George W. Bell

And they sent ships to distant lands, and brought gold, and copper, and fine wool, and the merchants made much gains.

At this juncture the loved and lost Leo Bergin notes a short intermission, for, as there is everywhere a limit to human endurance, Oseba had grown weary.

During the recess, the notes inform us, there were many whisperings, many doubtful shakes of the head, and many real fears expressed as to results regarding the conclusions of the report.

“We have gone over the globe,” said a learned-looking matron, “and we have no encouragement.”

“Better know the truth,” said another.

“It is a matter of no small importance to Cavitorus,” said a third.

The people stood, or sat, in groups and conversed earnestly, some consulting a small globe which stood on the edge of the rostrum. At the expiration of an hour, the people resumed their seats, Amoora Oseba took the platform, and the audience was all attention.

When he arose, he told the people that he understood their feelings, their hopes, their fears, and their anxieties. He had done his best, and his devoted comrades had been as solicitous as he for their beloved country and its cause. To err is human, but it were better to be over-cautious than over-anxious for a change. Not all changes mean progress, though this is not always understood, even by the world leaders.

He told his audience they were not finished—Oliffa had not yet been wholly reported upon, for they had made other discoveries. There were yet two countries to inspect, and he bid them be of good cheer. He said the countries to which he was now to call attention were quite “new” in the sense that they had been known, even to the Outeroos themselves, but a comparatively short time. He then turned on the light, exposed the full globe, and proceeded:—

“The earth has practically been circumnavigated, and, when you have seen all, I hope you will be satisfied with my efforts.

“We have visited all countries inhabited by man, and my discoveries have revealed many interesting facts, suggesting many conclusions.

“Mankind,” argued Mr. Oseba, “is akin. All sorts and conditions of men emerged from a common ancestry. The vast differences in form, color, language, custom and mentality have been caused by the varied environing conditions slowly working throughout many ages. From common passions, common wants and common efforts for their gratification, has man slowly pressed forward, the pace varying as Nature invited or forbade the movement.

“But genius has annihilated time and space. The world is being brought in touch, and the race that improved the cunning of the hand, and aroused the inquiry of the brain, is destined to guide, unify, and dominate the world.

“The Anglo-Saxon is a peculiar compound of many mixed and sturdy tribes, and in the genius of race, there is the magic potion that is giving tone, language and inspiration to humanity.

“But the modern Briton is the finished product of Anglo-Saxon aims, and inherited aspiration. The Briton is a trinity composed of English, Irish and Scotch, a compound of the most stubborn vices and most sturdy virtues ever found in an organised society.

“Janus was not a Briton; the Briton has but one face, and it is always looking to the front. The Briton is sturdy, so he presses forward; he is weary, and he never runs; he is tenacious, and he appropriates everything having one loose end. Having more wants than industry, he invents that he may be satisfied. He adjusts himself to new conditions, so he hoists his flag over his new cabin and annexes all in sight. Being dull as a linguist, the people of all climes have to learn his speech, or abstain from the banquet of the present, and—the future.

“Yes, the British are of a sturdy race. They were developed in a fine climate. But people can’t live on climate, and these people had appetites. No thing can come from nothing. Thoughts and actions are ‘products,’ but the finished goods always reveal the character of the raw material. Strange,” he argued, “but as a man eats, so is he. The Frenchman eats frog, and he dances; the Italian eats macaroni and he runs a hand organ; while the Briton as a regular diet takes beef-steak and lion, so he wanders about, and—paints the world red.

“In less time than it took the old nations to build a city, the inhabitants of the small British Isles had pre-empted more than one-fifth of the surface of the planet, and were masters of the affections of a fourth of the human race. But the noblest works accomplished by this resistless people are now to be revealed, for the admiration of my countrymen.”

Here he turned on the great forty-foot sphere to an axial angle of twenty-three degrees, well exposing the Southern Hemisphere. After noticing the southern orifice—the back door of Symmes’ Hole—and the difference in the distribution of land and water near the respective poles, he turned the globe so as to give a fair exposure of Australasia.

In Oseba’s more cheerful demeanor, his more ready speech, and his radiant countenance, there was a gleam of joy, and when once the full import of this new scene was appreciated, there was a generous burst of applause—Leo notes, “almost enthusiasm.”

