FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF AUSTRALIA
Mr. Hare's account of our August Party in 1890 mentions the reason of its
being the last for some time. My husband had been already offered the
Governorship of Bombay and would have liked it for many reasons, but was
obliged to decline as the climate might have been injurious after an
attack of typhoid fever from which he had not long recovered. He was then
appointed Paymaster-General, an unpaid office which he held for about a
year. The principal incident which I recollect in this connection was a
lengthened dispute between his Department and the Treasury over a sum of
either two pounds or two shillings--I think the latter--which had gone
wrong in an expenditure of thirty-five millions. In the end Jersey came to
me and triumphantly announced that the Paymaster-General's Department had
been proved to be in the right. How much paper, ink, and Secretary's time
had gone to this conclusion I cannot say. Postage being "On Her Majesty's
Service" would not come into the reckoning.
[Sidenote: WAR OFFICE RED TAPE]
We had one other experience of pre-war War Office methods, but that was
many years later. A rumour arrived in Middleton village that the soldier
son of one of our labourers had had his head blown off. As there was no
war proceeding at the time, we could not think how this accident had
happened, and went to ask the parents where their son was stationed. They
had no clear idea, but after a long talk remembered that they had
received a photograph of his regiment with the Pyramids in the background.
Armed with this information we approached the War Office and ultimately
elicited that the poor youth had not lost his head, but had died of fever
in Egypt, when arose the question of certain pay due to him. The War
Office, with an insatiable thirst for information, would pay nothing until
elaborate forms were filled up with the names and addresses of all the
brothers and sisters. These proved to be scattered over the face of the
Empire, and as the parents could neither read nor write, endless visits to
them were necessary before we could find out enough to fill in the forms.
Before this was accomplished I had to leave home and one of my daughters
took charge.
At last she wrote that the money was really being paid to the old father
and would be deposited in the Post Office. Knowing that he was very shaky,
I wrote back begging that she would get him to sign a paper naming his
heir, but before this was done he suddenly fell down dead, leaving the
money in the Post Office, and my daughter corresponded on alternate days
with the General Post Office and the War Office before she could get it
out. Then some more money was found to be due, and the War Office said
they could not pay it until they had certificates from the sexton and the
undertaker who had buried the poor old man. I was back by the time these
were procured, and lo and behold! one spelt his name Hitchcox and one
Hitchcocks. Foreseeing another lengthened correspondence, I enclosed the
form with a letter in Jersey's name vouching for the fact that they
referred to the same person but that the villagers spelt the name in two
different ways. Fortunately the War Office felt that they were now
sufficiently acquainted with the family biography and paid up. No wonder a
plethora of clerks was needed even in pre-war days.
To return to our own affairs. The late Lord Knutsford, then Colonial
Secretary, in the summer of 1890 asked my husband if he would accept the
Governorship of New South Wales, and he consented. Great stress was laid
on our not telling anyone before the Queen had approved, and we were most
conscientious, though I do not believe that other people keep such offers
equally secret from all their friends and relatives. It was rather
inconvenient as we wanted to invite my brother Rupert to accompany us as
A.D.C. and he was already committed to another appointment abroad. As soon
as the telegram announcing the Queen's approval arrived, I sent a footman
to look for him at two or three addresses saying that he must find Captain
Leigh somehow. He brought him back in triumph, having caught him in the
street. Lord Ancram and my cousin Harry Cholmondeley were the other
A.D.C.s, and George Goschen, now Lord Goschen, Private Secretary.
[Sidenote: BALMORAL]
Just before we were due to start, the Queen sent for us to Balmoral to say
good-bye. We there met amongst others the Duke of Clarence, the only time
I ever saw him, and I thought him a singularly gentle, modest young man.
Some old gentleman had lately left him a long gold and turquoise chain
which had belonged to Marie Antoinette. He told the Queen about it, and,
with genuine surprise, said he could not think why it had been left to
him. Her Majesty expressed the greatest interest in anything which had
belonged to Marie Antoinette, so he ran upstairs and brought it down for
his grandmother's inspection. He talked of his voyage to Australia, and
said he was sorry that he had been too young to appreciate all he had seen
as he should have done. I remember the late Admiral Lord Clanwilliam, who
had the supervision of the young Princes when they were on board the
_Bacchante_, saying that no boys had ever given him less trouble, and that
Prince George (the present King) was equal to boys a year older than
himself.
