My Newest Favourite Thing: Galeanthropy

Penelope pretending to be a cat

I have learned a new word, which I absolutely love.

Galeanthropy: A mental condition of thinking that one has become a cat, usually manifest in the adoption of feline mannerisms and habits.

I think Penelope may have it. That is all. 

Le Carre's Last Stand: Agent Running in the Field

Agent Running in the Field by John Le Carré

Viking

Pp. 281

The last book that John Le Carré wrote is, perhaps unsurprisingly, a fast-paced action with a clear story and credible characters. Themes of espionage, defection and loyalty may have seemed passé, but nationalism and protectionism are once again current: the old enemy is back, reinvented as the new enemy and we may need to defend our nation and concepts of freedom and democracy all over again from plutocrats like Putin. The novel is crammed full of code names and secret spy business, played out against a backdrop of Brexit, Trump and greedy oligarchs in a contemporary environment.

Nat is a forty-seven-year-old veteran of Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service who plays badminton and lives a pleasant and seemingly settled life in London with his wife, Prue, who does pro bono legal work for worthy causes. He is somehow manoeuvred into playing badminton at his exclusive private club against a young upstart, Edward Shannon, who has ideas, and he is not afraid to expound them. With an older mentor’s indulgent attitude, Nat finds himself looking forward to these meetings, although the book is written in retrospect as he reflects upon them.

The premise is that Trump has helped to engineer Brexit so that Britain has to rely on Russia for financial and political assistance, which is obviously going to be grubby, and be beholden to the USA once again. Tellingly, Trump does Putin’s dirty work for him: “pisses on European unity, pisses on human rights, pisses on NATO. Assures us that Crimea and Ukraine belong to the Holy Russian Empire, the Middle East belongs to the Jews and the Saudis, and to hell with the world order.”

There may possibly be “an Anglo-American covert operation already in the planning stage with the dual aim of undermining the social democratic institutions of the European Union and dismantling our international trading tariffs.” This operation will also “disseminate fake news on a large scale in order to aggravate existing differences between member states of the Union.” One former spy is horrified to think that he risked his life to see the Great British Empire, liberal conscience and Christian values replaced by “a cartload of hypocritical horseshit”. In present circumstances, division and in-fighting will not be difficult to engineer.

The language of spies follows form: a newspaper in which hand determines whether it is safe to talk or not; letters written suggest the opposite of what is declared. There is, however, a refreshing respect for women, which is often absent from male hard-boiled thrillers. The novel is elevated by its use of witty and decisive one-liners to describe characters and actions. For example, one high-ranking official has a “cheery port-and-pheasant voice”, while another “doesn’t do confrontation, which is something we both know. His life is a sideways advance between things he can’t face.”

At 281 pages the novel is shorter than many of Le Carré’s previous heavyweight thrillers, but it is engrossing and entertaining, packed with set pieces, old tropes and new angles. We live in a world of surveillance and, while anyone may express almost anything on the surface, there are people watching our utterances and manipulating our movements, biding their time until we can become useful to support a pet project. Gripping stuff.

With a Pinch of Salt

I've been thinking about my post last week, and what an incongruity there is between the epergne that was awarded to the Campbells, and the bushrangers who attacked them in their home. I am often inspired by the authors I read and I am currently reading both 1788: Comprising of A Narrative of the Expedition to Botany Bay and A Complete Account of the Settlement at Port Jackson by Watkin Tench, and Diary of a Somebody by Brian Bilston. 

While describing the behaviour of the convicts in Port Jackson, Tench lamented that they were punished for stealing food. Rations were systematically reduced as food was scarce, but the convicts still had to toil for long hours in high temperatures "without adequate refreshment." Those who stole food were frequently flogged and chained together. Tench decries, 

"The first step in every community which wishes to preserve honesty should be to set the people above want. The throes of hunger will ever prove too powerful for integrity to withstand."

This is as true now as it was in 1788, or in 1864 when the bushrangers stole from the landowners. And it seems trenchantly symbolic that the victims were awarded an ornament designed for displaying and sharing condiments in turn created to enhance and complement fancy food. With this and the pithy wit of Brian Bilston 'the poet laureate of Twitter' in mind, I crafted the following (with apologies to both).

You were always keen as mustard,

To spice things up,

Not to curry favour

But to rub salt in the wounds.

