Chapter I: Waste Lands
If the reader will
excuse me, I will say nothing of my antecedents,
nor of the
circumstances which led me to leave my
native country;
the narrative would be tedious to him and painful to myself.
Suffice it, that when I left home it was with the intention of
going to some new colony, and either finding, or even perhaps
purchasing, waste crown land suitable for cattle or sheep farming,
by which means I thought that I could better my fortunes more
rapidly than in England.
It will be seen that I did not succeed in my design, and that
however much I may have met with that was new and strange, I have
been unable to reap any pecuniary advantage.
It is true, I imagine myself to have made a discovery which, if I
can be the first to profit by it, will bring me a recompense beyond
all money computation, and secure me a position such as has not
been attained by more than some fifteen or sixteen persons, since
the creation of the universe. But to this end I must possess
myself of a considerable sum of money: neither do I know how to
get it, except by interesting the public in my story, and inducing
the charitable to come forward and assist me. With this hope I now
publish my adventures; but I do so with great reluctance, for I
fear that my story will be doubted unless I tell the whole of it;
and yet I dare not do so, lest others with more means than mine
should get the start of me. I prefer the risk of being doubted to
that of being anticipated, and have therefore concealed my
destination on leaving England, as also the point from which I
began my more serious and difficult journey.
My chief consolation lies in the fact that truth bears its own
impress, and that my story will carry conviction by reason of the
internal evidences for its accuracy. No one who is himself honest
will doubt my being so.
I reached my destination in one of the last months of 1868, but I
dare not mention the season, lest the reader should gather in which
hemisphere I was. The colony was one which had not been opened up
even to the most adventurous settlers for more than eight or nine
years, having been previously uninhabited, save by a few tribes of
savages who frequented the seaboard. The part known to Europeans
consisted of a coast-line about eight hundred miles in length
(affording three or four good harbours), and a tract of country
extending inland for a space varying from two to three hundred
miles, until it a reached the offshoots of an exceedingly lofty
range of mountains, which could be seen from far out upon the
plains, and were covered with perpetual snow. The coast was
perfectly well known both north and south of the tract to which I
have alluded, but in neither direction was there a single harbour
for five hundred miles, and the mountains, which descended almost
into the sea, were covered with thick timber, so that none would
think of settling.
With this bay of land, however, the case was different. The
harbours were sufficient; the country was timbered, but not too
heavily; it was admirably suited for agriculture; it also contained
millions on millions of acres of the most beautifully grassed
country in the world, and of the best suited for all manner of
sheep and cattle. The climate was temperate, and very healthy;
there were no wild animals, nor were the natives dangerous, being
few in number and of an intelligent tractable disposition.
It may be readily understood that when once Europeans set foot upon
this territory they were not slow to take advantage of its
capabilities. Sheep and cattle were introduced, and bred with
extreme rapidity; men took up their 50,000 or 100,000 acres of
country, going inland one behind the other, till in a few years
there was not an acre between the sea and the front ranges which
was not taken up, and stations either for sheep or cattle were
spotted about at intervals of some twenty or thirty miles over the
whole country. The front ranges stopped the tide of squatters for
some little time; it was thought that there was too much snow upon
them for too many months in the year,--that the sheep would get
lost, the ground being too difficult for shepherding,--that the
expense of getting wool down to the ship's side would eat up the
farmer's profits,--and that the grass was too rough and sour for
sheep to thrive upon; but one after another determined to try the
experiment, and it was wonderful how successfully it turned out.
Men pushed farther and farther into the mountains, and found a very
considerable tract inside the front range, between it and another
which was loftier still, though even this was not the highest, the
great snowy one which could be seen from out upon the plains. This
second range, however, seemed to mark the extreme limits of
pastoral country; and it was here, at a small and newly founded
station, that I was received as a cadet, and soon regularly
employed. I was then just twenty-two years old.
I was delighted with the country and the manner of life. It was my
daily business to go up to the top of a certain high mountain, and
down one of its spurs on to the flat, in order to make sure that no
sheep had crossed their boundaries. I was to see the sheep, not
necessarily close at hand, nor to get them in a single mob, but to
see enough of them here and there to feel easy that nothing had
gone wrong; this was no difficult matter, for there were not above
eight hundred of them; and, being all breeding ewes, they were
pretty quiet.
