CHAPTER SEVEN
THE MIGRATION OF THE PEOPLES
II: AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND
AUSTRALIA HAS A LONG HISTORY IN THE REALMS OF
HUMAN imagination. From the days of Herodotus mankind has had its
legends of distant lands, seen for a moment on the horizon,
inhabited by strange monsters and rich with the fabulous wealth of
Solomon’s Ophir and Tarshish. The wonder-loving age of the
sixteenth century delighted in such tales, and men who made the
long voyage to the East round the Cape of Good Hope talked
mysteriously of Marco Polo’s Malaiur and Locach and the islands of
King Solomon. How the ships of the King of Israel in the tenth
century before Christ could have reached the South Pacific Ocean is
beyond conjecture. But the geographers and navigators of the
Renaissance conceived themselves to be inspired by Biblical
example. The author of the Declaration of the Indies,
presented to Henry VIII, prophesied that if the voyagers to the New
World pressed on into the Pacific “there may be discovered divers
new lands and kingdoms . . . the richest lands and islands of the
world, of gold, precious stones, balms, spices, and other things
that we here esteem most, which come out of strange countries.” In
1526 Spaniards had dispatched Sebastian Cabot to search for Ophir
and Tarshish by way of Magellan’s Strait. He never reached the
Pacific, but the legend persisted, and in the sixteenth-century
maps of the Dieppe cartographers a great Southern continent, “Java
la Grande,” is marked in the Pacific. In 1568 Alvaro de Mendaña and
Pedro Sarmienta de Gamboa discovered what they called the Solomon
Islands. The name they gave them shows the strength of the belief.
Yet the sixteenth century had ended before landfall was made in
Australia by Europeans, and the men who found it were hard-headed,
unromantic Dutch traders.
Their voyages to Java and Sumatra brought the Dutch
close to the northern shores of the newest continent, but despite
Tasman’s great expedition in 1642 they avoided it when they could.
They had no intention of settling there, and they knew it as an
evil coast on which their vessels crossing the Indian Ocean were
too often driven by a lee wind. The extent of the continent was not
accurately known until the middle of the eighteenth century, when
Captain James Cook made three voyages between 1768 and 1779, in
which he circumnavigated New Zealand, sailed inside the Australian
Barrier Reef, sighted the great Antarctic icefields, discovered the
Friendly Islands, the New Hebrides, New Caledonia, and Hawaii, and
charted the eastern coastline of Australia. Cook was a surveyor
trained in the Royal Navy. His reports were official, accurate, and
detailed. His news reached Britain at a timely moment. English
convicts had long been transported to America, but since the War of
Independence the Government had nowhere to send them and many were
now dying of disease in the hulks and gaols of London. Why not send
the prisoners to the new continent? The younger Pitt’s
administration shrank from colonial ventures after the disasters in
North America, but delay was deemed impossible, and in January 1788
717 convicts were anchored in Botany Bay. A hundred and
ninety-seven were women. The Bay had been so named by Sir Joseph
Banks, a distinguished amateur of science, who accompanied Cook on
one of his voyages. There was not much botany about it now. The
convicts were soon moved a few miles north to Port Jackson, within
the magnificent expanse of Sydney Harbour. Famine crouched above
the settlement, and for long the colony could not supply all its
own food. Without training, capital, or the desire to work, the
forgers and thieves, poachers and Irish rebels, criminals and
political exiles, had neither the will not the ability to fit
themselves to the new land. “The convict barracks of New South
Wales,” wrote an Australian Governor, “remind me of the monasteries
of Spain. They contain a population of consumers who produce
nothing.” The region had been named by Captain Cook after South
Wales. He thought he had detected a resemblance in coastline. But
hard-working Wales and its antipodean namesake had very little else
in common at the time.
There were of course a few free settlers from the
first, but the full migratory wave did not reach Australia till the
1820’s. Even the future Commonwealth’s name was not yet determined.
