he must be by a synod of the Church,—would have conferred on him by his appointment no privilege of walking out of any room before anybody else. But such is the feeling of the colony in regard to religious freedom, and such the feeling especially in the city of Adelaide, that a politician desirous of popularity felt, not without cause, that a stroke of political business might be done in this direction. Of all storms in a teacup, no storm could be more insignificant than this. That the present bishop, who has the good word of everybody, should be allowed to wear to the last the very unimportant honour conferred upon him, would have seemed to be a matter of course. He has, since, resigned the right. It was, however, thought worth while not only to fight the question, but to re-fight it. The matter is worthy of notice only as showing the feeling of the people on the subject. I may here remark that Adelaide has been called especially a city of churches, so strong has been the ambition of various sects to have it seen publicly that their efforts to obtain places of worship worthy of their religion have been as successful as those of their sister sects. The result has tended greatly to the decoration of the town. Among them all, the Church of England is, at the present moment, by no means the best represented. A cathedral, however, designed by Butterfield, is now rising as fast as its funds will permit.
All round the city there are reserved lands, of which I may best explain the nature to English readers by calling them parks for the people. These reserves are of various widths in different parts, but are full half a mile wide on an average. They are now being planted, and are devoted to air and recreation. I need hardly explain that they cannot as yet rival the beauty and the shade of our London parks: but that they will do so is already apparent to the eye. And they will have this advantage,—which, indeed, since the growth of the town towards the west belongs also to our London parks,—that they will be in the middle, not on the outside, of an inhabited city. As Adelaide increases in population, these “reserves” will be in the midst of the inhabitants. But they will have also this additional advantage,—which we in London do not as yet enjoy, in spite of efforts that have been made,—that they will not be a blessing only to one side or to one end of the city. They will run east and west, north and south, and will be within the reach of all Adelaide and her suburbs. There are here also public gardens,—as there are in every metropolis of the Australian colonies. The gardens of Adelaide cannot rival those of Sydney,—which, as far as my experience goes, are unrivalled in beauty anywhere. Nothing that London possesses, nothing that Paris has, nothing that New York has, comes near to them in loveliness. But, as regards Australian cities, those of Adelaide are next to the gardens of Sydney. In Melbourne the gardens are more scientific, but the world at large cares but little for science. In Sydney, the public gardens charm as poetry charms. At Adelaide, they please like a well-told tale. The gardens at Melbourne are as a long sermon from a great divine,—whose theology is unanswerable, but his language tedious.
I have said that the city has a background of hills called the Mount Lofty Range,—so called by Captain Flinders when he made his first survey. The only pretension to landscape beauty which the city possesses is derived from these mountains. It was indeed said many years ago by one much interested in Adelaide, that she was built on a “pretty stream.” The “stream” is called the Torrens, after one of the founders of the colony, but I utterly deny the truth of the epithet attached to it. Anything in the guise of a river more ugly than the Torrens it would be impossible either to see or to describe. During eleven months of the year it is a dry and ugly channel,—retaining only the sewer-wards property of a river. In this condition I saw it. During the other month it is, I was told, a torrent. But the hills around are very pretty, and afford lovely views and charming sites for villa residences, and soil and climate admirably suited for market gardens. As a consequence of this latter attribute Adelaide is well supplied with vegetables and fruit. By those who can afford to pay the price already demanded for special sites, beautiful nooks for suburban residences may still be obtained.
The city receives its water from an artificial dam constructed about eight miles from it, but the reservoir used when I was there had been deemed insufficient for the growing needs of the town. A larger dam, calculated to hold innumerable gallons, had been just finished as far as the earthworks were concerned, and was waiting to be filled by the winter rains. A tunnel had been made through the hillside for its supply,—so that it might water Adelaide and all her suburbs for generations to come. But generations come so quickly now, that for aught I can tell Adelaide may want a new dam and infinitely increased gallons before one generation has entirely passed away. If it be so, I do not doubt but that the new dam and all the gallons will be forthcoming. While speaking of water, I must acknowledge that during three months of the year water is a matter of vital consideration to the inhabitants of Adelaide. I was not there in December, January, or February; but from the admission of inhabitants,—of Adelaideans not too prone to admit anything against their town,—I learned that it can be very hot during those three months. I liked Adelaide much,—and I liked the Adelaideans; but I must confess to my opinion that it is about the hottest city in Australia south of the tropics. The heat, however, is not excessive for above three months. I arrived in the first week of April, and then the weather was delightful. I was informed that the great heats rarely commence before the second week in December. But when it is hot, it is very hot. Men and women sigh for 95 in the shade, as they, within the tropics, sigh for the temperate zones.