When we went to Australia Lord Hopetoun was already there as Governor of
Victoria, and Lord Kintore as Governor of South Australia, while Lord
Onslow reigned in New Zealand. These, like Jersey, had all previously been
Lords-in-Waiting to the Queen, and Her Majesty said to us, "As soon as I
get a nice Lord-in-Waiting Lord Salisbury sends him off to govern a
Colony"; to which my husband aptly replied, "You see, Ma'am, how well you
brought us up!" A remark rewarded by a gracious smile.
The Queen was indeed more than kind, and was very much upset when our
departure was delayed, just when all preparations were made, by my being
seized with an attack of typhoid fever. She telegraphed constantly, and
when the Court returned to Windsor sent a messenger daily to inquire. We
were told that her kind heart led her to imagine that my illness was
either caused or intensified by our having been summoned to Balmoral just
at the last minute, because she had forgotten that we were starting so
soon. Of course it had nothing to do with it, but the Queen was well aware
what typhoid fever meant. As she wrote to Jersey, she was "but too well
acquainted with this terrible illness not to feel anxious whenever any
relations or friends are suffering from it."
The result was that when I was convalescent Jersey had to start alone,
and I went with my children to spend Christmas at Stoneleigh, following
him in January. Lady Galloway was a true friend, for since our London
house was let she took me from Claridge's Hotel, where I was taken ill, to
her house in Upper Grosvenor Street and nursed me there for weeks.
Everyone was kind, Lady Northcote offering that I should take possession
of her house and have Lady Galloway there to look after me, but in the end
I stayed in Upper Grosvenor Street till I could move to Stoneleigh.
Christmas at Stoneleigh was an unexpected pleasure, and my parents,
brothers, and sisters did all they could to further my convalescence. An
addition to the family party was my brother Dudley's charming new American
wife, of whom he was intensely proud. When we greeted them or drank their
healths, however, in the course of the festivities he invariably prefaced
his words of thanks with "I and my wife" despite the laughing protests of
his auditors. On Twelfth Night we drew characters, with the
result--perhaps not quite fortuitous--that my eldest girl Margaret and her
youngest brother Arthur, aged seven, were Queen and King. Their healths
were duly drunk, and Arthur eagerly and emphatically responded, beginning
"My wife and I!"
Mrs. Dudley Leigh had been in her girlhood much admired in the Court of
Napoleon III and the Empress Eugenie. She was greatly attached to the
Empress and was one of the young ladies recorded in Filon's _Memoirs_ as
having helped to cheer the deposed monarchs in the first part of their
exile when they resided at Cowes.
Helene Leigh (then Beckwith) told me that she and her sister often went to
spend an evening with the Empress, who, as is well known, had a leaning
towards spiritualism and table-turning. The Emperor disliked the
experiments, and on one occasion begged them to stop. Presently he went to
bed and then Eugenie determined to resume. The table moved, and rapped out
"Janvier." The Empress asked what the date implied, and the answer came
"La Mort." In the following January the Emperor died. Personally none of
these coincidences convince me, as I have known automatic and other
prophecies which did not "come off." The Emperor was very ill and his
death must have seemed imminent to many present, but I allow that it is
curious that the date as remembered by my sister-in-law should have proved
accurate.
[Sidenote: FAREWELL TO ENGLAND]
At last I was considered well enough to start, and went off accompanied by
four children, two governesses and three servants, the rest of the
household having preceded us. We had a bitterly cold journey, and Lady
Galloway, who joined us in London and went with us across France and
Italy, had her work cut out to keep us warm and fed. She then went to stay
with some of her friends, having promised to visit us later in Australia.
It was very sad leaving all my family, and particularly my eldest boy
Villiers. He had to finish his time at Eton and was then to come to us
before going to Oxford. Everyone who has to leave children behind--and,
alas! that is the lot of only too many English parents--knows what it
means, and I will not dwell upon it.
All our friends were most sympathetic and helpful, and I was particularly
touched by Lord Derby's thoughtfulness. In his first letter on hearing of
the appointment he wrote: "You are a queen and an exile. Are you to be
congratulated or condoled with?..." He went on with serious words of
encouragement, and a little later took the trouble voluntarily to write
out for our use notes on Australia "founded on the reports of many friends
and on some experience of C. O."
Among his very shrewd remarks was:
"Distrust all informants who have been long away; things change
rapidly in those parts. And remember that the enriched colonist who
comes back with L10,000 a year to live in England does not in the
least represent the country in which his money was made."
Again he says that the Governor--
"Must spend his whole salary and something over. But it is a mistake
to suppose that mere outlay and splendid festivities will conciliate
goodwill--though they go a long way towards it. What the colonists
really wish and like is that the Governor should appreciate them, mix
in their amusements and apparently like to be among them."
