Although most educated people know that Melbourne, Sydney, and Adelaide
are populous towns, I should doubt whether one Englishman, who has not
been to Australia, out of a hundred _realizes_ that fact. I well remember
that, although I had taken some trouble to read up information about
Melbourne, I was never more thoroughly surprised than during the first
few hours after my arrival there. And I hear almost everyone who comes
out from England say that his experience has been the same as my own. In
one sense the visitor is disappointed with his first day in an Australian
city. The novelties and the differences from the Old Country do not
strike him nearly so much as the resemblances. It is only as he gets to
know the place better that he begins to to notice the differences. The
first prevailing impression is that a slice of Liverpool has been bodily
transplanted to the Antipodes, that you must have landed in England again
by mistake, and it is only by degrees that you begin to see that the
resemblance is more superficial than real.
Although Sydney is the older town, Melbourne is justly entitled to be
considered the metropolis of the Southern Hemisphere. The natural
beauties of Sydney are worth coming all the way to Australia to see;
while the situation of Melbourne is commonplace if not actually ugly; but
it is in the Victorian city that the trade and capital, the business and
pleasure of Australia chiefly centre. Is there a company to be got up to
stock the wilds of Western Australia, or to form a railway on the
land-grant system in Queensland, to introduce the electric light, or to
spread education amongst the black fellows, the promoters either belong
to Melbourne, or go there for their capital. The headquarters of nearly
all the large commercial institutions which extend their operation beyond
the limits of any one colony are to be found there. If you wish to
transact business well and quickly, to organize a new enterprise--in
short, to estimate and understand the trade of Australia, you must go to
Melbourne and not to Sydney, and this in spite of the fact that Victoria
is a small colony handicapped by heavy protectionist duties, whilst
Sydney is, comparatively speaking, a free port, at the base of an
enormous area. The actual production does not take place in Victoria, but
it is in Melbourne that the money resulting from the productions of other
colonies as well as of Victoria is turned over. It is Melbourne money
chiefly that opens up new tracts of land for settlement in the interior
of the continent, and Melbourne brains that find the outlets for fresh
commerce in every direction. There is a bustle and life about Melbourne
which you altogether miss in Sydney. The Melbourne man is always on the
look-out for business, the Sydney man waits for business to come to him.
The one is always in a hurry, the other takes life more easily. And as it
is with business, so it is with pleasure.
If you are a man of leisure you will find more society in Melbourne, more
balls and parties, a larger measure of intellectual life--i.e., more
books and men of education and intellect, more and better theatrical and
musical performances, more racing and cricket, football, and athletic
clubs, a larger leisured class than in Sydney. The bushman who comes to
town to 'knock down his cheque,' the squatter who wants a little
amusement, both prefer Melbourne to spend their money in. The Melbourne
races attract three or four times the number of visitors that the Sydney
races do; all public amusements are far better attended in Melbourne; the
people dress better, talk better, think better, are better, if we accept
Herbert Spencer's definition of Progress. There is far more 'go' and far
more 'life,' in every sense of these rather comprehensive words, to be
found in Melbourne, and it is there that the visitor must come who wishes
to see the fullest development of Australasian civilisation, whether in
commerce or education, in wealth or intellect, in manners and customs--in
short, in every department of life.
If you ask how this anomaly is to be explained, I can only answer that
the shutting out of Sydney from the country behind it by a barrier of
mountains hindered its early development; whilst the gold-diggings
transformed Melbourne from a village into a city almost by magic; that
the first population of Sydney was of the wrong sort, whilst that which
flooded Melbourne from 1851 to 1861 was eminently adventurous and
enterprising; that Melbourne having achieved the premier position, Sydney
has, with all its later advantages, found the truth of the proverbs: 'A
stern chase is a long chase,' and 'To him that hath shall be given.'
Passengers by ocean-going vessels to Melbourne land either at Sandridge
or Williamstown, small shipping towns situated on either side of the
river Yarra, which is only navigable by the smaller craft. A quarter of
an hour in the train brings the visitor into the heart of the city. On
getting out he can hardly fail to be impressed by the size of the
buildings around him, and by the width of the streets, which are laid out
in rectangular blocks, the footpaths being all well paved or asphalted.