“New Holland” and other titles were bestowed upon it in official
documents. Driven by the post-war distress in Great Britain and
attracted by the discovery of rich pasture in the hinterland of New
South Wales, English-speaking emigrants began to trickle into the
empty sub-continent and rapidly transformed the character and life
of the early communities. The population changed from about fifteen
thousand convicts and twenty-one thousand free settlers in 1828 to
twenty-seven thousand convicts and over a hundred thousand free
settlers in 1841. Free men soon demanded, and got, free government.
Transportation to New South Wales was finally abolished in 1840,
and two years later a Legislative Council was set up, most of whose
members were elected by popular vote.
Wool founded the prosperity of the country, and in
time ousted Spanish and German supplies from the world’s principal
markets. In 1797 a retired Army officer, John MacArthur, had
obtained a few merino sheep from the Cape of Good Hope, and his
breeding experiments in due course established the famous
Australian flocks and changed the whole economy of the continent.
The turning-point had been the discovery of the Bathurst Plains,
beyond the Blue Mountains. Here and to the south of Sydney, and on
the Darling Downs to the north, were great sheep-runs, mile after
mile of lonely grazing land, open, grassy downs, inhabited only by
a few shepherds and thousands upon thousands of silent, soft-footed
sheep moving ever farther into the interior. The flocks multiplied
swiftly: by 1850 there were more than sixteen million sheep in
Australia. This was over sixteen times more sheep than there were
men and women. The wool trade for the year was worth nearly two
million pounds in sterling.
The British Government however distrusted
sheep-farming. Not only did it claim that all land under British
rule was Crown property, but the Colonial Office was much
influenced by Gibbon Wakefield’s advocacy of systematic and
concentrated colonisation. Wakefield maintained that settlement,
wherever it took place, should be controlled and planned, and that
to allow individuals to spread haphazard into the interior would
hinder administration and reduce the value of the land already
settled. His theories had much to commend them, but were quite
unsuited to Australia. A series of Land Acts, designed to make land
more difficult to obtain by enforcing a minimum price, soon broke
down. “Squatters,” who needed thousands of acres for their
sheep-runs and neither could nor would pay a pound, or even five
shillings, for their grazing, struck out into the emptiness and
took what they wanted, arguing with force that the land belonged to
the people of the colony and that they should be given every
facility to occupy it. The Colonial Office surrendered to the
pressure of events. The squatters were there to stay, and soon
became the most important section of the community. The British
Government first compromised by instituting licences which gave
them some legal standing, and in 1847 authorised the granting of
pastoral leases for a term of years, at the end of which the
squatter was to have the first right to purchase the land at its
unimproved value.

Long before 1850 the settlement of other parts of
Australia had begun. The first to be made from the mother-colony of
Port Jackson was in the island of Tasmania, or Van Diemen’s Land as
it was then called; at Hobart in 1804; and two years later at
Launceston. Like New South Wales, Tasmania at first encountered
many difficulties. The penal settlements at Macquarie Harbour and
Port Arthur had evil reputations; rule was by terror and the
labour-gang, and many convicts escaped and lived by bushranging,
attacking lonely houses at night, and raiding stock-farms when the
men were away. Unlike the rest of Australia, where the aboriginal
inhabitants, few in number, scattered over vast areas, and, very
primitive, scarcely resisted the white settlers, Tasmania had
aborigines who were fairly numerous and comparatively advanced.
Their defeat was inevitable; their end was tragic. The Black Drive
of 1830 was a failure. The entire forces of the colony, organised
at a cost of £30,000, attempted in vain to pen the natives in a
reserve. But the Tasmanian tribes were extinct by the beginning of
the twentieth century.
Tasmania developed in much the same way as New
South Wales, and had become a separate colony in 1825. Prosperity
came from wool and whaling, and brought a solid upsurge in
population. In 1820 there were 6,500 settlers, mostly convicts;
twenty years later the population numbered 68,000 and was mostly
free. An elected Legislative Council was granted in 1850, and the
abolition of transportation three years later placed Tasmania on an
equal footing with New South Wales, and enabled her to participate
in the general grant of responsible government.