Fortunately Jersey always liked to be among his fellow-men and understood
them, and the Australians soon found that out, and never forgot it. Also
Lord Derby truly said:
"The less a Governor interferes directly, the better; if his ministers
come to think that he desires so to do, they will tell him nothing; if
relieved from this fear, they will be glad enough to profit by his
experience and impartiality."
Many of Lord Derby's further comments are much to the point, but I only
cite one which is somewhat of a forecast:
"Schemes of imperial federation are not treated seriously by anybody,
but intercolonial federation is a growing idea, and likely to be
worked out, though still much opposed."
During our absence Lord Derby was an excellent correspondent and I may
refer to his letters later on.
[Sidenote: VOYAGE ON THE "ARCADIA"]
We sailed in the _Arcadia_, the same ship which had taken us to India,
with the same Captain Andrewes. The usual incidents of a long voyage were
not wanting--the natural effect on young men and women was exemplified in
the growing attachment of a very clever Australian Professor to our
English governess--an attachment which ultimately ripened to a wedding in
Australia, when Miss Mason became Mrs. Harry Allen. She is now Lady Allen,
and when the Prince of Wales visited Australia she sat at a banquet
between H.R.H. and the Governor-General, so our Australian experiences
were quite successful as far as she was concerned.
I do not recollect much of the other events on board ship, for I was still
not very strong and lived mostly with my children, in a nice large cabin
which the P. and O. had arranged for me. There was, however, one couple
who excited considerable interest--a youth who always appeared in spotless
white and a coloured sash, and a girl who wore white frocks, displaying
varied ribbons to match her admirer's. When we reached Ceylon passengers
were forbidden to send any washing ashore, as there was small-pox in
Colombo, and the young man went nearly frantic at being unable to refresh
his wardrobe. His fellow-passengers cruelly ragged him, and he was
reported to have run up and down in front of his cabin with a drawn sword.
I suppose the small-pox was only in the native quarters, for we were
allowed to land, to our great joy, had a delightful drive to Mount
Lavinia, where we saw the mango trick--not very impressive--had dinner at
the Colombo Hotel, and re-embarked for the longest and dullest part of our
voyage. The monotony of the nine days between Ceylon and Australia was
relieved in a manner more stirring than pleasant. We were met by a
cyclone, and had to go considerably out of our course to avoid its full
fury, but what we did encounter was quite bad enough and we were very
thankful when we sighted Australia.
We were fortunate during our sojourn in having the old friends whom I
previously mentioned, and their wives, as colleagues. Lady Hopetoun and
Lady Kintore were away when we landed, having been on a trip home; but
Lord Kintore met us at Adelaide and took us up for the day to his
beautiful house in the Mountains--Marble Hill--while Lord Hopetoun looked
after us with equal hospitality at Melbourne. We only stayed a few hours
at each place, as our great object was to reach our destination, which was
primarily the Governor's little country house, Hill View, situated in the
hills. Here I spent about a fortnight to rest and revive before going down
for the assembling of the Federation Convention at Sydney.
This was a very stirring introduction to Colonial life. (The words
"Colony" and "Colonial" are now taboo, but before Federation the present
Australian States were called "Colonies," and "Colonial" was freely used
by everyone!)
[Sidenote: THE FEDERATION CONVENTION]
Delegates from all the States were assembled in Sydney and most of them
had brought wives, so it was somewhat confusing to a new-comer to be at
once introduced to a number of people, however kindly disposed towards
her, whom she had never seen before, in totally novel surroundings. As far
as I recollect the initial banquet took place on the evening of my
arrival, March 1st, 1891. It was given in the Town Hall, a really fine
building in which we afterwards attended endless functions of all
descriptions. It was arranged that Lady Innes, wife of Sir George Innes, a
judge, should dine alone with me and accompany me to the Gallery to hear
the speeches after the banquet. All the guests courteously rose on my
arrival; my cousin Harry Cholmondeley escorted me, very magnificent in his
A.D.C.'s uniform. As the Cholmondeleys had been in the habit of acting
with us at Middleton, I felt very much as if I were taking part in private
theatricals.
The principal speeches were made by Jersey and the New South Wales
Premier, Sir Henry Parkes, who was the main promotor of Federation. Sir
Henry was a remarkable character in his way. He was the son of a small
farmer on my grandmother's property at Stoneleigh, where he attended the
village school, and his first pair of breeches was made by the village
tailor (the same parish clerk who made me find his places in church).
