enduring fashion throughout its entire length of shore, and such
splendid ships as the _Moldavia_, of the P. & O., the _Orontes_, of
the Orient-Royal Mail, and the huge ships of the North German Lloyd's
lie close alongside as if in dock, while all along the Circular Quay
to the Darling Harbour Bridge there is splendid wharfage for the big
steamships of Messrs. Howard Smith & Co., the Union Steamship Company
of New Zealand, and the A.U.S.N. Co., in whose hands are practically
concentrated the Inter-colonial (or, as they prefer to call it, the
Inter-state) trade. Here is to be found a most wonderful development
of Australasian energy, and it is especially a credit to Sydney, which
has always taken the lead in shipping matters out here, although there
is something very wonderful in the rise and progress in the Union
Steamship Company of New Zealand. The vessels to be found lying at
these wharves would be a credit to any country and any trade in the
world for size, speed, and comfort of passengers. They are equipped not
merely for coastal trade, but for a whole-world trade, some of them
being far finer in every way than the liners from home were twenty
years ago.
However, in spite of the development in the shipping trade and the
rise in power of the shipping companies, there has been practically no
falling-off in the status of the men who do the work. In this favoured
land Jack is no inarticulate helot, doomed to spend his strength for
the benefit of others, and take just what they choose to fling him
contemptuously in return. The seafarers here are a highly organised
body, able and willing to speak with the enemy in the gate, and the
conditions under which they live are little, if any, inferior to any
enjoyed by their fellow-workers ashore. The standard wages for seamen
is £6 10s. per month, with, of course, an eight hours' day when in
port, and a shilling per hour overtime, while firemen and trimmers get
30s. and 10s. per month more respectively. And the food is not merely
good and plentiful, it is excellent, and lavish in its profusion. It
should be, of course, this being the land of plenty, especially in the
matter of eatables. Altogether, I should be inclined to say positively
that in no part of the world is the seafarer so well off in every
respect as in Australasia, and certainly there is nowhere in the world
where the seafarer has so much Parliamentary and Governmental influence
at work for his benefit--influence which is energised by the fact that
the men who use it are mostly men who have had practical experience of
a seafaring life themselves.
I know I shall be confronted with a question as to whether I do not
consider the position of the workers in vessels on the great American
lakes superior to any others. Well, I know of those conditions, highly
democratic as they are, and I unhesitatingly say that they are far
inferior to those obtaining in Australasia. Assuming that the Lake
business is seafaring at all and not ferrying on a fairly large scale,
it must be remembered that, as in every other American institution,
the men are the victims of corrupt combinations, that they cannot have
good food because it does not exist--that is, according to our ideas
of what constitutes good, wholesome food--and lastly, that while the
wages are not higher, navigation is closed throughout the long and
terrible winter by ice. Then the prudent worker lives on his savings,
the imprudent majority starve or join the ranks of the hoboes, or fight
for charity, as do the other victims of that terrible city, Chicago, to
which place the great majority of the vessels belong. No, there is no
comparison between the two services possible.
And yet, in spite of these favourable conditions, there are always
efforts being made for further improvements. I have just received
a Parliamentary paper, the Report of the Royal Commission on the
Navigation Bill for the Commonwealth of Australia, and its terms made
me rub my eyes. Here are all the possible grievances, limitations,
and disabilities of the seafarer set forth in judicial and impartial
language by men who obviously know what they are talking about,
and who have no fear of shipping papers, living upon shipowners'
advertisements, attacking them, and defaming their characters, as some
of the reptiles do who write for some of the shipping papers at home.
Of course we hear the same story out here that always sounds so cynical
to me, of shipowners being driven out of business by the incessant
demands of the men for decent treatment, which it is impossible to
grant and pay dividends, but we do not read here, as we so often may
at home, of these impoverished shipowners dying and leaving fortunes of
hundreds of thousands of pounds.
In view of this satisfactory condition of things, I am extremely
delighted to see that the Report already referred to contains a strong
recommendation to the Government to reserve the coasting trade of
Australasia to itself, excluding all oversea coming vessels of every
other nation. One blot upon this sensible suggestion is, that it is
proposed to treat British-owned vessels as foreigners, which is a
blunder, especially in view of the tremendous fact that the British
Navy constitutes the only defence against foreign aggression that
Australasia possesses. And yet it is difficult to justify our claim to
come upon the coast from England with our poorly paid men and much more
cheaply run ships, which, after discharging their outward cargo, may go
from port to port all around Australasia, carrying Inter-state freight
and passengers in unfair competition with Australasian-owned vessels.
