From A Settler's Wife (Auckland, 1850-52)

By Frances Southwell [Shayle George], from Dickens, Charles (ed.), Household Words, London, 6 March 1852.


At last, after a weary voyage of four months and fourteen days, the welcome sight of land repaid us for all our troubles. We reached Auckland, our destined home, the seat of Government, and the capital of New Zealand, on the l7th December [1850, on the Sir Edward Paget].

Having had contrary winds almost from the North Cape, and making way only by what the sailors call a "long leg and a short one," a fair wind now sprang up within a mile of the harbour. It was early morning, and the commencement of a day such as only shines upon the South Seas. We sailed into a capacious basin, indented with numerous tiny bays. The forelands jutting out on these were clothed down to the water's edge with verdure. On five of the bays, its wooden houses stretching up gentle hills, the town of Auckland is seated. Behind it rise Mount Eden and Mount Albert, and in front, on the north shore, are Mounts Victoria and Rangitoto. Excellently situated, between two seas, possessing a magnificent harbour, one could already descry in its scarcely defined streets, in its half-erected buildings, ever in progress, the childhood of one of those princely commercial cities whose names reach to the end of the earth. Even as we entered, the harbour was studded with ships, American whalers, brigantines from California, (with which country New Zealand carries on a prosperous and increasing trade), merchantmen from Sydney and Hobart Town, schooners from the south, several English vessels with the innumerable coasters, studded the unruffled waters, which, twenty years ago, were almost unknown to Europeans. Several shore boats came out to meet us, gaily decorated with flags in their sterns.

We had, on landing, but a damp reception. There is no wharf, nothing but a jetty, thrown out by one of the principal hotels. It was low water, and we could not land at this, so we were obliged to disembark at a reef, in which adventure I nearly took seisin of my new country, as William the Norman did of England, by measuring my length upon it. Bands of Sappers and Miners are now driving piles for a wharf, and emigrants. Going to one of the inns, we had breakfast of pork chops, coffee, and other delicacies, for eighteen-pence each.

We then sailed forth, and hired a small house, containing three rooms, at five shillings a-week, to be paid, the landlady emphatically said, "every Saturday night." The lodgings were furnished, and our first meal was a farce, at which, although we were the actors in it, we laughed heartily. Our tea equipage consisted of an inverted tub, with a towel over the bottom, for a table, a couple of basins, and a "hook-pot," with plenty of new bread and fresh butter; the unimaginable deliciousness of which, none but long sea-voyagers wot of. A rocking-chair fell to my lot, and a crazy box supported my spouse; yet I doubt it ever tea were more thoroughly enjoyed than ours was that night.

In a few days, when we became a little more settled, my husband was out from morning to night, walking the country in search of land; for although he is an attorney and has now good hopes of a moderate practice here, we thought it advisable, as we were not rich, to put ourselves out of the reach of want, by undertaking the tillage of a little land.

It was some time before he could find any that exactly suited us; at last he hit upon five acres, with a small house on it, two miles from town, for which we gave forty pounds. It is partially inclosed, and consists of rich scoriae soil. The house is built of the rough, unhewn scoriae stone, plastered and whitewashed within; the roof is thatched with rapu, a kind of reed; of which the natives form their huts. The flooring is sound, and the roof not low. The interior area of the entire mansion measures exactly twenty feet by ten, but, by means of a curtain, is divided into an eating and sleeping apartment; these in their time, play many parts; dining-room, drawing-room, boudoir, kitchen, nursery, library, and study. I – brought up an idle English lady, accustomed to pass my time as I pleased, to divide it between books and amusements, but giving much more of it to pleasure than to study – am the household goddess of this paradise; here I wash, and cook, feed my goats, and dress my baby, or when the little gentleman sleeps, endeavour to give you some faint idea of the toils and pleasures of an emigrant's life. But rude as our home is, we love and enjoy it more than I can describe; for it has the inexpressible charm of being – OUR OWN.

Labour is anxiously demanded here. The meanest carpenter gets eight shillings a-day. We could not, for love or money, procure one to floor our house; so trifling a job being deemed quite unworthy his attention. Labourers get four shillings and sixpence a day – some more; and one told me, to-day, that he was wanted in four places at once. Whoever, therefore, comes out above this class, must make up his mind to work (unless he bring plenty of money out with him), and work hard, or he had better stay at home. I have been, literally, a hewer of wood and a drawer of water.
But, in New Zealand, all this is done in hope – in the steadfast and sure hope of every day improving our condition, of being able to rest in our old years, and of living to our children, be they ever so many, an ample provision.