In spite of the abundance of large and fine-looking buildings, there is a
rather higgledy-piggledy look about the town--the city you will by this
time own it to be. There are no building laws, and every man has built as
seemed best in his own eyes. The town is constantly outgrowing the
majority of its buildings, and although the wise plan of allowing for the
rapid growth of a young community, and building for the requirements of
the future rather than of the present, is generally observed, there are
still gaps in the line of the streets towards the outskirts, and houses
remaining which were built by unbelievers in the future before the city.
In the main thoroughfares you might fancy yourself in an improved
Edgeware Road. In a few years Collins and Bourke Streets will be very
like Westbourne Grove. The less frequented streets in the city are like
those of London suburbs. There _are_ a few lanes which it is wiser not to
go down after ten o'clock at night. These are known as the back slums.
But nowhere is there any sign of poverty or anything at all resembling
Stepney or the lower parts of an European city, The Chinese quarter is
the nearest approach thereto, but it is quite _sui generis_, and squalor
is altogether absent.
The town is well lighted with gas, and the water-supply, from reservoirs
on the Yarra a few miles above, is plentiful, but not good for drinking.
There Is no underground drainage system. All the sewage is carried away
in huge open gutters, which run all through the town, and are at their
worst and widest in the most central part, where all the principal shops
and business places are situated. These gutters are crossed by little
wooden bridges every fifty yards. When it rains, they rise to the
proportion of small torrents, and have on several occasions proved fatal
to drunken men. In one heavy storm, indeed, a sober strong man was
carried off his legs by the force of the stream, and ignominiously
drowned in a gutter. You may imagine how unpleasant these little rivers
are to carriage folk. In compensation they are as yet untroubled with
tramways, although another couple of years will probably see rails laid
all over the city.
It is a law in every Australian town that no visitor shall be allowed to
rest until he has seen all its sights, done all its lions, and, above
all, expressed his surprise and admiration at them. With regard to their
public institutions, the colonists are like children with a new
toy--delighted with it themselves, and not contented until everybody they
meet has declared it to be delightful. There are some people who vote all
sightseeing a bore, but if they come to Melbourne I would advise them at
least to do the last part of their duty--express loudly and generally
their admiration at everything that is mentioned to them. Whether they
have seen it or not is, after all, their own affair.
In this respect a Professor at the Melbourne University, on a holiday
trip to New Zealand, has just told me an amusing anecdote, for the
literal truth of which he vouches. A couple of young Englishmen fresh
from Oxford came to Melbourne in the course of a trip round the world to
open up their minds! For fear of a libel suit I may at once say I am not
alluding to the Messrs. Chamberlain. They brought letters of introduction
to Professor S----, who proposed, according to the custom of the place,
to 'show them round.' 'Have you seen the Public Library?' he began. 'No,'
answered the Oxonian. Shall I take you over it?' continued the Professor;
'it is one of the finest in the world, well worth seeing; and we can kill
two birds with one stone by seeing the Museum and National Gallery at the
same time.' 'Well, no, thanks,' was the reply; 'it's awfully good of you,
we know; but I say, the fact is books are books, all the world over, and
pictures are pictures; and as for minerals, I can't say we understand
them--not in our line, you understand.'
The Professor now thought he would try them with something out-of-doors,
and proposed a walk to the Botanical Gardens, which was met with 'Don't
you think it's rather hot for a walk? Besides, to tell the truth, one
garden is very much like another.' 'But these are very large,' persisted
the Professor; 'not scientific gardens like Kew, but capital places to
walk and sit about in. There are a number of flowers there, too, which
you cannot see at home.' Oxonian No. 2, however, came to the breach: 'We
bought a lot of flowers at a shop in Collins Street yesterday, and we are
going to send a hamper of ferns home; so that if you won't think it
uncivil of us to refuse your kindness, we won't take up your time by
going so far.'