But I feel sure that a compromise could be arrived at in our case--must
be.[2] As for the Germans and French and Japanese and Americans,
who so rigidly exclude all other nations from participating in what
they call their coasting trade--from New York to the Philippines,
for instance--they should not be allowed to carry an ounce of cargo
or a single passenger from one Inter-state port to another under any
pretext. Germany, for instance, which pays the Nord-Deutscher Lloyd
£115,000 a year subsidy for its line to Australia, on condition that
it does not bring Australian produce to Germany! That is the sort of
country that needs a lesson in retaliation--a lesson that I rejoice to
see our Southern brethren have the wisdom to compile and the pluck to
put into practice.
But all this time the _Ortona_ is lying at anchor off Sydney Cove,
for her meeting ship, the _Oroya_, is at her wharf, and so there must
be a transshipment of passengers into a tender for conveyance ashore.
This delay, which fills me with joy as affording ample opportunity for
observing the changes of which I have been writing, seems to goad many
of my unhappy fellow-passengers to madness, one especially who dressed
himself with great care for going ashore at 7 a.m., and has ever since
breakfast been carrying a case of golf-clubs and a small valise about,
being specially incensed at the delay. I may say in passing, that I
arrived at my hotel at the same time as this gentleman, who, having
seen his room, descended to the lounge and lolled there all the rest of
the day--which thing is mysterious, but usual with fussy folks.
Every berth at Circular Quay was filled with a big steamship, and I
noticed that, as in Liverpool, Prince's landing-stage is the exchange,
as it were, from whence all the ferry steamers to the Cheshire
shore radiate, so here at the head of Circular Quay are the same
conditions in full force. Quite a fleet of fine fast boats run from the
comfortable series of piers to the various points across the harbour,
and for the same ridiculously small fares. The boats are naturally not
so large as at Liverpool, but they are beautifully built, engined,
and kept, and I noticed with great pleasure that they were almost
without exception produced locally. As a very large number of Sydney's
workers live in the beautiful suburbs across the bay, or bays, the
morning and evening traffic is very great, as, of course, it is also at
holiday-times; for your Sydney folks are not only intensely proud of
their harbour, but they use it, enjoy it on every possible occasion.
On landing I found another profound likeness to Liverpool, in that the
great electric car system in that city centres upon the pier-head,
that is the landing-stage, so here I found a congeries of electric
cars arriving from and departing to all parts, their common centre
being Circular Quay. But the difference between Sydney and Melbourne
is very great--greater indeed than can be described; it is to be felt
immediately on landing. Sydney is a typically English city, with
tortuous streets, not too wide, and wonderfully irregular buildings--a
city which has grown up as our home cities have, and shows no sign of
regular planning as do Melbourne and Adelaide, especially the former,
which is as faultlessly regular as Philadelphia, only, of course, on a
much smaller scale. And so, in spite of the long time which has elapsed
since my last visit, fully twenty-six years ago, I feel at home at
once but for one thing--those trolley-cars. What it is I cannot tell,
but never before have I seen the overhead system so full of offence
as it is here. The cars are of the American type, entered at the side
and with no seats on top, and on routes where the traffic is heavy
three of them will be linked together, in order to make them hold as
many as one of our huge London conduit cars. But the nerve-wrenching,
horrible uproar that they make, for some unexplained reason or another,
is, in my experience, at least, unparalleled. I thought it would be
impossible for trolley-cars to make more row than those in Turin, but
that was due to banging of the badly laid metals, and to the drivers'
insane craving for performing on the huge gongs. But here the rails
do not jump up and down, nor do the drivers abuse their privilege of
gonging. They need not. The car itself makes a hideous combination of
uproars that puts every other sound out of court in its vicinity. All
conversation indoors and out must cease until it has passed, and even a
brass band in full blast is silenced.