“This,” said the sage Oseba, “is the ‘Austral climes,’ the last dry dirt on the surface of Oliffa, wholly rescued from darkness and devoted to civilisation.

“Its color indicates its social condition—it is civilised and free, for on Oliffa, my children, ‘red’ is the emblem of hope. ‘Painting the world red,’ means turning on the light, and John Bull always carries a bucket of carmine—and he often has a ‘brush.’”

Oseba said that in the whole inquiry he had endeavoured to follow an example set, many centuries ago, by a Personage whose advice is constantly quoted on Oliffa—and more constantly ignored—of keeping the best to the last.

Australia was of old called an island, but as in area it about equalled the United States of America, and almost that of Europe—having near 3,000,000 square miles—it was now regarded as a “continent,” though it had less than 4,000,000 people.

“Room for a colony?” said the poetess Vauline, with something bordering emotion.

“Yes,” said Oseba.

But let us proceed cautiously. I boil down.

He said there was plenty of “room,” and for sometime there would be “room to let,” but as a fact, while a lovely land, inhabited by a splendid people, it was not quite all it seemed on the map. On the borders of the “Australian continent,” and reaching back long hundreds of miles, there was much beautiful country, but there was a vast interior, which, though red on the map, was almost too thin even to hold the paint.

As a fact, much of the surface of Australia was afflicted, like many of her people, with an insatiable thirst. To the uninformed, this “dry” and hot interior gave Australia a “bad name,” as people are usually influenced by “sound,” and they rarely stop to reflect how many grand empires might be carved out from these fertile borders and plains.

He described how Cook “found” Australia in 1770, and how, by the directions of Sydney, Colonial Secretary, it was first “colonised” in 1779. He recorded its struggles and growth during the silent years; how colonial authority was exercised; how self rule, or so-called “responsible government” was established; and how, to reach more remote portions of the country from convenient seats of authority, several autonomous colonies were formed.

Owing to the large expense of coming, immigrants were usually of the better class; and, owing to the distance from central authority, the colonist became self-reliant, and soon began to apply new ideas to new conditions.

He dwelt with evident pleasure upon the development of the cities of the continental colonies as splendid centres of wealth and population, and praised the spirit that was ready to cast tradition to the winds, and boldly experiment upon various expedients, that seemed a solution for some pressing problem.

In describing Australasian cities, he declared that Sydney was the most beautiful city on earth, having a society which, for culture and character, equalled that of any other country. He admired the competitive spirit as between the different or several political centres, and of the many departures from old notions.

The courage of the people in the adoption of new political methods, and their re-arrangement of the relations between governments and industrial forces, seemed to please him greatly.

He declared that “these self-governing autonomous colonies, aroused by inviting opportunities of a novel environment, inspired by a sphere of undefined liberty, with reckless readiness to resort to new expedients for the accomplishment of new purposes, had produced in Australasia, in all the essentials of true worth, the highest average type of man and womanhood on the surface of Oliffa—with the more isolated New Zealand probably leading.”

Oseba said the Australasians enjoyed a higher average plane of living than any other people; they were better educated, better clothed, better fed, and better housed, and, with comparisons made on the same or like basis, they were the greatest commercial people on the globe, with proportionately much greater banking power than any other people. In proportion to population, these 4,500,000 Australasians had four times the capital of the people of other leading countries, and their commerce was four times larger.

He applauded the tendency towards holding the lands at nominal or low rents for the use of the people; the construction, ownership and management of the railways, telegraphs, telephones and other public utilities, by the government for the convenience and use of the governed, as the acme of political wisdom.

He claimed that the Australasians had confirmed every lesson of history, for all experience taught that only through colonial enterprise were experiments in legislation safe, and advanced ideas crystallised into law. Small communities might safely experiment, and when the people bore sway, the dangers possible from rapid changes were preferable to the mildew of stagnation.

In political and social progress, in material prosperity and moral worth, the people of Australasia were conspicuously at the head of the procession.

Only through the influence of colonial enterprise, had real liberty ever gained a substantial victory, and only through expedients suggested by colonial necessities, had great economic changes hurriedly come.

America, in her free and fearless youth, far excelled the motherland in liberal legislation and economic progress, but the millstone of aggregated wealth and “vested interests” weighed her down, and she retired from the leadership, while Australasia, with her novel surroundings and the experience of all the former ages to contemplate, proposed to sail a little further over the inviting seas of social progress, and her success had vindicated the wisdom of her determination. At a time when many other nations were almost madly pushing colonial experiments, she had written a new volume corroborating the evidence of the centuries, that Britain alone, of all modern nations, possessed the requisite qualities for successful colonisation.

