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 JllJAt^^ 
 
 THE COCKNEY COLUMBUS 
 
 LmoCw^ 
 
 
IRED 
 
 EXHAUSTED 
 PEOPLE 
 
 Find a refreshing, invigorating i estwr.it ive in the life- 
 giving, blood-purifying properties of PH03PERINE. 
 
 It nourishes the whole body, feeds the tired brain, 
 induces sleep and improves t''.e appetite. 
 
 By its aid the depleted blood of pale anaemic wi>men 
 and children is enriched and the inpurities eliminated, 
 thus imparting health and cheerfulness and vanquishing 
 
 that miserable "all gone feeling," the natural result of poor thin 
 
 blood ur deficient vitality. 
 
 P 
 
 ■ Has renewed the health of an almost countless number 
 H of broken down overworked men and women and restored 
 H rickety children to strength and activity. 
 
 ^ The exhausted student and all who have brain work or 
 
 mental worry find it an excellent reviver. 
 
 It is the only safe and certain remedy for general debility, spinal 
 exhausti(m, physical decay, loss of memorj' and nerve power. A 
 short course of treatmeiit promptly restores the enerj^/ of manhood 
 and renews the vigour of youth, sleepless nights are prevented and 
 the body regains its natural elasticity and buoyancy. 
 
 HOSFERINE 
 
 TRADE MARK. 
 
 "THE FAMILY DOCTOR," speaking c/ Phosferine in the 
 issue of February 13/A, 1S97, says: — 
 
 "This preparation may be safely recommended as a good tonic 
 in debilitattd states of the system. F'or those who suffer from 
 loss of appetite it will be found an excellent stomachic, and for 
 nervous conditions it will serve as .nn excellent nerve tonic and 
 sedative. In cases of mental cxiiaustioii, melancholia, and sleep- 
 lessness especially, it will be found valuab'e The compound is 
 put up in convenient quantities and in popular form, full directions 
 as to its use being enclosed." 
 
 Frio* (in Great Britain), BotUes, 1/1), 3/9, and 4/6; 
 Post Free, 1/3, 3/-, and 4/9. 
 
 Proprietors : ASHTON & PARSONS, Ltcl 
 
 17, FARRINGOON ROAO, LONDON, E.G. 
 
THE 
 
 COCKNEY COLUMBUS 
 
 BY 
 
 DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY 
 
 DOWNEY & CO. Limited 
 12 YORK STREET. COVENT GARDEN, LONDON 
 
 1898 
 
■ *i 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY GILBBRT AND RIVINCTON, LIMITED, 
 
 ST. John's house, clbrkenwrll, e.c. 
 
 F50 I'd 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 That portion of the present book which relates 
 to the United States of America is composed of a 
 series of letters, which, at the time of their writing, 
 served a double purpose. They were actually 
 addressed to my own home, and were primarily 
 intended to be read there, but on their way they 
 were translated into type, and appeared in the 
 columns of the New York Herald and a syndicate 
 of newspapers with which that journal is allied. 
 They offer just such surface observations as might 
 suggest themselves to any traveller, and do not 
 profess to do more than touch the deeper ques- 
 tions revealed by a close and rational study of 
 .he differences which divide the great American 
 people from ourselves. 
 
 The division is real, and at any moment it may 
 become dangerous, and this is true in spite of the 
 plain fact that there are no material interests in 
 dispute between the two countries which are 
 worth much more than the cost of the diplomatic 
 stationery employed in their determination. The 
 
VI 
 
 Preface 
 
 unguarded letter which excited in England an 
 almost incredulous amazement some two years 
 ago was read by millions of Americans with delight. 
 Millions of Americans are always ready to cheer 
 any insult or defiance which may be hurled 
 against Great Britain. There is a portion of the 
 populace of that country which is permanently 
 ready to declare war against us, which welcomes 
 every chance of an imbroglio, and strives unceas- 
 ingly to fan every ember of national misliking to a 
 flame. 
 
 The curious part of the fact is that this feeling 
 of animosity is wholly one-sided, and that there is 
 no counterpart to it amongst ourselves. Personal 
 dislikes and scorns there will be everywhere, but 
 the broad, general, and unmistakable feeling for 
 the United States at home is void of jealousy or 
 malice, compact of serene good wishes, and 
 marred only by a touch of our national and 
 characteristic air of patronage. Our settled con- 
 fidence in ourselves, our fashion of thinking 
 things excellent because we do them, or own 
 them, may answer for a certain sum of the dislike 
 with which we are regarded by a great section of 
 the American public, which will not see that it 
 shares our characteristic, and sometimes displays 
 it in an exaggerated fashion. But this of itself, 
 though a factor in the case, could not embitter 
 the whole stream of good-will which flows from 
 
Preface 
 
 vu 
 
 us to them. It seems to me that there are two 
 great plain causes for the soreness of American 
 feeling towards us, and even if my belief should 
 be mistaken, as it well may be, I feel it a duty 
 to offer it for consideration. 
 
 The United States and Great Britain were 
 once at war, and we were beaten. Looking back 
 impartially on the history of that struggle, most 
 Englishmen, nowadays, are filled with shame at 
 the ineptitude of our own rulers, and with admira- 
 tion for the valour of great-hearted men of our 
 own race, who fought for those principles of 
 self-government which were first established in 
 England. Tennyson, in that matter, has spoken 
 for us, for good and all : 
 
 What wonder, if in noble heat 
 
 Those men thine arms withstood ; 
 Retaught the lesson thou hadst taught, 
 And in thy spirit with thee fought, 
 Who came of English blood I 
 
 As a rule a victor finds it easy to be magnani- 
 mous. It is for the vanquished to scratch the 
 itch of wounded vanity. Why should a moral 
 condition otherwise universal be flatly contra- 
 dicted in one case alone ? A partial reason is that 
 on our side history has been just. For almost a 
 century no writer of ; ^pute has dared to uphold 
 the action of the British Government of that day. 
 Every later generation of Englishmen has purged 
 
Vlll 
 
 Preface 
 
 its soul of all complicity with the criminal folly 
 which made war inevitable. No living thinker 
 offers for it any better apology than is conveyed 
 in the admission that it was a wicked blunder. 
 We have spoken our word of repentance long ago. 
 Washington, the arch-rebel, is a household word 
 for duty and patriotism. He has his place in the 
 thronged Valhalla of British heroes. There is no 
 likeness in the history of nations to the place now 
 held in English nearts by the man who once took 
 up arms against us. Tlie honour in which all 
 Englishmen hold the leading spirit of the revolu- 
 tion is a thing unique in the annals of the world. 
 Never elsewhere has the vanquished held the 
 victor in such ungrudged esteem. 
 
 It is a fact to be regretted, that every citizen of 
 the United States is taught the history of that old 
 conflict in such a way as to make the hatred of 
 England a patriotic duty. It is not at all to be 
 wondered at that such histories as are still dis- 
 seminated in the schools were written. They 
 are, of course, biassed, but in the main they are 
 true. There are episodes of horrible barbarity 
 in them. These are feelingly related, as is just 
 and natural, and they excite revolt against their 
 perpetrators in the mind of any reader. The cos- 
 mopolitan American, the man of culture and 
 travel, the man of thought and reading, does not 
 hate the England of to-day because of the stories 
 
Prkface 
 
 IX 
 
 of barbarity and wronp with which his childhood 
 was familiar. But the scores of thousands who 
 have done with history when the school-doors 
 close behind them, the millions whose only 
 mental pabulum in manhood is to be found in the 
 columns of the newspapers, are faithful to early 
 opinion. 
 
 In the May of il:is present year I received 
 an invitation to address some friendly word to 
 the fiftieth gathering of the Association of State 
 Teachers, then preparing in New York. I ven- 
 tured to touch upon this subject and to say : — 
 
 " Since I am permitted to address this word of 
 greeting to a body so influential, 1 beg to be 
 allowed to make an appeal on one point, which 
 seems to me of the highest moment. There is 
 no question on which I feel so strongly as on this : 
 — The more the people of your country are made 
 to understand the true affection with which they 
 are regarded by the people of Great Britain, the 
 better it will be for us, and them, and all the 
 world. Next to the priae and affection with 
 which we regard our own land and its great de- 
 pendencies, is the pride and affection with which 
 we regard the Great Republic of the West. 
 The last itching of the sore of wounded national 
 vanity died years ago. There is no Englishman 
 worth his salt who does not espouse your side in 
 the quarrel which once divided us. In the mingled 
 
X 
 
 Preface 
 
 shame and pride with which we survey that 
 episode in our national history, our shame is all 
 for our own share in it, and our pride is all for 
 the strong men of our own blood, who retaught to 
 us the lesson we once taught the world, but had, 
 unhappily, in those foolish years, forgotten. Not 
 the press, powerful as it is, nor popular politicians, 
 eloquent and earnest as they may be, nor 
 embassies, nor Governments, have such power to 
 spread this friendly and healing truth as the 
 members of your association. When I visited 
 your country I made acquaintance with certain 
 books employed in schools which seemed to me to 
 deal with that long-buried controversy with an 
 acrimony, which, however just and natural at one 
 time, had grown out of date and needless. You 
 can afford to teach your children now that the 
 England of to-day regrets and condemns nothing 
 in its history as it regrets and condemns that 
 time. There are, thank God, many forces which 
 tend to unite us to each other, but there are some 
 influences of disruption too, and I take these 
 school-books to be one of the latter. Truth has 
 a right to be told, and Englishmen have no right 
 to shrink from it. But in this case, more than 
 in most, the whole truth is desirable. Side by 
 side with the history of arrogance and folly, set 
 down the history of regret. Teach the story of 
 the valour of your forefathers — your^children have 
 
Preface 
 
 XI 
 
 a claim to hear it — but let it be known to your 
 charges in their tender years, that not even in 
 their own land is that valour more esteemed than 
 it is amongst your old-time enemies. Tell them 
 there is no name in English annals more revered 
 by Englishmen than that of Washington." 
 
 I have no pretence to be a statesman, and I 
 have no mandate from any constituency however 
 humble, but I think that passage a fair statement 
 of the average Briton's feeling on this matter. 
 Some will tag to it a reservation, to this eifect. 
 Many such protests have been made, and it is not 
 wise to make them, because the very sense of 
 justice by which they are inspired is misconstrued 
 by a mass of people on the other side. Any 
 overture to the American mob is accepted as a 
 hint of fear. Any admission of regret for the past 
 is twisted into a petition for the future. Great 
 American Spread Eagle, spare us ! We acknow- 
 ledge our iniquities, and we do kotow before 
 you ! Not a bit of it, mfriendly tub-thumper ! 
 We desire your good-will. We admit your ill-will 
 to be natural and excusable. We acknowledge 
 that our great-grandfathers earned it, but we invite 
 you to the contemplation of the fact that there is 
 nothing any longer to be angry at, nothing any 
 longer to fight about. And if you won't take the 
 proffered hand of friendship yet, and will insist 
 on thinking that only a coward could offer it, we 
 
xu 
 
 Preface 
 
 must needs have patience, and take credit for 
 having chosen the right side at this particular 
 moment. Your best men know what we mean, 
 and between the pick of the basket on your side 
 and the pick of the basket on ours there is full 
 and warm accord, and sympathy and affection. 
 Neither you nor I, unfriendly cousin, are afraid of 
 anybody. It doesn't run in the blood. 
 
 Apart from this matter of the school-books, but 
 very near it, and presenting many elements of 
 likeness to it, is the great Irish question. There, 
 again, we are doomed to suffer for the sins of our 
 fathers. Hundreds of thousands of Irishmen have 
 crossed the Atlantic with black hatred for England 
 in their hearts, and no sane man who knows the 
 truth of their exodus can wonder at the sentiment. 
 Within our borders it is known to-day that all 
 Englishmen wish well to Ireland, that no party is 
 in favour of the old tyrannous repressions, that we 
 are united at least in a common hope for her 
 welfare, and a common striving to secure it, 
 though we differ widely as to the means to be 
 adopted. Here, again, we are ashamed of our 
 past ; and here, again, we are striving to undo it. 
 The calmer Irish politicians recognize the fact that 
 something has been done, and the old animosities 
 are toning down. But the exile in America feels 
 nothing of the ameliorating influences which have 
 been at work in his absence. Hatred is a tradition 
 
Preface 
 
 Xlll 
 
 with him, and home legislation does not easily touch 
 tradition in a foreign country. The Irish people 
 are not yet satisfied, but if they had always been 
 under the laws which now affect them — if they 
 had always been as wisely and as kindly ruled as 
 they are to-day — they would never have carried 
 the wide world over the seeds of disunion and 
 discontent. But as things are, the Irish people do 
 not live in Ireland only, and for generations yet to 
 come the American Irishman will hate us, not 
 because of what we are, but because of what our 
 feathers were. 
 
 The mistakes of our forefathers are a part of our 
 heritage. It is ours to undo them. It is ours as 
 a first step to acknowledge them in the sight and 
 hearing of all men. It is for England to cultivate 
 the good-will which England blindly alienated long 
 ago, and to endure with patience the insult and rage 
 which are the natural answer to her own deeds. 
 We can afford no quarrel with America — not in 
 the sense in which the Bowery politician reads 
 the word — but in the sense that the nobler 
 desti^ies of the world are in great measure in her 
 hands and ours. If we could achieve a real and 
 stable union with her, we could bid war to cease. 
 The thing willed by the confederated English- 
 speaking races would be willed by Heaven 
 beforehand. 
 
 This is a grave beginning to a book of such small 
 
t 
 
 XIV 
 
 Preface 
 
 pretensions, but I believe I have indicated the 
 only sources of American ill-feeling towards our- 
 selves. The school histories and the transmitted 
 Irish sentiment are alone answerable for it, and 
 for both of these we have to thank old England. 
 We may wear their influences out in time, and 
 every deed which aids that work and every word 
 which helps it forward is well worth act or speech, 
 
 David Christie Murray. 
 
 Pensarn, North Wales, 
 December :^th^ 1897. 
 
THE COCKNEY COLUMBUS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Inspired by the example of hundreds of my 
 intrepid countrymen — from Sir Francis Head to 
 Mr. Rudyard Kipling — I have resolved to discover 
 America. Wherever I have wandered, and I 
 have wandered far and wide, I have thrilled with 
 joy in the contemplation of the ^^ritish traveller. 
 His attachment to home institutions and home 
 methods, his inspired certainty in the superiority 
 of whatever is British and of home repute, and 
 his corresponding detestation for whatever is 
 novel in his experience, have made me proud. I 
 have rarely had to blush, in looking at a fellow- 
 countryman abroad, over any of those beastly 
 conciliatory ways which make many foreigners 
 contemptible. I am told that it is pleasing to 
 the people of this country to be periodically dis- 
 covered. There are only some sixty millions of 
 them, and I feel that when I come to publish I 
 shall soothe their amour propre. 
 
2 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 In addressing you, dearest lady, I can afford to be 
 thus candid. If I were writing for publication, 
 now, I might be disposed to confess that what the 
 Americans think of me is, to me, a vastly more 
 important question than what I think about the 
 Americans is to them. But I promised you my 
 sincerest opinions, and, such as they are, poor 
 things, you are welcome to them. 
 
 It is a little impertinent to begin to write so 
 early, but there is an advantage in the method, 
 too. If it is, as yet, absurd to form theories, it 
 would, by and by, be too late to revive first 
 impressions, and they are often the most vivid 
 and valuable. Every Englishman who is worth 
 his salt has his hopes and fears about America,, 
 and, above all, every Englishman who is worth 
 his salt hopes for the growth and continuance of 
 her friendship. For my own part I came with 
 hopes so large that my one fear is to find them 
 unfulfilled. It has been the dream of my life to 
 see the English-speaking people wherever they 
 inhabit, and I have told you of that dream a 
 hundred times at least, w'hen I started on that 
 quest five and a half years ago, and set out for 
 Australia, I encountered a terrible shock to my 
 natural and inborn parochialism. I found a 
 prodigious number of people who did not love and 
 admire England as I did. I found a smaller 
 number of people, speaking my native language. 
 
First Impressions 
 
 who hated the country in which their fathers and 
 their mothers had their birth. I heard of the 
 hatefulness of our greed, the shamelessness of our 
 oppression, the hypocrisy of our rulers, and the 
 perfidy of our peaceful conquests. I was told 
 that our history was one of open theft, or pilfering 
 annexation or disgraceful purchase. I was told 
 many hard things, some of which are true enough, 
 and for none of which I was in the least degree 
 responsible. I expected an English enthusiasm 
 equal or superior to my own, and it chilled and 
 discomfited me not to find it. 
 
 Here in the United States I find, so far, an 
 equal surprise in exactly the opposite direction. 
 I say " so far," and I know that I cannot expect 
 to make an intimate acquaintance with the 
 country without hearing a note or two which I 
 shall find discordant. So far I have heard but 
 one note c^ discord, and that was sounded by an 
 Englishman. He has been here a year or two, 
 hates the country and hates the people, tells 
 everybody so with an outspoken vigour, and is 
 painfully surprised to find himself unpopular. He 
 assured me he was hated because he was an 
 Englishman. I have found myself treated with 
 a genuine and cordial friendship on that very 
 ground. I presume that the Americans are very 
 much like other people in this respect, that they 
 prefer to be treated with civility. In England we 
 
 B 2 
 
4 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 say " in the street " or " at the corner." In the 
 Victoria Hotel in London I saw a cockney and a 
 New Yorker get to actual fisticuffs on the question 
 as to whether it should not be " on the street " 
 and " on the corner." It was not the philological 
 question which led to results so serious, but the 
 Englishman was good enough to say that nobody 
 but a fool of an unmentionable sort would dream 
 of using the form against which he argued. I 
 have very rarely met a man who liked to be told 
 that he was a fool. Even I, inured as I am by 
 habit, have a lingering objection to the statement 
 when I hear it made. And a question of verbal 
 propriety may be discussed, by gentlemen, 
 without any such deviation from the strict line of 
 argument. 
 
 When we passed through New York six weeks 
 ago it was with a rush, and the city fairly 
 terrified me. Compared with Twenty-third 
 Street our London Strand is a garden of sleep. 
 Such a dreadful sway of life and a hurry of coming 
 and going, such a roar of traffic and clanging of 
 bells as I made acquaintance with in one short 
 afternoon, I had never dreamed of. The elevated 
 railway stretches away before and behind in a 
 protracted monotony of ugliness, and the engines 
 pant and scream. Huge trams dash over a 
 resounding stone pavement with a noise like 
 thunder. Purposeful people stride along — thou- 
 
Noise and Hurry 5 
 
 sands of them — each as earnest as if he carried 
 in his pocl^et a reprieve from execution for some 
 dear friend. Loungers and shopping people 
 lounge and shop, each figure an oasis in the 
 populous desert of bustle. You and I know many 
 cities, but we know none which, compared with 
 New York, looks occupied, or which makes half 
 so much noise in the pursuit of its occupatirn. 
 lo sit at a window and watch it all would be 
 delightful. A treble window, carefully padded at 
 all places at which sound could enter, would make 
 the spectacle entirely enjoyable. But to be down 
 in the midst of it and to preserve composure 
 demands a less harassed sjt of nerves than 
 mine. 
 
 Only the other day a gentleman in Boston 
 showed me a cutting from one of the satirical 
 prints. It presented two pictures, side by side. 
 In one Colonel William Cody, known better to 
 you by name as ** Buffalo Bill," was depicted in the 
 full triumph of the slaughter of, I think, his twenty- 
 seventh grizzly in the Rocky Mountains. He has 
 one foot on the prostrate monarch of the moun- 
 tain, and one hand, waving in the air, grasps a 
 rifle. The pose i"> wildly noble, and indicative of 
 courage triumphant. The companion picture 
 shows the same man in the act of crossing Broad- 
 way. He hangs limp and helpless on the arm 
 of a policeman, and his eyes are rolling with 
 
The Cockney Columbus 
 
 terror. I don't accept this as a literal fact in the 
 career of the hero of the Wild West show, but I 
 quote it as showing that I am not altogether 
 alone in thinking that a New York crossing holds 
 some element of excitement. 
 
 There are few private vehicles to be seen. 
 The pavement of the roadways is atrocious, and 
 so thickly intersected with tramway lines that a 
 narrow wheeled vehicle would be in constant 
 danger of ruin. The other day I bought a copy 
 of the American edition of the Review of Reviews. 
 I found in it a portrait of the Mayor of the city, 
 Mr. Gilroy. He looks like a sane and truthful- 
 minded man, but he lias been to Paris, and after 
 inspecting the pavement there he says that it will 
 not compare with that of New York. These 
 patriotic delusions are very curious, and one finds 
 them everywhere. But the more one knows of 
 the world, the less offended one is by that blind- 
 fold parish form of patriotism. 
 
 The Americans do not mind noise so much as 
 we do, or if they find it disagreeable they endure 
 it with a patience which is perhaps the result of 
 education. That is one's first impression. You 
 are in a country where people are doing 
 business, and they let you know it. The rail- 
 way engines roar into the great termini bang- 
 ing bells. The street cars ring bells. They 
 ring a bell to warn you out of their devouring 
 
Noise and Hurry 
 
 ;h as 
 dure 
 It of 
 You 
 
 way. They ring a bell when they take a pas- 
 senger's fare, and they ring a bell to start the 
 car or to stop it. In the hotels electric bells 
 tingle all day long. Telephone calls are every- 
 where. My nerves are surcharged with clang- 
 ings and tinglings as if with electricity. Even in 
 quiet Boston in what are known as " the con- 
 gested districts" it is an adventure to cross a 
 street, and the noise is deafening and confusing. 
 You see there the electric tramway cars (called 
 " electrics " — for here language is in as great a 
 hurry as everything else, and we have no time to 
 waste in drawling the full name of anything) — you 
 see the ** electrics " so thick along the line for a 
 hundred yards that the huge vehicles almost 
 touch each other. The power which drives them 
 is conveyed by an overhead wire, and in the night 
 time these wires rain down miniature lightnings. 
 The cars are crowded beyond endurance. The 
 conductor packs his fares remorselessly, and men 
 and women stand for miles holding on to straps of 
 leather, while the flying coaches pitch like boats 
 at sea. ** Forward, there ! Forward, if you 
 please ! " and the swaying flock moves forward 
 until there are ten people to every four seats 
 mside, and the front and rear platforms are 
 covered with men who hang on apparently by 
 miracle. The cars are the property of a business 
 corporation, and in any other country in the world 
 
8 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 ( ' 
 
 
 the rapacity of that corporation would be checked 
 in a week. 
 
 But this American people, as I see more and 
 more every day, has one great unexpected 
 characteristic. There is a spirit of patience here, 
 the like of which I have never found elsewhere. 
 I shall tell you more of that as I go on, but in the 
 meantime I content myself with recording the fact. 
 I have some surprising examples in my mind — 
 things which might look natural in Turkey, for 
 example. But here is a nation which has 
 replenished the earth and subdued it, as no people 
 ever did before in the history of mankind — a 
 people effervescing with energy, rich in the genius 
 of resource, crammed full of all the devices the 
 amplest brains can find for them, a people 
 courageous, hardy, wise — ! I look on in amaze- 
 ment, and in a week I learn that this masterful, 
 dominant, go-ahead people, which has been my 
 admiration for a lifetime, is robbed and jobbed, 
 and hustled and bustled by a myriad of self- 
 seekers, and endures them all. If I were a painter 
 or sculptor, and had to paint or carve an emblem 
 of America, I would give you an image of Patience. 
 Or — this would do : A Sphinx of a new pattern. 
 The head that of a man — the forehead splendid — 
 the eyes benevolent — the mouth shrewd and 
 sweetened with humour. The body that of a 
 milch cow and a crowd of pigmies tugging at the 
 udders. Motto : " Let 'em tug! There's plenty ! " 
 
New England Autumn 
 
 >» 
 
 If it were not for the tramcars, the pavements 
 and the elevated railway, New York would be one 
 of the noblest cities of the world. As it is, it is 
 overshadowed, noisy, half-obstructed, confused ; a 
 Malebolgc of a place, worse than London, worse 
 than Paris. In the course of nature it had nothing 
 more difficult to contend with than either. Our 
 underground railway is a stcnching nuisance, 
 to be sure, but it is only a nuisance to the 
 people who travel by it. The elevated railway 
 is a nuisance to the world at large, an obstruction 
 to traffic, an obstruction to sunlight, an invasion 
 of privacy, and away out of all whooping distance 
 the most astonishing monument to ugliness the 
 world can show. Now, I am informed, the New 
 York engineers arc going to burrow. Then it 
 is to be hoped they will pull the elevated rail- 
 way down, free their streets, and make their city 
 visible. 
 
 There is no mortal thing this people can't do 
 when once it makes up its mind. New York is 
 awake, and is going to manage its own affairs. I 
 got here just in time to hear the public declaration 
 to that effect. I should like to see the city in a 
 dozen years' time. 
 
 Since I landed I have spent nearly all my time 
 in New England. I wished I had Bernard Evans 
 there to paint the splendours of the autumn. We 
 have a sombre glory of our own in the fall of the 
 year. You remember the Yorkshire dales of '92. 
 
10 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 But the vividness, the fiery glow, the jewelled 
 glory of the New England woods is unrivalled. 
 
 They tell me this has been a tame year, because 
 of the unusual absence of early frost, but to me it 
 was a revelation, and will be a memory until I die. 
 I was driven out from Newtonville a week or two 
 ago to see the house in which Hawthorne laid the 
 scene of his " Blythedale Romance." There were 
 trees the foliage of which was pure, bright, 
 dragon's-blood red. There were trees of fullest 
 and purest Indian yellow. There were browns 
 and russets and scarlets and cadmiums — Nature 
 had emptied her colour box. And a November 
 sun like that of an English August burned in a sky 
 of merest Italian, and the soft haze of the late 
 Indian summer — what we call a martin's summer 
 — made the near distance a rich purple. Bref — 
 one of the feasts of a lifetime. 
 
 To any EngHshman of letters New England is 
 and must be delightful. Last Saturday fortnight 
 I sat in the chair which has been occupied by 
 Agassiz and Whittier, and Hawthorne and Long- 
 fellow, and Emerson and Lowell, and Holmes. 
 Sixteen miles away from Boston, in old Salem, 
 there is a House with Seven Gables, and the 
 shadow of it seems to cast a twilight of romance 
 over the whole country. I felt pretty much as I 
 used to do in my constant pilgrimages to 
 Stratford-on-Avon. At Manchester-on-Sea the 
 
The Priscilla 
 
 II 
 
 other night I looked out of my host's windows into 
 the moonHght and saw that very Reef of Norman's 
 Woe on which the skipper and his httle daughter 
 went down in the wreck of the Hesperus ! 
 
 And thinking of Longfellow reminds me of the 
 Puritan maiden Priscilla. And the maiden's 
 name brings to mind the most astonishing thing 
 I have yet seen in this big country. The Priscilla 
 is a boat, or so they tell me. It is a thing built 
 in stories, and about as high as the Pyramids, 
 more or less. It is not quite as long as from 
 Hyde Park Corner to Charing Cross. You walk 
 from the dock into an entrance hall paved with 
 mottled concrete. There is room here for a pair 
 of tennis courts. You don't believe it, but you 
 are " on board." You go up a huge great stair- 
 case, and you find yourself in a concert hall, in 
 which there is ample room to seat a thousand 
 people; quite a moderate sized apartment in 
 comparison with " the boat." The boat ! Ha ! 
 ha ! The boat ! You go up another magnificent 
 staircase, and you lose yourself in hundreds of 
 yards of lordly corridor. You find another vast 
 chamber — a reading-room this time. There is 
 plush velvet enough to upholster several theatres. 
 There are gilding and moulding enough to furnish 
 forth a whole London suburbful of parlours. 
 There are twelve hundred beds in bedrooms — not 
 berths, but bedrooms, some of them furnished in 
 
12 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 the richest style. There are more staircases and 
 more stories, and there is a restaurant, Hke a 
 football field for its dimensions, and you laugh at 
 the ridiculous Aladdin, who made his genii build 
 such a city of a vessel under the impression that 
 it is in the power of any machinery made by man 
 to make the " derned " thing move. And while 
 you are sniggering and wondering when the 
 skipper and his officers are going to apolgize for 
 the whole gigantic hoax, bells begin to ring and 
 machinery begins to move, and away you glide, 
 majestic, impossible (they take the impossible in 
 the ordinary way of business here), and before you 
 know it you are doing three and twenty miles an 
 hour. 
 
 I may add that the vessel is built in open 
 defiance of the laws of gravitation, and answers all 
 its purposes admirably. I add, also, that you 
 may take a grain of salt with this description — a 
 grain, no more. I will secure for you and send 
 you the actual dimensions of this aquatic monster. 
 I sailed in her from New York to Boston before 
 my acquaintance with America was twelve hours 
 old., and she seemed to me as if she had been 
 built on purpose to offer a sort of letter of 
 credentials from this gigantic Republic to the 
 visiting stranger. 
 
 ■m 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A MEMORABLE and delightful experience has 
 befallen me. I have had the honour of dining 
 with the Loyal Legion. When the four 
 tremendous years of the civil war came to a close 
 the Loyal Legion was formed. It consisted solely 
 of officers of the Northern Army who had spent at 
 least one year with the colours. Elder sons of 
 original members of the Legion are eligible to fill 
 the places of their fathers as they fall away, and the 
 body may therefore be looked upon as a practically 
 eternal reminder and celebrant of the prolonged 
 and awful combat out of which the United States 
 of America arose to solid greatness as a people 
 and a power. The dinner was one of the most 
 striking object lessons of my life, and if you will 
 have patience with me, I will tell you how and 
 why. 
 
 It is natural that the capital city should include 
 a far larger body of war veterans than are to be 
 found elsewhere, for the vast majority of them are 
 
14 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 £ 
 
 hi 
 
 'I 
 i 
 
 Mt 
 
 now engaged in commerce and business enterprises 
 of one sort or another. The New York Com- 
 mandery of the Legion numbers about eleven 
 hundred men, and of these, on the occasion on 
 which I was invited to dine, some six or seven 
 hundred gathered at Delmonico's. There were no 
 carpet warriors among them. They were all the 
 genuine thing, though a casual glance around the 
 packed house after dinner showed so many faces 
 which bore the signs of no more than early middle 
 age that it was hard to believe that ninety-nine 
 per cent, of the men present had actually taken 
 part in the great conflict of so many years ago. 
 Some of the survivors — many of them, indeed — 
 were gray and grizzled enough, but the most 
 striking thing about the whole congregation was 
 the testimony it bore to the vitality of the race. 
 
 The gentleman to whose influence I was 
 indebted for my invitation had spent four years 
 at the front ; had fought in thirty great battles, 
 and countless skirmishes, and had been shot 
 through the body. He held the commission of 
 colonel, and is now engaged in the tea trade, an 
 occupation sufficiently unwarlike. On my left sat 
 a veteran general who had had the top of his 
 skull carried away by a fragment of shell, and 
 who was introduced to me by General Horace 
 Porter, the president of the evening, as a man 
 remarkable for losing — and keeping — his head 
 
CiNCINNATUS IN RETIREMENT 
 
 15 
 
 under extraordinary conditions. Next to him sat 
 an equally venerable commodore, who had lost a 
 leg in the service. Everywhere there were 
 memories of valour, and every here and there a 
 scar or a dismemberment as a visible token. 
 There were scores of men there who had fought 
 in a score of pitched battles, hundreds of tough 
 war-dogs who had faced pestilence in the camp 
 and famine on the march, and death by shot and 
 shell and bayonet, and sabre, in trench, and fortress, 
 and field. 
 
 And now they formed for the most part a very 
 fair and ordinary sample of the elite of New York 
 business enterprise. One had control of a street 
 car system, and another controlled a railway, and 
 a third had an office at the docks. They had all 
 turned their spears into ploughshares and their 
 swords into reaping hooks. Now it might not be 
 impossible to find in any of the great European coun- 
 tries and to mass together in a single hall an equal 
 number of gentlemen with a similar war record. 
 But the astonishing fact which would obtrude 
 itself upon his mind, and would insist on being 
 looked at, was that all these veterans, and many 
 hundred thousands more of their fellow citizens, 
 had, at the close of that unequalled struggle, laid 
 down the arms which they had borne with so 
 much valour and resolution, and had at once, with 
 no interregnum, turned themselves back to those 
 
i6 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 1-: 
 
 . 
 
 tranquil arts and pursuits to which they had been 
 accustomed before the voice of imperative duty 
 called them to the field. When I was a school- 
 boy I was taught that it was my duty to admire 
 Cincinnatus. When the Romans wanted a 
 general to beat back the Volscians they sought 
 Cincinnatus and found him at the plough. When 
 he had beaten the Volsci he went back to the 
 plough. I have always thought the classic hero 
 venerable on that ground, but in the United 
 States of America, at the close of the great war of 
 the Union, there was not one Cincinnatus, but a 
 million. 
 
 This, as men like to say here, is *' cold fact,'* 
 and it means something. It shows an extra- 
 ordinary adaptability, and it shows it in a double 
 way. The million copyists of Cincinnatus were 
 peaceful citizens to begin with, and had no more 
 idea of war than business men commonly have 
 anywhere. They had not even been accustomed 
 to the phrases and the smaller mechanisms of it, 
 as our own people have been by the growth of the 
 volunteer movement. They made, in a surpris- 
 ingly short time, as good fighting stuff as the world 
 ever saw. They fought as long as they were wanted 
 to fight, and when they had done their business, 
 and were disbanded, they showed the world 
 such a spectacle of the orderly reabsorption of a 
 great civilian army into the ranks of common 
 
Makers of History 
 
 17 
 
 life as it had never before witnessed in all its 
 history. 
 
 I don't say — I don't believe — that no other 
 nation could have done it. But I know that no 
 other people have done it on the same gigantic 
 scale, with such an amazing swiftness. You argue 
 from it, adaptability, promptness, valour, tenacity, 
 and above all, an individual and national sanity 
 that is quite without parallel. 
 
 So much the Cockney Columbus saw and owned 
 with admiring soul years before he touched these 
 shores, and he has been, and still is, and probably 
 always will be, at a loss to reconcile it with the 
 turbulent excitement of the surface aspect of affairs 
 in some directions, and the curiously phleg- 
 matic indifference which shows itself in others. 
 But I have not done with the Loyal Legion yet. 
 It is always a pleasant and inspiring thing to 
 meet with men who have been concerned in the 
 manufacture of history — the men whose deeds have 
 produced the actual results we see. But for the 
 privileged visitor to this table a double pleasure is 
 reserved. The Loyal Legion is not only composed 
 of men who had made history, but it is a part of 
 its business to conserve it, and at each one 
 of the five dinners it holds throughout the year it 
 is the custom for some known and honoured 
 veteran to bring his own personal contribution of 
 reminiscence. 
 
i8 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 On the occasion of my visit Commodore Irvine 
 was the central figure of the evening. He read a 
 plain, sailor-like story of an episode of intense 
 interest, in which he himself had been one of 
 the moving figures, and told his tale with a 
 modesty and reticence which made it doubly 
 charming. Then, when the narrator, whose ad- 
 vancing years made a prolonged stay inadvisable 
 for him, had gone away, v/e had another story 
 about a more modern adventure of his, which was 
 related with admirable humour by the president 
 of the evening. It appeared from this history — 
 the nautical flavour of which I have not the 
 technical knowledge to preserve in its fulness — 
 that the Commodore was cruising down Broad- 
 way something after eight bells at night, 
 without convoy or escort, when he spied a 
 couple of suspicious craft to starboard. He 
 put his own helm hard aport and steered 
 for the main channel, but the suspicious craft 
 closed in upon him, one on either side. One he 
 disabled by a strategic offensive operation of the 
 starboard fin, but the second made a grab at his 
 watch. Him, the veteran officer put hors de 
 combat by running him through the body with 
 an umbrella, and having made him fast by opening 
 it on the other side, bore down for the nearest 
 police-station. I wish I could give you an idea 
 of the comic vim with which the tale was told, or 
 
National Solidity 
 
 19 
 
 odore Irvine 
 He read a 
 e of intense 
 been one of 
 tale with a 
 3 it doubly 
 r, whose ad- 
 inadvisable 
 lother story 
 ;, which was 
 le president 
 is history — 
 Lve not the 
 :s fulness — 
 •wn Broad- 
 at night, 
 le spied a 
 'oard. He 
 nd steered 
 cious craft 
 e. One he 
 tion of the 
 :rab at his 
 it hors de 
 body with 
 by opening 
 lie nearest 
 u an idea 
 as told, or 
 
 of the roar of jolly laughter which went up when 
 the speaker added that this was the only occasion 
 in historv in which a navnl officer had been known 
 to object to his watch being taken by another 
 man ! That, by the way, is a very fair sample of 
 the "comedy relief" of American after-dinner 
 speech. The practised speaker fires funny stories 
 at you by the half-dozen, and gets a point or an 
 illustration out of five of them at least. The sixth 
 he is content to tell for its own sake, and for its 
 own sake his audience is unfailingly glad to get it. 
 Not even yet, though since I have been here I 
 have listened to more banquet talk than I have in 
 twelve months in England, have I listened to one 
 of those dull diatribes which at home make life an 
 occasional burden. 
 
 ' The dinner with the Loyal Legion, and the 
 remembrances it brought to mind, set me think- 
 ing of another matter in which one notices, in 
 contrast to innumerable contradictions, that same 
 broad-beamed and settled sanity which declared 
 itself in the swift disbanding of a fighting force 
 and its reabsorption into civil life. I am thinking 
 of the Coxeyites, at whose proceedings we stared 
 from the other side of the Atlantic as if a whole 
 new world were in flames. America seemed to 
 put out the fire, as I said the other day, by a mere 
 expectoration. It is only a few months since the 
 strange phenomenal thing arose to startle all 
 
 c 2 
 
ao 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 
 
 Europe, but here it seems already forgotten. 
 Nobody talks of it or thinks of it. It is ancient 
 history, and as uninteresting to the millions whose 
 peace seemed threatened by it as if it had 
 happened a thousand years ago. So again with 
 the late volcanic upheaval in Chicago, with its 
 riots, its incendiary fires, its pitched fights, and 
 its spectacle of a vast civilized community in 
 momentary paralysis. 
 
 Somewhere down below, we may be sure of it, 
 those fires still slumber. They will break out 
 again, and again, and again, for the labour 
 question is only at its beginning here, and there 
 are some huge problems to be solved before we 
 have done with it. Everybody is aware of this, 
 but people are oddly calm and easy about it. 
 They will deal with the matter when the time 
 comes. It will deal with itself, arrange itself. 
 " We foresee, we know, but we have the pro- 
 foundest confidence in our institutions. All will be 
 well in the end. Let great nature work. Let her 
 have her own way, and develop in her own fashion. 
 How can we hinder her ? " With this confidence 
 there seems to be mixed up a good deal of 
 indifferentism. Each community grows its own 
 dragons, and each community is expected to do 
 its own fighting. Show a real calamity anywhere 
 — a devastating flood or a devouring forest fire — 
 and money and help flow in from every quarter. 
 
I 
 
 Fight with Tammany 
 
 21 
 
 y forgotten, 
 t is ancient 
 illions whose 
 5 if it had 
 > again with 
 go, with its 
 fights, and 
 nmunity in 
 
 ^e sure of it, 
 break out 
 the labour 
 ;, and there 
 1 before we 
 are of this, 
 ;y about it. 
 n the time 
 ange itself, 
 ^e the pro- 
 All will be 
 Let her 
 wn fashion, 
 confidence 
 d deal of 
 i^s its own 
 cted to do 
 anywhere 
 rest fire — 
 ■y quarter. 
 
 The heart is as open in a case like that, and the 
 aid forthcoming is as generous and immediate as 
 it is in England. 
 
 But in these labour wars the interest New York 
 takes in Chicago or Chicago takes in any other 
 point as far removed does not seem to be more 
 personal and alive than it would be if the events 
 transacted themselves in Germany or Russia. 
 Perhaps the mere physical size of the country has 
 something to do with this, and perhaps the same 
 fact of size may account for the other fact that the 
 outbreaks themselves are local and confined. 
 
 Almost everything I observe confirms the first 
 distinct impression that on the whole the great 
 striking characteristic of the American people is 
 patience. Its easy, long-suffering endurance of 
 the curable is the one thing which makes this 
 nation look different from all others. They are 
 rising now against official corruption, but the 
 revelations made before the Lexow committee 
 indicate a condition of things against which any 
 other nation would have rebelled years ago. 
 There never was anywhere under free institutions 
 a body so shamelessly and daringly corrupt as 
 that whose inner workings are now being laid 
 open day by day. I learn that all who cared to 
 know this knew it long ago, but they endured it. 
 
 Even American patience has snapped at last. 
 But would any other have endured the strain so 
 
22 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 lon^ ? For my own part I cannot find a 
 satisfactory explanation of the truth which stares 
 me in the face, nor can I find anybody who is of 
 real help in the inquiry. One man tells me that 
 the patience I speak of is the result of indolence. 
 But how can that be true of the most active and 
 bustling people under heaven ? Another man 
 tells me it is nothing more or less than a selfish 
 indifference. But how is that to be charged 
 against a people who are themselves the sufferers, 
 and who are proverbially generous and alert ? 
 The suggestion that individual life is so full and 
 hurried that the day's private work and pleasure 
 absorbs the whole day's energy may possibly have 
 a touch of truth in it. 
 
 The other night I was taken out to look at 
 poverty, and was warned that I had dreadful 
 experiences before me. A city as big as New York 
 must necessarily, under existing conditions, include 
 within its boundaries many people who find the 
 struggle for e::istence bitter, but of poverty as I 
 know of it in the slums of London, of Paris, and 
 in a hundred other places I saw positively nothing. 
 I went through Chinatown, under the escort of a 
 Mohawk princess, a very charming and amiable 
 lady, who is engaged in Christian mission work. 
 I was shown and introduced to a number of 
 American girls who have contracted marriages 
 with Chinamen, and most of them have learned 
 
In China Town 
 
 33 
 
 to smoke opium. The pipe and its paraphernalia 
 were put in evidence twice or thrice, but nobody 
 seemed very much the worse 
 
 The young women were all respectably and 
 cleanly dressed. One or two of them looked like 
 ladies, and talked like ladies. One had graduated 
 in a woman's college — a pretty, delicate girl, with 
 every sign of refinement still about her. None of 
 them had lived this strange life long, and none of 
 them seemed as yet dissatisfied with it. The 
 rooms they inhabited were cramped and small, but 
 in every case clean and tidy. Pictures and Chinese 
 texts of welcome decorated the walls. But for an 
 oppressive want of air, and something left to be 
 desired in regard to space, the quarters were 
 altogether tolerable. 
 
 We heard of an odd case of cure by a Chinese 
 doctor. One of the girls had suffered from 
 diphtheria, and the man of medicine had prescribed 
 for her a piece of pounded porcelain, mixed with 
 vinegar. She took this strange prescription, and 
 was quite persuaded that it had cured her. In any 
 case she was there, alive and well. We came upon 
 the doctor afterwards, standing half-way up the 
 steps that led to his cellar doorway. He was 
 smiHng blandly on the street like a placid old 
 yellow tom cat, with his pigtail curled on the top 
 of his wrinkled sconce like a sleeping snake. 
 
 Not very far away is a mission house known as 
 
24 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 i 
 
 the Door of Hope, and this we also visited. A 
 service was being held, and perhaps fifty or sixty 
 people were gathered there. A young and ignorant 
 layman made a halting show of conducting the 
 meeting. He boggled through a talk which was 
 full of the common irreverence, crudity, and vain- 
 glory. He had been the chief of sinners, he said, 
 and among other things he told us that the Lord 
 had been merciful with him in his struggle against 
 the baleful habit of smoking cigarettes. He made 
 a great point of this, and dwelt on it for two or 
 three minutes. Several of his congregation were 
 drunk and snoring, and the rest were, of course, 
 bored and uninterested. A perfunctory lady said, 
 *' Praise the Lord," at intervals, and everywhere 
 there was a woeful lack of unction. 
 
 There were none of the more galling signs of 
 poverty here, but there were faces which were 
 simply and merely terrible to look at. One only 
 sees such faces in great cities — faces crushed out 
 of human semblance almost, so vile in colour that 
 they looked bruised, so softened and relaxed with 
 indulgence in base luxuries that they might have 
 been modelled in over-ripe fruit — ghastly faces — 
 sights and memories to make the heart ache. 
 Not all were of this hopeless type, for some were 
 as intelligent and alive as one could wish, and one 
 or two I supposed to have been been drawn there 
 by mere curiosity or idleness — they looked so 
 
 __lz= 
 
The Door of Hope 
 
 25 
 
 distinct from the slattern crowd. They sang a 
 hymn with gusto. It had a chorus which began, 
 " I'm the child of a King — I'm the child of a 
 King." A drunken, unbonnetted girl in the first 
 row, with her red arms rolled up in her apron, 
 said, " Now let's sing thirty-six, and then we'll go 
 into the world again." 
 
 I was asked to speak, and though I was 
 reluctant at first, I consented. I have addressed 
 a thousand audiences, but never one like that. I 
 was strongly moved, and I said a plain word or 
 two about bodily cleanliness and cleanliness of 
 mind. Two or three stood up in that feeble 
 hysteria on which the hysteric evangelist reckons 
 for success, and wanted to begin a new life then 
 and there. A dozen of them shook hands as I left 
 the room. One woman, more lax and hopeless and 
 terrible to look at than the rest, held my hand hard 
 and said, '* God bless you ! " I answered, " God 
 bless you, too, my dear," hardly knowing what 
 words I used. She -.tared at me in a stricken way, 
 inexpressibly touching. I suppose no decent man 
 had given her such a word for years. 
 
 All the great cities of the world bold these 
 dreadful, pitiable people. They are the crime of 
 civilization — the gangrene of luxury. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 It begins to dawn upon the flippant explorer that 
 within the limits of the four million anci •'^r: 
 square miles which make up the United States 
 there are more Americas than he will et.sily find 
 time to discover, even if he should devote what 
 remains of a lifetime to the task. The newest 
 comer, who boasts the slightest acquaintance 
 with the history and fiction of the country, may 
 expect to find a difference between the descendant 
 of the fiery and chivalrous pedigreed Virginian 
 and the grandson of Sam Slick, the clockmaker, 
 who was probably oblivious of the fact that he 
 had a great-grandfather. He would be prepared 
 for a certain variation between the seea of the old 
 Knickerbocker and the children of the Westerr. 
 Argonauts. 
 
 But no man will realize, until he at least begins 
 to see it for himself, that extiaordinary variety of 
 races which exists here and makes life richer in 
 social, racial, and individual contrast than it is 
 anywhere else on the surface of the globe. 
 
 
Racial Mixtures 
 
 27 
 
 :er tliai 
 id 0:1.. 
 States 
 ily find 
 e what 
 newest 
 ntance 
 y, may 
 endant 
 •ginian 
 naker, 
 bat he 
 spared 
 he old 
 estern 
 
 begins 
 
 iety of 
 
 ler in 
 
 it is 
 
 A much travelled American put the case to me 
 thus only a few days ago : — ** In Ireland you meet 
 Irishm'^n ; in Scotland, Scotchmen ; in France, 
 the people are French ; in Germany, German ; in 
 Italy, Italian. Here a Frenchman cooks your 
 meals, a German makes your bread and brews 
 your beer, a Chinaman does your washing, a 
 negro blacks your boots, and an Irishman carries 
 your portmanteau from your hotel room to your 
 cab." There \6 a perfect mosaic of races, and 
 they all go to make up this great agglomeration 
 of the United States. The powers of absorption 
 the country owns have until within the last few 
 years been quite omnivorous. British cockney, 
 British yokel, Sandy, Pat, Jacques Dubois, 
 familiar with the Maison Rouge ; dandy flrxneur 
 of the boulevards, shabby Masaniello of Naples, 
 many-quartered noble of Lombardy or Rome, 
 artisan of Budapest, perfumed Hebraic wanderer 
 from Warsaw, Slav and Scandinavian, well 
 goboren Herr and spectacled professor — all these, 
 and Heaven alone knows how many more, came 
 to this great American River of Life, and plunged 
 therein, and straightway became Americans. 
 
 The second gciieration Americanized the most 
 obdurate. At the third generation names 
 remained to indicate racial origin. Golden locks 
 were still golden, and swart skins still swarthy. 
 But the genius of the land was overwhelming. 
 
. 
 
