When my school life ended, I returned to my home, which was now a pretty cottage, surrounded by a garden full of lovely flowers and shrubs, enclosed by a high white paling fence. The house had a verandah in front covered with white jasmine, roses, and honeysuckle. The entrance led at once into the drawing-room, from thence into another we called the music-room, and farther on into a back hall, from which you entered the dining and bed rooms. At the back a flight of stone steps led to kitchen, servants’ room, and laundry; at the other side a well-room and larder; at the end of the front verandah was a room we used as a study, and at the side a door leading to another flight of steps to a stone passage between our house and the next. It was the prettiest and coolest house I ever lived in in Sydney. While there my mother seemed to rally from a severe illness she had had and became her bright self again, with all her children around her once more; and having two very good servants, affairs were a little more cheery. My father nearly losing his life brought back again all her dislike to the colony. He had gone over to the north shore by the ferry collecting for his Australian cabinet of insects, when about four miles inland, going through the scrub, he felt something sting his leg; on looking down he saw one of the most deadly snakes gliding away. His first thought was, “If I have not a knife I am a dead man.” He had one fortunately, so sitting down on a fallen tree he cut the piece of flesh out round the bitten part, then tore his handkerchief in half, and tied the pieces tightly above and below the wound. It was an intensely hot January day, so that his four-mile walk through the scrub and sand was dreadful. When he reached the ferry the boat was on the other side; but a boatman near saw that something was the matter, and running towards him, asked, “What is wrong, sir?” My father was just able to answer, “Met with an accident; take me to the nearest doctor in Lower George Street,” when he fainted from loss of blood and over-exertion. The doctor knew my father, and when he had given him some brandy and restored him to his senses, asked him to relate what had happened. When we returned home from church the house was in commotion. My father was being walked up and down between two men, who were not to allow him to sleep on any account. He often said afterwards he remembered little about it, as he believed the brandy the doctor had given him made him intoxicated, he being a very temperate man, and never taking spirits at any time. The snake, as he thought, was one of the most deadly kind, and the doctor said the long walk after the bite had caused some small portion of the virus to mix with the blood. It was one of the few cases of recovery from that reptile’s poison ever heard of, and for some weeks the wound was most painful. This made me always most nervous in regard to snakes, and often spoiled my enjoyment of country walks. On two occasions I was only just saved from treading on them by the merest chance. Once sitting on the verandah of a friend’s house at Double Bay on a Sunday morning, I heard the words, “Don’t move; there is a snake round the leg of the chair you are on.” I obeyed, but the creature, disturbed by the voice, moved off the verandah and disappeared. That same day we were sitting at dinner when the report of the gun was heard, which at that time used to be fired by the mail steamers on arrival in Sydney Harbour; and my friend went out to see the steamer pass, when there was monsieur snake on the door-mat basking in the sun. This time nothing was done to disturb him till means were procured for his destruction, and he was killed. On the other occasion I was walking across Balmain with a friend. When passing through a rocky part we came to some water, James said, “Let me go first.” Just as he did so, I saw a large “whip snake” lying on the path. In an instant his foot was on it. Being a heavy man he crushed the head: if it had been my lighter weight it would only have disturbed the creature. I nearly fainted; but my friend began to scold and then laugh at my fears.
CHAPTER IV
We had some congenial visitors at this time in two officers and the artist belonging to H.M.S. Fly and Bramble, which were visiting Sydney occasionally, being on an exploring and surveying cruise among the islands in the Pacific. The explorer Leichhardt also spent some evenings at our house, my father taking so great an interest in the same pursuits. It was very pleasant listening to their conversation on such subjects. We also had men in the colony then worth listening to. Responsible government had not yet been granted, and for the real welfare of the country it would have been better if it had been withheld another twenty years at least. Such men as Wentworth, Darvall, Cowper, Windeyer, Lowe, and others, were fit to hold the reins, and knew how to legislate, and would not sell its best interests as long as they remained in power, as our later legislators have done.
We had two daily papers—the Sydney Morning Herald and the Empire. The latter became the political stepping-stone of the man whom some consider the chief cause of the large liabilities of New South Wales. In fact, nearly the whole of the Australian colonies have suffered through their legislators being needy men without any knowledge of financial matters,—men who were unable to finance their own small affairs, and have only existed on polities while in place, and borrowing while out.
What would the children of the present day think of there being only one toy-shop in Sydney—Reeves’s in Elizabeth Street,—where the lowest priced doll was five shillings, a common box of toys half a crown? There was another shop in Hunter Street where better class things could be purchased, principally in wood and ivory. I have often been in both, and since have seen the owner of the latter the companion of princes. Fortune plays extraordinary pranks sometimes, and certainly in a new country shows her usual fickleness more frequently than in older ones. Impudence, assurance, egotism, and a supreme belief in one’s own ability goes a long way with some people, and the everlasting I is believed in, and pushes its way to the front.
