XII Victoria
The voyage from Lyttleton to Melbourne was rough but uneventful. The Renown did the 1,651 miles in three days, and very uncomfortable days they were. She carried a new passenger in the fine bulldog presented to the ward-room mess by the Mayor of Gisborne, but it languished so grievously that it had to find a new home in the Commonwealth. It had joined the Navy too late in life.
The Prince had his first view of Australia by moonlight. The sea had then gone down and mist hung in the narrow strait as the Renown passed between the dark shadowy hills of Wilson’s promontory and the grey rounded cone of Rodondo Island. The following morning, however, found the Renown still outside the confined entrance to Port Phillip, enveloped in a clinging fog, that shut out everything from view. The tide was then high, so the ten-knot current, that rushes through the entrance when the water is low, had subsided, but this favourable condition could not be taken advantage of to bring in the Renown as neither buoys nor lights could be seen. Impatiently the ship’s company waited for the fog to clear, but hour after hour went by and it seemed to grow only denser. Tired navigating officers, in sopping overalls, descended gloomily from the bridge, and it was realized that there would be no crossing the bar that tide. The wireless meanwhile had crackled a message through to the Australian fleet, lying within Port Phillip, asking destroyers to come out and fetch the Prince, so that he might not disappoint the enormous crowds waiting in the streets of Melbourne to welcome him. The destroyers had forty miles of intricate navigation to negotiate, but were speedily in the neighbourhood. The Renown meanwhile had been carried by the currents out of her original position, but the firing of guns and the tooting of syrens eventually discovered her. That fine boat H.M.A.S. Anzac, recently attached to the Australian Navy, came smartly alongside, and took off the entire party. Steaming at twenty-eight knots, with a following wave so high as nearly to conceal the accompanying destroyers from the Anzac’s quarter-deck, soon brought her through the Heads, in spite of the ten-knot tide then running full against her. The fog thinned off, and showed the Anzac in still autumn sunshine, pushing through a misty expanse of grey landlocked bays. Yellow sandy hills, dotted with soft-toned buildings, receded on either side as she advanced and the bay widened out, to reappear later on as she approached Melbourne harbour, which first presented itself as a forest of gaunt black cranes, with a background of roofs and chimneys emerging mistily from a low foreshore.
The destroyer was cheered again and again, as she approached amongst launches and steamers crammed with holiday-makers out to see the Prince. She made fast to a red-carpeted wharf, in front of goods sheds flaming with decorations, where waited a smartly turned out naval guard-of-honour, and all the port authorities in full dress. Greetings and salutes accomplished, the party transhipped to a shallow-draft steamer—the Hygeia—which carried the Prince to the St. Kilda pier, in front of the residential quarter, through a fleet of yachts and launches filled with cheering people.
On the pier four figures stood out prominently—the Governor-General, the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth, the Lieutenant-Governor of Victoria, and the Premier of Victoria. Behind them were staffs in uniform, scores of dignitaries in top-hats and frock-coats, and a guard-of-honour in khaki. Long lines of marines and sailors kept a lane down the pier, and out into the crowd beyond. The Prince landed, and shook hands with the Governor-General and the Prime Minister, who afterwards presented to him the Premiers of New South Wales, Queensland, South Australia, Western Australia, and Tasmania, besides numerous members of their respective Governments, most of whom had travelled long distances to attend. The civic address gone through, a procession was formed, the Prince, the Governor-General, the Prime Minister, and other bigger officials in barouches, the rest of the party following in motors behind. The mounted escorts included a fine squadron of police on grey horses, each of which was a picture. The procession traversed eight miles of wide, well-kept streets, with swarms of well-dressed, well-nourished people, applauding, laughing and chaffing on either side. The crowds were enormous. The streets were crammed. Thousands were accommodated upon stands against the sides of the buildings. Every balcony, window, roof, and parapet, whence, in any way, a glimpse could be caught of the procession, was filled with people. Commonwealth troops, cadets in khaki, and police in black uniform, though stationed only sparsely along the line, maintained excellent order. The crowds were as full of good-humour as could be, despite having been kept waiting by the fog for more than an hour after the advertised time. A wave of clapping and cheering went down the street alongside the Prince, and tailed off into chaff and criticism, at the expense of Mr. Hughes and other members of the Government, at the end of the procession. The cheering grew stronger as the business quarter of Melbourne was reached, and the procession passed through its spacious thoroughfares. “Generous” seemed to be the adjective most appropriate alike to the broad outlines of the architecture, for Melbourne despises sky-scrapers, to the width and dignity of the well-paved streets, and to the profusion of costly motor-cars and horses seen on the way. Those who accompanied the party were soon to discover for themselves that it applies equally to the quick-witted, outspoken, hospitable, kindly people of Melbourne.