From Tasmania a settlement was made at Port Phillip
in 1835. At first it was administered by New South Wales, but the
settlers quickly demanded independence, and in 1848 they withdrew
all other candidates for the Legislative Council and elected Earl
Grey, Secretary of State for the Colonies, as “Member for
Melbourne.” Grey was the son of the Earl Grey of the Reform Bill.
The move succeeded: within a few months the Colonial Office agreed
to the separation, and in 1851 the new colony of Victoria, complete
with representative institutions, was established, with its capital
at Melbourne. The young Queen gave her name to this new offshoot of
the English-speaking peoples. Its capital commemorates the Whig
Prime Minister whom she had found to be the most agreeable of her
advisers, and who was now no more.
The third offspring of New South Wales was
Queensland. It grew up round the town of Brisbane, but developed
more slowly and did not become a separate colony until 1859. By
then two other settlements had arisen on the Australian coasts,
both independently of New South Wales and the other colonies. In
1834 a body known as “the Colonisation Commissioners for South
Australia” had been set up in London, and two years later the first
settlers landed near Adelaide. The city was named after William
IV’s Queen. South Australia was never a convict settlement. It was
organised by a group of men under the influence of Gibbon
Wakefield, whose elaborate theories were now put into practice. On
the whole they succeeded, though a system of dual control by which
responsibility was divided between the Government and the
Colonisation, or Land, Commissioners gave so much trouble that the
Commissioners were abolished in 1842. Within seven years the colony
numbered 52,000 inhabitants, and had been substantially enriched by
the discovery of copper deposits. Along with the eastern colonies,
it was presently granted representative institutions.
The other colony, Western Australia, had a very
different history. Founded in 1829, it nearly died at birth. With
much less fertile soil than the eastern colonies and separated from
them by vast and uninhabitable desert, it suffered greatly from
lack of labour. Convicts, which the other colonies deemed an
obstacle to progress, seemed the only solution, and the British
Government, once again encumbered with prisoners, eagerly accepted
an invitation to send some out to Perth. In 1849 a penal settlement
was established, with much money to finance it. Thus resuscitated,
the population trebled within the next ten years, but Western
Australia did not obtain representative institutions until 1870,
after the convict settlement had been abolished, nor full
self-government till 1890.

In 1848 gold had been discovered in California,
and among the prospectors who crossed the Pacific to try their luck
was a certain Edward Hargraves. A few months of digging brought him
small success, but he noticed that the gold-bearing rocks of
California resembled those near Bathurst, in New South Wales. He
returned to Australia early in 1851 to test his theory. The first
pans of earth proved him right. News of the discovery leaked out,
and within a few weeks the Australian Gold Rush had begun.
The gold fever swept the eastern colonies. The
whole of Australia seemed to be on the move, marching out to
Bathurst, Ballarat, or Bendigo, with picks and shovels on their
shoulders, pots and basins round their waists, an excited, feverish
crowd, pouring into mining towns that had sprung up overnight,
fully equipped with gambling saloons, bars, and brothels. The
Victorian goldfields soon had a population of nearly 100,000. Not
all were “diggers,” as the miners came to be called, and the
hotel-keepers, store-keepers, prostitutes, and other toilers
usually fared best. A penniless lollipop-seller made £6,000 a year
by opening a public-house on the road to Ballarat. When the miners
flocked back to Melbourne or Sydney their money vanished in crazy
extravagance and ostentation. Horses were shod with golden shoes,
men lit their pipes with banknotes, so the stories ran, and a
bridal party attended a wedding in bright pink velvet. When
fortunes could be made and lost overnight there seemed no point in
steady employment. Squatters lost their shepherds, business houses
their clerks, ships their crews. Early in 1852 there were only two
policemen left in Melbourne; more than fifty had gone off to the
goldfields. Wages doubled and trebled; prices rose fantastically,
and the values of land changed with bewildering rapidity. The other
colonies, including New Zealand, lost great numbers of men to the
goldfields. In a single year 95,000 immigrants entered Victoria; in
five months 4,000 men out of a total population, including women
and children, of 50,000 left Tasmania for Victoria.
