Bush-Lost Babies’
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FROM ‘BABES IN THE WOOD’ TO ‘BUSH-LOST BABIES’ THE DEVELOPMENT OF AN AUSTRALIAN IMAGE KIM LYNETTE TORNEY Submitted in total fulfilment of the requirements of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy December 2002 Department of History The University of Melbourne ABSTRACT In this thesis I argue that the image of a child lost in the bush became a central strand in the Australian colonial experience, creating a cultural legacy that remains to this day. I also argue that the way in which the image developed in Australia was unique among British-colonised societies. I explore the dominant themes of my thesis—the nature of childhood, the effect of environment upon colonisers, and the power of memory—primarily through stories. The bush-lost child is an image that developed mainly in the realms of ‘low’ culture, in popular journals, newspapers, stories and images including films, although it has been represented in such ‘high’ cultural forms as novels, art and opera. I have concentrated on the main forms of its representations because it is through these that the image achieves its longevity. Understandings of childhood have always been central to the power of the image of the bush-lost child. I examine the development of attitudes towards children and childhood in Australia from the earliest days of settlement to the beginning of the First World War, through several main strands of children’s experiences—work, education and health. The story and image of the ‘Babes in the Wood’ was brought to Australia with its colonial settlers. I trace its development and assimilation into the folklore culture of Britain from the late sixteenth century to the nineteenth century, and consider other European influences. It was adopted from the parent culture by European settlers to represent an Australian colonial experience and was then progressively translated into the assertively Australian image of ‘Bush-lost Babies’. I consider other comparable settler colonies in America, Canada and New Zealand to develop my argument that the identification with the lost child image was unique to Australia, and that the other settler-colonies were dominated by the image of the captive child. This examines the power of cross-culturally transmitted attitudes towards Indigenous peoples in Britain and its colonies, including Australia. The bush search scenario, and the way in which it came to be regarded as an affirmation of community, were rapidly associated with the image of the bush- lost child. I examine this development primarily through close studies of several different lost-child incidents. Various memorialisations of bush-lost children fitted into the wider process of memorialising the past in Australia. My consideration of this involves an exploration of expressions of grief at the loss of young people before World War I, and the change in national understandings of loss after this time. The 1960 story of ‘Little Boy Lost’, which received intense national attention, forms the core of the concluding chapter in which I argue for the continuing currency of the bush-lost child image in modern Australia. ii iii This is to certify that (i) the thesis comprises only my original work towards the PhD, (ii) due acknowledgement has been made in the text to all other material used, (iii) the thesis is less than 100, 000 words in length exclusive of tables, maps, bibliographies and appendices. Signed:………………………. Date:…………………... iv ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I have had the generous help of many people in completing this thesis, and it is impossible to thank them all personally. I owe a large debt of gratitude to the many helpful librarians and archivists in various libraries and collections in Australia, England, New Zealand and the United States of America. Many people have buoyed me up by their interest in this topic, and generously taken time from their own researches to send me relevant references or suggest where material may be found. Among them are Helen Doyle, Elizabeth Graham, Cheryl Griffin, Nikki Henningham, Jan Kociumbas, Rick Hosking, Rob Foster, Phillipa Mein-Smith, Jan Gothard, Meg Tasker, Susan Martin, John Barnes, Marjorie Theobald, Rhyll Nance, John Ryan, Graham Wilson, Robert Smith, Juliet Flesch and Jane Beer. I am indebted to Peter Pierce, Gary Presland and Amanda Nettelbeck, who all very kindly allowed me to read their fascinating works at pre-publication. Colleen Wernicke and Kathy Matthews provided invaluable and patient technical assistance. I want to thank John Hirst for suggesting many years ago that I look at this topic. I must also thank my wonderful supervisors, Stuart Macintyre and Kate Darian-Smith. Stuart encouraged me to believe that it was a reasonable topic to pursue through a PhD, and has been unfailingly helpful (and infallible) in his suggestions. Kate’s cheerful, enthusiastic and knowledgeable support has been my constant lifeline; she saved me from foundering in a sea of material. My largest debt of gratitude is owed to Michael and Jane who have