VICTORIA: ITS PROGRESS AND POSITION.

Colonist, Issue 88, 24 August 1858, Page 3

VICTORIA: ITS PROGRESS AND POSITION.

Gold, Land, and Labor.—A few clays since we adverted to the position which Victoria has within a very short period attained as a recipient and purchaser of the exports of England. Our share of these has been paid for in produce raised in the colony, by a small number of its inhabitants. It is not uncommonly said, and by far too many thoughtlessly believed, that we should be now much wealthier as a people if, instead of directing our attention to the search for gold, we had raised for ourselves the food and manufactured many of the articles which we have received in exchange for this gold, and which have formed so large a portion of the exports for which this

colony has been such a good customer to England. Most of the food could have been profitably raised here, and doubtless much of the time wasted ar.d labor uselessly expended on 'he gold fields would have been better spout in tilling more of our fertile soil for the production of such aitides of agricultural use as .pan be beneficially grown in the colony. Suitable lots of land should have been much earlier thrown open to the agriculturist, and thus an outlet would have been afforded for a great part of that labor which had become superabundant ou the gold fields under the system of mining heretofore persisted in ; but nothing more than the opening up of this and other channels of industry, impeded by impolitic laws and restrictions, could have been attempted with advantage. Gold is one of the staple products of the country, and it must be sold as freely as our wool or tallow. A nation or people must have 1 berty to sell those articles which it can best produce, as freely as a farmer is allowed to sell I:is grain, or exchange it for what he cannot, grow himself, and for tools and implements wherewith to extend his operations and appropriate more of the riches stored up by Nature within his reach.

Gold is such a good representative of wealth, and the two words are so commonly used as synonymous terms, that many forget it is the recognition of it as a purchasing medium all over the world which constitutes the value of tin's metal. It is the most universal and most stable description of money, and the anxiety to become possessed of some of it has-brought to these shores the many, strongmen ioitn'e piljine: of life who have mainly contributed to our rapid progress. The energies of too many of them have been Badly applied ; still a great deal has been done. It is no long time since the sites of now populous towns afforded nothing more than a scanty pasture for a fewsheep or cattle, and ample provision has been made for the support of these towns; yet some of the wilfully blind and dissatisfied among us say that the country is becoming poorer every day. They might say with truth that the number of poor people is increasing ; and so it is in proportion to the general increase of inhabitants, for it seems to be a law of nature, that no matter how wealthy a people may be, there must be a certain number of persons either unable or unwilling to live by their own exertions; but. those who say that the country is impoverished must be either mentally or physically blind.

How the City has Eiskn.—The value of the permanent improvements made in Victoria during the last seven years, would, if fairly computed, amount to something astonishing. From a commanding poitit of view in Melbourne alone, what an addition to the wealth of the first year of the half-century may fee seen : the city and its suburbs extending for miles in every direction; thousands of houses, churches, schools, stores, and shops, on ground" so lately bearing nothing on its surface but a few gura trees ; tall and smoky chimneys indicating the application of that powerful agent steam to many works of art or utility formerly done slowly aud laboriously by hand, or not attempted here at all; railway trains running every few minutes —for short distances as yet, it is true, but still proving that we appreciate and can profitably use these adjuncts of an advanced civilisation ; miles of streets made; water conducted into the heart of the city from a distance of twenty miles in sufficient abundance for five times the present population. And how much of this has ! esn done since Melbourne was deserted at the first outbreak of the gold mania ? We may say nearly all, for the Melbourne of that day, although a wonderful place for its age, w.ts a mere nothing compared to what it is now. The progress and consequent iticrease of wealth in the capital city lias truly been very great in these seven years, but not much greater in proportion than that of Geelong and other towns in the colony.

The Country.—Then in the country how much has been done! Macadamised roads, made at great cost, enabling a much smaller number of nien and horses to perform the necessary business of carriage to the interior; new land fenced in, and brought under cultivation each year to produce a larger quantity of the required food; many mills erected to prepare an important item of this food for human use; and on the gold-fields there are now a considerable number of steam-engines, and very much machinery of other lrinrls, as well as some valuable, though still insufficient, provision for the retention and supply of water. If all these things were to be set down at the cost of the labor expended on them, and the totals added up, the amount would prove to be a very large sum; and it must be remembered that almost all of this has arisen from the work done within these seven years, very little of it indeed being the result of previous labor; Not only have we been able to devote tinae to raising the gold which has been expended in paying for what we purchased from, abroad, but also to the building up of all this solid and enduring wealth in our own territory, and that without incurring a greater debt than could be easily paid off out of the ordinary revenue of the country within a short period.