Henry Parkes emigrated to Australia, and a lady there told me how he kept
a sort of toy-shop and "fancy repository" where she could take her
umbrella to be mended. He became a Member of Parliament and almost an
autocrat. He had a fine head, like a shaggy lion, and was a good speaker,
though I fear that the education given him in Stoneleigh School had not
altogether overcome a certain difficulty with his "h's," and in the
transaction of business he was somewhat slow in thought. He was, however,
undoubtedly able and tenacious, and did a great deal for his growing
country. He was a trifle like the German Kaiser in his desire for his
city's progress in art, and had filled the National Park and the Botanic
Gardens with statues and busts more notable for quantity than
quality--but the intention was good, though the expenditure was large. I
believe that he had originated the motto of the Federation: "One People,
One Destiny."
Jersey's speech was extremely well received, though his reference to the
Union of the Saxon Heptarchy as precursor to that of the Australian States
enabled one of the papers to indulge next day in witticisms. It declared
that it had greatly perplexed the audience, some thinking that "Heptarchy"
was the name of one of His Excellency's ancestors who had fought at
Crecy--others that it was a kind of cake!
[Sidenote: THE DELEGATES]
Next day began the serious work of the Convention. Delegates were present
from the six Australian Colonies; there were also three New Zealanders,
including the celebrated Sir George Grey, who held a "watching brief" to
see what the Australians were doing, though New Zealand had no intention
of federating with the others. She was quite right, for although in those
days people were apt to think of New Zealand as part of "Australasia," she
is too far off and too different in origin and natural conditions to form
a portion of what is a very distinct continent.
No doubt the most intellectual and probably efficient member of the
Convention was the President, Sir Samuel Griffith, Chief Justice of
Queensland and afterwards Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia. It
is not for me to attempt a summary of the debates and of all the questions
to which they gave rise, naturally the most difficult being the relations
between the States. No doubt the result ultimately achieved did credit to
the statesmanship of many who took part. Probably the weakest point was
leaving to the separate States every power not expressly transferred to
the Commonwealth; in Canada everything not expressly reserved to the
Provinces went to the Dominion, which certainly tends to closer union.
However, this is looking a good deal ahead.
One of the points which seemed to add interest, perhaps dignity, to the
convention was the great size of the delegates. They averaged over six
feet in height, and I really forget how many pounds avoirdupois in
weight--but something quite remarkable. Australian legislators were
undoubtedly of sturdy growth, and whatever else they favoured had a great
predilection for tea. I sometimes attended debates in New South Wales
Parliament. My husband was precluded from doing so, but members seemed to
think it rather a compliment that I should be present. However exciting
the discussion, and whoever the orator, as sure as six o'clock struck a
cry of "Tea, tea, tea!" arose from all sides of the house, and out rushed
everybody to refresh himself before returning to duty.
The great antagonist to Sir Henry Parkes was Mr., afterwards Sir George,
Dibbs. He was an immense man, who had had a varied career, but was
generally esteemed for his direct and downright honesty. When in his turn
he became head of the Government he was noted as the first Australian-born
Premier. When we first arrived in the Colony he was supposed to have
Republican tendencies, but these seemed gradually, indeed rapidly, to
evaporate. While we were in Australia he paid his first visit to England,
where many prominent people, including our family and friends, paid him
much attention. The final touch was put by the Prince of Wales (afterwards
King Edward), who had discovered his liking for a big cigar, and with
unfailing tact he gave him one to smoke. Dibbs said, "No, he should keep
it," whereupon the Prince replied that he was to smoke that, and he would
give him another. Of course this got into the Sydney papers, and when the
traveller returned the street boys used to shout out, "Geordie, where's
the cigar the Prince of Wales gave you?"
The papers afforded us endless amusement during his trip. They used to
come out with heavy headlines. "Dibbs meets one King--several Princes,"
etc. "Dibbs visits the Queen," and on one occasion, mixed up with it all,
"Lady Leigh desires that Dibbs should bring out Lord Jersey's son." _The
Bulletin_ had a wicked page of drawings caricaturing Parkes' wrath as he
read these items.
Dibbs returned a rabid imperialist. I said to him one day, "I suppose that
talk of republicanism was only your fun?" "Only my fun," was his hasty
reply.
The Chief Justice, Sir Frederick Darley, and his delightful wife and
family were among our greatest friends. Sir Frederick was a tall, handsome
man; his resemblance to my father was often noticed by those who knew them
both. Lady Darley was a very cultivated woman, sister to Rolf Boldrewood,
author of _Robbery under Arms_, whose real name was Thomas Browne.