 28 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 iili 
 
 ll! 
 
 and an agglomeration of all European peoples 
 became one folk, speaking one language, ani- 
 mated by one patriotism and identified with one 
 national growth. It needs no special wisdom to 
 note that there must come a time when what 
 chemists call the point of saturation will be 
 reached. In the opinion of a great many 
 A:T?ericans, and those not the least observant, 
 thj nt has been reached already, and there is 
 certainly ground for the belief. In a hundred 
 years the population of the United States has 
 been multiplied twenty times or thereabouts. 
 The growth has been mainly from without, and it 
 speaks wonders for the virility of the language that 
 it has leavened such an enormous foreign element. 
 The national tongue conquered newcomers just 
 as the national institutions did, but from hence- 
 forth, if the influx should be allowed to go on at 
 anything like the old rate, the process of absorp- 
 tion will naturally grow slower and more difficult. 
 As an illustration, let me offer you a very 
 significant fact which came under my notice no 
 later than last night. I was turning over the 
 leaves of an American and Canadian newspaper 
 directory, a closely printed tome of many 
 hundreds of pages. At the end of it I found 
 two-and-twenty columns of small type devoted to 
 the titles and addresses of papers printed in 
 foreign languages. There are nearly fifteen 
 
 ill 
 
 /j^tfT^afil^ 
 
Foreign Journals 
 
 29 
 
 hundred of them. The vast majority are 
 German ; then come French, and afterward a 
 whole string of varying nationalities. There are 
 Russian, Polish, Hungarian, Italian, Scan- 
 dinavian, Gaelic, Erse, and Chinese journals. 
 The Erse newspapers are, of course, a learned 
 freak, but all the rest are purchased and read by 
 a natural public. Canada, with its settled and 
 conservative French population and its whole 
 imported Scottish clans, is answerable for a good 
 many of the French newspapers and for nearly 
 all the Gaelic. I have not seen them yet, but I 
 have learned of the existence of communities 
 where the German element is so preponderant 
 that it resists the teaching of English in the 
 schools. It goes without saying that the resist- 
 ance can only, in the historic sense, be momen- 
 tary. The wonder is not that there should be a 
 little temporary arrest in the process of absorption, 
 but that the process should have acted as com- 
 pletely as it has done. 
 
 There is one reflection which is thrown upon 
 the screen of my mind every hour of the day, 
 until the thought is growing to be a sort of 
 obsession to me. There never was, and never 
 again will be or can be, such a field for the 
 student of human nature as the United States of 
 America at this hour affords. There is hardly a 
 conceivable type of man or woman which is not 
 
30 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 to be found here. There is a dilettantism, as 
 refined, as rich, as cosmopolitan, as idle as was 
 ever known. There is as broadly diffused, and 
 yet as personally impetuous a longing after high 
 culture as was ever known. There is as ripe and 
 fine a scholarship as was ever known. Here are 
 colossal enterprises in commerce, in engineering 
 and architecture. In the cunning application of 
 the principles of the natural sciences this country 
 leads the world. Nowhere on the surface of this 
 planet, so far as I know, is popular credulity in 
 such contrast with learning and capacity. The 
 newspaper advertisements show you a hundred of 
 the oddest ways of getting a living out of the 
 folly and stupidity of mankind i ^d womankind. 
 There is the completest sense of delicacy side by 
 side with an astonishing want of the beginning of 
 a knowledge of shame. I could fill page on page 
 with proof of this, but millions of printed pages 
 prove it every day. There are all sorts of 
 nationalities, simple, or in partial and strangely 
 varied fusion. The lines of special effort which 
 once spoke the demarcation between sex and sex 
 are almost wholly broken down, and yet man is 
 as manly and woman as womanly as elsewhere. 
 The nation reads omnivorously, and a number of 
 journals and magazines reach such a point of 
 circulation as is only touched in Europe in the 
 rarest instances. 
 
Quackery 
 
 31 
 
 The very name of American is with us a 
 synonym for shrewdness and mental agility, and 
 yet a casual glance at the advertising pages of the 
 public prints shows you an abyss of ignorance, 
 credulity, and superstition in which countless 
 creatures of prey are at work on the body of a 
 foolish humanity. Contrast heaps itself on con- 
 trast ; strangeness crowds on strangeness. I 
 have just laid down on the table before me a very 
 beautifully printed and illustrated magazine — one 
 of the cheap publications which somehow we 
 have not been able so far to rival on our own side. * 
 I find in it a full page advertisement of a nostrum 
 which is guaranteed to " make the plainest 
 woman positively beautiful ; the sickest woman 
 positively healthy." Somebody pays for that, 
 and it is certainly not the advertiser who does so 
 in the last instance. 
 
 Further on I read in the same pages : — ** A 
 beautiful woman must not only possess a clear 
 and brilliant complexion, but must have also a 
 properly developed bust. No matter how severe 
 your case, write me, and I will make you a proud 
 and happy woman." I wonder how many proud 
 and happy women owe their pride and happiness 
 to this benefactress of their kind ? " Any lady 
 
 ' This was quite true when it was written, but we have 
 now in England three or four rivals to the publication I had 
 in mind. 
 

 ,s 
 
 \ 
 
 32 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 made to look fifteen years younger without 
 charge," is an announcement in another publica- 
 tion now under my eye. An ** eye powder," 
 whatever that may be, is offered to all ladies 
 " who wish to be beautiful." 
 
 A personage who describes himself as " a 
 gentleman of unequalled, refined, and agreeable 
 disposition," wishes to meet a lady who would 
 risk a few hundred dollars in an enterprise which 
 is to realize 250,000 dollars, and adds : — ** Agents 
 strictly forbidden." I half seem to recognize my 
 own old friend, the Count von Herder, here, in 
 reduced circumstances. Blank, the palmist, 
 "tells ever)^ event in life " for the modest sum of 
 one dollar. " A refined gentleman, expert lin- 
 guist," will give instruction " to a lady of means." 
 You can enjoy " inspired speaking " at the 
 residence of a celebrated medium. 
 
 In short, there is no end to the ways in which a 
 fool and his money may be parted in this great 
 country. And the pills and the patent medicines ! 
 We are bad enough at home. Heaven knows, but 
 here, if the advertisements one sees are only paid 
 for, as I suppose they are, what an unrivalled 
 capacity for nostrum-bolting the people must 
 have, to be sure. It takes all sorts to make a 
 world, but the all sorts of the American world are 
 more varied than they are elsewhere, and yet, 
 without doubt, the simplest and most credulous. 
 
Democracy on Wheels 
 
 33 
 
 So far as I can make out at present, the social 
 lines are marked with a precision which is quite 
 unknown to us with our modern happy-go-lucky 
 blending of somebodies and nobodies. But here 
 again there is a contradiction. I like to make 
 these things concrete where I can. Let me take 
 an example from last night. I was travelling 
 down town by the elevated railway, and opposite 
 to me was an Italian labourer with a spade. At 
 Eighty-first Street entered a lady, finely bred in 
 aspect and very richly dressed. She was some- 
 what old-fashioned, but very stately in her dress 
 of moire antique silk. She wore white kid gloves 
 and had handsome diamond pendants at her ears. 
 She took her seat by the side of the Italian 
 labourer, and a workman in his working clothes, 
 and those none of the cleanest, who carried a big 
 oil can in one hand, sat down next to her on the 
 other side. My immediate travelling companions 
 were a fashionably-attired young woman of the 
 lower middle class, as I should judge;, and a 
 coloured gentleman in a suit of cheap reach-me- 
 downs, a good deal the worse for wear. 
 
 There is no distinction of classes in the urban 
 trains, and all sorts and conditions of people rub 
 shoulders in them with democratic insouciance and 
 freedom. All but the very wealthiest and most 
 exclusively aristocratic avail themselves of these 
 public conveniences. Everybody is perfectly at 
 
* ! 
 
 34 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 home in them. Neither the lady who is bound to 
 the opera or the dinner table, nor the labour- 
 stained workman who sits next her, has any sense 
 of gaucherie in the other's presence. Everybody 
 is civil enough, but there is no apparent feeling of 
 a difference which marks class from class. 
 
 To come back from these trivialities to the point 
 from which I started, the view of life is not only 
 wider, stranger, and more varied than elsewhere, 
 but it is more accessible than it is with us. You 
 may find more types in a day, and have more 
 opportunity for their study, than in a week else- 
 where. To me New York seems alive with un- 
 written stories, but I am lool :ng for the point of 
 view from which one might deal with the homo- 
 geneous life of the country. Nothing may come of 
 my researches, but the exercise is very pleasant 
 and fascinating. In the meantime, of this I am 
 certain, that if after all the trivialities and repeti- 
 tions which have made up the sum of literary art 
 for some years past, a distinctly novel man is to 
 come with a distinctly novel method — a method 
 as unconsciously new as Shakespeare's was — or 
 Balzac's — or Scott's — or Dickens' — or Thackeray's 
 — it will be here that he will show himself, it will 
 be here and here only that he will find a new world 
 to fit his new inspiration. There never was, there 
 is not now, and in all human possibility there 
 never again will be such another mixture. 
 
The Coloured Gentleman 
 
 35 
 
 such another variety of life, such another 
 throbbing pulse of human movement as one finds 
 in America. 
 
 I find, much to my own surprise, that I am 
 getting to like the coloured gentleman very much. 
 I have not, of, course, seen him in those quarters 
 of the country where it appears to be the settled 
 custom occasionally to lynch him for abominable 
 crimes. But as I see him, in the great, settled, 
 orderly Eastern cities, he is a good citizen, and a 
 good fellow. It is interesting to note in how few 
 years of freedom he has learned savoir faire, and 
 the great republican virtue of equality. A genera- 
 tion of liberty has taught him the completest of 
 aplomb of self-possession. Wherever you meet 
 him he is on a level with freedom, which is to 
 me a great and an unexpected thing. He does 
 patronize his white brother, but he saves the 
 act from being offensive. Lowell spoke finely 
 of a man who had the first characteristic of a 
 gentleman, inasmuch as he was " as unconscious as 
 a prairie." The phrase fits many negroes I have 
 met. They seem quite void of ^elf-consciousness 
 in the performance of the ordinary duties of life, 
 and it is only under the provocation of fine dress 
 that they lose that excellent characteristic. 
 
 There was a great crowd of decorated darkies 
 aboard the Priscilla^ when at the close of my first 
 day in America I travelled by the Fall River route 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 to Boston. They belonged to some kind of order 
 which enabled them to wear cocked hats and 
 cockades, and uniforms and epaulettes, and all 
 manner of Dutch-metal and tinsel decorations. 
 The greater swells among them carried side arms, 
 and they were all inexpressibly comic and a little 
 touching in the simplicity of their small tomfoolery. 
 The race, as a race, is a long way off being grown 
 up yet, and will not achieve its majority for a 
 good many years to come. But what a bold man 
 he would have been thought who had prophesied 
 thirty years ago such an advance as individual 
 freedom and republican institutio' have made 
 possible for the slave. 
 
 The slave ! It is hardly credible, though one 
 knows it to be true, that these self-respecting free 
 men and women, who wear all the outer aspects of 
 equality, are the sons and daughters of fathers 
 and mothers born in bondage. If ever Wisdom, 
 who is said to be justified of all her children, were 
 splendidly and serenely justified of any one of 
 them, it was in that act, which not only freed the 
 negro, but made a voting citizen of him, and thus 
 taught him the secret of his manhood. I believe 
 that that solitary act of far-seeing wisdom saved 
 more suffering and spared more danger than any- 
 thing ever effected before or since by any legisla- 
 ture. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Here is a post scriptum to the observations I had 
 to make on the railway facilities of America. I 
 set down nothing in malice, and you shall judge 
 for yourself how fur these facilities exceed ours in 
 comfort. I am travelling, so please you, from 
 Chicago to New York by the Lehigh Valley line. 
 After a day spent in sight-seeing, I reach my hotel 
 in time to discover that the best train of the day 
 has gone. I am compelled to put up with the 
 next, which, starting three hours later, arrives in 
 New York fourteen hours after its predecessor. 
 But I can travel by Pullman palace car, which is 
 certainly something, and I am only charged first- 
 rate hotel bedroom prices, in addition to my fare, 
 for the privilege of lying down. 
 
 I have not long been seated in the smoking 
 compartment alone when I am joined by a dusky 
 gentleman in the uniform of the line, who sits 
 down in the vacant place next to me, and affably 
 joins me in a cigarette, reading my newspaper 
 
38 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 A i 
 
 r 
 
 f 
 
 meanwhile. Being imbued with the foolish insular 
 prejudice in which I have been born and bred, I find 
 this gentleman's society less agreeable than it might 
 be otherwise, and I wordlessly desert it. I walk 
 into the parlour palace itself, surrendering my 
 cigarette, and make myself comfortable over a book. 
 Enters to me a person of my own complexion, 
 also in the uniform of the company. He is a 
 man of hog-like buiid and countenance (as he has a 
 perfect right to be, since Providence has so chosen 
 for him), and he is not over clean. I take him for a 
 brakeman or some such other functionary. He, 
 like our coloured brother, seats himself near at 
 hand, and he busies himself with a cuspidor. A 
 cuspidor, you should know, was once in the course 
 of its history an expectoroon. Earlier still, and in 
 days before the first onset of refinement, it was a 
 spittoon. A rose by any other name would smell 
 as sweet. 
 
 The last intruder, who has no more right in that 
 palatial car than I have in any stranger's private 
 parlour, is an asthmatic dyspeptic with a bad cold. 
 He makes me so ill that I go back to the society 
 of the Ethiopian, though, in plain English, I would 
 rather be without it than with it. He has finished 
 his smoke and my newspaper, and is now loung- 
 ing at the door, picking his teeth and disposed to 
 conversation. I make perfectly affable response 
 to his overtures in this direction, for it is my cue 
 
The Coloured Gentleman 
 
 39 
 
 to be civil to all sorts and conditions oi men. 
 But just as his air of patronage is beginning to 
 amuse he goes. Then comes an ebony boy with a 
 menu — it is g.30 p.m. — and asks if I will lunch. 
 I inform him that I have quite recently dined, and 
 he melts from view, fading into the other shadows. 
 The car is oppressively heated, but sprays of cold 
 air are everywhere. They assail the ankles, they 
 blow into my ears, they seem to emulate Leech's 
 advanced hair-dresser, and " blow .^own your back 
 by machinery, sir." I enjoy the combined ad- 
 vantages of a Turkish bath and a needle bath. A 
 third ebonized patron of the whites comes in with 
 a small step ladder and a pole. He mounts the 
 step ladder, and with the pole he pokes open a long, 
 slender slide of window on either side the top of the 
 smoking compartment, and is gone before I realize 
 what he has done. In sweeps a chilly blast, with a 
 touch of powdery snow in it. I call after the re- 
 treating tyrant, and represent to him, respectfully, 
 humbly, indeed, that this condition of things is 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 " You sit right there," ^e answers. " It's all 
 right. Car's got to be vef.tilated." 
 
 He is so positive, so assured, so easy, so 
 politely and yet inexorably unbending toward a 
 stranger and a social and racial inferior that I let 
 him go and sit down, like Robert Falconer before 
 the master seraph, '' dumb an' rebukit." I button 
 
40 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 myself in a heavy frieze ulster to the throat, and 
 sit with half my frame in a Greenland winter and 
 half in a Cingalese wet-season summer. Finally, 
 I go to bed in the manner already described — in 
 a little, dark, hot-air chest checkered with icy 
 draughts. 
 
 Have just surrendered the perusal of Clarke 
 Russell's masterly nautical romance, " Marooned." 
 Gave in to heat and cold just at the beginning of 
 the chapter headed " I shoot the bell ringer." 
 The train lies by somewhere for an hour, and I 
 wish I could follow the romancer's example. Two 
 brutal, unnecessary big bells bang all the time, 
 remorselessly, without reason, without cessation. 
 The bed reminds me of the map of a mountain 
 district elevated to scale. " Good night, good 
 night, beloved, while I count the weary hours." 
 Off at last, with a jerk which seems to dislocate 
 the train. Check, with a jerk which dislocates it 
 anew and bangs every waggon against every other 
 waggon in a vanishing scale of crashes. Off in 
 reality now, with another jerk, and our own big 
 bell booming ahead. What for ? None to ask — 
 none to answer. Question useless ; answer, if 
 forthcoming, of no avail. At 3 a.m. unconscious. 
 Five minutes later, to my fancy, I am shaken by 
 the shoulder. 
 
 " Hillo ! You want breakfast ? " 
 
 ** What time is it ? " 
 
 I 
 
Luxurious Travel 
 
 41 
 
 ** After seven." 
 
 No. Why get up at such an hour on a cold 
 Sunday morning, after such a night ? I go to 
 sleep again, with new adaptations to the 
 miniature peaks of the mountain district raised to 
 scale. I am awake at half past ten, and by eleven 
 o'clock am ready for breakfast. Breakfast is no 
 longer ready for me. The buffet car is closed till 
 one o'clock, when, if I care for it, I can have 
 dinner. Can I have a cup of tea or coffee ? No. 
 A glass of milk xnd whisky ? No. This is 
 Sunday — Sabbath Day. No spirits can be sold 
 aboard these cars or at the refreshment rooms. I 
 starve till one, and then I get a tolerable meal. 
 A tolerable meal is a meal not intolerable. In 
 spite of rule I get a glass of whisky also. Why 
 now, and not earlier, I k vv not. 
 
 We glide on and on and on. We are engaged 
 upon a journey of a thousand miles. About half 
 past six the question of dinner begins to interest 
 me, and I make inquiries. No dinner ! " N 
 dinner?" No dinner! The dusky dignitary 
 laughs as if he found a joke somewhere. 1 should 
 be glad to find it— pleased to break his head to 
 find it. " No dinner ? " No dinner ! Car , off. 
 Stop ten minutes at Geneva. Where is Geneva ? 
 Two and a half hours ahead. Palace car. 
 Luxurious travelling. Barbaric discomforts of 
 effete Old World left behind long ago. I resign 
 
i I' 
 
 II 
 
 i' '? 
 
 J 
 
 42 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 myself, though I am by nature and practice a bit 
 of an ascetic and indifferent to luxury, but by-and- 
 by comes a white man. ** Dinner ? Certainly. 
 These darned niggers want hustling around a bit. 
 Third car to the rear, gentlemen." More luxury. 
 Bitter wind. Fine, powdery snow. Two of the 
 three passages from car to car unfenced. Kitchen 
 closed. Some cold meats. Calfs tongue, sauce 
 piquant, on menu. " All gone, sir. Tinned braized 
 beef, cold, with vegetables ? " *' Anything, in the 
 name of mercy ! " One half teacupful in all,tasting 
 of the tin. " What next ? " " French game pie." 
 French game pie tinned, also. Little pomatumy 
 bear's greasy round, looking as if it had been turned 
 out of a pomatum pot, but tasting of tin as well as 
 hair oil. No drinks this time, really, but iced 
 water, lemonade, or ginger ale. Make shift with 
 iced water. Two hours later, the stipulated 
 dining place, Geneva. Tongue sandwiches, hard- 
 boiled eggs, tea, coffee. Ten minutes' arrest. On 
 again, perspiring to death, freezing to death, and 
 in a settled state of dyspepsia. 
 
 And if this be not a true bill, if there be one 
 word in it which exceeds the truth, or expresses 
 it with anything but a good-humoured sobriety, 
 then may I never again travel in comfort, or sit 
 down again to a good dinner, or taste a glass of 
 wine. It doesn't matter very much to me. I 
 don't know why I should trouble myself as a 
 
The Coloured Gentleman 
 
 43 
 
 stranger to poke my intrusive nose into the 
 business concerns of other people. If I were an 
 American I should do nothing of the sort. I 
 should share that easy-going national patience. I 
 should let all the corporations rob me, and hustle 
 me, and inconvenience rae, and I ''hould go my 
 way in an invincible sweet temper. And I suppose 
 I should believe also, with Mr. Depew, that they 
 manage these things much better on this side the 
 water than in the Old World, and with ex-Mayor 
 Gilroy, that New York is better paved and better 
 cleaned than Paris, and should share a lot of other 
 beautiful national beliefs with a number of other 
 estimable, clever, and honourable people. 
 
 I have served the banquet and have omitted the 
 piece de resistance. 
 
 When I started for the dinner car, a little 
 before one o'clock— because my appetite helped 
 me to believe in the difference between Chicago 
 and New York time — I had just left the smoking 
 compartment, and had an unlit cigarette between 
 my lips. I met one of the dominant race, black 
 as coal, and he warned me, " No smokin' in de 
 dinin' cyar ! " I threw away my cigarette, and, 
 reaching " de dinin' cyar," sat down at a bare 
 mahogany table. In at the other end of the car 
 came a uniformed nigger, and, as I am a 
 christened soul, smoked a cigar from end to end, 
 and then began to lay the table. 
 
44 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 What in the nigger's but a choleric word is in 
 the white man a rank blasphemy. A passenger 
 who has paid his money may not nurse an unlit 
 cigarette, and with that ruling of the company, if 
 a ruling of the company it be, I have no fault to 
 find. But after having obeyed the law, it strikes 
 one with a somewhat uncommon shock of humour 
 to find a paid servant setting it at open defiance. 
 Perhaps the company does not dare to make rules 
 for its employes. 
 
 Immediately after dinner on Friday evening last 
 at the Leland Hotel, at Chicago, I made a note 
 of a conversation which took place at my table. 
 The interlocutors were a guest and a waiter. The 
 waiter bore the shadowed livery of the burnished 
 sun. In short, in a Micawberish burst of con- 
 fidence, he was a darky. He had just laid a dish 
 before the guest, who was a man with the typically 
 American eye, which is deadly tired and astonish- 
 ingly alert at the same time. The guest surveyed 
 the portion set before him with pronounced dis- 
 favour, and turned it twice or thrice over with his 
 fork. At last, without turning his head, he said, 
 quietly, " Say ! " The darky lord of the guest's 
 destiny said nothing, and the guest said, " Say ! " 
 again. Once more the waiter passed the place in 
 silence, and the guest said, " Say, you ! " Then the 
 darky, as if he were dreaming of a game at cricket 
 and surveying a dream umpire, answered, " How's 
 
Still the Coloured Gentleman 45 
 
 that ? " The guest distastefully turned over his 
 portion once more, and asked, with a voice of deep 
 fatigue, " What's this, anyhow ? " The waiter 
 looked sidelong at the dish and answered 
 "Chicken, I guess." The guest said, "Pretty 
 small, anyhow," and the nigger said, " Don't want 
 no microscope, anyhow/' The guest once more 
 stirred with his fork the bone of contention (not 
 that I mean to speak disrespectfully of the chicken), 
 and asked, with a weary sadness, " Not for the 
 white meat ? " You never saw a man less inter- 
 ested than the waiter, but he looked at the cause 
 of conflict, and said, " Well, there it is, anyhow," 
 not insolently or defiantly, but with a sort of lazy 
 soothing in the tone. The guest turned it over 
 again. " What's to it, anyhow ? " he demanded. 
 " Well," said the nigger, " I guess it's chicken." 
 ** You step and get a bigger," said the guest. 
 " Cayn't make a dinner out'n this, anyhow." 
 " Ain't no bigger in the house," said the waiter. 
 He seemed to carry on the conversation out of 
 pure complaisance ; but the guest, who was as 
 tired as he was, stuck to him with a weary, mild 
 determination. " Tolerable small chicken, ain't 
 it, anyhow?" ** Well," said the waiter, "it's 
 young." " Now, look here," said the guest, in 
 the same sad, dreamy way, " you step and get 
 another." Like the unjust judge who was wearied 
 by the much beseeching of the widow, the exotic 
 
46 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 stepped and fetched another portion, and the 
 guest, clearing up and livening a little, set to 
 work with two tea-spoons, and fed himself alter- 
 nately on pineapple ice and chicken stuffing. 
 
 In a quiet way I never saw anything more 
 desperately comic in my life. The mere tone of 
 voice never ceased from urbanity on either side. 
 The black waiter was so perfectly and entirely 
 insolent that the very idea of insolence seemed to 
 vanish from the mind. That idea, you observe, 
 implies some sort of inequality, and here there 
 seemed no conception of it. It was a sort of 
 diplomatic wrestle between level powers — a ques- 
 tion as to who should tire the other out. The 
 good old Anglo-Saxon grit told at last, but I could 
 not help wondering how the average Englishman, 
 Frenchman, German — the average man anywhere 
 in the world — would have accepted that sort of 
 demeanour from a man who was paid to wait upon 
 him in any city of his own country. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 I SPENT but forty hours in Chicago, and to 
 pretend to have seen a city of its dimensions in 
 that time would be too obviously absurd. But I 
 saw enough to freshen and stimulate the interest 
 and wonder with which the contemplation of its 
 history has always filled me at a distance. A 
 little over half a century ago a mere trading post, 
 and now one of the great hives of the world. 
 Burned almost to the ground in 1871, and now 
 new risen like an exhalation. I was driven for 
 some miles along Michigan Avenue, which in its 
 display of wealth exceeds any thoroughfare I have 
 ever seen. Brown stone mansions, green stone 
 mansions, grey stone mansions, rise on either 
 hand, like a succession of palaces. They are not 
 absolutely cheek by jowl, as houses stand in most 
 cities, but each mansion is a structure by itself, 
 and with few exceptions they are noble in design 
 and stately in extent. They are, of course, desolate 
 with a sense of extreme modernity as yet, and the 
 
48 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 ': 
 
 ;i 
 
 forest trees which are planted on either side of 
 the avenue have not had time to grow to anything 
 like their full size. The great, handsome houses 
 look unhomelike, and are all so staring in their 
 newness that one has a feeling that they might 
 vanish as swiftly as they came, but this is a fault 
 which time will cure. When the old gentleman's 
 mellowing hand has played for a century or so 
 about Michigan Avenue it will certainly be the 
 most stately and beautiful thoroughfare in the 
 world, so far as I have seen it. There is nothing 
 in London, or Paris, or Vienna, or Berlin, or 
 New York, which can compare with it for extent 
 and splendour. It cannot help being raw and 
 cold in aspect for years to come, however, and if 
 I were to choose, I would prefer a residence in one 
 of the brown fronted houses of Beacon Street, in 
 old Boston, which one can at least dot here and 
 there with the memory of a figure beloved and 
 familiar to the mind. 
 
 I had been told for years that if ever I visited 
 Chicago I must make it my business to see the 
 abattoirs, and in obedience to an almost universal 
 injunction I spent my one spare day there. The 
 average globe-trotter makes the slaughter-houses 
 his objective when he visits the huge new 
 city. He talks about them when he goes away, 
 and if he be of a literary turn of mind he writes 
 about them. The inhabitants rathor object to 
 
The Armour Institute 
 
 49 
 
 ited 
 the 
 rsal 
 The 
 ses 
 ew 
 
 ay, 
 
 tes 
 to 
 
 this, and complain that to the unthinking half of 
 the world Chicago and the hog are inseparably 
 associated. They are proud of the place, and 
 they surely have a right to be so, if outward 
 splendour and an unprecedented rapidity of 
 growth are legitimate sources of civic pride. 
 They resent this eternal identification with the 
 hog, who, though a useful and respectable sort of 
 creature in his way, does not include within 
 himself the final aspects of the higher civilization. 
 The people to whom I had the honour to be 
 introduced during my brief stay would not be 
 typical in any city. I was fortunate in meeting 
 brains, beauty, and refinement ; and if I visited 
 the abattoirs afterwards, I had the advantage of 
 seeing the city in its two most contradictory and 
 striking aspects. 
 
 My guide was a gentleman of high intelligence, 
 and before he would conduct my travelling com- 
 panion and myself to that gross and ugly spectacle 
 to which all visitors to Chicago naturally trend, he 
 took us on a visit to a place which might fairly be 
 looked on as supplying a sort of antidote in 
 advance — the Armour Institute. This is a place 
 to do the heart good, and I have not often felt 
 such pleasure and refreshment as it and its history 
 afforded me. It is intended, you must know, for 
 the use and benefit, in the first instance, of the 
 people associated with the place whither we were 
 
1 
 
 \t \ 
 
 50 
 
 The Cockney Columbjs 
 
 bound. It was founded by the will of Mr. Armour 
 (now deceased) a brother of the principal member 
 of the firm whose name shares an equal fame with 
 Bass or Allsopp, with Huntley and Palmer, with 
 Lee and Perrins. To escape from the presence 
 of these firms you must pass the confines of 
 civilization. You remember, I daresay, my story 
 of the American doctor whom I met in Constanti- 
 nople in the war year. ** Every man," said the 
 doctor, "adds one small item to the world's 
 knowledge of itself, and this is mine : — Civiliza- 
 tion and the paper collar air conterminous. 
 When I can buy a paper collar I know Pm in a 
 civilized country, and when I cayn't I know I 
 ain't." Well, in all civilized countries you oati 
 buy Armour's beef, and Bass's ale, or Allsopp's, 
 and Huntley and Palmer's biscuits, and Lee and 
 Perrins' Worcestershire sauce, and when you 
 cayn't buy those things the land ain't civilized. 
 But — to come back again — the amount left by the 
 will of the deceased Armour appeared to the head 
 of the firm inadequate for the purpose, and he 
 increased it with a noble generosity. I was told 
 that his annual contributions reached the 
 astonishing sum of 150,000 dols. The whole 
 establishment includes four blocks of buildings, 
 which cover, as I reckoned at the time, something 
 over 700,000 square feet. The larger portion of 
 this is devoted to residential flats, for which a 
 
Splendid Philanthropy 
 
 51 
 
 modei*a.te rental is charged. The whole of the 
 receipts go to the support of the school and a 
 kindergarten, which are models of excellence in 
 their separate ways. The magnificent Armour 
 benefaction is expended on a school of technology 
 which would appear to be unsurpassed by any- 
 thing of its kind. All the expert electrical work 
 of the city is done here, and there are no fewer 
 than eleven hundred students. Unluckily for me, 
 my visit was made on a Saturday, when all the 
 rooms lay vacant ; but the workshops were simply 
 and merely palatial, and the library and its 
 methods were wholly admirable. One device 
 struck me as particularly useful as an educational 
 force. Quite an army of subsidiary lady librarians 
 is employed — I wish I had made note of the 
 number, but I think it exceeds one hundred — and 
 to each of these is intrusted for distribution and 
 for family reading about twenty books at a time. 
 Each librarian, of course, changes her books as 
 often as is necessary, and it is reckoned that more 
 than seven thousand people, young and old, and 
 of both sexes, are kept constantly under the 
 influence of a refinement which would otherwise 
 be far apart from their way of life. I have on the 
 table before me as I write an American magazine 
 in which an American author asks the question : 
 — " With all its many millionaires, can the 
 United States point, in all its length and breadth, 
 
 £ 2 
 
52 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 to a single philanthropist of the first rank ? " In 
 view of this institution, of the noble munificence 
 which supports it single-handed, and the wisdom 
 with which its channels are chosen, I should 
 answer that question with a most unhesitating 
 '* Yes." The splendour of the generosity is not 
 to be disputed. A hundred and fifty thousand 
 dollars per annum, it capitalized, would very 
 nearly touch a million pounds sterling, and the 
 methods by which this great gift are handled are 
 as discerning and as wise as the benevolence itself 
 is broad and open handed. The library wails, by 
 the way, are decorated in a very beautiful and 
 appropriate fashion by the portraits and auto- 
 graph letters of great writers, and of these there is 
 a large and costlv stoi e, so that the exhibits can 
 frequently be changed. Amongst others I read a 
 very interesting letter of Carlyle's, dated from 
 Annan, and written in a shapely hand very 
 unfamiliar to me, who had only known the shaken 
 caligraphy of his later years. 
 
 From this place we drove towards the great 
 hoggery, already fortified, you observe, in our 
 opinion of Chicago b^ the reception of the 
 previous evening and our inspection of this useful 
 and beautiful work of friendship and goodness. 
 The fog of yesterday had cleared away, and the 
 air was crisp and keen, insomuch that the wind 
 swept the cheek like a blunt razor. " You will 
 
 s. 
 
 '^1 
 
The Abattoi'^.s 
 
 53 
 
 reat 
 lour 
 I the 
 eful 
 less, 
 the 
 lind 
 all 
 
 probably have little appetite after the show which 
 lies before you," said our guide, " and you had 
 better have luncheon before seeing it." We 
 stopped at the Transit House, on the strength of 
 this judgment, which was pretty fairly justified by 
 events, and there had a plain clean meal, served 
 in a big hall among a score or two of cattle drovers 
 and salesmen who had brought stock from as many 
 different parts of the country. Then we drove 
 through the cattle yards to the works, following 
 an elevated road which gave us a view of many 
 acres of pens, the greater number of which were 
 empty at the time and laid with trodden 
 straw. Here and there cattle, rough-coated 
 and disconsolate, stood huddled in the cold, 
 dumb and uncomplaining, but with a sort of 
 pitiable look in the broad- inexpressive faces, as if 
 they would fain have been elsewhere. The first 
 disagreeable of the place itself was its odours, 
 which were multitudinous and abominable. I may 
 as well say at once that every reasonable device 
 for securing cleanliness is employed. Streams of 
 steaming water pour over floors and benches 
 constantly, and it would be barely possible to 
 suggest anything which would improve the place 
 in this regard. But it is ghastly and ugly and 
 malodorous, and not all the ingenuity of man nor 
 all the perfumes of Araby will ever make it other- 
 wise. We tucked up ou* Uousers like so 'many 
 
54 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 Melbourne dandies, and waded over streaming 
 
 floors, slippery with chance chips of offal, and 
 
 running with water faintly tinged with red, and 
 
 passed through big rooms in which the air was so 
 
 thick with hot moisture that at first we could make 
 
 out nothing. Up flights of reeking stairs and 
 
 along reeking corridors we passed, until on a 
 
 sudden, a noise like that of some imagined 
 
 pandemonium broke on our ears, and in another 
 
 second or two we were in the lethal chamber. 
 
 Shall I confess the whole truth to you ? I think 
 
 you know me well enough to let me dare to do it. 
 
 My first sense was one of comedy. The wretched 
 
 animals who had found out why they were brought 
 
 there, were so naturally obstreperous and vociferous, 
 
 and their friends and confreres, who were within 
 
 a few yards of them, were so hoggish-human in 
 
 their entire indifference, that I laughed. It looked 
 
 like a satire, ugly enough, to be sure, but true and 
 
 trenchant. The unprescient hog, grunting there 
 
 in mere bestial laziness of contentment, with the 
 
 shrieks of a dozen murdered brothers and sisters 
 
 sounding in his ears, awoke with a dreadful 
 
 ludicrous alacrity to the business of the day when 
 
 his own turn came, and squealed his last and 
 
 loudest. There is a sort of brutal mercy in the 
 
 method of slaughter, and one cannot fancy that 
 
 the thing could be got over more expeditiously. 
 
 The selected victim is seized and bundled from his 
 
 m 
 
Tragedy 
 
 55 
 
 pen. A chain is attached to a hind leg, and before 
 he has guessed at anything, he is swung by some 
 mechanical arrangement I had no opportunity of 
 examining, into the air. He swings mechanically 
 into the butcher's hands, and a single thrust does 
 the business. The stroke is unerring, and he 
 passes on mechanically, jerking and screaming for 
 a few seconds only, to join the jerking and 
 screaming comrades who have gone before. "^Ve 
 look on from a raised gallery, and the gruesome 
 work is done in a sort of pit below. The long- 
 nosed hogs, my guide tells me, die hard and take 
 it bitterly. The little chunky, short-faced fellows 
 go out like the snuff of a candle. My own brief 
 experience justified that observation, and we were 
 all willing to make it very brief indeed. Rapid as 
 it was, there was time for noting one occurrence, 
 which, absurd as it may seem to say it, was for 
 the moment fiercely tragic. One hoggish brother 
 was seized by the executioner's assistants, 
 shackled by the leg and swung into the air 
 head downwards. He grunted a sort of acquies- 
 cence, and offered nothing like a note of pro- 
 test until the fatal thrust was given, but then 
 the cry of rage and despair and agony had 
 something altogether human and appalling. It 
 was as if he had been brought there under some 
 false pretence, and screamed a denunciation of 
 treachery. The voice had a ring of amaze and 
 
). 
 
 56 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 horror, and has been in my ears a score of times 
 already, and will be there oftener yet. 
 
 They slaughter three thousand hogs a day in 
 this one chamber sometimes, and the practised 
 hand in the pen down there can despatch three a 
 minute. But the thing 1 want to understand, and 
 will try to understand when I go back to Chicago, 
 is the moral influence which is exerted upon the 
 men who ply that horrible trade, and who live for 
 eight or ten hours a day in that unchanging atmo- 
 sphere of blood. I am not, I suppose, more easily 
 impressed than my neighbours, and have seen a 
 battle-field or two, and a battle or two in my time, 
 but one figure which came downstairs behind me 
 will be a nightmare pretty often, I am afraid. He 
 wore great leggings which buttoned with a loop at 
 the hip, and a great leather apron which fell 
 from his shoulders to his knees, and from his 
 brow to his heels he was red with slaughter. 
 His red hands and arms were wet and steam- 
 ing, and his face shone wet crimson. I had 
 one look at him only, and I saw no cause for 
 another. 
 
 It is a wise and just provision of the law which 
 denies these men the right to sit on juries in cases 
 of violence and murder, but one can conceive of 
 them as being decent fellows, too, with all the 
 husbandly and fatherly feelings in good order. I 
 remember very well that in Philippopolis I saw a 
 
 i 
 
 iil! 
 
A Bit of Realism 
 
 57 
 
 ill 
 
 Ih 
 ;s 
 i 
 e 
 I 
 
 Zeibeck crying at the sight of a passing woman 
 and chiM because they reminded him of his own 
 family belongings in far-off Tripoli. I knew that 
 particular ruffian, and knew him to be steeped in 
 blood and outrage, but a Bulgar was no more to 
 him than a hog is to a Chicago butcher, and there 
 he was blubbering with nostalgia. 
 
 Hundreds of men, many hundreds of men who 
 work here, do one thing, and one thing only. 
 They make a single cut, and repeat it from 
 morning to night, week after week, and year after 
 year. This gives them a dexterity which makes 
 it interesting to watch them, and I stood for a 
 minute or two quite fascinated before one fellow 
 with a huge axe, the blade of which I should say 
 was eighteen inches in length. He wielded this 
 formidable weapon with an extraordinary preci- 
 sion, cutting to a line's breadth, and never having 
 occasion for a second stroke. 
 
 I brought away one memory so incongruous and 
 so horrible that I am sorry I went at all, and 
 whenever I think of the place I am bound to 
 recall it as long as I live. M. Verlat, who, when I 
 lived in Antwerp, was president of the Belgian 
 Academy, painted a most beastly and revolting 
 picture of the Crucifixion, and it was given out in 
 triumph by the realists that he had studied in the 
 Antwerp shambles. Think of it ! In the chamber 
 given over to the slaughter of horned cattle at 
 
 I 
 
r 
 
 58 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 Armour's factory I saw the very colour on the 
 floor, the wet, crimson gleam which Verlat's 
 skilful, degraded hand had got into that shameless 
 picture, and I can't forget it. 
 
 But I am glad that I have other memories of 
 Chicago, even from one hurried visit. The splen- 
 did avenue, with that great lake, like an inland 
 sea, sparkling before it in the wintry sunlight — 
 that noble and benevolent institute, the majestic 
 buildings, the great streets filled with glittering 
 shops, the hum and stir and rich vibration of life, 
 where only half a century ago the land was savage 
 and unpeopled — the contemplation of all these 
 things is a feast for the mind, and there lies in them 
 all such a prophecy of the future that one almost 
 fears to give rein to fancy. Twenty trunk lines of 
 railway diverge from this city and carry to it the 
 produce of every corner of the Republic. It grows 
 like Jonah's gourd, and its surroundings set no 
 apparent limits to its growth. One can only 
 wonder what it will be in a hundred years from 
 now. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I HAVE been a good deal to the theatres of late, and 
 have seen a good many theatrical people in private 
 life. Whatever it may be in ordinary times, it 
 seems just now that the main part of serious 
 dramatic work is being done by English people. 
 The Kendals are here with " The Second Mrs. 
 Tanqueray," Wilson Barrett is here with Hall 
 Caine's " Manxman," Beerbohm Tree is on the 
 way with " The Red Lamp," and, before this 
 reaches you, will have made his first bow to an 
 American audience. " The Masqueraders " of 
 Henry Arthur Jones are masquerading in their 
 own known manner ; Sydney Grundy's ** Sowing 
 the Wind " and his " New Woman " are both in 
 evidence ; the former an excellent play, admirably 
 acted here ; the latter a performance so inconse- 
 quent and feeble that one wonders how it came 
 from the same pen, and performed with a feeble 
 disjointedness quite worthy of it. " Little Chris- 
 topher Columbus " is here also, rewritten and new 
 
mi 
 
 !i: 
 
 60 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 furbished, Americanized from head to heel, and 
 very much improved and brightened both as to 
 piece and performance. I have seen but five 
 distinctively American productions — " The Old 
 Homestead," ** Shenandoah," " Prince Ananias," 
 " Rob Roy," and " The Brownies." It may be 
 interesting to so inveterate a lover of the theatre 
 as yourself to have the result of my scattered and 
 informal studies. 
 
 To begin with, the theatres themselves put our 
 own to shame. They are very much handsomer 
 than ours, and very much more convenient. So 
 far as my personal experience goes, the " harpy " 
 system, of which one hears so many complaints in 
 England, is unknown. I have never yet been 
 asked for a penny beyond the legitimate advertised 
 price of my seat, and that is invariably lower than 
 it would be in a house of the same class at home. 
 Population for population, there are many more 
 theatres and very many more theatre-goers in New 
 York than in London. There are over forty 
 theatres in this one city, and I have not as yet 
 seen a scanty audience. The real American taste 
 is for frivolity, though there are, of course, publics 
 for every kind of amusement. There are houses 
 that open at ten or eleven in the morning, and 
 offer an unceasing round of performances until 
 the same hour at night. There is a veteran 
 actress here — an " old timer " — who is playing the 
 
Matters Theatrical 
 
 6i 
 
 »» 
 
 same melodrama eight times a day, and finding an 
 audience every time. It makes one shiver to 
 think of the empty dreariness of that existence. 
 The same simulated tone and stride and gesture 
 over and over again, eight times a day, and every 
 day ! What a life ! 
 
 My first visit to an American theatre was in 
 Boston. The house bears the name of the city — 
 a vast building of perfect acoustic properties. 
 The play was " The Old Homestead," a most 
 curious mixture of excellent comedy, realism, pro- 
 digious stage effect and high falutin sentimental 
 bosh. There were many things in it which would 
 have delighted the most critical audience in the 
 world, and many others which in any other 
 countrv would have been hailed with derisive 
 laughter. Au fond, the piece is a homely comedy 
 of rural life, and in this one of its oddly assorted 
 elements was simply and purely charming. Den- 
 man Thompson, the principal comedian, was from 
 first to last like a clean spadeful dug out of rustic 
 genial manhood. Nothing could have been better 
 in its way. His performance will linger in my 
 mind as a companion picture to Lafontaine's 
 " Abbe Constantin," and that is the highest praise 
 I know how to give it. Then there was a 
 storm effect, with realistic lightning, how produced 
 I cannot guess, but quite the best thing in its way 
 I ever saw, and having absolutely no other reason 
 
62 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 51 
 
 for being there than that it was an astonishment 
 in the way of theatrical imitation. There were 
 two jealous rustics, one of whom was tolerable 
 and commonplace ; while the other, a lean, gaunt 
 personage, who might have been built by nature 
 for the part, was just a bit of life. A senti- 
 mental scene with an impossible tramp was far 
 and away the absurdest thing I had ever seen, 
 puerile to the verge of imbecility. A scene in 
 which the farmer hero visits fashionable city 
 friends left the domain of comedy behind and 
 was crammed v^.Ji farce. The fashionable 
 people were very unlike any fashionable people 
 I have known in life, but the character acting 
 was finished to the finger-nail throughout. But 
 the most remarkable thing was the comic im- 
 pertinence with which a glee party, which had no 
 more to do with the play than Hamlet's player had 
 with Hecuba, marched on at odd, unexpected 
 moments, formed in line and tuned up in ditties 
 which had no earthly bearing on the case. They 
 were extremely pleasant to listen to, and the chief 
 vocalist had a tenor voice of liquid sweetness, but 
 there was not a pretence of explaining their pre- 
 sence, and they came on and went without any 
 sort of dramatic sense or congruity. If the comedy 
 had asked to be regarded as a work of art these 
 gentry would have knocked it into a cocked hat, 
 but it made no such claim at all. It was an 
 
A Drama of War 
 
 63 
 
 amusement pure and simple, and when one fell 
 into the humour of the thing it filled its purpose 
 to admiration. It has been a favourite with the 
 public for years, I am told, and the excellent 
 comedian I have named is said to have made a 
 great fortune out of it. I should be very doubtful 
 about its reception in England in its present form, 
 though there are more good things in it than one 
 often sees in a single evenine'. 
 
 Another very popular and successful piece is the 
 work of Mr. Bronson Howard, who is best known 
 to you as the author of " Brighton," which is an 
 Anglicized edition of " Saratoga." The play re- 
 ferred to is called " Shenr\ndoah," and tells a 
 story of the great civil war. It also has been 
 running for years, but when I saw it on its 
 last visit to the capital it was very inade- 
 quately played, and its stage management was 
 slovenly and ineffective. Even iv. these circum- 
 stances it was easy to judge of its effects upon 
 the audience, who received it with enthusiasm. 
 It had fine scenery, notably in one act, and there 
 was a good deal of horsemanship displayed, small 
 bodies of cavalry being very busy every now 
 and then. It struck me that, with a few changes in 
 the cast, and a good many in the stage manage- 
 ment, it would afford a fine presentment of actual 
 war, but I saw it at decided disadvantage. Mr. 
 Bronson Howard is one of the last men in the 
 
64 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 li 
 
 i^ 
 
 world to write an uninteresting drama, and " Shen- 
 andoah " is in fact a big and enduring success, but 
 a playwright is at the mercy of his human puppets, 
 and these made no claim upon my sympathies. 
 
 " The Brownies," poor things, stand in need of 
 an explanation. Mr. Palmer Cox is an American 
 draughtsman who has achieved a wide popularity 
 by the creation of a set of comic, impish little 
 folk who are great favourites with the children. 
 His drawings show a marked quaintness of fancy, 
 and the play was intended to introduce the 
 creatures of his imagination to the stage. The 
 fairy business, however, was found inadequate, and 
 when I saw the piece it was on its way to becom- 
 ing a variety show, and was neither flesh nor fowl, 
 nor good red herring. You have already noticed 
 that an American audience is tolerant of incon- 
 gruities, but how tolerant it is you cannot guess 
 until you have seen " The Brownies." One learns 
 that a theatre is very much more of an amuse- 
 ment here than it is even now coming tu be with 
 us. Audiences ask less and less for a settled 
 scheme of art, and are content so long as the 
 scene is filled with bright dresses, pretty figures, 
 and catchy songs and dances. The American 
 taste in this respect resembles that of the Mel- 
 bourne and Sydney folk, and, indeed, I notice a 
 considerable resemblance between the stage of 
 America and that of Australia. Handsome and 
 
The Theatres 
 
 65 
 
 hen- 
 , but 
 >pets, 
 
 :S. 
 
 ed of 
 rican 
 
 numerous houses, pleasure-loving, pleasure-seek- 
 ing people desiring to be pleased, and, therefore, 
 pleased easily ; popular prices and a popular love for 
 forms of amusement which ask for no exercise of 
 thought. There is, of course, a public for serious 
 art, and nobody knows that better than the pick 
 of the English profession, which has reaped rare 
 harvests in both countries. In its presentation of 
 the best music by the best artists. New York 
 claims to be ahead of the world, and it offers the 
 warmest welcome to art of every sort. But the 
 big public, the great, unfashionable, easy-going 
 public, which pays at the door of the average 
 theatre, doesn't care a brass farthing for art. 
 It wants, mainly, to laugh when its day's work 
 is over, and it deserves to be congratulated on 
 the ease with which it can be tempted to that 
 enjoyable exercise. 
 
 •* Prince Ananias " is, without exception, the 
 most plotless and unmeaning of all the stage per- 
 formances I have ever seen. It is prettily dressed, 
 prettily mounted, and excellently played. But it 
 means nothing. 
 