Capital.—lt being so manifestly for our own benefit as well as for that of England, we shall still continue to be her good customers, but each year for a greater quantity of articles of enduring value which will become part of the fixed capital of the country. As we grow and prepare for ourselves more of the articles of consumption that now constitute a large portion of our imports, we shall be able to purchase an increased quantity of hfavy ironwork, steamengines, machinery, aud other things which we cannot so cheaply make, to aid and economise our labor power. Our exports have hitherto been great, but so have been the additions of our internal wealth ; and now that we have in some degree got over the first difficulty of re-adjusting' the industrial interests, so seriously disturbed by the early and indiscriminate pursuit of gold in ■its natural state, both our internal wealth and external trade may be expected to increase much more rapidly tban they have done during the last seven years.—-^r^ws.

History of the French Revolution—[Histoire de la Revolution Francaise.~\ By Louis Blanc. Paris, Langlois et Leclercq. The curtain, in this eighth act of a great drama, rises to discover Louis the Sixteenth conversing with Malesherbes in the Temple. He has been reading Tacitus, with that intermittent insensibility which was one of his characteristics. Hearing from Malesherbes that he was to appear, in a few days, at the bar of the Convention, he prepared with his three counse his completion of the defence they were to offer, in his name, to the charge of conspiracy and treason. It is reported by Malesherbes that Deseze, the young advocate of Bordeaux, composed so touching a peroration, that it made his colleagues weep when it was read over to them;

but the King interferred, and would not allow it, to be publicly pronounced. From this point M. Loui3 Blanc traces the dosing career of Louis the Sixteenth in a narrative at once cxi tical aud picturesque. The readers of M. de Laniartine's " History of the Girondists" will not require to be told that, it is a book of little historical value, tlnugh abounding in rich displays of styla ; but it is here shewn that many of the scenic elaborations are purely fictitious, while even M. Mitchelet and other writers, more earnest and more laborious, are convicted of absolute and serious errors. It is this that confers upon M. Louis Blanc's history its unique importance. It is the one, full, fair, and reliable narrative of the French Revolution. The French language contains no other.

The new volume is more dramatic than its predecessor; the story is more personal, more eventful, opens upon a larger stage, and'brings to view a greater variety. of characters and scenes. It embraces the close of the King's trial, bis condemnation, and death.

For a description of that death, a paraphrase of Goldsmith's account of the execution of Charles the First has usually been adopted. The silence, the composed pallor, the martyrlike serenity, the proud air of innocence, attributed to the dying English king, have been attributed in almost identical terms to the dying French Icing. The point is not, intrinsically, of much importance, since the demeanor of a condemned person affords no evidence on the question whether or not he deserved his punishment; but it is essential, for the sake of the purity of history, to get rid of servile.anecdotes arid post-mortem flatteries. M.'^oais Blanc, who treats the memory of the French king with a tenderness scarcely to have been expected, seems to have been only anxious to place the event of his execution in a clear, uncolored iight, and for this purpose has to dispose nf many exaggerations and even of many positive mistakes committed by his predecessors and contemporaries. Thus, instead of Danton proposing to the Convention an intricate series of questions, with the object of saving Louis the Sixteenth by creating a division of opinions, it is shewn that Danton has been confounded by Michelet and Lamartine with Daunnn. Again, an elaborate picture has been drawn of the aspect of Paris while the Convention sat to determine the fate of the King :—

" la it true (says M. Louis Blanc), that to intimidate the judges, and to engrave on every heart the inexorable words His Death or Thine! the Hall of the Convention had been surrounded with all could render it terrible, by terrifying its members —that arms were ringing and glittering at the doors—that cannons were brought up, with lighted matches ready—that an innumerable multitude was thronged together— that patrolling this mighty concourse were men in red caps, with hoarse voices and atrocious gestures —living images of assassination—gesticulating round the court, and shouting for a sentence of death ?"

Instead of this, Paris was completely tranquil —the ariizan classes were at work—the electoral assembly sat almost as if no Convention were in existence—a friendly festival was in preparation—scarcely thirty persons had collected about the doors.