Keeping the peace, settling disputed claims,
providing transport, housing, and enough food to stop famine was a
grievous burden for the new administration at Melbourne, most of
whose staff had also deserted to the goldfields. For some time
there were no more than forty-four soldiers in the whole of
Victoria, and in 1853 fifty policemen had to be sent out from
London. The diggers probably enjoyed the turbulence they created in
the mining towns, but they had a serious grievance against the
Government. As with the squatters, the Crown claimed ownership of
the land, and demanded a licence fee. The fee was fiercely resented
and very difficult to collect, and after many threats the diggers
exploded into violence.
On October 6, 1854, a digger was killed in a fight
near the Eureka Hotel in Ballarat. The hotel-keeper, Bentley, his
wife, and a man named Farrell were accused, but acquitted in spite
of the evidence. Ten days later the diggers burned down the hotel,
and four of their leaders were arrested. The diggers were now in
dangerous mood. They formed the Ballarat Reform League, and issued
a political programme which demanded the abolition of licence fees
and contained four of the six points of the English Chartists. On
November 30 a search for unlicensed miners caused a riot. Led by
one Peter Lalor, the diggers began to drill and build a stockade.
The local military commander, Captain Thomas, acted with speed and
wisdom. He determined to attack before the movement spread. With
three hundred men, mainly soldiers, he carried the stockade with a
bayonet charge, killing thirty rebels and capturing over a hundred
and twenty.
Thus ended what might have become a serious
rebellion. Licence fees were soon afterwards abolished and replaced
by an export duty on gold. The miners were given the franchise and
peace was restored. In the next few years independent diggers were
replaced by mining companies, which alone had the resources to
carry on underground work. Much the same happened in New South
Wales, the only other colony where gold was discovered at this
time. Between 1851 and 1861 £124,000,000 worth of it was raised. A
more permanent enrichment was the increase in Australian
population, which now rose to over a million.
Wool and agriculture at first were deeply smitten
by the rush for gold, and squatters who lost their shepherds cursed
its discovery. But Australia gained in the end. The squatter
prospered by the establishment of better roads and more railways.
Food was needed, and over a million acres were soon under
cultivation. The economy of the country, hitherto far too dependent
on wool, thus achieved a balance.
The political repercussions were far-reaching. The
increase of population, trade, and revenue made it imperative to
reform the makeshift constitutions of 1850, and after long
discussion in the colonies a number of schemes were laid before the
Colonial Office and approved by the home Government. Between 1855
and 1859 two-chamber Parliaments, elected by popular vote and with
Ministers responsible to the Lower House, were introduced in all
the antipodean states except Western Australia, where, as already
related, self-government came later.
Great changes were still to unroll, and Australia
as we now know it was born in 1901 by the association of the
colonies in a Commonwealth, with a new capital at Canberra.
Federation came late and slowly to the southern continent, for the
lively, various, widely separated settlements cherished their own
self-rule. No threat or pressure had yet arisen from Asia to the
north which would generate an overriding sense of unity. This was
to come. Even to-day most of the Australian population dwells in
the settlements founded in the nineteenth century. The heart of the
country, over a million square miles in extent, has attracted
delvers after metals and ranchers of cattle, but it remains largely
uninhabited. The silence of the bush and the loneliness of the
desert are only disturbed by the passing of some transcontinental
express, the whirr of a boomerang, or the drone of a pilotless
missile.

