The Roman Catholic Church is far wiser than the Protestant Church, as in every town and country parish where a church is built there is a school also. They know how necessary it is to sow the seed of religious belief with their daily lessons. To my fellow-Protestants in New South Wales or elsewhere I say, keep your church schools in every parish, and to what nobler or better use could the wealthy devote a portion of their riches than by the endowment of church schools? There cannot be a doubt that good training in the early life of a people minimises the necessity for asylums and gaols.
Many will consider my views on the national school question narrow, and ask, Why should the poor children who are clever be deprived of opportunities for cultivating their talents? My answer is, If there is talent, it will, as it always has done, make a way for itself, and did long before this system was thought of. Difficulties are to the talented boy or girl incentives to the exertion necessary to overcome them, and help to form the character. It would be well, after these qualities of talent have developed, that the State should give aid in the way of scholarships or otherwise.
After all, the knowledge acquired at such schools is very superficial; too much is attempted, and the results prove without doubt, “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”
We had several clever and eloquent men in the Sydney churches from Great Britain and some educated in the colony—men who not only performed their Sunday duties, but worked throughout the week without intermission. Parishes then covered very much larger areas than they do at present.
The Roman Catholic clergy, under their great and good head, Archbishop Polding, had worked wonders for their flock. St. Mary’s Cathedral was at this time a fine building, St. Patrick’s and others were commenced. Presbyterian, Congregational, and Wesleyans, all had large and well-filled chapels. The University was now finished, and the affiliated colleges in prospect. Many new and extensive buildings in the principal streets sprang up like magic; but the impetus given to advancement was more especially noticeable in the suburbs. Randwick was now formed into streets; the Destitute Children’s Asylum, founded by Dr. Cuthill, was finished; the racecourse formed; Wooloomooloo nearly covered with houses; William Street, where but a short time since there were only private houses, was now being converted into a thoroughfare of shops; Waverley and Surrey Hills were fast becoming populous neighbourhoods. Cleveland House, which I remember surrounded by gardens and shrubberies, and standing in its many acres of paddock, was being rapidly cut up; the Redfern Railway Station and station yard were formed on a portion of it; the Silent City close by still holds its silent warnings in the midst of man’s progress, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.”
We had occasional visits from celebrities, such as Anna Bishop, Catherine Hayes, G. W. Brooke, and others. Madame Bushelle, Carandini, and Sara Flower were our own; the latter having been with us since 1852. What a voice she had, and what a splendid teacher! I met her at her brother’s a few weeks after her arrival in Australia, before she had made her début before a Sydney audience. Poor thing! what a sad end was hers; but through years of work and privation she never lost her voice. We had an excellent opera company which she joined—in which were Squires, Madame Escott, Farquharson, Beaumont, with many others, as my contemporaries will remember.
Lovers of music had a great treat about this time in a series of concerts conducted by Lavenu, and held in the grand hall of our University. The oratorios of the “Messiah,” “Creation,” “Moses in Egypt,” and other works of the best composers were rendered in a masterly manner. The choirs of the Sydney churches which joined with the musical societies of Sydney, both vocal and instrumental, were most efficient. The opera company supplied the leading solos, Sara Flower being a host in herself—Mendelssohn’s music being her speciality, as she made her first appearance in it at the Exeter Hall concerts. Her grand contralto voice filled the hall, and many musical critics remarked that no one ever had sung or ever could sing such music better. This bringing together all the musical talent of Sydney was of inestimable benefit to our young Australians, giving fresh impetus to their decided taste for it.
The fine arts at this period had not made much headway; still, scattered over the country, were many pictures of merit by colonial artists. Architects were not numerous, but now there are several of great ability. In criticising their works, people are apt to forget the difficulties they have had to contend with, the absence of works of renowned men, and the distance from the countries where the finest models and examples are to be seen and studied. Some who have designed works here have never had these advantages, never having been away from their native land. Again I was with my old friends, James and Maria, close to my father’s old home at Redfern; this visit was most thoroughly enjoyed. One day we made a trip to Parramatta by train. I recalled my girlhood as I saw the familiar streets and houses of this old town, with its old-fashioned buildings without verandahs,—similar to those I pass on the road in this Hampshire village,—the trim little gardens full of flowers, the bricked kitchens, and old-world appearances. Parramatta is, next to Sydney, the oldest town in Australia, and even now retains many of its primitive features; the Domain or Park with its avenue of oaks; its old-fashioned Government House; and its factory buildings still left. There is some charming country round it, well cultivated, with orchards, vineyards, and the splendid orangeries, with their golden fruit. My title does not appear such a misnomer, taking into account the many golden-hued flowers, rivers with beds of golden sand, nuggets of gold and golden quartz—in fact, every touch of His, from glowing sunrise to sunset, proclaims it such. We spent several afternoons on board an American ship, which the captain and his young wife made their home. Trade with America was now becoming extensive. This vessel only carried cargo; but the saloon and cabins were fitted like a yacht’s. When on board, I could see from her deck what a marvellous change had taken place—the increase of wharves, the accommodation at the circular quay much enlarged, and the greater number of ships. Balmain, Pyrmont, and Wooloomooloo from the harbour appeared one mass of habitations; North Shore still was country, and the wooded heights of Darling Point, Edgecliff Road, and Woollahra remained partially free from vulgar bricks and mortar.
How well I remember a dance we attended in Campbell Street, near the Haymarket. Though there were cabs at this time, they were few in number, but omnibuses plied through most of the principal suburbs. That week, having been to a ball at Government House, Maria and I suggested, as that had entailed considerable expense, we would go by the omnibus and walk home by the railway works; so we started. Just as we entered our friend’s hall, the Rev. Mr. Hose, acting warden of the University, met us, reminding Maria she had promised him the first quadrille. “So I did; take my cloak, Kate.” I did so; and being engaged for the same dance as their vis-à-vis, hurried down just in time. The first figure ended, and when Maria advanced for L’été, I saw my partner laughing. I looked down, and there was Maria’s white satin boots with her goloshes over them; I waited till she had finished the figure and then told her. No one but an Irishwoman could have been so unconcerned. She stooped, took them off, handed them to her partner, saying, “You see the consequence of having a careful husband.” I felt it was a blessing the said husband was at the other end of the room. We danced until nearly daylight, then with the Rev. Mr. Hose we passed the Haymarket, just as the hay carts were arriving. Nearly thirty years have passed since then, and Sydney has now its “season” for fashionable people. Conventionality prevents many social gatherings. Mrs. Grundy has found her way to the Antipodes, interfering, as she always does, with that which is natural and innocent by her verdict, “It is not considered good form.” Yet I trust our kind, generous, and hearty Australian hospitality will never give in to her, and become as fearful of her “What will people think or say” as they are in England.