With reference to the incidents of the execution, Louis the Sixteenth, it is true, had carefully studied the last moments of Charles the First, had reptatfd aloud his last words to Bishop Juxon, and had preserved that stolidity of demeanour, which accompanied him when he compared Livy with Tacitus, on bis way to trial: • It appears true also, from the testimony impartially collected by M. Louis Blanc, that be proceeded to the scaffold without shrinking:—

" The condemned man traversed the inner court on foot. At the entrance of the external court, a green carriage was waiting, with two gendnrm^s holding open the door. Louis entered ; his confessor taking a seat by his side, and the soldiers mounting in front. The signal is given, and the cortege moves on. It was a mournful seen". From the prison to the place of death was ranged a double line of pikes or guns, borne by men who, in their immovable silence, seemed like armed statues. The weather was cold and misty. A leaden stillness, only once broken at the gates of the Temple, by a cry of ' Mercy ! mercy !' uttered by the trembling voices of some women, reigned along the entire line of march. Here and there, a few shops were half open ; everywhere the shutters were closed. For the foot passengers there were no means of issue ; nor was a single carriage in those streets, except the one which lolled on amid universal silence, bearing the unhappy one then called Louis the Last! "

The General Council aud the Convention were sitting:—

" Meanwhile the funeral carriage advanced — advanced without pausing. Seeing it approaching, a young girl fled from a door. The cortege had to pass upon its way not far from Duplay's house. Now, on that morning, Duplay had closed the great gates, and when Eleonore inquired his reason, Robespierre had said, with a preoccupied air, ' Your father is right. Something will pass by which you ought not to see.'"

Inside the great carriage, however, some hope still lingered. The king and his confessor, even when they drew near to the guillotine, believed vaguely in a possible rescue. There had, indeed, been a plot to intercept the justice of the Convention, but the implacable vigilance of, the party in power defeated it. Of fiVe hundred men who had bound themselves by a vow, .to deliver Louis from death; only-'twenty-five were able to reach the place of rendezvous :—

"At ten minufes past ten they reached the foot of the scaffold. It had been erected in front; of the Palace of the Tuilleries, in the square called after Louis the Fifteenth, and near the spot where stood the statue of the most corrupt of'kings—a king who died tranquilly in bis bed. The ■ condemned was three minutes descending from the carriage. Upon quitting the Temple he had refused the redingofe which Clery had offered him, and now appeared in a brown coat, white waistcoat, grey breeches, and white stockings. His hair was not disordered, nor was any change perceptible in his countenance. The Abbe Firmont was dressed in black. A large open space had been kept round the scaffold,—with caunon ranged on every side, —while beyond, as far as the eye could reach, stood an unarmed multitude gazing. * * Descending from his carriage, Louis fixed his eye 3 upon the soldiers who surrounded him, and with a menacing voice cried, ' Si-' lence \' The drums ceased to beat, but at a signal from their officer, the drummers again went on. ' What treason is this ?' ho,shouted. ' I am lost! I am lost!'—for it was evident that up to this moment he had. been clinging to hope. The executioners now approached to take off a part of his clothes; he repulsed them fiercely, and himself removed the collar from his neck. But all the blood in his frame seemed to be turned into fire when they sought to tie his hands. 'Tie my hands,' he shrieked.

A struggle was inevitable:—it came. It. is indisputable, says Mercier, t.liat Louis fought with his executioners. The Abbe Edge worth stood by, perplexed, horrified, sppechless. At last, as his master seemed to look inquiringly at'him, he said, ' Sir, in this additional outrage I only see a last trait of the resemblance between .your Majesty ana 1 the God. who will give you your reward.' At these words, the indignation of the man gave way to the humility of the Christian, and LoTiis said to the executioners, ' I will drain the cup to the dregs.' They tied his hands, they cut off his hair, and then, leaning on the arm of his confessor, he began, with a .'low tread and sunken demeanor,.to mount the steps, then very steep, of the guillotine. Upon the last step, however, he seemed suddenly to muse, and walked rapidly across to the other side of the scaffld ;. when, by a sign commanding silence, he exclaimed, ' I die innocent of the crime* imputed to me.' His face was now very red, and, according to the narrative of bis confessor, his voice was so loud that it could be heard as far as the Pont-Tournanfc.. Some other expressions -were distinctly heard, ' I pardon the authors of my death, and I pray Heaven that the blood you are about to shed may never be visited upon France.' He was about to continue, when his voice was drowned by the renewed rolling of the drums, at a signal which, it is affirmed, was given by the comedian, Dugayon, in anticipation of the orders of Santetre. ' Silence !be silent!' cried Louis the Sixteenth, losing1 all self-control, and stamping violently with his foot. Kichard, one of the executioners, then seized a pistol and took aim at the king. It'was necessary to drag him along by force. With difficulty fastened to the fatal planic, be continued to utter terrible cries, only interrupted by the fall of the knife.— Athencetvm.