Twelve hundred miles to the east of Australia lie
the islands of New Zealand. Here, long before they were discovered
by Europeans, a Polynesian warrior race, the Maoris, had sailed
across the Pacific from the north-east and established a
civilisation notable for the brilliance of its art and the strength
of its military system. When Captain Cook visited them towards the
end of the eighteenth century he judged that they numbered about a
hundred thousand. This was probably an overestimate, but here
nevertheless was a first formidable obstacle to European
colonisation, a cultured people long in possession of the land,
independent in spirit and skilled in warfare. Soon after Cook’s
discovery a small English community gained a footing in the Bay of
Islands in the far north, but they were mostly whalers and sealers,
shipwrecked mariners, and a few escaped convicts from Australia,
enduring a lonely, precarious, and somewhat disreputable existence.
They were tolerated by the Maori chiefs, whom they supplied with
firearms. They constituted no great threat to Maori life or lands.
Resistance to English colonisation was fortified by the arrival of
Christian missionaries. In 1814 the Reverend Samuel Marsden set up
a mission station in this same Bay of Islands. He was joined by
other clerics, and Christianity quickly gained a large ascendancy
over the Maoris, many of whom became proselytisers. The
missionaries struggled to defeat the power of the traders, and for
many years they opposed, in the interests of the Maoris, all
schemes for admitting English immigrants. For a time they
succeeded, and the Australian colonies had been established for
half a century before the first official English settlement was
founded. A move to colonise the islands had nevertheless long been
afoot in London, impelled by a group of men around Gibbon
Wakefield, who had already so markedly influenced the future of
Canada and Australia. Wakefield and his friends had founded a New
Zealand Association, of which Lord Durham was a member. But the
Government was hostile. The missionaries denounced the project as
disastrous to the natives, and the Colonial Office refused to
sanction its plans.
Wakefield however was resolute, and in 1838 his
Association formed a private joint-stock company for the
colonisation of New Zealand, and a year later dispatched an
expedition under his younger brother. Over a thousand settlers went
with them, and they founded the site of Wellington in the North
Island. News that France was contemplating the annexation of New
Zealand compelled the British Government to act. Instead of
sanctioning Wakefield’s expedition they sent out a man-of-war,
under the command of Captain Hobson, to treat with the Maoris for
the recognition of British sovereignty. In February 1840 Hobson
concluded the Treaty of Waitangi with the Maori chiefs. By this the
Maoris ceded to Great Britain all the rights and powers of
sovereignty in return for confirmation in “the full and exclusive
possession of their lands and estates.”
Then, but not till then, the company received
official recognition. Two powers were thus established, the
Governor at Auckland at the top of the North Island, which Hobson
had chosen as the capital, and the company at Wellington. They
championed different interests and opposing policies. The company
wanted land, as much and as soon as possible. The treaty and the
Colonial Office said it belonged to the Maoris. The two authorities
struggled and bickered throughout the forties. The treaty was
bitterly denounced by the company’s settlers, and in 1843 Joseph
Somes, Governor of the company, wrote to the Colonial Secretary:
“We have always had very serious doubts whether the Treaty of
Waitangi, made with naked savages by a consul invested with no
plenipotentiary powers, without ratification by the Crown, could be
treated by lawyers as anything but a praiseworthy device for
amusing and pacifying savages for the moment.” The “naked savages”
however were not to be caught. The treaty with Hobson clearly
distinguished between the shadow of sovereignty, which they
surrendered, and the substance of property, which they retained.
The land was their life-blood. “By woman and land are men lost” ran
the Maori proverb, and the older chiefs realised that if they lost
their land their tribal life would be extinguished. The ingenuity
of their laws exasperated settlers who had innocently purchased
land for hard cash and found themselves denied possession because
the tribe’s inalienable rights over the soil were unaffected by
private bargains. Nevertheless by 1859 the settlers had occupied
seven million acres in the North Island and over thirty-two million
acres in the South, where the Maoris were fewer.