But, because I dwell so much upon the labours that have to perform, you must not suppose that the New Zealanders are without their amusements. They have their races, and their regatta, and own an Epsom, if they cannot boast a Derby. At the races I was not present; but the regatta was sight worth the voyage from England; I mean on account of the Maori race, which was the ninth of the day. Three large and powerful canoes – their prows fantastically carved and decorated with feathers, manned by an unlimited of natives – started to contest for the prizes. At the stern, and in mid-ships, their dark and tall figures naked to the waist, with frantic gestures, and wild gesticulations, stood two chiefs, animating their men to victory. They almost flew over the course; and as returning they neared the flag-ship, it was neck-and-neck contest between the two leading canoes. But Te Whero Whero [Potatau Te Wherowhero] one of the most powerful chiefs of the north, with almost unearthly yells, urged on his men. Fast flew his canoe beneath the powerful strokes of their paddles, and, darting forwards by a length, Te Whero Whero gained the honours of that day. Then the savages gave themselves up to all the excitement of victory. They shouted, they danced, they sprung – reeking as they were – into the water, and raised loud, and long, their cry of victory.

The climate is beautiful. I dress every morning with the door open (it is an outer door). Such are among the things we do with impunity. I am become robust and strong. My hair, from being weak and thin, is now so thick that I can scarcely bear its weight. Standing upon Mount Eden, as you look down upon the city and the sea, you can discern no smoke or impurity hanging over it, as over our English towns. The atmosphere is pure and balmy. Poverty hides not here in crowded and filthy dwellings. The children are chubby and clean; the women generally well-dressed and healthy.

At a distance from the town, on the road to Mount Eden, lie the cemeteries – one for every religious denomination. A large cross marks the Roman Catholic burial-ground. Each grave is railed in, and flowers had shrubs are coming up around. Slaughter-houses are not suffered to pollute our air. No meat of any description is allowed to be killed within three miles of the town. My husband walks from our suburban residence into town every day. Auckland being built upon hills, has scarely a level street. Most of the houses are detached; sometimes unappropriated allotments lie between them. There are no pavements; and grass grows in the middle of the many of the streets. Nevertheless, everything has a thriving look. New houses are being constantly erected; new shops daily opened; everything advances.

From Freeman's Bay, passing by the Roman Catholic Chapel – a handsome stone edifice, with a large floriated cross – you descend West Queen Street into Queen Street, which is long and level, abutting on Commercial Bay, the business quarter of the young metropolis. Here commence the great fuse. Here are the principal merchants' stores, and here sit the native Maoris, under little tents of while calico, their goods spread out in kits on the ground round them. In this street also stands the prison; the resident magistrate's court (similar to the English County Court), held every day, and in which much business is done; and the Supreme Court of Judicature. The last criminal sittings in this were held on the first of this month: there were six cases for trial: one, that of a Maori for the murder of a fellow-native; he was only convicted of manslaughter. Leaving this, and parallel to West Queen Street, you ascend Shortland Street, in which is the principal inn, called the Exchange Hotel, and several shops, which would not disgrace any European town. On a line with this is the Crescent, at the top of which is the church, neatly built of white stone, in the early English style of architecture. The arrangements of the inside are very admirable, since most of the seats are free. Two lecterns supply the place of the pompous reading-desk and pulpit of our English churches; and two clergymen of capability assist the bishop.
Below the church is Cooper's Bay, then Mechanics' Bay, and, last of all, Official Bay where are the residences of the Judge and the Colonial Secretary. Beyond the church is the "west end" of the town and the road leading to Epsom. The officers live here, and the men under Government. Here are the barracks and the gardens of old Government House, burned down some time since, and not yet restored. The present residence of his Excellency is a place of the most unpretending character, distinguished only by the soldiers on guard. It is situated at a little distance from the town, on the road to Mount Eden.