The following day was a busy one for the Prince. It began with a levée at Government House, where he invested a number of returned officers and men with decorations won at the front. The reception of a score of addresses came next and the replying to the more important of them, including those from both Houses of the Commonwealth Legislature. The functions finished with a banquet at Parliament Buildings, at which the Right Honourable Mr. Hughes proposed the Prince’s health. The toast was seconded, in the warmest terms, by Mr. Frank Tudor, Leader of the Opposition. The keynote of the occasion was sounded by Mr. Hughes when he said to his guest: “The people of Australia see in you the things in which they believe.”
There followed a bewildering week in which the Prince was carried from one public function to another, through extraordinary masses of people, composed largely of women and children, but also comprising a very considerable number of men, who waited in the streets for hours at a time, sometimes in chill wind, fog or rain, on the chance of catching a glimpse of the Royal visitor. Many of them, when he appeared, made such efforts to approach and shake him by the hand, that the police had difficulty in getting his car through. His progress was so delayed in many cases that it became almost impossible for him to fulfil engagements at the hour appointed, in spite of the most liberal allowance of time for delays upon the road. Eventually appeals were made through the press for some abatement of this personal demonstration. The police arranged for a wider lane to be kept for his car, and the difficulty gradually disappeared. The Melbourne newspapers, meanwhile, day after day, made the Prince’s visit their almost exclusive business. The smallest details of his doings were chronicled with minuteness, and long poems and articles about him were published. Photographs, in every attitude and at every function, appeared prominently amongst the news of the day. The Prince was “featured” inexhaustibly. Scenes of enthusiasm also characterized the Naval Review, where every fighting ship belonging to the Commonwealth of Australia was paraded. A special agricultural show was held to which landholders from distant parts of Victoria sent breeding stock so valuable that no previous exhibition had been able to attract it. A public reception was given in the exhibition buildings, where people stood from eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon to secure front places. An entertainment was organized at the cricket-ground where ten thousand school-children went through marvellously trained evolutions, and fifty thousand spectators cheered when the Prince appeared.
When one asked folk in the street what they thought of him, enthusiasm found various expressions, but it was always enthusiasm. I have heard a stout, middle-aged and presumably sane gentleman in the smoking-room of a Melbourne hotel declare in the most bellicose tone to all and sundry that he would like to fight for him. I never heard a word of criticism. Certainly Melbourne, and all the great interests it represents, took the Prince to a generous heart.
From Melbourne His Royal Highness made a two-days’ trip by train into the rich districts of Western Victoria, through the Werribee Plain, where land fetches up to £60 per acre. Stone-walled fields of oats just rising above ground, with pleasant farm-houses amidst sparse white gum-trees, spread on either side of the track. Low, blue hills bounded the view. Country folk waved greetings from many homesteads, as the train sped onward. The first stopping-place was Geelong, on the sheltered coast of Port Phillip, once a rival to Melbourne for the honour of being the capital of Victoria, now a marine base, and prosperous shire town. It is known throughout Australia as the home of the doctrine of the one man vote, and eight-hour day, first promulgated in the ‘seventies, by Sir Graham Berry, who represented Geelong in the Commonwealth Legislature. Here the Prince found himself in the midst of an agricultural, manufacturing and shipping community. The guard-of-honour was composed of naval cadets. He was shown thousands of bales of finest merino wool from mills which not only clean and sort it, but also, upon a smaller scale, manufacture it into blankets and cloth. Pupils were presented to him from Geelong’s famous grammar school, which draws its students from all parts of Australia, and had a larger proportion of casualties, in the great war, than any other educational institution outside the British islands. Here also he visited a big wool-shed, that of Messrs. Dennys Lascelles Ltd., with a ferro-concrete roof weighing two thousand tons, so large that the sales-room it shelters covers an acre of floor, yet there is not a single pillar in support, the necessary stiffness being given by means of reinforced girders, built upon cantilever principles, above the roof. The streets were crowded with people, and the Prince had a very fine reception alike at the reading of the municipal address, and at the functions of shaking hands with returned soldiers, and inspecting school-children. A large number of schools from townships in the interior were represented, each with one pupil elected by its fellows to shake hands with the Prince. The selected mites stood shyly out, in front of the lines of scholars, as the Prince went by to honour the promise given.
