1857 - Paul, R. B. Letters from Canterbury, New Zealand - LETTER II.

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LETTER II.

I SPOKE, you may remember, in my last letter, of the mischief done in the early days of the settlement by the reports of disappointed colonists, whose expectations had been unduly raised by the romantic stories told them in England. Restless spirits, who had never yet been contented any where, expected to find tranquillity in this new Arcadia, where their chief occupation would be to recline under the shadow of some overhanging rock, soothing their fleecy charge with the shepherd's pipe: remote from fogs, and taxation, and all the thousand nameless evils which had made their lives a burden to them at home.

Alas! the reality was soon found to be of a sterner type:--

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Long wearisome rides and walks in search of truant sheep or cattle, bivouacs night after night on the damp cold ground, mutton, damper, and tea (and that colonial tea!) at breakfast, dinner, and supper, day after day, and week after week, and month after month; wanderings in trackless deserts, with a choice of passing the night on some bleak mountain side, or wading through an unexplored swamp; and after all this labour finding perhaps that his flock are infected, and that no small amount of money as well as toil must be expended before he can hope for any profit at all; --these are the real experiences of a settler's early days in a young pastoral colony.

Those who had been tenderly nurtured at home no doubt found it a rough life at first: but even then it was positive luxury compared with the musquito-devoured, rat-overrun, squalid, unwholesome existence of the Australian gold-digger, or the camp-life of our brave soldiers in the Crimea. At any rate, whatever it was, our young men, with very few exceptions, have struggled nobly through it, and are now, I rejoice to find, beginning to reap the fruits of their perseverance. With almost all our early settlers, indeed, the days of privation are well-nigh ended. The efflux of labour, consequent on the Australian gold mania, threw us back, it is true, for a year or two; but that

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is all over now; and even the difficulty of procuring domestic servants has been, as far as I can make out, almost, if not altogether, removed by recent immigration.

And then there is a heartiness in the tone of colonial society very cheering to the new-comer, who is sure to find, unless he grossly misbehaves himself, the right hand of fellowship stretched out to him on every side. As far as the enjoyments of social life are concerned, the Canterbury colonist may fairly challenge a comparison with the inhabitants of most country neighbourhoods at home. Dinner parties, it is true, there are few or none; but the young have from time to time their pic-nics and balls, to which the sheep-farmers flock in crowds from their stations; and a better-conducted, more gentleman-like set of men one could hardly find, I am sure, in any part of the world. In Canterbury, as every where else, I believe, in New Zealand, the character and feelings of all classes are essentially British; and likely to remain so: for the days are gone by when loyal and well-affected colonists were goaded into defection by the short-sighted policy of the home government. There is an air of manly independence too in the working man, which, if less agreeable at first, wears better, I believe, in the long run, than the politeness, too often hypocritical, of the labourer in the agricultural districts at home. Only enter the dwelling of the rough-

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est "old hand" among us, and you will meet with as much kindness, and if, from age or social position, you are entitled to it, as much genuine unbought respect, as you ever experienced in any country of Europe. There may be a sulky fellow now and then (as there might be at home) on whom civility and good nature are thrown away, but the general character of our colonists is the very reverse of disobliging or bearish. If the truth must be spoken, the least civil and least reasonable of our people are, generally speaking, the settlers of a month or two's standing, especially if they come from those parts of England where the labourer has been ground to the dust by low wages.

But even here there has been a marked improvement of late; for those who came out in the last two or three ships have, I am told (with a few discreditable exceptions), passed with unprecedented rapidity through the crisis of unreasonableness, false pride, and grumbling, which old settlers call "eating their tutu." 1 This happy change is attributable, I believe, in a great measure, to the fact that most of these persons are connexions of early settlers, who were able to explain to them, as soon as they landed, the real relative positions of the colonial capitalist and

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the colonial working man, each dependent on the other to a certain extent, but neither of them in a condition to oppress or deal unjustly with the other. They would point no doubt to themselves, as men, most of whom had risen into the rank of small capitalists, not by a sudden leap over the boundary fence which separates the poor man from the rich, but by steady, persevering industry; and would warn the new-comer against raising his expectations too high on the one hand, or being unreasonably disheartened on the other. Nothing can be pleasanter than watching the steps by which the steady, sober working man thus mounts into the position of a proprietor. As soon as may be after his arrival he either engages himself as shepherd, or bullock-driver, or hut-keeper at a station; or, if he prefers remaining near the towns, hires an acre or so of land, on which he builds a hut of sod or wattle and dab, makes an arrangement with a neighbour for ploughing the land, encloses it with a substantial post and rail or ditch and bank-fence, gets in his first crop when and how he can, and makes up his mind to go on steadily working for hire until he is in a condition to farm entirely on his own account. And here let me caution him not to be in too great a hurry to become independent. He may, it is true, obtain money on the security of his growing crops; but supposing an unfavourable season, which even in New Zealand will happen now and then, he is

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at once thrown back into the condition of a labourer, burdened besides in all probability with a lease, of which he cannot easily get rid, and with liabilities which the deficient harvest prevents his meeting.

