Atlas Page 15
By Andrew Garran,
Francis Meyers and F. J. Broomfield

THE streets of Sydney are not as the streets of other New World cities. They are not laid out on a chess-board pattern, following some draftsman’s predetermined plan, irrespective of the contour of the ground. George Street is, in fact, the survival of the primitive bush-track by which the bullock drays entered and left the settlement. Its bends and its irregular width bear witness to this day to its origin. The other main track, Pitt Street, which lies roughly parallel to it, is straighter and more regular, but it was not at first continued, through to Circular Quay. Sydney began on the western shore of the Cove, close to the present site of the Manly steamers’ wharf, where the short street, still called Queen’s Wharf, leads into George Street, and its topography will best be understood by studying the fall of the land at that point. The natural feature that determined the selection of the site of the city was the Tank Stream, which furnished an immediate supply of fresh water —that prime essential to a young settlement. The supply was not very abundant, as the settlers soon found out, for the tide rose as far as Bridge Street, and above that the stream had a length of only a few hundred yards; but there was enough to begin with, and tanks were dug out to store that little. A reference to the plan of early Sydney will show that the course of the Tank Stream is nearly north. The track, which is now George Street, starting from the western side of the Cove, followed the bank of this stream, then over the ridge down the slope called Brickfield Hill into the valley of a watercourse running into the head of Darling Harbour, and so on towards Parramatta. This was the first great artery of traffic.

Beginning as Sydney did at the mouth of the Tank Stream, its earlier streets naturally occupied the two slopes leading down into the valley. On its western side the ground sloped upward to the ridge, and then over it steeply down to the waters of Darling Harbour. On the eastern side the ground sloped up to another ridge, and down to the waters of Woolloomooloo Bay; but on that side so much of the land was reserved for public uses that the city could not spread in that direction, and its earliest development was therefore on the portion lying between the Tank Stream and Darling Harbour. The highest land on this peninsula is that just abreast of the landing-place, and up the slope towards this height, now occupied by the Observatory, climbed some of the earlier settlers. On the top was erected one of the first windmills, the only remaining memorial of which is Windmill Street leading down from Lower Fort Street to the water. The roads were necessarily steep and irregular, and so they remain to this day, though the original tracks have been in some places civilised into stairways cut in the rock. The primitive houses were perched wherever convenience dictated, and the arrangements were not at all adapted to modern notions of sanitary science or city engineering. The seafaring folk, used to climbing, had a fancy for this point of high land, for even when ashore they liked a sight of the blue water and the moving craft.

The earliest private wharves were formed along the shore from Dawes’ Point and round by Miller’s Point, and the great knob of land which was thus half-encircled was a convenient dwelling-place for those who did not wish to go far from their ships or their business. This part of Sydney, which is still known as "The Rocks," has a quaint old-world air about it. It has a suggestion of old Folkestone, with a touch of Wapping and a reminiscence of Poplar. Those who are in search of primitive Sydney will find more of it here than anywhere else. What are now called hovels were once respectable tenements; but in Upper and Lower Fort Streets there are substantial houses, once the homes of well-to-do merchants and skippers. The great commercial buildings have since settled themselves in another direction, in positions more central to business and to which the access by road is easier. But old Sydney still remains very much as first fashioned, a little straightened and smoothened, but in its main outlines what it originally was.

Of late years the neighbourhood of Lower George Street has become the favourite haunt of the Chinese immigrants, who naturally gravitated to the older and shabbier part of the town, and here their stores, their lodging-houses, and their furniture shops abound. It is half China-town, sprinkled with Caucasian trade-marks. Opium fumes are in the air, and indications also of the peculiar cookery of China. Mongolian wares are seen in the windows. In the open shops Chinamen are busy making and polishing furniture, and half-bred children play upon the steps. Signs and symptoms of fan-tan, lotteries, and other games of chance may sometimes be noticed by the initiated, though the police occasionally come down severely on these gambling establishments. The Chinese show unremitting industry, and yet afford a singular contrast to the smartness and enterprise of colonial commerce. Their quarter in Sydney is thoroughly intermixed with European establishments, and is by no means so exclusively national as the Chinese quarter in San Francisco, or even in some other Australian cities.