From Geelong the Prince went on to Colac, shire centre of one of the richest districts in Victoria. Here he was shown what claims to be the second largest dairying factory in the Commonwealth. It is run on co-operative lines, and makes, in addition to such products as butter and cheese, large quantities of dried milk, a comparatively new preparation, for which increasing demand is springing up in all parts of the world. It is an enterprise to which all may wish good luck, as a long step toward solving the important problem of rendering milk easily transportable, without loss of essential properties.
In entering, and again in leaving Colac, the train passed quite close to a number of low conical hills and circular lakes, remains of comparatively recent volcanic action, which has given the soil over a wide area properties that enable it to grow Spanish onions in extraordinary profusion. In a favourable season, fabulous profits are made out of this crop. One man, with twenty acres, in one year cleared £1,800, of which £1,200 was net profit, after paying all cost of cultivation and harvesting. The Prince also saw some of the outlying trees of the famous Otway forest, home of the blue gum and blackwood timber used not only in Australia but also in America and Europe for decorative work.
In Colac, the streets had been elaborately decorated. Flags covered alike the stone and reinforced-concrete houses of business, and the brick and wooden residences. The accommodation of the place had been supplemented for the Royal visit, by encampments of tents, one large marquee flaunting the imposing title of the “Café de Kerbstone.” Choirs, in Welsh and Scottish costumes, serenaded the procession. There was much cordial cheering, especially about the shire-hall, where the civic address was read.
The next halting-place was Camperdown, another farming centre, where again a surprisingly large gathering of country folk had assembled to welcome the Prince. Motor-cars, often of the most expensive British makes, in which the owners had come from their holdings, stood about in the streets. The Royal party here transferred to motors, in which the Prince drove out to the residence of Mr. Stuart Black, one of Australia’s great landholders, descendant of settlers from Tasmania, who opened up this part of the country some eighty years ago. These settlers bore many distinguished names, including those of the Gladstone family and the MacKinnons.
The following day His Royal Highness went by train to Ballarat, past a fine stone memorial to members of the neighbourhood who had fallen in the great war, subscribed for by the residents of the district, and designed by Mr. Butler, of Sydney. The route lay through undulating agricultural country, past big heaps of white, pink, or yellow tailings, which mark the sites of now worked-out gold-mines. Some of the fields around were pitted with what looked very much like shell-holes, dug by early prospectors for the gold that made Ballarat famous. The Prince found the last-named place a prosperous market town, with substantial public buildings, and quantities of marble statues, dating from the days of easily made fortunes in the ‘seventies. It contains also wool, and other factories, including that of Messrs. Lucas and Company, for the production of underclothing, with which the Prince became acquainted under circumstances worthy of the creditable history of this firm. During the war, some five hundred girls employed by Messrs. Lucas conceived the idea of planting an avenue, in which each tree should be connected with the name of one of Ballarat’s large contingent of fighting men at the front. At the head of this avenue, which is now a dozen miles in length, a substantial masonry Arch of Victory has been set up. The Prince opened this arch in the presence of the entire establishment of the Lucas factory, which presented him with an embroidered set of underclothing—yellow silk pyjamas, to be exact—in the making of which every employee of the firm had taken part.
Rain had been falling heavily, but the girls faced it cheerily at the head of their avenue, many a tree of which bore the flag that told that the soldier it commemorated had been killed. The presentation was made to the Prince by two ladies, one of whom was Mrs. Lucas, the founder of the firm, which she had started on a very small scale, at a time when the miners were beginning to desert the Ballarat goldfield, leaving, in many cases, families behind them. Mrs. Lucas gathered these families around her, and by a system of profit-sharing, attached them to her firm, which is now well known throughout Australia.