lived with this project for many years. They have cheerfully accompanied me in the search for obscure memorials and places in Australia and overseas. They have sympathised in my researching frustrations, listened patiently to my ideas, and made helpful suggestions. They have uncomplainingly put up with my disappearances from family life to write, and provided delicious meals to keep me alive. Without them there would not have been a thesis. Special thanks to Rufus and Stella, my constant companions. v TABLE OF CONTENTS Page no. Introduction 1 Chapter One Children and Childhood in 16 Colonial Australia Chapter Two From ‘Babes in the Wood’ to 64 ‘Bush-lost Babies’ Chapter Three Lost Children and Captivity 93 Narratives in Other Settler Societies Chapter Four Lost Children and Captivity 126 Narratives in Australia Chapter Five Bush Searches 178 Chapter Six Commemorations of the lost 218 Conclusion ‘Little Boy Lost’: An image for 248 Modern Australia Bibliography 263 vi ILLUSTRATIONS After page 1 ‘Lost’ (1886), Frederick McCubbin Frontispiece 2 Information board at Wayland Wood, 1999 71 3 Town symbol of Watton incorporating 72 ‘Babes in the Wood’ imagery 4 Town sign of Griston, ‘home’ to the ‘Babes 72 In Wood’ story 5 Signpost to the Caravan Club grounds adjacent 71 to Wayland Woods 6 Hannah Cooper (Duff) holding a baby 76 (possibly Jane), standing outside a slab hut 7 Members of the party involved in the search 77 for the Duff children 8 Sketch by A.W. Howitt of Liddiard’s hut, in 193 the Dandenong Ranges 9 Sketch map by A.W. Howitt of the area in which 196 Lewis Vieusseux was lost 10 Memorial to Jane Duff 237 11 Headstone on grave of Jane Duff in Horsham 238 Cemetery 12 Information board in the shelter of the Jane 239 Duff Highway Park 13 Memorial to the ‘Three Lost Children’ in 243 Daylesford Cemetery 14 Cairns and a plaque marking the starting and end 245 points of the journey of the ‘Three Lost Children’, Daylesford vii Introduction Frederick McCubbin’s well-known painting ‘Lost’ (1886), seen in the frontispiece, would appear at first glance to be a gentle episode. The young girl is depicted standing in a relatively open area of bush, carrying flowers in her apron—she could be simply resting before heading home. The bush is neither dark nor overpowering but a soft, misty space, and the child does not seem overtly distressed. Yet I contend that the subject of painting would be immediately obvious to most Australians without any reference to the title, because the internal filter of common cultural history would render the image quite clearly a depiction of a young girl lost in the bush. Most Australians would immediately recognise the implicit threat contained in the scene. All the elements of the painting—the child on her own, one hand up to her eyes, holding up an apron full of the wildflowers for which she has searched deep into the bush, and the enveloping, obscuring nature of the bush itself—lead to one overriding interpretation, that this is a lost child. I am concerned to explore the ways in which the image of a child lost in the bush became a central and unique strand in the Australian colonial experience, creating a cultural legacy that remains to this day. The lost child has not remained merely as an image from the colonial past. It has continued as a thread in Australian literature and art throughout the twentieth century, and the current exploration of the theme in contemporary works such as Andrew Bovell's play Holy Day (2001)1, the film One Night the Moon (2001),2 and the novel Angel Rock (2002),3 suggests a heightened perception of the importance of this image within Australian society. Even the most problematic of Australia’s lost child stories—that of baby Azaria Chamberlain’s disappearance from the Uluru camping ground in 1980—has 1 Reviewed in the Age, 17 September 2001, 'Today', p. 5; 23 September, p. 9. 2 One Night the Moon, director Rachel Perkins, 2001. 3 Darren Williams, Angel Rock, Harper Collins, London, 2002. This novel deals with two, intertwined stories of lost children. The young boys become lost in the traditional sense, taking a wrong turn on a country road. While they are lost, the younger boy is taken and held captive by an evil adult, a figure who dominates the second section of Pierce’s The Country of Lost Children, discussed a little later in this chapter. recently been revisited in the opera, Lindy (2002).4 The figure of the black tracker, who became an integral component of the stories of children lost in the bush, has also received close contemporary attention, notably in the films One Night the Moon, Rabbit Proof Fence (2002)5 and The Tracker (2002).6 The image of childhood vulnerability took compelling form in the 1997 Bringing Them Home report, which documented the results of long-term government policies of the forcible separation of Indigenous children from their parents.7 The deeply personal oral testimony to this inquiry, which was widely circulated, was enormously powerful and heightened attention on the state of children, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, as a barometer of national health.