 " Rob Roy " is a noteworthy conglomeration. 
 In places its music is that of grand opera, and 
 one finale is really very fine, even from that high 
 standpoint. The basis of the piece is profes- 
 sedly historical, and its development is that of 
 pure farce. Offenbach and Herve gave us a 
 
*7niiinr[unw 
 
 ■' 
 
 66 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 suggestion of a beginning of this method, but 
 no more. They kept one atmosphere. From 
 the first rata-plan of the drums in the overture 
 to the final chorus " The Grand Duchess," for 
 example, is in keeping with the gay extrava- 
 gance of its theme. Of course, one doesn't 
 expect to find a Grand Duchess every day, and to 
 institute a comparison between it and any ordinary 
 workaday production of the stage would be mani- 
 festly unfair. But in " Rob Roy " the composer 
 has shown a high ambition, and in some places 
 he has justified it, while his music runs along to 
 an accompaniment of knockabout burlesque, which 
 is occasionally wildly funny. The dancing in 
 places is finely grotesque and laughable, and the 
 whole queer hotch-potch is amutiing. It is meant 
 for a hotch-potch, and you have to take its flavour 
 for its own. But when I heard the one chorus I 
 have spoken of I was conscious of a jarring sense 
 of wasted power. 
 
 The American stage cultivates many specialists 
 who arrive at a high degree of excellence in their 
 several walks. There is quite a handful of them 
 to be seen in *' Little Christopher Columbus." 
 The thinnest thread of story is utilized for the 
 introduction of variety turns, as in the London 
 staging of the piece. There are two Western girls 
 who have to be seen to be believed in — live bits of 
 burlesque art. The whole thing goes with unend- 
 
The Theatres 
 
 67 
 
 but 
 om 
 :ure 
 
 for 
 iva- 
 ;sn't 
 dto 
 nary 
 lani- 
 30ser 
 laces 
 ngto 
 vbich 
 Lg in 
 d the 
 neant 
 avour 
 )rus I 
 
 sense 
 
 ialists 
 their 
 them 
 bus.'* 
 r the 
 ndon 
 girls 
 )its of 
 Inend- 
 
 ing snap and sparkle, and is constantly being 
 added to and altered with the view of ." keeping 
 it up to date." I am not very partial to that kind 
 of performance, but I shall see this once more, if 
 only for the sake of the living pictures, which 
 are, I think, more beautiful than anything I have 
 seen of the kind. The decorous are, I believe, 
 a little shocked at some of them, and the Rev. 
 Dr. Lorrimer, of Boston, finds heathenism " in 
 the half naksd women on the play bills and 
 in your living pictures, so called, which tend to 
 destroy what little morality is left in the young 
 men." I am very sorry for the kind of young man 
 who finds what little morality he has left endan- 
 gered by these exhibitions. I have no doubt at 
 all that the kind of young man is to be met with. 
 He merits pity and a certain sort of charitable 
 abhorrence, but all the world is not to be shut out 
 of the enjoyment of a spectacle in itself wholly 
 beautiful anJ harmless because he can find a 
 poison in it, any more than a temperate man 
 must be robbed of his glass of claret at dinner 
 because some people make beasts of them- 
 selves. 
 
 It is worth notice that very few American plays 
 reach England, and it establishes the fact that 
 there is a decided difference in dramatic taste 
 between the two countries. " Shenandoah " is 
 said to have madt Bronson Howard's fortune, and 
 
 F 2 
 
If 
 
 -I 
 
 t 
 
 4 
 
 68 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 until I came here it was no more than a name to 
 me. I remember ** Held by the Enemy," at the 
 London Princess's, and of course " Little Lord 
 Fauntleroy " made a great hit. So again did 
 " Brighton," one of the most brilliant and amusing 
 of modern farcical comedies. But " Alabama," 
 which is said to have placed its author in the 
 front rank of native dramatists, is a name and no 
 more to me, and so is " Sam'l of Poscn," which 
 has made a fortune here. Any American book 
 which is worth reading reaches as appreciative a 
 public in England as it finds in its native country, 
 and our taste in literature seems to be absolutely 
 identical. But in th.^ matter of the drama there 
 is little reciprocity. English plays come here 
 and often achieve great success, but there is 
 no guarantee that a piece which has made a 
 sensation in London will awake New York to a 
 similar interest. And English managers have 
 never made a movement to produce any one of 
 scores of pieces which have coined money on this 
 side. ** The Almighty Dollar," which was sup- 
 posed to reach us with a great American reputa- 
 tion, had no success. Sheridan's " Fun on the 
 Bristol," which had a fortune in it here, had 
 another in the Antipodes, but stood no chance in 
 England. In some cases a peculiarly local tang 
 asks for the educated palate, as I am told is the 
 case with '' In Mizzoura," a play I have not seen, 
 
The Theatres 
 
 69 
 
 of 
 his 
 up- 
 Lita- 
 
 ang 
 
 "the 
 
 ten. 
 
 though I have heard it highly spoken of. But 
 the real reason for the fact that we do not barter 
 plays as we do books lies in a radical difference in 
 dramatic taste. The native American drama is 
 actually in its infancy, and it is a fact that until 
 Bronson Howard produced " Saratoga," in 1870, 
 it had no beginning'. The school of American 
 dramatists, founded by his example, cannot be 
 said to have taken itself, so far, too seriously. 
 But all in good time. There is nothing it is 
 desirable that a country should have which will 
 not be found here in due season. Men of genius 
 in letters will recognize the opportunities which 
 lie before them in the stage, and will take advan- 
 tage of them, after the natural and inevitable 
 failure which awaits the beginners in the art of 
 stage craft. 
 
 In the serious presentment of serious English 
 plays by American players, I have witnessed 
 nothing so entirely satisfactory as Sydney Grundy's 
 " Sowing the Wind." Miss Mary Hampton, who 
 plays the part created at home by Miss Winifred 
 Emery, is young and inexperienced, but she has 
 the force and feeling of a genuine artist ; she has 
 beauty and intelligence, and is evidently meant to 
 go far. I learn that she has had but five years on 
 the stage, and five years is little time enough for 
 the learning of all she has learned already. If she 
 shoi'ld work as devoutly for the next five years, 
 
 it: 
 
70 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 i 
 
 we may be hailing her as one of the brightest 
 ornaments of her craft. A young actor, a Mr. 
 Gilmour, played Brandon Thomas's part of Mr. 
 Brabazon, and was almost as good as his original, 
 whom he had never seen. The youthful lover, 
 who is, of course, an Englishman, and judging by 
 the costumes of the piece, an Englishman of 
 George Cruikshank's earlier day, was uninten- 
 tionally slightly comic now and then to an English 
 ear, by reason of a touch of accent incongruous to 
 the part. But the funniest thing in that way I 
 have known is in the performance of an American 
 gentleman in a certain part in the adaptation of 
 ** Madame Sans Gene," lately playing at Paffalo. 
 I will not particularize this artist by n^.me, or 
 identify him with the part he played, first because 
 he has his living to get, and next because I have 
 no reason for wantonly making an enemy in a 
 country where I have encountered none but friends. 
 The dresses of the piece, by the way, were the 
 richest and most beautiful I have ever seen upon 
 the stage. I do not say that Miss Katherine 
 Kidder, who plays the heroine, out-dresses Rejane, 
 or that the principal figures were more splendidly 
 attired than theyvvc"^'^ necessarily be in a good 
 European theatre. The charm of the thing lay in 
 its completeness, and for aught one could discover 
 by the eye, one might really have been bodily 
 present at the court of the Gr eat Napoleon when 
 
The Theatres 
 
 It 
 
 lly 
 
 )0d 
 
 in 
 ^er 
 lily 
 len 
 
 he was at the apex of his power and splendour. 
 I suppose that the dramatist who translated the 
 work for the American stage did well in turn- 
 ing madame's slang French into slang American. 
 An English adapter would perforce be compelled 
 to turn her droll vulgarities into English olang, 
 and a German would probably use the argot 
 of Berlin. All the same, it made her seem to me 
 an exotic and unreal creature in the scene, though 
 the part was really very admirably played. 
 
 The conclusions at the end of the ramble are 
 these : — That America has not yet much of a 
 drama of its own, but that it is going to have one ; 
 that the general taste of the public in matters 
 dramatic is more frivolous and less cultured than 
 with us ; that theatre-goers here are tolerant of 
 many things which are not endured elsewhere . 
 that their houses, as a rule, surpass our own in 
 beauty and convenience ; that the ** harpy " system 
 is as dead here as it deserves to be everywhere, and 
 that a fine young school of American-born actors 
 and actresses is being formed. I have left the 
 Daly's out of count altogether, because they belong 
 of late years almost as much to London as to New 
 York, and you know all about them. The hand 
 of England is still by far the stronger in all serious 
 work on the general stage, and in all probability 
 will continue to be so for another generation. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Here is an extract from a letter I began to write 
 to you in Boston, and for some forgotten reason 
 neglected to finish. 
 
 " In the room next to the one in which I sit to 
 write at this moment, three enthusiastic pretty 
 girls are talking about house furnishing. I think 
 there is a wedding toward. They are all talking 
 together as if each one addressed a public meet- 
 ing ; and such a piano, and the most beautiful 
 Japanese jars are waltzing wildly with a walnut 
 suite. It would seem that the jars and the suite 
 and the piano and the trifold public meeting are 
 all going to make a railway journey. They are 
 somehow entangled with Dr. Conan Doyle, who 
 is just now lecturing over here, and a certain Red 
 Lamp, which juggles to and fro in the matorical 
 tangle, belongs to him for certain. It is all a little 
 confusing, and I am not experienced enough to 
 know if it is characteristic. All the pretty girls 
 are UKv^t astonishingly shrill, and rapid, and 
 
The American Accent 
 
 73 
 
 te 
 Ire 
 
 Ire 
 
 lO 
 
 vehement, and in the highest good spirits. They 
 are not Bostonians. I have spent five weeks in 
 Boston, and though five weeks is not a long time, 
 it has been enough to enable me to distinguish 
 the Boston lady from her country sisters. The 
 Boston lady is quiet, gentle, unobtrusive, and 
 easy in converse. If she sat three deep in the 
 next room and talked enthusiastic furniture I 
 should not hear her. So I know that the three 
 pretty girls are from some outlying quarter. 
 They are probably shopping, in view of the great 
 event." 
 
 And there, dear lady, is my text for to-day. 
 You remember, when you were in Paris, that I 
 called upon you in the Boulevard Haussman and 
 found you the only Englishwoman in a house 
 crammed full of your transatlantic sisters. You 
 remember telling me how charming you found 
 them, how simple, gentle, cordial, and sincere. 
 But you remember also the shockingly over-dressed 
 young woman, who talked so much about her 
 " popper," and who seemed to have gone into 
 vocal training for the express purpose of drowning 
 the noise made by a saw sharpener. She was an 
 extreme case, indeed, and let the just Heavens 
 forbid that anybody should take her for a type of 
 the American women. Nine years of my life have 
 I spent in continental residence and travel, and I 
 know the British 'Arry and 'is 'Arriet. How I 
 
 ■iii 
 
74 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 have blushed for him and for her ! How I have 
 longed to kick him and to see somebody box 
 her ears ! How I have writhed in spirit to see 
 foreigners judging my country-people by the 
 standard displayed for their disgust by my tra- 
 velling fellow-subjects ! You know something of 
 what the American la.dies thought of the young 
 woman with the ** popper," who was as affected, 
 as underbred, and as pretentious as anything our 
 own favoured isle could show us. But here is the 
 terror I have to reveal. I have met ladies — 
 ladies — women of breeding and refinement — who 
 almost rival that portentous young creature in one 
 respect. Don't breathe it, I beg of you ! Don't 
 whisper it, or I am undone ! But it is a fact that 
 some of the ladies I have met do so scream and 
 nose their English ^hat if Ulysses were here he 
 would want his cotton wool again, though for a 
 different reason for that which prompted him to 
 use it against the sirens. Every charm in the 
 world have they that should become a woman but 
 the soft voice. And the wonder of it is that the 
 voices are naturally most melodious. When any 
 one of the ladies of whom I speak dropped to her 
 native tone—as they all do at moments — the 
 lower octave was sweet — sweeter, no doubt, by 
 contrast, but genuinely pleasant to the ear. How 
 long is it since Fanny Kemble wrote her book 
 about America ? Fifty years at least, I should 
 
The American Accent 
 
 75 
 
 )on't 
 
 that 
 
 and 
 
 e he 
 
 or a 
 to 
 the 
 but 
 the 
 any 
 her 
 the 
 by 
 How 
 book 
 ould 
 
 m 
 
 think. She spoke of all the American women as 
 having " prodigiously shrill, loud voices." It is 
 no longer true of all, or even of a large proportion, 
 but it is still true of some, and I wish dearly that 
 it were not so. For me, a woman may have every 
 charm in the world but one — youth and beauty, 
 and grace and wit, and reading and refinement, 
 and delicacy of heart and tenderness — you may 
 picture a paragon, a splendour surpassing nature 
 — but if she scream at me I will run away as soon 
 as I can. I dare not put my fingers in my ears, 
 because I hate to hurt anybody's feelings. I can't 
 wear cotton wool, because I want to hear what 
 other people, who don't scream, are saying. But 
 oh, if the charming, pretty, graceful, and delight- 
 ful creatures knew how much they lose — if only 
 somebody would dare to say in print what I am 
 writing under pledge of secrecy — what a blessing 
 it would be to be sure ! 
 
 I recall one delicious phrase of Fanny Kemble. 
 The American women of her day were not the 
 product of open air, of constant exercise and a 
 judicious use of the gymnasium. They were a 
 sort of hot-house flowers — frail, delicate human 
 exotics. But, writing of their aspect and their 
 speech — their fragile, tender looks, and their high, 
 vehement voices, she can find nothing for it but 
 that they were " like mice roaring." I have been 
 forced to think of it half a dozen times. What a 
 
 I' 
 
76 
 
 The Cockney Colt^mbus 
 
 1 1 
 
 charm lies in the full, rich contralto, and what a 
 terror is the scolding tone ! Do women make love 
 on that upper octave ? Do they say ** Adolphus, 
 I am thine ! " in that way ? If I were but a 
 woman for an hour, I would gather up my courage 
 in both hands — I would dare to speak the truth. 
 I would ring like a clarion through the land and 
 silence this lingering remnant of an old nine-tenths 
 abolished fault. And then I would go round and 
 collect thanksgiving from all lovers and admirers 
 of womanly womanhood. But I was born to 
 shave or to go bearded, and how dare I venture 
 on so delicate a theme ? 
 
 The American lady is not unknown in Europe, 
 and I have been forced to this observation prett;,- 
 often without having taken the pains to cross the 
 Atlantic. And before I go a line further I am 
 minded to touch on a difficulty which I constantly 
 encounter. So long as criticism is reasonable 
 and good-tempered, so long as it is easily to be 
 seen that you have no other desire than to get at 
 the plain truth in an amiable and inoffensive way, 
 you can't easily offend an American. But if you 
 praise — if you let loose a natural enthusiasm — the 
 average man at once suspects you. Arthur was 
 telling me only yesterday that he stood, a few days 
 ago, in an hotel office, and heard a man reading 
 aloud an opinion expressed by a well-known 
 Englishman — an opinion in the highest degree 
 
 i 
 
The American Accent 
 
 77 
 
 the 
 am 
 ntly 
 able 
 be 
 t at 
 vay, 
 you 
 -the 
 was 
 ays 
 ing 
 wn 
 ree 
 
 favourable to America. There was a disfjjustcd 
 cry of "Taffy!" and "taffy" means gammon, 
 luiml)iig, soft sawder. Now, I happen to know 
 that the opinion was genuine and heartfelt, because 
 I know the man who expressed it, and know him 
 somewhat intimately. But the cry was charac- 
 teristic. The American is tolerant of biame, but 
 at praise he winces and looks askance. " This 
 man," says he, "has a turn to serve, a log to 
 roll, an axe to grind." And they are warmly 
 enamoured of their own country, too. 
 
 Now, many men will tell you that better English 
 is spoken in America than in England, and it is 
 beyond a doubt that they believe it. But in spite 
 of their belief they wouldn't for a moment trust 
 the sincerity of the Englishman who agreed with 
 them. I am very far from agreement, for I notice 
 that the better read a man is here, and the 
 better bred, and the better travelled, the nearer 
 he comes to the English likeness. And I notice, 
 too, that cultured Americans eagerly admit 
 that what used to be the distinguishing American 
 accent is dying out. For my own part, I am 
 convinced that that accent was an English sur- 
 vival — the " holy tone " of the old religionists 
 who first peopled the colonies. The high-pitched, 
 nisal sing-song lives to this day in our Devonshire, 
 and I have heard preachers in England, who have 
 never set foot in the United States in their lives. 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
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 who almost rivalled the typical American of the 
 English stage — not, of course, in idiom, but in the 
 method of vocal production. A good half of what 
 unobservant people suppose to be distinctive 
 Americanisms are old-fashioned rural English, and 
 many of them are very rich and apt, as their very 
 survival proves. All over New England it is a 
 habit with your listener in a conversation to 
 punctuate your speech, when he agrees with you, 
 with a murmuring, " Yeh," which I take to be 
 the old Puritan " Yea " cut short a little. The 
 claim that better English is spoken here than at 
 home is just a trifle droll to English ears, though 
 one knows very well what it means. The faculty 
 of fluent and consecutive speech, which I have 
 noticed in the after-dinner oratory of the country, 
 characterizes ordinary conversation. There is 
 not a doubt that the average educated American 
 is a better conversationalist than the average edu- 
 cated Englishman. He has a readier use of his 
 vocabulary, and he marshals his phrases in better 
 order. But I notice that he is grave and tired in 
 manner, and a trifle inclined to be monotonous in 
 tone. The contention that the English employed 
 is better than with us may be dismissed, I think, 
 without a question. A man of considerable social 
 eminence, a high state official, said to me the 
 other day that something of which he was telling 
 me " happened a ways back in point of time — 
 
The American Accent 
 
 79 
 
 his 
 tter 
 in 
 lis in 
 
 when he was a boy." Now, that isn't better 
 English than we commonly speak among our- 
 selves. I have no doubt that the ears of an 
 educated American are pretty often wounded by 
 our idioms and tricks of pronunciation. There is 
 an eminent English divine lecturing here — no less 
 a person than a Dean of the Established Church 
 — and he has not a final g to his name. He talks 
 about shootin' and singin,* and so forth, p.nd his 
 hearers on this side wonder where the venerable 
 and learned gentleman picked up that peculiar 
 and vexatious vulgarism. The explanation is 
 simple enough. The droppin' of the final g was a 
 society affectation once upon a time, and the Dean 
 adopted it without knowin' what he was doin', ** a 
 ways back in point of time," probably, " when he 
 was a boy." 
 
 The street accent of New York is intolerable ; 
 as vile as that of London or of Paris. There is 
 something in the life of a great city which develops 
 among the ignorant a vulgar, jeering pretence 
 of smartness, and, however the accent may 
 vary, the note of brutal arrogance remains. 
 The Cockney cad, the Australian larrikin, the 
 New York hoodlum, the gamin of Paris — each has 
 it, and is each recognizable for a city growth at 
 the first parting of his lips. 
 
 One thing which grates upon the English ear — 
 the sole remaining peculiarity which now dis- 
 
8o 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 (J 
 
 tinguishes the speech of the great mass of 
 educated Americans from that of the great mass of 
 educated Englishmen — is the use of the vowel 
 " u," as in " constitution," or the same letter in 
 combination with *' i," as in " suit." On this 
 side such a thing soots or does not soot the con- 
 stitootion. I think this a matter to be altered, for 
 anything which tends to limit the grace, variety, 
 and flexibility of the richest and most beautiful 
 language in the world is certainly to be deplored. 
 Nearly all English people pronounce the word 
 figure figger, and the word parliament as parley- 
 ment. I notice that a good many Americans set 
 us a lesson here, which it would be just as well to 
 learn. When I was in Cornwall some seven or 
 eight years ago I was surprised to notice the 
 change which had come over the country accent. 
 In the neighbourhood of Lizard Point and 
 Mullion Cove scarcely a trace of the f ne old 
 picturesque drone was to be found, except among 
 the elderly people. When, still earlier, I had 
 begun the writing of " Rainbow Gold " and went 
 down to South Staffordshire to revive my boyish 
 memories of local tone and habit, I found that 
 cockney Brummagem had killed the old Anglo- 
 Saxon. The fine old plurals, " housen " and 
 " eysen *' and ** peasen," were all dead. The flat, 
 
 short " a " in '* glass " and ** basket " was 
 lengthened into " ah " in quite the metropolitan 
 
The American Accent 
 
 8i 
 
 lyish 
 Ithat 
 iglo- 
 and 
 flat, 
 was 
 itan 
 
 manner. I blamed the Board School for the 
 change, but the fact is, that, whether we like it or 
 not, picturesqueness in accent, as well as in 
 dress, is dying out of the world, and in these fast- 
 travelling, cosmopolitan days we are all getting 
 to be as like each other as peas from the same 
 pod. Crowds of travelling Englishmen visit these 
 shores. Englishmen of more or less eminence in 
 art and politics and stage craft and theology and 
 let' rs are talking publicly everywhere throughout 
 the States, and it stands to nature that they should 
 have a certain amount of influence. Then 
 Americans visit us by the hundred thousand 
 every year, and make their presence felt in turn ; 
 so that, what with the Americanizing of the 
 English tongue and the Anglicizing of the 
 American version of it, we are drawing more and 
 more together. With nothing but a week of 
 ocean weather between us, and with even that 
 little barrier growing feebler and more feeble as 
 ships grow stronger and Fk ster, we are likely in 
 very little trme to have no difference of speech at 
 all, except among the rural populations. Even 
 there the difi'erences must decrease ; and finally, 
 one asks, with some dismay, what is going to 
 become of the novelist, a fair share of whose 
 material lies in local shades of utterance ? What 
 is to become of the future Mary Wilkins, if there 
 is to be no distinguishing dialect in New England ? 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
82 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I 
 
 i i 
 
 and where will the Bret Harte of 1994 be if the 
 men of the Pacific have dropped all trace of the 
 peculiarities which once made their speech so 
 racy ? I feel the prospect a little cold and 
 cheerless. But this is another of those coming 
 things in the contemplation of which we con- 
 sole ourselves with the reflection that they will 
 not happen in our time. 
 
 I confess that I read both familiar and 
 unfamiliar books printed in America with a sense 
 of discomfort. I don't like to be tripped up by a 
 bowlder when a boulder would serve the turn. I 
 don't like center and caliber for centre and 
 calibre. The feeling goes a little deeper than 
 prejudice, for the shock of strangeness draws the 
 eye to the sign and makes it of a greater 
 momei.Lary importance than the sense. The 
 changes are made now, and are not in the least 
 likely to be unmade, but it is a pity that they 
 should have been instituted. I am not, for a 
 moment, disputing the grounds on which 
 American lexicographers came to their con- 
 clusions. But the English tongue was not made 
 solely in order that little boys and girls might 
 learn to spell it easily, and the lexicographer is 
 one of the last men in the world who should be 
 allowed to meddle with changes in spelling. In 
 nine cases out of ten words are dead things to 
 him, and suffer nothing by being mutilated. 
 
The Lexicographers 
 
 83 
 
 But to the genuine lover of language words are 
 alive with root and flower. They blossom in 
 the shaded or sunshiny spaces of the mind, and 
 win those who care to study them the sense of a 
 thousand close affinities of kinship and affection. 
 
 The indiscriminate abolition of the letter " u " 
 in words which used to end in " our " has often 
 been attacked. Honor, it is observed, is pay- 
 ment, while honour is the desert of payment. 
 Somebody once said it was significant that America 
 should have obliterated the " u " because if she 
 got paid she cared nothing whether she merited 
 payment or no. Tens of thousands of survivors of 
 the greatest war of modern times give the lie to 
 that poor sneer, but the fact remains that the 
 word spelled in one way suggests one thing, and 
 spelled in another way signifies another. Words 
 have old uses and familiar aspect, and the 
 ** Fonetik Nuz " can make the Book of Job a 
 ridiculous jest, or Shakespeare's noblest and 
 tenderest wisdom an absurdity. Off-^nces must 
 come, and all change is offensive to the ultra- 
 conservative mind. To my way of thinking, the 
 American lexicographers went too far not to go 
 much further. If they had carried out their 
 logic to a pitiless close, they would have created a 
 language from the bare sight of which their own 
 scholars would have recoiled. They spared us 
 that extreme, but I venture to believe that if 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 The Cocknky Columbus 
 
 H 
 
 Webster and his followers had set up their 
 scheme a few years later, they would have 
 encountered an ignominious failure. Language 
 always has been, and always must be, fluid in its 
 form, and the future of our own tongue will 
 reveal differences as large as those which separate 
 the English of Chaucer, or perhaps even that 
 of Thomas the rhymer, from the slang collo- 
 qaialisms of to-day. In any case, the English- 
 speaking population of North America will utter 
 a potent word. 
 
 A people which has multiplied a score of times 
 in a century affords a phenomenon which cannot 
 carelessly be passed by. The most despised 
 popular slang has before now risen to the dignity 
 of pure idiom in the space of a generation. John 
 Sterling, in his review of " Sartor Resartus," 
 denounces ** talented " as "a mere platform word, 
 invented by O'Connell." Few writers or speakers 
 hesitate to use it now, though for my own part I 
 profess no more love or liking for it than I have 
 for its kinsman, *' reliable." But nowadays it is 
 not the stylist or the purist who makes English. 
 The myriad claws of the newspaper are in our 
 vitals, and it is the daily Press which will mould 
 us or mar us, in this regard at least. Nothing 
 can act against its influence. It works upon us 
 with a force noi. to be resisted, and whether it 
 tend to the creation of a language richer, more 
 
Future of the Language 
 
 85 
 
 liberal, more flexible, and more dramatic, or 
 whether it will drag us down into such a 
 degradation as marks the colloquial Greek of 
 to-day in comparison with the Greek of 
 ^schylus, no man can tell. But the least 
 observant of observers cannot fail to notice that 
 the great risk or hope — whichever it may be — 
 lies here. America may bid the world seek a 
 glossary for Shakespeare or for Thackeray. Her 
 scholars and stylists are conservative, but a 
 million hands which are not those of scholar or 
 stylist are tearing down the old edifice, and 
 building up a new one, and whether they will 
 degrade or glorify is a problem which is not to be 
 solved to-day. 
 
 f I 
 
 
 M 
 
f 
 
 ; ; 
 I ,1 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I HAVii seen Niagara. I am not going to afflict 
 you with a line of fine writing. What is the use 
 of it ? There is no more hope of conveying the 
 splendour to a mind which has not realized it by 
 actual vision than there is of persuading an ant to 
 carry an elephant pick-a-back. I suppose that 
 thousands of people have tried to describe it, and 
 I suppose that nobody ever came within measur- 
 able distance of success. But I know that I never 
 had my mind so filled with thoughts which seemed 
 beautiful to me, as in the course of the twenty 
 hours or so I spent within sight or hearing of the 
 Falls. It comes to this only, dear lady, that the 
 human insect, after looking on this glory of 
 waters, can tell you a little about himself, a little 
 of what he thought and felt — the transient small 
 thing — as if that mattered much — and nothing, or 
 next to nothing, of the convincing sort, of what 
 he has seen. S. proved a most admirable guide. 
 He had been there but once before, but he had 
 
 i 
 
Niagara 
 
 87 
 
 planned out a route by which I saw the least 
 wonderful and excitinpj thirj^s first, and he led me 
 up a ladder of sensation, the wonder and excite- 
 ment increasinj^ at every step. To come upon 
 the Falls at once, and without preparation, after 
 all one has read and heard of them, after the 
 countless engravings and pictures and panoramas 
 and photographs, would be a disappointment. 
 
 Almost everybody confesses to that feeling, but, 
 for my own part, I was saved from it. It was 
 a grey and misty afternoon when we left the 
 Prospect Hotel, and walked towards the American 
 Rapids. There was a dull noise in the air, a low, 
 muffled sound, which would have aroused no 
 expectation in the mind if one had not known 
 beforehand what it meant. Here, in New York, 
 not a minute ago a train rushed along the 
 elevated railway over Columbus Avenue, within 
 thirty yards or so of the room in which I sit to 
 write, and the sound it made — rising out of quiet 
 and fading into quiet — was in itself more remark- 
 able than the first heard voice of Niagara. 
 
 The knowledge, however, of the fact that this 
 dim voice had sounded night and day for ages 
 beyond man's counting had its value. The sound 
 grew as we walked on, and increased in volume in 
 strange disproportion to the rate of our approach. It 
 grew astonishingly upon our ears at every step. We 
 reached the bridge which spans the rapids between 
 
 if 
 

 88 
 
 The Cockney CoT.uMnus 
 
 the mainland and Goat Island, and the turbulent 
 waters above and below seemed at first to drown 
 the sound of the Falls tliemselvcs, thouj^^h by-and- 
 by, by dint of listening,', we could make out the 
 profound, unceasing hum. 
 
 The most trivial tone could be heard through 
 that rolling of the muffled drums, just as one 
 hears a whisper through the thundering traffic of 
 a great street when the ear is fined by custom. 
 Here, tour or five hundred yards above the 
 American Falls, the waters come hurrying in a 
 sort of exultation, and at one place they break 
 into a wild waving of white hands, as if they 
 beckoned to the tumbling tumult in the rear, and 
 called to it to follow. 
 
 " Come on ! Come on ! We are here at 
 last ! " 
 
 This flashed at me as vividly as if I had heard 
 the voices, and at the same instant the thought 
 crossed my mind that in plain fact not a drop of 
 water was hurrying by which had not made that 
 transit many and many a time. For just think of 
 it — from Himalayan and Alpine peaks, from the 
 snows of the Rockies and from the Alps of 
 Australia and New Zealand the streams come 
 stealing or tumbling for ever, and always to the 
 great oceans, which are one in everything but 
 name, and thence the waters are drawn anew into 
 cloud, and are driven hundreds or thousands of 
 
Niagara 
 
 89 
 
 miles to fall in rains, and to be drawn up once 
 more and to fall once more, until the quiet 
 processes of nature have carried every atom of 
 moisture to every cjuarter of the f^lobe. In the 
 unexplored infinity of the aj^^e of the world every 
 drop may have laved every coast, and may have 
 sparkled in every river. In the exalted fancy of 
 the moment J seemed to sec them rejoicing in the 
 encounter aL this glorious rendezvous. 
 
 ** Here at last ! Here again ! Come on once 
 more ! Come on ! And never again together for 
 a hundred thousand years ! " 
 
 We crossed to Goat Island, and found it all 
 iaid out as a pleasaunce, gaunt and wintry now in 
 the late November, with the fog hanging in the 
 tree-tops, and a touch of raw moisture in the 
 wind ; but full of winding walks and grassy spaces, 
 which could not fail of charm in spring and 
 summer, and must be beautiful beyond description 
 in the scarlet and golden glories of the autumn 
 season. 
 
 In a while, the deep hum growing deeper as we 
 went, and drowning in its turn the noise of th"; 
 rapids, we came upon a promontory and a little 
 bridge, which led to a further island. This bridge 
 was all coated with a milky white ice, so that it 
 looked as if it might have been built of alabaster. 
 Looking up the river, one saw between the shores 
 an exquisite little rapid, scarcely more excited, 
 
 
 
l! 
 
 90 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 and scarcely bigger than our own Yorkshire 
 Wharfe after a plentiful fall of rain, and just at 
 our feet a cataract, which reminded me of the 
 Bowen Fall, in the New Zealand Sounds, with its 
 lovely white breast jutting out like that of a pouter 
 pigeon. It was very delightful, and if one saw it 
 by itself would have a grandeur of its own, but 
 here it looked miniature, bijou, almost coquettish 
 in its mere beauty. 
 
 But a minute later — oh ! a minute later, and we 
 had climbed to another post of observation, and 
 there was the great green shoulder of the American 
 Fall, heaving over the cliff before us, so vast, so 
 solemn in its look that it fairly took away my 
 breath, and almost seemed to stop the beating of 
 my heart. I heard myself say " My God ! " and 
 for a minute or two afterwards I dared not speak. 
 These poor nerves of mine, harassed by years of 
 sickness, were all unstrung, and I was on the edge 
 of a hysteric burst of tears. But the sight itself 
 and the undreamed-of volume of the sound that 
 rose brought me back to calm again. In the 
 roar I heard a voice of solemn gladness. And — 
 may I speak of it quite simply and quite reverently 
 as such things should be spoken ? — I have no 
 creed. I was forced to take my lonely way out of 
 all communions of belief years ago. I know I can 
 never go back to the faith which once spread such 
 promise over the future. But the great, glad, 
 
 V; 
 
Niagara 
 
 91 
 
 awful voice sounded, ** Hallelujah ! Glory ! Glory ! 
 Gloria in excelsis ! " If emotion were reason, if 
 sensation were conviction, I had left that sight and 
 sound a man re-made, born again to hopes which 
 made youth happy, and the cold fears of the grave 
 a host of phantoms which had no power to harm. 
 I heard the great unisons in Handel's greatest 
 chorus, " For the Lord God Omnipotent reign- 
 cth ! " " And He shall reign for ever and ever ! " 
 
 What is there in the two great fighting elements 
 — the two huge opposites — fire and water, which 
 so pre-eminently excites these feelings of awe and 
 wonder ? A volcano in action, a sea in tempest, 
 awake precisely similar emotions in the mind. I 
 have sometimes dreamed of an elemental affinity 
 between these forces and the spirit of man. But 
 our dreams are many, and ** Behold we know not 
 anything." 
 
 There was a cold thaw that afternoon, but there 
 had been a fairly smart frost which had worked 
 all manner of lovelv miracles of design in 
 alabaster. Underneath one rock which overhung 
 the water a few tufts of wet hanging grass had 
 been coated with frozen spray, until they had 
 grown into colossal milky tears, half a yard long, 
 and arranged in perfectly symmetrical order. 
 
 Elsewhere was a stubble of brush and herbage, 
 which had been transformed into the semblance 
 of an agonized human face, staring up at the sky 
 
 ■ : *1 
 

 92 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 ■' i 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 from the very rim of the down-rushing torrent. 
 Everywhere there were designs as fantastic 
 and beautiful as anything ever formed in the way 
 of stalactite or stalagmite. None of these shapes 
 resembled any ice I had ever seen before, but were 
 all of a milky, smooth opacity, like the finest 
 Parian. But the thing that struck me was that 
 here was water at its mightiest in the fall, and 
 water at its tiniest in the floating spray atoms, 
 and the two were doing their work of beauty and 
 wonder side by side. I have rarely noted such 
 immediate contrast in natural methods in such 
 close neighbourhood. 
 
 There were more wonders and more wonders, and 
 not to weary you I must dismiss them briefly. The 
 Canadian rapids impressed me as the greatest part 
 of the whole stupendous spectacle. In spite of 
 that unspeakable diapason of the Falls themselves, 
 they fill one with a strange sense of quiet and 
 majesty and resignation ; but in the rapids there 
 is a strain and stress and terror — here a wild, 
 striving rush to get the whole thing over ; here a 
 boiling horror lingering backward, fighting as it 
 were against the inevitable plunge. You fancy it 
 like a battle-field, with heroic charges and cowardly 
 panics, and groans and cheering — everywhere 
 alive with tumultous passion. In the mist which 
 overhung the Canadian shore the mind could 
 picture anything. Gray squadrons charging in 
 
 ak 
 
Niagara 
 
 93 
 
 the fog, bearing down all obstacles ; and 
 fresh squadrons and more squadrons, and, in 
 the everlasting smothering thunders, bugle 
 calls and the boom of guns, and every tone of 
 Armageddon. 
 
 We turned our backs upon it all, warned by 
 fatigue and the chill and darkness of approaching 
 night. We talked chaff and nonsense by the way, 
 mainly to get rid of the strain of the last few 
 hours. We dined, and after dinner we went to a 
 music-hall known as " Black Jack's," and wit- 
 nessed, I should imagine, the drearie?t entertain- 
 ment ever offered to man. Then we drifted home 
 to the hotel. The night air was as mild as if we 
 had been in English mid May. We threw the 
 windows open and listened to the Falls, and one 
 fancy came into my mind which I must tell you. 
 Up in the great lakes a duplicate soul had its 
 birth, and its course lay down the river, smooth 
 and fair. It came to the rapids and saw death 
 before it. It raved, it trembled, it struggled with 
 ignoble fears and glorious resolve. It came to the 
 parting of the waters, and soul was torn away 
 from soul. Each faced the plunge alone. But they 
 met once more with agonies of rejoicing, and flowed 
 on to the eternal seas. And out of all of this my 
 heart made a parable, which may be no more than 
 a child's dream, or may be a great truth. Who 
 knows ? I wondered if the whole thing might not 
 
 11 
 
 I;: 
 
 7, 
 
 V 
 
 'V 
 
 ■i 
 J 
 
94 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I I 
 
 have been set here as a symbol. And again — who 
 knows ? 
 
 S left me, and I sat at the open window 
 
 smoking and thinking, and listening, until an hour 
 after midnight, when the hotel was suddenly 
 flooded with a crowd of tourists. I am free to say 
 that in all my travels I had never met such an 
 assemblage. They invaded all the corridors, and 
 shouted and shrieked, and cackled idiot trifles, 
 until I was half inclined to go out and bombard 
 them with the bedroom movables. After half an 
 hour of cockney charivari, with many hangings of 
 doors and more shouting, shrieking and cackling, 
 they got to bed. Half an hour later another 
 crowd came in, and the same business was gone 
 through with. One indignant lady, whom, from 
 her voice I judged to be elderly, raised a cry in 
 protest just outside my door, but, finding it of no 
 effect, went back to her chamber with a slam. 
 Silence came at last, but by this time Niagara and 
 I were out of tune with each other, and I, too, 
 went to bed, more irritated, nervous, and an^^^ 
 than I have been for years. Some day I will put 
 thi3se people in print, and I hope they may read 
 me, and fix the date in their own minds and 
 recognize their own ill breeding, and blush for it. 
 I am sure they merit the lesson. 
 
 Next day an attempt to see the Horse Shoe 
 Fall near at hand resulted in pure fiasco. We 
 
Buffalo 
 
 95 
 
 crossed the suspension bridge to the Canadian side 
 and tramped through mist and mud until, within 
 two hundred yards of the fall, we found ourselves 
 in a whirling fog of water-atoms as opaque in 
 effect as a stone dike. We endured a thorough 
 drenching and were forced to beat a retreat. So 
 I am told I missed the crowning spectacle, but 
 even if I should never see Niagara again, as I 
 hope to do, I have brought away a vision of 
 beauty and glory which will last my lifetime. 
 
 From Niagara to Buffalo is but a step, and I 
 had a reason for making it. In Niagara Square, 
 Buffalo, there is a large block of red brick build- 
 ing, a considerable portion of which is devoted to 
 the uses of the Women's Educational and Indus- 
 trial Union, an associatio'^ which is doing most 
 excellent work in a most admirable way. And 
 there, dear lady, I found some of your American 
 sisters under conditions which startled almost as 
 much as they pleased. This Women's Union 
 aims at the redemption of street waifs. It takes 
 children from the cellars of the slums of a great 
 city, and it teaches them all the arts of cleanliness 
 and tidiness, and household duty, which can 
 translate the human hog-pen to a home. It takes 
 older girls and teaches them cooking on a basis 
 of common-sense and simple science, which is quite 
 the best thing in its way I have found anywhere. 
 It provides resting room and shelter, and whole- 
 
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96 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 some reading in meal hours, and at other times, for 
 all women who choose to avail themselves of the 
 opportunities provided. It goes into the high- 
 ways and the byways with a constant, unostenta- 
 tious charity. Well, you ask me, what is there in 
 all this to surprise ? There are such associations 
 in all Christian lands. Quite so. Let us be glad 
 that there are good people almost everywhere. 
 But here is the surprise : From this Women's 
 Union in Buffalo the odium theologicum is 
 banished. Hebrew ladies, Protestant ladies. 
 Catholic ladies — ladies of all the creeds, or of no 
 creed at all — work together, and work together in 
 harmony. Their bond of union is that they are 
 women, and that they have women's hearts. 
 
 The union owns its own house, but it has debts 
 and money troubles. If I were a Gould or a 
 Vanderbilt those troubles should not endure for 
 four and twenty hours. At least, I hope not ; 
 but it is an easy thing to be generous with other 
 people's money. There are eight or ten such 
 associations, all more or less united, in the State, 
 all sprung from the heart and brain of one woman, 
 and all administered entirely by women, as 
 efficiently and in as businesslike a fashion, I am 
 independently assured, as if they had all the male 
 managers, secretaries, and accountants in the 
 world at their beck and call. 
 
 Buffalo, let me say, is the one city I have yet 
 
A Paved City 
 
 97 
 
 ; 't-\ 
 
 seen in the United States which boasts a pave- 
 ment. An enthusiastic citizen assured me that it 
 contains no less than one hundred miles of 
 asphalted streets. I could hardly see the whole 
 hundred miles in one daj', but what I saw was 
 pleasing. It was very agreeable to be able to 
 pace the streets again, without being deafened by 
 the noise of traffic. When New York has followed 
 Buffalo's example, and has got down that boom- 
 ing, ugly monster of an elevated railway, which I 
 hate the more the more I see and hear of it, it also 
 will be inhabitable to other people than those pro- 
 vided with wrought-iron nerves. As it is, being 
 back again in this siurnt und drang^ I am longing 
 to live under the Falls of Niagara — for the sake of 
 quiet. 
 
 I 
 
 hi 
 
 H 
 

 II 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 ■■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I HAVE been thinking more and more within the 
 last quarter of a year or so since I first landed in 
 America how very true it is that the impressions 
 of childhood and of early youth are the most per- 
 manent. I discover myself in a thousand particu- 
 lars to be more and more of an old fogey. I am 
 not merely an old fogey, but a Cockney old fogey, 
 and there is no mending. I have been told for 
 years by intelligent Americans whom I have en- 
 countered in every quarter of the globe but this, 
 all over Europe, in stray quarters of Asia, in 
 Australia, or New Zealand, on scores upon scores 
 of railway systems, that I had to come to this 
 special republic to find the very perfection of rail- 
 way traffic, and, indeed, of rapid transit in all its 
 varied forms. Now all these informants of mine I 
 take to be tarred with the same brush as myself. 
 They have been bred to a certain system, as I 
 have, and, like myself, they are incurably wedded 
 to it. 
 
 Mr. Chauncey Depew, to take a very noted 
 
 
 ai 
 
Railway Travel 
 
 99 
 
 example, has travelled a p^ood deal in Europe, as 
 everybody knows, and he has lately been exalting 
 the American railway system at the expense of 
 the English and the Continental. From an 
 American point of view, I have no doubt but he is 
 quite right ; but from an Englishman's point of 
 view his laudations of his own method and his de- 
 traction of ours seem entirely unreasonable. He 
 is not likely to change his opinion for anything I 
 may say, and I am sure I am not likely to change 
 my own. It is not for us a matter of national 
 prejudice but of daily use and wont. 
 
 I have just travelled from Toronto to Chicago 
 by the Grand Trunk Railway, and I have never in 
 my life, in any part of the world, made a more 
 comfortless or unsatisfactory journey. One en- 
 counters the national insolence on the French 
 railways ; the German officials are notoriously 
 brutal ; in Spain, Italy, Turkey, and other coun- 
 tries which, from our point of view, are only as 
 yet partly civilized, the traveller, however cosmo- 
 politan and complacent, occasionally feels his 
 temper stirred by official stupidity and meddle- 
 someness. But taking them altogether, after 
 a three months' experience, I will back the 
 American railway officials against the world for a 
 careless indifference to the comfort of the people 
 whom they rule, and for an habitual calm, over- 
 mastering insolence of demeanour. 
 
 H 2 
 
 II 
 
 
100 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 ^ 
 
 There is nothinp^ in the world like the darky 
 autocrat aboard a railway train. He takes 
 you in charge absolutely, and domineers over you 
 with a placidity and a trained conscious master- 
 ship, which is almost as comic as it is offensive. 
 I remember the train de luxe between Paris and 
 Monte Carlo, over which I have travelled, I dare- 
 say, a score of times. I recall the excellent dining 
 accommodation ; the no less excellent accommoda- 
 tion for sleepers ; the decency, the elegance of all 
 the appointments, the perfect table service, the 
 civility and willingness of all officials, high and 
 low, and I wonder that anybody who has had the 
 opportunity of contrasting that splendid service 
 with the slovenly American methods can approve 
 the latter. 
 
 There is one thing which, to my mind, simply, 
 I suppose, as a matter of education, is downright 
 intolerable. There are no separate compartments 
 for men and women, and last night I had to put 
 myself to bed in the presence of three ladies, and 
 under circumstances which were certainly em- 
 barrassing. 
 
 I found myself In the kind of berth one uses at 
 sea, and had to dress and undress in that space at 
 great inconvenience, abrading knees and shoulders, 
 and bringing my head once or twice, in conse- 
 quence of the uneasy rocking of the train, into 
 pretty severe contact with the woodwork of the 
 
 1 
 
Corporation Chivalry 
 
 lOI 
 
 
 carriafi^c. These gymnastics were rendered 
 necessary by the presence of the petticoatcd con- 
 tingent, whose members, I take it, were just as 
 unhappy and as incommoded as myself. For the 
 privilege of stretching myself at full length under 
 a single blanket in that box-full of icy draughts, 
 I paid the sum of three dollars, which, consider- 
 ing the accommodation afforded, and contrasting 
 it with what one gets at home or upon the 
 Continent, is downright extravagance and 
 extortion. 
 
 Now, this kind of personal decency is a very 
 delicate thing to speak about here. I have known 
 hundreds of American gentlemen and ladies who 
 have assured me that in this country there is a 
 delicate sense of chivalry on the part of men 
 toward women that is not to be found elsewhere in 
 the world. I was prompt to believe this statement 
 with all my heart, but I find that in the whole 
 system of public travelling, at least, it is as little 
 founded as it well can be. There is no considera- 
 tion for women displayed by either the railway 
 companies or the people who run the enormously 
 profitable and astoundingly inconvenient cars. 
 The other night, at a public meeting in New York, 
 a gentleman of great and deserved eminence in 
 literature, said, with what I took to be a side- 
 long glanfx. in my direction, that he had known 
 many Englishmen travelling in America who 
 
 ' 
 
 I .1 
 
102 
 
 Tin-: Cockney Columijus 
 
 were impatient with o new country because it was 
 not an old one, and who desired to Anglicize all 
 things American. That may be true of whom it 
 will, but I cannot take the accusation to myself. 
 Yet I should dearly like to Anglicize American 
 notions with respect to the rapid transit system 
 of the towns. 
 
 The Americans have grown so used to English 
 criticism that it passes by them like the idle wind 
 which they regard not, but if I were an American 
 I would not rest, for the honour and the credit of 
 my own country, from denouncing that one thing. 
 If it were my happiness to be an American woman 
 I would raise a crusade against it. In every car 
 which plies in the streets of every great city I have 
 as yet visited in this country there is such an in- 
 termingling of promiscuous male and female limbs 
 and figures as might be tolerated for an hour at a 
 time of enormous emergency in another country, 
 but would in no other country I have ever visited 
 be endured as a system for a single week. 
 
 On Christmas Eve, on an elevated railway in 
 New York, I counted in one carriage seating ac- 
 commodation for fifty people. I stood myself in 
 the bitter cold with half-a-dozen delicate and lady- 
 like looking women on the outer platform of the 
 car, and at Twenty-fourth street I counted the 
 people who left the car. No fewer than fifty-two 
 filed past me. Nobody got in at that particular 
 
 I 
 
"Jack the Squekzer** 
 
 103 
 
 station, and so the ladies and myself drifted into 
 the car, and found one or two people still standing 
 and every seat still occupied. 
 
 This would not be regarded by the New Yorker 
 as at all an unusual or remarkable circumstance, 
 but to me it seemed no less than indecent. 
 
 I take up my parable again ; this American 
 people is the most patient and long-suffering that 
 was ever known. It allows anybody to make a 
 profit out of it in any way. It has no resentment 
 for intrusion upon its liberties ; it allows itself to 
 be harassed, and hurried, and driven, and bullied, 
 and inconvenienced in a hundred ways, and makes 
 no protest. Now and again the humorist has his 
 joke ; now and again the promiscuous indecency 
 of this close package of men and women provokes 
 some animal-minded creature to an outrage which 
 is resented, and then the matter is dismissed from 
 the public mind and forgotten. 
 
 I have in my possession an extract from the 
 Nciv York Herald^ headed in big type, " Jack 
 the Squeezer." In a second heading, in smaller, 
 but still prominent type, I find it recorded that 
 
 " Mr. , chief bookkeeper for a savings bank, is 
 
 arrested for insulting women." 
 