So you got us all in a pickle

Then sat back gingerly

All big cheese and toffee-nosed,

As though butter wouldn't melt.  

The Campbell Epergne

When I visited the Orange Regional Museum a couple of years ago, I was struck by this decorative table piece (not literally - it was displayed behind glass). I read that the national Cultural Heritage Account had assisted the museum with the purchase of this item to the tune of $90,000. I thought that was a fair whack for a candlestick, so I read all the information about it - turns out it is quite the icon, so here are the facts, as presented by the museum.

"This sterling silver epergne was presented to David and Amelia Campbell of Goimbla, Eugowra in 1864 by residents of the district to mark their respect and admiration for her role in defending her family's property. The gift was in recognition of the heroism shown by Mrs Campbell and her husband in resisting an attack on their property Goimbla by Ben Hall, Johnny Gilbert, and John O'Meally. The bushrangers attacked the property and set the Campbell's barn and stables on fire. O'Meally was killed in the attack.

The epergne is a decorative table centrepiece which stands 72cm high and was made in London in 1862 by Thomas Smily. The epergne was purchased from Hardy Brothers Sydney for £150 with funds raised by community subscriptions. Modelled in a rococo revival style, the epergne has a tri-form base with leaf feet, scrolls and beading, rising to a naturalistic trunk with six scrolling arms, three with candle fittings and three supporting loop-handled baskets with a centre basket. The entire epergne is ornately decorated with vines and grapes.

Although the inscription is to both David and Amelia Campbell, contemporary accounts of the presentation event describe Mr Campbell being given a gold watch, now in the State Library of NSW, while the epergne was a gift to Mrs Campbell along with a silver-plated coffee urn inscribed by the ladies of Upper and Middle Adelong, and a printed silk address signed by 92 male residents of Forbes and District. The presentation of these lavish gifts was made at Goimbla in October 1864.

David and Amelia Campbell (taken from a lantern slide: National Museum of Australia)

Approximately 16 gold and silver bushranger medals were presented to police and members of the public to mark their heroism during encounters with bushrangers. This is the only presentation-epergne associated with bushranger attacks and the only presentation made to a woman. Its delicacy of design and execution has a particularly feminine character. 

Amelia Campbell was lauded as a 'daughter of Australia - a lady brought up and educated in Sydney who did not flinch under gunfire.'

Her heroism is emblematic of the often-overlooked dangers of many women living on lonely farms in regional Australia. Sadly, other women who stood their ground and fended off attacks by bushrangers received little public recognition. This epergne represents an important aspect of Australian colonial history and is one of the most notable and significant items of nineteenth-century Australian women's history."

From the 1840s attacks by bushrangers and acts of resistance prompted public recognition in the form of testimonial gifts. In addition to cash gifts as compensation for property losses, presentation items included watches, gold medals, firearms, and written testimonials. 

The attack on Goimbla and Mrs Campbell's courage in particular marked a turning point in public sentiment towards the Ben Hall gang, who had until then received covert support from some settlers through the exchange of horses and food. The bushrangers' decision to shoot at Amelia Campbell was likely a major factor in undermining whatever trust or passive support existed for the gang. 

In 1865 the Felons Apprehension Act effectively declared bushrangers outlaws and shortly afterwards Ben Hall was shot dead. 

Ben Hall 

As for Amelia Campbell, she died in childbirth at the age of 34 along with one of the twins she had given birth to. The notes in the museum record that 'The other twin lived only for a few months. This followed her losing a son at ten years of age. This was a very sad end for a very heroic woman.'

I feel this is the purpose of museums: to tell stories through objects and relate the history of past events to the current perception of the society.

Friday Five: Books Read in September

 

And yet again it seems I have read five books in a month. Here are the September offerings:

5 Books Read in September:

1. Astoria: John Jacob Astor and Thomas Jefferson's Lost Pacific Empire by Peter Stark (Ecco) - When there was such a thing as the wild wild West, men thought they could make their fortune by pushing through to the far frontier. It turns out they were wrong. In 1810 John Jacob Astor, the richest man in New York with the backing of Thomas Jefferson, sent out two advance parties to trade in furs and establish a township on the so-far unclaimed coast of North America. More than half of the men died violent deaths; the rest suffered starvation and madness. The colony was a disaster but its legacy was immense, opening the eyes of provincial Americans to the potential of the Western coast and discovering the route that was to become the Oregon Trail. Peter Stark writes in fascinating detail with compelling research to underpin his narrative and expand upon these adventures.  
2. By Blood by Ellen Ullman (Farrar, Straus and Giroux) - When a disgraced former professor overhears his psychiatrist neighbour's conversation with a client, he decides to 'help'. His research into her background leads to information which he shares with her anonymously, such as the fact that her birth mother was a survivor of the Holocaust. Is his intervention a kind assistance or a disturbing need to control? Like a Gothic version of 'Who Do You Think You Are?', the writing is mix of Kafka and Poe with a curiously detached and unreliable narrator who nudges the plot along by drip-feeding his findings into the client's consciousness. This is an intriguing novel about the impossibility of certainty and the fragility of belief.
3. The Winter Sea by Di Morrissey (Macmillan) - This novel is pure escapism and wish fulfillment. A woman decides to leave her high-paid but unsatisfying legal job and husband in Sydney for a holiday on the coast. On a whim she buys a dilapidated restaurant and turns it into a roaring success with the help of the local fishing community. The spanner in the works (of course there has to be one) is in the form of a historic family incident with far-reaching repercussions. Because it's a typical holiday read there is a caring community for affirmation, an abandoned dog for company, and a handsome vet for romance. It contains a lot of stereotypes which are completely undemanding.
4. Wanderers: A History of Women Walking by Kerri Andrews (Reaktion Books) - When women have walked alone in the past they have been considered unfeminine and odd. More recently they have been labelled vulnerable or provocative (just consider the term 'streetwalker'). Kerri Andrews shares the rambles of ten women who have incorporated their walks into their world through their writing, from Dorothy Wordsworth and Virginia Woolf to Anais Nin and Cheryl Strayed. Walking allows time for contemplation and reflection; it can be companionable or solitary; and in certain climates, it can still be considered dangerous. The collection opens up avenues of further reading (I'm going to check out the works of Nan Shepherd), but there is a touch too much authorial intrusion - if we have the women's' diaries, we are privy to their thoughts without the need for further explanation or, in the words of My Cousin Rachael when we read this for Family Book Group, "a bit A-Level course work". 
5. The Yield by Tara June Winch (Hamish Hamilton) - Language is one of the most important means of preserving and communicating culture. In this prize-winning novel (Miles Franklin Literary Award 2020), Tara June Winch spells out the crucial need to collect the words of the Wiradjuri people and pass on the secrets of generations. Just as a mining company threatens the environment at Massacre Plains, the authorised history endangers the true heritage of the people who have cared for the land for millennia. By proving the cultural connection to country, the survivors might just be able to save their way of life. Words have meaning on multiple levels and this incredible novel digs deep to find them. 

My Newest Favourite Thing: Parramatta Pathway

Warning: Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this post contains names and depictions of deceased persons.

A few weeks ago I was in Parramatta for work, and as I went for a morning jog along the Parramatta River, I stumbled (quite literally) across this intriguing mural that snaked its way along the path. The artwork was designed, hand-painted and installed by artist Jamie Eastwood, a descendant of the Ngemba people of far northwestern NSW. 

It gives a snapshot of the history of Parramatta from before 1788 to the present day from an Aboriginal perspective. The salt water and fresh water met in the Parramatta area, making the river an important place for food, and a place for meeting and trade between the clan groups of the Darug nation. The paintings tell of early conflicts between settlers and the Darug clanspeople, their resistance to colonial domination, the mistreatment of the Stolen Generations, and recent efforts towards reconciliation. The artist's vision states,

"I hope that the pathway artworks will provide an insight into some aspects of Parramatta's history prior to colonisation, the significance associated with the area and give recognition to the Burramattagal people and neighbouring clans that originally occupied the area. This will create community awareness  from an Indigenous viewpoint. Apart from providing cultural education, I hope that the pathway will provide something beautiful that will flow with the riverine environment."

Another sign explains a little about the Aboriginal art in NSW , which includes richly-decorated cave paintings, engravings on rock shelters, carved designs on living trees, body decorations, and painted and carved designs on wooden weapons and tools. Although cultural traditions and spirituality was associated with most of the artwork, some artwork was made for decorational purposes alone. The design and figures depicted varied across the state, often including human figures, animals, fish and white or red hands of cave-dwelling people. 