It appears as if, since the conversion of the trams into electrics, the
City Fathers have not been able to agree upon the method of repaving
the streets, so that the roadways, after the magnificent paving and
grading of Melbourne's highways, give one a shock. They are frankly
very bad, and the fact that the great main thoroughfares of Pitt and
George Streets are only about half the width of Bourke and Collins
Street in Melbourne, aggravates this objectionable feature. Really, the
condition of Sydney thoroughfares is a great blot upon this beautiful
city, which ought to be removed as speedily as possible, since, as I
have often observed before, most people form their opinion of the
character of a newly visited city from the state of its roads. One
point, however, I specially noticed in the management of the street-car
lines which certainly puts us to shame at home. At converging and
intersecting comers there will be found a small kiosk, in which sits a
man whose duty it is to shift the points for cars going in different
directions. This he does by moving a little lever no bigger than a
man's finger, which at the same time shifts the points for a coming
car and shows a light at the summit of the kiosk, as a signal that the
road is clear. At home, as you all know, either the conductor or driver
has got to get down and shift the points by a clumsy manipulation of
a sliding knob of steel with a rod which he carries with him, or a
boy who sits shivering on a stool at the roadside comes and does it,
generally in imminent deadly peril of his life where the cars follow
one another rapidly. In addition, there is the utter inhumanity of
keeping these boys or men standing or sitting about in all the many
weathers of our inclement climate for many hours, laying up for
themselves an awful harvest of pain and misery by and by. The Sydney
system shows how this can all be avoided and bettered, and there is
absolutely no reason why it should not be followed at home.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] At the time of going to press with this book the Colonial
Navigation Conference has met, and these questions have been settled,
almost entirely in favour of the Colonies.
X
SOME FRIENDLY CRITICISM
Sydney is a city that grows upon a visitor immensely. Not merely from
its almost ideal situation as the commercial capital of a great and
growing country, or from the reminders which greet you on every hand
of the fight which its people have waged to make their city worthy
of its splendid environment, but from its amazing likeness to our
cities at home, and from the general air of _homeness_, if I may coin
a word, which pervades it. This one may say without any suggestion of
detriment or derogation of or to the other Australasian States, because
it comes as a natural consequence, Sydney being the Mother City of
them all. There is, I find, among Sydney-siders the same diffidence of
self-assertion that we have at home, with one exception--their harbour.
Don't, as you value your happiness, say a word of dispraise of Port
Jackson even in fun, it cannot be said in earnest. It will be taken
most seriously, and will certainly be accounted unto the utterer for
anything but righteousness. In other matters you may have your little
joke and find your friends not at all thin-skinned, but please don't
joke about the harbour.
Yet the citizens of Sydney need not fear comparison of their beloved
city with any other in the world, except, as I have said, in the matter
of the roads and the noise of the trolley-cars. The buildings are truly
splendid, the two chief, the Post Office and the Town Hall, being
certainly the finest in the whole of Australasia, and worthy to take
rank with any similar buildings at home. Indeed, it is nothing short
of marvellous how so comparatively small a population can manage to
erect and maintain such splendid buildings as these, and many others
which greet the eye on every hand. It has been said, and I believe
with truth, that the vast majority of the Australasian population is
to be found in the cities and towns on the seaboard, engaged in the
work of distributing the imports and exports. But if this be true,
what amazing energy must be manifested by the people "out back" who
produce, and what would be the condition of these cities if only they
had a population behind them able to cope with the teeming wealth
of the soil? Which raises again the eternal question of population
of this vast country--a country which has as yet only been played
with, but which has shown such immense productive capacity, that its
possibilities fairly stagger calculation, supposing them to be dealt
with intelligently.
That, however, seems past praying for--as yet, at any rate. Can you
imagine anything more unutterably foolish, short-sighted--oh! the
dictionary does not contain adjectives to fit the situation--than the
action of the Government which has been presented to all the world this
week? The Japanese squadron, of which I wrote in Melbourne, has arrived
here, and has been received with a perfect tempest of acclamations,
both by Press and people, with the sole exceptions of the _Bulletin_,
which in its charmingly witty and brilliant manner persistently refers
to the heroes of Port Arthur and Tsutshima as "monkeys," and one other
newspaper, of which I can only say that its publication is a disgrace
to New South Wales, and would be a disgrace to Paris, which is not
squeamish. At ball and banquet and reception the Japanese were rightly
received with immense enthusiasm--a reception they have earned by their
deeds, if ever men did. All honour to Australasia that, in spite of
its intense dread of and antipathy to the yellow people, has thus
recognised transcendent merit, both in civic and martial virtues. But
while these festivities were going on, there happened to enter Port
Jackson a certain steamship, the _Pacifique_, conveying six Japanese
passengers to Japan. They were to be transferred to the _Kumanu Maru_,
a fine mail steamer of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha, lying at the Circular
Quay, but as their period of waiting extended over three days, they
were naturally anxious to see the sights of Sydney and witness the
reception accorded to their countrymen. They were not allowed to land!