The route from Lower George Street round to Miller’s Point, by way of Dawes’ Battery, was in the early days considered inconveniently circuitous, while to take laden drays over the height was out of the question. So a passage, known as the Argyle Cut, was driven through the rock, the intersected streets being preserved by means of overhead bridges.

This was a more important passage when first made than it is now, for before Circular Quay was improved by the Government, the wharves and warehouses on the western side of the point gave the principal accommodation to the shipping. And even that accommodation was subject to one great drawback, namely the steepness of all the roadways to the water’s edge. The harbour-frontage is all that can be desired, but the access to it is very inferior. In the early days the streets were laid out on the natural gradients, for there were no funds available for expensive works, and bullocks and horses were left to do the best they could. The Druitt street test used to be the warranty given with a horse, for an animal that would draw a ton straight up from Darling Harbour into George Street was considered staunch. Since the commerce of Sydney has increased, the inconvenient access to the wharves of Darling Harbour has been more and more a matter of complaint, and several have been the projects for making a grand reformation along the whole foreshore by the construction of a continuous wharf, a new road and a railway. These, however, are at present only schemes, but some fine profile for the water-frontage may find its place in an illustrated Sydney of the future. At present the old city maintains in this quarter its ancient form, varied only by the construction of longer and stronger jetties, and the erection of new, capacious and handsome warehouses. Great improvements have been made in this respect, but they leave unaltered all the defects of the primitive plan, and indeed increase the cost and difficulty of any comprehensive alterations.

As the line of water-frontage to Darling Harbour runs nearly parallel to George Street, the intervening streets necessarily take the same general direction. The official loyalty of early days was very effusive, and constantly assumed the form of giving to places the titular designations of members of the reigning family. This tendency is seen the names Sussex Street, Kent Street, Clarence Street and York Street, lying between George Street and the water. The rugged contour of the original ground in this part of Sydney is still seen in the irregular way in which the houses are pitched. To improve the gradients, the streets have in many places been cut down, and consequently every here and there may be seen houses perched on the rock ten or twenty feet above the level of the pathway, and approached by stone or wooden steps. Bit by bit such memorials of old Sydney are passing away. These streets were the favourite haunts of persons connected with the shipping, and especially of those engaged in the coasting and intercolonial trade. Produce stores of every kind and size abound, into which are unloaded cargoes of lucerne hay from the Hunter River, maize from the coast farther north, potatoes from the south and farm produce from Tasmania, New Zealand, Victoria and South Australia. Crates of fowls, baskets of eggs, sides of bacon, kegs of butter and every description of farm produce are exposed for sale. The locality is practically an open market, and the dealers, acting either as agents for their country consignors, or as speculators anxious to turn over their bargains quickly, are busy all day long selling to shopkeepers and private householders. The houses in the neighbourhood have been, from the earliest days of the colony, occupied by traders of this class, or by sea-faring people, stevedores, wharf labourers, ships’ carpenters and lodging-house keepers, with of course a due supply of public-houses and retail shops. But a great change is rapidly coming over this part of Sydney. Some of the most primitive and dilapidated tenements have been closed or pulled down by the orders of successive mayors, who periodically promenade the town, and condemn as unfit anything below the present standard of what is suitable for human habitation. Even where there has been no such municipal mandate, the mere increase in the value of land has led to the removal of many of the ancient structures and the substitution of new and commodious stores.