 " Offensive in an * L ' train," says the third head- 
 line, while the fourth large-type heading sets 
 forth the fact that two ladies are positive of the 
 man's identity. In still a fifth headline I read 
 
 1. 
 
 
 j: % 
 
 1 
 
io4 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I 
 
 that the person charged protests innocence, 
 and on yet another I find him held in 300 dols. 
 bail for trial and suspended from duty by his 
 employer. The gentleman accused is fifty years 
 old, bearded and eminently genteel in appearance. 
 He is unhesitatingly picked out of a whole carload 
 of passengers as the man who had nudged and 
 squeezed the ladies into a s+ate of panic and indig- 
 nation during the down trip of an ' L ' road train 
 several days before. Let me tell you the story, 
 which I take to be moderately instructive in its 
 way, as I find it exposed in the columns of the 
 principal journal of America. 
 
 As the train moved slowly out of the station 
 through the heavy fog and rain, one of the com- 
 plainants, who is a lady doctor, caught a few 
 words of an altercation which was going on between 
 the brakesman and a passenger, who instantly 
 elbowed his way through the crowded car and 
 came to a halt at her side. He wore a heavy 
 overcoat, seemed to take up a great deal more 
 room than was actuciUy necessary for him and 
 appeared to enjoy the squeeze. The lady doctor 
 gave the stranger no further thought, and was 
 chatting unconsciously with her companion, when 
 she found her waist embraced by the stranger's arm. 
 
 In the language of the reporter, she *' grabbed 
 the intrusive hand and threw it away from her." 
 
 Fearing a scene and thinking that the stranger's 
 
 
 I 
 
 I..—. 
 
An Episode of Travel 
 
 105 
 
 \fs 
 
 grip might have been accidental, the doctor moved 
 away from him through the crowd and ranged up 
 alongside two young ladies, just in time to hear 
 one of them say, — 
 
 ** It is the same man, I tell you. That creature 
 there with the iron gray beard. If he squeezes 
 me again as he did the other morning, I will whack 
 him with my umbrella." 
 
 The lady was intensely excited, and her 
 companion with difficulty quieted her. The lady 
 doctor's companion, not knowing the reason for 
 her friend's sudden change of position, stayed in 
 the neighbourhood of the offender ; a moment 
 later she pushed through the crowd to her friend, 
 the doctor, with the information, — 
 
 " Don't say a word, but that awful wretch with 
 the beard has been grabbing me by the — the — the 
 leg." 
 
 Three times the unknown had grabbed his 
 victim before she could recover from the attack 
 and beat a retreat. The indignant ladies hurried 
 home, and one of them reported the incident to 
 her brother. On the morrow he, accompanied by 
 them and a detective, went to the station at which 
 the man had originall}' entered the train, and there 
 by curious fortune, found and identified the 
 offender at once. 
 
 Now, I do not say that this could not have 
 happened in any other country in the world, but I 
 
 1 
 
 ill 
 
 
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 ■'l.im 1 
 
 ":l|w fl 
 
 IImI I 
 
 
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 U V. 
 
 };i|1ii K 
 
 
 I 1 
 
 U'i 
 
 1 
 
 '. i 
 
 ' it 
 
io6 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I i 
 
 do say that it is a dozen times likelier to happen 
 in America than elsewhere, and from my own 
 observation I am able to tell you that this kind of 
 thing does happen with a very shocking frequency. 
 Women here, I presume, are very much like 
 women everywhere. They allow their own sense 
 of shame to keep them silent, and in innumerable 
 cases the coarse-minded brute who presumes upon 
 his propinquity to the pretty woman and who 
 insults her in this way is allowed to go scot free. 
 
 All this inconvenience, all this temptation to 
 indecent assault of a minor character, is allowed 
 by the populace of the great American cities for 
 the profit of the shareholders in urban railways 
 and other rolling stock. 
 
 I have not venturec" to address any American 
 lady upon this delicate topic, but I have spoken to 
 a good many American men about it. They one 
 and all admit the fact. Some are indignant and 
 others take it humorously, but on the whole it 
 seems to me to be a thing to be spoken about, 
 and very seriously — a blot upon a high civilization. 
 
 You remember that in one of my earlier letters 
 I mentioned Mr. Gilroy, who n^as then Mayor of 
 New York; as having expressed the extraordinary 
 opinion that the pavements of Paris would not for 
 an instant compare with those of the city over 
 whose civic destiny he himself presided. I in- 
 stanced this as an odd specimen of that parochial 
 
 I 
 
New York under Snow 
 
 107 
 
 form of patriotism which more or less affects 
 everybody. But in Mr. Gilroy's case it seems to 
 be something more than this. Very shortly after 
 the publication of my letter here his Worship was 
 interviewed with respect to it. He upheld his own 
 opinion stoutly, and said that the peculiar nature 
 of the New York traffic necessitated a peculiar 
 form of pavement. He went so far as tr say that 
 the form of street cleaning employed in Paris 
 would not be tolerated in New York for an hour. 
 
 Since the utterance of that last astonishing 
 opinion I have had the doubtful advantage of 
 seeing New York under a snow-storm, and it is not 
 at all a matter of opinion, but one of simple fact, 
 that for very nearly a fortnight the municipal 
 authorities in the face of that very simple disaster 
 were entirely paralyzed. The condition of the 
 main thoroughfare for day after day was positively 
 Arctic. The snow was shovelled from the side- 
 walks by private enterprise, each citizen seeming 
 to make himself, with few exceptions, responsible 
 for his own share of the public causeway. The 
 snow was thrown in heaps, into the horse-road, 
 and was suffered to lie there even in the most 
 frequented thoroughfares undisturbed for many 
 days. 
 
 On the fourth day after the snow-fall business 
 carried me through some half dozen miles of the 
 principal streets of the chief city of America, and 
 
 i. A 
 
io8 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I 
 
 in the course of that lonpf peregrination I counted 
 five and twenty men at work. 
 
 Mayor Gilroy no longer rules over the destinies 
 of New York. He was superseded in the course of 
 that very week by a new civic official, and I heard 
 here and there that the paralysis of the municipal 
 mechanism was at least partially due to the fact 
 that there was a change in official quarters. As a 
 matter of fact, the root of the evil seemed to lie, 
 so far as my own inquiry led me, in an altogether 
 different direction. It had been decided that no 
 foreigners should be employed in public works in 
 the city, and as a majority of the poor and 
 unemployed who >»'ould be willing to undertake 
 such menial labour as the cleaning of the streets 
 at short notice and at the moment of emergency 
 are almost wholly foreigners, there was nobody to 
 be found to undertake the work. 
 
 I saw placards exhibited outside various 
 municipal buildings bearing the inscription : — Five 
 thousand men zvanted to clean the streets. 
 
 But foreigners knew that it was useless to apply, 
 and among American citizens it was only too 
 evident that the required hands were not to be 
 found. I learned from that same copy of the 
 New York Herald^ from which I have extracted 
 the instructive story of '* Jack the Squeezer," that 
 the heads of departments met and resolved that 
 something ought to be done, but that the 
 
 I I t 
 
 Mtw ww wwmf 
 
Possibly Jaundiced 
 
 log 
 
 d 
 
 conference was held in secret, and meanwhile, 
 says the headHne writer, *' the streets are filled and 
 the Grip is spreading every day." 
 
 The jealousy of the yet unincorporated 
 foreigner, the hatred of him and even the fear of him 
 among the uneducated population of America are 
 growing day by day. The point of saturation of 
 which I have spoken in the former letter seems to 
 have been almost reached, and despite the aston- 
 ishing rapidit}^ with which incomers have been 
 Americanized in the past, the continued influx of 
 foreign elements is regarded with suspicion and 
 distrust. 
 
 Perhaps I am out of sorts to-day, and inclined 
 to look at things in a jaundiced fashion. I find 
 the second city of the Republic drowned in a fog 
 which reminds me of my Cockney home, the first 
 time I have seen anything like it since I left 
 London nearly four months ago. The depot of 
 the Grand Trunk Railway is an emporium of din, 
 dirt, and disorder. The streets in this quarter of 
 the town are ankle-deep in discoloured snow. 
 The old plague of clanging bells is maddening 
 everywhere. I have been charged half-a-dollar 
 for a mile ride in an omnibus. I have profoundly 
 offended a dark-skinned aristocrat by refusing to 
 sit at table in the height of a cross-draught, and 
 by insisting, for the first time since I landed, on a 
 seat of my own choice. I am aching with 
 
 ) 'ifj 
 
 I i 
 
 : ij 
 
no 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 rheumatism, and choking with a cold in the head, 
 for I have not yet grown acclimatized to the over- 
 heated rooms of hotels and private houses, and 
 the sudden change to the keen outer air. Under 
 these conditions, I have developed an unexpected 
 likeness to the immortal Mrs. Gummidge at such 
 times as she fell to thinking of the old 'un. " I'm 
 a poor lorn creetur, and everything goes contrairy 
 with me." 
 
 Let me see if I can't find something at which it 
 is impossible to grumble, something light and 
 bright and inspiring. 
 
 I have it ! 
 
 New York on New Year's Day ! 
 
 As a stranger to this country you know nothing 
 of the system of free lunching which is one of the 
 institutions here, and breaks out on that particu- 
 lar day into a sort of glory. All the year round, 
 except on Sundays, there are thousands of places 
 of public resort at which any member of the public 
 who has the price of a drink in his pocket may 
 lunch for nothing. 
 
 I have once or twice felt a sense of vicarious 
 shame at beholding the avidity with which well- 
 dressed, prosperous-looking people have availed 
 themselves of this privilege, but as a rule the thing 
 to be astonished at is the public moderation. At 
 one of the finest hotels in New York — the Plaza — 
 an excellent meal is spread all the year round, 
 
i 
 
 New Year's Free Lunch 
 
 III 
 
 and any person of respectable exterior may enter, 
 and may have for nothing a soup of admirable 
 quality, a hot entree, with potatoes, and quite a 
 succession of cold dishes. This house is used 
 exclusively by the best sort of business men for 
 luncheon purposes, and the landlord relies upon 
 his liberality in this respect to extend his 
 customary clientele. As a matter of fact, the 
 privilege is abused by nobody or next to nobody, 
 and it is worth notice that by a general consent 
 and understanding the wrong sort of man never 
 intrudes himself. 
 
 On New Year's Day here and elsewhere the 
 customary luncheon breaks into a sort of spcadic 
 splendour. Tables spread round three sides of a 
 vast apartment are loaded with the most elaborate 
 dishes. Salmon from three to four feet in length, 
 smothered in mayonnaise, and decorated with every 
 conceivable style of garnishing ; lobsters in aspic, 
 huge turkeys and prairie hens, game pies con- 
 structed as if to endure a siege, chines of beef, 
 hams, a feast for Gargantua, and all laid out pro 
 bono publico and gratis, while jacketed attendants 
 in snowy aprons press all and every one of these 
 delicacies upon the visitor, and carve for him with 
 unstinted hand. 
 
 For one day the scene is a realization of that 
 celestial lubber-land we used to hear of in the 
 nursery jingle, where the little pigs run about 
 
 4 
 
 ! 11 
 

 112 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 ready roasted, with knives and forks in their backs 
 cryinj^ out, " Who'll eat me ? " 
 
 In the houses where this princely hospitality is 
 at its princcliest the customers are, of course, used 
 to luxury, and are little inclined to take advantage 
 of the profusion. But in the poorer quarters the 
 new year must dawn well, I fancy, to many a poor 
 devil, who would hardly know how, apart from 
 this pretty and generous custom, to get a meal 
 at all. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 In every new country one visits one finds un- 
 expected inconveniences. In America the table 
 knives are not made to cut. The chief object in 
 their manufacturer's eye is to give them an attrac- 
 tive look and to enable them to be easily and 
 expeditiously cleaned. They are made in one 
 piece, of cast or stamped metal, and the blade and 
 the handle are both plated. This is very agreeable 
 for the servants (who can throw a handful of 
 knives and forks into a pan of hot water and clean 
 each one by a mere rub with a soft cloth), but is not 
 so agreeable for the unaccustomed diner. It is a 
 small illustration of that characteristic of national 
 patience of which I have told you already. People 
 submit to a personal inconvenience in order that 
 their servants may enjoy a corresponding ease. 
 The Cockney Columbus, you observe, is occasion- 
 ally content with very tiny discoveries- Here is 
 another of the same sort. I have in my pocket 
 a halfpenny box of English matches, for which I 
 
 I 
 
 ^ ( 
 

 114 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 paid fivepence. In some of the best hotels, and 
 in some of the best private houses, I have found 
 in use the dirty and offensive old lucifer, which 
 went out of employment when I was a boy — some 
 thirty years ago, say. They are sometimes made 
 in rows, like a sort of coarse comb. You break 
 off a tooth of the comb. You strike it, and it 
 burns until it has filled your room with a dis- 
 agreeable odour, and then, before you can use it, 
 it goes out. It impresses one as being very curious 
 that in two such trifles as these a people renowned 
 above all others for their swiftness in domestic 
 contrivance should be content to be so ill served. 
 Here is another little oddity. You may not put 
 your boots outside your bedroom door in a hotel, 
 lest, as a black waiter informed me, somebody 
 might walk off with 'em. You may hand them to 
 a waiter, who will take them downstairs. There, 
 plain boots are polished at a charge of fivepence, 
 russet boots are polished at a cost to their owner 
 of sevenpence halfpenny, and patent leather boots 
 at a charge of tenpence. If you choose to have 
 them cleaned on your feet you can reduce these 
 charges fifty per cent. The first business strikes 
 one as a nere extortion — a trifle, of course, but 
 one of the things which diminish the pleasure of 
 travel. So is the payment of twelve shillings 
 (three dollars) for a bottle of hotel whisky of no 
 particular brand. Personal liberties are cur- 
 
 •mimm m 
 
!>>; 
 
 ;es 
 
 10 
 
 Small Officialdom 
 
 "5 
 
 tailed in small ways, and it takes the stranger a 
 day or two to discover the advantages of the 
 system. You do not choose your own seat in a 
 railway car or in a restaurant. You are put where 
 the conductor or the head-waiter chooses that you 
 should go. 
 
 Small officialdom is not always courteous in any 
 country, and here I was warned by many American 
 friends, that I should find it positively boorish. 
 I should be very indisposed to agree with that 
 verdict. Busy officials of the smaller sort, seeing 
 in me a stranger, have gone out of their way to 
 oblige and instruct me. Possibly that is because 
 I have a knack of being civil. But outside official- 
 dom, I am compelled to say that there is an 
 ampler courtesy here than I have found elsewhere. 
 People in the streets will turn back with you to 
 put you in your way. In six weeks I have met 
 with one disobliging person only. He was the 
 driver of a horse-car, and he treated me as if he 
 had been an incensed justice of the peace and I a 
 felon of the most despicable sort. I had a momen- 
 tary mind to tell him that he was a sulky and ill- 
 conditioned brute, but I restrained myself easily 
 enough. The politeness one generally encounters 
 is not the unmeaning efflorescence of the French. 
 It is the good breeding of good nature, and for the 
 most part doesn't think of being well-bred at all, 
 but only of being amiable and helpful. I am 
 
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 ii6 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 speaking now of the common people. A pood 
 many years before I hoped to come here I wrote 
 about "the beautiful cordial sincerity which marks 
 the good American." I meet it every day now, 
 and as a stranger in a strange land I have a better 
 reason for liking it, and for being touched by it, 
 than I have had when he and I have been 
 foreigners together, or when my foot has been on 
 my own accustomed Cockney asphalte. 
 
 In respect of some things America beats all 
 countries easily, hands down. The plenitude of 
 pure, natural drinking water, always deliciously 
 cold, is one of them. The general use of ice for 
 all things which deserve to be drunk or eaten cold 
 is another. I have experience enough and courage 
 enough in my own judgment to say, without 
 hesitation or reserve, that the American table is 
 the best in the world, and the best served. No- 
 body has eaten an oyster until he has it served on 
 the half-shell on a bed of crushed ice. Nobody 
 knows how delicious fresh fruit can be until he has 
 eaten it with its native bloom untouched and newly 
 brought from the ice safe. Why can't we have 
 these little cheap pleasures in Europe ? Why are 
 we strangers to Tabasco sauce? Through how 
 many centuries has the oyster waited for that 
 crown of all his gustatorial glories ? And what 
 shall I say of the terrapin, of the venison steak 
 ** on a blaizer,'* of the inexpensive but glorious 
 
 :>,i^iaxfrjffi 
 
Table Joys 
 
 "i^ 
 
 117 
 
 clam chowder, of the score of game birds, and the 
 novel and appetizing; fish, of the " English mutton- 
 chop " (which surpasses any mutton-chop nowa- 
 days to be found in England), of the glorious 
 variety of fruits and breads ? 
 
 This is a country in which a man may order 
 oysters with an open heart. They are not quite 
 as good as our own dear little gentlemanly Whit- 
 stable native, but very nearly, and they beat our 
 common sorts out of the field altogether. I 
 remember when our oyster famine set in that I 
 made my first visit to England in the oyster season 
 for a space of five whole years. I knew nothing 
 of the appalling rise in price, and I invited 
 some half-dozen men to an oyster luncheon. A 
 certain glitter in the eyes of the invited was 
 noticeable, but I failed to remark upon it until the 
 bill came. I recalled it then. The precious bi- 
 valve was retailed at five shillings and sixpenc«i 
 per dozen — eleven cents per oyster. And it was 
 not as if the men had been my dearest friends. 
 They were everyday club acquaintances. No 
 more. 
 
 If I recall one of the abiding sorrows of my life 
 on this page, it is only to contrast it with the 
 happier present. Sweet are the uses of adversity. 
 They help to greaten later joys. 
 
 Wines are dearer here than they have a right to 
 be, and the excellent vintages of California, which 
 
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ii8 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 are procurable at so cheap a rate in England, are 
 hardly seen where one would expect them to be 
 plentiful. I have looked in vain down the wine 
 list of several hotels and half a dozen clubs for 
 my favourite California Burgundy. I am told 
 that many of the vintages are retailed under 
 French and German names ; a bad thing for the 
 purchaser, and a bad thing for the reputation 
 of the home vineyards. 
 
 For another thing in which the Americans are 
 ahead of us they are indebted, not to all-bounteous 
 nature, but to theii own good sense. It will come 
 to us in time, as other good things have come. 
 For the urban and suburban railways they have a 
 universal fare. For a pa3^ment cf five cents you 
 can travel any distance within the fixed limit. It 
 is an extension of the idea of the postal system, 
 which charges a penny for a letter sent from the 
 Strand to Fleet Street, and a penny for a letter 
 from John o' Groat's to Land's End ; from the 
 house round the corner or from London to Galway. 
 Yet another advantage here is found in the check- 
 ing of luggage. Our English railway experts are 
 reported to have inquireu into the American 
 system and to have decided against it. All I know 
 is that it is a mighty convenience to the traveller, 
 though the men who handle one's baggage might 
 perhaps knock it about less violently if they 
 were not dealing with other people's property. 
 
 •«MP».--< 
 
The Newspapers 
 
 e 
 e 
 
 119 
 
 I fancy few Enj^lish people ever get to like the 
 American system of open railway cars. It has 
 certain definite and clear advantages, but we prefer 
 our own comparative privacy. 
 
 This is a letter of trifles, you observe ; but after 
 all it is only in trifles that the new country seams 
 as yet to differ from the lands to which I am 
 accustomed. I shall familiarize myself with 
 weightier matters by-and-by, no doubt. Some of 
 them are loommg dimly up already. Here is one 
 which long famiharity — acquired in the work of half 
 a lifetime — enables me to look at with some clear- 
 ness. We are very proud of our newspaper press 
 at home, and, as it seems to me, with justice. An 
 English journalist bristles with prejudices of many 
 sorts, and, finding his own trade carried on over 
 here on other lines than those to which he has 
 been accustomed all his life, he is naturally dis- 
 posed to be antagonistic to the novel methods. 
 The objections he has to offer will very probably 
 deal ^rst with questions of taste. Here is a very 
 mild sample, indeed. I choose it only because it 
 lies under my nose at this moment. A lady's 
 house has caught fire, and the lady is rescued. 
 
 ** Mrs. is a large iady," says the reporter. 
 
 "In fact, adipose tissue is well represented on her 
 comely person. She sleeps back of the parlour, 
 and on Thursday night she had horrible dreams. 
 She thought she was at the dentist's, had taken 
 
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120 
 
 The Cocxney Columbus 
 
 gas, and was suffocating. Just as she was breath- 
 ing her last gasp she awoke, to find her door burst 
 open and all of her male boarders rushing into the 
 room. ... It was a great rescue. They took her 
 all at once in one load ; that is, it did not take two 
 trips to carry her over." Now, that isn't much, 
 but it isn't at all to my liking. Why chaff a 
 private person who has suffered from an accident, 
 and make public fun of a woman's personal 
 peculiarities ? It seems to me a little ' 'i^el and 
 unfeeling, but the writer has got to .1 . jmart 
 turn out of the thing, and he does his business. 
 The American journalist thinks h'.s English fellow- 
 workman slow, and is rather inclined to despise 
 him for his want of dash and vim and sparkle. I 
 hope we can express our differences amiably and 
 in good temper. 
 
 One finds an outspokenness both in the press 
 and in the pulpit to which on our side we are 
 strange. There was an attack on a leadiiv? 
 politician in a very influential and fashionable Nc v 
 York weekly a little while ago, so virulent, so 
 savage, so unrelenting in its profession of right, cus 
 wrath, that to hear it read fairly staggcrca ..-^. 
 The editor of a great Boston newspaper read it out 
 to mc every word with a sternly rejoicing approval. 
 I remarked that in England such an article, 
 whether true or false in its assumptions, would be 
 encountered by an action for libel. ** We do our 
 
The Loftier Side 
 
 121 
 
 h- 
 
 •St 
 be 
 er 
 
 a 
 
 t, 
 il 
 d 
 t 
 
 duty here," I was answered, mildly. "This man 
 merits every word here written, and if he dared to 
 carry his grievance to the courts he would find the 
 courts against him." That same politician was 
 denounced from the Boston pulpit by a Christian 
 divine in these words : — '* He is the most infernal 
 scoundrel that ever stood at the head of any party." 
 The Christian divine prefaced this very open and 
 candid statement of opinion by the express 
 declnration that " he was not a partisan." What 
 would he have said if he had been ? 
 
 It is no wonder that the Americon journalist is 
 proud of his trade as it is followed here, for he 
 has done things which have not been dreamed 
 of on our side. What English newspaper has 
 absolute command of three thousand miles 
 of cable sunk across the Atlantic ? What 
 British journal reports on a Monday the chief 
 pulpit utterances of the world on Sunday ? 
 What British journal ever gathered a consensus of 
 opinion of the world's exports by telegraph, and 
 made an authentic forecast of the world's com- 
 merce in any one department of it ? These are the 
 imperial deeds of journalism — the winning o*" 
 Waterlcos and Sedans. But I don't like the lady 
 v/ho has adipose tissue well represented upon her 
 person, and who was borne out of her bed by male 
 boarders in one load. 
 
 The Sunday issues of the great journals are 
 
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 122 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 portentous things indeed. Think of a newspaper 
 of from forty to fifty pages, each page consisting of 
 six columns of ordinary reading matter, containing 
 fifteen hundred words ! As much reading matter 
 as there is to be found in one of the Waverley 
 Novels, and all served hot and hot every week, 
 piquant, up-to-date, the world raked from its 
 palaces to its slums for intellectual provender. I 
 ii^'^ed to think Fleet Street the great temple to the 
 
 eat human passion for gossip, but Fleet Street 
 does nothing of that sort. These enormous 
 journals are printed and sold by scores and scores 
 of thousands. The clergy complain that they 
 keep men out of church. But it is the solid 
 business of a whole day to read one of them, and 
 if a man wants to know all his world and every 
 side of its opinions he may resign himself to despair. 
 He might commit suicide, if he chose, under an 
 avalanche of Sunday intelligence. 
 
 I have a personal antipathy to the exaggerated 
 and startling headlines which mainly distinguish 
 the outer aspect of the American journals from that 
 of our own, but journalists over here, to whom I 
 venture to express myself upon this point, smile 
 with an indulgent, kindly pity. It is the business 
 of a newspaper, they argue, to give the reader, day 
 by day, an immediate bird's-eye view of the world. 
 Here they say every item of news is plainly ticketed. 
 If any one item gives you what you want to read, 
 
Insular Prejudice 
 
 123 
 
 you can read it. If not, the thing is plainly 
 ticketed, and you can pass on until you find some- 
 thing which suits you better. They have an 
 answer, too, even about the lady who was carried 
 in one load. A newspaper, they say, is for every- 
 body. What one reader doesn't like another does. 
 A fight in the Bowery interests the Bowery man, 
 and so we report the fight. Marriage engage- 
 ments in circles of fashion interest the fashionable 
 world, and so we print lists of people who are 
 engaged to be married. Our notion of a news- 
 paper is that it should present a microcosm of the 
 great world every day. It is not prepared to suit 
 your special taste alone, or anybody's special taste 
 alone. It has something in it for everybody, and 
 everybody has not your delicate refinement. And 
 so I find myself silenced in argument, and just as 
 prejudiced as ever, and just as wedded to my 
 Standard and my Times — partly because I am 
 getting to be an old fogey, and partly because I was 
 bred to my own view of the business ; and I don't 
 like, and can't like, and won't even try to like, the 
 newspaper man's grin at the portly lady who nar- 
 rowly escaped from being burned to death, and 
 who was not quite so fat that it took two trips to 
 carry her. That is my confounded insular pre- 
 judice, and I stand on it, good-humouredly, I hope, 
 but quite inexorable. 
 
 I have had many opportunities of listening 
 
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 124 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 to American post-prandial oratory. I have not on 
 all occasions heard picked men, but the average of 
 such speech is very much higher here than it is 
 with us. Nothing can be much more doleful than 
 the efforts of the customary Englishman in such a 
 position. I have heard nobody on this side to 
 rival dear old George Dawson, or my other valued 
 chief, so lately gone over to the majority, Edmund 
 Yates, or anybody as brilliantly gossipy and charm- 
 ing as George Augustus Sala was in his great day, 
 but I have heard some surprisingly good after- 
 dinner oratory from many people who by no means 
 make it the practice of their lives to speak, and I 
 think that the faculty of apt and fluent speech is 
 indigenous and characteris ' ic of the race. Once 
 or twice I have remarked a endency to fly the old 
 spread-eagle, a love for lofty and balanced sentences, 
 an exuberance of phrase or imagery which our 
 colder talkers would avoid like poison ; but the 
 manner is self-possessed and easy, and free of all 
 seeming exaggeration, so that any tendency to 
 hysteria in expression is more noticeable when the 
 speeches are read or remembered than during their 
 delivery. The American table-talker uses a bigger 
 brush and lays on brighter colours than we are 
 used to see, but his handling is more dexterous 
 than ours — is bolder and looks more accustomed. 
 I have many and many a time wondered in 
 England why on earth the ghastly exercise of after- 
 
 mmmmm 
 
Post-prandial Oratory 
 
 125 
 
 dinner speech was invented, and why, being in- 
 vented, it was tolerated by the men who suffer 
 under it. But as yet, out of the forty or perhaps 
 fifty people I have listened to, I have not heard 
 one dull speaker. I suppose I must wait till I 
 get to Congress. If anything can make a bore of 
 a man, politics will do it. 
 
 !i 
 
 
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CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I WAS taken yesterday to see a sight as moving, 
 as full of human interest, and as instructive as 
 anything I have beheld on this side of the Atlantic. 
 This strange and most enthralling spectacle is 
 open to all the world, and the theatre upon whose 
 stage it is played is but an hour's distance from 
 New York's busiest centres. The inhabitants :ii 
 the capital are said to be just barely aware of its 
 existence. What is done there is of the utmost 
 importance to the interests of every citizen of the 
 United States, and it transacts its business in the 
 midst of a remarkable indifference. The place is 
 Ellis Island, and the business there gone through 
 is the reception or rejection of emigrants from the 
 
 Old World. M , with his quaint trick of 
 
 phrase, christened it ** the citizen factory." 
 
 We owed our visit, and the completeness with 
 which we were enabled to see the whole work- 
 ings of the place, to Assistant-Commissioner 
 MacSweeney and to Dr. Wheeler, the latter of 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 127 
 
 whom has charge of the hospital arrangements. 
 The visit was made on Sunday, January 27th, 
 when three emigrant ships reached New York 
 Harbour — the Etruria, the Bretagne, and the 
 Amaifi. The incomers of that day were wholly 
 foreigners, mainly from Italy, Germany, and 
 Russia. 
 
 And now to give you an idea of the why and 
 
 wherefore of this scene being so moving and so 
 
 full of human interest as we found it. When an 
 
 emigrant from the Old World to the New has 
 
 scraped together, or begged, or borrowed, or stolen, 
 
 or anyhow acquired the money necessary for his 
 
 passage, and when he has been actually landed 
 
 on American soil, there still remains open the 
 
 all-important question as to whether he will be 
 
 allowed to remain, or wheither he will be sent 
 
 back again to the old life of poverty and hardship 
 
 from which he is struggling to escape. He stands 
 
 at the gates of a land which he has been taught to 
 
 look upon as a paradise, and now, in sight of the 
 
 haven of his desire, with his feet already on the 
 
 soil of promise, he learns for the first time that 
 
 there is at least a chance that he may be turned 
 
 back again. For the actually rejected, who are 
 
 few, the time is one of inconceivable bitterness. 
 
 For those who are put by to await the series of 
 
 decisions by which their fate may be decided it is 
 
 one of overwhelming anxiety, and these are the 
 
 I 
 
 
128 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 fi 
 
 considerations which mak.. Ellis Island as pa- 
 thetically interesting a place as may be found 
 anywhere on the face of the earth perhaps. 
 
 The conditions under which an emigrant may 
 be definitely refused are manifold. Time was 
 when the United States of America were content 
 to be the common sewer of Europe. From 1887 
 to i8g3 the annual increase of population exceeded 
 an average of half a million souls — that is to say, 
 that for every day of all that time between thirteen 
 and fourteen hundred strangers were landed on 
 these shores. Among these were naturally many 
 who were undesirable as citizens. It n ay be 
 taken broadly tha^ an immigrant is a person who 
 desires to better his condition, and the mere 
 impulse in that direction may be taken in the 
 great majority of instances to indicate a certain 
 promise of good citizenship. But many were the 
 incurable failures of the Old World, and it is not 
 very long since the Government of this country 
 awoke to the fact that a time had arrived when it 
 was necessary to protect itself against the inroad 
 of the worthless, the physically disabled, the 
 hopelessly poor, and so forth. The weeding-out 
 process begins in Europe, where the commanding 
 officer of every emigrant vessel has to make 
 declaration on oath that he has made a personal 
 examination of each and every one of his emigrant 
 passengers, and to certify that he carries no idiot 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 129 
 
 or insane person, no pauper or person likely to 
 become a public charge, or suffering from a 
 loathsome or dangerous contagious disease, no 
 person who has been convicted of a felony "or 
 other infamous crime or misdemeanour involving 
 moral turpitude, or who is a polygamist " or — and 
 this is where the shoe cruelly and unexpectedly 
 pinches— who is under a contract or agreement, 
 express or implied, to perform labour in the 
 United States. That the law should forbid the 
 importation of insanity, idiocy, contagious disease, 
 felony and polygamy, is obviously wise and just. 
 But the other question, as to the exclusion of men 
 and women who have found work before leaving 
 their homes for a new country, is very subtle and 
 full of difficulty. It would seem at the first 
 blush that the immigrant who is coming here to 
 a fixed and arranged employment is the most 
 profitable and promising sort of person for the 
 land to welcome, and the least likely to be a 
 burden on the community. But here is the 
 difficulty in concrete form. Before the passing of 
 the law just cited, two actions, among inany 
 others, forced the hand of the Government. A 
 manufacturer of boot and shoes gave his employes, 
 five hundred in number, a notice that on and after 
 the Monday next ensuing, their wages would be 
 reduced by fifteen per cent. The employes 
 refused to accept this condition, and on tho day 
 
 K 
 
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 The Cockney Coi.uMnus 
 
 
 named, into the factory walked five huiuUed people 
 imported from Europe. The employer had known 
 that the reduction would be refused, and he had 
 planned a cruel coup, the method of which had been 
 arranged weeks beforehand. An excavator played 
 a similar trick with three hundred men under his 
 employ, and filled their places with Italians, whom 
 his agents had got together at Naples long before 
 the ultimatum was offered to the workmen here. 
 Now, this vile and cruel greed on the part of 
 capital — for it is impossible to describe it in 
 milder terms — set labour on its defence. The 
 labour organizations *" America are enormously 
 strong, and in the I of an evil so monstrous 
 and so evident they were able to dictate terms. 
 The result is a law which, though never intended 
 to be more than a protection to national industry, 
 is as unjust and oppressive in individual cases as 
 it well can be. 
 
 Let us try to see the place and the people as 
 they show themselves to the looker-on, and so get 
 a little closer to the human tragedy of which I 
 have been speaking. The sparkling harbour, on 
 this heavenly January Sunday, stretches eastward 
 toward the Narrows, and Bartholdi's giant statue 
 of Liberty, with the signal-light in one uplifted 
 hand, towers over the dance and shine of the 
 ripples, within musket shot of the island. The 
 island itself is one-half natural and one-half 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 131 
 
 artificial, and the vast building it supports is 
 partly built on piles. The great bare halls are 
 open to the view from end to end, but are all 
 partitioned off by a lacevvork of iron screens into 
 corridors and apartments. The corridors arc 
 fenced in to the height of the elbow only, and 
 serve merely to keep the immigrants in line, but 
 the boundaries of the apartments are much 
 loftier, and make veritable cages of them. In 
 each corridor a clerk in uniform is stationed at a 
 desk. The immigrants in a long queue approach 
 him one by one, and each in turn is subjected to a 
 rigorous interrogatory. Here comes a blear-eyed 
 little Jew boy, barely five feet in height, pale and 
 flaccid, with a blur of black down on his thick, 
 projecting upper lip. He isa"laster" by trade, 
 has lived nearly all his life in Jewish charitable 
 institutions, has one dollar, has friends to go to, 
 has been sent out by a Hebrew emigration aid 
 society, has once earned as much as four shillings 
 a week in England. He is put on one side for 
 special inquiry, and has a ticket given him marked 
 •' S. I." Obviously not a desirable citizen. Far- 
 off London has no use for him. America has no 
 use for him. The Special Inquiry Board will 
 assuredly send him home again — does, in fact, so 
 decide — and in an hour or two you find him, 
 pathetically bewildered and stupid, penned up 
 under lock and key, with a whole herd of similar 
 
 K 2 
 
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 132 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 unfortunates. But here comes a man whose 
 undisputed entrance seems assured. He has 
 travelled steerage, but he looks like a gentleman, 
 and has the speech of one. He is French, 
 and speaks his own language with an accent of 
 culture. The clerk at the desk is a poly- 
 glot, or has at least enough of almost every 
 language of Europe to put the statutory ques- 
 tions and to understand the answers. Name is 
 demanded, and found on the roll call which lies 
 before the questioner. Trade ? "I am a 
 preacher," says the gentlemanly Frenchman. 
 " I belong to the Seventh Day Adventists, and I 
 am here as a delegate from that sect to a con- 
 vention of our people which is to be held here." 
 What money has he ? Money ? He blushes a 
 little, and stammers a little. He has but two 
 dollars, but he has only to call at a certain 
 newspaper office, of which he gives the address, to 
 have all his wants supplied. Remanded for 
 inquiry. If the tale he tells proves true, he will 
 pass ; if not, back he goes. We land no paupers 
 here, and a man with only two dollars may be a 
 public charge before you can say Jack Robinson. 
 So with surprise and consternation written large 
 upon him, the little Seventh Day Adventist is 
 locked up in one of the purgatorial pens to await 
 judgment An hour will do his business, for the 
 Board of Inquiry sits all day and every day, and 
 
 

 Ellis Island 
 
 133 
 
 despatches its affairs wi^h an admirable 
 promptitucj. But meanwhile the humiliation is 
 not lightly to be borne, and the man is on the 
 edge of tears of shame. They come in a long 
 string, German and Russian Jews mainly, show 
 tickets and money, and are passed on. They have 
 nothing to do as yet, but they have friends to go 
 to, and they can show the necessary thirty dollars. 
 Here comes a man with a swagger, certain of 
 passage. He is a German Jew, a bootmaker by 
 trade. Where does he propose to go ? To 
 Philadelphia. What money has he ? One 
 hundred dollars (produced with a smiling flourish). 
 Has he work to go to ? Yes, with his brother-in- 
 law, who guarantees him employment at two 
 dollars a day. Is he willing to swear to that ? 
 Quite ready. That does his business. He is put 
 aside for inquiry — thunderstruck, but not quite 
 understanding: thin 
 
 gs as yet. 
 
 All the remanded 
 are ushered into one cage. They sit dumb and 
 wondering, more Hke so many sheep than human 
 beings, wistfully staring and waiting — not knowing 
 their own peril ; ■ lowing only that they are under 
 arrest for some vague no-reason. 
 
 The Board of Inquiry is sitting. Let us go and 
 see it at work. A room in most respects like a 
 police-court, with a raised bench at one side ot 
 it, and at the desk are five gentlemen seated — a 
 commission of four— with their secretary. A 
 
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 134 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 Russian peasant is under examination, or rather, 
 would be under examination if there were any 
 one here who could speak his tongue. He is 
 tested in any number of ways, German and Rus- 
 sian, and many dialects of both, but he under- 
 stands not one word that is said to him. He 
 speaks some barbarous patois of interior Russia, 
 and has no other language. There is one man on 
 the staff of the establishment who will be able to 
 talk to him, but he happens to be absent, and in 
 the meantime the immigrant might as well be deaf 
 and dumb. He is, of course, put back once more, 
 and unless he can show that he has friends who 
 are willing and able to be responsible for him, he 
 will be sent home. The next man who comes is 
 stone deaf and has a defect in his speech. 
 Rejected. Then we get a man from Poland, with 
 a nose full five inches long, and forehead villain- 
 ously low, sly, cringing, dirty, ragged, with an 
 oily, ingratiating smile. He announces himself as 
 a rabbi, and turns out to be a chicken butcher. 
 Not wanted in the great republic. America can 
 contrive to do without him. He will wrestle that 
 astounding nose of his through the world some- 
 how or other, and will be just as well among his 
 own flea-bitten contingent, the moving insect- 
 forcing farms they are, as here. Then comes a 
 gentlemanly German, a little seedy in aspect, but 
 a man of breeding. Has been a merchant. Has 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 135 
 
 failed in business. Has come over to join his 
 brother, who is willing to take him into partner- 
 ship. This is a man of intelligence, understand- 
 ing his position accurately, and, though he stands 
 like a rock, his fingers, and his lips and his eyes 
 are eloquent of his anxiety. On examination, his 
 private papers prove satisfactory. His story is 
 held to be established, and he is allowed to go his 
 way. Then come two men who have secured 
 employment in the United States before leaving 
 Europ?, and it is carefully explained to them that 
 they iro uot compelled to swear to that fact. It 
 is even open to them to deny their former state- 
 ment. They seem in every respect to be likely to 
 make good citizens, and the Board is anxious not 
 to strain a law which presses so cruelly in 
 individual cnses. They administer it, indeed, with 
 great huma. ity, but so long as it stands upon the 
 statute book they ire bound to carry out its 
 provisions. The two men, however, seem to 
 suspect that some trap is being laid for them, and 
 insist on rushing to their own destruction. They 
 really think, poor devils, tli.it the fact that they 
 have work to go to is their passport to this land of 
 promise, while that very fact is tacal to their hopes 
 of entering it. To their shocking bewilderment, 
 they find themselves rejected, and bound once 
 more to the country they had quitted, with many 
 bright and shining hopes only so brief a time before. 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
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 I learn, on the soundest authority, that many of 
 the finally rejected are known to commit suicide 
 on their return to their homes. They feel their 
 rejection as a stigma, and cannot bear the apparent 
 shame of it. Their story that they have been sent 
 back because they had work to go to is not believed, 
 and they find it impossible to persuade their 
 wondering friends that they have not been returned 
 for some degrading reason. The Assistant-Com- 
 missioner, Mr. McSweeney, acknowledges feelingly, 
 that the hardships inflicted by the law are often 
 bitter, though he does not see how they are to 
 be avoided. For my own part, I can't help think- 
 ing that his office is a hard one for a man with a 
 heart to hold. It is not pleasant to have to 
 enforce a law which is obviously and flagrantly 
 unjust, and which was never intended by those 
 who framed it to operate in merely individual 
 cases. The Assistant-Commissioner impressed 
 me as a man of kindliest nature, who felt and 
 could not help feeling the suffering which surrounds 
 him, but he has a high sense of the official 
 responsibility which rests upon him, and, although 
 I fancy he would very gladly welcome amendments 
 in the law, he does his duty under it. 
 
 But I am hampered by no official sense of duty, 
 and to me it seems a violation of human nature 
 to forbid a brother who has prospered in this 
 country from inviting his less fortunate brother to 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 137 
 
 join him. It is at once cruel and insensate to 
 send back a single private person under such 
 conditions, while admitting hordes who have no 
 actual certainty of work. The law clamours for 
 instant amendment, and it would be easy, by 
 throwing the onus on the employer, to do all that 
 is required for the protection of American labour. 
 Never anywhere have I seen a sadder or a more 
 pitiable crowd than that composed of rejected 
 immigrants, all penned together in one big cage 
 in that building on Ellis Island. We went in 
 among them, accompanied by the Assistant-Com- 
 missioner and Dr. Wheeler, and by the aid o^ one 
 or two interpreters we talked with some of them. 
 They pressed about us with piteous eyes and 
 beseeching gestures. One poor fellow, a Russian 
 Jew, tried to kiss the Commissioner's feet in the 
 agony of his imploring. Another came to ask 
 what he had stolen that he was penned up there. 
 He had a few ragged papers in the pocket of his 
 ragged coat, and held them out to us. He too, 
 was a Russian Jew, and what a hell his life had 
 grown to be you may guess from this. He was 
 shovelled out of Russia into Germany, and 
 shovelled out of Berlin before he had known its 
 soil an hour. He had come straight here as a 
 last resource, and here again the dreadful official 
 shovel was under him, and he was being spaded 
 out of the very land of freedom. He cried pitiably 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
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 as he told his tale, and was it any v/onder ? 
 Think of it I Three of the greatest powers in the 
 whole wide world will have nothing to do with 
 him, and combine, unconsciously, to ruin him. 
 Tyrannous Russia sets her face against him like a 
 fire. Army-ridden Germany has a bosom of flint 
 for him. Free America turns her back on those 
 imploring hands and eyes. Into what sort of 
 horrible, inconscient corporate monster has our 
 civilization grown ? How helpless it is to guard 
 itself from being cruel ! Poor, poor little helpless, 
 ignorant, dirty, ugly Russian Jew I The world 
 has no use for you — you may go hang or drown. 
 We never wanted you. We shall never miss you. 
 God help you, poor wretch. I protest my heart 
 has ached over you, but is that of any use or 
 service ? And why should America take you in 
 to swell her growing tide of poverty ? Go back 
 again. But whither ? If there can still be good 
 fortune in the world for you, make haste and die, 
 poor friend and humble brother. You h-^ve, in 
 common with the rest of us, a refuge in the grave. 
 But how hard we make the road to that cold 
 shelter. Honestly, I can't find heart to go on with 
 this, but there are many pleasanter sides to Ellis 
 Island, and I hasten now to their consideration. 
 
 In the old Castle Garden days large classes of 
 a more or less criminal character lived upon the 
 unprotected foreigners, who, ignorant of the 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 139 
 
 language of their new country and of methods of 
 transit, of distances and directions, fell easily in 
 their hands. Women were decoyed to shame, and 
 men were fleeced remorselessly of their poor 
 savings. This state of things had reached to the 
 condition of a public scandal, but the beginning 
 of the work at Ellis Island put an end to it. 
 Walking about the great hall, with its cage-like 
 divisions, the visitor comes across many partitioned 
 spaces, at the entrance to each of which is printed 
 the name of a line of railway, with the names of 
 the chief cities which lie along its route. The 
 immigrants are sorted out by the officials of the 
 place, the destination of each one is carefully 
 ascertained, and each batch of foreign strangers is 
 personally conducted to its proper train. Aboard 
 the trains, again, are official interpreters, whose 
 business it is to see that each traveller is landed 
 at his objective point. By this system the rascal 
 crowd which once gorged itself on the stranger 
 element is held at harmless distance. 
 
 Here, for instance, is a highly respectable look- 
 ing young woman, of, perhaps, eight and twenty 
 years of age, dressed with extreme neatness, 
 though with no approach to fashion. She speaks 
 French and German with equal fluency and exact- 
 ness, but has no English. Her destination lies 
 somewhere in New York city, where she is going 
 to live with friends. She is not allowed to land 
 
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140 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 t- 
 
 and encounter the possible dangers of the streets 
 alone, but is detained until the coming of her 
 friends, to whom a message has already been de- 
 spatched, apprising them of her arrival. In all 
 cases excellent care is taken of the detained. 
 They are well and plentifully fed, and where the 
 detention endures for any length of time they are 
 accommodated with clean and comfortable 
 quarters. There are grumblers, of course, for 
 whom nothing is good enough, and divers English 
 immigrants, who had probably never had such 
 are put before them in their lives, were noisy in 
 their complaints about the food. One of them, 
 with his nose making a wrinkled progress of 
 disgust toward his forehead, sat over a supply of 
 appetizing and nourishing soup, with the declara- 
 tion that he never " cared about broth." The 
 purely alien elements seemed better satisfied, 
 however — and, indeed, it is the inalienable 
 privilege of an Englishman of any class and under 
 any conditions to be dissatisfied. 
 
 The individual cases of hardship inflicted by that 
 sweeping law against the importation of contract 
 labour are not allowed to go unexamined. Here 
 is an instance : — There is brought before the 
 Assistant-Commissioner's notice a young fellow 
 from the old country, lithe, well knit, with a face 
 which for honesty, manliness, and good nature is 
 a letter of recommendation for all the world to 
 
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Ellis Island 
 
 141 
 
 read. He looks very clean and tidy and workman- 
 like in his trim cap and sleeved waistcoat, and 
 being pretty tolerably conscious of his ability to 
 earn a living anywhere, he is less downcast than 
 his companions in the miserable crowd of the 
 rejected. The young man is questioned, and has 
 a very plain and straightforward tale to tell. He 
 is by trade a blacksmith, and comes from Wilt- 
 shire, England, not far from old Devizes. *' My 
 brother's in this country. He wrote to me and 
 said he could give me work. I jacked up a good 
 job I'd got there, and came out at two days' 
 notice." Assuredly not at all the sort of young man 
 any country would be justified in refusing. There 
 is a court of appeal at Washington which finally 
 settles these matters on the judgment of the 
 Commissioners. This court is strict, but it has 
 the power to override the mere letter of the law, 
 and in cases where personal injustice would be 
 obvious it often does it. The young man from 
 Wiltshire is to be brought up for further exami- 
 nation on the morrow. He may secure a recom- 
 mendation to the powers at Washington, and that 
 recommendation may be favourably received. Ir^ 
 that case he meets no further trouble, but has 
 merely had an interesting insight into the working 
 of the emigration law. In any case he can enter 
 the bounds of the great republic if he is fixed in 
 his determination. He can return to another port 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 than New York after his deportation to Europe, 
 can announce himself as having no employment, 
 and can leave the authorities without a vestige of 
 a reason for sending him back once more. The 
 feebleness of the law lies in the fact that a know- 
 ledge of its working would at once render it 
 inoperative. If the incoming workman knew of 
 its methods he might easily come over on a 
 friendly understanding, and so join brother or 
 father or other relative without trouble. 
 
 There is one wise provision in the statute, and 
 that is, in throwing the onus of bringing fitting 
 emigrants upon the shipping companies. They 
 are bound to take back, without charge, all persons 
 who, for whatever cause within the Act, are 
 rejected by the United States officials. This 
 reasonable stipulation is making the shipowners 
 and their agents extremely careful, and it seems to 
 me that a further application as to the employers 
 of labour on this side would act as beneficially. 
 But I have already expressed my opinion on that 
 matter, and if the suggestion is worth anything it 
 may bear fruit. 
 
