A NOVEL FROM AUSTRALIA.*
SiNcE Geoffrey Hondo, the best achievement of its writer, and the portions of The Hillyars and the Burtons, by the same author, which dealt with Colonial life, no fiction of any note, pro- fessing to reproduce the physical and social characteristic features of life in Australia, has been given to English readers. Geoffrey Handyn itself was written by an Englishman who was only a visitor to the scenes which that clever work described with capti- vating vividness, and, as many Australians have assured us, with great accuracy of local colouring and raciness of the soil. Mr. Marcus Clarke, though well known as a writer of capital short stories, in which he combines the history of the Australian Colonies with very amusing characters and incidents, has not, to our know- ledge, written a novel. It was, therefore, with considerable curiosity that we observed the announcement of Mysie's Pardon as a novel from Australia ; and read the following passages, from a letter written by the author, at Melbourne, to a friend in London, and now published as a preface, in which the writer comments upon the misapprehensions which exist in England regarding Colonial social life :— " While, on the ono hand, the greater number of home-abiding folks regard us as a society of rough gold-diggers, judiciously tempered with ferocious bushrangers; others, scarcely bettor informed—though, I believe, very anxious for information—have to rely for their knowledge of our social life upon the superficial, and often ludicrously inexact representations of rapid writers, who, after a scurry through the Colonies, feel themselves qualified to instruct their readers in everything pertain-
ing to those distant lands My earnest endeavour has boon to present a perfectly accurate picture of social life in the colony of Vic- toria in one or two of its phases I have carefully avoided any reference to Colonial polities, or other subjects of merely local concern, which, however interesting they may be to those immediately affected by thorn, would only bore and confuse those for whom the book was originally intended."
The novel from Australia is clever and interesting, though it is probably more attractive to us through its facts than its fiction. The story is ably constructed, and all the characters are well sustained, while the author may fairly claim the credit of origiaality:of design. We do not think a cross-grained old- maid has ever before been the heroine of a novel, 'Loth titularly and actually, as Mysie is in this, for she is far more interesting than the pretty half-sister whom she oppresses through a consider- able portion of her life, only to become her most devoted slave for the rest of it. If Mr. Hay's " photographs " of Victorian homes be as accurate in detail and as characteristic in their surroundings as his pictures of the Scottish home of John Raeburn and his sister Mysie, his fellow-colonists will be able to add their mood of praise to that which we are glad to bestow upon his delineation of Greenhaugh, near St. Andrews, whence the emigrants come. There are many touches in these chapters which remind us of Galt, by their subtle, seemingly careless, but really studied suggestions of character, local pecu- liarities, and the small, distinct, bitter cliques into which Scotch society breaks itself up when kirk questions are in the social ascendant. Like a streak of moonlight on the sea is the sketch of Mrs. Raeburn, the mother of John and Mysie, the object of their deep, unfaltering devotion, for whose dear sake the new home in the distant land is another Greenhaugh, and the tradition lives and descends. We only see her at the close of her life, weary yet not complaining, but we see perfectly to what a noble type of Scottish matronbood she belonged. In Mysie these is a curious strain of deep and tender feeling mingling with her shrewishness, her rudeness, and her domineering. Her hatred towards her young half-sister is a part of her love for her mother, and of the undying resent- ment with which her father's second marriage filled her. In the vehemence of Mysie, her odd broad dialect, and her pathetic consciousness that she is alienating the brother to whom she is devoted by her unreasonable dislike to the little sister whom he loves and protects, the author draws a striking character, to which
• Myste's Pardon. By James W. Hay. London and Edinburgh : Blackwood and Sons.
the surroundings of Calonial life, the farm, the servants, the quaint society, the emulative hospitality, and the reproduction of the far-away home, form a fitting framework. There is a good deal too much of the servants ; Irish Norah and Tom Blarnigan are very amusing at first, but we tire of them ; and of Babbie's perpetual breaking of cups and platters, especially as it is evident that 3lysie Raeburn would have packed Babbie off after the first dozen or so,—she would never have allowed her to go on steadily breaking through all her "sets."
Of the pretty, naturally-told love-story, and the circumstances which bring about Mysie's repentance, so that the harshly treated young sister becomes the idol of the stern woman's life, it is only necessary to say that they are very well worked out, and that they have attractive freshness and unusualness about them. The construction of the story is not at all indicative of an unpractised hand, and careful management is displayed in making the local scenes sufficiently distinct and elaborate to be satisfactorily explanatory to the English reader, without rendering them a bore to habitues. Just as there are two distinct kinds of pleasure to be got out of a painted landscape,—one, the recognition of an old acquaintance, the other, the formation of a new, so, we imagine, Australian readers will be as much pleased with and interested in this book as we are ; in its vigorous descriptions of mining life and adventure, and its 'clever social pictures. The very broad Scotch spoken by the Raeburn family rather injures the effect of the family picture at Greenhangh ; it is difficult to keep in mind that we are not in Scotland, that Mysie is not domineering over a Perthshire village, that Maggie is not a heather belle, and Mr. Francis Garden not a wooer from the " toon" (except that he arrives on the scene on Sunday, which disturbs the illusion). It is quite a timely reminder when John Raeburn and Mysie dis- pute about the expediency of employing Chinese labourers upon the farm, and when incidental remarks suggest the topsy-turvyness of the seasons.