Lady Darley was great at "spirit-drawing"--a power in which she quite
honestly believed. It was curious, but I think instinctive. She would take
a pencil between her fingers, and talk and look about the room while the
pencil drew shading on a sheet of paper. Ultimately the shading would
evolve a large head with no outline but the shadow. Once when in after
years the Darleys were staying at Middleton Lady Darley showed her powers
at my request, and another lady who was among our guests confided to me
afterwards that she had produced an exact portrait of a relative long
since dead who had held my friend in great affection. I am certain that
Lady Darley did not know of this person's existence--the result must be
left between telepathy and imagination! Anyhow, these mystic powers never
interfered with Lady Darley's care for her family and for her duties to
the community--she was a real influence for good. She and Sir Frederick
have now passed away, but some of their daughters live in England and are
still among our friends.
[Sidenote: THE BLUE MOUNTAINS]
Sir Frederick had built a charming house in the Blue Mountains called
Lilianfels after a daughter who had died in youth. It was situated on a
high plateau among most romantic scenery--deep ravines and almost
inaccessible, thickly wooded valleys. One of these valleys plays a leading
part in _Robbery under Arms_, the bushranging hero Starlight having his
lair among the rocks. A railway had been made to this high ground,
twisting and turning in extraordinary fashion, tradition said because the
engineer wanted to pay constant visits to an innkeeper's daughter at a
house somewhere on the way. Once at Katoomba, beyond which lay Lilianfels,
the difficulty for the pedestrian would not be to scale mountains, but to
descend into the valleys, and in our time not many people attempted it.
Tourists, however, came up to admire the splendid views and the
picturesque waterfalls, and to visit the famous Jenolan caves in the same
neighbourhood.
The whole formation of the valleys and caves showed that this part of the
mountain-range had been in bygone ages cliffs washed by the sea. The
Jenolan caves were long labyrinths full of stalactites and stalagmites of
wonderful forms and colours. About two miles had been opened up when we
were there, doubtless much more has since become accessible. Some of us
climbed down a primitive iron ladder to view a mystical underground river,
source unknown. I seized on it with joy for a child's story which I
published later on.
I believe that there is now a fine hotel near the caves, but when we spent
a night there we found a very primitive hostelry; and as we were a party
of nine, including the Duchess of Buckingham and her cousin Miss Murray, I
am afraid we left little accommodation for other arrivals. We were
unconscious of the inconvenience to which we were putting them until some
time afterwards, when a little publication was sent us anonymously. It
appears that a public room which had been allotted to us as a dining-room
had been turned into a bedroom for two travellers after we had retired.
Now this hotel was strictly Pussyfoot, and my husband, having been warned,
had brought his own wine for our Party. He left two bottles in the room,
and our successors frankly confessed that they had carried them off in
triumph and shared the contents with their companions without saying where
they had found them. The writer in the account sent us said that he did
not imagine that the Governor knew how he had hampered the other guests
and did not suppose that he realised the fate of his wine until he read
this account. I must say that we were more amused than annoyed! All this
happened long after our landing in the country, but thinking of the
Darleys recalls our visit to my memory.
[Sidenote: SIR ALFRED STEPHEN]
The Chief Justice in each Colony was a great personality, and in due
course Sir Frederick became in addition Lieutenant-Governor, succeeding in
that office dear old Sir Alfred Stephen, who held it when we arrived. Sir
Alfred was a member of the English family which has given so many
distinguished luminaries to the Bar, and he worthily upheld their
traditions at the Antipodes. He had been in Tasmania before settling in
New South Wales, had been twice married, and had had nine children by each
wife, nine born in each Colony, and, if I remember rightly, nine sons and
nine daughters in all. With sons, daughters, sons-in-law,
daughters-in-law, and other relatives his connections played such a
prominent part in Sydney society that my A.D.C. brother found it advisable
to devote certain pages in the Government House invitation book to "Sir
Alfred Stephen's family," instead of entering them in the usual
alphabetical lists.
Sir Alfred was a delightful and intellectual man with great devotion to
philanthropic schemes. On one point only I was disposed to differ from
him--namely, he was extremely anxious to facilitate divorce and was much
too serious in the matter to see the comic side of some of the American
reasons for separation. Quite late in life, after being nearly bald his
hair began to grow again, and he proudly called attention to his newly
flowing locks.
I cannot name all the Ministers. Some had (much to their credit) risen
from quite lowly positions; others like Sir Frank Suttor, belonged to old
Australian families--indeed while we were in Australia a child of the
sixth generation was born to the Suttors, quite a record in such a young
country.