It goes on to explain that evidence of the ancient and rich artistic and religious traditions of Australian Aboriginal people still exist in special places and locations across NSW. These significant and ancient sites should be protected for future generations. Aboriginal art continues to flourish in NSW. Contemporary Aboriginal art has responded to the urban environment, blending traditional images of the past with modern colours and design of today. 

Before the arrival of Europeans in 1788, the Sydney area was occupied by three different Aboriginal tribal groups: the Dharug; Kurinngal; and Dharawal. Each group had its own recognised territory which they associated with a particular ancestral dreaming animal or totem. The Burramattagal clan who lived in the Parramatta area were members of the Dharug group, and associated the eel as its totem. The word Parramatta (first used in June 1791) is derived from the name Burramatta. Burramatta is based on the Aboriginal word burra meaning eel. A literal translation of Burramaata is place where the eels lie down. 

Some species of eel migrate from the salt water to fresh water to spawn and the name Burramatta is probably associated with the eel migration up the Parramatta River. Parramatta is located at the meeting point of salt and fresh waters which historically was in the vicinity of Barry Wilde Bridge; the meeting of salt and fresh water is now at Charles Street Weir.

Across Australia, Aboriginal people lived by hunting, fishing and collecting a wide variety of plants. In the inland rivers fishing was aided by spears, hand lines and traps. Spears usually had four prongs made from bone or ironwood. Hand lines were made from hair or bush fibres twined into a string. Traps were built from logs, stones or bush brush set across rivers or creeks, taking advantage of the tides and seasonal migration of certain fish (mainly mullet and bream) and eels. 

With the establishment of a European settlement at Parramatta, the Burramattagal clan was devastated by introduced diseases such as influenza, measles and the 1789 smallpox epidemic. By 1830 there were no known survivors of the Burramattagal clan. 

The circles depicted in this section of the pathway represent the Burramattagal and neighbouring clans who lived in the Parramatta area. The largest circle represents the Burramattagal camp site where the three smaller circles represent the neighbouring clan and their camp sites - the Tugagal clan at Toongabbie, the Watergoro clan at Duck Creek and the Wangal clan at Rose Hill.

For tens of thousands of years Australian Aboriginal people lived in harmony with the land. In 1788, the ships Sirius and Supply, along with six transport vessels and three store ships sailed into Botany Bay. The white people would have looked like ghostly spirits, frightening the Aboriginal people who first saw them.  Their arrival marked the beginning of the invasion of the Aboriginal way of life, land and culture. The Aboriginal culture, one of the oldest on earth, was suddenly changed almost overnight. 

While initial contact between the Aboriginal people and early settlers was friendly, conflict was soon to follow as the Aboriginal people were dislocated from their land and felt the effects of colonial settlement on the environment and their way of life. Many Aboriginal people in showing their disapproval of the new conditions fought to retain their land and culture. 

Baludarri befriended Governor Phillip and lived at Government House, Sydney, from late 1790 to early 1791. Baludarri left Government House to join other Aboriginal people on a seasonal fishing trip in the vicinity of Parramatta. He began to trade fish with residents of Parramatta after Governor Phillip encouraged the local tribes to exchange their surplus catch for food and other goods. 

While Baludarri was trading fish in Parramatta, convicts destroyed his canoe. Baludarri was enraged by the act and sought revenge on the offenders. Governor Phillip intervened and assured Baludarri that the convicts would be punished while in return Baludarri was made to promise that he would not kill white men. Baludarri, according to Aboriginal pay-back tradition, thought that vengeance belonged to him, and speared a convict. When Governor Phillip heard of the spearing, he ordered that Baludarri be outlawed and shot on sight, but he relented on hearing that Baludarri was ill with fever. When Baludarri dies in 1791, he was buried in the Governor's garden in Sydney.

While Sydney was the initial centre for the first wave of settlers, the newcomers rapidly spread to Parramatta. In the area around Sydney, the Erora Tribe fought to maintain their land. The conflict and hostility spread to Parramatta and the outer settlements of Prospect and Toongabbie where a savage war between the Aboriginal people and white settlers was fought between 1771 until 1805.

Although Aboriginal people defended their land ferociously, they were fighting a war against large numbers of armed troops. The Aboriginal people did not have rifles or guns and were also at a disadvantage in numbers and speed of travel. This imbalance ended any resistance to the rapid take-over of their land by the colonialists. 