This was not the only function at Ballarat. The Prince also received an address standing out in the rain, on a platform in the main street, in the midst of a crowd so large that those in the rear could neither hear nor see very clearly what was going on in front. As the result, both the reading and the reply to the address were much interrupted, a patriotic cornet on the outskirts playing “God Bless the Prince of Wales” part of the time while the Prince himself was speaking. The Prince got hold of his audience, after two false starts, however, and to such purpose that the latter part of his speech was listened to with an interest that the rain, which plastered his hair and flattened out his collar, appeared to enhance. The cheering at the end was most hearty. The crowd did not disperse when the speeches were over, but waited in the rain until after the completion of a further ceremony, which took place inside the town hall, where the Prince shook hands with numbers of returned men and nurses. He was again loudly cheered when he came out and got into his car en route to the train to Melbourne.
The rain that was so insistent during the visit to Ballarat was of dramatic importance to the country at large. It broke a long and serious drought, extending over an enormous area—a drought so severe that we passed, on the road to Ballarat, way-worn sheep that had been driven three hundred miles in search of fodder and water. They were browsing, on their homeward way, on one of the farmer’s stock-routes which traverse Australia from end to end. These cattle-tracks are generously bordered by pastures fenced off from the surrounding country, so as to conserve food for flocks and herds in movement.
Two days later, just three weeks from Australia’s mid-winter, the Prince crossed, by train from Melbourne, the chill slopes of the Great Dividing Range, which separates the basin of the Murray river, flowing westward through central Australia, from that of the streams which pour their waters southwards to the coast. On the way, he received addresses at Kyneton and Castlemaine, once gold-mining camps, now not less prosperous dairying and woollen-working centres, the entire countryside turning out to receive him. Thence the train climbed down to a pleasant plateau on which stands Bendigo, city of flowers and dry, healthful breezes, and a centre of large and still exceedingly productive quartz gold-mining. Enormous heaps of grey “mullick” shale, and yellow and white tailings here stand amongst beautiful avenues of shady eucalyptus trees, and substantial buildings of stone and brick. One of the cheeriest civic luncheons of the tour was a feature of the day—the Mayor toasting the Royal guest as Duke of Cornwall, Prince of the “Cousin Jacks,” to whom the development of the Bendigo gold industry is so largely due. A novelty also appeared on the triumphal arches in the streets, which, in place of wreaths and patriotic texts, carried whole bevies of the prettiest girls the city could find. These arches had been built in the form of bridges connecting the porticoes on one side of the street with those on the other. The girls occupied the middle and dropped flowers as the Prince passed in his car.
Intensive small culture is so successful about Bendigo, that we were told as much as £300 has been made out of an acre of tomatoes in a single year. Bendigo may thus look forward to a future of agriculture when her reefs are exhausted. Gold-mining brought her population, but her fields and gardens will probably keep it.
Later in the afternoon the Prince, accompanied by the Prime Minister, in overalls, descended the shaft of one of the gold-mines that amongst them keep the mints of the country busy turning out sovereigns that bear on the reverse the effigy of the kangaroo. The Prince thus made the acquaintance of the gold industry which has played so dramatic a part in the history of the Commonwealth. The output has been falling off gradually since 1903 when the value produced was over sixteen million sterling. It still averages over ten million sterling annually however, and is likely long to remain a very important source of wealth.
It was on this expedition that newspaper men accompanying the tour had their first opportunity of becoming acquainted with a number of distinguished Australians with whom they were so fortunate thereafter as to travel extensively. I have already mentioned that the Rt. Hon. Mr. William Hughes, Prime Minister of the Commonwealth, was one of them, his outspoken frankness and caustic humour illuminating and diverting long stretches of the railway journeys. Another member of the Commonwealth Government, closely associated with the tour, was the Hon. Mr. Pearce, Minister of Defence, who was supported, whenever the Prince was in naval ports, by the Hon. Sir Joseph Cook, Minister for the Navy, and Rear-Admiral Grant, Senior Member of the Naval Board, authorities who were able to afford the Prince first-hand information about the training and equipment of the forces that have given an account of themselves at once so memorable and so recent. Major-General Sir Brudenell White, Commonwealth Organizer of the visit, Brigadier-General H. W. Lloyd, Brigadier-General Dodds, Commodore J. S. Dumaresq, were also outstanding figures of the party. The Commonwealth arrangements, extensive though they were, represented only a small portion of the organization connected with the Australian part of the tour. Every State had also its own organizer, besides numerous committees—committees for decoration and illuminations, reception committees, committees for dinners and dances, school committees, committees to guide and instruct the British Press. These last-named bodies, to whom the debt of the visiting newspapermen was considerable, consisted not of delegated correspondents but of the editors and proprietors of the leading journals themselves. These gentlemen also took upon themselves the duty of making known throughout each State the story of the Prince’s doings, thus giving to the business of publicity the best and most influential brains available, and placing at the disposal of the Overseas pressmen a constant reference to experience and local knowledge of the utmost value.