 The pleasantest part of the whole fascinating 
 exhibition on Ellis Island is the hospital, which is 
 quite perfect of its kind, and amply provisioned in 
 all respects for the claims which are made upon it. 
 There is one provision with respect to the working 
 of this institution which seems to be dictated by 
 
 
 I ! 
 
Ellis Island Hospital 
 
 143 
 
 an extraordinary generosity. Any emigrant 
 received by the State has a right to treatment 
 there, in case of necessity, for the space of one 
 whole year after the date of his arrival. It would 
 seem at first sight as if the space accorded to Dr. 
 Wheeler and his assistants would be inadequate to 
 the demand upon it created by this rule, but, in 
 effect, it is not so. Few of the foreign emigrants 
 arc aware of the law. Few of them, again, remain 
 in New York city or its vicinity. They are 
 scattered far and wide over four million square 
 miles of territory, and if any physical or mental 
 trouble befalls them, they are treated by local 
 institutions in the districts to which they have 
 emigrated. 
 
 We learn in the hospital of curious devices 
 resorted to by the relatives of detained women. 
 Here is the case of a woman of proved im aoral 
 life, who is lying in the doctor's care, and who, on 
 her recovery, will be sent back to her home in 
 Europe. Her relatives, who are Continental Jews 
 of a low type, have found a young citizen of 
 her own race who is willing, for a consideration, 
 to marry her. The authorities, however, are 
 sufficiently familiar with this method to know all 
 about the arrangement made, a. a to know that 
 when once the undesirable female was smuggled 
 into the country under this pretence the marriage 
 would turn out practically a sham, and bride and 
 
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 The Cockney Columuus 
 
 bridegroom would separate as soon as the desired 
 object was accomplished. That is their experience, 
 and a very odd little corner of human nature it 
 opens up for contemplation. 
 
 Here again is an interesting case. A woman of 
 weak mind — not absolutely an idiot — is sitting at 
 a bedside twining her fingers, and smiling with a 
 nervous foolishness. She is of Irish birth, has 
 been sent for by relatives on this side, and was 
 absolutely friendless and alone in her own country. 
 She has a brother and several sisters here, who 
 are very anxious to have her in their care. They 
 declare that she will be moderately useful to them, 
 that she has intelligence enough to mind children 
 and undertake simple household work. They 
 themselves seem respectable and well-to-do, and 
 if, on inquiry, it should prove that they are able to 
 give a sufficient guarantee that the poor thing is 
 not likely to become chargeable to public funds, 
 she will be allowed to join them. If, on the other 
 hand, the Commissioner comes to *.he conclusion 
 that there is danger of her becoming a public bur- 
 den, home she goes. " Our first duty," says the 
 Assistant-Commissioner, " is to protect the body 
 politic. That is the purpose for which we are 
 appointed and paid. But in cases where, without 
 danger, we can exercise a kindly discretion, the law 
 allows it." The only thing to be done is to pre- 
 serve a strict impartiality, and to extrude all con- 
 
Ellis Island 
 
 145 
 
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 sidcrations of mere sentiment. And tlmt this is 
 not an easy thinp^ — for even officials, after all, arc 
 human — I saw enouj^h in a single dny to prove. 
 
 With the single exception of that one provision 
 about contract labour, which pinches whcic it was 
 never meant to pinch, I have seen no place more 
 wisely and humanely ordered than Ellis Island. 
 Judging by one sample day, it is distinguished by 
 an unusually businesslike alacrity. The officers 
 are courteous, urbane, and patient. The over- 
 whelming 'etter of the law is not administered in 
 its severity, but is chastened by a wise discretion. 
 The waifs and strays of humanity, who come there 
 in such great numbers, are treated to such a wel- 
 come as they would find on no other shore, arc 
 scdi'lr usly kept out of mischief, and are fed, housed, 
 and finally transported to their destinations under 
 the charge of experienced officers. Altogether, I 
 take my leave of Ellis Island with very friendly 
 feelings toward it, and with unstinted thanks foi> 
 the courtesy and patience of the gentlemen to 
 whose kindness I am indebted for my visit. And 
 yet, all the same, the problem opened for consider- 
 ation here is one of the saddest in the world — 
 " The surplus population ! " Ah, dear lady, should 
 you or I become " surplus " — which may Heaven 
 avert ! — we should know a bitterness which with- 
 out experience never can be known. I shall see 
 the distorted, weeping face of that ugly, dirty 
 
 
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 146 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 little Jew at times uriti! I can no more remember 
 anything. Rejected by the two greatest autocratic 
 powers and by the great republic. Not wanted 
 anywhere. Not suffered or sufferable anywhere. 
 What has he done to be raised to that dreadful 
 dignity — to be scorned and rejected by three 
 great nations ? 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I HAVE travelled a matter of some seven thousand 
 miles within this last four months, by rail, road, 
 lake, and river, and all of it on British soil. The 
 Cockney prejudice is ineradicable, and I can no 
 more help being glad at finding myself amongst 
 my own people than I can help breathing. In 
 the United States I made a hundred agreeable 
 acquaintances, and two or three friendships. I 
 encountered an almost invariable courtesy and 
 kindness, and I shall always hope to go back 
 again. But home is home when all is said and 
 done, and in Canada I have found myself less a 
 stranger than I have done either in New Zealand 
 or Australia or at the Cape, and a hundred times 
 more at ease than all the goodwill of America 
 could make me. That the United States and 
 England will yet be solidly one in friendship, and 
 that all the old soreness will die out in course of 
 time, is a rooted faith with me, but the hour is not 
 yet, and all the cordiality, the beautiful sincerity 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 i 
 
 of character and welcome one learns to know 
 there do not hide the fact that there is a certain 
 diffidence on either side, and even, here and there, 
 a certain defiance and mistrust. 
 
 From the beginning of my colonial travels 
 until now, I have always noticed that among 
 such people as are naturally prone to be loyal 
 to the old country, the sentiment of loyalty 
 is increased with distance, just as the body is 
 most sensitive at its extremities. In Canada a 
 kindred fact comes home to the least observant. 
 The further you get away from home in the limits 
 of this vast dominion, the more home-like the 
 people grow — the more home-like cities and town- 
 ships appear — the more home-like is the accent 
 which strikes upon the ears. This is not, as you 
 might fancy, a result of custom, but an actual 
 matter of fact, and is quite easily explained. If 
 you take an eastern city you find that a good 
 proportion of its business and social influences are 
 from the United States. It would be surprising if 
 Toronto, for instance (which is within a few hours' 
 rail from Boston and New York, and a mere stride 
 away from Buffalo, as distances are reckoned here) 
 differed in any remarkable degree from the great 
 American cities of the east. There is a spice of 
 the American tone in speech, there is a touch of 
 America in manners, there is a suggestion of the 
 Amer'can physiognomy. A very observant young 
 
i 
 
 Canadian Characteristics 
 
 149 
 
 American whom I met in Boston assured me that 
 in the course of some years of travel on the 
 European continent he had learned to know his 
 countrymen by a single feature. He found the 
 American eye unmistakable, and he declared that 
 when once he had learned to set himself this test 
 he had never made a mistake. Half the business 
 men in Toronto might lead him astray. The 
 differences which mark the two peoples have as 
 yet scarcely grown perceptible. But travel west- 
 ward, and with every score of miles you find a 
 change towards the type you know in England, 
 and by the time you have reached Vancouver you 
 are amongst men and women as distinctly English 
 as if you met them in Warwickshire or Devonshire. 
 The houses are English — the suburbs of Vancouver 
 or Victoria might belong to any prosperous English 
 city — the flowers and shrubs are English. If [he 
 keenest observer in the world were carried thit ler 
 on the magic carpet, he would find only one sign 
 to tell him that he was over six thousand m.les 
 from Leamington. The grass which decks the 
 trim and well-kept lawns of the suburban gardens 
 is not the English grass. It is green and luxuriant, 
 soft to the foot and pleasant to the eye, but it is 
 another herb altogether. That is not much of a 
 difference to mark so great a distance, but it is the 
 only one that you will find on the outside. You 
 will wake up by-and-by to the fact that no town of 
 
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150 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 equal size at home is anything Hke so well served 
 in the way of electric light and electric com- 
 munication. Things generally in this very new 
 country are more " up-to-date " than they are 
 with us. The cities of which I speak, the city 
 from which I date this letter, and many others, 
 are almost literally the children of the Canadian 
 Pacific Railway. That great line is only eleven 
 years old. The journey across the Continent so 
 recently spanned provokes many strange reflec- 
 tions. The line threads across hundreds and 
 hundreds of miles of prairie, level as a billiard 
 board, and hundreds of miles of " rolling" prairie, 
 heaving in giant billows like an arrested sea ; and 
 then traverses hundreds and hundreds of miles 
 more along the stupendous passes of the Rocky 
 Mountains and the Selkirks. The iron threads, 
 as if they were veritably alive, have created and 
 fed a ganglion here and there, and already they 
 palpitate from end to end. That small indomitable 
 insect, man, has done many remarkable things in 
 his time, but he has done little, if anything, more 
 astonishing than this same Pacific Railway. The 
 line across the mountains is one of the engineering 
 feats of the world, and there is probably no route 
 on the earth's surface where the traveller may 
 enjoy in combination so much physical comfoit 
 and such a feast of natural splendour. There a^ . 
 no better appointed carriages on any line, there 
 
The^^Canadian Pacific Railway 151 
 
 is no bette- table, there is no better sleeping 
 accommodation. The land passage across the 
 Continent is as comfortable as the sea passage in 
 the best appointed of modern ocean steamers in 
 the steadiest weather, and for four days out of the 
 six it occupies it is one long-drawn dream of 
 splendour and delight. The beauty of the journey 
 begins when you strike the shore of the first of the 
 great lakes. The weather on my outward journey 
 was divine. Great masses of pearly cloud floated 
 all day long about the horizon, hanging, it seemed, 
 at almost incredible distances. The shores of the 
 fresh-water sea are lined in many places with rocks 
 of vivid red, and craggy islands of the same colour 
 and formation stud the surface of the water. The 
 air is exquisitely clear, and details are visible at 
 great distances. The islands withdraw in a 
 procession of jewelled colour which is really quite 
 indescribable. The nearest take a ruby glow in 
 the sunshine ; then the blue of distance .'' ix s the 
 ruby into amethyst, and further on tones amethyst 
 to sapphire. The sky is pale sapphire, and the 
 lake is deep sapphire. This tells you nothing. 
 One might write a list of beauties as long as an 
 auctioneer's catalogue, and still tell nothing. Yet 
 one cannot resist the temptation to attempt some 
 description, and perhaps, though these quiet 
 beauties evade us by their very tranquility and 
 delicacy, the stormier grandeurs of the mountains 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 may yield something to lay hold upon. When 
 you have done with the smooth monotones of the 
 treeless level reach of land through which the train 
 has hurried you for two days and nights, the 
 character of the landscape changes. You know 
 that the mountains are as yet far in front of you, 
 but you have arrived at the region where the 
 volcanic action which originally lifted them gave 
 as it were its last and feeblest kick. The last 
 shudder of the solid earth shaken by that 
 tremendous convulsion seems to have been felt 
 here, and the surface for thousands of square 
 miles is all in mounds and heaps and ridges. It 
 is like nothing so much as the waves of a 
 tumultuous sea fixed in solidity, and quiet at its 
 maddest moment. Every traveller has had that 
 simile forced upon him, and no man will find 
 another to express the scene so well ; but no sea 
 that mortal eye has gazed upon ever ran in such 
 tremendous waves. This district passed, you come 
 upon more level prairie, and then as night closes 
 down you get your first glimpse of the hills. We 
 made " The Gap " — the portal of the mountains 
 — late at night, and had no moon, so that there 
 was nothing for it but to turn in and wait for 
 daylight. By morning we were two thousand feet 
 above the sea-level, and climbing fast, and the 
 panorama of the Rockies was about us. There 
 are many separate magnificences in the world of 
 
The Rocky Mountains 
 
 153 
 
 
 mountain landscape to rival most of the views 
 which break .^pon you here, but for extent and 
 continuance you would be hard put to it to find 
 an equal to the glory of this journey. I have 
 never in my life experienced a fatigue of mind and 
 spirit so crushing as that which fell upon me here= 
 The mountain torrents with their deep voices call 
 you to watch their swirl and leap and coil. Vast 
 eminences lift their shining crests of white ; long 
 blue ranges butt their huge shoulders through the 
 clouds ; single peaks stand aloft with craggy heads 
 cut out against the sheet of blue, as if it were a 
 feat to stand so for a second ; beyond the gloom 
 of miles and miles of pine forest the broad field of 
 a glacier dazzles as if the sun-rays struck it with a 
 hammer and beat out from it endless splashes of 
 white fire ; some wall of basalt stares at you like 
 a fixed blind human face ; some stretch of 
 cadmium and rose and violet, where lichen and 
 heather have taken hold upon the rocks, is here 
 and gone again ; the mountain side overhangs the 
 rushing train as if it would fall upon it ; the rock 
 that bears you is hidden from sight, so that your 
 car seems to travel in mid-air ; left or right the 
 walls of the gorge break suddenly away, and you 
 are aware of a tumbled glory of sun-smitten cloud 
 and mountain top, and a wilderness of shadow as 
 blue as deepest sea water ; a distant waterfall, 
 plaiting its quivering rope of silver wire, is seen 
 
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154 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 . I 
 
 for a second and no more ; the splendid procession 
 charges on, and on, and on, with every separate 
 spectacle in it a wonder and a joy ; a fever of 
 exaltation takes the mind, the eye and the spirit 
 ache alike, and you would not rest from it if you 
 could, and could not if you would. 
 
 It is no more possible to describe the Kicking 
 Horse River or the Frazer Caiion than it would 
 be to shoulder one of the mountains which line 
 their courses. The first-named is the wildest 
 worry of waters I have ever yet beheld ; the 
 stream gnashing and howling down there in hellish 
 chasms ; tearing at its rocky confines with raging 
 hands, leaping, twisting into hard slow coils, as if 
 in deadly resolve to stay its course and go no 
 further, and then streaming on again and leaping 
 out anew with shouts of triumph and horror and 
 despair. The Frazer River bears a broader 
 stream, and travels a less precipitate and awful 
 road, but there is a steadfast terrible might in it 
 which is to the full as impressive. I saw a giant 
 pine tree in its waters, a great stripped trunk 
 three times the length of any tree we grow in 
 England, whirled hither and thither like a straw 
 in a rain-filled gutter. There is one place where 
 a massive fragment of rock stands in the centre of 
 the stream. It is as big as a cathedral, and the 
 rushing waters are banked up high against it by 
 their own impetus. There the wave rears itself. 
 
An Everlast' '^, Wave 
 
 155 
 
 and has reared itself night and day for how many 
 thousands of years ? The great uphfted glittering 
 coil, heaped against the rock, has never broken. 
 It will never break for a million years to come 
 unless some convulsion of nature shall divert the 
 river's course, or hurl the obstacle from its base. 
 And the base is deep, how deep only a careful mathe- 
 matical calculation could tell you. Measurement by 
 sounding, in such a torrent is out of question. But 
 many miles further on this river runs through 
 quiet plains, where it spreads out to a width of a 
 mile or more, and here its volume might be esti- 
 mated. The same press of waters is forced 
 through a gorge not more, I should suppose, than 
 three hundred feet wide in some places. 
 
 The night which followed on the first day of 
 this mountain journey will be memorable to me 
 as long as I remember anything. I was as weary 
 with mere pleasure and excitement as I have ever 
 been with anything, but for an hour or two sleep 
 seemed out of the question. When it came it was 
 a repetition of the day, but such an exaggeration 
 of it as only sleep could bring. I travelled 
 through gorges which could have been realized 
 only at the cost of splitting the earth to its centre, 
 and I shuddered under mountains, where im- 
 possibly magnified Alps were heaped on incredible 
 Himalayas. 
 
 I made my return journey to Winnipeg slowly, 
 
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 150 
 
 Ti!L Cockney Columbus 
 
 visiting map.y places by the way, and seeking to 
 familiarize myself with the spirit of the mountains, 
 but in a very small space of time everything had 
 changed. The forest fires had broken out, and all 
 the vistas were obscured. A mountain side was a 
 flat wash of deep indigo. A mile further off 
 another mountain side was a flat wash of paler 
 indigo ; and a mile further still earth began to 
 fade altogether and mix with the pervading im- 
 palpable formless smoke-cloud. For two or three 
 months in the year it is vain to travel by this 
 route if you arc in search of landscape. The fires 
 destroy millions of trees annuall}', and fears are 
 sometimes expressed lest they should denude the 
 country, but when one remembers how many 
 hundreds of thousands of square miles of forest 
 there are, the dread begins to grow a little vision- 
 ary. These conflagrations have many beginnings. 
 Travellers who build fires at night, and take too 
 little pains to extinguish them, are responsible for 
 many. The attrition of dried boughs and grasses 
 is answerable for others. One fruitful cause is 
 little known, and is in itself singular enough to 
 deserve mention. Most of the trees are resinous, 
 and the great tears they weep in the hot summer 
 weather collect and harden, and often form in a 
 clear globular shape which focuses the sun-rays 
 as a burning glass would do. This is the ex- 
 planation of many fires which break out, in 
 
Thk Gold Country 
 
 157 
 
 perfectly still weather, in regions where no man's 
 foot has trod for years. I had fancied in my 
 ignorance that a forest fire would be a magnificent 
 spectacle, and when I learned that on my journey 
 through the Kootenay country I was certain to 
 pass many thousands of blazing acres, 1 made up 
 my mind to unheard-of grandeurs. But in this 
 case at least the dullest imagination transcends 
 the fact, from a pictorial point of view. You live 
 in a world which is blotted out from view in a 
 brown fog of smoke. You travel hundreds of 
 miles through it, and it never lifts or breaks for a 
 single instant. Sun, moon, and stars have dis- 
 appeared for a season, and a gruesome twilight 
 reigns even on a September noonday. 
 
 Nelson stills calls itself the capital of the gold- 
 mining district, but it is a sleepy place, and looks 
 as if it had had its day. Rossland is the real 
 centre, and ferments with life and energy. It 
 struck me as being very odd that at the time of 
 my visit British capitalists were apparently 
 ignorant of the existence of this great new gold- 
 field, and that all the moneyed enterprise came 
 from America. It was natural enough that this 
 should be so just at first, for Rossland is within a 
 score of miles of the American border, and 
 Spokane Falls, in the State of Washington, is the 
 nearest city. Six months before I reached it the 
 place bore no name. Half a year earlier the 
 
 
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 TiiR Cockney Columhus 
 
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 primeval forest stood there, silent and unbroken. 
 Gold was discovered, the inevitable rush came, 
 the forest was cleared away, and a town sprang 
 up like majj^ic. There were seventeen hotels 
 already, and the electric light was installed eve-y- 
 where. The town had water-works, shops and 
 stores of all sorts, and a weekly newspaper. 
 There was a population of nearly fifteen hundred 
 male adults in actual settlement and regularly 
 employed. There was a floating population of 
 half as many more, and money was being made 
 by the cart-load. One of the most amazing 
 things I ever knew lay in the fact that this vast 
 mob of humanity had but two policemen to guard 
 its legal rights, and had never once been in need 
 of more. Common labourers who could handle 
 pick and shovel were making a pound a day. 
 Drink was to be had in any quantity, but during 
 my stay I did not see one drunken man per diem. 
 Twenty miles off, across the border, there was a 
 mining camp, peopled by exactly the same kind 
 of adventurers, and there crimes of violence were 
 common. In Rosslaud, I was told, there was a 
 wholesome certainty about the administration of 
 the law. One ruffian shot a man there, very early 
 in the history of the place. He was arrested, 
 very much to his surprise ; was tried, very much 
 to his surprise ; and, finally, to his own prodigious 
 amazement, hanged. He took it very bitterly, 
 
A l-'OREST I'IKE 
 
 and r,aicl, when the end 
 
 that 
 
 mid 
 
 came, 
 liavc had a chance across the border. 
 
 We had one nij^ht of consideralile excitement 
 there during my brief stay. We had come out of 
 the forest fires, and had got into tlie clear air 
 again ; but one afternoon news reached the town- 
 ship that a fire had been somehow started within 
 half a mile, and had taken a firm h'^ld. At first 
 people paid very little heed to this intelligence. 
 Now and again a citi;?en would stroll out into the 
 street and shade his eyes against the sun, whilst 
 he took an observation ofthe rising smoke-wreaths. 
 Then he went quietly back to his business, or 
 dropped into the nearest hotel to discuss the 
 matter idly with the barman. IJut as the night 
 grew, further news came in, and the fire began to 
 take a dangerous and disturbing look. The entire 
 place is built of planking, and is as dry as tinder 
 after its months of baking in the hot summer sun. 
 The trees come up to the township on every side, 
 and a single waft of wind in the right direction 
 would have borne the flames down upon it. Had 
 such a thing happened, Rossland would have been 
 in ashes in a few minutes. For an hour or two 
 after nightfall the air was almost still. A puff of 
 wind came now and then, and even from the 
 slowest-breathing air one got an idea of what 
 might happen. The sulky fire smouldering on the 
 hillside gathered itself into a ruddy glow, and as 
 
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i6o 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 the soft breeze fanned it, it broadened, and sud- 
 denly shot into a very pyramid of flame. Then 
 the breeze died, and the fire dropped down again. 
 Once when the wind (sucked up the long, curving 
 valley by the change of temperature between day 
 and night) grew vigorous for perhaps two minutes, 
 the flames rose and made a leap to the very top- 
 most spar of a giant pine, and for a few seconds 
 the tree blazed like a torch. With the cessation 
 of the wind, the light died out with a singular 
 swiftness. Before this the people were wide awake 
 to their danger. Six hundred men were drawn 
 from the mines and sent out to fight the fire, and 
 before morning they had cleared a very consider- 
 able tract of land. Had the wind held, their 
 labours would have gone for nothing, but, happily 
 for everybody concerned, the night was unusually 
 still, and so the fire was isolated, and burned 
 itself out without damage, except to one outstand- 
 ing mill^ which had to be abandoned. One 
 smart gentleman who kept a store, ran off full tilt 
 to Trail, which is on the river some seven miles 
 away, and sent a telegram to ratify an insurance 
 policy, for which he had been in treaty. This 
 cost him some five hundred dollars, and when he 
 got back from paying it the fire was practically 
 subdued. I have heard more eloquent orators, 
 but I never knew a public speaker more in 
 earnest. 
 
 
The Corn Country 
 
 i6i 
 
 These new-built, weather-board, forest- bound 
 townships aie never safe until they have been 
 burned down once, at least. One big fire clears 
 away the forest, which is the first element of 
 danger. A second, or a third fire, if the place 
 should live long enough, leads to a more solid 
 method of building. 
 
 I am back at Winnipeg, and after a month or two 
 of wandering in the auriferous regions of the gi"\\\t 
 North-West, I have seen a sight on my way Iwther 
 which is worth all the goldfields in the world. I 
 have just come through the great wheat-growing 
 territory, where for many a mile, along the li\\>\ 
 and as far as the eye can reach on either s\\\e, a 
 perfect sea of corn lay waiting for the harvest. 
 Three months r.go on these prairie lands we 
 encountered a spell of rainy weather, and one of 
 my fellow-travellers was grumbling dismally. 
 Another man rebuked him. " This rain," he 
 said, " is worth a million dollais a day, solid." I 
 have no doubt he was right, for there had been a 
 time of serious drought, and the whole wheat-crop 
 was threatened. Now everybody is happy and 
 smiling. The bounteous harvest gives a fillip to 
 every trade and industry. The discovery of gold 
 brings prosperity to the few who find it, or who 
 have the luck to speculate successfully in it. But 
 its cheapening only makes bread the dearer, whilst 
 this golden growth on the surface means, in its 
 
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l62 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 'I 
 
 degree, an added prosperity to the whole wide 
 world. 
 
 I have been moved to write a song for 
 Winnipeg, and I send it to you for what it may 
 be worth. 
 
 WINNIPEG. 
 
 Here's a sonj^ for the Prairie Queen, 
 
 Alternate bride of the sun and the snow. 
 
 Her loves divided the twain between, 
 
 As the seasons come and the seasons go, 
 
 Clothed in her garment of silvery sheen, 
 
 Or in robes shot through with the summer's glow. 
 
 Here, where she stands in her beauty's pride, 
 But a decade ago did the Redskin roam. 
 
 I was grey already, when far and wide 
 These fertile fi' Ids were the bison's homf.. 
 
 So mere a ripple has stirred Time's tide 
 S'nce the Saxon came o'er the salt sea's foam. 
 
 And the Saxon hand and the Saxon brain 
 
 Wrought hi t-e, thought there, till the desert smiled, 
 
 Till they harnessed fire to the roaring train, 
 And made of the ligiitning a docile child, 
 
 Till the fields of a province were golden with grain. 
 Till a city stood in the midst of the wild. 
 
 O bright new link in the steel-strong band 
 Which clasps us close from the fear of ill ! 
 
 You were forged in the fires of an alien land 
 With a Saxon heart and a Saxon will, 
 
 And the Saxon brain and the Saxon hand, 
 In the salt sea's spite are Saxon still ! 
 
 t 
 
 l> I 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 m 
 
 
 London. 
 
 I AM back in my own study, and I can mournfully 
 assure myself that I have missed, by a hair-breadth 
 only, one of the most moving and dramatic things 
 in the recent history of the world. I was held 
 back from it by considerations which looked quite 
 adequate at the time, but if I had been able to 
 forecast things, I would have thrown them to the 
 wind. 
 
 I might have been one of the first organized 
 band to set foot on the soil of Klondyke, and I 
 can see now quite clearly that I ought to have 
 gone when the chance was open to me. My 
 regret at having lost my opportunity is not in the 
 least increased by the belief that I should have 
 found riches there, for gold-digging is one of the 
 last games I should choose to play at, and the 
 idea of speculating in the midst of such a crowd as 
 is gathered there at this moment makes me laugh. 
 But the great drama ot life there would have been 
 a thing to see and to remember. I talked inti- 
 
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 K' 
 
164 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 mately v/ith the men who first became aware of 
 the riches of that region. I handled gold that 
 came from its valleys before it had ever found its 
 way to the market, and I more than half arranged, 
 for the mere sake of the trip, to go there. 
 
 When I was travelling westward on the Pacific 
 Railway, a bright, handsome and gentlemanly 
 young fellow came to me aboard the train, with a 
 letter of introduction. We talked for a little while, 
 and he asked my good offices for a lady who was 
 travelling in the same direction as myself, and was 
 going to join her husband. I was introduced to 
 the lady, and I discovered that she was bound 
 upon a very unusual expedition. She was the 
 wife of the officer who had been appointed to the 
 command of the first body o"" Dominion forces to 
 be quartered in British Alaska. The expedition 
 consisted of two officers and twenty men. They 
 were going by steamer through the Behring Sea, 
 and down the Yukon River, and they had arranged 
 to arrive at their destination in time to build huts 
 against the winter, and be ready for the months 
 of darkness which wrap those high latitudes in 
 their cold and dreadful pall at that season of the 
 year. This courageous lady was going with her 
 husb-^pd. I have a horror of intruding on the 
 privacies of life, but I think I may say without 
 any danger of being offensive that her affection 
 and devotion weie very plainly to be seen, and 
 
Klondyke Gold 
 
 165 
 
 were very beautiful and touching. She had no 
 illusions as to what she was called upon to face, 
 and she neither feared the future nor made light 
 of it. Captain Constantine had been there 
 already, and knew all about it, and what was 
 good enough for Captain Constantine w^as good 
 enough for Mrs. Constantine. The discovery of 
 gold was bringing a certain number of adventurous 
 stragglers to the place, so I learned from her. It 
 was British ground, but not very far from the 
 United States border, and there was a question of 
 Customs dues. Such excisable articles as were 
 being brought into the district were paying no 
 duty. Captain Constantine had gone over a year 
 before to look at things, and had collected certain 
 duties single-handed. I have forgotten the sum 
 he realized for his Government, but small as it 
 may have been, it was enough to show that trade 
 was gathering there, and more as a matter of 
 principle than of actual gain it was decided to 
 establish a Government poot. This was the first 
 I had ever heard of Yukon gold, but Mrs. 
 Constantine placed in my hand a bracelet which 
 her husband had given to her. It was made of 
 nuggets which he had gathere.d on his first visit. 
 They varied in weight, the largest not being any 
 bigger than a Barcelona nut, and the smallest 
 about the size of a horsebean. They were simply 
 threaded on a wire, and the precious metal was so 
 
i66 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 very soft and pure that when I handled it, it left 
 upon my fingers exactly such a fine bright dust 
 as the most delicate touch will carry away from 
 a butterfly's wing. There were great quantities 
 of gold to be found, but translating the opinion 
 which was then universal, Mrs. Constantine 
 assured me that very few people would ever go to 
 look for it because of the difficulties of the road 
 and the rigours of the climate. 
 
 At Regina, which is the seat of Government 
 for the North- West Territory, and the head- 
 quarters of the North-West Mounted Police, I 
 had the pleasure of encountering Captain Con- 
 stantine himself, a compressed Hercules of a man, 
 tanned and hardened by years of the toughest 
 adventure in the wildest of places. I found him a 
 man of few words, but unlike most silent men in 
 the possession of a sunny temper. If he had little 
 enough to say about himself, other people had a 
 great deal to say for him, and it was not long 
 before I discovered that he was one of those born 
 adventurers and captains of men who are at work 
 in every (juarter of the world in the jiiiildiiijr of 
 our empire. Alert, prescient, indomitable, 
 thoughtful for others, a strict disciplinarian, 
 saying, " Come " rather thiin "Go," thoroughly 
 trusted, alike by his superiors and the men in his 
 command — the pick of a vviiole picked force for 
 the work in hand. I beeuiled him once to talk 
 
The North-West Mounted Police 167 
 
 for an instant about his experiences on his first 
 journey into the newly-discovered gold country, 
 and he gave me the merest spice of a description 
 of it. *' Pretty tough road to travel," he said, 
 with a cheerful brevity. *' Hot sun by day — 
 melted slush up to the knees — clouds of mos- 
 quitoes about your head — ground frozen solid at 
 night." It was such a customary thing in the 
 way of small discomfort as hardly to be worth 
 talking about. Now, of course, he was going out 
 under different conditions, with all the resources 
 of civilization at his back. They would have their 
 log huts up before the winter set in. 
 
 His second in command was Lieutenant 
 Strickland, also a solid and reticent man, some 
 years younger than his chief, and, by comparison 
 with him, almost talkative. From him I learned 
 a good deal about the expedition, the members of 
 which had every one been chosen for his possession 
 of a special faculty. One man, for instance, was 
 a special hand at making a raft, and another man 
 had a practical turn for boat-building, and still 
 another was particularly excellent as a lumber- 
 man, and a fourth was a proven dandy as a builder 
 of log huts. Take the twenty through, and there 
 was no one thing which any such body as them- 
 selves could need to have done on such an expedi- 
 tion as they contemplated, but they could do it. 
 They could bake and wash, and sew, make clothes, 
 
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i68 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 
 mend boots, and do a hundred household things. 
 They could build a boat or a cart, or a sledge, or 
 repair an engine, or mend a gun. They could 
 hunt and trap, and farm, and they were all intrepid 
 horsemen, and first-rate scouts and soldiers. In 
 point of fact you might drag the world with a 
 net, and find nobody more capable of such a 
 service as they were bound on. A great deal of 
 this I learned from the second in command, but I 
 should be doing him quite a grave injustice if I 
 made it to appear that he was in any way boastful 
 of his men. It was to him the merest matter of 
 course, that they should be able to do all these 
 things and many more. He knew his fellows to 
 be well-equipped and widely accomplished, but if 
 they had been other than the men they were they 
 would have been stupidly out of place. 
 
 Perhaos there is hardly a force in the world 
 which in all points deserves to be compared with 
 the North-West Mounted Police. Their achieve- 
 ments have not been often chronicled, but if ever 
 a man of the Rudyard Kipling type should happen 
 to spend a year or two in their ranks the world 
 will find a new realm of romance opened for its 
 reading. There is a very large percentage of 
 gentlemen in the ranks — a very unusually large 
 percentage, I believe. I was standing in the 
 square of the main quarters at Regina one day 
 with a man who knew them well. " If you had 
 
The Alaskan Expedition 
 
 169 
 
 the life story of each of these boys," he said, " you 
 wouldn't need to go further afield for plots for 
 your story-books." He added that if the sack of 
 each man's memory were overhauled it would not 
 be a rare thing to find a pack of cards, or a bottle, 
 or a lady in it. It is particularly likely that 
 adventures have befallen a man of good family 
 before he seeks for a berth in the Mounted Police, 
 for the dignity affords no silken shelter from the 
 storms of life, but the men who belong to the body 
 have a magnificent esprit de corps, and the gentle- 
 man ranker wears his uniform with as just and 
 proper a pride as the man who has risen to the 
 ranks in place of falling into them. It is not by 
 any slip of the pen that I write of rising to the 
 ranks, for there are hundreds of well-bred young- 
 sters in the Dominion who would be very proud 
 of a place among them, and it is a feather in any 
 man's cap to be enlisted in a body so remarkable. 
 I did actually make application to accompany 
 this Alaskan expedition, and my request was 
 granted by the government, and welcomed by the 
 men who would have been my comrades, but it 
 turned out that it would have meant a disappear- 
 ance from the world for at least eight months, and 
 the adventure did not then seem to justify such an 
 expenditure of time. If I had guessed what was 
 coming, if any prophet had made clear to me the 
 features of the Klondyke rush, I should not have 
 
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 170 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 hesitated for a moment. There is transacting^ 
 itself at this moment a tremendous episode — more 
 dramatic and movin;^' than most campaigns, and 
 lil<ely to he as full of suffering', courage, self- 
 sacriiice, and disaster. Lieutenant Strickland has 
 been sent hack for a couple of hundred men, and 
 has returned with them, with Major Walsh in 
 command, and it seems likely enough that when 
 the passes open next spring, and the crowds which 
 now clamour in vain at Dyea and Skagway find an 
 entry on the new land of gold, even so strong a 
 contingent will have enough to do to hold its own. 
 Mr. Ogilvie, the Government Mining Commisioner, 
 reports from the Klondyke fields that there is room 
 for about three thousand men. Last month 
 seventeen vessels, crammed with humanity, sailed 
 from Seattle and the ports of British Columbia, 
 and if report is to be trusted, many thousands of 
 people are only waiting for a more propitious 
 season to follow them. There will be trouble, and 
 trouble of the gravest sort. 
 
 It is more than a little curious to notice how 
 this Yukon rush has stricken the world of adven- 
 turers, whilst the much more easily accessible gold- 
 fields of comparatively civilized regions in Canada 
 have been neglected. The explanation of the 
 puzzle is partly to be found in the fact that a [ ood 
 many of the Canadian gold-mining ventures of the 
 early days resulted in failure. Men's eyes got 
 
 I I'l 
 
Gold in British Columbia 
 
 171 
 
 turned away, and speculators took to buttoning 
 up their pockets when that kind of adventure was 
 mooted. But in British Columbia a total exporta- 
 tion of gold to the amount of twelve millions 
 sterling has been reached, and such private 
 fortunes as have been realized have fallen mainly 
 into American hands. Gold, after all, does less 
 than the humbler metals towards the permanent 
 enrichment of a country, but it serves one great 
 end in bringing population. Population is 
 Canada's great need ; and she now seems fairly in 
 the way to make such a spring as the Cape has 
 recently made, or as was made by Victoria a 
 generation ago, or by California a little earlier. 
 Gold is found in almost every division of the 
 country from east to west. There is a recent 
 rumour of its discovery in the very streets of 
 Winnipeg, but that seems so far to have disturbed 
 the souls of few. In Ballarat, not so long ago, a 
 man is known to have picked out with a clasp 
 knife, a capful of nuggets from the road-metal of 
 the streets, but in a city where foundations have 
 been dug out, and the earth has been disturbed 
 in every direction, such a find is, of course, an 
 accident, and nobody need hope to repeat the 
 lucky man's experience. Rossland, the centre of 
 the Kootenay district, had when I visited it so brief 
 a time ago, a fixed population of 1500. I learned 
 only a day or two since that this number had 
 
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 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 i 
 
 grown to 4000. The Klondyke fever has probably 
 served to deplete it a little, but its growth, though 
 rapid, has been steady, and is likely to go on. 
 Surface mining — ** placer" work as it is called — 
 has nothing permanent about it, but a gold-bearing 
 quartz may last for many y^ars, and yield as regular 
 a return for capital and labour as coal and iron, 
 British Columbia has undoubtedly the richest 
 permanent goldfields so far discovered, and from 
 Nova Scotia to Vancouver Island there is paying 
 quartz to be found. The Dominion is rich too in 
 silver and in copper, and it has every variety of 
 coal in great profusion. 
 
 It was summer time when I visited Montreal, 
 and I was prepared to find its winter pleasures out 
 of season. But I was not prepared to find the 
 discussion of them quite tabooed in certain circles, 
 and I was a little surprised at the reluctance with 
 which men who were interested in the advance- 
 ment of the country could be brought to talk of 
 them. At last the reason came out. " We have 
 made a mistake," a member of the government 
 said to me, ** in advertising our ice and snows. 
 We have contrived to give the world an idea that 
 our climate is stern and inhospitable, whereas in 
 reality it is nothing of the sort." The true 
 Canadian will not admit that cold is cold in 
 Canada. So far as a year's experience can serve 
 for judgment, I am inclined to think the climate 
 
The Redskins 
 
 173 
 
 very much preferable to that of Great Britain, but 
 it is certain that the thermometer gets down very 
 low at times. But the air in most parts is very dry 
 and bracing, and the inhabitants, without being 
 any tougher than the average Englishman, have 
 rare good health, and live an open-air life for the 
 most part with keen enjoyment. 
 
 Wherever I have t) veiled I have found old 
 native races dying. In New Zealand the Maoris 
 are going fast. In Australia the black fellows' 
 numbers are diminishing year by year. In Canada 
 the red man is going the way of all uncivilized 
 flesh, and even in his reserves he dwindles fast. 
 The redskin will never cease to have a romantic 
 interest in the mind of one whose boyish fancies 
 were nourished by Fennimore Cooper and Mayne 
 Reid, but the modern traveller finds him a sorry 
 spectacle, and I had read and heard so much of 
 his degradation in these later days, that I was 
 surprised and delighted to find the truth about 
 him in certain quarters, and to realize that it was 
 so much better than I had beon taught to fancy. 
 In the North- West there are plenty of practical 
 red-skinned farmers. They work on a small scale, 
 to be sure, but they keep their ground tidy, and 
 they have modern implements of which they know 
 the use, and their little bits of farms are often 
 actually much more clean and orderly than those 
 of the white squatters. In places far up country, 
 
174 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 where settlers are wide apart, the white man 
 deteriorates, and the white woman takes the same 
 downward road. It is a melancholy fact to 
 recognize, but there is no blinking it. Well-bred 
 folks who have no neighbours sink into slattern 
 habits, and grow content with dirt and disorder. 
 I am not to be supposed to be talking for one 
 instant of people who live in settlements. They 
 are as self-respecting and altogether admirable a set 
 of men and women as you could find anywhere in 
 the world. I am talking of the solitaries who have 
 found themselves cut away from social influences 
 of all sorts, and I have seen some of these, whose 
 lot was miserable, the more miserable perhaps that 
 they had fallen into a dull contentment with it. 
 
 I visited one large school for Indian children, 
 where I found the copper-coloured youngsters 
 learning all manner of crafts and trades, and aston- 
 ishingly clever at them — really very much smarter, 
 as it seemed to me, than so many white children 
 would havf. been. A number of very young boys 
 were being taught the trade of sadlery, and the 
 goods they turned out were very excellent and 
 workmanlike indeed. They print a small 
 magazine at this establishment, and in the com- 
 positors' room I found a dusky little chap of nine or 
 ten years ^f age working at case. He was so very 
 small that he had had to take two type-founders' 
 packing-boxes, and set one upon the other for 
 
An Indian Technical School 
 
 175 
 
 himself to stand on before he could get at his 
 work. He was engaged in setting up a poem by 
 Mrs. Hemans for next month's issue, and I 
 watched him at his work for a minute or two, and 
 found him quite master of it. When he had 
 filled his composing-stick, I took it from him 
 and looked it over. It was quite workman- 
 like, and without a blunder, and every line 
 was accurately justified. He might have made 
 a sad hash, I daresay, if he had been working 
 from manuscript, but with his printe copy before 
 him he was hard to beat, whether for time or 
 accuracy. The superintendent of the institution 
 told me that they had occasional desertions from 
 the school, and he gave me the history of one 
 case where a mere child found his way back to 
 the paternal wigwam in one of the reserves, three 
 hundred miles away. A percentage of the best 
 educated and the cleverest go back to savagery, but 
 on the whole the government has a right to be 
 satisfied with its citizen factory, and turns out a 
 useful article year by year. 
 
 Here and there in the wilder parts of the ccmtry 
 you meet a wandering party slinking gipsy-like 
 along wrapped in dirty blankets, and with faces 
 smeared with vermilion, but for the most part they 
 live on the land allotted to them, and are 
 sufficiently quiet and depressed. Whilst I was in 
 their neighbourhood the Blackfeet rose up against 
 
176 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 the resident missionary, who bolted for his life, 
 but their wrath soon simmered down again, and 
 the presence of a few mounted policemen sufficed 
 to restore order. 
 
 On the topmost plateau of the Rocky Mountains 
 the attention of the traveller by the Canadian 
 Pacific line, is called to a singular natural 
 phenomenon, the inward significance of which he 
 would certainly never discover for himself. A 
 little stream has its beginning there — a very trivial 
 little stream indeed, which a baby with a sand 
 spade could block in the work of a few minutes. 
 When this tiny rivulet has run but a brief distance 
 it divides, and one half goes towards the Pacific 
 and the other half towards the Atlantic. This 
 insignificant runnel is in fact the well-head of two 
 great rivers, and its waters are the connecting 
 link between two great oceans, and really make 
 an island of the continent which lies southward of 
 their course. The northernmost railway line 
 which belts the continent, starts at the east not 
 far from the mouth of one of these great streams, 
 and ends its course in the west, not far from the 
 mouth of the other. Nature made the first link 
 between the two great wastes of water thousands 
 of years ago. Man made the second in defiance 
 of Nature's sternest mood, within the lifetime of 
 any boy who to-day is being legally bound appren- 
 tice. Spaces which were nameless in the white 
 
A Belt of Enterprise 
 
 177 
 
 man's tongue a score of years ago are centres of 
 intelligence and commerce ; and a belt of human 
 enterprise, which grows stronger and broader with 
 each succeeding year, is drawn across a space 
 which fills little less than one-sixth of the girth of 
 the globe. 
 
 So huge and so new in development is the 
 Dominion of Canada. 
 
 K 
 
THE ANTIPODEANS. 
 
 It is six years since the following chapters were 
 first presented to the public in the pages of the 
 Contemporary Review. They aroused a rather 
 astonishing charivari at the time, and a host of 
 critics arose to denounce the ignorance and pre- 
 judice of the writer. The Earl of Jersey, who 
 was then Governor of New South Wales, took up 
 the cudgels in behalf of Australia at large, and 
 was warmly indignant at the attack made on its 
 financial condition. Australians were bidden not 
 to mind the insolent stingings of " a mosquito of 
 the press." A few months later the crash, which 
 some unprejudiced watchers knew to be impending, 
 came, and Victorian credit was, for the hour, 
 destroyed. I have never been able to persuade 
 myself that it was criminal to see the truth before- 
 hand, or any breach of public duty to proclaim it. 
 It was natural that those whom the truth affected 
 adversely should feel annoyed, and I was nevv^i 
 
Prefatory 
 
 179 
 
 careful to shield myself from any attack they 
 might have made upon me. 
 
 That melancholy episode in colonial history is 
 over. The majestic resources of the country have 
 enabled the Victorians already to struggle half- 
 way out of the difficulties into which they had 
 been betrayed, and there is no visible reason why 
 they should not henceforth enjoy as complete a 
 prosperity, and as sound a credit, as is owned by 
 any people in the world. 
 
 But whilst in these pages the charge of financial 
 unsoundness was made, and before the mournful 
 verification of the charge befell, it would have been 
 hard to find a better-abused person than myself, 
 or one more freely threatened. A Melbourne daily 
 (not one of the big and dignified journals of the 
 city) reminded me, in view of an anticipated 
 renewal of my visit, that road-metal was cheap and 
 plentiful. The Sydney Bulletin— ^XioX. a respectable 
 or dignified publication at any time — gave room to 
 a drawing of a man who was groping on the pave- 
 ment at his feet. Underneath was a legend to 
 this effect : — " What ir this citizen doing ? He 
 has heard that Mr. Christie Murray is coming 
 back, and he is looking for a brick." 
 
 It is not my purpose in republishing these 
 papers to provoke a renewal of the hostility which 
 thus expressed itself. I hope partly to establish 
 the fact that the opinions expressed were in the 
 
 N 2 
 
 
 !i 
 
 I. 
 
i8o 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 1; 
 
 
 main sound. I hope partly to convince even some 
 old enemies that those opinions were in the main 
 favourable to themselves, and to the country in 
 which they take so great a pride. I hope to 
 persuade them partly to an admission of the 
 fact that the views expressed were obscured by 
 no ill-feeling. And lastly, I desire to emphasize 
 such changes as have taken place in so brief a 
 space of time as has elapsed between the autumn 
 of 1891 and now. 
 
 The one object here below which seems to me 
 best worth an Englishman's pursuit is the consoli- 
 dation of the race. The man of British blood, who 
 wilfully and with his eyes open to the consequence 
 of his act, does anyth'*" to hinder this, to bar its 
 consummation, or to ck its progress, is, to my 
 mind, guilty of a crime. The more closely people 
 are tied together by relationship and affection, the 
 more freely they have a right to the expression 
 of plain and sometimes unpalatable truth. It is 
 possible to abuse this privilege as it is possible to 
 abuse anything, but it is only the abuse, and not 
 the employment of it, which should be resented. 
 
 Some of the sketches in these pages are out ot 
 date already. Sir Henry Parkes, for instance, is 
 asleep after scores of years of hard fighting with 
 the world. Possibly even some of his old-time 
 enemies may care again to get a glimpse of his 
 figure. It seemed to me to have a certain solidity 
 
Prefatory 
 
 i8i 
 
 and even majesty, and any born Australian has a 
 ri^'ht to be proud, that in his native country, a man 
 of Sir Henry's beginninj^'s should have risen to 
 
 :h a ph 
 
 )finfli 
 
 he filled f( 
 
 thirty 
 
 leci tor some 
 
 years. In the Enf,dand of his own day he could 
 have been little better than a sufferinj^' malcontent, 
 whilst in the freer atmosphere of the colonies he 
 had ample opportunity for the justification of his 
 manhood and his statecraft. 
 
 With slifj^ht additions, and very much slighter 
 omissions, the impressions of the Antipodean 
 colonies are printed here as they originally 
 appeared. One omission has a claim for special 
 mention. I was misled by an error in Mr. 
 Heyter's generally excellent and accurate *' Year 
 Book," into an exaggerated estimate of the amount 
 of spirituous liquors consumed in Australia. I 
 was very angrily attacked for a mistake which was 
 not originally mine. I took the figures as I found 
 them in a statistical work, sanctioned by the 
 government of Victoria, and issued by the govern- 
 ment press there. Mulholland's monumental 
 book of statistics helped me to correct the blunder, 
 which was withdrawn with apologies almost as 
 soon as it was made, 
 
i 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It is many years since I saw a sight which so 
 pricked and stirred my blood as the final episod 
 of the procession on Eight Hours' Day in 
 Melbourne. The day was wintry and dismal. 
 Early rains had threatened the dispersal of the 
 patient crowds which lined the roads, the pave- 
 ments were muddy, and the sky was lowering. 
 The march of the trades bodies did little to dispel 
 the gloom of the day for the one onlooker concern- 
 ing whose sentiments I am authorized to speak. 
 The vast crowd gave each trade a reception as it 
 passed, and sometimes the marcb'irs paused below 
 the treasury windows and cheered the governor. 
 There was plenty of noise and enthusiasm, but I 
 was unawakened until the tail-end of the procession 
 came. Two brakes drew up below the governor's 
 standing-place, and some score of grey-bearded 
 men rose up in these vehicles and waved their 
 hats with vigour, whilst the whole orderly mob 
 roared applause at them, and Lord Hopetoun 
 
The Pioneers 
 
 1R3 
 
 himself clnpped his hands Uko a pleased boy at 
 the theatre. All the men in the two brakes were 
 elderly and j^rizzled, but, so far as I could see, 
 they were all stalwart and able-bodied, and the 
 faces of a ^ood many were bronzed with years of 
 sun and wind. Over the leading vehicle was 
 suspended a strip of white cloth, and on this was 
 painted the words, The Pioneers. These men 
 were the makers of Victoria, the fathers of the 
 proud and populous city which lay ^vide-spread 
 about us. There is no need to be eloquent about 
 Melbourne. Many people have sun}^ its praises 
 already. But it I3 one of the marts of the world ; 
 it has a y^opulation of over half a million ; it has 
 its churches, its chapels, its synagogues, its 
 theatres, its hotels ; it is as well furnished in most 
 respects as any other city of its size ; and these 
 grey men, yet staunch in body, bronzed and 
 bright-eyed, were among the beginners of it. 
 
