"New Zealand As It Is."

A page or two from a forthcoming publication is sub-title of the following, which appears in the Australian of September 20, 1839:—

New Zealand is a peculiar country—and per se in many respects, peculiar in its climate, soil, and natural productions, but pre-eminently in its inhabitants and mode of government. It is widely different from any other, either ancient or modern, that we have ever seen or read of, and from a combination of many circumstances it must remain so. A new and interesting experiment is about being tried there—or, rather, trying itself; colonisation is going on without any internal laws, and without any encouragement or aid from any regularly-constituted kingdom, country, or state. How far the experiment may succeed we dare not as yet foretell; probably it may bring forth the Utopia, which many have hitherto vainly and fondly dreamt of. At all events, it would not be cherishing too sanguine an expectation or hazarding too rash an opinion to say that it bids fair to out-rival hydrogen or bubble companies of South Australia; indeed, it is not unlikely that ere long it may advance more rapidly than New South Wales itself, however well manured the soil of the latter may have been by convict labour. But it will not bear comparison with New Holland… The two countries are essentially different. If either or each of them come 10 the maturity of an independent and prosperous kingdom, they must be widely opposite in their productions and resources. New Holland must always remain a pastoral and consequently a thinly-inhabited country. Its climate, soil, and want of internal communication by navigable rivers must render the cultivation of it a precarious and expensive pursuit. New Zealand, on the other hand, if ever it flourishes, must do so as an agricultural country. Its capabilities in this respect are good. It abounds with navigable rivers and good harbours, and, although the soil in many parts is not of the richest description—probably not so much so as in New Holland—yet the regularity of the seasons will far more than outweigh any advantages that the latter may have over it. New Holland possesses, comparatively speaking, a very small extent of good land in proportion to the immensity of its desert and barren tracts. New Zealand, on the other hand, has little really bad or unproductive soil, although the greater part may never be cultivated owing to the irregular and broken surface of the country. The whole line of sea coast is bounded by steep hills, so sudden in their ascent that, even if the soil were good (which in many cases it is), it will still never be brought into cultivation except by manual labour; and the chances are that such a system of agriculture would not sufficiently remunerate the owner of the soil in a country where labour must of necessity be high. There are several good harbours in the Northern Island of New Zealand, the principal of which are Hokianga and the Bay of Islands. The latter is most frequented. There is one remarkable feature that surrounds it—namely, there is not a level spot where a town of any dimensions could be built, with the exception of that in the possession of Mr Busby, the British Resident, and' that is not a desirable situation in consequence of its being in the first place exposed to the mouth of the harbour, and in the second on that (the west) side the water is shoal, and dangerous reefs extend a considerable distance from the shore directly opposite Mr Busby's. On the east side of the bay or harbour is the celebrated beach of Kororarika, forming the segment of a circle, about one-third of a mile in length, and terminating page 16at about 100 yards distance from the sea in a swampy ravine. About 15 weatherboarded houses and as many huts, the remnant of a native pa or village, constitutes this apology for a town. The greater part of the European inhabitants are exclusively devoted to the honourable and lucrative profession of supplying the natives, sailors, and any of the biped fraternity with liberal potations of aqua vitæ. To such an extent is this infamous practise carried on that not long since a notorious crimp and grog-seller, by the name of—, secreted an American whaler that was on the point of sailing. This circumstance so enraged the Yankee captain that he determined with a zeal worthy of every commendation to take the law into his own hands, and to inflict upon the infamous grog-seller a punishment which his conduct so justly merited. Having procured the assistance of the crew of another ship, he landed at the head of his men, and commenced pulling the crimp's house to pieces; nor did they leave the beach until it was entirely demolished. Besides the grog-sellers in this wooden town there are two or three general dealers, two shoemakers, a self-elected and licensed auctioneer, a usurer, a Catholic Bishop, and two or three priests, a Belgium botanist, a surgeon, and a ratcatcher. There are five or six establishments situated on the bank of the river above Kororarika, having a respectable and picturesque appearance. The proprietors of most of them, like mushrooms, sprung from nothing, having been run-away mechanics from whalers or masters of small coasting vessels; and one in particular, who the other day kept a grog shop, now aspires to something like consular dignity. The state of society in New Zealand altogether is deplorably low—'even beyond the low reach of compare.' The cannibalism of the natives, horrid and revolting though it be, is not a whit more repugnant to the feelings of civilised men than some of the daily unblushing practices of the white population. The evil passions and propensities of our nature are here allowed to expand themselves to their fullest, and fearfullest dimensions without the slightest control. Crimes of the deepest and blackest are not only every-day occurrences, but are even talked and boasted of by the canaille as if they were the perfection of excellence. The greater the villain, the more disgusting the blackguard, the worthier, the cleverer, and the better companion is the man reckoned. So gross and utterly regardless of decency are these people that, instead of endeavouring to conceal their infamous deeds, they take a peculiar delight in revealing them to one another. This is generally the only way of beguiling an evening. When acquaintance meets acquaintance the whole burden of their conversation is the rehearsal of all their feats in villainy since their former meeting. It is asserting nothing but truth when we say that offences most justly deemed in England worthy of death are here the boast of those who perpetrated them, so completely and thoroughly will the nature of civilised man become changed when left to itself, without fear of the vengeance of the offended law, or the reprobation of his fellow men. It will and has in this land of crime transformed itself into a condition far more debased than anything that natural savagedom has hitherto produced. The barbarian commits his savage and murderous deeds with a degree of simplicity or even innocence, consequent upon his state of ignorance; whereas the civilised savage exerts an ingenuity in planning and a refinement in executing villainy totally unknown to the other. That such a state of things should exist in New Zealand perhaps, after all, is not so much to be wondered at, when we consider the materials from which society is formed and the helpless condition of the country in regard to law and the power of quelling the outbreakings of vice and immorality among its inhabitants. Botany Bay has hitherto been reckoned the soil where crime flourished most and produced the heaviest crop, but her offspring—New Zealand—bids fair to rival her. It is well known that Botany Bay has for a number of years transplanted some of her choicest fruits into that country. They have fully proved by the luxuriance of their growth, the wisdom of the choice, and the perfect adaptation of the soil and climate to every Botany Bay production. New Zealand is, to all intents and purposes, its sublimate—a sort of city of refuge for its scapegoat malefactors, its lazy page 17runaway sailors, insolent rogues, and thieves. New Zealand possesses, as yet, nothing in the shape of a local legislature, nor is it in the least degree under the influence of law, either native or European. The Europeans are too few, too ignorant, and too licentious to wish to establish any form of authority that would at all tend to check or restrain their own unbridled and vicious passions. The power of the native chiefs is merely nominal; it has never, we believe, been very great, and it is now disappearing altogether. It is true, on extraordinary occasions, as in time of war, they can muster their men, but still each acts independently of the other. Self-interest and the feeling of danger will for a moment unite them, but when the storm has subsided every man is his own master, and returns to his former state of indolence."