Let him, therefore, proceed gradually and cautiously. In the second year he may prudently hire a few acres more, and perhaps exchange his rude hut for a decent cottage. By and by he hires a team of bullocks, which he turns to profit by ploughing his neighbour's land as well as his own; then he buys a bullock or two, and perhaps a dray, and after a time purchases a foal or two, as the foundation of a future team, it may be of a future stud. All this may be done without running into debt, if he will be content to work as a labourer until he has saved enough to start him fairly as an independent farmer. Meanwhile himself, his wife, and children are well clothed and well fed; and if he feels as he ought to feel, he finds daily and hourly occasions for thankfulness to the "Giver of all good things." Whether a man starts as an agricultural labourer, a mechanic, a sawyer, or a shepherd, or bullock-driver, it comes in the end almost to the same thing. If he is steady and sober, and it pleases God to give him health and strength, his progress is more rapid than one of our labourers at home could easily be made to comprehend. But unfortunately all our people are not sober, and this is the great bane of colonial life. The shepherd will

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come down to town for a few days for a "spree," as he calls it, and remain guzzling until he is turned out of the public-house, because he has no more money to spend: the sawyer, whose gains are incredibly large, will waste them in gambling and drinking what the landlord is pleased to call champagne: even the agricultural labourer will now and then "put an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains." But this sort of people are a minority (I would fain hope a very small minority) of our working population. Some even of them get on somehow or other; but only let wages fall, or sickness overtake them, and it is fearful to contemplate what their condition will be.

The most melancholy spectacle of all is to see among these "ne'er do weels," as one now and then does, men, who by birth and education ought to be gentlemen, not merely sunk to the condition of day-labourers, but even too enfeebled in body and mind, by a long course of intemperance, to be worth employing at any wages at all. One or two of these poor creatures have died, I am afraid, from actual privation, too helpless to work and too proud to make their distress known. If you are ever consulted on this subject, do, I beseech you, warn parents and guardians not to send out vicious or half-witted youths to the colony, in the hope of their "turning over a new leaf" out here. Now and then, where they have been placed in some steady farming, there are instances of

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their doing well; but to let them loose with no better guide than their own judgment, is to put them, I am afraid, in a fair way of ruining both body and soul.

You ask me what sort of people ought to emigrate. I believe there are three classes who may do so advantageously--the capitalist in money; the capitalist whose capital consists of the thews and sinews of three or four strong, grown-up sons, able and willing to work for him; and the capitalist whose stock in trade is a pair of strong arms and a contented spirit. Any one of these will do well; but a colony is no place for a poor gentleman, unless he can at once make up his mind to work his way upwards like any other non-capitalist. If he will really and honestly do this, there seems no reason why he should not get on as well as another; but for a season he must forget that he is any thing more than a working man. I would advise him, therefore, to count the cost well before he thinks of emigration. With the capitalist, as I said before, the case is very different. Supposing his capital to be in money, he will do well, I think (if he is a single man), to let a good portion of it remain in the Colonial bank for a few months, until he can look about him and decide which of the settlements he will make his home, and in what manner he will lay out his capital. A man with a family cannot, of course, do this quite so easily; but even he should not be too hasty either in investing his capital or deciding in

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what part of New Zealand he will pass his life. At very little cost, either of time or money, he may visit Wellington, Nelson, Canterbury, and Otago, even if he cannot conveniently pass any time in the northern settlements; or, if he first lands at Auckland, he might in the same way make himself acquainted with that settlement, as well as New Plymouth and the Ahuriri (Hawk's Bay). They are no real friends who try to attract people to one settlement by disparaging the others. The truth is, each has its advantages as well as its peculiarities, and no one but the emigrant himself can decide (and he only after personal inspection) which of them will suit him best.