 When I first visited Meiboiirne I was introduced 
 to a gentleman who, between the present site of 
 the Roman Catholic cathedral and the present site 
 of the town hall, had been *' bushed" for a whole 
 day ; lost in the virgin forest. I knew already 
 how young the city was, how strangely rapid its 
 growth had been ; but I had not realized what I 
 knew, and this elderly stranger's bodily presence 
 made my thought concrete. That beautifully 
 appropriate and dramatic finish to the trades' 
 
 I 
 
184 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 procession struck the same chord of splendid 
 wonder, but with a fuller sound. 
 
 Apart from the miraculous rapidity of its growth, 
 the city is commonplace enough in itself, but the 
 Victorian, quite justifiably, refuses to think so. 
 Men come back from London, and Paris, and 
 Vienna, and New York, and think Melbourne the 
 finer for the contrast. In reality it is very far 
 from being so ; but it is useless to reason with 
 patriotism and its affections. The men of Victoria 
 run devotion to their soil to an extreme. I was 
 told an exquisite story, for the truth of which I 
 had a solemn voucher, though it carries its internal 
 evidences of veracity, and needs no bolstering 
 from without. An Australian-born — he came, of 
 course, from that Gascony of the Antipodes which 
 has Melbourne for its capital — visited the home 
 country. An old friend of his father's was his 
 cicerone in London, and took him, amongst other 
 places, to Westminster Abbey. And — '* There, 
 my young friend," said the Englishman, when 
 they had explored the noble old building, " you 
 have nothing like that in Australia." " My word," 
 said the colonial export, ''no fear! You should 
 just see the Scotch Church at Ballarat ! " 
 
 The tale is typical. I would tell it, in the hope 
 that he would find it an open sesame to many 
 things, to any fair-minded observant man who was 
 going out to Victoria. It is a little outrageous to 
 
The Australian's Dinner Table 185 
 
 the stranger, but in it the general public sentiment 
 is drawn in grand outlines, magnified many times, 
 but not in the least caricatured. The patriotic 
 prejudice goes everywhere. It lives at the very 
 roots of life. Truthful men will tell you that 
 London is vilely supplied with cabs in comparison 
 with Melbourne. They believe it. They will tell 
 you that the flavours of English meats, game 
 fishes, fruits, and vegetables, are vastly inferior to 
 those they know at home. And they believe it. 
 To the unprejudiced observer, Melbourne is the 
 worst-cabbed city in the world, or amongst the 
 worst. A gourmet would find a residence in 
 Australia a purgatory. For my own part, I have 
 learned in a variety of rough schools at v/hatsoever 
 meat I sit therewith to be content. In matters of 
 gourmandise I am contented wi' little an' cantie 
 wi' mair. But, shade of Savarin ! how I relish 
 my morning sole after two years' banishment from 
 that delicious creature ! How I reverence my 
 sirloin ! How I savour my saddle of mutton ! 
 What a delightful thing I now know an English 
 strawberry to be ! But to the New South Welsh- 
 man my doctrine is a stumbling-block, and to the 
 Victorian it is foolishness. Mr. Sala preached it 
 years ago, and the connoisseurs of the Great 
 Britain of the South have never forgiven him. 
 
 Another patriotic delusion is the glorious 
 climate. The plain fact is, that in Melbourne 
 
 ! i 
 
 f 
 
i86 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 h 
 
 t 
 
 $■•': 
 
 there is no such thing as a climace. They take 
 their weather in laminae, set on end. You walk 
 from the tropics to the pole in five minutes. A 
 meteorological astonishment lies in wait at every 
 street-corner. It blows hot, it blows cold, it 
 scorches, it freezes, it rains, it shines, and all 
 within the compass of an hour. Yet these 
 wonderful Australians love their weather. Other 
 people would endure it. They brag about it. 
 I think they must be the happiest people in the 
 world. 
 
 By the way, I must qualify, before I forget to 
 do so, the judgment expressed above with respect 
 to the Australian table. I tasted in Adelaide a 
 favourable specimen of the wild turkey, and I 
 believe it to be the noblest of game-birds. Its 
 flavour is exquisite, and you may carve at that 
 bounteous breast for quite a little army of diners. 
 And remembering one friendly feast puts me in 
 mind of many. Is there anywhere else on the 
 surface of our planet a hospitality so generous, so 
 exuberant, so free and boundless as that extended 
 to the stranger in Australia ? If there be, I have 
 not known it. They meet you with so complete 
 a welcome. They envelop you with kindness. 
 There is no arrihe pensee in their cordiality, no 
 touch lacking in sincerity. This is a character- 
 istic of the country. The native-born Australian 
 differs in many respects from the original stock, 
 
Hospitality 
 
 187 
 
 but in this particular he remains unchanged. 
 You present a letter of introduction, and it makes 
 you the immediate friend of its recipient. He 
 spares no pains to learn what you desire, and 
 then his whole aim and business in life for the 
 moment is to fulfil your wishes. Your host will 
 probably be less polished than an Englishman 
 living in a like house and boasting an equal 
 income, but his bonhomie is unsurpassable. I 
 used to think there was nothing like an English 
 welcome. Australia has killed that bit of English 
 prejudice. 
 
 The very sincerity of heart in which your host 
 stands before you, is the means whereby the 
 traveller first learns to be dissatisfied. He has 
 come out with his own judgment of things raying 
 from him in all directions — a very porcupine of 
 preconception. He is not merely persuaded that 
 the colonies are loyal, but he is certain that they 
 are loyal after his own conceptions of loyalty. So 
 long as he encounters only the old folks he will 
 find his preconceptions flattered, but he will not 
 go long before he meets a member of the A.N. A. 
 (which letters being interpreted signify the 
 Australian Natives' Association), and then he 
 must be prepared to be hurt and astonished 
 beyond measure. In a while, if he be a man of 
 sense, he will begin to see how natural the posi- 
 tion of the Australian native is, and then he will 
 
 
i88 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 cease to be astonished, though he may still be 
 grieved. The association is large and powerful. 
 It includes within its ranks a great number of the 
 most capable of the rising men, and of the 
 younger already risen. Speaking broadly, its 
 aspiration is for a separate national life. It will 
 "cut the painter" — that is the phrase — which 
 ties it to the old ship of state. In its ranks are 
 many who love the old country, and reverence its 
 history and traditions, and these an Englishman 
 naturally regards with the readier excuse for what 
 he must esteem an error. But there are others, 
 and the melancholy fact, too long concealed or 
 slighted, is, that they are many and growing in 
 numbers, who hate England and all things 
 English. There are men, not stigmatized as 
 dullards or as fools, who publicly oppose the 
 teaching of English history in the State schools. 
 The feeling against England is not a fantastical 
 crank, it is a movement growing yearly in 
 strength. I have seen men keeping their seats in 
 serious protesting silence when the health of the 
 Queen has been drunk at public banquets, and 
 have found in private converse that hundreds 
 approve their action, but io not foJow it because 
 they fear to be thought singular. The out-and- 
 out journalistic supporters of this body vilify and 
 traduce the Mother Country as a trade. They 
 belittle its history and besmirch its rulers. 
 
Recent Ignorance at Home 
 
 189 
 
 Loyal Australians pooh-pooh these prints, and 
 entreat the stranger within their gates to believe 
 that they are despised and without influence. 
 The stranger has only to travel to learn better 
 than this. The strongest current of Australian 
 feeling is setting with a tide of growing power 
 against the mother country. 
 
 [I find my first annotation necessary here. The 
 reader, who has patience with me for another 
 paragraph, will read an allusion to our *' shameful 
 and criminal ignorance of our colonies." In these 
 swift-rolling days it is sometimes difficult to re- 
 member what complexion was worn by the week 
 before last. It seems scarcely believable now that 
 half a dozen years ago these words should have 
 been true. It seems scarcely believable that a 
 sane man should have declared, as I did, with all 
 sincerity and truth, that " the strongest current 
 of Australian feeling " was ** setting with a tide 
 of growing power against the mother country." 
 It is not easy to credit the fact, that ten years ago 
 there was not a single newspaper in Great Britain 
 which fouiiu the Australian colonies worth one 
 paragraph per weak. It is not easy to believe that 
 even when the body of this article was written, in 
 1891, the Daily Chronicle was the only journal in 
 the country which gave us any regular information 
 about Australasian affairs, or that the news afforded 
 by that sole enterprising organ was less full and 
 
 I 
 
igo 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I 
 
 j 
 
 systematic than is now offered by any well-edited 
 daily in the kingdom. The colonies have been 
 invariably and naturally sensitive to home feeling, 
 and the change in our temperature has brought 
 about a change in theirs. The jubilee demonstra- 
 tions, though their sentimental value may turn out 
 to have been over-estimated, have exercised a very 
 potent force. They might have exercised a force 
 still greater if a most crass officialdom had rot 
 provided so frigid a greeting for the Australian 
 contingent, which it was the patent duty of 
 England to receive with the warmest wel- 
 come.] 
 
 Our ignorance of our great dependencies is 
 shameful and criminal. Our colonial governors, 
 from some of whom we suppose ourselves to learn 
 something, and many of whom have been men of 
 especial capacity, do not come in contact with the 
 crowd. Lord Carrington saw more of the people 
 amongst whom he lived than any governor before 
 him, and I had from him a single story of a man 
 of the country who expressed in drunken Saxon 
 his opinion of existing forms of government, but 
 the tale was jocularly told, and was not supposed 
 to have any importance. It could have had nc 
 importance to one who found it a single instance, 
 as a governor would be likely to do. The 
 governor sees smooth things. All sorts of people 
 (except the working sort) frequent his receptions — 
 
Loyalty to England 
 
 191 
 
 id 
 
 iG 
 '» 
 
 the fashionable classes, who are far more loyal to 
 England for the most part than the English 
 themselves; their fringe; and then the wealthier 
 of the tradespeople. It is proven every day that 
 a democracy is the happiest hunting-ground for a 
 man with a title. The very rarity of the distinc- 
 tion makes it more precious to those who value it, 
 and the titled governor of one of our great 
 colonies occupies a position which is vastly higher 
 in public esteem than that of any of his fellow- 
 noblemen at home. He is the local fount of 
 honour. To sit at his table, and to be on terms 
 of friendship with him, is to gratify the highest 
 social ambition. He is the direct representative 
 of the Crown, and the people who desire to as- 
 sociate with him must not have views which are 
 inimical to existing forms of government, or if 
 they hold them, must keep them carefully con- 
 cealed. The governor responds to the toast of 
 his own health, and talks of those ties which bind 
 and must bind the mother country and her 
 children. His hearers are at one v/ith him and 
 cheer him with hearty vigour. Absence from the 
 dear old land has made their hearts grow fonder. 
 Their loyalty is perfervid. Everybody goes home 
 in a sentimental glow, and the native-born work- 
 man reads his Sydney Bulletin over a long-sleever, 
 and execrates the name of the country which bore 
 his father and mother. 
 
 . I 
 
 ii 
 
192 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 The journal just named is very capably written 
 and edited. The brightest Australian verse and 
 the best Australian stories find their way into its 
 columns. Its illustrations are sometimes brilliant, 
 though the high standard is not always maintained. 
 And having thus spoken an honest mind in its 
 favour, I leave myself at liberty to say that it is 
 probably the wrongest-headed and most mis- 
 chievous journal in the world. People try to 
 treat it as a neglectable quantity when they dis- 
 agree with it. But I have seen as much of the 
 surface of the country, and as much of its people 
 as most men, and I have found the pestilent print 
 everywhere, and everywhere have found it in- 
 fluential. For some time past now it has been 
 telling blood-curdling stories of the iniquities of 
 prison rule in Tasmania, with the tacit conclusion 
 that nothing but the power of the working classes 
 makes a repetition of those atrocities impossible. 
 It compares the Russian Government with the 
 English, and compares it favourably. It loses no 
 opportunity of degrading all things English as 
 English. England and the Englishman are as 
 red rags to its bull-headed rage. Of course, its 
 writers are not all sincere, though doubtless some 
 of them are. Vast numbers of people who do not 
 agree with it read it for its stage and social gossip ; 
 but there is a class of working-men who take its 
 absurdities for gospel, and it is one of the factors 
 
The Eve-glasskd Idiot 
 
 193 
 
 )tht 
 
 motncr coun- 
 uninstructod 
 
 int 
 in- 
 en 
 of 
 on 
 es 
 le. 
 he 
 no 
 as 
 as 
 its 
 e 
 ot 
 
 p; 
 
 its 
 rs 
 
 in the growing contempt for the 
 try which is noticeable amoiij^'s 
 AustraHans. 
 
 [The pages of the Bulletin for the present year 
 will show anyone who cares to study them, how 
 far the popular enthusiasms of the jubilee year 
 have modified the rancour of its feeling towards 
 Great Britain. It is idle to pooh-pooh its 
 influence, or to pretend that a populace genuinely 
 loyal (as loyal Englishmen and Australians alike 
 construe the word), would support a publication 
 conducted on its lines.] 
 
 Another and a more potent factor is supplied by 
 Englishmen themselves. I have never in my life 
 known anything more offensively insolent than the 
 patronizing tolerance which I have seen a tra- 
 velled Cockney extend to a man of the colonies 
 who was worth a thousand of him. I have seen 
 an Englishman unintentionally insult a host at 
 his own table, and set everybody on tenterhooks 
 by his blundering assumption that colonists are 
 necessarily inferior to home-bred people. Nobody 
 likes that sort of thing. Nobody finds himself 
 feeling more kindly to the race which sends out 
 that intolerable kind of man. ** Met a little girl 
 th' other day," says the eye-glassed idiot, ueaming 
 fatuously round the table. *' Little colonial girl, 
 don't you know. She'd read George Eliot. 
 Never was more surprised in my life." And this 
 
 
 
 (H 
 
194 
 
 The CocKNi'Y Columbus 
 
 to a company of Australian ladies and gentlemen 
 born and bred. 
 
 This kind of person has his influence, and on that 
 ground he is to be regretted. The student of men 
 and manners finds him as good as meat and drink ; 
 but we can't all be Touchstones^ and perhaps, on 
 the whole, it would be as well if he were buried. 
 
 Yet another and a still more potent factor is 
 found in the habit which prevails amongst English 
 fathers and guardians of sending out their incurable 
 failures to the colonies. ** You shall have one 
 more chance, sir, and it will be the last. You 
 shall have a hundred pounds and your passage to 
 Australia. This is the last I shall do for you. 
 Now go, and never let me see your face again." 
 So the whisky-bitten vaurien goes out to Melbourne, 
 has an attack of delirium tremens aboard ship, 
 finds his alcoholic allowance thenceforward stopped 
 by the doctor's orders, swaggers his brief hour on 
 the Block in Collins Street, hangs about the bars, 
 cursing the colonies and all men and things 
 colonial in a loud and masterful voice, to the great 
 and natural contentment of the people of the 
 country, pawns his belongings bit by bit, loafs in 
 search of the eleemosynary half-crown or sixpence, 
 and finally goes up country to be loathed and 
 despised as a tender-foot, and to swell the statistics 
 of insanity and disease. The most loyal and 
 friendly of Australians resent this importation. 
 
 
The Southernmost Lamp-Post 
 
 195 
 
 jat 
 he 
 in 
 
 m. 
 
 The uninstnictcd and untravcllcd native accepts 
 him as a pattern Enghshman, and the satirical 
 prints help out that conclusion in his mind. There 
 is no signboard on the Australian continent indi- 
 cating that rubbish of this sort may be shot there, 
 and the English tendency to throw its waste in 
 that direction has never been regarded in a friendly 
 spirit. We gave them our convicts for a start, and 
 now we gift them with our most dangerous 
 incapables. They do not like this, and will never 
 be got to like it. 
 
 At the Bluff in New Zealand people show the 
 stranger the southernmost gas-lamp in the world, 
 and it is the correct thing for the stranger to touch 
 this in order that he may tell of the fact thereafter. 
 The traveller may take the spirit of Sheridan's 
 excellent advice to his son, and say he has touched 
 it, but as a rule he takes the trouble to go down 
 and do it. I was escorted for this festal ceremony 
 by a resident, and leaning against that southern- 
 most lamp-post was a Scot in an abject state of 
 drunkenness, and, as Stevenson says of a similar 
 personage, '* radiating dirt and humbug." Nigh at 
 hand was another drunkard, sitting pipe in mouth 
 on an upturned petroleum tin, and the two were 
 conversing. * Et's a nice lettle coal'ny," said the 
 man against the lamp-post, ** a vera nice lettle 
 coal'ny indeed. But it wants inergy, and it wants 
 interprise, and it wants (hie) sobriety." He spoke 
 
 o 2 
 
 I 
 
j()6 
 
 TfiF. Cockney Columiuts 
 
 with a face of immeasurable f^'ravity, and I laii;^'hed 
 so that I forj^'ot to touch the lamp-post. 
 
 It is difficult to express the varyinpj scnti- 
 meiits of a community, but in many respects 
 the Australia of to-day resembles the America 
 which Charles Dickens saw on his first visit. 
 There is an eaji^er desire to ascertain the opinion of 
 the passinpj En{j;lish visitor, of however little worth 
 it may be, and this exists, inexplicably enough, 
 even amongr^t the people who despise the visitor, 
 and the land from which he comes. They ask for 
 candour, but they are anj^^ry if you do not praise. 
 A f^ood many of them, whilst just as eager for 
 judgment as the rest, resent praise as patronage. 
 It is certain that in a very little while this raw 
 sensitiveness will die away, and leave a feeling of 
 national security, which will not need to be shored 
 up by the prop of every wanderer's opinion. At 
 present the curiosity for the traveller's judgment 
 is a little embarrassing, and more than once I was 
 reminded of a drawing of Du Maurier's in Punch, 
 where a big man standing over a little one declares, 
 " If any man told me that wasn't a Titian I'd 
 knock him down, and I want your candid 
 opinion." 
 
 There is a stage of national hobbledehoyhood, and 
 Australia has not yet grown out of it. The working 
 man is surly to the man who is better dressed than 
 himself, not because he is naturally a surly fellow, 
 
AuSTUAIJA's Rl'LKU 
 
 ^')7 
 
 Ind 
 jan 
 
 but because he has not yet found a less repellent 
 fashion of asserting; independence. I shall come 
 to the consideration of the {;reat colonial labour 
 question by-and-by, but the attitude of the work- 
 man is curiously consonant with the momentary 
 characteristics of the land he lives in. Labour is 
 growing towards such a manhood of freedom as 
 has never been achieved elsewhere. It, too, has 
 reached the hobbledehoy height, and has all the 
 signs which mark that elevation, the brave 
 aspirations, the splendid unformed hopes, and the 
 touchy irascibility. 
 
 Australia is governed by the working-man. The 
 working-man has got hold of a good thing in 
 Australia, and he is resolute to keep it, and, if he 
 can, to make it better. He has got it into his 
 head that the one thing he has to be afraid of is 
 the influx of population. He takes no count of the 
 fact that all the wisest men of the country admit a 
 crying need of people — that labour is everywhere 
 wanted for the development of giant resources. 
 His loaf is his, and he is quite righteously deter- 
 mined that no man shall take it from him. He is 
 not in the least degree determined that he shall 
 not take away another man's loaf, but that is a 
 different question. England is the one country in 
 the world which could, under existing circum- 
 stances, or under circumstances easily conceivable, 
 seek to send any appreciable number of new 
 
 
 
 ill 
 
 f! 
 
 il 
 
1 98 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 
 people into the colony. Therefore England is 
 to be feared, and any scheme which may be 
 promulgated in favour of further emigration is to 
 be resisted to the uttermost. 
 
 No public man who sets the lightest value upon 
 his position dares discuss this question. The 
 feeling is too deep-rooted, and its manifestations 
 are too passionate. The scheme propounded by 
 " General " Booth afforded an opportunity for a 
 striking manifestation of this fact. Long before 
 the nature of the scheme was known or guessed at, 
 before any of the safeguards surrounding it were 
 hinted, it was denounced from one end of the 
 country to the other. It is not my present business 
 to express any opinion as to the feasibility of the 
 plan. The point is that the mere mention of it 
 was enough to excite an intense and spontaneous 
 opposition. Australia will never, except under 
 compulsion, allow any large body of Englishmen 
 to enter into possession of any portion of her 
 territories. The ports for emigration on a large 
 scale are finally and definitely closed. 
 
 The population of Australia is 3,326,000. 
 These people have an area of 3,055,000 square 
 miles from which to draw the necessaries and 
 luxuries of life. Suppose it be allowed that one- 
 half the entire country is not and will not be 
 habitable by man. Australians themselves would 
 resent this estimate as being shamelessly 
 
Who are the Australians? 
 
 199 
 
 exaggerated, but the supposition is, so far as the 
 argument goes, in their favour. Take away that 
 imagined useless half, and every man, woman, and 
 child in the community would still have very nearly 
 half a square mile of land if the country were 
 equally divided. It is evident that the populace is 
 unequal to the proper exploitation of the continent. 
 Let them multiply as the human race never 
 multiplied before, and they must remain unequal 
 to the task before them for many centuries. 
 
 The cry raised is that of " Australia for the 
 Australians." Well, who are the Australians ? 
 Are they the men of the old British stock who 
 made the country what it is, or the men who had 
 the luck to be born to the inheritance of a 
 splendid position, for which they have not toiled ? 
 It is the honest, simple truth, and no man ought 
 to be angry at the statement of it — though many 
 will be — that Australia was built up by British 
 enterprise and British money. It is a British 
 possession still ; and without British protection, 
 British gold, and the trade which exists between it 
 and Britain, would be in a bad way. Looked at 
 dispassionately, the cry of " Australia for the 
 Australians" seems hardly reasonable. The 
 mother country has a right to something of a 
 share in the bargain. 
 
 [All this remains as true as it wa:: when it was 
 written, but at that time the Australian position 
 
 ^i 
 
 i4. 
 
200 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 was strenuously defended in many quarters where 
 it would be avoided or abandoned now. There is 
 no truth more unescapable than this, — that the 
 wealth of a country is its population. The United 
 States of America have found that in a generation 
 or two the mixed populations of most civilized 
 countries can be fused into homogeneity. The 
 Australians have no such problem as this to 
 encounter, and the prejudice which leads a section 
 of them to oppose the free influx of men of 
 their own race and language is a thing to be 
 fought with the whole armoury of reason.] 
 
 The argument would be infinitely less strong if 
 the Australians were using Australia. But they 
 are not. The vast Melbourne of which Victoria is 
 so proud holds half the population of the colony, 
 and produces little or nothing. Melbourne is. the 
 city of brass-plates. There are more brass-plates 
 to the acre in the thoroughfares which diverge 
 from Collins Street than can be found in any 
 other city in the world. The brass-plate, as all 
 the world knows, is the badge of the non -producer 
 — the parasite, middleman, agent, call him what 
 you will — the man who wears a tall hat and a 
 black coat, and who lives in a villa, and lives on 
 and by the produce of the labour of others. As 
 society is constituted he is an essential when he 
 exists in reasonable numbers. In Melbourne his 
 numbers are out of reason ; for almost every 
 
 i 
 
Over-centralization 
 
 201 
 
 producer in Victoria there is a non-producer in 
 the capital. In the early days men went into the 
 country and set themselves to clear and till the 
 soil. That impulse of energy has died out, and a 
 new one has succeed'^jd it which is infinitely less 
 profitable and wholesome. The tendency is now 
 towards the city. The one source of permanent 
 wealth is neglected, and commerce and specula- 
 tion occupy the minds of men who fifty years ago 
 would have raised mu^-ton and wool, corn and 
 beef and wine. With every increase of growth in 
 the great city there is a cry for rural labour to 
 preserve the necessary balance of things. The 
 call is not listened to or answered, and Melbourne 
 is a hundred times more abnormal than London. 
 In Melbourne half a million do the business of 
 another half-million, and the country necessarily 
 suffers. No student of social economy can deny 
 the position, but the working-man will have it 
 otherwise. 
 
 He is the ruler of Australia, and the destinies of 
 a people pointed out by nature for greatness are 
 stunted in his hands. He is worth studying, 
 therefore, and to convince him might mean the 
 salvation of a continent. There, as here, the 
 workman is the victim of a prodigious blunder, a 
 mistake so obvious, that the onlooker wonders at 
 his blindness. A month or two ago he was in the 
 thick of a struggle, which was everywhere called a 
 
 J! 
 
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 1 « 
 
II 
 
 202 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 fight with capital. The real battle, however, was 
 never with capital for a moment. The one 
 engagement — and it raged hotly all along the line 
 for months — was between organized and un- 
 organized labour, between the unionist and the 
 non-unionist. Wherever a workman o.^ the union 
 declared against the conditions imposed by the 
 employer, a workman outside the union accepted 
 those conditions. The capitalist changed his staff 
 — that was all. The unionists were thrown 
 permanently out of employment in large numbers, 
 and when at last the strike fizzled out, their 
 leaders made a melancholy proclamation of 
 victory, which deceived nobody, not even them- 
 selves. The unionist clock in Australia has been 
 put back a year or two. It is probable that the 
 men will know with whom they have to fight 
 before they are again lured into conflict. 
 
 It is an old adage, that much will have more. 
 The Australian working-man is the best fed, the 
 best paid, and the best housed, and the least worked 
 of all the workers of the world. In the great towns 
 house-rent is dear, much dearer than it has a right 
 to be in so new and so wide a country. This is 
 a consequence of the rush for centralization, and 
 the ensuing neglect of the resources of the land. 
 Clothing is dear, as a consequence of protective 
 imposts. The Australian workman is a staunch 
 protectionist, being somehow persuaded that it is 
 
A Paradise of Cheapness 
 
 203 
 
 essential to his interests that he should suffer for 
 the benefit of his natural enemy, the middleman. 
 But except in the articles of house-rent and 
 clothing, he lives in a paradise of cheapness. 
 There are hundreds of restaurants in the second- 
 rate streets of colonial towns where you may see 
 painted up the legend — "All meals sixpence." 
 For that small sum a man may have a sufficiency 
 of hot or cold beef or mutton, bread, tea, and a 
 choice of vegetables. I can testify from personal 
 knowledge that the meals are well cooked, well 
 served, and plentiful. I have eaten a worse 
 luncheon in a London club or restaurant than I 
 found at one of these cheap eating-houses in 
 Syaney, and have paid five times the price, 
 although it has to be confessed that for five times 
 the price one can get a much finer meal. Whole- 
 somer or more plentiful fare no man need ask for. 
 Well, as I have said, much will have more. 
 The workman has got his whole programme filled 
 up. There is one vote for one man, and about 
 that fact almost the whole land is jubilant, though 
 the practical good of it may as yet be a problem. 
 The aspiration expressed in the old quatrain is 
 
 fulfilled— 
 
 " Ei^ht hours' work, 
 Eij^ht hours' play. 
 Eight hours' sleep. 
 And eight ' bob ' a day." 
 
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 The eight hours' movement has been crowned 
 

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 204 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 with success, and there is a magnificent annual 
 procession to commemorate it. It is announced 
 that a movement is to be set on foot for the 
 further reduction of the hours of labour. Six 
 hours a day is to be the limit of the future. The 
 comic journals, or, to speak by the card, the 
 journals which study to be comic, prophesy four 
 hours, two hours, and then no hours at all ; but 
 these celestial visions are out of the workman's 
 eyeshot. 
 
 Here and there an individual might be found 
 who, being entrusted with an irresponsible power, 
 would not desire to use it tyrannically. But, 
 since corporations are never so moral, so high 
 thinking, or so forbearing as individuals, corporate 
 bodies tend always and everywhere to the misuse 
 of their powers, and demand constantly to be held 
 in check by some influence outside their own. 
 The workman of the Antipodes is told so often 
 that all the power (as well as all the virtue and 
 the honour) lies in his hands, that he is disposed 
 to do strange things. A mere glance at the 
 history of two phases of the great strikes which 
 have lately shaken Australasian society may be of 
 service. 
 
 In New Zealand, where, under conditions 
 ' imilar to those of Victoria, New South Wales, 
 vnd Queensland, the labourer has grown to think 
 himself more worthy of his hire than anybody 
 
Demand for ** Neutrality " 
 
 205 
 
 else can possibly be, the fight between unionist and 
 non-unionist, with capital as an interested specta- 
 tor, began on a curiously trivial question. A firm 
 of printers and stationers in Christchurch were 
 ordered to reinstate or to discharge an employe. 
 The firm declined to obey the mandate of the 
 union, and an order went forth from the repre- 
 sentatives of the latter body to the effect that no 
 man belonging to any of its branches should 
 handle the goods of the obdurate company. This 
 was all very well in its way, until the order touched 
 the railway hands, who are in the employ of 
 the government. The union appealed to the 
 railway commissioners to " remain neutral," and 
 not to carry the goods of the offending firm. The 
 commissioners responded that they were the 
 servants of the public ; that it was no part of their 
 business to recognize the quarrel, but that it was 
 their business to carry for any and every citizen 
 who did not infringe their rules. The represen- 
 tatives of the union renewed their plea for 
 ** neutrality." Why would these domineering 
 commissioners take the side of capital and fight 
 in its interests ? The commissioners again 
 represented that they were the public carriersj 
 that they had no right to refuse to work for any 
 law-abiding citizen, that they had no place or 
 part in the quarrel, and intended simply 
 and merely to do the duty for which they 
 
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206 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 which arose on 
 once melancholy 
 the government 
 
 its power to crush the working- 
 
 were appointed. The din 
 this final declaration was at 
 and comic. Here was 
 lending all 
 
 man. Here was the old-class tyranny which 
 had created class hatreds in the old country. 
 This was what we were coming to after having 
 emancipated ourselves from the trammels of a 
 dead or effete civilization. Here was a govern- 
 ment so crassly wicked and purposely blind as to 
 profess neutrality, and yet refuse to fight our 
 battles. What did we — the working-men of New 
 Zealand — ask for? We asked that the govern- 
 ment should hold our enemy whilst we punched 
 him ; and whilst they traitorously proclaimed their 
 neutrality, they refused this simple request for 
 fair play. Therefore are we, the working-men of 
 New Zealand, naturally incensed, and at the next 
 election we will shake these worthless people out 
 office, and we will elect men like Fish, who know 
 what neutrality really means ! 
 
 The Honourable Mr. Fish was one of the 
 labourers' faithful. The palpable unfairness of 
 the commissioners wounded him profoundly. 
 
 The more recent strike of the Queensland 
 shearers has afforded opportunity for the display 
 of an equal faculty of logic and sweet reasonable- 
 ness. The shearers, at loggerheads with the 
 squatters, proposed to arrange their differences 
 
Methods of Warfare 
 
 207 
 
 by arson. They threatened openly to fire the 
 grass upon those vast northern plains where fire 
 is the one thing to be dreaded amongst many and 
 terrible enemies. They not only threatened, but 
 they carried their threats into effect in many 
 places ; and, but for the exceptional rains, which 
 mercifully interfered between them and their 
 purpose, they would have created scenes of 
 unexampled desolation. Here, again, a govern- 
 ment had no sense of fair play. Troops were sent 
 to watch the shearers' camps and to prevent active 
 hostilities. A natural thrill of horror ran through 
 the country at this autocratic and unwarrantable 
 act. Here at the Antipodes we have founded a 
 democracy, and in a democracy the government 
 motto should be non-intervention. The unionist 
 workman roared with indignation at countless 
 meetings. Why were not the shearers allowed to 
 settle the dispute in their own way ? Why were 
 the poor men to be threatened, intimidated, 
 bullied by armed force ? A continent cried 
 shame. When, in that eight hours' procession 
 to which I have already twice alluded, the 
 shearers' deputation rode by they were received 
 with rolling applause all along the line, and a 
 free people cheered the victims of oppression. 
 
 In the middle of all this madness it was good to 
 see that the greatest of the democratic journals 
 had the courage of honesty and spoke its mind 
 
 i 
 
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 U 
 
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208 
 
 Tiiii: Cockney Columuus 
 
 plainly. The Melbourne A^e is a very wealthy 
 and powerful journal, but it risked much, for the 
 moment at least, in opposinj^^ the mingled voices 
 of the populace and the Trades Hall. Excited 
 leaders of the people denounced it in unmeasured 
 epithet, and the crowd boo-hooed outside its 
 offices in Collins Street, but the writers of the 
 journal went their unmoved way, as British 
 journalists have a knack of doing. 
 
 The Australian press is amongst the best and 
 most notable in the world. The great journals uf 
 Melbourne and Sydney are models of newspaper 
 conduct, and are nowhere to be surpassed for 
 extent and variety of infrrmation, for enterprise, 
 liberality, and sound adhesion to principle, or for 
 excellence of sub-editorial arrangement, or for 
 force, justice, and picturesqueness in the expres- 
 sion of opinion. It is not only in the greater 
 centres that the press owns and displays these 
 admirable characteristics. Adelaide, Brisbane, 
 Dunedin, Christchurch, Auckland, Wellington, 
 have each journals of which no city in the world 
 need be ashamed ; and when the limitations 
 which surround them are taken into consideration 
 their excellence appears all the more remarkable 
 and praiseworthy. 
 
 It is not unnatural, perhaps, that a man trained 
 in English journalism, and having worked in every 
 grade of it, should esteem it highly. But, allow- 
 
 i^ i 
 
Australian Journalism 
 
 209 
 
 in^ all I can for personal prejudice, and striving 
 to look with an honest eye upon it and its rivals, I 
 am compelled to think it far and away the best in 
 the world. In Australia the highest traditions of 
 the parent press are preserved, and amongst 
 many strange and novel and perplexing signs, one 
 can but gratefully and hopefully recognize the 
 splendid enterprise and the lofty sense of public 
 obligation which guide the youngest school of 
 journalism. 
 
 In one respect Australian journalism surpasses 
 English. We have nothing to show which will at 
 all compare with the Australasian or the Leader \ 
 but it is easy to see that they and their con- 
 geners of other cities (which are all worthy of the 
 same high praise) owe their especial excellencies 
 to local conditions. These great weekly issues 
 give all the week's news, and all the striking 
 articles which have appeared in the daily journals 
 of which they are at once the growth and the 
 compendium. They do much more than this, for 
 they include whatever the gardener, the 
 agriculturist, the housewife, the lady of fashion, 
 the searcher of general literature, the chess- 
 player, the squatter can most desire to know. 
 They provide for all sorts of tastes and needs, and 
 between their first sheet and their last they render 
 to their readers what we in England buy half a 
 score of special journals to secure. The reason 
 
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 210 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 f(jr tliuir existence is simple. There is not 
 population enough to support the specialist as we 
 know him at home, and an eager and inquiring 
 people will be served. 
 
 The first unescapable belief of the English 
 traveller is that the Australian is a transplanted 
 Englishman pure and simple. A residence of 
 only a few months kills that opinion outright. 
 Many new characteristics present themselves. 
 To arrest one of the most noticeable — there is 
 perhaps no such pleasure-loving and pleasure- 
 seeking people in the world. I wish now that I 
 had thought of securing trustworthy statistics with 
 respect to the number of people who present 
 themselves on the colonial racecourses within the 
 limit of a year. It would be interesting to know 
 what proportion of the population is given over to 
 the breeding and training of horsetiesh and the 
 riding of races. The Melbourne people exult — 
 and not unjustifiably — in the Melbourne Cup, and 
 on the spectacle presented at its running. That 
 spectacle is quite unique so far as I know. 
 Neither the Derby nor the Grand Prix can rival 
 it for its view of packed humanity, and neither 
 can approach it for the decorous order of its 
 crowd. Is it Dean Swift who tells the story of 
 the creation of an English village ? I am not 
 quite sure, but I remember the genesis. Yo 
 must have a church to begin with. For a church 
 
The Love of Spokt 
 
 211 
 
 ts 
 
 of 
 
 you want a parson, and a parson must have a 
 clerk. From this established nucleus ^tows 
 everything. In Australia they begin with the 
 racecourse. This statement is not to be accepted 
 as a satiric fable but as a literal fact. Nearly two 
 years ago, travelling in the Blue Mountains, I 
 came — miles upon miles away from anywhere — 
 upon a huge great board erected in the bush. 
 The board bore this inscription : ** Projected road 
 to site of intended racecourse." There was not a 
 house visible or the sign of the beginning of a 
 house, but half an hour later, in apparent virgin 
 forest, I found another board nailed to a big 
 eucalypt. It had a painted legend on it, setting 
 forth that these eligible building sites were to be 
 let or sold. The solemn forest trees stood 
 everywhere, and the advertisement of the eligible 
 building sites was the only evidence of man's 
 presence. It was for the benefit of future dwellers 
 here that the road to the site of the ** intended 
 racecourse" had been ''projected." 
 
 Again, there are more theatres and more 
 theatre-goers to the population than can probably 
 be found elsewhere. The houses and the per- 
 formances are alike admirable. Like the 
 Americans, the Australians endure many per- 
 formances which would not be thought tolerable 
 in England, but they mount their productions 
 with great pomp and luxury. Whatever is best 
 
 p 2 
 
 it' 
 
 111 
 
 
11 
 
 M '. 
 
 
 The Cockney Columuus 
 
 ^;rcat 
 
 in London finds an early rendering in the 
 cities, and for serious work the general standard is 
 as high as in Paris or London. The Princess 
 Theatre in Melbourne has given renditions of 
 comic opera which are not unfairly to be com- 
 pared for dressing, inise-en-sdne^ and artistic 
 finish to those of the Savoy. The general taste is 
 for jollity, bright colour, cheerful music. Comedy 
 runs broader than it does at home, and some of 
 the most excellent artists have learned a touch or 
 two of buffoonery. The public taste condones it, 
 may even be said to relish it in preference to 
 finesse. The critics of the press are, in the main, 
 too favourable, but that is a stricture which 
 applies to modern criticism in general. There is 
 a desire to say smooth words everywhere, and to 
 keep things pleasant. 
 
 Outside the southernmost parts of Victoria 
 Australia has a climate, and the people can 
 rejoice in midnight picnics. In the glorious 
 southern moonlight one can read the small print 
 of a newspaper. The air is cool after the over- 
 whelming furnace of the day. The moonlight 
 jaunts and junketings are characteristic and 
 pleasant, and they afford an opportunity for the 
 British matron, who flourishes there as here — 
 heaven bless her ! — to air her sense of morals in 
 letters to the newspapers. 
 
 The creed of athleticism speaks its latest word 
 
An Athlete's Funeral 
 
 213 
 
 here. The burial of poor young Searle, the 
 champion sculler of the world, v/as a remarkable 
 and characteristic sight. That he was a grand 
 athlete and a good fellow seems indisputable, but 
 to the outsider the leeling excited by his early and 
 mournful death looked disproportionate. Every 
 newspaper, from the stately Argus down to the 
 smallest weekly organ of the village, sang his 
 dying song. He was praised and lamented out 
 of reason, even for a champion sculler. The 
 regret seemed exaggerated. At his funeral obse- 
 quies the streets were thronged, and thousands 
 followed in his train. It was mournful that a 
 young man should be struck down in the pride 
 and vigour of his strength. It is always mournful 
 that this should be so, but it is common, and the 
 passion of the lament provoked weariness. The 
 feeling was doubtless genuine, but it might pos- 
 sibly have had an object worthier of a nation's 
 mourning. 
 
 Another fine athlete and ^"od fellow is Frank 
 Slavin, the prize-fighter. I have acknowledged a 
 hundred times that I belong to a lost cause. My 
 sympathies are with the old exploded prize-ring. 
 Rightly or wronjly, I trace the growth of crimes 
 of violence to the abolition of that glorious insti- 
 tution. I want to see it back again, with its 
 rules cf fair play, and its contempt for pain, and 
 its excellent tuition in temper and forbearance, I 
 
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 1 1,1 3| 
 
 214 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 am an enthusiast, and, being almost alone, am 
 therefore the more enthusiastic. But I grew tired 
 of the wild exultation in Slavin's prowess, the mad 
 rejoicing over a victory, which meant less than it 
 would have done in the days which I am old 
 enough to remember. In Australia, better be an 
 athlete than almost anything, except, perhaps, a 
 millionaire. 
 
 Take the average native and ask him what he 
 knows of Marcus Clarke, of James Brunton 
 Stevens, of Harpur, or Kendal, or the original of 
 Browning's ** Waring." He will have no response 
 for you, but he will reel off for you the names of 
 the best bowler, the best bat, the champion for- 
 fv^ard, the cunningest of half-backs. The portraits 
 of football players are published by the dozen and 
 the score, and the native knows the names and 
 achievements of every man thus signalled out for 
 honour. In England the schoolboys would kivjw 
 all about these people, but in Australia the world 
 at large is interested. A bank-clerk, who has a 
 recognized position in a football team, enjoys pro- 
 fessional privileges which another man may not 
 claim. K-j athletic prowess reflects upon him in 
 his business. His manager allows him holidays 
 for his matches, and is considerate with him with 
 regard to hours for training. 
 
 From all this one would naturally argue the 
 existence of an especially athletic people, but the 
 
The Larrikin 
 
 215 
 
 conclusion is largely illusory. The worship of 
 athleticism breeds a professional or semi-profes- 
 sional class, but it is surprising to note how little 
 an effect it has upon tiie crowd of city people who 
 join in all the rites of adoration. The popularity 
 of the game of football is answerable for the 
 existence of the barracker, whose outward mani- 
 festations of the inward man are as disagreeable as 
 they well can be. The barracker is the man who 
 ?houts for his own party, and by yells of scorn and 
 expletives of execration seeks to daunt the side 
 aji^ainst which he has put his money or his partisan 
 aspirations. When he gathers in his thousands, 
 as he does at all matches of importance, he is 
 surprisingly objectionable. He is fluent in oath 
 and objurgation, cursing like an inmate of the pit. 
 This same man is orderly at a race meeting, 
 curiously enough, and takes his pleasure mildly 
 there. 
 
 Ibr !>ar. acker and the larrikin are akin. The 
 gam'i, ; P ris, grown up to early manhood, fed 
 on three n- a.t meals a day, supplied with plen- 
 t ;ons pocket-money, and allowed to rule a tribe 
 01 .dilors, won 1-1 be a larrikin. The New York 
 hoodlum is a larrikin, witii a difference. The 
 British rough is a larrikin, also with a difference. 
 The, Australian representative of the great black- 
 guard ^ribc is better dressed, better fed, and more 
 liberally provided in all respects than his compeers 
 
 ■ ■ ^ 
 
2t6 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 fi y 
 
 of other nations. He is the street bully, par ex- 
 cellencCy inspired to deeds of daring by unfailing 
 beef and beer. When Mr. Bumble heard of 
 Oliver Twist's resistance to the combined 
 authority of Mrs. Sowerberry and Charlotte and 
 Noah Claypole, he repudiated the idea of madness 
 which was offered as an explanation of the boy's 
 conduct. " It isn't madness, ma'am," said Mr. 
 Bumble, " it's meat." 
 
 There is the true expic .ion of the larrikin. 
 He is meat-fed, and is thereby inspired to ferocity. 
 Darwin, if I remember rightly, tells of a sheep 
 which was gradually accustomed to a flesh diet. 
 Its wool began to take the characteristics of hair, 
 and the mild beast grew savage. The forerunners 
 of the larrikin were never very sheep-like in all 
 probability, for if one could trace his pedigree, it 
 would, in most cr.ses be found that he is the 
 descendant of the true British cad. But he has 
 improved upon the ancestral pattern, and has 
 become a pest of formidable characteristics and 
 dimensions. The problem he presents has never 
 been faced, but it will have to be met in one way 
 or another before long. The stranger is forced to 
 the conclusion that magistrates are absurdly 
 lenient. I recall a case of some few months ago, 
 where a gang of well-fed ruffians assaulted an old 
 man in Finders Street, Melbourne. The attack 
 was shown to have been utterly unprovoked, and 
 
 ^J!flk 
 
In Parliament Assembled 
 
 217 
 
 the victim's injuries were serious. Three of the 
 most active participators in the sport were seized 
 by the poHcc, and were each sent to prison for six 
 weeks. A sentence of six months, with a brace of 
 sound floggings thrown in, would have gone nearer 
 to meet the exigencies of the case ; but there is a 
 widespread objection to the use of the cat, the 
 argument being that it is wrong to ** brutahze " 
 these refined young men by its appHcation. The 
 same spirit of false sentiment exists in England, 
 but in a less marked degree. 
 
 The democracy is determined to test itself com- 
 pletely, and female suffrage seems to be within 
 measurable distance. It is conceivable that it 
 may have a refining effect, and that it may act as 
 a corrective, though the experiment is full of risk. 
 The one man one vote principle, together with the 
 payment of members of the legislative chambers, 
 has not, so far, achieved the happiest conceivable 
 results. The parliament of New South Wales is 
 occasionally notorious as a bear garden. The 
 late Mr. Mac Ehlone (who once informed the 
 speaker that, when he encountered outside an 
 honourable gentleman to whom the ruling of the 
 chair compelled him to apologize, he would "spit 
 in his eye ") has a worthy successor in the person 
 of a Mr. Crick. Some time ago Mr. Crick was 
 expelled by an indignant house, wearied of his 
 prolonged indecencies of demeanour, but his con- 
 
 1 
 
 
 
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2l8 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 i;'- i' 
 
 r •■!;: 
 
 stituency sent him back untamed and rejoicing — 
 his mission being to prove that the ministry was 
 composed of thieves and liars. The miserable 
 charges dwindled into nothing ; but one at least 
 of his constituents is persuaded that the debates, 
 as printed in the newspapers, would lose so much 
 of sparkle if Mr. Crick were banished perma- 
 nently from the House, that the breakfast enjoy- 
 ment of the public more than atones for the shame 
 of his presence there. Women are notoriously 
 deficient in humour, and it is possible that, when 
 they come to vote, the reign of Mr. Crick and his 
 like will be over. 
 
 The best hope which lies before Australia at 
 this hour is in ihe federation of her several colo- 
 nies. Her determination to keep her population 
 European in its characteristics can hardly fail of 
 approval, but the immedialo work to her hand is 
 to consolidate her own possessions. The attempt 
 to find material for six separate parliaments in a 
 population of three and a half millions, has, it 
 must be confessed in all candour, succeeded 
 beyond reasonable expectations, but concentration 
 will be of service. There will be a laudable 
 rivalry between the colonies which will result in 
 the choice of the fittest men, and a combination 
 parliament will be a more useful and dignified 
 body than has yet been assembled within colonial 
 limits. But this is one of the smallest of the 
 
 iir! ? 
 
Tariff Disputes 
 
 219 
 
 results to be anticipated. The ridiculous tariff 
 restrictions which now harass individuals and 
 restrict commerce will pass away, and with them 
 the foolish hatreds which exist between rival 
 colonies. At present, if one desire to anger a 
 Victorian he has only to praise New South 
 Wales. Would he wound a Sydncyite under the 
 fifth rib, let him laud Melbourne. There is a 
 dispute pending about the proprietorship of the 
 Murray River. It runs between the two colonies, 
 and New South Wales claims it to the Victorian 
 bank. When it overflowed disastrously a couple 
 of years ago, an irate farmer on the Victorian 
 side is said to have written to Sir Henry Parkes, 
 bidding him come and pump the confounded river 
 off his land, and threatening to agitate for a duty 
 (per gallon) on imported New South Wales water. 
 The dispute is nothing less than childish ; but I 
 have the personal assurance of the leading states- 
 man of New South Wales that he is perfectly 
 satisfied with the position. It is probable that he 
 sees in the existing riparian rights a chance for a 
 concession which may win a concession in its 
 turn. The Victorians are eminently dissatisfied, 
 and would seem to have a right to be so. 
 