In spite of the fact that they were in transit, were clear of all
suspicion of disease or anything of the sort, they were forbidden to
set foot upon the sacred soil of Australia, where their naval heroes
were being treated as demigods. Comment here is impertinence, but it
may be pointed out that not one man in authority appeared to think
that possibly a few of the 2,000 Japanese who were being thus _fêted_
and made much of might be taking voluminous notes of this occurrence,
and compiling a bill to be presented in the near future. I ventured
to point this out to several influential people, who admitted that it
savoured of idiocy on the part of the powers that be, but also gave me
to understand that it was none of my business, and that when the time
came for that bill to be presented, they and the Australasian States
might be trusted to--although they didn't use these exact words--muddle
through it somehow. Which gave me quite a pang of home-sickness, for I
recognise the speakers as veritable chips of the old block.
Of course I know that these remarks will be fiercely resented, because
your Australasian (it will be noted that I no longer dare to say
Colonial), while intensely eager to criticise all the rest of the
world, is fully persuaded that no one has any right to criticise him,
or at least the doings in his particular State. This, of course,
implies that while you may in any one State criticise any other as
severely as you choose, you may not criticise Australasia as a whole.
This, equally, is very strange to an Englishman, who is so accustomed
to having the shortcomings of his own country held up to scorn by all
the rest of the world, and of calmly accepting the remarks made about
her, that he is amazed when an expression of candid opinion by himself
or his country's public men is taken as almost a personal insult.
The plain, unvarnished truth about the attitude of the Australasian
Colonies generally towards the Mother-country is that they are and
will be intensely loyal to her as long as they may do as they like
without any interference, which freewill they interpret to mean also
that if the Mother-country does anything to which they object they may
not only protest against it but repudiate it as not binding upon them.
That they may treat Britain in the matter of trade no better than any
foreign nation, while at the same time enjoying as of right all the
protection that the British Empire is capable of affording them, for
which they do not consider it incumbent upon them to give anything in
return. I asked a prominent editor out here the other day, who was very
strong in his remarks about the Old Country, what benefit he supposed
she derived from the Australasian Colonies. His answer will live in my
memory. He said, with an air of gracious condescension, "Why, we send
you all our produce!" I was so amazed, as well as amused, that I could
say nothing for a little while, and when I did it was merely to remark,
"That is an advantage, certainly; but whether to you or Britain is
another question."
Please let it be understood that in the foregoing I have been speaking
throughout of the professional politician, whom I cannot profess to
admire in whatever country he may happen to be, and not of the general
public, which is loyal, lovable, and level-headed. All the best
traditions of our dear land are carried on here, and it is almost
impossible for even the most nervous, morbidly sensitive man or woman
to feel themselves strangers. And what strikes one as being quite
touching is the way the Motherland is continually being spoken of
affectionately, regretfully as "Home." You will hear it on the lips of
grey-headed people who were born here (and it is surprising how many
of them you meet), and have never been out of the Colony, "Ah! how I
should like to go home for a trip." But the strangest of all is the way
in which foreigners, such as Germans, Italians, citizens of the United
States, &c., who have been domiciled out here for many years, will
speak of Great Britain as home in the same way as do the Australasians.
A remarkable feature of Sydney, as of Melbourne, is the way in which
the city has run over, so to speak, into suburbs; but there comparison
ends between the two. For Melbourne suburbs, fine, prosperous-looking
townships as most of them are, cannot be called beautiful, except where
they are on the Bay, the country around being so very flat. But Sydney
has every variety of scenery for which the heart could crave--hill
and vale, rock and wood, while no residential suburb need be more
than a few minutes from either one of many of the beautiful bays
which run into the country from the main harbour like the tentacles
of some gigantic but beneficent octopus, or the shore of the mighty
Pacific itself. And communication with all these places by steamer,
electric car, or train is at once cheap, rapid, frequent, and easy.
So that housing of Sydney folks is never likely to become a problem,
and overcrowding (although there are still a few slums) is entirely
unnecessary, and would not exist if a certain type of people did not
insist upon violating all hygienic laws and crowding together as
closely as they can get. There will always be overcrowding unless the
most drastic laws are passed to prevent it, as may be seen in any
English or Scotch village, where, goodness knows, there is room enough
and to spare, but the villagers persist in huddling their cottages
close enough together to step across the lane from the front door into
another opposite.