But in all respects such as that of water,—in regard to pavements, gas, and sewers, in regard to hospitals, lunatic asylums, institutions for the poor, and orphanages,—the cities of Australia stand high; and few are entitled to be ranked higher than Adelaide. I had an opportunity of seeing many of these institutions, including the gaol inside the city and the gaol outside; and I saw some of them under the auspices of one who was perhaps better entitled to judge of them than any other man in the colony. It seemed to me that they were only short of absolute excellence. When I remembered how small was the population, how short a time had elapsed since the place was a wilderness, how limited the means, how necessarily curtailed were the appliances at the command of what we should call such a handful of men,—and when I remembered also what I have seen in our own workhouses at home, what I have heard of some of our own gaols, what but a few years since prevailed in many of our own lunatic asylums,—I could not but think that the people of Adelaide had been very active and very beneficent. Of course every new town founded has the advantage of all the experience of every old town founded before it. It is easier for a new country, than for an old country, to get into good ways. No man has visited new countries with his eyes open without learning so much as that. But, not the less, when the observer sees 60,000 people in a new city, with more than all the appliances of humanity belonging to four times the number in old cities, he cannot refrain from bestowing his meed of admiration. I will now finish my remarks about this town with saying that no city in Australia gives one more fixedly the idea that Australian colonisation has been a success, than does the city of Adelaide.
CHAPTER III.
LAND.
I have said that Adelaide has been called a city of churches. It has also been nicknamed the Farinaceous City. A little gentle ridicule is no doubt intended to be conveyed by the word. The colony by the sister colonies is regarded as one devoted in a special manner to the production of flour. Men who spend their energy in the pursuit of gold consider the growing of wheat to be a poor employment. And again the squatters, or wool-producers of Australia, who are great men, with large flocks, and with acres of land at their command so enormous that they have to be counted, not by acres, but by square miles, look down from a very great height indeed upon the little agriculturists,—small men, who generally live from hand to mouth,—and whose original occupation of their holdings has commonly been supposed to be at variance with the squatters’ interests. The agriculturists of Australia generally are free-selecters, men who have bought bits here and bits there off the squatters’ runs, and have bought the best bits,—men, too, whose neighbourhood, for reasons explained before, has not been a source of comfort to the squatters generally. In this way agriculture generally, and especially the growing of wheat-crops for sale, has not been regarded in the colonies as it is certainly regarded at home. The farmers of South Australia are usually called “cockatoos,”—a name which prevails also, though less universally, in the other colonies. The word cockatoo in the farinaceous colony has become so common as almost to cease to carry with it the intended sarcasm. A man will tell you of himself that he is a cockatoo, and when doing so will probably feel some justifiable pride in the freehold possession of his acres. But the name has been given as a reproach, and in truth it has been and is deserved. It signifies that the man does not really till his land, but only scratches it as the bird does.
Nevertheless,—and in spite of any gibes conveyed in the words farinaceous, cockatoo, or free-selecter,—South Australia is especially blessed in being the one great wheat-producing province among the Australian colonies. The harvest of 1870-71,—which was, no doubt, specially productive, but is quoted here because it is the last as to which, as I write, I can obtain the statistics,—gave 6,961,164 bushels of wheat, which at 5s. 3d. a bushel, the price at which it was sold in Adelaide, produced £1,827,305. In the same year, that is, up to 31st December, 1871, which would take the disposal of the crop above mentioned,—for wheat, it must be remembered, in Australia is garnered in our spring, and not in our autumn,—104,000 tons of bread-stuff were exported, and sold for £1,253,342. So that the colony consumed not a third of the breadstuffs which it produced. The population of the colony up to 31st December, 1871, was 189,018 persons. So that the value of the breadstuffs exported in that year was something over £6 12s. 6d. a head for every man, woman, and child within it. With such a result, South Australia need not be ashamed of being called farinaceous.
It must not, however, be supposed that the year above quoted shows a fair average. The following table will give the amount of wheat produced, with the area from which it was produced, the average crop per acre, and the value per bushel, together with the amount of bread-stuff and grain exported for the year above named, and the four preceding years:—