The business part of Sydney —practically a peninsula —is pinched in, and the rapid increase of commerce has created a demand for mercantile premises. Persons who cannot afford the high prices asked in George Street have sought suitable sites in these back streets. Artisans go out into the suburbs, to which there is now convenient access by tram or railway, and warehouses now rise where cottages once stood. Among the wharves, and nearly behind St. Philip’s Church, were erected the first gasworks. The business of the establishment —still conducted by a company —has outgrown the cramped position which was ample for its first beginnings; new and larger works have been constructed at Mortlake, on the Parramatta River, six miles from the centre of the city. On the top of the hill, looking down on the site of the old gasworks, was built in the early days a naval hospital, in the solid, heavy style of architecture which seems to have been favoured at that time. Many years ago it was turned into a model school, and is used for that purpose still. Another Government establishment, the barracks, occupied a large area between George Street and York Street, but when, in course of time, the ground grew to be too valuable for this purpose, it was given to the local govern merit on condition that new and larger barracks were built on the Paddington Road. Barrack Street, which runs up by the side of the Bank of New South Wales, is a reminiscence of the purpose to which the land was originally put. Wynyard Square was retained as a reserve when the old barrack ground was subdivided into allotments, and still remains as one of the pleasant lungs of Sydney. Before it was improved, it was a site on which the hustings for the elections for West Sydney were erected, and was witness to many a fierce display of political oratory. The hustings having been transferred to the Town Hall enclosure, the square was railed in and planted with trees and flowers. The breaking up of the old barracks was a great improvement to Sydney, because it made the business part of George Street on the west side continuous.

The new shops built on the old barrack-ground, though now more than forty years old, were at the time of their erection a great improvement to Sydney and still contrast favourably with the shops on the opposite side. But farther up the street stands the new Post Office —one of the finest buildings in the city. It runs through to Pitt Street, and its longest facade looks on a narrow connecting lane, the frontages to the two main streets being comparatively short. It is built of Pyrmont sandstone, but the massive pillars supporting the long colonnade are of polished granite. From the centre of the building rises a handsome tower, the loftiest in Sydney. A little beyond is King Street, a scene of busy traffic, leading up as it does to the Court-house, and being also an omnibus route to Woolloomooloo. The high ground on the summit of this street, on which it is intended to erect some grand public edifice, is at present occupied by inferior buildings.

From King Street to Park Street, George Street remains very much what it was fifty years ago, but every here and there new shops of modern style are taking the place of the old buildings. At Park Street the ground reaches its greatest elevation, and here on a commanding site stand, side by side, the Town Hall and the Cathedral; the former being built on the site of an old burying-ground. The Town Hall is a handsome structure, though somewhat too florid in its style of architecture.

The Cathedral was planned fifty years ago, and is now too small; but it is a fine specimen of the Gothic, and contrasts not unfavourably with the Italian edifice by its side. They both stand central and dominant in the city —the street here having widened out to a hundred and fifty feet —and are relieved by small shrubberies and lawns. Beyond the Cathedral, George Street descends the slope of Brickfield Hill, the street continuing broad, though irregular in its alignment. It Is a district of shops of the less fashionable order. But at the foot of the hill on the Haymarket flat is the great establishment of Messrs. Anthony Hordern and Sons —a Sydney imitation of Whiteley’s in London. From the Haymarket, George Street rises steeply towards the railway station, before reaching which Pitt Street converges into it at a sharp angle.

Though running parallel to George Street, and at no great distance from it, Pitt Street was in the early days cut off by the Tank Stream, nor was it continued, as it is now, north ward to the Quay, but turned off at Hunter Street. The mouth of the Tank Stream, in its natural formation, opened out, and what is now known as Macquarie Place, was once a waterside street following the direction of the east bank. It was not till after the flat ground at the mouth of the stream was filled in that Pitt Street was continued straight from Hunter Street to the Circular Quay. The line of the street, as thus completed, not only gives a better gradient from the Quay all the way to the Bathurst Street ridge, but it affords, in a very striking way, a close connection between the city and the ships, for, looking down Pitt Street, the masts of the great vessels are seen, and behind them the green hills of the North Shore. "The ships seem lying in the streets" is sometimes the remark of visitors, and they do lie actually alongside the street, for the western side of the Quay is only a continuation of it, and the traveller is driven in his hansom from his hotel to the gangway of the ocean liner, which hauls off from the wharf, and goes straight away to sea. Walking up this street from the wharf, the visitor notes on both sides the offices of shipping agents’ importers, steamship companies, brokers and insurance agents.