The general rule was while in Sydney the Governor and his wife could only
receive private hospitality from the Chief Justice, Lieutenant-Governor,
Admiral commanding the Station, and the Anglican and Roman Catholic
Primates. Apart from these they could attend any ball or function given
by, I think, six joint hosts--as for instance the Squatters' Ball, a Club
dinner, or a Charity Entertainment. It was a wise rule on the whole, as it
would have been exceedingly difficult to discriminate among hosts and
hostesses without giving offence; and personally I was very glad that the
Ministers and their wives should not have been even indirectly called upon
to entertain us, as most of them were anything but rich, and yet had one
begun the custom others might have felt bound to follow. Up the country it
was different--when we visited the different Districts for agricultural
shows, opening of school buildings, or general inspections, it was fully
recognised that prominent people should receive us, and I cannot say
enough of their kindness and hospitality.
Indeed, open-handed hospitality was the rule in Australia, and the
squatters and landowners, such as Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, Dr. and Mrs. Hay,
and many others of our hosts and friends, seemed never to regard their own
convenience if they could make their guests happy.
Among the oldest families was that of Mrs. Macarthur Onslow, whose
ancestor had introduced merino sheep into New South Wales, and who
was--and is--universally respected in the State.
[Sidenote: DOMESTIC CONDITIONS]
Looking back on our various expeditions, I realise that our visits must
often have been no small tax in remote places and in houses where servants
were necessarily few. Quite rich people, having to our knowledge lands and
flocks bringing in thousands a year, would have only three or four
servants--the daughters of the house would do much of the work, and
visitors would be quite prepared to help in making butter and cakes. A
good deal that had been said in England about the splendid times which
servants had overseas struck me on nearer observation as capable of being
looked at from quite another point of view. For instance, much was made at
one time of maid-servants having horses to ride. When the nearest town was
perhaps fifteen or twenty miles off, when a horse cost L5 or L10, was
never groomed, and when the rider himself or herself caught and saddled
him as wanted, riding was not such an exceptional privilege.
Again, it was true that wages were about double what they were in England,
but accommodation was much rougher, and servants were expected to help in
every department as required--no question of saying "that is not my
place." I am speaking of nearly thirty years ago, but certainly almost all
the servants whom we took out returned with us to England.
This also applies to any remarks about social conditions. As I said
before, Lord Derby was most regular in writing, and begged for any news
which I could send him. Having been Colonial Secretary, he retained great
interest in the Dominions. He told me in one letter that he was keeping
mine, as he thought they might be of use hereafter, and after his death a
number were returned to me. I have also preserved many of his; but looking
through them, both his and mine refer so largely to topics of the day in
both hemispheres that I hardly think that voluminous extracts can be of
much present interest.
[Sidenote: CORRESPONDENCE WITH LORD DERBY]
I, however, quote a few. In one of his first letters he says:
"Writing to Australia is no easy matter. What can one say to a friend
who has met with reverses? And surely there is no greater reverse in
life than being turned upside down. Does it pay to be a constitutional
monarch turned wrong-side up?"
To which I replied:
"Your reversed friend was delighted to get your letter; though, as my
little boy says when told that he is upside down, 'No, we are standing
straight, it is the people in England who are standing on their heads
now,' which shows that he is rapidly imbibing Australian theories, and
believes that whatever be the follies of the Old World, we in New
South Wales must be all right."
I do not think that I felt upside down, but nevertheless I had from time
to time the feeling of having been buried and dug up again. Born and
brought up in a very old house, and having both lived and travelled almost
entirely among what was ancient, it was a strange experience to live where
there were no relics of an Old World, and hardly any spot where history
had been made in the long ago. On the other hand, Australia looked bravely
forward, and was, and is, building for the future. As Lord Derby put it in
another letter:
"I trust you enjoy colonial society and antipodean politics which at
least have the charm of greater hopefulness than we can indulge in in
this used up old country."
Some of his accounts might almost have been written to-day; for instance,
July 1891:
"The Labour party seems quite as lively with you as it is here.
Questions of that class will play a considerable part at the coming
elections, and many candidates who call themselves conservative will
swallow pledges more than half socialistic."
And again in November:
"Speeches are constantly made but seldom read. England is sick of the
Irish question (!) but has no other ready to put in its place. Claims
for shorter hours and higher wages are rising in every trade and
business, and this is the only subject that really touches public
opinion; it is not, however, an easy one for candidates to make
capital out of, for opinion in the electoral masses has not pronounced
in favour of or against a compulsory eight hours; which is the main
question in dispute. The cat has not jumped yet, when it does pledges
and opinions will be swallowed, and a dishonest scramble will follow."