With the Commonwealth Prime Minister an ex-Labour member, and with Labour Governments in power in several of the Australian state legislatures, no one can visit Melbourne, seat of the Commonwealth Government, without coming up against some of the industrial problems and prospects in this country. It has already been mentioned that, at the dinner given to the Prince by the Commonwealth Government, in Parliament Buildings, Mr. Frank Tudor, leader of the Labour Party in opposition to Mr. Hughes’ Government, warmly seconded the toast of the Prince’s health. I repeat this fact, as it seems to be indicative of the general attitude of Victorian labour towards the Royal visit. The British pressmen had the opportunity of meeting some of the Labour leaders, amongst them Mr. E. J. Holloway, Secretary of the Melbourne Trades Hall, and Mr. D. L. MacNamara, Labour Member of the Victoria Upper House. They are men of moderate views, while full of schemes for bettering the conditions of labour on this continent. Mr. MacNamara is the author of proposals, now forming part of the Australian Labour Party’s platform, for revising the Commonwealth constitution, upon lines designed to make the will of the people supreme. He would abolish existing State governments, and divide the States into provinces administered by councils exercising only such functions as might, from time to time, be conferred upon them by the Commonwealth Government, the Upper Chamber in the latter to be done away with, thereby leaving the lower Federal House a free hand to put through legislation beneficial to the masses. This scheme, whatever may be its intrinsic merits, is rather of theoretic than practical interest, as there is not much probability of any proposals for increasing the powers of the Commonwealth Government being accepted by the States, which are after all in paramount authority for the time being. It is nevertheless important as showing the constructive nature of problems with which Labour men in this part of Australia concern themselves. Mr. Holloway’s activities have been chiefly connected with organizing proposals for the immediate advantage of workers, reducing their hours of work, and increasing their pay. Australian labour is watching developments in England, and a tendency is growing to substitute friendly round-table conferences between workers and employers for the less elastic processes of strikes and lock-outs which have so often been resorted to in the past.
There was no lack of evidence in Melbourne to show how closely the community, as a whole, is affected by the new distribution of political power. Smoke-room assertions that industry was being destroyed by the frequency of strikes need not be taken too seriously, since the manifest prosperity of the crowds and the well-ordered activities of the factories did not at the time confirm any such mournful supposition. It is apropos to mention, however, that in Melbourne places of business much capital is locked up in purely emergency apparatus for doing without such public utilities as water-supply, electricity and gas, these arrangements being designed to enable industry to continue during periods of municipal inactivity, a fact which is certainly significant of the frequency of strikes in the past. Another noticeable feature is the far-reaching nature of the activities of the unions. In the sub-editorial rooms of the leading newspapers may be seen labour forms, to be filled up even by men holding well-paid appointments upon the staff, giving detailed particulars of hours of duty, overtime and emoluments.
Friendly personal interest, rather than anything deeper, was perhaps apparent in what some of the Labour men said about the Prince. Friendly personal interest was always there, however. Even those who were inclined to ascribe the wonderful reception in the streets to the Prince being “a good sport, and well advertised,” readily admitted the desirability of the British connexion, and their own cordial wish to keep up old relationships in this new land. At the time of the Prince’s visit correspondence appeared in the Melbourne Press on the subject of alleged Catholic lukewarmness in regard to Royalty, and it must be said that political trouble in Ireland has not been without its echo of difficulty in Victoria, though the extent of anything of the kind might be very easily exaggerated.
The wonder is, however, not that isolated exceptions should be found, but that, with all the divergent political ideals, and conflicting social conditions, necessarily met with in a large city of such recent growth as Melbourne, so generous a measure of warm-hearted loyalty should have been manifested, loyalty in which all sections of the community, including Labour, showed themselves to be in warm accord.