 Federation is on all counts to be desired, but 
 it has yet to be fought for, and will only be gained 
 with difficulty. Wise men long for it, but the 
 petty jealousies of rival States will hold it back 
 
 i 
 
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 if 
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V 
 
 i 
 
 220 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 li: 
 
 from its birth-time as long as delay is possible. 
 How infinitesimally small those jealousies are, 
 nothing short of a residence in the land could 
 teach anybody. Wisdom will have its way in the 
 long run, but the belief of the veteran leader of 
 New South Wales that he will live to see the 
 union of the Australian colonies is a dream. It is 
 a dream which only his political enemies will 
 grudge him. 
 
 The wide and varied resources of the country, 
 an 1 the ups and downs which men experience, 
 breed a careless courage which in some of its 
 manifestations is very fine. During my first stay 
 in Melbourne the waiter, who attended to my vv^ants 
 at Menzies' hotel, brought up, with something of a 
 dubious air, a scrap of blue paper, on which was 
 
 written, " Your old friend ." I instructed 
 
 him to show my visitor in, and a minute later 
 beheld the face of my old companion, a little 
 more grizzled and wrinkled than when I had last 
 seen it, but otherwise unchanged. When we 
 had shaken hands, and he was seated, I found 
 that he was dressed like a common labourer, and 
 in answer to my inquiries he told me bravely and 
 brightly, that he had fallen upon evil times. " I 
 should like a glass of champagne, old man," said 
 he when I asked him to refresh himself, " and a 
 cigar, if it will run to it. I'm strange to that sort 
 of thing for a year or two, and I should enjoy it." 
 
An Incident 
 
 
 We talked away, and he told me a history of success 
 and failure, and at last he explained the purpose of 
 his visit. He wished to hear the three lectures I 
 was advertised to deliver, and he had come to ask 
 me for a pass. " I shan't disgrace you, my boy," 
 he added. ** I've been down on my luck for a 
 couple of years past, but I'm not going to stay 
 where I am, and I've kept my dress clothes." 
 
 This, in its way, is a bit of unconscious courage, 
 and the incident helps one to a certain faith in the 
 spirit of the colonies. There is a gambling element 
 in it, no doubt, but the ever-present sense of hope 
 is a great and valuable thing. It finds such a 
 place in a new country as it can never have in an 
 old one. The English gentleman who in England 
 had fallen to be a mere hewer of wood and drawer 
 of water, woul^i never have ** kept his dress 
 clothes." He would have known that he was 
 permanently under the weather, but here the 
 British pluck had rational hope to feed it, and on 
 that rational hope survived, and even flourished. 
 
 And this leads me back to that question of the 
 self-confidence of the Australian-born colonial with 
 which I started. Hope looks so sure that what 
 Australia wants and has not it seems self-evident 
 in a little while she will have. And so she might 
 if she would go the right way for it, and instead of 
 packing three-fourths of her sparse inhabitants in 
 towns, would take the work which lies before her 
 
 M 'i 
 
 i 
 
 •\i 
 
 1 
 
 ■V 
 
 
 111 
 
 1 
 
 6 
 
 e 
 
222 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 nose and subdue the land and replenish it, and 
 instead of shutting the gates churlishly on rival 
 labour, would draw the stranger to her coasts, and 
 pour population on vast tracts of land which now 
 lie barren and unproductive, but only wait for the 
 hand of man to break into beauty and yield riches. 
 
 [Whilst I was in Australia an official document 
 of great interest was issued by the government of 
 one of the colonies — I think Victoria, but at this 
 distance of time I am not sure. Its purport was 
 to show how many male and female hands were 
 actually needed, and in demand, in rural districts, 
 and how many male and female unemployed were 
 then to be found in the chief centres of population. 
 The numbers coincided with a curious accuracy. 
 The returns were authoritatively stated to have 
 been compiled with every care, from the most 
 trustworthy resources, and it was proved that for 
 every idle person in the towns employment waited 
 in the country. There were not merely, it ap- 
 peared, so many vacancies which might be filled. 
 There was an actual and urgent need of labour in 
 rural places, but the habits of centralization had 
 unfitted people for rustic work, and the vacant 
 situations went begging unavailingly.] 
 
 In a hundred ways timidity would have been 
 criminal, and when one sees in what directions 
 courage and hope have led the way, and to what 
 effort they have prompted, a little over-confidence 
 
 ii i 
 
City Gardens 
 
 223 
 
 ft 
 
 )een 
 tions 
 
 /hat 
 lence 
 
 looks pardonable. Everywhere the colonists have 
 worked for the future. They have built railways 
 and roads which will not be fully used for many 
 and many a day. Their public buildings are made 
 to last, and are of dimensions nobler than present 
 needs can ask for. Generations to come will thank 
 the wisdom and generosity of the men of the last 
 fifty years. In certain places there is an admirable 
 spirit of emulation amongst private citizens who 
 have set themselves to beautify the towns in which 
 they live. This is very notable in Ballarat, where 
 it has grown to be an excellent fashion to present 
 the town with statues. Should that fashion con- 
 tinue, and shoulc the same spirit of local patriotism 
 prevail, Ballarat may grow to be the Athens of the 
 southern hemisphere. The phrase is a little large, 
 perhaps, but it is in the colonial fashion, and one 
 would willingly believe in the chances of its 
 ultimate justification. 
 
 The unborn generations will have to thank their 
 predecessors for some of the loveliest pleasaunces 
 in the world. Every town has its gardens, the 
 property of the citizens. Those of Brisbane and 
 Sydney and Adelaide are exquisitely beautiful. 
 But more beautiful than the grounds themselves is 
 the inscription which I found at the gates of the 
 loveliest of them all. I wish I had the ipsissima 
 verba of it, for it is characterized by an admirable 
 simplicity and directness. The sense of it is this : 
 
 \ 
 
 
 Ill 
 
 
 i'i I 
 
 il 
 
 *l, 
 
> i 
 
 !, jl 
 
 224 
 
 The Cockney ColuMijus 
 
 These gardens belong to the piibHc, and the 
 owners are asked to protect their own property. 
 
 There, to my mind, speaks the true voice of 
 democracy, and that inscription afforded me the 
 pleasantest spectacle I saw in the course of my 
 two years' pilgrimage through the Australias. 
 
CHAPTER II.» 
 
 ■I';! 
 
 The observant traveller is certain to find himself 
 struck by one fact before he has been long in 
 Australia. There are certain daring and adven- 
 turous things being done in the way of construc- 
 tive politics, and ideas which are only moot( d at 
 home are put into actual effect. Whether these 
 movements are for the final good, or whether it 
 will be seen wise in the long run to retrace some 
 
 * I am privately informed, on high authority, that my 
 estimate of the relative positions of Victoria and its 
 capital are curiously superficial and misleading. // Mel- 
 bourne, with a population amounting to very nearly one-half 
 of that of the whole colony, did only the business work of 
 that colony — z/, that is to say, forty-four non-producers 
 lived on the profits of the labours of fifty-six producers 
 — the thing might be regarded as abnormal, and even, 
 possibly, as mischievous from an economico-social point of 
 view. But Melbourne, so I am instructed, does the trade 
 of the Australian continent, and my contention therefore falls 
 to the ground. Let us see. In the year 1888— the latest of 
 which I have complete statistical information — the total 
 tonnage entered and cleared in Australian ports (not Austra- 
 lasian) amounted to 12,855,575. The total tonnage entered 
 and cleared in Victorian ports for the same year amounted 
 to about one-third of this — viz., 4,307,833. Whether there be 
 danger in over-centralization or no, here, as I have said 
 already, is the most abnormal instance of it in the world. 
 
 Q 
 
 li 
 
 91 ! 
 
 :- 
 
 
'Wl 
 
 "Z^ 
 
 The Cockney Columdus 
 
 n 
 
 t i 
 
 iffiN 
 
 V 
 
 of the steps already taken, only time can show. 
 But from the fact to the reason for it is a direct 
 and single step. A considerable number of the 
 men who hold ministerial appointments are so 
 young that, in the more crowded political spheres 
 at home, they would be occupying (at their most 
 advanced) positions which might more or less afford 
 an opportunity for the display of promise. There 
 nobody asks for probation. A clever and ambitious 
 young man does not dream of waiting through a 
 quarter of a century of public service, as he would 
 be compelled to do with us, before he can be re- 
 warded with the least responsible of ministerial 
 positions. Young brains are in demand, and the 
 dreams of young heads are translated into fact 
 more rapidly than those of old oneb. As in politics, 
 so in ' iw, medicine, education, and business ; lofty 
 and responsible positions are held by men much 
 younger than those who have found similar 
 promotion in the older countries. There is more 
 work to be done, and there are fewer competitors. 
 In most cases the positions lose nothing in r^ral 
 dignity or in usefulness ; but in politics there is an 
 ever-present fear of over-impetuosity, and there is 
 no safeguard against it. Within its own limits the 
 feeling of democracy is absolute. The veto of the 
 Crown has caused delay, and may cause delay 
 again ; but if the Australian voter sets his heart 
 upon a thing he will have it, and the desires of 
 
Climate 
 
 227 
 
 the 
 
 If the 
 
 lelay 
 
 \eart 
 
 )S of 
 
 the mother country will go for less than she 
 imagines. 
 
 How far climate and environment may ulti- 
 mately change the race no man can guess with any 
 degree of certitude. It is a question on which 
 Australians themselves are fond of speculating, and 
 on which they like to induce their visitors and 
 critics to speculate also. One of the contentions 
 favoured is that they are running to the Greek 
 type. The averags traveller will probably change 
 his conception of the Greek type very broadly 
 before he gives an] warmth of acceptance to this 
 claim. That they cannot long remain unchanged 
 by the influences which pour in upon them every 
 day seems certain. The average mean tempera- 
 ture of Melbourne itself is only slightly lower than 
 that of Marseilles. Sydney is five or six degrees 
 higher, Adelaide is higher yet, and part of Queens- 
 Lmd is of course distinctly tropical. In the 
 northernmost parts of Australia it is evidently im- 
 possible that any race of men can for many gener- 
 ations preserve the characteristics of Europn^n 
 peoples. In the towns the people show less 
 change than in the country. The country-bred 
 man has already shown the beginning of a new 
 racial type, a type less heavy and solid than the 
 English, but taller, slimmer, and more alert. These 
 men ride like centaurs, and drive at break-neck 
 speed where an Englir.h clKiriclccr would '"nfallibly 
 
 Q 2 
 
 tl 
 
 w 
 
if 
 
 ! it 
 
 I 
 
 I f! 
 
 228 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 get down and lead his horse?. They are born to the 
 companionship of the horse, and ride almost as 
 soon as they can walk. The riders of trained buck- 
 jumpers in the ** Wild West " shows excited 
 derision amongst men who do the real thing in 
 that direction constantly and in the way of business. 
 They are rather ugly horsemen to an English eye, 
 slouching and lanky, but they can take a horse 
 anywhere and can sit anything that has four legs. 
 No Briton, however expert, can hold a candle to 
 the native-born colonial in this respect. In their 
 races they strike one as riding rather cruelly, and 
 their distances are much heavier than ours. 
 Lindsay Gordon, whose dashing Australian verse 
 is hardly as well known in England as in the 
 colonies, was a courageous and successful steeple- 
 chase rider, and was praised for his faculty of 
 getting the "last ounce out of a horse," a phrase 
 which is less humane than its writer probably 
 thought it. They breed grand horseflesh, and it 
 is open to doubt if there is a better horse than 
 Carbine in the world. The noble beast is some- 
 thing of a fetich, and it was odd to see the skin of 
 a deceased racer exhibited in the Intercolonial Ex- 
 hibition recently held at Dunedin. I made the 
 passing acquaintance of one youth, who had 
 travelled thousands of miles to visit that show, and 
 who, of all the things he had seen there, could 
 recall, or thought it worth while to recall, nothing 
 
" Post and Rails" 
 
 229 
 
 to 
 
 of 
 irase 
 |ably 
 id it 
 ;han 
 »me- 
 |n of 
 Ex- 
 the 
 had 
 and 
 ;ould 
 fhing 
 
 but the skin of " old Musket." Side by side with 
 the leathery remnant of that equine hero nothing 
 was worthy of remembrance. 
 
 In all up-country places men drink tea. They 
 drink it all day long and at every meal, in 
 amazing quantities, and at a most unwholesome 
 strength. The method of prepartion is simple, and 
 one would think that if the aim were to brew a 
 concoction altogether poisonous it ought to be 
 effectual. On Sunday mornings the tea- maker 
 starts with a clean pot and a clean 1 }:ord. The 
 pot is hung over the fire with a sufficiency of 
 water in it for the day's brew, and when this 
 has boiled he pours into it enough of the fragrant 
 herb to produce a deep coffee coloured liquid. 
 On Monday, without removing yesterday's tea- 
 leaves, he repeats the process. On T ^day, 
 da capo, and on Wednesday, da capo, and so 
 on through the week. Towards the close of it, 
 the great pot is filled with an acrid mash of tea- 
 leaves, out of which the liquid is squeezed by 
 the pressure of a tin cup. By this time the " tea " 
 is of the colour of rusty iron, incredibly bitter 
 and disagreeable to the uneducated palate. The 
 native calls it "real good old post-and-rails " (the 
 simile being obviously drawn from a stiff and 
 dangerous jump), and regards it as having been 
 brought to the very pitch of perfection. Doctors 
 tell of cases resultinj^ from this abuse which 
 
 i\ 
 
 41 
 
 !.; 
 
230 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 i 3 
 
 N 
 
 n 
 
 ■!lr ii- 
 
 closely border, in their manifestations, on the 
 signs of delirium tremens. 
 
 Since the old days many changes have taken 
 place. It used to be the fashion for shepherds, 
 stock-riders, station hands, and others whose 
 business held them in the wilds for months at a 
 time, to draw their money at the expiry of a 
 definite time, and to make it their immediate 
 concern to "blow the c^eque down " in a single 
 orgie. Here is a true and characteristic sample, 
 given to me by Sir William Clarke. A shepherd 
 in the employ of Sir William's father drew a 
 cheque for some fifty pounds, and, *' humping his 
 bluey " (Australian for " shouldering his blanket"), 
 tramped down country, and put up at the nearest 
 shanty at which drink was obtainable. There, to 
 the surprise of his host, he called for nothing but 
 tea. It was known that he had a cheque with 
 him, and day by day it grew to seem more 
 wonderful that he made no attempt to spend it. 
 The man sat on a felled gum tree opposite the 
 shanty-door, smoked his pipe, sipped his tea, 
 and took stock of the few folks who dribbled 
 along the lonely highway. At last he found 
 what he waited for in the person of a passing 
 sundowner, whom he hailed. " Hillo, matey ! 
 Want a job ? " '' Yes. What is it ? " *' Drink 
 fair along o' me." " What's the wages ? " 
 " Dollar 
 
 Uci.^< 
 
 tt T> : 
 
 T', 
 
 >> 
 
 they 
 
Old-style Revels 
 
 231 
 
 tey 1 
 rink 
 
 down together, and drank until the change for 
 the cheque was exhausted. Then the shepherd 
 arose to go, but his new-found mate stopped 
 him by a question. " Want a job ? " " No. 
 What is it ? " " Drink fair along o' me. Can't 
 pay no wages; but we'll see my earnings out." 
 So proposed, so done. The shepherd and the 
 sundowner went their several ways when the 
 final bout was over. The late owner of the 
 cheque returned to his duties, and, after two or 
 three days of illness, revived from the effects of 
 his half-yearly outburst, and lived as a total 
 abstainer until the next pay-day came round. 
 
 The shepherd had been robbed aforetime by 
 dishonest landlords, and had felt he was not 
 getting his money's worth. In those old days, 
 which are not so very long ago, it was no rare 
 thing for a man to get through the earnings of 
 half a year in a day or two, " shouting " drinks for 
 all and sundry until he was told that his cheque 
 was ''through," and was ignominiously turned out 
 to make room for the next hero. There was a 
 man of New South Wales, who used to open his 
 half-yearly spell of madness by calling for half a 
 dozen of champagne and washing his feet in the 
 wine. The legend concerning him was that he 
 had somehow come to ruin through champagne, 
 and that he expressed in this fashion his contempt 
 for the beverage. It was no uncommon thing. 
 
 !M 
 
 
 m 
 
232 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 when men had drunk until they could drink no 
 more, to set up full bottles of liquor and pelt them 
 with empties. I heard a landlord of those old 
 days boasting that he had sent in one half-dozen 
 of champagne to one man's order four or five 
 times, had taken it away each time unopened, and 
 had each time charged for it as if it had been 
 consumed. A similar story came to me from a 
 magistrate, who received a complaint from a 
 digger to the effect that whilst he had got drunk 
 on whisky he was charged some fifty pounds for 
 champagne. The magistrate rode over to the 
 house in which the swindle was said to have been 
 perpetrated, and demanded a view of the land- 
 lord's invoices. The rascal could show no in- 
 voice at all for wine, and could only find on his 
 premises, three empty old mouldy champagne 
 bottles. 
 
 Here and there you may still find a conservative 
 who clings to the good old ways of the good old 
 times, but the race is practically extinct. The 
 gross sum to the credit of depositors in the 
 Anstralian Savings Bank is now nearly sixteen 
 millions sterling, and this shows a higher average 
 per head of population than exists in England. 
 The shearers, who used to work in a very happy- 
 go-lucky way, have now reduced their labour to a 
 system. Vast gangs begin the year's work in 
 Queensland, where the wool crop is ready earliest, 
 
 m 
 
A Characteristic 
 
 
 then drop down to South AiistraHa, then to Vic- 
 toria, and so on in due order to Auckland and 
 Otago. Many, perhaps most of the men, have other 
 occupations to fall back upon in the off season. 
 The world's total of sheep is nearly five hundred 
 millions, and of these the colonies of the southern 
 hemisphere own almost a fifth, so that the 
 shearers are naturally a very large and important 
 body. 
 
 It is a striking characteristic of the working-man 
 in Australia that he should be able to make no 
 distinction in his own mind between courtesy and 
 servility. The stranger is at first apt to count this 
 fact for more than it is worth ; for when you have 
 broken the repellent husk of manner, you find that 
 the man who has chosen to cloak hiniself behind 
 it is a very likeable good fellow. But he will 
 meet you on his own terms or none. He will 
 have no airs of patronage, and endure no touch of 
 condescension. He is savagely on the outlook for 
 these things, and waits for an opportunity to 
 resent them. He derides with an unpl6asing 
 openness anything which seems to him an affecta- 
 tion, and makes no allowance for any mannerisms 
 but his own. Sparsely as the country is popu- 
 lated, there is as much blasphemy to the square 
 mile as serves for the people of Great Britain. 
 It is an understood thing amongst such as have to 
 do with cattle, that our four-footed brethren are 
 
 'fi 
 
 J 
 
 I ' 
 
 In 
 
 i 
 
234 
 
 The Cockney Columijus 
 
 P !i 
 
 connoisseurs in this especial art, and that they 
 lend a ready obedience only to such as are 
 complete masters of it. A teamster in a tight 
 place will shoulder a novice out of duty with a 
 ** Let me get at 'em ! " and will at once begin to 
 curse so horribly that for very shame's sake the 
 dumb creatures in his charge will move. The 
 ears of a man who has spent a year in barracks 
 with the British private are not easily scorched, 
 but mine have been made to tingle pretty often 
 within the past two years. To this particular 
 mannerism the young colonial is charitable in the 
 extreme, but if he should light upon an accent 
 which has a touch of ** culchaw " in it, his wrath 
 and his vicarious shame go beyond bounds. It is 
 not an absolute essential that the traveller should 
 speak the language of the country, but the 
 ordinary globe-trotter, armed only with the 
 Queen's English, is at a grave disadvantage. 
 
 It might perhaps be naturally expected that the 
 slang of the country should be richly developed, 
 but this is not so. It is, all things considered, 
 very meagre and unimaginative and vulgar. The 
 raciest part of it is American. Good slang is 
 figurative, incisive ; is fuller, more condensed, and 
 keener than ordinary speech. The true slang of 
 one decade is the idiom of another. Of slang of 
 this sort there is none in Australia — none, at least, 
 which is native to the soil. Such stuff as flourishes 
 
Accent 
 
 235 
 
 there is ugly, shameless, and good tor nothing but 
 to be forgotten. 
 
 The fashionable accent of New South Wales is a 
 droll thing. All self-respecting people there speak 
 of home as howm. They describe themselves as 
 colownials. They tell you that the ** d'y " is 
 " faine " when they desire to say that the day is 
 fine. The odd part of it is that high Sydney 
 and low London have for the moment got ht^ld 
 of the same affectation. It is a trick of the local 
 satirist to set forth " Hingerland " as the typical 
 Englishman's pronunciation of the name of his 
 native land. The local satirist has probably been 
 unfortunate in his associates, but if he choose to 
 look at home he has really a fine hunting-ground. 
 
 [Nothing gave greater offence to my New 
 South Wales critics than the foregoing paragraph. 
 It was interesting to me to notice that when the 
 professional humorists had exhausted all the 
 resources of satiric anger against me, and had 
 proved to their own satisfaction that I was a 
 dunder-head and a liar, they took up the parable I 
 had taught them. They have preached from my 
 text ever since, and for a full five years the accent 
 I noted has been the object of their own legitimate 
 scorn. This is a small thing, but it is worth a 
 word, because it throws some light on the spirit 
 of angry antagonism which the most harmless 
 and playful criticism had power to awaken.] 
 
 I 
 
 •:,' 
 
 
 iNi 
 
236 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 IS I 
 
 Nothing of a very distinctive character has so 
 far been done in the way of art in the colonies, 
 but the way is being paved with great expedi- 
 tion. Those people who proclaim Australia flat 
 and uninteresting from a pictorial point of view, 
 and who tell us that, on that ground, we can 
 look for the development of no school of land- 
 scape painters there, are cither curiously undis- 
 cerning, or can have travelled very little. In 
 respect to easily attainable landscape beauties of 
 the higher sort, I am disposed to count Sydney 
 as amongst the most favoured cities of the 
 World. In three days only, if the sight-seer be 
 minded to hurry himself, he can visit the Blue 
 Mountains and the Bulli Pass, and can explore 
 the Hawkesbury River from Wilberforce down- 
 ward. If I knew of any town from which one 
 could more easily reach more noble or varied 
 scenery, I would certainly make haste to visit it. 
 There are pictures in the Blue Mountains which 
 will one day be painted, but which will never 
 satisfy the man who has once seen the originals 
 until they are put on canvas by an artist of the 
 noblest genius. The scenery there is by itself, 
 and no mere description can do it justice. The 
 vast sombre-coloured bowl of the Katoomba 
 Valley lies before me now, its pathless forests 
 swimming in blue air, its weird rocks rising like 
 the ruins of some pre-Adamite fortress, the wild 
 
Landscape Splendours 
 
 237 
 
 waters of the falls leaping from ledge to ledge j a 
 spectacle never to be forgotten whilst life remains, 
 strange beyond strangeness, gloomily splendid, 
 the home of awful spirits of solitude and silence. 
 The critics who say the scene is monotonous in 
 colour have a mere surface justification and no 
 more. The colour-scheme is severe, but there 
 are a thousand nuances in it which the hand of 
 genius can translate. 
 
 TroUope likened the Hawkesbnry to the Rhine, 
 not, I think very felicitously. The Rhine is trim 
 and orderly, with garden-like banks of vineyard 
 rising in gradual steps one above the other. The 
 Rhine is romantic with a hundred castled heights. 
 The Hawkesbury is savage, unkempt, bound in 
 by forest as virgin as on the day when the un- 
 disturbed savage fished its waters and trapped its 
 wild fowl. But it is memorably beautiful, and no 
 comparison can help the untravelled reader to an 
 actual conception of the forms its beauty takes. 
 
 The Bulli Pass is a lofty coastal road, rising to 
 a height of two thousand feet above the sea. 
 There are places from which one might drop a 
 pebble straight to the sands. The outlook 
 towards Sydney Heads is grand beyond ex- 
 pression. In the foreground enormous boulders 
 lie heaped one above another — the rocky frag- 
 ments at the base are huge as churches — the 
 stunted wind-tormented trees are blown into all 
 
 Vf\ 
 
 i 
 
 i. 
 
■ I 
 
 i' '! ' ■! 
 
 238 
 
 The Cockney Columdus 
 
 conceivable shapes — and in the growing distance 
 headland after headland looks out loftily over 
 amber sands [ind creaminr;^ foam, and a sea of 
 veridian vind sapphire and malachite. 
 
 Sydney is happy, t(K3, in the possession of one 
 of the most beautiful harbours in the world, and 
 in New South Wales at least the landscape artist 
 is in no danger of dying out for lack of material 
 to work upon. 
 
 In a life of which much has been given to travel 
 in search of the picturesque, I have seen nothing 
 so exquisite, so ethereal, so unearthly, so altogether 
 apart from all other forms of beauty, as the 
 Murray River in flood. I travelled by steamer 
 from Morgan to Mildura, a journey of three days, 
 and from the beginning to the end of the voyage 
 was enchanted. The stream at this time was of 
 an average width of five miles — it was nine miles 
 wide in places — and for two days the steamer held 
 its way through a noble forest of eucalypt which 
 stood knee-deep in water. In the lonely, lovely 
 forest glades the water slept so glassy still that 
 every tree was mirrored to its finest twig and 
 topmost leaf. There was not even a ring of 
 moisture on the trunks to show where the real 
 trees ended and the mirrored trees began. The 
 doubled forest lay about us on every side save in 
 the rear, where the ripple caused by the boat's 
 passage confused the reflected forms. The sky 
 
Tin: Murray in Flood 
 
 239 
 
 lay jewel clear above, and jewel clear below. The 
 flocks of wild-scream iiijj^ white cockatoos, which 
 crossed our path at times, were seen as clearly in 
 the mirrored concave as in the actual atmosphere. 
 The illusion was absolute and complete in many 
 ]ilaces where the sleeping waters gave not even a 
 passing gleam, and the real rested on the pictured 
 columns, and the real and the pictured masses 
 of dark foliage hung under and over, as if the 
 whole beautiful scene were suspended before the 
 eye by some strange enchantment, poised in rich- 
 coloured air. And to see the sunset pave the 
 v/atery forest aisles with gold and amber, and 
 scarlet and violet, and all sunset hues, and to see 
 it build stained windows of exquisite dyes at the 
 fai end of the solemn ways, and to watch +he 
 windows, in aisle after aisle, as they faded and 
 faded and faded, was to enjoy such a feast of 
 beauty as I had never known before, and can 
 hardly hope to find again. 
 
 Take it for all in all, the great Australian island- 
 continent is stern and repellent to the unac- 
 customed eye, but there are countless spots of 
 beauty in it, and the more familiar one grows even 
 with the savage raggedness of the bush, or the 
 awful desolation of the plains, the more one finds 
 eye and spirit alike reconciled. The native-born 
 colonial loves the country passionately, and finds 
 beauty in desolation, and grandeur in the wide- 
 
 M 
 
I 
 
 )('!! :" 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 [f <.:\ 
 
 I 
 
 
 1 
 
 240 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 spread miles of squalor and despair. He will 
 have his word in art one of these days, and even 
 if for awhile it may seem untranslatable to the 
 outsider, it will none the less be spoken, and will 
 none the less grow to be finally intelligible. 
 
 In the domain of art, as in whatsoever else is 
 excellent and of good repute, one finds the men 
 of wealth most open-handed and generous. In 
 matters of art the vast mass of people are ab- 
 solutely ignorant and uninterested. Very good. 
 They shall be awakened r.nd instructed. So 
 says private munificence. Tell us — the men of 
 wealth — what is wanted, and, so far as money 
 goes, you shall not want for it. Some of us know 
 little enough about art and the like. We have 
 spent ou" lives in other ways than in the pursuit 
 of aesthetic excellence. But we mean that nobody 
 shall look down upon Australia. 
 
 " The rpirited action of the body of gentlemen 
 who some time ago arranged for an exhibition of 
 British Art in the principal cities of Australia" — 
 so writes the Argus — " is to be followed this year 
 by another effort to forn) a gallery. Experience 
 teaches, so the axiom has it, and Mi Lake, the 
 executive officer of the movement, should be able 
 to make the new collection more attractive than 
 the last. In the first venture he had to contend 
 against the natural disinclination of leading artists 
 to send work to Australia, because the scheme 
 
Public Spirit 
 
 241 
 
 )ody 
 
 year 
 ence 
 the 
 able 
 than 
 tend 
 tists 
 leme 
 
 was largely experimental. But this year .... 
 he will be able to show that the society he repre- 
 sents has a status which promises to become 
 permanent." 
 
 In New Zealand, when the project for the 
 Dunedin Exhibition was in danger of being 
 wrecked by the action of the bank, a citizen 
 stepped in with an offer of a guarantee of a 
 hundred thousand pounds. Show, anywhere in 
 these nev countries, an object which is for the 
 public good, touch the public pride, and the 
 private purse is open. 
 
 The art movement is not only likely to be useful 
 to Australia, but, whilst it succeeds in educating 
 the local public taste, and brings to the native 
 artist the best production of modern Europe for 
 his study and imitation, it extends the art market 
 of the old world. From the last collection 
 exhibited pictures to the value of more than £6300 
 were sold. 
 
 The value of this scheme to colonial artists can 
 be measured, of course, by no monetary standard. 
 About two years ago I was invited to visit an 
 Impressionist Exhibition in Melbourne, and I am 
 afraid that a little on I caused some pain by a 
 criticism which was possibly too outspoken, and 
 which had the sting of being addressed to a rival 
 association in a rival city. Courage goes for much 
 in art, as it does everywhere, but there is a differ- 
 
 R 
 
 ^t! 
 
 I i, 
 
 ( I St 
 
 i 
 
M :1 
 
 ' « 
 
 I' M 
 
 \ : 
 
 i' 
 
 ■111 
 
 I'" 
 
 242 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 ence between it and audacity. The young colonial 
 is everyv/here a trifle over-confident, but he is not 
 often so widely out in his measurement of himself 
 as he was in this particular instance. The Mel- 
 bourne critics, in their desire to avoid giving 
 unnecessary pain, went through the exhibition 
 with apparent gravity, and wrote about it with 
 what looked like seriousness. They know their 
 business thoroughly, as they have proved over and 
 over again, but they were far too amiable here. 
 Half the exhibits were tragi-comic, but it is not 
 likely that the strange fiasco will find a repetition. 
 An examination of the best work of the modern 
 European schools will convince the aspiring and 
 ambitious that facility and value are not one, and 
 that the accomplished master's rapid notes are not 
 to be matched by the hasty records of the half- 
 drilled student. And apart from the exhibitions — 
 though undoubtedly aided by them — there is a 
 growing school of Australian artists, which, as I 
 have said already, will make itself heard of in 
 due time. 
 
 Until now the Antipodean poets have been for 
 the most part men of European birth and culture. 
 Harpur and Kendall were both born in New South 
 Wales, and may be called respectively the grand- 
 father and father of Australian verse, but they are 
 chiefly remarkable as having been the pioneers of 
 poetic effort in their own country. Some of their 
 
Australian I'^oets 
 
 243 
 
 1 for 
 ture. 
 South 
 rand- 
 jy are 
 rs of 
 their 
 
 verses have been printed here, but they are mainly 
 interesting as curios, and have no enduring vahie 
 in themselves. Adam Lindsay Gordon, identified 
 with Australia as he is, was already grown to 
 manhood when he first landed there. Marcus 
 Clarke sailed from England at the age of eighteen, 
 and James Brunton Stevens did not emigrate until 
 he was thirty-one. Gordon and Clarke are held 
 in loving remembrance by all Australian readers. 
 The memories of men who admire letters there 
 chng with a tender and touching fidelity to these 
 two, who were the first to carry authentic news of 
 the literary promise of the colonies to the hearts 
 of their relatives over seas. It is not probable 
 that they consciously rank either of them with 
 Burns, but they have much such a personal 
 affection as Scotchmen extend to their great 
 national bard. They pity their weaknesses, they 
 condone their faults — in short, they love the men. 
 Clarke can stand, and will, on his really great 
 novel, *' His Natural Life," but he has left little 
 else which the world outside Australia will care to 
 keep. He died young, and of all the flower of his 
 splendid promise has left but that one ripened fruit. 
 It was the first Antipodean novel which made a real 
 mark in England, and it is safe to say that it will 
 not be eclipsed by any new comer for many a year. 
 Poor Gordon ! — it seems impossible to think of 
 him in any other way — lives in the hearts of the 
 
 R 2 
 
 i! 
 
 : 
 
 S \ 
 
 !• 
 
 !■ 
 
244 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 whole Australian people. The very larrikin 
 knows him — barracker, bush-whacker, sundowner, 
 millionaire, shearer, young lady of the drawing- 
 rooms, man of business, lonely shepherd, half- 
 savage stock-rider, and blasphemous driver of 
 the bullock team — everybody. I suppose that if 
 a poll were taken it would be found that " How 
 we beat the Favourite " is known to more Austra- 
 lians than any other poem in the world. The old 
 ** Doxology," " Auld Lang Syne,'' and " God Save 
 the Queen " might enter into competition with it, 
 perhaps. Gordon was never a professed man of 
 letters, and he left behind him but a single 
 volume of verses, breathing here and there the 
 very spirit of the land of his adoption, but of 
 strangely unequal merit. 
 
 James Brunton Stevens, who is a more 
 finished artist than either of his peers, has not 
 taken quite the hold he deserves to have, and 
 would certainly have found in a community more 
 widely cultured. It is certain that we had no 
 writer of humorous verse in England in his time 
 who deserves at all to rank with him. His 
 " Convict Once " is overburdened with verbiage, 
 though it is finely conceived and has many beauti- 
 ful passages ; but in some of his serious poems, 
 notably in ** The Dominion of Australia : a Fore- 
 cast," he rises to an equal height with the best 
 of modern poets. 
 
James Brunton Stevens 
 
 245 
 
 [In obedience to the request of several English- 
 men of letters, who were interested by the single 
 verse of this remarkable poem, cited by me in my 
 original pages, I here transcribe the whole of it.] 
 
 THE DOMINION OF AUSTRALIA. 
 
 (a forecast.) 
 
 1877. 
 
 She is not yet ; but he whose ear 
 Thrills to that finer atmosphere, 
 Where footfalls of appointed things, 
 
 Reverberant of days to be. 
 Are heard in forecast echoings, 
 
 Like wave-beats from a viewless sea — 
 Hears in the voiceful tremors of the sky 
 Auroral heralds whispering, "She is nigh."' 
 
 She is not yet; but he whose night 
 Foreknows the advent of the light, 
 Whose soul to morning radiance turns 
 
 Ere night her curtains hath withdrawn, 
 And in its quivering folds discerns 
 
 The mute monitions of the dawn, 
 With urgent sense strained onward to descry 
 Her distant tokens, starts to find her nigh. 
 
 Not yet her day. How long "not yet?" . . . 
 There comes the flush of violet ! 
 And heavenward faces, all aflame 
 
 With sanguine imminence of morn, 
 Wait but the sun-kiss to proclaim 
 
 The Day of the Dominion born. 
 Prelusive baptism ! — ere the natal hour 
 Named with the name and prophecy of power. 
 
 Already here to hearts intense 
 
 A spirit force, transcending sense. 
 
 In heights unsealed, in deeps unstirred, 
 
 Beneath the calm, above the storm, 
 S he waits the incorporating word 
 
 To bid her tremble into form, 
 i J ""iy, like divining-rods, men's souls 
 bena Oown to where the unieen rivqr rolls ; — 
 
 ■i 
 
 ; I 
 
246 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 For even, as from sight concealed, 
 By never flush of dawn revealed, 
 Nor e'er illumed by golden noon, 
 
 Nor sunset-streaked with crimson bar, 
 Nor silver-spanned by wake of moon, 
 
 Nor visited of any star, 
 Beneath these lands a river waitfi to bless 
 (So men divine) our utmost wilderness, — 
 
 Rolls dark, but yet shall know our skies, 
 Soon as the wisdom of the wise 
 Conspires with nature to disclose 
 
 The blessing prisoned and unseen. 
 Till round our lessening wastes there glows 
 
 A perfect zone of broadening green, — 
 Till all our land, Australia Felix called. 
 Became one Continent Isle of Emerald; — 
 
 So flows beneath our good and ill 
 A viewless stream of common will, 
 A gathering force, a present might. 
 
 That from its silent depths of gloom 
 At wisdom's voice shall leap to light ; 
 
 And hide our barren feuds in bloom, 
 Till all our sundering lines with love o'ergrown, 
 Our bounds shall be the girdling seas alone. 
 
 * 
 
 The people of the colonies have not yet learned 
 to trust their own unaided judgment in letters, 
 and, until London has placed its imprimatur on 
 the work of one of their own men, they are 
 disposed to think little of him. " Rolfe Bold- 
 wood " wrote in obscurity for years, until he 
 secured a London publisher, when he sprang to 
 fame with a suddenness which would have turned 
 the heads of some men. It seemed to affect him 
 very little, if at all. I found him charmingly cor- 
 dial, simple, and sincere ; the sort of man who at 
 once enlists esteem and liking. *' Robbery under 
 
Prospects of Literature 
 
 247 
 
 Arms" is a rather phenomenal book, but the writer's 
 experience fitted him perfectly for the tas!- he 
 chose ; the life he painted so truly was new to 
 ninety-nine people in every hundred to whom the 
 story appealed, and the unadorned, simple, and 
 manly style he adopted in it was exactly suited 
 to his powers. 
 
 Not to multiply instances, it may be said 
 generally that the tendency of Australian writers 
 is wholesomely and honestly realistic. They write 
 of what they know, and find that best which 
 lies nearest. This is the only way to a national 
 and distinctive literature. Writers find the opposi- 
 tion of the London book market cruelly oppressive, 
 and for many who would fain follow letters as a 
 profession the road looks sterile and difficult. 
 Henry Kendall, in his In Memoriam verses over 
 Marcus Clarke, makes heart-felt moan : 
 
 " The laurels in the pit were won ; 
 He had to take the lot austere 
 That ever seems to wait upon 
 The man of letters here." 
 
 One can see that the thought was often present to 
 his mind, for, in a dedication to his wife, he has 
 employed the very words which he echoes uncon- 
 sciously in the verse just quoted : 
 
 " Who faced for love's sole sake the life austere 
 Which waits upon the man of letters here." 
 
 Everywhere, of course, there are countless people 
 who were born to fall and who strive to climb, 
 
 1 ; 
 
 ; :!■. 
 

 M 
 
 248 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 and at the Antipodes, as elsewhere, there are 
 literary aspirants whom no conspiracy of fortune 
 could lift to the place they covet ; but I speak out 
 of personal knowledge when I say that there is 
 much work done there which in a larger and more 
 literary world would command respect, which 
 waits, as yet in vain, for the light of day to shine 
 upon it in the colonies. The wanderer in those 
 climes who has a literary reputation at home is in 
 one particular a man to be pitied. He is buried 
 under an avalanche of manuscript, and, if he read 
 but half the matter submitted to him, might far 
 better be chained to the critic's oar at home. The 
 efforts range, as they always do, from excellence 
 to vileness. The most comical thing I ever saw 
 was a manuscript submitted to me in New Zealand. 
 In a certain town there which I will not name, a 
 play of mine had been produced under my own 
 supervision. Two elderly ladies called at my 
 hotel, and one of them confided to my care as 
 something precious the manuscript of a three-act 
 drama. I was asked to collaborate in the finishing 
 of this work, and to secure for it a London pro- 
 duction. The earliest lines of the drama, which 
 was untitled and gave no list of dramatis personae, 
 ran thus : — " Somebody has tolled Alice that she is 
 no wife, but she is a wife. Three days later, 
 Alice's horse throughs Alice at the husband's door 
 and his leg is broken," To this day I know no 
 
Music 
 
 249 
 
 more of the drama. I left it free of those 
 "finishing touches" I had been asked to supply, 
 resolute that no meddling of mine should destroy 
 its native charm. But if ever it is produced in its 
 original form I promise it an audience of one. 
 
 Melbourne shines in respect to its musical 
 organizations. Orchestral music there is a fashion, 
 and the Victorian Orchestra could hold its own in 
 any country. The part-singing of the Liedertafel 
 is excellent. But in everything in the colonics 
 there must be a vogue, a "boom," or it can have 
 no success. Since Mr. Frederick Cowen created 
 the fashion in the Victorian capital concerted 
 music draws all ears. Madame Schiller played to 
 empty benches. When Santley was singing his 
 way through New Zealand, the great baritone and 
 I stayed at the same hotel in Christchurch. I 
 overheard a fragment of conversation at the bar, 
 which seemed to me amusing and instructive. 
 " Santley ? " said a big energetic man with an 
 explosive voice. "Santley! Santley can't sing the 
 Village Blacksmith ! You should hear my brother 
 Jack ! " There are some splendid singers, who 
 ought to be quite sure of their position, to whom 
 one would not like to repeat even so harmless a 
 criticism, but Mr. Santley is not one of them. I 
 met him a few minutes later and told him what I 
 had heard. He laughed, and answered that he 
 thought he must have met that man's brother 
 
 II 
 
 !! 
 
 1:1 
 
 1 ' 
 
 ^i 
 
I 
 
 : 
 
 
 \^m 
 
 250 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 Jack pretty often since he had left Enj:^land. 
 Writing of music reminds me of what I have said 
 earUer respecting the droll little jealousies which 
 exist between the colonies. Sydn'^y built a 
 majestic organ in its new Centennial Hall, an 
 instrument which, if not f/ie grandest, is amongst 
 the grandest. Sydn(.>y invited Mr. Best to 
 inaugurate this splendid kist o' whistles. Mr. 
 Best, accepting the invitation and the high and 
 merited compliment it paid him, went out, and 
 found that from some cause or other the great 
 organ was not ready. Whilst the musician waited, 
 doing nothing, Melbourne thought it wr ild like to 
 hear him, and wrote him to that effect. The 
 Sydney committee refused to allow his acceptance 
 of this supplementary invitation. The hated 
 Melbourne was not to reap any advantage from 
 Sydney's enterprise. It is only a trifle, of course, 
 but all trifles are blown in that direction fiercely, 
 and they show the way of the wind. Melbourne 
 was, and is, most lordly wrothful. 
 
 I have only quite recently re-read the critical 
 essays of Marcus Clarke, and, a propos of the 
 changes which must inevitably take place in the 
 physique of the Australian people, I note this 
 passage : — " In another hundred years the average 
 Australian will be a tall, coarse, strong-jawed, 
 nrr, talented man, excellincf in swim- 
 
 greedy, pu5 
 
 niing and horsemanship. His religion will be a 
 
Early Marriages 
 
 '51 
 
 form of Presbytcrianism ; his national policy a 
 Democracy tempered by the rate of cxchan^^e. 
 His wife will be a thin, narrow woman, very fond 
 of dress and idleness, caring; little for her children, 
 but without sufficient brain-power to sin with 2est. 
 In five hundred years — unless recruited from 
 foreign nations — the breed will be wholly extinct ; 
 but in that five hundred years it will have changed 
 the face of nature, and swallowed up all our con- 
 temporary civilisation." These things being thus 
 definitely settled for us, it is of course useless to 
 speculate further, but there are some actual facts 
 about the people who form the subject of this 
 daring prophecy which may ^^erhaps aid us in 
 arriving at a conclusion which, if less definite, may 
 not be much farther from the mark. 
 
 The go-ahead, tarry-for-nothing spirit of the 
 people is curiously exemplified in the fact that 
 there are a thousand boys in the colonies under 
 the age of twe ty-one who have taken upon them- 
 selves the responsibilities of married life. The 
 Australian boy is a man as soon as he is breeched. 
 Parental control, as we know it in England, has 
 faded out entirely. There is no reverence in the 
 rising generation, and the ties of home are slight. 
 Age and experience count for little. Youth will 
 have its way, and takes it, with a freedom less 
 agreeable to the onlooker than to itself. 
 
 The Vvhok country is filkd with a feverish, 
 
 II 
 
 i[ 
 
 i : 
 

 i|i^* 
 
 252 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 I 
 
 restless, and reckless enerpfy. Everybody is 
 in a hurry to be rich. The ambition to turn 
 the nimble ninepence pales before the desire to 
 make a coup, and to achieve independence at a 
 step. In 1888 there was an insolvency to every 
 1500 of the population of Australia, including 
 Tasmania and New Zealand.' Even in the 
 disastrous 1879 we could only show half that in 
 the United Kingdom, and the normal average is 
 less than a quarter of the colonial record. 
 Farmers, selectors, builders, contractors, and 
 architects, stind high in the list of insolvents. 
 The two former are subject to risks of drought and 
 flood, and the other three are ruined by over- 
 speculation. It is a matter of frequent boast in 
 Melbourne that land there has realized higher 
 prices than it has done even in the City of 
 London. The statement has been offered to me 
 proudly by many people as a proof of the city's 
 progress. It is surely something of a pity if it be 
 true, and at least it affords a fair instance of the 
 mistakes men make in the calculation of a 
 community's prosperity. The " land-boom," 
 which only two or three years ago made Victorians 
 
 The importance of this statement is enormously dis- 
 counted by the fact that the Colonial Bankruptcy Courts 
 grant relief to debtors of a much humbler class than are 
 forced or permitted to seek its shelter at home. With this 
 allowance the discrepancy in great part disappears. I allow 
 the passage to stand with this note as a just penance for 
 insufficient carefulness in inquiry. 
 
TiiH Land-Boom 
 
 253 
 
 a 
 » 
 
 lma/:,Mnc that they had come to a kind of financial 
 millennium, has left business lax and languid. Of 
 this fact the table of the Registrar-General's 
 transactions and fees affords indisputable evidence. 
 From 1888 to 1889 the fees fell by nearly one- 
 third of their ' :)tal value. For crowds of Mel- 
 bourne men, whilst the ** boom " lasted, a river of 
 champagne flowed over a bed of gold, and ** all the 
 delicacies of the season " bloomed at the edge of 
 that delightful stream. Even now they boast that 
 any community less vigorous than their own would 
 have been killed or shattered by that prolonged 
 delicious orgie. It is perfectly true that they have 
 come out of it with less damage than might have 
 been expected, and that in an older country the 
 suffering would have been much greater. It is 
 not easy to kill the resources of a country like 
 Australia; but perhaps it is as well not to try too 
 often. 
 
 In a land so new a certain element of 
 boisterousness is to be looked for naturally, and 
 the real wonder is not that there should be so 
 much of the rowdy element as there is, but that 
 there should be so little. Van Diemen's Land and 
 Botany Bay are expunged from the maps and the 
 Gazetteers, but, as an American philosopher of my 
 acquaintance is recorded to have said, '* if you call 
 beef mutton it don't alter the flavour much," and 
 the elements of which the earlier populations of 
 
 i ' 
 
 i ii 
 
■NIRHPBIIHIIiHl 
 
 254 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 Tasmania and New vSouth Wales were compact 
 still remain to leaven the modern mass with 
 influences not alto,c^ether wholesome. Our 
 southern relatives are tender on this theme, as 
 they have a natural right to be, and only a fool 
 would use it as a handle for reproacli. There is 
 nothing more significant of the inherent desire for 
 good in men and women who belong presumably 
 to the leasL desirable classes than the modern 
 record of one of the old convict settlements. 
 Hope and elbow room have done more for the 
 regeneration of man at his imagined worst than 
 all the wicked severities of the past could have 
 effected in a thousand years. But where elbow 
 room is denied the criminal characteristics crop 
 out again, and the criminal statistics of the two 
 great towns are unusually high. The figures for 
 insanity, alcoholism, suicide, and crimes of 
 viclence are sadly large. In Victoria one person 
 in evp'"y 105 of the population wa'^j in prison during 
 some part of the year 1888.' In the United 
 Kingdom for that year the average of convictions 
 in proportion to population was 3*64 per 10,000. 
 In New South Wales it was 8'5g, and in the 
 whole of Australasia it amounted to 6*15, although 
 
 * It was angrily objected by my critics that these figures 
 were only arrived at by the repeated convictions of petty 
 offenders within the same year. The objection has no force, 
 for it applies equally to the figures with which those for 
 Victoria are contrasted. 
 
i 
 i 
 
 Education 
 
 255 
 
 South Australia, New Zealand, and Tasmania 
 showed a joint average of only 3*81. In the 
 United Kingdom the average of suicide is 5*5 to 
 every 100,000. In Victoria it is ii'C, in New 
 South Wales 9*5, and in Queensland lyj. In 
 the United Kingdom the average of deaths from 
 excessive drinking is 54 in a million. In Victoria 
 it is 113*50 — more than double. In New South 
 Wales crimes of violence are almost four times as 
 numerous as in New Zealand, where everything is 
 tolerably normal from the British standpoint. 
 