Many cats have jumped since then, but the main outlines of politics are
not essentially different.
I confess that I was impressed by the extent to which the problem of the
unemployed existed in a country with apparently limitless possibilities.
Meetings of these men took place constantly near the Queen's Statue during
1892, and perhaps a portion of a letter which I wrote to Lord Derby may be
worth recording as at least a first-hand impression of what took place at
the time.
"As to the unemployed, they present the usual features of the class,
somewhat intensified by local colour. A kind Government not only
provides a free Labour Bureau to meet their case, but has obtained for
them certain buildings belonging to the Municipality as sleeping and
smoking-rooms, and to the 'married destitute' is now distributing
orders for free rations. I understand that about 9,000 entered their
names on the books of the Labour Bureau, but only some 200 have so far
proved themselves qualified for free rations. What I am, however,
trying hard to make out is why, when everyone tells you 'there is work
for everyone in this country if he likes'--'everyone can make money
here'--'this is the working-man's paradise,' etc., etc., there should
be such numbers of men out of work and undoubtedly so much real
destitution. Possibly two incidents which have occurred lately may
assist in the solution of the problem. A contractor took a number of
men from the Labour Bureau to do certain works near the Harbour. He
tried to sort them with a view to giving the less efficient 6_s._ a
day, the others to have 7_s._ or 8_s._ a day when proved capable of
earning it. They all struck, and even the Minister for Works backed
them up, saying the contractor must not do that--he must give all the
men standard wages, but might send away the inefficient ones and have
others in their place."
Of course the wages in Australia have risen enormously in the last
twenty-five years. At the time I wrote, as far as I recollect, miners had
about 14_s._ a day and other skilled labourers somewhere from 10_s._ to
13_s._ The men employed by the contractor were probably unskilled. I
continue my letter:
"Yesterday I visited a large Government Asylum for women ... no poor
law here. It comes to exactly the same thing, only, instead of the
rates, Government supports the institution. But the interesting thing
was this--connected with this women's asylum is a farm, and the
Matron's husband (an ex P. & O. captain) has voluntarily taken it in
hand. He wanted labour, and observed that in a neighbouring Government
Asylum for men there are numbers of men capable of doing plenty of
work, but not up to the 7_s._ to 10_s._ a day standard. He asked
permission to have some of these men, and has now about 40 employed
about the farm, giving them board and lodging at this Women's Asylum
and from 3_d._ to 1_s._ a day. I saw some at 3_d._ doing 4ft.
draining, and I talked to one, a bricklayer, who was doing excellent
work for 1_s._ a day. I calculated with the Master what his board and
lodging were worth (meat about 2-1/2_d._ lb.) and it came to about
1_s._ a day, so with 1_s._ wages on six days that was about 13_s._ a
week."
I remark that had Trade Unions found out that these men, whom masters
would not employ at full rates, were working instead of sitting with
folded hands, it would doubtless have been stopped. Meantime, though
ancient history, this is not altogether unenlightening.
[Sidenote: LABOUR LEGISLATION]
One rather amusing incident took place in Parliament. "Eight hours" was
the Trade Union rule, but was not enforced by law at the time of which I
write. A measure was brought into the Legislative Assembly (the Lower
House) to make it legally obligatory. First came the preamble, which was
accepted, then Clause Two stating that Eight Hours should be the legal
working-day, which was passed with acclamation, then the various clauses
with penalties attached which would oblige employers and employed to abide
by the new law. All these were promptly negatived. It seems to have struck
somebody that two clauses expressing an academic opinion looked a little
isolated, so a member brought forward a third clause stating that nobody
was to be obliged to work eight hours if he did not want to do so. This
was accepted with equal unanimity, and the Bill stood practically thus:
1st. Name. 2nd. Eight hours is a legal working-day. 3rd. No one is obliged
to work eight hours. I believe that the whole thing evaporated in a burst
of laughter and never went to the Upper House, but of course every sort of
stringent regulation as to working-hours has come in since.
However, the immediate sequel of this legislative effort deserves record.
A ship came into Sydney Harbour and stevedores were enlisted to unload it.
After eight hours' work they wanted to go on so as to get overtime pay.
"Not at all," said the captain, "I am in no hurry. Eight hours is a legal
working-day, and I am not going to break the law." Whereupon they all
struck because they were not allowed to work overtime! This is enough on
this burning question, which is certainly not peculiar to Australia.