At the intersection of Bridge Street is the Exchange, erected by a mercantile corporation on a site granted by the Government. It was built many years ago, and has answered its purpose; but though a fine structure, is flow dwarfed by the taller premises surrounding it. A large hotel stands in the rear, and is part of the property; it having been found that luncheon was a necessary sequel to the exchange hour. Handsome offices occupy both sides of the street beyond this point; the premises built for the Australian Mutual Provident Society, the Oriental Bank, and the Pacific Insurance Company being prominent for their architectural merit. At one corner of Hunter Street stands the office of the Sydney Morning Herald—the oldest and largest newspaper in the colony. Opposite are the premises of the Union Bank, once thought to be a credit to the city, but now completely eclipsed by the grander buildings of the more modern banks. On the other two corners stand large buildings belonging to insurance companies. From this point to King Street, the new buildings are lofty, the value of the land compelling proprietors to find in height compensation for narrowness. Among the stone structures Vickery’s Buildings and the handsome offices of the Messrs. Dalton are the most striking while in brick and cement the stores of Messrs. Hoffnung, tower over all others, and even dwarf the Post Office, which runs through from George Street. At the corner of King Street is Trickett’s Hotel, so named after the oarsman who was once champion of the world, and at the intersection of Market Street is the long range of the Messrs. Farmer’s drapery establishment, opposite which is the newest and largest theatre in Sydney.

Beyond this point Pitt Street is chiefly characterised by horse bazaars, furniture rooms, and the shops of miscellaneous trades, though a little further on new and handsome structures are rapidly rising; this part is undergoing a thorough transformation, but over the Bathurst Street ridge, and descending towards the Haymarket valley, it still wears a good deal of its ancient character. The School of Arts was established in this quarter many years ago and still holds its old position, though reconstructed to meet its growing needs.

The Tank Stream was the early dividing line between East and West Sydney. A bridge thrown over it at high-water mark was the first connecting link between the two parts, and gave rise to Bridge Street, which, by a happy accident, is one of the few broad thoroughfares of the city, though unfortunately it is not in line with the equally broad thoroughfare of Charlotte Place on the opposite side of George Street. But in those early days hardly anyone seems to have thought of laying out the city on a symmetrical plan. Bridge Street now contains some fine mercantile buildings, its proximity to, the shipping as well as to the commercial centre making it a good position for offices. On the eastern side of the old stream, which is now a covered sewer, begins a quarter much occupied with Government offices, and this characteristic feature is a survival from the earliest days. When Governor Phillip first landed, his canvas hut was put up on the eastern side of the stream, while the convicts were landed on the other; and thus, while commercial Sydney made its start from the latter point, official Sydney had its centre near the Governor’s first residence. Traces of this are still to be seen in the direction of the streets, which radiate outwards from this old central point; O’Connell Street and Spring Street going towards the stream, and Bent Street sloping upwards in an opposite direction towards Macquarie Street. An early Government House was built here, and here too stands the obelisk from which the length of all streets and roads is measured. Official Sydney has clung to this locality ever since, although it is no longer central. The ground has become very valuable for commercial purposes, but the new and magnificent buildings that have lately been erected, as well as the proximity of the viceregal residence, seem likely to fix this permanently as the Government quarter. The Government reserve originally came down to Macquarie Place, and of this the obelisk triangle is a small remnant. At the corner of this little patch of green grass and shady trees stands the statue of Thomas Sutcliffe Mort, the first of the city merchants thus honoured, and one who well deserved the distinction. His name has already been mentioned in connection with the great wool store on the Circular Quay; it was he too who first established a private graving dock, and the great engineering works necessary for the repair of ships visiting the port. In another page mention will be made of his rural enterprise in a great cheese farm at Bodalla on the southern coast, while for years he laboured under the greatest discouragements at working out the problem of freezing meat —a problem successfully solved just as his career closed. His name was prominent in almost every department of industry; he was also a strong and liberal supporter of religion, art, and culture, and had a deep sympathy with everything that could promote the welfare of the great mass of the people. His life and career won for him the affectionate respect of his contemporaries, and when he died the movement to honour his memory was spontaneous. On the opposite side of the street to Mort’s Statue is the handsome new building erected for the Lands Department, and farther up on the same side are the offices for the Colonial Secretary and the Minister for Public Works. At the northern corner is the Treasury, a handsome building, though it looks small now in comparison to the more recent and stately piles in its neighbourhood. A vacant space in the rear has been turned into a temporary tram terminus, which by no means improves the general appearance of the street; but the engineers seized upon it as the only piece of ground suitable for their purpose, and it is a scene of busy activity from morning to night. The area is insufficient, but by dint of good management, the tramcars are incessantly entering, shunting, and departing, from early dawn to midnight. These street tramways are an institution in Sydney, and though everybody condemns their ugliness and admits their danger, the public could not now do without them. The first was constructed in the year of the International Exhibition, to take travellers from the Redfern railway terminus to a point near the Domain gate. It was found so convenient and so profitable that the Government was besieged with entreaties to extend the system into the various suburbs. This has been done till the profit has disappeared, but the convenience to suburban residents has been immense, and, until suburban railways are made, Sydney will not part with its tramway’s.

