Henley is followed by a carnival of racing which centres in the famous “Cup.” There is money enough in Melbourne for prize-fights, boxing-matches, and sports of all kinds. It is not much to the credit of this class of people that they cheerfully pay big prices for their lower pleasures, while the Hospital Saturday and Sunday Fund suffered last year to the extent of a thousand pounds. We have long since discovered that these pleasure-lovers have not only little love for the Church—they give very little to ordinary charity. Were the much-abused Churches to withdraw from Hospital Sunday, some of the philanthropic institutions would be compelled to close down.
The craze of the ordinary Victorian is horse-racing. He is simply mad on it. “Meetings” are frequent throughout the year. Hundreds of men live for nothing else. We have a number of parasites who live on the community, contributing nothing to its wealth or progress, and who are interested alone in betting and gambling. Gambling is one great vice of the Australian people. It has infected every class of the community. An attack upon gambling evokes no kind of enthusiasm; too many people are involved in the matter. Even some Church members will ask, with naïve innocence, “Where is the harm in gambling if you can afford it?” Taking the community as a whole, it would be an exception to find an ordinary man who did not dabble a little in gambling. The people see no harm in it. This is why the “Cup” holds such a place in the public mind. For weeks before the race all conversation turns towards Cup Day. Milliners, dressmakers, opticians, and tradesmen of every class lay themselves out to cater for “Cup” customers. The newspapers are full of it. More space is devoted in the Melbourne papers to a description of the great race than is ever given in the London journals to a description of the Derby at Epsom. If a visitor from the planet Mars came to the city he would not receive more attention than the “Cup” receives. It is a species of madness, an obsession. One-sixth of the population of the city witnesses the actual running of the race. The Governor-General is there, together with the governors of other States, who journey to Melbourne expressly for the occasion. And all to witness a race that endures exactly three minutes!
It is urged that a function of this kind is a social magnet which brings together people from all over the country; that, in fact, it is a grand opportunity for the reunion of friends. We all admit that. And there is no reason why the Melbourne Cup should not have a social significance pure and simple. If it had, it might be a healthy thing for the community. But, handicapped as it is with the gambling element, it becomes, for a number of people, a social nuisance. It is the entanglement of all our sports with the practice of betting that has ruined what might easily have become an excellent means of social cement. And it goes without saying that the wrong horse won last year. Thousands of persons had staked their all on Beragoon. The usual excuses were given for the defeat of the favourite, but the unexpected happened and Posinatus won. “It is the fortune of war and of horse-racing,” was the comment; but it is not at all likely that the fools who lost their money will learn anything as the result thereof.
If Australia had but the courage to clear itself of the gambling parasite which is sapping its best life! For so young a country to have embarked upon this dangerous path is not good. Strong nations are not built up of men to whom pleasure is the very first consideration, especially when that pleasure is tainted with betting. A sudden reverse of national fortune would sober this people and start it upon a more noble path. Pity if it does not learn without that stern necessity. What the country needs is a religious revival of a deep and genuine kind. The men of fine minds and loftier ideals, who are better patriots than the gamblers, and who desire to see healthy and pure sport encouraged and unhealthy sport discouraged, are rewarded by being dubbed “wowsers.” Undoubtedly some are too puritanical in their protest, but with many Australians there is no modus vivendi—it is all or nothing.
The zest for sport is, I imagine, even a little keener than in England. It is no uncommon thing to see at the best football matches, where, for example, the university team is playing, a considerable number of medical and other professional men. The better educated classes patronise open-air sport to a greater degree than do the corresponding classes in England. And Australian football is a little more scientific than either Rugby or Association. It is a game entirely alone. The man who seizes the ball with his hands may not run with it unless he bounces it every few yards as he runs. This is a distinct improvement upon the old game. But even here there is far too much rough play, and even brutality, in the playing of the game.
It need scarcely be said that life out here is largely an open-air life. The numerous suburbs are filled with people who come to and from the city on business. From the nearer to the remoter suburbs there is abundant space in which men and women can breathe without fear of stifling. Large, airy streets, a clear atmosphere, gardens and parks galore—everything makes for an open-air life. And the hours of business are so arranged that the invitation to the open is not a hollow mockery. From Monday to Thursday all shops close at six o’clock. On Friday they remain open until ten o’clock. On Saturdays every shop is closed at one o’clock midday. Thus business becomes service, and is never allowed to degenerate into slavery. Might not the Mother Country learn a lesson from her Southern daughter? If Melbourne can transact its business, in large and small shops alike, within reasonable hours, why cannot London do likewise? Thousands of small tradesmen in the Old Country are condemned to late hours without any reason save that of stupidity and selfishness on somebody’s part. In Australia they do not leave it to the parochial “conscience” to decide whether the shops in a given locality shall close early or not. They know human nature too well to yield to that folly. No! The hours of closing are fixed by Parliament, and the law leaves no loophole for selfish tradesmen to advantage themselves at the expense of their neighbours. You close at the appointed hour, or are subject to a heavy fine. This ampler liberty is the radical reason for the Australian’s freer, open-air life and love of sport.
Both Adelaide and Melbourne possess beautiful public gardens. Here, even in midwinter, there is a rosery in the centre of the gardens, with roses of every hue still flourishing. And in these beds a mass of splendid colour. And it is midwinter! The difficulty for a new arrival is to get accustomed to this topsy-turvydom. The good folk here are talking about the “shortest day” arriving on June 21. Day does not break until a little after seven o’clock, and it is dark before six at night. On Saturday afternoons in June football is being played, and in October cricket commences. And when Christmas arrives we shall be sweltering in the heat of midsummer. South here is the equal of north at home, and an Australian east means an English west. It is all Alice in Wonderland, a life of topsy-turvy, and it is not at all easy at first to adjust oneself to the new conditions.
CHAPTER XXV
LABOUR CONDITIONS IN AUSTRALIA
The increasing number of immigrants arriving on Australian shores is an eloquent witness to the fact that Australia is slowly winning a reputation “at home” as the “working man’s paradise.” There are always a few malcontents in every community, and amongst the immigrants there is no exception to this rule. Some come out expecting to find slabs of gold awaiting them in the streets, and they are disappointed when they discover that they will be required to work hard, especially if they go upon the land. But the majority show every sign of contentment. From a large number of new-comers I have heard practically the one comment: “We would not return to the old conditions; we are more than happy under the Southern Cross.” To cite a few cases. A boot operative, who at Kettering had earned on an average only 18s. 6d. per week for the last twelve months, came out a short time ago. Within two hours of landing he obtained a billet at a pound a week, plus board and lodging. He has practically the pound clear. This is his start. He will soon double or treble that amount. He is not yet in his own business. Indeed, for the sake of his elder child he desires to go on to the land, and his present situation is a kind of apprenticeship to his future career.