There were a good many sheep which I knew, as two or three black
ewes, and a black lamb or two, and several others which had some
distinguishing mark whereby I could tell them. I would try and see
all these, and if they were all there, and the mob looked large
enough, I might rest assured that all was well. It is surprising
how soon the eye becomes accustomed to missing twenty sheep out of
two or three hundred. I had a telescope and a dog, and would take
bread and meat and tobacco with me. Starting with early dawn, it
would be night before I could complete my round; for the mountain
over which I had to go was very high. In winter it was covered
with snow, and the sheep needed no watching from above. If I were
to see sheep dung or tracks going down on to the other side of the
mountain (where there was a valley with a stream--a mere cul de
sac), I was to follow them, and look out for sheep; but I never saw
any, the sheep always descending on to their own side, partly from
habit, and partly because there was abundance of good sweet feed,
which had been burnt in the early spring, just before I came, and
was now deliciously green and rich, while that on the other side
had never been burnt, and was rank and coarse.
It was a monotonous life, but it was very healthy and one does not
much mind anything when one is well. The country was the grandest
that can be imagined. How often have I sat on the mountain side
and watched the waving downs, with the two white specks of huts in
the distance, and the little square of garden behind them; the
paddock with a patch of bright green oats above the huts, and the
yards and wool-sheds down on the flat below; all seen as through
the wrong end of a telescope, so clear and brilliant was the air,
or as upon a colossal model or map spread out beneath me. Beyond
the downs was a plain, going down to a river of great size, on the
farther side of which there were other high mountains, with the
winter's snow still not quite melted; up the river, which ran
winding in many streams over a bed some two miles broad, I looked
upon the second great chain, and could see a narrow gorge where the
river retired and was lost. I knew that there was a range still
farther back; but except from one place near the very top of my own
mountain, no part of it was visible: from this point, however, I
saw, whenever there were no clouds, a single snow-clad peak, many
miles away, and I should think about as high as any mountain in the
world. Never shall I forget the utter loneliness of the prospect--
only the little far-away homestead giving sign of human handiwork;-
-the vastness of mountain and plain, of river and sky; the
marvellous atmospheric effects--sometimes black mountains against a
white sky, and then again, after cold weather, white mountains
against a black sky--sometimes seen through breaks and swirls of
cloud--and sometimes, which was best of all, I went up my mountain
in a fog, and then got above the mist; going higher and higher, I
would look down upon a sea of whiteness, through which would be
thrust innumerable mountain tops that looked like islands.
I am there now, as I write; I fancy that I can see the downs, the
huts, the plain, and the river-bed--that torrent pathway of
desolation, with its distant roar of waters. Oh, wonderful!
wonderful! so lonely and so solemn, with the sad grey clouds above,
and no sound save a lost lamb bleating upon the mountain side, as
though its little heart were breaking. Then there comes some lean
and withered old ewe, with deep gruff voice and unlovely aspect,
trotting back from the seductive pasture; now she examines this
gully, and now that, and now she stands listening with uplifted
head, that she may hear the distant wailing and obey it. Aha! they
see, and rush towards each other. Alas! they are both mistaken;
the ewe is not the lamb's ewe, they are neither kin nor kind to one
another, and part in coldness. Each must cry louder, and wander
farther yet; may luck be with them both that they may find their
own at nightfall. But this is mere dreaming, and I must proceed.
I could not help speculating upon what might lie farther up the
river and behind the second range. I had no money, but if I could
only find workable country, I might stock it with borrowed capital,
and consider myself a made man. True, the range looked so vast,
that there seemed little chance of getting a sufficient road
through it or over it; but no one had yet explored it, and it is
wonderful how one finds that one can make a path into all sorts of
places (and even get a road for pack-horses), which from a distance
appear inaccessible; the river was so great that it must drain an
inner tract--at least I thought so; and though every one said it
would be madness to attempt taking sheep farther inland, I knew
that only three years ago the same cry had been raised against the
country which my master's flock was now overrunning. I could not
keep these thoughts out of my head as I would rest myself upon the
mountain side; they haunted me as I went my daily rounds, and grew
upon me from hour to hour, till I resolved that after shearing I
would remain in doubt no longer, but saddle my horse, take as much
provision with me as I could, and go and see for myself.
But over and above these thoughts came that of the great range
itself. What was beyond it? Ah! who could say? There was no one
in the whole world who had the smallest idea, save those who were
themselves on the other side of it--if, indeed, there was any one
at all. Could I hope to cross it? This would be the highest
triumph that I could wish for; but it was too much to think of yet.
I would try the nearer range, and see how far I could go. Even if
I did not find country, might I not find gold, or diamonds, or
copper, or silver? I would sometimes lie flat down to drink out of
a stream, and could see little yellow specks among the sand; were
these gold? People said no; but then people always said there was
no gold until it was found to be abundant: there was plenty of
slate and granite, which I had always understood to accompany gold;
and even though it was not found in paying quantities here, it
might be abundant in the main ranges. These thoughts filled my
head, and I could not banish them.
Erewhon : Chapter II - In the Wool-Shed
Erewhon