The streets are really too narrow for the system and the terminus is altogether too cramped, but the Government has to do the best it can. Horse tramways would be unequal to the traffic on such gradients except on some of the branch lines; on the steep incline of the North Shore an experiment has been made with a cable tramway.

Bridge Street terminates opposite the entrance gate to Government House making thus a bold and handsome approach to the viceregal residence. Macquarie Street is an eastern boundary to this part of the city, one side of it being all public reserve; in fact, was partly carved out of the original Domain, which was pushed back to this line The northern end is almost wholly devoted to wool stores, which have one face to it and another to the Circular Quay. South of the lodge gates Macquarie Street is devoted to private residences, and makes a street-front equal in beauty to that of any city in the world. The windows of the houses look out on the Domain and the harbour beyond, the balconies commanding all the moving panorama of the daily fleet of incoming and outgoing vessels, while the sea breeze comes up fresh and cool. Indeed, it would be difficult to find any-where so charming a residential street so close to the centre of the commercial operations of a great city.

The original Macquarie Street began at the corner of Bent Street, where stands the Free Public Library. In the Domain are the Parliament Houses, the old Infirmary, and the Mint. The first-named is a very plain building, which has been added to from time to time to meet the demand for increased accommodation, and is therefore an architectural jumble. Designs for a grand structure have been prepared, but Parliament has been more liberal to the Civil Service than to itself, and is still content with its old quarters. The front of the Infirmary was pulled down some years ago, having become unfit for hospital purposes. Plans for a new and costly structure were prepared and partly carried out, when with a change of administration came a change of policy. Objections were made to putting a large hospital so close to the populous parts of the city, or on so small a piece of ground, and the work of building was suspended. The Mint was an adaptation of an old building and the front is in the antiquated style of the Macquarie age of architecture. The end of the street opens out into one of the very few broad open spaces that Sydney possesses. The old and ugly Immigration Barracks occupy a site on the east —a noble and commanding position, on which a new public building is to be erected. On the other side stands St. James’ Church—a characteristic red brick building of the old style —and next to it the Supreme Court, also plain and dingy, soon to be superseded by something more befitting the site. At the rear of the court is the Registrar-General’s office, where are kept all the archives relating to births, deaths and marriages, all statistical documents, and the deeds and ledgers connected with the registration of titles to land.

Macquarie Street was formerly continued through Hyde Park, but it was closed and turned into a broad promenade, the street traffic being deflected to the east along College Street past St. Mary’s Cathedral, which, though still incomplete, is the grandest piece of ecclesiastical architecture in Sydney. In a line with this specimen of Gothic —though separated from it by intervening park land —is the Museum, an imposing structure in the Grecian style, and on a commanding site.  It stands at the corner of William Street —the great artery of traffic for Woolloomooloo, Darlinghurst, and the waterside suburbs beyond. The road, following the old inconvenient gradient, runs down into the valley and still more steeply up to the ridge beyond. In the early days this ridge was faced by a cliff, a portion of which still remains, forming one of the curious features of this part of Sydney. Victoria Street North runs along the top of the old cliff, the back windows of the houses on its western side looking down upon the mass of dwellings in the Woolloomooloo valley below. Streets up this steep cliff there are none, but flights of stone steps give a pathway for foot passengers. From the top of these stairs a good view is obtained of a portion of the city, for the eye ranges over the whole of Woolloomooloo Bay, up the western slope of the Domain to Hyde Park and the lofty buildings beyond.