The Incredible Journey
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The Incredible Journey Martin, Catherine (1848-1937) University of Sydney Library Sydney 2000 http://setis.library.usyd.edu.au/ozlit © University of Sydney Library. The texts and Images are not to be used for commercial purposes without permission Source Text: Prepared from the print edition published by Jonathan Cape, London 1923 All quotation marks are retained as data. First Published: 1923 Languages: Australian languages German French A823.89 M Australian Etexts aboriginal contact novels 1910-1939 women writers prose fiction The incredible journey London Jonathan Cape 1923 Introduction Australia, that unique continent with its queer monotremes and marsupials, has been colonized by two races at eras infinitely remote one from the other. The first comers were black men, who, in some instances, show a close resemblance to that prehistoric type known as the Neanderthal. Though the skull is so ape-like, yet philologists attest that in brain capacity it is little below that of the average European. The Australian aborigines are held to be of Asiatic (pre-Dravidian) origin. But from what centre they came, what ancient race dispersal led to their migration, and in what kind of craft they faced the formidable barriers that separated the old home from the new, no one can say. But they arrived, and their dogs with them. Whether, in the absence of pressure from other intruders, they stagnated below their earlier condition, whether they advanced in some respects, and retrograded in others, are questions wrapped in the mystery that shrouds so much of our wonderful world. The next migration to the continent was of a more dubious kind. A Volkerwanderung, even of the most primitive sort, is part of the trend of human history. But in the convict settlement of New South Wales we have the spectacle of a people disposing of a deplorably unfortunate section of their citizens, under conditions that were morally hopeless. “In point of expense, no cheaper mode of disposing of the convicts could be found,” was the consideration that weighed with Pitt in deciding on a Penal settlement at the Antipodes. This detachment from ethical responsibility for masses of the nation broken on the wheel of adversity is exemplified also in the utterance of another great statesman of the epoch. “The bulk of people must labour to gain what by labour can be obtained,” wrote Edmund Burke, “and when they find success disproportioned to endeavour, they must be taught their consolation in the final proportions of eternal justice.” There is a queer fascination in speculating how far consolations postponed to eternity would have sustained the eminent writer, if the pinch of his own life had reached the pangs of hunger. In the cause of liberty Burke held that Britain was the tutelary angel of the human race. It would seem that one of the gifts of the tutelary angel was the liberty to starve. Such an attitude on the part of those in power may have been an element in making the British people pre-eminent as colonizers. After New South Wales was transformed into a Colony, free settlers came to Australia in ever increasing numbers. The site of Melbourne was first occupied in 1835. In the Public Library of that city there is a document in which aboriginal chiefs—so-called—make over to John Bateman in return for blankets, food, beads, etc., about half a million acres of land. Nothing in opera bouffe can be richer in comedy than this treaty, with weird hieroglyphics standing for the signature of Jagajaga, Coloolock and Bubgarie, neither side to the bargain understanding a word the other spoke. A year later South Australia was proclaimed a British Colony under the Wakefield system. Not even the customary strings of beads seem to have changed hands on this occasion. A young Australian artist once drew a suggestive sketch of the scene. The new arrivals were gathered under the shade of a gum-tree, taking formal possession of the land. At a distance from them, some aborigines were huddled behind a ridge of sand near the sea- shore, where one of the Old Men of the tribe was supposed to make a short speech, that was transcribed on the margin of the sketch. “My inside is turned into water. They look as if they had come to stay. This country belongs to us. Here we have the right to walk about, to fish and to hunt; to say when the grass should be burned, and when the animals and the birds of the air should be killed. What will they give us, if they take all this?” Poor old man! He and his were gradually to learn that “all this” was taken over by the new comers, in the spirit of the Highlander who, when charged with taking a cow not his own, maintained that he did not steal the animal but took her in the sight of all men as his own. Queensland, the most extensive, and in some respects the most richly endowed of the States, came into independent existence in 1859. As the new arrivals gradually took possession of the coastal region the old inhabitants died off or retreated further inland. Their chief memorials are now found in the Museums of the cities, that have grown to surprising dimensions in a comparatively short period. But the time has gone by for Australians to exult in this. The growth is too reminiscent of the lion-cub that was the pride of the household until it became the terror of the inmates. It may seem strange that such increase in size and importance does so little, even in the largest cities, to stamp out the provincial spirit. Australia, however, is not only removed from contact with the old-world beyond all former precedent, but the elements inseparable from such remoteness are reinforced by the magnitude and singular geography of the continent. Thus each centre has a subtly woven tendency to be its own prime universe, immersed up to the ears in its own affairs. The inevitable prominence of material concerns in a new land make them more absorbingly one-sided. Things of world-wide interest—art, literature, abstract thought—have but a hunted and precarious existence. Men compromised by such matters acquire the reserve of devotees, whose faith is a sort of treason against the great Gospel of “getting on.” The more ideal pursuits are in the main regarded as exotics, to be treated like the mermaid found on the sea-shore by a Dutchman, who took her home, scraped the sea-weed from her skin, dressed her as a woman of Holland, and set her to spin and to bake bread. Even in the affairs of the market-place, there is often a narrower and more embittered spirit than elsewhere. Workers regard the Capitalist as a greedy and crafty parasite, that should be in some way eliminated from the social system. The Capitalist, on his side, looks on the Labour Party as a sort of heathen fortress, stuck all round with the Christian heads of employers, who have been slain to make a Paradise for working men. But this is too much like embarking on a “dim and perilous way.” It is better to get out into the country, and go Outback in a leisurely fashion. Some of the older agricultural districts, with wide wheat fields, varied by vineyards, by orchards and gardens, in their season swathed with mists of delicate blossoms, full of the hum of bees flocks and herds feeding here and there, have all the charm of scenes immortalized in the idylls of the old world. But the invariable background of trees gives a stamp of its own to the Australian landscape. The woods, too, largely composed of eucalypti, have a more sombre tone than in other lands. The eucalyptus has been acclimatized in so many countries that it now holds its own as a citizen of the world. Yet it is surprising how many remain ignorant of its claims to supreme distinction. In waterless country it is more like a spectre brooding on life than a living member of the vegetable kingdom. Indeed, in all places habitually dry, the spare form, the meagre foliage, the dull colouring—something in its outlines, as of concentrated detachment from a glancing gaiety mark the tree as a creature that has kept hold on existence through harrowing destitution. But close to water unvisited by drought, it rivals an English oak in the density of its gracious shade. For one of the most distinctive traits of the tree is its almost human responsiveness to any change of environment. In this it gives support to the belief that plants may be endowed with an instinct akin to consciousness. Each different contact produces some alteration of form, some divergence in the leaves, in the oil-dots, in the colour and veining; some diversity in the arrangement of the unique cup-formed blossom- buds, with closely fitting lids, whose appeal to the French naturalist's imagination led to the beautifully descriptive Greek name. This Protean quality has made the Eucalyptus the despair of classifiers, but to the mere laity such endless variations have a great fascination. The blossoms of the myrtle order, with a delicious fragrance, as of mingled syringa and wild honey, have more sameness of outline, but great fertility in shades of colour, from waxen white to deep cream, from faint pink to fiery flame. These gradations do not occur in the same soil, nor do the various kinds of the tree blossom in the same season. There is probably not a month in the year in which some may not be found somewhere in bloom.