I.
SYDNEY IN 1839.
EVEN amongst Australians the Sydney people are daily “chaffed” for the pride they on all occasions evince about what they call “Our Harbour.” I must say that after Brest, Cork, Rio Janeiro, and the Bay of Islands—even the far-famed Bay of Naples, all of which I have visited, and in turn admired—I did not anticipate any very great surprise at the first glimpse of Port Jackson.
But when, at daybreak, on that beautiful summer morning, I came on the poop of the brig Martha, and, for the first time, saw as we turned round the inner South Head this vast expanse of placid blue water—North Harbour and Manly on the right, Middle Head and Middle Harbour facing us, and Port Jackson on the left, with the Blue Mountains in the distance—all other harbours dwindled down to almost insignificance. As we sailed towards Farm Cove, and each succeeding bay, inlet, or head-land were passed, my admiration increased.
I have spent many years in Sydney; very many days boating; have visited every nook and corner of that immense bay, and I must confess that the natives of Sydney have every reason to be proud of their “Harbour.”
Sydney in 1839 was, as compared to its present condition, a very small village. It was a quaint, old-fashioned township, principally occupied by Government officials—military and civil—troops and convicts—some already rich and arbitrary, the others still serving their sentence—obedient, even cringing—but holding their rich “pals” in perfect abhorrence.
It was in those days quite a common occurrence to hear of a woman arriving in the Colony as an emigrant, claiming her husband—a convict—as her assigned servant, and vice versa. Couples re-united in this wise have, in many instances, begun the world over again in Australia, and ended their days in affluence and respectability. Officers, public servants, in those days, when the male sex predominated, in many instances married their assigned servants, picked at random at the “factory” in Parramatta.
This may now seem outrageous, nevertheless in most cases the result of what may appear a most objectionable match, has proved quite the reverse from what might have been expected. It would not do even now to search too deeply into the pedigree of some of the Australians; but I will say that some of the most honourable, best educated, and highly refined men of the day, would, if their escutcheon was scratched, show beneath the emblazonments, a trace of the broad arrow on some part of it.
I do not wish, in making this statement, to say anything disparaging of these people—quite the reverse. The history of New South Wales is quite unparalleled in that of the world. The management of the penal settlements of Australia is one of the most striking instances of the thoroughly admirable system of colonisation on record. With a country like Australia—in view of its distance—the trying and capricious climate—the wretched poverty of the soil—it could never have been colonised by free emigration. It needed the indomitable energy, and the spirit of enterprise of a British Government, and the pluck of the Anglo-Saxon race, to cope with the difficulties of such an enterprise.
See Australia now, a young country joining in friendly rivalry with older and more favoured nations. To fully appreciate the proud position it now occupies, one must need look back a few years. Look at the starting point! Think of that day, barely a century ago, when the first ship anchored in Sydney Cove. Think of the several phases of continuous droughts where the handful of inhabitants were on the eve of starvation from want of flour, and even water, on this immense continent, now a populous, rich nation, teeming with a free and enlightened population, possessing magnificent cities, railways, electric communication, and freedom in the most essential expression of that word.