“Australasia deserves well of the world,” said Oseba, “for under the separate standards of her many colonial chiefs, she has moved the people on to a most advanced position.

“But in Australia proper there has recently come a change that must necessarily check the rapidity of Australian progress. Six of the Australasian colonies—New Zealand not [Pg 104]
[Pg 105]joining—have left the skirmish-line, and formed into a less mobile mass. The light infantry have buckled on heavy knapsacks—the flying artillery have been re-cast into siege guns. The ‘states’ are now anchored to the past, and the ‘Commonwealth’ must be unwieldy. The members of this compact may chafe, but the chains are unyielding, and the ponderous hulk, in which all the luggage has been tossed, will be found cumbrously slow in its movements.

“As social groups, the Australians, in their ‘free colonies,’ were in their vigorous youth—they were buoyant and ambitious. They looked abroad, beheld what others had done, and said, ‘Let us take another step,’ and being free and self-ruling, they were able to hurriedly adjust their political machine to their local requirements.

“Inspired by novel environments, great opportunities and hard necessities, the Phoenicians and the Greeks, as colonisers, gave to Europe its commercial instincts; and, inspired by like opportunities and necessities, the British have not only made the dreams of the ancients a reality but they have created and firmly established modern civilisation. America is the Carthage of Phoenicia. Australasia is the Magna Grecia of Greece. Australia has played well her part.

“But a new king has come, my children, ‘who knew not Joseph,’ and no Moses can lead the people rapidly out from the shadow of the ‘Commonwealth.’

“Australia has a genial climate; she has broad, fertile acres enough to support a grand empire; she has a magnificent people, and she has advanced the standard of social progress many a league, but a ‘tribal’ exuberance has been hampered by allegiance to a central authority, so the leadership in social progress must be passed to less incumbered hands.

“The world stands in mute admiration at Australia’s social achievements; but, to gratify the ambition of a few men who desired a broader field for the display of a splendid talent, she has lost her ‘innings,’ and ‘New Zealand’ has the bat.

“When the Commonwealth band struck up, it was whispered across 1,200 miles of sea to New Zealand, ‘Will you walk into my parlor?’ but the sturdy Seddon answered, ‘No, thanks! we will go ahead, and turn on a little more light.’

“Then, while I love the Australians and shall ever hope for their future prosperity, we will ‘ring off,’ and review the last, the loveliest, and the most free and inviting field ever explored by man, for already the colors are in worthy hands, and the leaders have proposed to take another step.”

Summing up for a conclusion, the sage Oseba said that China, even with “opportunities,” presented no varieties; and while Japan had variety, she had no room. Europe was too strongly wedded to militarism for healthy mental growth; Britain has become a park for her nobles; Africa had the black plague; America was owned by the trusts, and was managed in their interests by the party bosses; and Australia, like a child crying for bracelets, had put on hand-cuffs.

“So, none of these answer the requirements of our commission,” said the orator, “and I now invite you, my children, to another series of pictures in our elaborate gallery—’tis of my last ‘discovery.’”

Here, pending the re-adjustment of the instruments, the audience indulged in a few moments of lively conversation, for the promises seemed to be more encouraging. But soon Mr. Oseba stepped to the front with a confident dignity, and in a pleasing voice said:—

“My learned colleagues, and you, my beloved countrymen and women, I have detained you long, and, that you might appreciate my conclusions, I have gone somewhat into details in my extensive review. I have shown you many of my discoveries, on the outer surface of our planet; I have explained the political systems of many peoples, and I have observed the play of your emotions as the conditions of men were portrayed; but I now promise you only pleasing revelations, for in beauty, in climate, in soil and social situation, I am going to show you the paradise of Oliffa, and this means a portion of Australasia that declined to join the federation of which I have spoken—it means New Zealand, on the map, ‘Zealandia,’ with the poets, but Zelania, as it would be called in our more musical speech, and by this euphonious title shall we speak of that charming land. This, my children, was my last discovery, and while many people on Oliffa don’t care to be discovered at all, I hope the ‘Zelanians’ will never regret my having landed on their blissful shores.”