The result was the Maori wars, a series of
intermittent local conflicts lasting from 1843 to 1869. The scene
of the fighting moved from place to place. By the middle of the
sixties twenty thousand troops were engaged. The fanatical cult of
the Hauhans and the skill of Te Kooti, a guerrilla leader of
genius, taxed all the resources of the colony. The Maoris fought
magnificently, and the admiration of the Regular officers for their
opponents sharpened their dislike of the settlers. But by 1869 the
force of the movement was spent and the risings were defeated.
Thereafter the enlightened policy of Sir Donald MacLean, the
Minister for Native Affairs, produced a great improvement. The
settlers gained some security of tenure. The Maoris realised that
the British had come to stay. A series of Native Land Acts, passed
in the sixties, protected them against extermination; in 1867 they
secured direct representation in the New Zealand legislature, and
after declining to 37,000 souls in 1871 by the 1951 census they
numbered nearly 100,000.
Despite these years of strife the colony continued
to expand. Wakefield, anxious to overcome the opposition of the
missionaries, ingeniously persuaded both the Free Church of
Scotland and the Church of England to co-operate in establishing
two new settlements. These, at Otago and Canterbury, were
remarkable applications of his theories. Both were in the South
Island, and from 1860 until 1906 it was the South Island,
prosperous and comparatively immune from the Maori wars, which
contained most of the population. By 1868 the British numbered only
about a quarter of a million; twelve years later there were nearly
twice as many.
Peace brought prosperity. Great flocks of sheep
were reared on the famous Canterbury Plains of the South Island,
and a native Corriedale cross-breed was evolved. In the
eighteen-sixties gold was found in Otago and Canterbury and there
was a temporary boom. The Australian gold discoveries and the swift
rise in prices in Melbourne and Sydney gave agriculture a flying
start. Despite a depression in the eighties, the prosperity of New
Zealand has continued to grow ever since. The invention of the
refrigerator enabled the colony to compete with European and
English producers thirteen thousand miles away. The co-operative
movement, especially in dairy-farming, helped small farmers with
little capital to build up an industry of remarkable magnitude, and
the Dominion of New Zealand soon possessed the highest external
trade in proportion to its numbers of any nation in the
world.

New Zealand’s political development was no less
rapid. Founded in the days of the Durham Report and the first
experiments with colonial self-government in Canada, she obtained
by the Constitution Act of 1852 a broad measure of independence.
Her problems did not, as in the older colonies, centre on the
demand for responsible government, but on relations between the
central and provincial administrations. Inland travel was so
difficult that until late in the nineteenth century the colony
remained a number of small, scattered settlements, all differing in
the circumstances of their foundation and the character of their
interests. This was recognised in the Constitution Act, which set
up a number of provincial councils on a democratic basis, each to a
considerable extent independent of the General Assembly.
Conflict between the provincial assemblies and the
central administration troubled New Zealand politics for twenty
years. Some provinces were wealthy, others less so. Otago and
Canterbury, stimulated by the discovery of gold, became rich and
prosperous, while the settlers in the North Island, harassed by the
Maori wars, grew more and more impoverished. At one time Otago and
Canterbury wanted to secede. Reform came in 1875, when the
constitution was modified, the provinces were abolished, local
administration was placed in the hands of county councils, and the
powers of the central Government were greatly increased. Thus, on a
smaller scale, New Zealand faced and mastered all the problems of
federal government thirty years before Australia. Indeed her
political vitality is no less astonishing than her economic vigour.
The tradition and prejudices of the past weighed less heavily than
in the older countries. Many of the reforms introduced into Great
Britain by the Liberal Government of 1906, and then regarded as
extreme innovations, had already been accepted by New Zealand.
Industrial arbitration, old-age pensions, factory legislation,
State insurance and medical service, housing Acts, all achieved
between 1890 and the outbreak of the First World War, and State
support for co-operative production, testified to the survival and
fertility, even in the remote and unfamiliar islands of the
Pacific, of the British political genius.