Although somewhat abashed, the Professor thought of several other 'lions'
which they might like to see, but was invariably met with the same polite
refusal, till at last he gave it up as a bad job, and turned the
conversation to general subjects. They had taken up their hats, and were
saying good-bye. The Professor, who is a kind-hearted man, and was really
anxious to be of service to the two friends, felt quite vexed with
himself that he could do nothing more than ask them to dine. So, just as
they were parting with the usual mutual expressions of goodwill, he asked
in a despondent, almost prayerful tone: 'Are you quite sure there is;
nothing I can do for you? Pray make use of me if you can, and I shall be
only too delighted.' The reply was in a rather nervous voice from the
younger man, who blushed as he asked the favour: 'Do you know anyone who
has got a lawn-tennis court? We should so awfully like to have a game.'
The Professor introduced them to the head and to some of the
undergraduates of the affiliated colleges close by, and heard very little
more of them till they came to dinner with him a fortnight later, the day
before they were to leave Melbourne. The conversation at dinner turned of
course upon what they had seen during their visit, with which they
declared themselves immensely pleased. But when asked as to the things
which had most impressed them, it came out that Sundays were the only
days they had gone out of the town; that they had not been to see a
public institution or building, except their bank and the theatres.
'Surely you can't have spent all your time at the club,' said the
Professor, 'though there is a capital library there; and, by the way, did
you ever play tennis at Ormond College?' And then came the reply from
both at once. It turned out that they had been to Ormond College to play
tennis twice a day, except when they stopped lunch there. And then
followed a technical description of the college tennis-courts, the
Australian play, etc., etc.
But the cream of the story is not yet reached. The young men were to
leave the next day for Japan, and the Professor waxed enthusiastic over
the delights in store for them in that land of the morning. He quoted
anecdotes and passages from Miss Bird's book, and repeated more than once
that he envied them their trip. 'Well, yes, you know,' said the eldest,
'we've got several introductions; and I hear there are lots of English in
Tokio, so that we are sure to get plenty of tennis.'
There are not many people who are likely to be so frank, not to say dull,
as the Professor's friends; but how many people there are who travel
round the world and see nothing! There is a moral in the story which is
probably applicable to at least half of my readers, more or less.
Of the public buildings, which are scattered in considerable numbers
about the town, the largest are the New Law Courts, which have just been
erected at a cost of £300,000. They contain 130 rooms, and provide
accommodation for the Supreme Court, the County Court, the Insolvent
Court, the Equity Court, and for the various offices of the Crown Law
Department. The plan is that of a quadrangle, with a centre surmounted by
a dome 137 feet high. Still more elaborate and magnificent are the
Parliament Houses not yet completed, the front alone of which is to cost
£180,000. With regard to the architecture of these buildings, there is
ample room for difference of opinion, but everyone will agree to admire
the classic simplicity of the Public Library, erected some twenty years
ago, which is planned with a view to the subsequent erection of a
National Gallery and Museum, to complete a really noble pile of
buildings. And it is well worth while to go inside. The Library is
absolutely free to everybody, contains over 110,000 volumes, and has
accommodation for 600 readers. An interesting feature is the large
newspaper-room, where scores of working-men can be seen reading papers
and magazines from all parts of the world. At the back of the same
building are the painting and sculpture galleries, with which is
connected a school of art and design. Behind these again is a museum. In
the galleries there are a few good modern paintings, and a large number
of mediocre ones. The statuary consists mainly of well-executed casts and
four marble statues by the late Mr. Summers. The museum is only likely to
be of interest to entomologists and mineralogists, the collection in both
these departments being considered very good. The foundation and the
success of the whole of this institution are almost entirely due to the
late Sir Redmond Barry, who did almost as much for the University, which
has also been exceedingly useful and successful from every point of view.
As a building it is not equal to the Sydney University, although it
possesses a splendid Gothic Hall, the gift of Sir Samuel Wilson, who now
lives at Hughenden. In connection with the University is an excellent
Zoological Museum, which is interesting to more than specialists.