Nothing could be more beautiful than the views from our friend’s verandah at Darling Point, the clear intensely blue sky and the small islands covered with foliage dotted about the harbour. We used to sit there for hours after dinner watching the beautiful effects of light and shade on the sea. The mosquitoes were not so troublesome as in Sydney. Such a splendid garden and orchard full of novelty to us Londoners,—apricot, peach, nectarine, and bananas in blossom or fruit; Norfolk Island pines, eucalyptus, cedars, camphor laurels, and numbers of others I forget the names of. Beneath the gardens, on the rocks, we could gather oysters ad libitum, taking a hammer to dislodge them, and some bread and butter with porter for the elders. In this way we had many a delicious impromptu lunch, and then started for a long walk to Double and Rose Bays. There were no people’s grounds to trespass on until we reached Point Piper, but green swards and trees, almost to the water’s edge. Now there are gardens, terraced and flat, bathing-houses, and jetties, where lie yachts and pleasure boats. Picnics were the chief outdoor amusement (croquet and lawn-tennis were not known then): I really think I have been to all the available spots for these sometimes rather trying amusements, as with the thermometer at 90 to 100 degrees in the shade you had mosquitoes and flies innumerable, and what with ants of various sizes, and the horror of snakes, I often felt that “I would rather remain at home and keep the skin on my nose.” Nevertheless when there, I danced and sang with the rest. My brother started on a fishing excursion with a friend one Saturday afternoon, intending to return by moonlight. A southerly wind set in suddenly. They managed to get under the lee of an island, and then made for Middle Harbour; but their boat when near shelter capsized, and they with it were dashed against the rocks. Both escaped without injury, excepting the boat. They soon found an overhanging rock to shelter them, lighted a fire, and determined to remain the night, taking off their clothes by degrees to dry them, and then sat down to tea, damper, a smoke, and yarn. Presently a bright light roused them. On looking round they saw their clothes were on fire,—fortunately coats and hats only. The next morning they started early to walk to the nearest ferry so as to arrive in Sydney during church time. Such a disreputable pair made their appearance, footsore and weary! I said, “You will not go fishing again in a hurry, H——;” but he did, the next Saturday afternoon. Amusements were not plentiful in Sydney,—only one theatre, and that too poor in every respect for a family who had so recently seen the best in London. Concerts were occasionally held in the large room of the Royal Hotel, and lectures at the School of Arts. There were also some good private players and singers.
The flower shows were a great treat, held in a large marquee in the Domain. The display of flowers, fruit, and vegetables was most interesting to us, consisting as it did of so much we had been accustomed to consider rare or uncommon,—peaches, nectarines, loquats, and passion fruit. Then the flowers,—camellias, Daphnes, Bouganvilliers, Hoyas, Tecomas, and others I had never seen before. Now we revelled in them. My mother even acknowledged, “We could not obtain such in London.” At this time she would hardly allow that, as owing to the present system of railways, flowers like these are brought from Italy and the south of France in great quantities.
The Queen’s birthday was a great day for Sydney, a close holiday. Levée in the morning, a grand review in the afternoon, and the evening for the ball at Government House, with a grand display of bonfires and fireworks for the people. Can you imagine George Street closely packed with people, with squibs, rockets, and crackers being let off from one side of the street to the other, Catharine-wheels fastened to pieces of wood and held aloft? I saw this from a window between Market Street and the Royal Hotel in 184-. Saturday too for some years in the same locality presented a great contrast to its present quiet. The only market was very small, so carts, barrows, and baskets lined the street, filled with everything the poorer class could want,—second-hand clothes, boots, books, dairy produce, fruit, vegetables, poultry—in fact a regular Olla podrida, as is at present displayed in the stalls at “Paddy’s Market,” which was then only a hay market. A few months ago, to my great astonishment, in going from one part of the west end to another in London I was reminded of this; but the English street market was in the daytime. We have nothing of the kind in Sydney, neither is the pavement of our principal streets taken up by itinerant dealers displaying mechanical toys, or taking in the unwary by selling them wonderful bargains. Government House hospitalities were far more exclusive than now, only a certain class had the entrée; but on the Queen’s birthday the members of both Houses of Parliament, professional men, civil servants, and merchants were invited. Shopkeepers were excluded. What a change now! Ministers of the Government are hotel-keepers, and members of Parliament keep shops or stores; but this is gaining ground all over the world. Money makes the man, and if impecunious peers and peeresses in England take to trade, surely our colonists of every degree may try to legislate if they have education, talent, and means. It is the needy, self-seeking politician who will say and do anything to keep his place and pay, I object to. I hope for the wellbeing of the country I love that in the future there will be Australians who will legislate for the good of their country and not for their own selfish interests. Now, alas, though there are some few, disgusted with the present state of things, they cannot stem the power of the majority created by manhood suffrage, giving every loafer an equal voting power with the intelligent and honourable man.
I have been present at several birthday balls in the far-away days, and could relate many amusing episodes, but will not, to raise a laugh at the ignorance or gaucherie of kindly people. Lady G——’s guests were from all classes: some from the lonely “Bush” living in country style, and only visiting Sydney once a year, who, if they were a little awkward, or talked about dairies, poultry, and their children, thought finger-glasses were “tumblers” and bonbons “fireworks,” were warm-hearted, hospitable, and generous. “Being from the old country” was a passport to admit the stranger to their hearths and homes. And I have no doubt at this time in England there are many living in country places the iron-horse has not yet reached just as unsophisticated, for even now in this village, only one hour’s train ride from London, there is a woman who never heard of false teeth, but thought “dentists could make teeth grow.”