XI THE KING OF NEW ZEALAND
To-day I have had a veritable treat. By the courtesy of a few friends I was privileged to go and visit the Sobraon, that grand old flyer which, under Captain Elmslie, brought out from England to this Colony so many of her leading citizens. She is in her way almost as classic as the Mayflower or the Argo, although towering mightily above them in beauty, size, and comfort for those who sailed in her. And she has met a far happier fate than have the majority of the celebrated old clippers of the bygone days. It gives the old sailor's heart a severe pang when he occasionally comes across a ship which in her day of glory was an honour to command; to be her master conferred brevet rank and dignity which nothing could rob a man of, even though, as, alas! was often the case, he descended from her wreck to a beggared old age; sold to the Norwegians, Italians, or even to some Indian coasting firm for a drudge and a byword. Some of these old flyers perished gloriously, but most of them were degraded into timber droghers or country-wallahs, without even the consolation that their shame was hidden under a change of name.
Not so the Sobraon. Trim and taut as ever she was in her prideful days as the premier ship sailing to Sydney from England, she now lies snugly moored in one of the most beautiful bays of that most splendid of all harbours. She belongs to the Government of New South Wales, and it is her grand mission to receive and deal with those waifs and strays who in this country, with its floating and polyglot population, have drifted or may readily drift into crime. She is at once a reformatory, an elevator, and a school of the best type. And the proof of her usefulness is found in the splendid results shown from most unpromising material. For not only are many of the boys here the result of the most curious miscegenation, Chinese, negroes, aborigines, and every European race being mingled and producing some extraordinary blends, but they have, by reason of neglect and freedom of the wild, often become literally young savages. Yet so wise is the rule and so excellent the training that from this queer raw material there is turned out a really fine finished product. All the officers are enthusiasts. I protested against the boys being put through their facings to make a show for me, but I found that to refuse to witness what they could do would give not only the officers but the boys entirely unnecessary pangs of disappointment. So of course I yielded, and was exceedingly glad I did, for the spectacle I was treated to was an inspiring as well as an illuminating one. Also, the fates being propitious, during the exercises the Premier of the Colony, Mr. J. H. Carruthers, with the Japanese Admiral Shimamura and his staff, and a host of representative ladies and gentlemen, came alongside in a steamer and assisted at the function.
I have never seen anything better done, and as for the singing of the boys, well, there must be something in Australian air that makes for excellence of the vocal powers. I have never heard children sing as they sing here. I heard the children sing at rehearsal in the Town Hall for Empire Day, and was astounded at the purity and volume of their voices, and the same characteristics were noticeable here in the vocalisation of these whilom waifs. Be it remembered that they do not all become sailors; many of them go into other employments, for which they become eminently fitted here, being taught trades in addition to the peculiarly saltwater training, which fits a man to help himself, to cook, wash, mend, and rise to the occasion whatever it may be.
The food is, as might be expected here, super-excellent and plentiful, but even then there are certain luxuries, such as boys love, which may be earned by good behaviour and diligence. There are other privileges, too, as well as rewards, which may be earned in the same way, and in consequence the percentage of punishments is so low that it savours of necromancy how such boys can so readily be brought under the wholesome standard of sea discipline. And to crown all, the Sobraon has now a tender called the Dart, which is rigged as a topsail schooner and has besides a set of engines and boilers, in which the boys who wish to go to sea are trained under actual sea conditions to become deck hands or firemen, as the case may be. To sum up, the institution is a great credit to Australia, not merely to New South Wales alone, for the practical way in which it deals with the waif problem, for the object-lesson in discipline and its value which it daily presents to a people never enamoured of discipline and continually growing more impatient of the slightest restraint, and for the excellent results it shows.
Of course they (the powers that be) have been exceptionally fortunate in securing so perfectly adapted a ship as the Sobraon, and also in their superintendent of this fine enterprise, Captain W. H. Mason, whose ability, energy, and enthusiasm for his work is beautiful to witness, while it is also very pleasant to hear him speak of the manner in which his efforts are aided and backed up by the Government, no matter of what political complexion it may happen to be at the time when supplies are being voted.
And now the time draws near when I must leave Sydney for that wonderland of the South, New Zealand—leave it, too, without having had more than the slightest opportunity of visiting the interior of the country. But to tell the truth, with the exception of a few points, such as the marvellous Jenolan Caves, I have little desire to do so, knowing full well the conditions that obtain and that everywhere I shall see the same problem presenting itself, the same reason why, with all this vast area of rich country, half of the population shall be gathered within the area of a few square miles on the shores of Port Jackson.
The dire want of tillers on the soil, the men to take advantage of all that bounteous Nature has provided, is manifest everywhere outside the area of great cities like Melbourne and Sydney, while at home we have the endless cry for work, in order that those willing to work may live. It is intensely saddening to see, but there are not wanting signs that the people are awaking to what they are beginning to find is a deadly danger to their future in the coming great struggle for Empire. If only the politicians could or would cease their squabbling and hit upon some sensible plan in the working of which they could all agree! But as they very justly say, they get no object-lessons in political agreement or sensible adoption of workable plans for the removal of difficulties in the way of reform from Governments at home, pointing sarcastically to the Education Act imbroglio. And then the English visitor is fain to remain silent for very shame's sake.