Other fine buildings are the Government Offices, the Town Hall with its
enormous organ, the Post Office, the International Exhibition--all built
on a truly metropolitan scale, which is even exceeded by the palatial
hugeness of the Government House, the ugliness of which is proverbial
throughout Australia. But, perhaps, the class of buildings, which must in
every Australian city most excite the surprise of the visitor, are the
hospitals and asylums. There are no less than ten splendid structures in
Melbourne devoted to charitable purposes. The Roman Catholics have built
a fine cathedral, but it is not yet finished. The Church of England is
collecting money for a similar purpose. Meanwhile the prettiest church
belongs to the Presbyterians. None of the other churches are in any way
remarkable. Anyone who has not seen the London Mint will find the
Melbourne Mint worth a visit. The Observatory contains one of the largest
telescopes in the world; and even if there are no races going on, the
Flemington Racecourse is a 'lion' of the largest dimensions. There are
four theatres, only one of which is well-fitted up. The visitor will
notice that drinking bars are invariable and very disagreeable
accompaniments of every theatre. One bar is generally just opposite the
entrance to the dress circle, an arrangement which is particularly
annoying to ladies.
Altogether, the public buildings of Melbourne do the greatest credit to
the public spirit of the colonists, and offer substantial testimony to
the largeness of their views and the thoroughness of their belief in the
future of their country. There is certainly no city in England which can
boast of nearly as many fine buildings, or as large ones, proportionately
to its size, as Melbourne. And this is the more remarkable, remembering,
that even in the existing hard times, masons are getting 10s. 6d. a day
of eight hours, and often a very dawdling eight hours too.
The Botanic Gardens, just outside the town, are well worth a visit. They
have no great scientific pretensions, as their name would imply, but are
merely pleasure-grounds, decked with all the variety of flowers which
this land of Cockaigne produces in abundance. Besides these, there are
several pretty reserves, notably the Fitzroy, Carlton, and University
Gardens, and the Regent's Park, which are all well kept and refreshing to
the eye after the dust and glare of the town.
The proportions of the commercial buildings and business premises are on
the same large and elaborate scale. Of the architecture, as a rule, the
less said the better; but everything is at least more spacious than at
home. The climate and the comparative cheapness of land give the
colonists an aversion to height in their buildings, and even in the
busiest parts of Melbourne most of the buildings have only two
stories--i.e., a ground-floor and one above--and I can hardly think of
any with more than three. The sums which banking companies pay for the
erection of business premises are enormous. Thirty to sixty thousand
pounds is the usual cost of their headquarters. The large insurance
companies have also caught the building mania, and the joint-stock
companies which are now springing up in all directions emulate them. The
Australian likes to have plenty of elbow-room. He cannot understand how
wealthy merchants can work in the dingy dens which serve for the offices
of many a London merchant prince. In this matter, contrary to his usual
practice, he is apt to consider the surface rather than what is beneath
it; and it is an accepted maxim in commercial circles that money spent on
buildings--which is of course borrowed in England at English rates of
interest--is amongst the cheapest forms of advertising a rising business
and keeping an established business going. Nobody in a young country has
a long memory, and nothing is so firmly established but that it may be
overthrown if it does not keep up with the times.
The general run of shops are little better than in English towns of the
same size, if we except those of some dozen drapers and ironmongers in
Melbourne, and two or three in Sydney, which are exceptionally good. Of
these it may be said that they would be creditable to London itself. Both
trades are much more comprehensive than in England. A large Melbourne
draper will sell you anything, from a suit of clothes to furniture, where
he comes into competition with the ironmonger, whose business includes
agricultural machinery, crockery and plate. The larger firms in both
these trades combine wholesale and retail business, and their shops are
quite amongst the sights of Australia. Nowhere out of an exhibition and
Whiteley's is it possible to meet so heterogeneous a collection. A
peculiarity of Melbourne is that the shop-windows there are much better
set out than is customary in England. It is not so in Sydney. Indeed
Melbourne has decidedly the best set of shops, not only in outward
appearance, but as to the variety and quality of the articles sold in
them. Next to the drapers and ironmongers, the booksellers' shops are the
most creditable. The style of the smaller shops in every colonial town is
as English as English can be. The only difference is in the prices, but
of that more anon when we go into the shops.