The Aboriginal warrior Pemulwuy became a central figure in the frontier conflict when he speared and killed Governor Arthur Phillip's gamekeeper, John McIntyre, in revenge for the gamekeeper's involvement in the murder of a number of Aboriginal people. Although Governor Phillip previously had a respectful relationship with Pemulwuy, he responded angrily to the killing of the gamekeeper. Phillip dispatched fifty soldiers with orders to bring back the heads of any six men belonging to Pemulwuy's group. 

Pemulwuy's challenge to colonial authority lasted for twelve years until his death . During this time he led a series of attacks on farms in the Parramatta district, including a challenge to a stand off in the centre of Parramatta township. Pemulwuy was killed in 1802, and his decapitated head was sent to Sir Joseph Banks in England. After Pemulwuy's death Governor King described him as 'an active, daring leader'. 

In 1841 Governor Macquarie established Australia's first school for Aboriginal children at Parramatta known as the Native Institution. William Shelley, a former London missionary, became the first Superintendent. The intention of the Institution was to 'civilise' the Aboriginal people in the Sydney area and to induce Aboriginal people to follow the British way of life, settle down, take up agriculture and to become law-abiding Christians. It was also hoped to teach Aboriginal people arithmetic as well as to read and write. 

A total of thirty-seven pupils were admitted during the eight years that the Institution existed. Of this number, some pupils were captured and forced to attend. Others were attending due to strong pressure placed on their parents from government officials. The Institution had few amenities and separated the children from the outside world with fences. In the four months before the school closed in 1822 four students died and another four were sent home seriously ill. From an Aboriginal viewpoint, the Institution was a failure. 

The Institution, though short lived, set the pattern for future attempts at 'civilising' Aboriginal people. These attempts were based on protection in reserves and eventually the assimilation policy. Between 1930 and 1969 thousands of Aboriginal children were taken from their homes and placed in white institutions. The children are now known as the 'Stolen Generation'. The vast majority of these children never saw their parents or home territory again. Today many of these people are still searching for their lost past. 

This section of the pathway represents a very sad part of Australian history. It represents the Aboriginal children that were stolen from their parents and their homelands. This representation shows the children struggling to stay with their parents while they were being taken away by strangers or officers from the local authorities. 

In 1805 local Indigenous representatives and a local settler, John Kennedy, initiated a Peace conference at Parramatta to end hostility between Aboriginal people of the area and the settlers. It was described as 'a conference with a view of opening the way to Reconciliation'. This was one of the earliest uses of the word 'Reconciliation' in the Australian context and the first attempt at Reconciliation of Indigenous and non-Indigenous people in Australia. 

The Reconciliation process of the 1990s aims to improves the relationship between Aboriginal people and other Australians by creating a greater understanding of the heritage, culture, past dispossession and present disadvantages of Indigenous Australians. Part of that Reconciliation process is to foster a national ongoing commitment to address issues affecting Australian Aboriginal people during national events such as the Centenary of Australia's Federation and the republic debate. 

This section of the pathway represents Reconciliation - coming together to share and learn about Aboriginal culture and heritage. The message stick represents the passing on of knowledge so all Australians can share in a greater understanding of Australia's Indigenous heritage.

Elizabeth Street footbridge over Parramatta River

Friday Five: Cross Stitch Crew

And now for the final quintet from Our Country's Good, here are the cross stitches that I made for certain members of the crew. These are all lines spoken by the character I played, Mary (Dabby) Bryant. Based on a real woman from history, this character dreamed of returning to her native Devon, and in fact she did (although not in the play itself). Despite being unable to read, she conducts conversations about the nature of theatre and the meaning of plays, which add the meta-theatrical level to the production.

For one of the cross stitches I maintained the avian theme from previous works (the crimson rosella, because it is one of my favourites), but for the others I chose either the colours of the Aboriginal flag as a representative of this land, or those that remind me of Devon. At one point Dabby says, "I want to see a wall of stone. I want to hear the Atlantic breaking into the estuary", and she also exclaims, "Oh, give me some English rain. I could recognise English rain anywhere. And Devon rain... is the softest in England".

I gave this one to The Luminosity who was the Assistant Director and also ran several line-learning sessions

For the German Rep who made my basket of chicken props (pine cones with feathers). The character follows this up with, 'This is a very stupid line and I'm not saying it'.

Said at the end of the play as Dabby dreams of 'my future success'

For our Stage Manager, who did indeed see the whole play, several times

The conclusion of the above line, for our kind and generous prompt