Since coming to Australia, although I have met and conversed with active politicians of both parties, I have never heard a political speech until coming here. It is true that at a private official dinner tendered to Admiral Shimamura and his staff by the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth, Mr. Alfred Deakin, I heard the latter make a speech, but it was scarcely political, nor was it for publication. It was a magnificent panegyric upon the prowess in war and virtues in peace of the Japanese, delivered with great force and fluency and entirely extempore. Compared with the mumbling, halting, exasperating delivery of some of our principal legislators at home, it was a performance to fill one with envious admiration; but of course it could not be forgotten that the speech was not being reported, and that in any case the issues at stake were not in any sense momentous.
But I was invited to a banquet given in the Hotel Australia, where I was staying, by the New Zealanders in Australia to Mr. R. J. Seddon, who has just arrived here on a visit, and, curious to see the uncrowned King of New Zealand, I went. A massive man with a leonine head in front, but sloping curiously forward from the nape of the neck to the occiput, as if the back of the head had been sliced off diagonally. A hearty man who ate and drank vigorously and was almost boisterously jolly. The chairman of the banquet in his speech of welcome to their distinguished guest was in serious difficulties, being essentially a man of action rather than speech, and it was hard to say whether he suffered most in delivery or his hearers in listening. At the conclusion of the drinking of his health Mr. Seddon rose to reply, amid yells of "Kia ora! Haeremai! Ake, Ake," and other Maori salutations, and a perfect hurricane of stamping and hand-clapping. He began to speak portentously, uttering the baldest platitudes with a force and gravity that almost compelled belief that these commonplaces were now being uttered for the first time, having sprung into being there and then from the mighty brain of the speaker. For an hour he went on thundering out nothings which were received with rapturous applause whenever he paused for breath, and dispensing grave personal advice to the bunglers at Government in Britain, who were personally responsible for all the grave social evils that abound, all of which might be removed by wise legislation such as the speaker had been so largely responsible for in New Zealand. At last he sat down amid frenzied plaudits, having literally hypnotised the bulk of his audience by his magnetic and powerful personality, while taking an hour to utter what could easily have been stated in five minutes.
That, however, was but the beginning of his labours. In proposing some healths and responding for others he made four more speeches of about a quarter of an hour each before the meeting broke up, and then descended to the winter garden, where a reception had been arranged, the guests to which had been waiting for over an hour for the great man's appearance. He was greeted with rapturous applause again, and proceeded to make another long speech which I only heard the echoes of afar off, for I fled to a restful corner and meditated. But it lasted fully three-quarters of an hour. Yet I learn that he has come over here for a rest from his arduous official labours in order to avoid a breakdown! Curiously enough, this man on his vacation literally dominated the Australian politicians, talked to them as if they were well-meaning but ignorant beginners, and was fêted to the highest point. He got no rest, but that seemed to trouble him not at all. I was fain to ask some of his New Zealanders if they could tell me the secret of his power, and without exception their replies resolved themselves into this: that he never forgot a friend, however humble, and had a rare art of first browbeating and then conciliating his opponents; that he always had his ear to the ground to find out what the people wanted, and when he knew he bent his whole strength to give it to the party that was strong enough to demand it. This and his genius in being hail-fellow-well-met with even the raggedest loafer whom he had ever been friendly with, and that in any place, however public; gave him a popularity, in a land where men and women have adult suffrage, that nothing could shake. And on top of it all he had, like Mr. Gladstone, a beautiful and sympathetic home-life, lived in the open air of public scrutiny. There were no skeletons in his family cupboards, and this feature has always been and will always be an immense factor in any public man's success in Britain or a British Colony.
I have said enough for the present about Mr. R. J. Seddon, although just now he seems to be the one force which counts out here, all the other political personages being but pigmies beside him, although the whole country which he rules so successfully has not nearly double the population of either Melbourne or Sydney. He certainly is a portent, a man whom even his bitterest opponents are bound to admire and respect for his many wonderful qualities, and perhaps most of all for his amazing vigour at a time of life—sixty-one—when, especially with his corpulent figure, he might reasonably be expected to slow down a bit. Instead of which he is making a triumphal tour of the Australasian States, being everywhere received with the honours usually accorded to a great potentate.
The day arrives when I am due to leave Sydney for Auckland, and reluctantly I tear myself away from all the delights of this most beautiful and hospitable spot; only to find that the fine steamer of the Huddart Parker Line, which divides with the Union Company of New Zealand the monopoly of the Australasia-New Zealand trade, in which I was to sail, has been suddenly held back a day for no other reason obvious but the pleasure of the managers. Oh, they carry matters with a high hand out here, and if you object, well, you can so amuse yourself if you will, but it comes to nothing! I went down and had a look at the vessel though, and was filled with admiration at her fine proportions and splendid passenger accommodation. She is quite as large and far more finely fitted than the ocean liner of a quarter of a century ago, being nearly 3,000 tons register, and having all her appointments for the comfort of passengers up to date. But this business of Inter-colonial shipping has grown to stupendous proportions and cannot be dealt with casually at the fag end of a chapter, so it must stand over.