Two newspapers are published, each twice a week, in Auckland – the "New Zealander", and the "Southern Cross"; the former the Government, the latter the opposition paper. Sales at auction-marts take place every day in the week, Sundays excepted, at which every variety of goods are to be purchased at cheap rates; and the auctioneer appears to do a thriving business here.
There are daily schools for children, one for every sect. The Protestant, the Roman Catholic, the Scotch churches, each have their own, and the Wesleyans possess a large college. At the Roman Catholic school, which is conducted by a Sister of Mercy, a number of Maori children attended very regularly.
The country round Auckland is undulating; hill and dale, with small mountains interspersed. There are three different kinds of soil – scoriae land, fern land, and "tea-tree" land. The last is always poor: the other two are good; but the scoriae by far the best, although it involved great labour and expense in clearing. The roads are in general barren, and the scenery of a gloomy and solitary grandeur; but on one highway, which I traversed the other day, hedge-rows, as in England, extended for miles; singing-birds cheered us, and charming cottages, embowered in trees, stood on the hill brows, or dotted the fertile plain.
The greatest, in fact the only, drawback of the country around Auckland, is the almost total absence of trees, except such as are planted by the settlers; yet within eight miles of Auckland the vast forests begin. Firewood is, consequently, six shillings a ton in the place where I had fondly hoped to eat strawberries of my own planting under Rawri trees five hundred feet high.
There is but one decent macadamised road in the whole district, the road to Epsom. This is a good firm road, in the worst weather, for upwards of ten miles. The Eden, Tamaka, and Onehunga roads scarcely deserve the name; in the winter the mud upon them is up to the axle-trees of carts. At the village of Onehunga is situated the Pensioners' Settlement; it is a flourishing and populous little place, on the opposite side of the island. An omnibus runs to and fro, between it and Auckland, every Sunday during the summer.

The prices of provisions here differ greatly from those of the mother country. Bread, when we first landed, was fourpence-halfpenny the two-pound loaf; it has now gradually increased to sixpence; but it is hoped that the approaching harvest will again reduce it. Tea, both black and green, can be procured of excellent quality for eighteen-pence per pound. By taking a quarter chest, you can get it at fifteen-pence. Coffee, when there is a good supply in the market, is eight-pence a pound; when scarce, it rises as high as eighteen-pence. Butter, when we came, was a shilling; it is now fifteen-pence. The prime cuts of beef and mutton are sixpence a pound; of pork, fourpence. You can buy, for sixpence, as much delicious fish as will serve an ordinary family for two days' dinner. The kinds of fish most commonly brought about here, are the snapper, the mullet, and a fish like our sole in look and taste, but rather smaller. Oysters are sixpence a kit. A kit is a native basket, made of the platted flax of the country; one may contain from four hundred to five hundred oysters. Cockles, called here pipies [pippies], fetch about the same price. Potatoes (colonially speaking, "spuds") are bought at from a shilling up to three shillings the hundred-weight. Peaches and melons are plentiful and very fine. Oranges and coconuts we get fresh from Tahiti.
One may live well here on a small income. The lowest rate of interest for money lent is ten per cent. Twelve and fifteen per cent are commonly asked and given; so that a person coming here with a thousand pounds, might really live very comfortably on the interest of the money; for a hundred pounds here will go as far as two hundred pounds in England.

To the tenant farmers of England, New Zealand offers a tempting home. No taxes, no tithes, no rent! There is good land for their seeds, and a good market for their produce. The farmer's wife may sell her cheese at one shilling a pound, her butter often at two shillings a pound, while cattle and stock of every description are cheap. The emigrant most welcome in New Zealand is either the capitalist or the poor labourer. The fern and stone-encumbered lands require the harrow and the plough. The land wants men; used to working with their hands.
Let me put in a good word for my own colony to anyone who thinks of emigration. If you are not "doing well” in the old country , and you feel it; if you can discern no sunshine in the darkness around you; above all, if you are industrious, and enduring, then emigrate. And though it may be only because I myself have emigrated thither, and am happy, that I would recommend for the field of your emigration New Zealand; yet I think that its own natural advantages speak for the place. Its climate is one of the healthiest in the world, far before that of Australia, or Van Diemen's land. There is not a single venomous, scarcely a destructive, animal in it. The natives are superior to the aborigines of any other colony. The colony is yet in its first infancy, and therefore offers you, perhaps, the greater chance of making yourself rich with a small capital; at the same time, it bids fair eventually to equal any colony in commerce, as it already does in natural advantages. I would not willingly deceive any one. I conscientiously believe what I write, and I have written nothing which I have not either seen with my own eyes, heard with my own ears, or received from the most undoubted authority. But what I have said can hold good only with respect to Auckland, although the seat of Government, the least known and the most abused of all the settlements belonging to New Zealand. It was in vain we searched every book upon the subject for some small account of this place; one meagre paragraph was all we found. From report I am led to believe that New Plymouth must be a most lovely and fertile place, retarded, however, greatly by its want of harbour, for it has nothing but an open roadstead. The prices of almost every kind of provision are dearer at New Plymouth than at Auckland, while land is cheaper. It is now in a very unsettled state respecting the land titles. The repeated volcanic shocks experienced at Wellington must always prevent that settlement (although a much older and wealthier) from being able to compete with the capital. The climate of Nelson is superb, but then the place is miserably poor, almost all traffic being carried on by way of barter. Sooner or later, justice will be done to Auckland, which I am sure is equal to the best of the New Zealand settlements.