Before leaving Lord Derby's letters a few extracts with regard to European
foreign affairs may be of interest. In March '91 he writes:
"Every thing and person on the Continent is quiet; even the German
Emperor. At least he has not been emitting any oracles lately. He is
said to have grown tired of Caprivi, and another change is talked of.
There is a vague idea about that he is 'going queer.' I don't know
that it rests on any authority."
In the same letter, though this did not then concern foreign politics, he
says:
"The only rising man I hear of is on the Gladstonian side--young Sir
Edward Grey, grandson of old Sir George, once Home Secretary. He is
making a name as an effective debater."
Even Lord Derby could not foresee under what circumstances these two men,
the Kaiser and Sir Edward, would become protagonists twenty-three years
later! He also speaks of the "rising celebrity," Rudyard Kipling. In the
following May he says:
"Foreign affairs seem quiet all over Europe; I am not behind the
scenes, but I know that the diplomatists expect no early disturbance.
The Czar would scarcely indulge in the pleasing pastime of baiting his
Jews, if he looked forward to wanting a loan. Besides, he hates
soldiering, and takes some interest in finance. The German Emperor has
been making a fool of himself, which is nothing new; he delivered a
speech the other day, in which he praised the beer-swilling and
duelling of German students as being the most effective influences to
keep up the true German character! He is an energetic young savage,
and that is the best one can say."
It should be remembered that the Czar who indulged in "the pleasing
pastime of Jew baiting" was not the luckless Nicholas II so brutally
murdered--a victim, say some, to the baited Jews--but his father,
Alexander III, whom he succeeded in 1894.
[Sidenote: THE EX-KAISER]
In July Lord Derby refers to the visit of the German Emperor at the
beginning of the month:
"He has been ramping up and down, seeing everything, questioning
everybody, intent on making the most of his time, and keeping all the
world in the condition of fuss and bustle which is the element in
which he lives. It is almost too soon to judge the effect of his
visit. I should say that he was popular rather than otherwise; not
from his manners, which are queer and rather blunt; but there is a
certain simplicity about him which pleases, as when he told the
Windsor people, in answer to an address, that he had come 'to see his
grandmamma, who had always been kind to him.' He had a good reception
in the city, though not so enthusiastic as the press makes out. There
was about as much interest shown in his state entry as in an ordinary
Lord Mayor's Show. He is understood to be well satisfied, and the
visit has given people a subject to talk about, which they were
beginning to want. None now lasts longer than a week. By that time,
journalistic enterprise has said whatever is to be said, and the
public grows weary. I am afraid one effect of this German visit will
be to put the French in a bad humour, though with no good reason. But
that cannot be helped."
Lord Derby seems to have been somewhat reassured, as in August, after
touching on home affairs, he writes:
"The other event is more important: the visit of the French fleet to
Portsmouth, where it has been reviewed by the Queen, and civilities of
every kind have been exchanged. I call the matter important, because
the visit of the German Emperor made a great feeling of soreness in
France, and led to endless talk about England having joined the
anti-gallican alliance. All that nonsense is ended by the courtesy
shown to French officers: and the relations of the two countries, if
not absolutely cordial, are again comfortable. The business was well
managed and does credit to the people in Downing Street."
Lord Derby continued to send most interesting news, but unfortunately some
of his later letters are missing, and alas! he died in the spring of 1893,
so I never saw my kind and constant friend again.
[Sidenote: LORD DERBY'S POEM]
I never saw the following lines published. They were given me by Lady
Galloway, who told me that Lord Derby believed that he had composed them,
as he could not remember having heard or read them when he woke with them
in his mind. She wrote down what he said with regard to them.
"Lines made, as I believe, in sleep, in the course of a dream, in
which some fellow-student had asked me to complete a poem which he was
sending in:
"We judge but acts--not ours to look within:
The crime we censure, but ignore the sin:
For who tho' versed in every legal art
Can trace the mazes of the human heart,
Allow for nature, training, faults of race
And friendships such as make us brave or base,
Or judge how long yon felon in his cell
Resisted, struggled--conquered ere he fell?
Our judgments skim the surface of the seas,
We have no sounding-line for depths like these.
Jan. 1893, 5 to 7 a.m."
One or two imperfect lines follow. The idea recalls Burns's "Address to
the Unco' Guid":
"Then at the balance let's be mute,
We never can adjust it;
What's done we partly may compute,
But know not what's resisted."
Lord Derby, however, goes deeper into the springs of action. Verses
composed in sleep are by no means uncommon, but apart from Coleridge's
"Kubla Khan," are perhaps seldom as consecutive as these.