 Whilst all this is true, the standard of adult 
 education is higher than in any other country in 
 the world excepting Prussia. The education of 
 the young — so far as mere schooling is concerned 
 — is nowhere better controlled or more liberally 
 provided for. In every one of the Australian 
 colonies the State system of education is com- 
 pulsory and undenominational, or secular. In 
 Victoria, Queensland, ai'd New Zealand public 
 instruction is free. In the other colonies fees are 
 charged ; but in cases where the parents are 
 unable to pay them they are remitted, partially or 
 entirely. The cost of State education is set down 
 at ten shillings per head of the colonial population. 
 The efforts of the State are magnificently seconded 
 by private munificence. The Hon. Francis 
 Ormond spent more than a hundred thousand 
 pounds in the foundation and endowment of the 
 
 I . 
 
 h 
 
 1 
 
 H 
 
 i 
 
w^'^u^r'^fiaam 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 college which bears his name, and many such 
 instances of a wise and splendid benevolence 
 might be cited. In this regard the colonics take 
 rank with any country in the world. 
 
 Victoria is easily ahead of the other colonies in 
 its educational record, and there, even so long ago 
 as 1881, the Census returns showed that out often 
 thousand children between the ages of five and 
 fifteen go88 could read. How happily situated 
 this colony is in this and one other important 
 respect may be gathered from the contrasted facts 
 that where France spends ten times as much in 
 armaments as she does on education, ^''ictoria 
 spends three times as much on education as in 
 armaments. 
 
 Public libraries, museums, and art galleries are 
 everywhere, and are in all cases excellently built 
 and admirably ordered. Unfortunately, in the 
 very nature of things, they appeal most to those 
 who have least need of them, and least to those 
 who have most need. This unhappily is always 
 true, but it is truer in the colonies than elsewhere 
 for many reasons. 
 
 There is no country in which so high a condi- 
 tion of general comfort, so lofty a standard of 
 proved intelligence, and such large and varied 
 means to intellectual excellence exist side by side 
 with so lax a commercial morality, and such 
 overchaged statistics of crimes of violence. 
 
 a 
 
1 
 
 Statistics 
 
 257 
 
 i 
 
 such 
 )lence 
 , take 
 
 ies in 
 igago 
 often 
 TQ and 
 tuated 
 )ortant 
 d facts 
 luch in 
 'ictoria 
 n as in 
 
 ies are 
 
 y built 
 
 in the 
 
 those 
 
 those 
 
 always 
 
 lewhere 
 
 condi- 
 lard of 
 
 varied 
 [by side 
 id such 
 riolence. 
 
 Convictions in Australia arc to convictions in the 
 United Kingdom as two to one. The highest 
 percentage of deaths from the abuse of alcohol is 
 recorded in Australia. It is 113 as against 80 even 
 in Switzerland, and as against 46 in England and 
 Wales. In the figures given the issue is confused 
 by the introduction of the statistics of " towns " 
 and " principal towns " of some '"ew countries, 
 though even there Paris reaches no higher than 95 
 and London falls to 74. In Ireland the deaths 
 from alcoholism are only a little over a quarter of 
 those registered for the Australias. The towns of 
 Denmark rise to the awful average of 274, but it 
 IS evident that a full statement of the facts would 
 reduce it greatly. 
 
 The answer to the question propounded above 
 cannot be given in a nutshell, but it can be made 
 fairly clear. To begin with, it must be remembered 
 that the law-abiding and law-breaking populations 
 are divided with an unusual sharpness of distinc- 
 tion. The ordinary traveller, of ordinary culture, 
 finds nothing as he makes his tour in the colonies 
 which enables him very keenly to differentiate 
 between the Home and the Colonial standards. 
 In other words, he meets very much the same 
 kind of people he meets at home, and, though he 
 may tire of wool and gold as a substitute for 
 Shakespeare, and the musical glasses as themes for 
 converse, he will in the main find himself in the 
 
 ! 
 
 h 
 
 'if 
 
 1 K 
 
 ill 
 
258 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 <*' 
 
 J^Hj 
 
 
 
 
 ih 
 
 ;i 
 
 <Ih i'! 
 
 
 kind of moral and intellectual quarters to which 
 he has been accustomed. The balance of popula- 
 tion, as against crime, might be very nearly normal, 
 if it were not for the introduction of disturbing 
 influences. These are traceable to our ancient 
 and now abandoned habit of shooting the 
 Imperial human refuse on Australian shores ; to 
 the natural boisterousness of a young and 
 partially settled community ; to the adventurous 
 and frequently lawless character of the men drawn 
 to great alluvial gold-fields ; and to the wild, 
 unsettled life still led by a considerable number of 
 men in the far north and west. 
 
 The position of the facts cannot be rightly 
 appreciated until the colonies are classified. Out 
 of the seven, five may be said to be reduced to 
 order as completely as a perfect system of 
 magistrature and police can secure it. In the 
 northern parts of Queensland, and in nearly the 
 whole extra-mural regions of West Australia, the 
 population is sparse and wild, and, though 
 offenders are reached after the commission of 
 crime, they are not quelled beforehand by the 
 immediate threat and presence of the strong arm 
 of the law. Now, of the five remaining colonies. 
 New Zealand, Tasmania, and South Australia 
 prec'^nt characteristics which, in the main, 
 resemble those of Great Britain, isouth Australia 
 is the model colony, being clearer of insolvency, 
 
Popular Morals 
 
 259 
 
 htiy 
 Out 
 d to 
 of 
 the 
 the 
 , the 
 ough 
 Dn of 
 the 
 arm 
 
 drunkenness, and crime than the Mother Country 
 itself. It is droll to see how little account her two 
 more populous sister colonies take of her. Mel- 
 bourne and Sydney vote Adelaide *' slow," and 
 the Victorian and New South Welshman deride 
 the South Australian for his want of dash and 
 vigour. 
 
 Thus the charge narrows. It would as yet be 
 unfair to expect of Western Australia, with its 
 population of 47,000 to its more than a million 
 of square miles, the decorum of civilized Victoria, 
 networked with railways, and built over with 
 churches, chapels, and State schools, or that of 
 New South Wales, with its history of a hundred 
 years. We have, then, to deal with the parent 
 colony and its great offshoot. We have to deal, 
 in short, with what most men mean when they 
 talk about Australia in a business sense. Let us 
 see how Victoria and New South Wales stand 
 when taken together. We find twenty-nine con- 
 victions, as against seven in the United Kingdom ; 
 and seven deaths from alcoholism, as against three 
 in the United Kingdom. 
 
 New South Wales has its old convict population 
 to fight down, and Victoria has yet to absorb a not 
 easily digested mass of unruled humanity, and so 
 far the explanation is easy. But it is evident that 
 a certain commercial laxity has grown to be a part 
 of the constitution of the country, for it is not 
 
 s 2 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 ! h 
 
!>; 
 
 in 
 
 260 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 only the descendants of old convicts, or the 
 searchers of alluvial gold and wild adventure, who 
 are responsible for its widespread commercial 
 rottenness. 
 
 Pardon one more quotation. The most eloquent 
 defender of Australia writes : — " Criminality is not 
 reproductive. The genius of the thief buds, 
 blossoms, and dies as surely as does the genius of 
 the artist. But for emigration the convict 
 continent would have been de-peopled. Immigra- 
 tion ensued, and what an immigration I The best 
 bone and sinew of Cornwall, the best muscle of 
 Yorkshire, the keenest brains of Cockneydom — 
 Bathurst, Ballarat. Bendigo had them all. With 
 them came also the daring spendthrift, the young 
 cavalry officer who had lived too fast for the Jews, 
 the younger son who had outrun his income. 
 Barristers of good family and small practice, 
 surgeons having all the Dublin Dissector in their 
 heads and all the hospital experience of Paris in 
 their hands, met each other over a windlass at 
 Bathurst or in a drive at Ballarat. If there was 
 plenty of muscle in the new land, there was no 
 lack of blood. Put aside prejudice and look at 
 the Bench, the Bar, and the Church of this great 
 continent. Look at the schools, libraries, and 
 botanic gardens of Australia. Read the accounts 
 of the boat races, the cricket matches, and say if 
 our youth are not manly. Listen to the plaudits 
 
Marcus Clarke's Apology 
 
 261 
 
 which greet a finished orator or a finely gifted 
 singer, and confess also that we have some taste 
 and culture. Go into those parts of the country 
 where the canker of trade has not yet penetrated, 
 and mark the free hospitality, the generous kind- 
 ness, the honest welcome which shall greet you. 
 Sail up Sydney Harbour, ride over a Queensland 
 plain, watch the gathering of an Adelaide harvest, 
 or mingle with the orderly crowd which throngs to 
 a Melbourne Cup race, and deny, if you can, that 
 there is here the making of a great nation. You 
 do not deny it ; but—. But what ? " 
 
 I am very much afraid that the last few pages 
 find something of an answer to the eloquent 
 apologist's question. 
 
 i 
 
 
 H 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 I HAVE as yet done little more than allude to 
 that portion of the colonies which is, after all, the 
 most interesting, and, to my mind, the richest 
 in promise. New Zealand is the future home of 
 the dominant race of the Southern Hemisphere. 
 She lies under a cloud just now, and her finances 
 have been thrown into a dreadful muddle by 
 extravagance and mismanagement. Some of the 
 public works are a standing reproach to the 
 public men of New Zealand, and some years 
 must elapse, even if the wise economy of the 
 present administration be continued, before the 
 country can recover itself. The natural growth 
 of the community has received a severe check, but 
 not all the folly and rashness of which the race 
 of politicians could be guilty could permanently 
 arrest it. 
 
 I was confidently assured in Australia that I 
 might see New Zealand thoroughly in the course 
 of a two months' trip, and when I set out to visit 
 it, it was my purpose not to extend my stay greatly 
 
t ■■ 
 
 Beautiful New Zealand 
 
 263 
 
 beyond that limit. In effect, I found a year all 
 too little for my purpose. The physical aspects 
 of the country alone are so extraordinary and 
 delightful that a lover of Nature finds it hard to 
 withdraw himself from the influence of their 
 charm. New Zealanders delight to speak of their 
 country as the Wonderland of the South. They 
 are justified, and more than justified. The 
 northern island is an amazement, but its gruesome 
 volcanic grotesqueries please less than the scenic 
 splendours of its southern neighbour. The sounds 
 of the west coast more than rival the Norwegian 
 fjords. Te Anau and Manipouri and Wakatipu 
 are as fine as the lakes of Switzerland. The 
 forests, irreverently called " bush," are beyond 
 words for beauty, A little energy, a little courage, 
 might make New Zealand the pet recreation 
 ground of half the world. The authorities are 
 already filling its lakes with trout, and will by-and- 
 by people its forests with game. There is a very 
 large portion of country which, except for purposes 
 of sport and travel, is not likely to be utilized by 
 man. The lake trout grow to enormous size, and 
 as they multiply, and luod grows comparatively 
 scarcer, they are learning to take the fly. It was 
 an understood thing for years that there was no 
 sport for the fly-fisher with the trout at Wakatipu, 
 but that theory has died out, for the very simple 
 reason that the facts have altered. There is no 
 
264 
 
 TlIR CoCKNliV COLUM15US 
 
 li >' 
 
 reason in nature why an acclimatization society 
 should not succeed in a very few years in making' 
 the south-west portion of the middle island an 
 actual paradise to the sportsman. It is the plain 
 duty of New Zealand to invite the outside world 
 to enter its borders, and, for once in a way, a plain 
 duty is reco^nizgd. 
 
 I wish I had the remnant of these paj^es free for 
 a description of the ^dories of sound and forest and 
 lake and mountain ; but my space must be kept 
 for matter which is dryer and less interesting to 
 the writer. I shall, however, remember, so lon.c^ 
 as I remember anythinj^, the three avalanches I 
 saw and heard thundering down the side of Mount 
 Pembroke as I sat in a boat on the glassy waters 
 of Milford Sound. In many and many an hour I 
 shall see Wetjacket Arm and Dusky Sound again, 
 with their vast precipices, luxuriant forests, and 
 rejoicing cataracts. I shall dream, thank Heaven, 
 of the awe and worship I felt as the steamer crept 
 round the edge of Rat's Point, and little by little, 
 one by one, the white wonders of the Earnslaw 
 range slid into view, until at last the whole 
 marvellous, unspeakable panorama stood revealed, 
 a spectacle the world may perhaps rival elsewhere, 
 but cannot surpass. So long as I remember 
 anything I shall remember a summer day on the 
 banks of the Poseidon. I sat on a fallen log on 
 the track which leads to Lake Ada, and the 
 
Beautitul Ni:\v Zealand 
 
 265 
 
 robins, in tlu'ir beautiful, fearless unfiimiliarity 
 with man, perched on my feet, and one feathered 
 inquirer ventured even to my knee. The sunlight 
 steeped the thick foliage overhead until the leaves 
 shone transparent Vvith colours of topaz and of 
 emerald. The moss on the trees was silver-grey 
 and vivid green, and there were fungoids of 
 vermilion and cadmium, and scaly growths of pure 
 cobalt blue ; the most amazing and prodigious 
 riot of colour the mind can conceive. The river 
 ran below with many a caverned undertone. It 
 is the desire of all good New Zealanders that the 
 beauties of their country should be advertised. I 
 offer this humble contribution to that end with a 
 willing heart. I shall be thankful to my latest day 
 to have seen those beauties, v.'hich I have been 
 abie only to hint at. The traveller who misses 
 New Zealand leaves unseen the country which, 
 take it all in all, is probably the loveliest in the 
 world. The climate varies from stern to mild. 
 That of Auckland is warm and sluggish ; that of 
 Dunedin keen, inspiring. Situate midway between 
 the two you find perfection. Napier will be the 
 sanatorium of that side of the world one of these 
 days. All over New Zealand one meets people 
 who went out there to die, twenty, thirty, forty 
 years ago, rnd who are living yet, robust and 
 hale. The air is fatal to phthisis, as it is also in 
 Australia. The most terrible foe of the British 
 
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266 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
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 li' 
 
 race is disarmed in these favoured lands. Take 
 it in the main, the climate of New Zealand is 
 fairly represented by that of Great Britain. The 
 southern parts remind one of Scotland, the 
 northern of Devon and Cornwall. The variety of 
 which Lesser Britain has so much reason to 
 complain is absent. The British climate is 
 idealized in New Zealand. 
 
 This fact alone is of the utmost importance in 
 the estimation of the future of the race. In 
 similar environment the British people have 
 already pretty clearly shown what they can do, and 
 in New Zealand I found myself absolutely unable 
 to trace the beginning of a variation from the 
 British breed. Dunedin, allowing for an influx 
 of Southern Britons, might be Aberdeen ; Christ- 
 church, population and all, might be planted in 
 Warwickshire, and no tourist would know that it 
 was not indigenous there. They call their local 
 stream the Avon, and boating there some idle 
 summer days, I easily dreamed myself at home 
 again, and within bowshot of the skyward-point- 
 ing spire which covers the bones of Shakespeare. 
 It is, I believe, a fact that the stream is christened 
 after another river than that which owes its 
 glamour to the poet's name, but in a case of this 
 kind mere fact matters little, and the inhabitants 
 themselves are, for the most part, quite willing to 
 ignore it. 
 
Points of Contrast 
 
 267 
 
 I grieved the dearest and kindest friend I left 
 behind me in Australia by telling him that I 
 thought the people of New Zealand more advanced 
 in art than those of his own adopted country. I 
 shall grieve him again by repeating that belief in 
 these pages. I intrude a personality for one 
 passing moment only, and stretch out a hand to 
 that loyal friend, good comrade, good fellow, and 
 prince of wanderers. He shall not be angry with 
 me if I can help it, because I cannot blindly share 
 his enthusiastic and unquestioning glory in all 
 things Australian. 
 
 Perhaps I was unfortunate on the one side and 
 fortunate on the other in my encounters, but I 
 seemed to find in New Zealand twice as many 
 people who knew and loved books, pictures, and 
 music, as I had found in Australia. I cannot help 
 thinking my own judgment accurate, for, apart 
 from an observation which may be incomplete, 
 there are many reasons why the fact should be as 
 I seem to find it. Australia enlisted, and still 
 enlists, some classes of people for whom New 
 Zealand has no charm, the pushing, eager men, 
 who are in a hurry to be rich. New Zealand was 
 largely peopled by English gentlemen and ladies, 
 not of the adventurous type at all, but just quietly 
 courageous enough to go out and face the diffi- 
 culties and perils of a new country. They went 
 out to make the soil their own, to found new 
 
 I 
 
268 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 families, and to disencumber old ones. They 
 have not made money as fast as their more eager 
 and tenacious neighbours. They have even of 
 late fallen back from some of the advantages they 
 had secured, but the repulse is only temporary, 
 and the government of Sir Harry Atkinson has 
 made it evident that the necessary lesson has 
 been learned. The public debt is no longer to be 
 increased with a light heart. The Government 
 has learned economy, and in a few years the 
 financial basis will be as sound as ever. There is 
 a good deal of England's best blood in Australia, 
 but its owners were, in most instances, adven- 
 turers, and their wild spirit has not yet cooled 
 down. The emigrant to New Zealand was of a 
 staider type, and more generally cultured. On 
 the whole, he is more loyal to racial traditions, 
 and nurses a love of the old country, a pride in its 
 history. 
 
 There has been in old times matter for shame, 
 sometimes for the deepest shame, in our treatment 
 of conquered savage races, but in New Zealand 
 we have shown a lesson to the world. The neces- 
 sary fight is over. It is hard on the noble savage 
 that the all-invading white man should dispossess 
 him, but, after all, the event is unescapable by any 
 human arrangement. It is likely enough that the 
 Maori race owes much of the exceptional treat- 
 ment it has received to its own high qualities. 
 
The Maoris 
 
 269 
 
 Only the other day they were at war with the 
 white invader, and now their representatives sit in 
 the legislative chamber. Many of them have 
 adopted the ways of civilization, and even those 
 who retain the primitive habits of their forefathers 
 are redeemed from the coarser ways of savagedom. 
 They are altogether a very lovable people, and in 
 not a few respects they remind the traveller of 
 Paddy. Paddy's good lady has a knack of wearing 
 her husl .nd's coat, and of smoking a short clay. 
 Her Maori sister has the same habits. Paddy 
 keeps a pig, and gives him the run of the house. 
 So does the Maori. Both in Ireland and in 
 Maoriland the cultivation of the potato is the form 
 of agriculture most practised. To complete the 
 parallel, the Maoris have a land grievance. Like 
 Paddy, they are idle, voluble, rollicking, emotional, 
 hospitable, ready to fight or kiss at a moment's 
 notice. They are partially converted to European 
 ideas about costume, and the dress of a great 
 number of them would do credi to Ballyporeen. 
 The statement looks odd at the first sight of it, 
 but their adoption of European dress is killing 
 the race as surely as if it were a pestilence. They 
 get wet through, and have no idea of removing 
 their clothes, and, as a natural consequence, con- 
 sumption, which has no native right in the country 
 at all, is rife amongst them. 
 
 I am writing at a distance from my books, or I 
 
 i 
 
 f, 
 
270 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 should like to cite a legend or two from Sir George 
 Grey's collection to illustrate the mental charac- 
 teristics of this surprising race of savages. They are 
 sometimes genuinely, and even exquisitely, poetical. 
 One of them relates how the heavens and the earth 
 were, at the beginning of things, united in marriage, 
 and how the sky was torn away from the partner 
 of her love by her own children, the storm winds. 
 Every night she weeps over her lost husband, and 
 her tears are the dew. Sometimes the stories are 
 very quaintly and oddly imaginative, as where the 
 tale is told of three brethren who took a canoe to 
 fish, and went far, far away out into the open sea, 
 when one of them, who had prepared a magic 
 hook, caught what was supposed to be a great fish 
 at the bottom, and drawing it up to the surface, 
 found thrt he had discovered New Zealand. That 
 was how the land came into being, and the 
 Maoris point to two or three of the great moun- 
 tain ranges as the stone canoes in which their 
 giant ancestors came from some far-off country to 
 people the land. The mixture of childish naivete 
 and high imagination makes the collection actually 
 fascinating. 
 
 One legend which reached me lately, though 
 for aught I know it may have been published, 
 seems interesting enough to be related here. 
 There are two volcanoes, a big one and a little 
 one, standing near to each other. The big one is 
 
Sir George G 'y 
 
 271 
 
 the husband, the little one the bride, and when 
 the smoke blows from the gentleman's cone in the 
 direction of the lady, he is supposed to be paying 
 his addresses to her. In the old original times 
 there was an interloper in the person of a third 
 volcano, who, whilst the lady's proprietor was 
 supposed to be asleep, ventured to project his 
 smoke in her direction. But the bridegroom had 
 only feigned to slumber, and had expected this 
 attempted encroachment upon his privileges. He 
 had gathered his forces already, and smote his 
 rival from beneath with such a shock of earthquake 
 that he lifted him from his rocky roots and hurled 
 him to a lonely promontory thirty or forty miles 
 away. He has never recovered sufficient spirit to 
 go back again, and stands there still. Modern 
 men name that ejected intruder Mount Egmont. 
 
 I am glad to have been led to the mention of 
 these curious legends, because they bring me, in a 
 perfectly natural and easy way, to the man to 
 whom the world owes most of its knowledge con- 
 cerning them. There is little enough talk of Sir 
 George Grey on this side of the world, anc little 
 enough knowledge of his achievements. He is the 
 Nestor of New Zealand. He was the Governor of 
 South Australia half a century ago, and he did as 
 much for the development of the resources of 
 British possessions at the Cape as any man alive. 
 A statesman, a soldier, an orator, and a scholar, a 
 
272 
 
 The Cockney Columhus 
 
 man who has showered gifts of all sorts on the 
 latest country in which he has served his people 
 and his Queen, he lives still with a freshness of 
 political ideal which is perhaps only rivalled by 
 our own Gladstone. He is full of somewhat Irish 
 suavities, and has those delightfully urbane 
 manners which are associated, in the minds of 
 reading people, with the gentlemen of eighty years 
 ago. Mr. Froude is generally supposed to have 
 been too much under Sir George Grey's dominion, 
 and his book is condemned by the mass of New 
 Zealanders partly on the ground that it represents 
 too exclusively Sir George Grey's opinions. I can 
 recall few pleasanter days than those I spent in the 
 society of the ex-Governor of New Zealand. He 
 is commonly credited with a desire to make all 
 men proselytes to his own opinions, but we ex- 
 changed no word of politics together. He took 
 me to one of the public institutions of the northern 
 city, and showed me there a splendid array of 
 MSS., and a most unique collection of Polynesian 
 curios. I admired them to the full, but it was only 
 from the curator that I learned that all these things 
 were Sir George Grey's gifts to Auckland. I have 
 long ago come to the conclusion that the game of 
 politics is about as little worth playing as any in 
 the world, and have grown to be absolutely in- 
 different to anybody's political opinions. Sir 
 George Grey is far more than a politician. He 
 
Sir George Grey 
 
 273 
 
 is a patriot, and a patriot of the best type, and 
 there are few men to whom the British colonies 
 owe a larger debt of gratitude. He used to own 
 a very beautiful house and estate at Kawa, and the 
 people of Auckland were made absolutely free of 
 it. Hundreds and hundreds of steamboat ex- 
 cursionists thronged unpatrolled and unwatched 
 through chambers crowded with beautiful and 
 costly curiosities, but Sir George himself assured 
 me that he had not only never missed the merest 
 trifle from his collection, but had never had any- 
 thing broken or misplaced. In his old age he has 
 retired to quieter quarters, has made over all his 
 rich collections to Auckland, and leads a life of 
 great simplicity. He still holds his place in 
 Parliament, and in spite of age still retains his 
 fine oratorical power. He was received quite 
 recently at Adelaide, where, half a century ago, he 
 occupied the ; ost of Governor, and there, for once, 
 his oratory failed him. The Nestor of the great 
 southern island was welcomed with an enthusiasm 
 so disturbing that he could only speak a few 
 broken words through tears. There are servants 
 of the Empire by the score who do work in our 
 far-off possessions which would make them 
 immortal if it were done at home, and whose 
 names are barely known to the English public. 
 Sir George Grey is one of these. 
 The next great figure which presents itself to my 
 
 H 
 
274 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 memory is that of Sir Henry Parkes. He was a 
 Warwickshire peasant to begin with, learned a handi- 
 craft, migrated to Australia, started a newspaper 
 there, threw himself into the vortex of politics, found 
 a seat in the Legislative Assembly, came to be 
 Minister, and finally was made Premier. This is 
 a wonQv^rful record, and it is one of the exceptional 
 glories ot the colonics that they have made such 
 a career possible. One would have to travel 
 very far indeed to find a more strongly marked 
 personality than that of Sir Henry Parkes. He 
 may be called strictly a self-educated man, and 
 though his written and reported speech is pure, 
 vigorous, and cultured, there linger yet in his 
 manner, and will always linger, certain traces of 
 the educational disabilities of his youth. He is 
 the bete noire of that Australian Thersites, the 
 Sydney Bulletin, which slangs him weekly with a 
 surprising constancy and vivacity. One might 
 have thought that in the course of a year or two a 
 weekly repetition of such fun as is to be got out of 
 a misplaced " h " would have palled alike upon 
 the satirist and upon the public, but with unfailing 
 regularity fifty-two times in every year the local 
 humorist tips his quill dagger with the venom of 
 the superfluous aspirate and stabs the Premier 
 with it. There are few men in the world who 
 have been so royally abused as Sir Henry Parkes, 
 and few men who have come through abuse with 
 
 
 .X 
 
Sir Henry Parkes 
 
 275 
 
 less damage to nerve tissue, fighting force, or good 
 temper. Until now he has been, in one respect 
 at least, an unmitigated blessing to New South 
 Wales. He has saved her from the commercial 
 canker of Protection, and although it seems more 
 than likely that the present colony will follow the 
 mistaken example of Victoria, the most distin- 
 guished champion of P'^ree Trade in Australia has 
 the satisfaction of seeing his own colony still in 
 the way of righteousness. 
 
 The student of the various problems the colony 
 has so far solved, and of the problems she still has 
 to face, might fairly point to the veteran Premier 
 of New South Wales as the most striking example 
 of the advantages the colonies afford to intellectual 
 powers which, in older countries, would not only 
 go without help, but might be finally, and even 
 fatally obstructed. It is quite easy to see now, 
 and cheap to proclaim the fact, that he is a born 
 leader and ruler of men. Even in his native 
 Warwickshire he could not' have failed to be 
 remarkable, but it is, of course, impossible to say 
 in what direction the obstructive force- would 
 have turned his powers. I saw enough of him to 
 learn that the rugged, forceful, yet kindly and 
 genial outside of the man is in complete accord 
 with his inward gifts and nature. His opponents 
 proclaim him a trickster, by which they really 
 mean no more than that he has generally out- 
 
 T 2 
 
 
2,^h 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 wittcd their own attempts at political juj^'j^lcry. 
 The Liberals of England denounced Disraeli in the 
 same terms, and the Tories of to-day employ them 
 in regard to Gladstone. The game of j)olitics, 
 the whole world over, is so rootcdly and un- 
 consciously dishonourable that the dispraises of 
 an enemy are but the reverse of the praises of a 
 friend. The Warwickshire peasant, before he 
 became Premier, and since that date, might have 
 found life a bitter business if it had not been 
 leavened through for him by a virile and enduring 
 sense of humour. Like Abraham Lincoln, he 
 loves and can tell a good story, and his sense of 
 fun relieves for him a good deal of the tedium of 
 official business. I was with him one day when, 
 in an up-country town, he was boarded by a 
 friendly deputation at the exit from the railway 
 depot. Some local functionary read an address of 
 portentous length, and the Premier, who was 
 already fatigued by a dreary railway journey, and 
 had yet heavy work that day before him, listened 
 for a while with a somewhat forlorn expression of 
 statesmanlike interest. The remorseless periods 
 droned on, and it was evident that the reader had 
 no intention of allowing his hearers to escape a 
 solitary paragraph of the lengthy MS. he carried. 
 A little Chinese boy, some six or seven years of age, 
 had somehow found his way through the crowd, 
 and stood bareheaded between the recipient of the 
 
Australian Federation 
 
 277 
 
 address and its presenter. His almond-shaped 
 eyes were fixed on the j:,Tizzh'd features of tlie 
 Premier, and he stared with all his soul. Parkcs 
 stood with his silk hat in his hand, wearily noddinpj 
 to the droning' periods, when his eye fell upon the 
 small celestial, nnd stoopinj:^ with a solemn 
 twinkle, he blotted the infant out of sif^ht with his 
 hat. He kept 'he hat on the child's head until 
 the address \ ms exhausted, and from the moment 
 when the jest occurred to him until the tiresome 
 function was over, he sparkled with a dry com- 
 placency. 
 
 It was my good fortune to be present at that now 
 famous meetinj^ at Tenterfield at which Sir Henry 
 chose to make his pronunciamcnto with rej^ard to 
 Australian federation, and I shall not readily 
 forget the enthusiasm his speech evoked. His 
 utterance was plain, straightforward, and con- 
 vincing, and the speaker's sterling belief in the 
 greatness of his theme and the propitious character 
 of the hour was strikingly evident. The excellent 
 choice of words, the masterly elaboration of 
 phrases which were obviously moulded whilst he 
 stood there upon his feet, were in some contrast 
 to the manner of his utterance. The voice was a 
 little veiled by fatigue and age. The massive 
 shoulders were a little bowed, but the huge head, 
 with its streaming wave of silver hair and beard, 
 was held as erect as ever. The rough, homely 
 
278 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 features were as eloquent as the words he spoke, 
 and the instinct of the natural fighting-man lit up 
 the ancient warrior's eye. The mere aspect and 
 manner would have been remarkable to a stranger 
 anywhere ; but there, where for the first time the 
 voice of an authoritative statesman gave soul and 
 utterance to the aspiration of a people, it was 
 truly memorable, and not without a touch of 
 sublimity. The petty jealousies of rival states will 
 yet fade away, the infinitesimal bickerings about 
 imported lemons and exported onions, which now 
 help to embitter a strife that is altogether puerile 
 in itself, will come to an end. And here was the 
 beginning of that better state of things which 
 every lover of the British race at the Antipodes 
 must hope for and believe in. 
 
 I had returned to Australia when the Federal 
 Convention met at Sydney as an outcome of the 
 speech of which I have just written, and of the 
 memorandum to his fellow Premiers with which 
 Sir Henry Parkes followed it. The Sydney 
 Convention did not do everything the most 
 sanguine of the Federationists desired, but it far 
 surpassed the expectations of the moderate. It 
 may be that in the pages of future historians 
 the tale of that convention's doings will read as 
 the first page of annals more glorious than any the 
 Old World has to show. For there, for the first 
 time in the story of the world, an attempt was 
 
Making an Empire 
 
 279 
 
 made to found an empire without the preliminary 
 of bloodshed. In that foolish and wicked isolation 
 from her children in which the mother country 
 chooses to live, England learned little, and perhaps 
 cared as little, about the convention, and near at 
 hand it took for some minds that air of unimport- 
 ance which is the mischief that lies in neighbour- 
 hood for commonplace people. I expressed at the 
 time, as well as I could, the thoughts with which 
 it inspired me. 
 
 Because they live among us, and we know 
 I'he unheroic detail of their days, 
 Since they and we move in familiar ways, 
 
 We scant the greatness of the deed they do. 
 
 But could the magic power of fancy throw 
 A t'.iousand years between, the work would loom 
 Vast on the spirit, big with hope and doom. 
 
 Sublime as any act yet wrought below. 
 
 They weld an empire, not in old world wise, 
 'Mid crash of war and clamour of armed men ; 
 But in calm conclave, where each citizen 
 
 May speak his share of truth with fearless eyes. 
 Blest State so founded. May their work be blessed, 
 
 And here at last the war-sick soul of man find rest. 
 
 Men say that if, ^ l.hin a reasonable time, these 
 aspirations should be realized. Lord Carrington, 
 the late Governor of New South Wales, would 
 probably be the man selected as the first Viceregal 
 ruler of the consolidated colonies. The new 
 fashion of sending out men of title as the represen- 
 tatives of the Crown, and of making the Viceregal 
 Court a reflex of what the English Court used to 
 be, is a source of delight to scores and a prompting 
 
28o 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 to dissatisfaction amongst thousands. But Lord 
 Carrington was unusually fortunate in his 
 administration, and is undoubtedly one of the 
 most popular of modern Governors. Whether he 
 has the greater diplomatic faculties, he has so far 
 had no opportunity of showing ; but he possesses 
 the lesser in perfection, and he owes the widespread 
 esteem and affection he secured as much to the 
 tact of the diplomat as to his inborn good-nature. 
 If democratic Australia is to have a titled English 
 representative at the head of its affairs at all, it 
 will have a man for whom it can entertain a 
 personal affection. The attempt to conciliate the 
 democracy by an occasional sprinkling of inferior 
 titles upon distinguished citizens is met with out- 
 spoken derision. As I have said already, Lord 
 Carrington lived in a Court, and courtiers say 
 smooth things. Shrewd as he is, and well as 
 he knows the people amongst whom he lived 
 for five years, he could hardly have offered a 
 poorer panacea than he proposed in a speech in 
 London shortly after his return. Outside the 
 Court fringe, the Australians not only refrain from 
 asking for titles, but have a cordial and, from their 
 own standpoint, a logical dislike of them. For 
 good or for ill, the country has made up its mind. 
 The democratic sentiment of Australia is profound 
 and immovable. 
 
 It is hard for a man of plain common sense to 
 
The Colonial Office 
 
 281 
 
 keep his temper in view of the ineptitude with 
 which the Colonial Office in London has dealt 
 with the magnificent interests confided to its care. 
 It is not a question of what the colonies are to us 
 at this hour, or even have been, until now. It is 
 a question of what they should be and might be in 
 the future, if their destinies were rightly ruled. 
 One of our statesmen said, probably as a mere 
 rhetorical flourish, that if England lost Australia 
 and New Zealand she would sink to the position 
 of a third-rate power. This is obvious nonsense. 
 It will be many years before they can be much 
 more than a source of affectionate anxiety to us, 
 but the possibilities of the future were incalculable. 
 Those possibilities have been muddled away with 
 a recklessness, ignorance, and folly which are 
 barely conceivable. For once in the history of 
 the world it was possible that a great race might 
 grow up free of those social hatreds which have 
 disturbed every section of the old world since a 
 time when history had not begun to be written. 
 British people were first in possession of the 
 whole band of Antipodean and Pacific islands. 
 Not a single European power would have raised a 
 hand in menace or a voice in protest had the 
 British flag been planted on every one of them. 
 Australian statesmen have always seen what was 
 coming, have always struggled against it ; ijut the 
 Colonial Office has been invincibly ignorant. 
 
282 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 France, in making New Caledonia the receptacle 
 of its human offscourings, has only followed the 
 example England set her. But nothing in the 
 world would have been easier than to forestall her 
 action. New Caledonia is now a perpetual thorn 
 in the side of Australia, and it might be a casus 
 belli any day. It is all very well to hope that it 
 may never prove so, but the possibility is there, 
 and the bare chance should never have been risked. 
 We have let in Germany on the north, and have 
 made possible another complication there. The 
 plague of the thing is that the responsible people 
 have never, from the first, been allowed to go 
 v/ithout warning. Sir Henry Parkes has some 
 fine and spirited lines which must have found an 
 echo in the hearts of many Australians : 
 
 "In other lands the patriot boasts 
 
 His standard borne through slaughter's flood, 
 Which, waving o'er infuriate hosts, 
 Was consecrate in fire and blood. 
 
 " A truer charm our flag endears, 
 Where'er it waves on land or sea ; 
 It bears no stain of blood and tears. 
 Its glory is its purity. 
 
 " God girdled our majestic isle 
 
 With seas far reaching east and west, 
 That man might live beneath His smile 
 In peace and freedom ever blessed." 
 
 That patriotic and beautiful hope might have 
 stood a chance of being fulfilled practically and to 
 the letter, had all chances of the growing power of 
 Australia being embroiled with the empires of old 
 
Colonization 
 
 283 
 
 Europe been wisely held aloof. As matters stand 
 the materials for conflagration have been even 
 painstakingly brought together, and if the fire 
 never breaks out, it will be more through luck than 
 judgment. 
 
 Another matter, on which opinion will be more 
 divided, is the question of practically unlimited 
 rights of self-government to the colonies. It is too 
 lace to discuss that question since the final surrender 
 of a few months back, but it may at least be 
 doubted whether it would not have been wiser to 
 have retained some powers of colonization. This 
 has grown to be a ticklish subject, and it is of 
 course quite hopeless to expect that Australia will 
 surrender the powers conferred upon her. Her 
 cry is, quite naturally, fo. greater corporate 
 freedom, and any attempt at restriction would be 
 angrily resented. But a wise and politic reserva- 
 tion was practicable not so many years ago, and 
 had it been put into force, it would have been 
 good both for the colonies and for England. It 
 is almost incredible that any overcrowded country 
 should have had possession of millions of miles of 
 virgin land, and should deliberately and with open 
 eyes have surrendered the right of state-aided 
 emigration from her own shores to those vast 
 possessions. Australia could refuse and would 
 refuse to accept any large nurnber of emigrants 
 from the old country, though plans might easily 
 
284 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 be constructed, by means of which the transfer of 
 population could be made without the slightest 
 danger of overflooding her labour market, and 
 with no prospect but one of benefit to both the 
 giver and the receiver. 
 
 I have insisted so strongly on the indifference of 
 the young Australian to England that I feel bound 
 to offer an illustration of the very different way of 
 thinking which distinguishes the original settler. 
 The story may serve to lighten a page which runs 
 some danger of growing too monotonously serious. 
 When I started on my two years of travel to the 
 Australias I left England by way of Plymouth 
 Sound. When the anchor was weighed it brought 
 with it a quantity of Devon mud and ooze, which, 
 in the course of a day or two, under a summer sun, 
 baked into stiffish earth. Half by way of a 
 sentimental joke, and half seriously, I took a cubic 
 inch or thereabouts of this English soil, placed it 
 in an envelope, and determined to carry that 
 morsel of Old England with me on my travels. 
 Many months after I was the guest of a pastoralist 
 away up country. 1 told him jestingly that I had 
 brought a bit of England with me, and he begged 
 excitedly to see it. I took it from my portmanteau, 
 opened the envelope, and displayed the relic. He 
 begged it from me so movingly that, had I attached 
 much more value to it than I did, I could have 
 found no other way than to surrender it. ** You'll 
 
A Proposal 
 
 285 
 
 be going back there/' he said, " and I never shall. 
 I've been away from home for sixteen years, and 
 I'd value that bit of Old England more than the 
 Kohinoor." When next I passed his way I found 
 that he had ridden sixty miles (out and home 
 again) to buy a little plush stand and a glass shade 
 for the precious trifle. A fact in the history of 
 another old settler breathes the same sentiment 
 this little story illustrates. At his commission a 
 ship came out from England in ballast. It carried 
 English earth, and on that he built his house and 
 planted his garden. One would naturally be 
 disposed to think that the sons of men like these 
 would grow to feel the distant homeland dearer 
 for its distance. 
 
 It seems rather pitiful that inertness on the one 
 side and a sentiment purely mistaken on the other 
 should rob Great Britain of the opportunity of 
 grappling at once with one of her most serious 
 and Jifficult problems. I am no statesman, and I 
 can see difficulties in the way of the scheme I 
 desire to propose, though I can find none that are 
 really insuperable in the nature of things. I offer 
 the scheme tentatively and with humility. Even 
 if it should prove to be worthless, I shall have 
 done a citizen's duty in offering it for public con- 
 sideration. The dread of emigration in the 
 colonial mind is excited only by the thought of a 
 sudden influx, and by the fear that England should 
 
286 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 attempt to dump down her poverty and rascaldom 
 on colonial shores, to the increase of a pauper class 
 already threatening to make itself visible, and to the 
 diminution of the current rate of wages, and the 
 lowering of the existing state of comfort. Possibly, 
 if a plan could be considered on both sides of the 
 world which, while depleting the English labour 
 market at home, should run no risk of overcrowd- 
 ing the colonies, it might, by a joint and willing 
 effort, be made to serve a double purpose. 
 
 Suppose, to begin with, that the Government of 
 New Zealand could be induced to appoint an 
 emigration committee. I choose New Zealand 
 because I am inclined to think that opposition 
 there would be less angry and rooted than else- 
 where. Imagine the committee seated in London 
 with ample powers to inquire into the physique, 
 history, and general status of every person who 
 was presented as a candidate for the advantages of 
 the scheme. Let it be understood that only 
 " live " men, as the Americans say, should be 
 appointed to sit on the committee, and that they 
 should do their duty. This would of course pre- 
 clude all possibility of the deportation of undesir- 
 able people. Suppose further that, when once the 
 committee has been formed, but before the 
 necessity has arrived for it to enter on its labours, 
 the New Zealand Government should appoint a 
 surveyor to choose a district as yet unopened, and 
 
A Proposal 
 
 287 
 
 that, this being done, roadmakers and the men 
 required for the first rough work of clearing should 
 be despatched from England. The plan would, 
 of course, have to be matured carefully beforehand 
 in most of its details, but for the present it is 
 enough roughly to indicate its general lines. The 
 roadmakers and clcarers would have to be accom- 
 panied by a carefully-allotted number of tc imsters, 
 wheelwrights, smiths, and carpenters. In a while, 
 an architect, builders, bricklayers, and other 
 handicraftsmen would follow. Villages would be 
 planned and built, and the whole appurtenances 
 of a thriving settlement would have to be provided : 
 schools, places of worship, shops, or, if it were 
 better thought of, one general co-operative store, 
 and to each of these as they grew, and only as 
 they grew, the chosen emigrants would be carried. 
 Behold in time, and in no great length of time, a 
 settlement of British bone, and brain, and sinew, 
 on land at present lying waste and useless. The 
 hub of the design is that there shall be no haste 
 about it, and that no creature shall be deported 
 until his presence on the settlement is needed, 
 until his place is prepared for him. 
 
 All this v'/ill take money. How is the money 
 to be found without overburdening a revenue 
 already sufficiently surcharged with liabilities ? 
 Thus. The New Zealand Government might 
 make over, for the time being only, the actual 
 
 
288 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 proprietorship of the plots selected. Holding this 
 security, the home Government could advance all 
 necessary financial aid. The settlers might pay 
 such a rental as shall be calculated to repay the 
 original outlay and its interest, say in twenty years. 
 At the expiry of that time the settler should enter 
 on the fee simple of the soil, and the British Govern- 
 ment should relinquish its claim upon it. By this 
 means, at only a temporary cost, the settlement 
 would have been founded and the emigrants would 
 be placed in possession of a cheap and valuable 
 freehold. The new country would have within her 
 boundaries a yeoman population of the utmost 
 value. 
 
 The scheme could be worked continuously. 
 The selector would be always ahead of the makers 
 of roads and the clearers of the land. They, in 
 their turn, would always be ahead of architects, 
 builders, and handicraftsmen. The selection 
 committee would sit en permanence. The influx 
 would be graded, and would serve as a constantly 
 increasing stimulus to existing manufactures and 
 trades. The beginnings might be made on a small 
 scale, and as the experiment was found to answer 
 the motion might be accelerated until such ame as 
 the land subjected to this peaceful and beneficent 
 invasion should cry " Hold ! " 
 
 New Zealand has at present, roughly speaking, 
 the land of Great Britain and the population of 
 
The Future 
 
 289 
 
 ,ly. 
 ers 
 
 in 
 ;ts, 
 ion 
 
 ux 
 
 tly 
 
 ,nd 
 all 
 er 
 as 
 
 of 
 
 Glasgow. By force of climate she is marked out 
 as the home of such characteristics of the Anglo- 
 Saxon race as we are specially proud to call 
 ** British." She will rise to greatness in one way 
 or another, and by the adoption of some such 
 method as is here suggested she might accelerate 
 her rise. If Australia could anyhow be persuaded 
 to adopt such a method of increasing her popula- 
 tion and developing her resources, the question of 
 an overcrowded labour market both for herself 
 and England might be staved off for a thousand 
 years, by which time, it is to be humbly hoped, 
 the collective wisdom of the world will have dis- 
 covered some way of escape from the countless 
 unintentioned wrongs which society inflicts upon 
 the greater number of its members. The world is 
 not ill-hearted, and needs but to learn how to be 
 comfortable. Unless many men and books do lie, 
 there is a million or so of square miles in Australia 
 at present incapable of supporting a creature, 
 which might, by human effort, be made to flourish 
 like a garden. We who write and read to-day will 
 not live to see it, but the marvellous underground 
 rivers will be tapped, and blessing will be poured 
 upon a thirsty land. The secret is known already, 
 and scattered enterprise is gathering wealth from it 
 in many places. It will be by no means surprising 
 if even that alleged over-sweetness of some of 
 the Australian underground streams, which has 
 
 u 
 
ago 
 
 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 so far made their waters barren of blessing, 
 should some day be corrected by the aid of science. 
 
 I have dared to be outspoken, and here and 
 there I have little hope that I have escaped offence. 
 But I have never doubted the future of the 
 Antipodean colonies. 
 
 The children of Enf^land will form a compact 
 with the old lady who bore them and sent them 
 forth into the world. There is no brag in it — the 
 history of a thousand years has declared the fact — 
 the Anglo-Saxon English-speaking race is the salt 
 of the earth. Its whole tendency has been upward 
 towards the divine ideal of all great minds. It is 
 the dominating influence of the world at this hour. 
 Should it federate to-morrow, it could police the 
 planet, and bid wars to end. 
 
 Here — to wind up with — is a mere set of verses 
 which roughly expressed my mind when these 
 pages were written. The suggested title was 
 " A Possible Colloquy," and I dedicated the 
 lines to the members of the Australi^.xi Natives' 
 Association — the gentlemen who desired to "cut 
 the painter " and sail away from the old land : — 
 
 The lanky lad, as vain as shy, 
 
 And full of inward strife, 
 Regards, with half-defiant eye, 
 
 The author of his life. 
 He knows, or thinks he knows, his plan, 
 
 Dictation drives him mad ; 
 He'll take no chaff from any man, 
 
 And least of all from Dad ! 
 
No Longer PRonAHLE 
 
 291 
 
 IS 
 
 LS 
 
 le 
 
 " Confound the patronizing tone 
 
 These worrying,' oMstcrs use ! 
 We're blj,' cnouxli to stand alone, 
 
 Six feet without our shoes. 
 Thump ! There's a manly pectoral swell ! 
 
 And feel the heart below ! 
 And- as for sa^'e experience— well, 
 
 We'll gain that as we go. 
 
 " Each dog his day. The turn is ours, 
 
 Australia takes her fling ! 
 You think to tie those growing powers 
 
 To any apron string .-* 
 Who but a peddling time-worn fool 
 
 Would prison thews and brain 
 Like these in any old dame school 
 
 With any hope of gain .'' ' 
 
 W W "W w w 
 
 " We part, hot heart ? Well, well. Good day. 
 
 How could I be your foe ? 
 Dear lad, go on your prosperous way, 
 
 God with you as you go. 
 And whether you may hate or praise 
 
 Tiic cast-off father's name, 
 One thing I know — in all your days 
 
 You'll never bring it shame. 
 
 " Your heart is of that stalwart stuff 
 
 That pulses Britain's blood ; 
 The mould's the same old rough and tough, 
 
 No better, yet as good. 
 Go ! Live your day and i we your fling. 
 
 And when you're fully grown 
 I think your British heart will bring 
 
 The wanderer to his own. 
 
 " No blame. Not half a word of blame : 
 
 No wrong, or thought of wrong : 
 This only : choose your boyhood's aim 
 
 High, since your arm is strong. 
 Your head will counter in the dark 
 
 On many a solid wall ; 
 And many a shaft will seek its mark 
 
 And fall to reach, and fall. 
 
 U 2 
 
2g2 The Cockney Columbus 
 
 " Though strength and youth and hope conspire 
 
 To animate your soul, 
 Your heart may droop, your feet may tire 
 
 Before you reach your goal. 
 But Wilful must if Wilful will ; 
 
 God bless you, lad ; good-bye. 
 At least we're son and father still, 
 
 Anu r-nst be till I die." 
 
 Only six years since there was a possibility of 
 such an ending. To-day it se«.ms remote indeed, 
 and the words which record its likelihood have no 
 more interest than attaches to a land-mark. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 
 GII.BBET AHD HIVINaTOK, ST. JOHN'S KOUBB, CLBRKBITWELL, B.C. 
 
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