The question has often been asked, whether an emigrant ought to bring out the whole of his capital in cash, or expend a portion of it in merchandise. Now, unless he is a thorough man of business, I would not advise him to bring out goods, in the hope of "turning a penny" by the sale of them in the colony. Colonial markets are easily glutted, and goods which a year ago realized enormous profits may now be little better than a drug. But this does not, of course, apply to articles brought out for the colonist's own use; though even here he will do well to remember that every hundred pounds of his capital will bring him at the lowest ten pounds a year in the colony, and more than double that interest if judiciously employed in agriculture or sheep-farming. For those who can afford

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to wait three or four years without any return for the capital invested, the purchase of waste land is often a profitable speculation. Rural land, which five years ago cost 3l., has, to my certain knowledge, been sold at 10l. per acre within the last twelvemonth, and that in a block of fifty acres. Small allotments would of course fetch a higher price.

Do not, however, let the prospect of any advantage induce you to part with any portion of your capital on the representations of others. Wait and judge for yourself; and then if you make a mistake, you will at least have the satisfaction of knowing that you have not acted precipitately. Now with regard to packing. If you have goods enough to fill a cart, I do not know that you can have any better packing-case; the only additional freightage will be the wheels and shafts, which will not be much. Your cart should be roomy, very strong, and made so as to be convertible into a bullock dray whenever required. Such an article would cost you 40l. out here, so you can easily calculate whether it would be worth while to buy one in England or not. Harness and saddlery you will get better and cheaper in England than here, but be sure that they are by the best makers and of the best quality. A low-priced saddle is utterly useless. With regard to clothing, provide yourself well and comfortably, but do not encumber yourself with fancy articles. The same rule you may apply to many other

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things, such as carpenter's tools, cutlery, &c; only remember whatever you buy, to get an experienced friend to choose it for you, and on no account to buy a box of tools, or suffer an outfitter to supply you with saddlery, ironmongery, or cutlery. You will get each article best and cheapest from the tradesman who deals especially in that article. Strong gardening gloves (at about 10d. a pair) will be exceedingly useful both for ladies and gentlemen. In choosing your clothing be sure to remember that this is not a tropical climate, and that at some seasons of the year it is necessary to guard against violent winds and rains, though the thermometer in winter is much higher here than in the mildest parts of England. Instead of hay or straw, stuff all your packing-cases with blankets, or some other useful article, and be sure to line them with zinc, not with tin. The former will always sell out here for at least as much as it cost you; the latter is unsaleable. Be very careful to see that your zinc lining is well soldered. If you can afford it, one of Edgington's tents is sure to be serviceable. The best mode of bringing out your money is through the Union Bank of Australia. You would save a trifle, I believe, by bringing gold, but not enough to compensate for the trouble it will give you in landing, &c. With regard to the voyage you will find ample directions in the handbooks. It is almost invariably a safe one; but in the month of September

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the equinoctial gales are very boisterous in this hemisphere, particularly along the fortieth parallel of south latitude, which I have heard old sailors call "the roaring forties." Unless therefore you have some particular reason for doing otherwise, I would advise you not to run the risk of encountering them. I believe the high latitudes are much less subject to heavy gales of wind; and a quicker passage is also generally made by what is called "the great circle sailing;" but then, on the other hand, you have fogs and excessive cold to encounter, and unless your ship is well warmed with stoves, and the arrangements are altogether on a liberal scale, you will probably have but an uncomfortable time of it. Perhaps the best way of securing reasonable comforts is for the cuddy passengers to elect a committee for the purpose of enforcing strict attention on the part of the stewards, &c to the rules laid down by the owners of the ship, as well as of the government regulations. Some captains will make it their business and pleasure to see that their passengers are well treated, but this is not always the case; and if the cooks and stewards once suspect that neither captain nor passengers are inclined to call them to a very strict account, they will not in general be very scrupulous about defrauding the cuddy table. The committee should at once determine to show a bold front on the slightest appearance of aggression, from whatever quarter it

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may proceed, and then all will go well. The intermediate and steerage passengers will have less difficulty in protecting themselves, their rations being served out uncooked. Much has been written about the best mode of employing one's time on shipboard. A long voyage is a dull affair at the best, but its tedium may be in some measure beguiled by music, reading, chess, backgammon, &c. Netting would be a pleasant employment; and large nets would be useful here for many purposes, such, for instance, as keeping together the load on a pack-saddle, which often causes great annoyance to travellers by breaking adrift. When people of different tastes and dispositions are shut up together for nearly four months, there must necessarily be frequent and severe trials of patience. But there need be no quarrelling, if they would resolve to abstain from discussions on religious and political questions, to run up no hasty friendships, never to listen to the tittle-tattle of servants, steerage passengers, or tale-bearers of any description; and above all to bear steadily in mind the great Christian doctrine, that "we are every one members one of another," and in accordance with that precept would be ready on all occasions to extend to their fellow-passengers that indulgence of which they are sure some time or other to stand in need themselves.