The river Yarra runs through the city, and is navigable as far as its
centre by coasting steamers and all but the larger sailing craft. Above
the harbour it is lined with trees and very pretty, and in spite of many
windings it is wide enough for boat-races. Below it is uninteresting, and
chiefly remarkable for the number and variety of the perfumes which arise
from the manufactories on its banks. Next to the monotony of the Suez
Canal, with which it presents many points of resemblance, I know few
things more tiresome than the voyage up the Yarra in an intercolonial
steamer of 600 or 700 tons, which goes aground every ten minutes, and
generally, as if on purpose, just in front of a boiling-down
establishment.
If the Australian cities can claim a sad eminence, if not an actual
supremacy, in the number of their public houses, of which there are no
less than 1,120 in Melbourne, I am sorry to say that they are as much
behind London in their ideas of the comforts of an hotel as London is
behind San Francisco. Melbourne is certainly better off than Sydney or
Adelaide, but bad are its best hotels. Of these Menzies' and the Oriental
are most to be recommended; after these try the United Club Hotel, or, if
you be a bachelor, Scott's. The hotels, I think without exception, derive
their chief income from the bar traffic, with which, at all but the few I
have mentioned, you cannot help being brought more or less into contact.
Lodgers are quite a secondary consideration. This is very disagreeable
for ladies. The best hotels, moreover, have no _table d'hote_--only the
old-fashioned coffee and commercial rooms; so that if you are travelling
_en famille_ you have no choice but to have your meals in a private
sitting-room. For a bachelor, who is not particular so long as his rooms
are clean, and can put up with plain fare, there need, however, be no
difficulty in getting accommodation; but anyone who wishes to be
comfortable had better live at the clubs, which in every one of the
'capitals' are most liberal in their hospitality, and have bedrooms on
their premises. Visitors to the colony are made honorary members for a
month on the introduction of any two members, and the term is extended to
six months on the small subscription of a guinea a month. The Melbourne
Club is the best appointed in the Colonies. The rooms are comfortable,
and decently though by no means luxuriously furnished, and a very fair
table is kept. The servants wear full livery. There is a small library,
all the usual appurtenances of a London club, and a racquet-court. The
other clubs, though less pretentious, are all comfortable.
Your colonial rarely walks a step farther than he can help, and of course
laziness is well provided with cabs and omnibuses. You can take your
choice between one-horse waggonettes and hansoms, though a suspicion of
Bohemia still lingers about the latter. Happily Mrs. Grundy has never
introduced 'growlers.' The waggonettes are light boxes on wheels, covered
in with oil-cloth, which can be rolled up in a few seconds if the weather
is fine or warm. It is strange that victorias like those in Paris have
never been tried in this warm climate. A few years ago Irish
jaunting-cars and a jolting vehicle called a 'jingle' were much used, but
they have slipped out of favour of late, and are now almost obsolete. The
fares are usually moderate, ranging from a shilling for a quarter of an
hour to the same coin for the first mile, and sixpence for every
subsequent one. Cabby is fairly civil, but, as at home, always expects
more than his legal fare.
Nowhere do omnibuses drive a more thriving trade than in Melbourne, and
they deserve it, for they are fast, clean, roomy, and well managed. The
price of labour makes conductors too expensive a luxury, and passengers
have to put their fare--in most cases threepence--into a little glass box
close to the driver's seat. This unfortunate man, in addition to looking
after the horses, and opening and shutting the door by means of a strap
tied to his foot, which you pull when you want to get out, has to give
change whenever a little bell is rung, and to see that the threepences in
the glass box correspond to the number of passengers. Yet not only does
he drive fast and carefully along the crowded thoroughfares, but it is
difficult to escape without paying. Several times when a 'bus has been
crowded I have tried the effect of omitting payment. Invariably the
driver has touched his bell, and if that is not attended to, he puts his
face to the chink through which change is passed, and having re-counted
the number of people in the 'bus, civilly intimates that 'some gentleman
has forgotten to put in his fare.' Where the omnibus companies have not
penetrated, waggonettes similar to those previously described pioneer the
road, and on some well-frequented lines they run in competition with the
omnibuses.
