Oamaru's Pioneer Bard Was a Man of Parts

Otago Daily Times, Issue 26958, 18 December 1948, Page 10

Oamaru's Pioneer Bard Was a Man of Parts

For the Daily Times, by, George Meek

Some day we’ll sense our neighbour’s good— When warring mankind shall be brothers; And in a world of Brotherhood. We’ll see ourselves as we see others. —Robert Mitchell, horse doctor, horse dealer, bell ringer, actor, prospector, policeman, ploughman and poet.

Of all the bards that have tuned their lyres under the blue skies of sunny Oamaru, Bob Mitchell was certainly the most picturesque and the most practical. Modern bands have led the way in the accompaniment of “poetry” by the lyre. Bob Mitchell, with the true Apollo spirit, accom-

panied the lyre by his “ poetry.” On special occasions he arrayed himself - dn a red coat which was draped around a rare set of mutton-chop whiskers (squatter’s gap), of which Bob was mighty proud.. He considered they gave him a most distinguished appearance, and further claimed that he bore a striking resemblance to the Emperor Frederick of Germany, and that on one of his trips to India with a shipment of horses, he was pointed out as the Right Hon. William Ewart Gladstone. He was born in the village of Leslie

in the County of Fyfe. in 1838, his father being a blacksmith and veterin- * ary surgeon. At the age of 14 he went to work on his uncle’s farm in

~ ,'.the parish of Dumfermline, and joined • that great lyrical fraternity of which Bums was the head, by becoming a

ploughman-poet in his early youth. In 1859 he went to Ireland as a studgroom. While engaged in this employment, he became acquainted with a gentleman who, with a view to a more balanced household economy, persuaded Bob to leave the studgroom job and join the police force as a fitting move in furthering his prospects of marriage with his daughter Marie. Bob, however, was not altogether happy about the prospect of sharing this household's expenses and family bothers, so one night he slipped aboard a steamer bound for Glasgow, as Bob records—“ Without saying good-bye to the blooming and bewitching Marie or her respected parents, I leave them, the police, and Ireland, in one act.” He landed a+ Greenoch and took train to Paisley, where he got mixed up in the theatrical business, playing small parts at the Theatre Royal. He made his exit from the stage by swapping his stage “ props ” for a second-hand moleskin vest and trousers, and tramped to Dundee. At the time of his arrival great religious revivals were being conducted, which he greeted with the lines, “The Revivals in Dundee.” concluding:

They sav they’re on the heavenly line; With ho returning ticket; How would their bunch of crinoline

Get through the narrow wicket?

In 1863 he again yielded to the travel temptation, and stepped aboard a steamer bound for Newcastle, with his swag labelled “ steerage.” He

found the Newcastle people “ a wholesouled, hospitable, kindly lot of people,” but when two rival steamship .companies started carrying passengers between Newcastle and London for eighteen pence ahead, Bob found it impossible to resist the temptation of such a trivial amount standing between him and London. In his lines of farewell to the North of England he wrote:

Although a wanderer doomed to roam,

By fickle, adverse fortune tossed.

Near thee I felt the joys of home, Though of a home I cannot boast. He got a job in London as coachman to a travelling giantess. The 16-year-old giantess and her widowed mother, however, were evidently more than Bob could contend with, so one night he hired a waterman’s boat and hailed an outward-bound steamer for Hull, eventually arriving at a town called Beverley, where he was employed as a railway carter. In 1865 he went back to Scotland, leaving Dundee for Australia in 1866. In 1867, having amassed £l5O, he sailed for New Zealand, landing at Hokitika, and later tramped overland to Christchurch. In the same year he moved by steamer to Dunedin, arriving eventually a 1 Oamaru in 1868, with the budget showing £2B surplus. In 1889 he produced, published and pedalled his book, “Rhymes and Rambles" a laudable example to present-day poets. It contained. 34 pages of prose and 30 pages of verse. In his introduction he was frankly hostile to those poets who have their works published “ in deference to the earnest solicitations of a numerous "circle of friends,” and stated flatly that his motive was to try and make money and also satisfy what he. considered a laudable ambition, claiming that those who nurture the mind and those who nurture the body are both public benefactors. He was always most appreciative of his friends—a worthy trait, in which Bums excelled. In his lines to the memory of Mr James Gray, who was drowned while bathing in the Kakanui River on Christmas Eve, 1869, he concluded:—

Just and generous, Jamie's drowned. Fate’s decree we ne’er can know: As time's revolving wheel goes round. My best friends seem the' first to go. Life Is but a breathing spell, A short stage on a winter’s day. Soon, very soon, will ring the knell That summons me to Jamie Gray.

In the mayoral election of 1874, Boh Mitchell issued a poetical commentary on the qualifications of the candidates. His concluding stanza, while not complimentary to the candidates, certainly showed his sense of humour:

Or, to end all the rumpus and riot. I’ll be your Lord Mayor mysel'; I could do a bit deal on the quiet. And act for a twelve-month the swell

Like able leader-writers. Bob was always right on time with current affairs. When a well-known Oamaru MHR of those days vacated his seat in the Lower House and was elevated to a seat in the Upper House, Bob, in his “ Lay of an Election,” commented in one stanza:

“Retrench!” he cried loud and persistent, He fathered the no-pension bill; A man should aye be consistent— What’s he now but a pensioner still.

He also published a book of recipes on the care of horses, in which he proudly claimed that he had taken 300 horses, for himself and others, to Australia, and had never landed a dead one.

In the closing years of his life," his robust constitution, which had no doubt received many a rough handling, started to wilt under the strain, and he suffered from, acute lumbago. As he was hardly able to shift for himself, he asked a friend if he knew where he could get a woman to come in and tidy up a bit, and do odd jobs. “Do you want a housekeeper? ” inquired his friend. “How can I afford a housekeeper when I’m on the pension? ” asked Bob. “I'll marry her, provided she’s getting the pension, too.” Bob Mitchell was a dealer to the last.