Outside the domestic story, into which several very pretty episodes are woven, there is, however, a history of speculation, intrigue (in the financial sense) and swindling, whose details do indeed seem to be exaggerated in their recklessness and audacity ; but the author, alluding to them in his preface, assures the reader that reference to any file of Melbourne papers for the year 1865 will convince him that the truth has not been exceeded. The achievement of the accomplices, Netherwood and Dodder, is one of those cleverly-complicated villanies which are undeniably pleasant reading, though it would be more agreeable to believe them purely imaginary. The intricacies of the thieving scheme of these worthy young practitioners are prefaced by a description of the " Corner " in Ballarat, a place as remarkable in its way as the Exchange in London, or the Bourse in Paris, which is a fair sample of Mr. Hay's lively and pleasant style. There all who have a taste for gambling, and who prefer mining in their neigh- bours' pockets to digging in the earth, naturally resort, and block up the pathway during all the hours of the day. When specula- tion is rife, a stranger might as well attempt to walk through a stone wall as through that crowd :—
"Here and there some man is darting through the mass, note-book in hand, speaking here, asking there, and causing those whom he addresses to make corresponding entries in their note-books. But apart from this, the mass appears to the outsider to be an assemblage of lounging, un- concerned smokers, for they seem all to smoke without intermission, never letting their cigars or pipes go out, even in the excitement of a bargain. Up from the throng there rises an indistinct murmur,—the hum of many voices ; and if you look closely into the crowd, you will soon see that the indifference is rather apparent than real. Here the eager, bloodshot eye, there the quivering lip, yonder the trembling fingers as they try to count the flimsy scrip ! Look at that young man speaking to the digger. You would suppose from his spotless suit of black and his pale face that he is an Evangelical clergyman giving good advice to a parishioner, until each produces his note-book. That young man is one of the coolest speculators there, and has been concerned in one or two transactions which very nearly brought him into collision with the law,—very nearly, but not quite. His dexterity is wonderful. The digger was, a few weeks ago, working for wages in one of the large mines, the stock of which went up in the market with a rush a few days after he had left it ; but before that time he had secured a large quantity of its till then useless scrip. In some places it would ho said that ho had got hold of his information by dishonourable means ; but here, if anywhere, the end crowns the work. But why multiply examples ? They do say that the hawks whose beaks are too sharp, and talons too grasping, for the 'Beehive,' or 'Under the Verandah'—those being the places where sharebrokers congregate in Bendigo and Melbourne respectively—so that they find their occupation gone in those milder fields, when they come to try their talents at the Corner, discover that thoy are the merest sucking-doves, and not till they have been stripped to their last feather, do they begin to appreciate the real glories of the place."
Though the speculators at the " Corner " smoke incessantly, they do not drink at all so much as appearances indicate. Though an im- mense business is continually being done at the bars of the numerous hotels in close proximity to the" Corner," Mr. Hay declares that a drunken man is rarely to be seen. "If you notice the groups at the bars, you will perceive that when the barmaid hands the glasses and the decanters across the counter, her customers will pour out about a thimbleful." It is more a form of business to clench a bargain than anything else. The fact is, they could not- afford to get drunk ; to do so would interfere with that clearness of brain which is so necessary for this, as for all other forms of gambling. Mr. Hay describes at some length, and with much vivid- ness, the fierce excitement of the scene, the paramount value of time, which cannot be spared for anything beyond the bare neces- saries of business. Written agreements are unheard of, bargains are recorded like bets, and a dispute is of rare occurrence. Here is
a graphic sketch of the rough and ready administration of affairs at the "Corner ":- "It does occasionally happen that some one, finding he has madea bad bargain, tries to repudiate it. In this case, the aggrieved jobber does not put the machinery of the law in operation ; time is too precious to be wasted in attendance at courts, and besides, the result would- be doubtful, as tlere would be only his oath against that of the other, so he proceeds to thrash him, and the crowd forego their gambling for a few minutes to make a ring and see fair-play. After receiving his punishment, the victim finds it necessary to retire from business for a few days, as he is looked upon in much the same light as a welcher ' is regarded on a racecourse, and finds a difficulty in getting any one to deal with him. So he has his revenge by summoning his assailant to the police-court, more for the purpose of making him lose half a day by his attendance there than for any other reason. If, while receiving his flagellation, he has noticed any of his acquaiatances particularly enjoy- ing his sufferings, he has his revenge upon them also by summoning them as witnesses. Generally, the person summoned—unless he has some object in allowing the evidence to be heard, such as further brand- ing the man who has not sufficient honour to be bound by the rules of the'Corner'—pleads guilty, and gaily pays the five or ten pounds' fine, then hurries back to business."
The order of the narrative varies agreeably between the busy scenes of gold-mining and pastoral pictures of sheep-farming life. The author's touch is light and telling, and when the cata- strophe of the book comes—the wreck of the good ship City of Dunedin—he exhibits quite uncommon ability, depicting with genuine power and pathos the remorseful struggle of Myaie Raeburn with her own conscience and her own heart.
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