I don't know that it would be true to say that the number of horses and
vehicles in the streets strikes the stranger's eye as a rule. A man
accustomed to the traffic of London streets passes over the traffic of
Melbourne, great as it is for a town of its size, without notice. But I
think he cannot but notice the novel nature of the Melbourne traffic, the
prevalence of that light four-wheeled vehicle called the 'buggy,' which
we have imported via America, and the extraordinary number of horsemen he
meets. The horses at first sight strike the eye unpleasantly. They look
rough, and are rarely properly groomed. But, as experience will soon
teach the stranger, they are far less delicate than English horses. They
get through a considerably greater quantity of work, and are less
fatigued at the end of it.
A walk down Collins Street or Flinders Lane would astonish some of the
City Croesuses. But if a visitor really wishes to form an idea of the
wealth concentrated in Melbourne, he cannot do better than spend a week
walking round the suburbs, and noting the thousands of large roomy houses
and well-kept gardens which betoken incomes of over two thousand a year,
and the tens of thousands of villas whose occupants must be spending from
a thousand to fifteen hundred a year. All these suburbs are connected
with the town by railway. A quarter of an hour will bring you ten miles
to Brighton, and twelve minutes will take you to St. Kilda, the most
fashionable watering-place. Within ten minutes by rail are the inland
suburbs, Toorak, South Yarra, and Kew, all three very fashionable;
Balaclava, Elsterwick, and Windsor, outgrowths of St. Kilda, also
fashionable; Hawthorn, which is budding well; Richmond, adjacent to East
Melbourne, and middle class; and Emerald Hill and Albert Park, with a
working-class population. Adjoining the city itself are North Melbourne,
Fitzroy, Carlton, Hotham, and East Melbourne, all except the last
inhabited by the working-classes. Emerald Hill and Hotham have handsome
town halls of their own, and the larger of these suburbs form
municipalities. Nearly everybody who can lives in the suburbs, and the
excellence of the railway system enables them to extend much farther away
from the city than in Adelaide or Sydney. It is strange that the
Australian townsman should have so thoroughly inherited the English love
of living as far as possible away from the scene of his business and work
during the day.
The names of the suburbs afford food for reflection. Yarra is the only
native name. Sir Charles Hotham and Sir Charles Fitzroy were the
governors at the time of the foundation of the municipalities which bear
their names. The date of the foundation of St. Kilda is evidenced by the
name of its streets--Alma, Inkerman, Redan, Malakoff, Sebastopol, Raglan,
Cardigan, and Balaclava, the last of which gave its name later on to a
new suburb, which grew up at one end of it. In the city proper the
principal streets are named after colonial celebrities in the early
days--Flinders, Bourke, Collins, Lonsdale, Spencer, Stephen, Swanston,
while King, Queen, and William Streets each tell a tale. Elizabeth Street
was perhaps named after the virgin queen to whose reign the accession of
the Princess Victoria called attention.
As you walk round you cannot fail to notice the sunburnt faces of the
people you meet. Melbourne is said to have the prettiest girls in
Australia. I am no judge. On first arrival their sallow complexions
strike you most disagreeably, and it is some time before you will allow
that there is a pretty girl in the country. When you get accustomed to
this you will recognise that as a rule they have good figures, and that
though there are no beauties, a larger number of girls have pleasant
features than in England. What may be called nice looking girls abound
all over Australia. In dress the Melbourne ladies are too fond of bright
colours, but it can never be complained against them that they are
dowdy--a fault common to their Sydney, Adelaide, and English sisters--and
they certainly spend a great deal of money on their dress, every article
of which costs about 50 per cent. more than at home. In every town the
shop girls and factory girls--in short, all the women belonging to the
industrial classes--are well dressed, and look more refined than in
England. Men, on the other hand, are generally very careless about their
attire, and dress untidily. The business men all wear black frock-coats
and top hats. They look like city men whose clothes have been cut in the
country. The working-men are dressed much more expensively than at home,
and there are no threadbare clothes to be seen. Everybody has a
well-to-do look There is not so much bustle as in the City, but the faces
of 'all sorts and conditions of men' are more cheerful, and less careworn
and anxious. You can see that bread-and-butter never enters into the
cares of these people; it is only the cake which is sometimes endangered.
or has not sufficient plums in it.