Author Archives: residentjudge

School Days: Education in Victoria

If you have a spare hour in Melbourne city, pop along to the Old Treasury Building at the top of Collins Street to see their exhibition ‘School Days: Education in Victoria’.  Drawn from the voluminous archives of Education Department material placed at the Public Records Office of Victoria, the exhibition runs until 31 August, open Sunday to Friday (ie. closed Saturday) 10.00 a.m. to 4.00 p.m. and entry is free.

PROV, VPRS 14517 / P1 / Unit 17 / E82839129

PROV, VPRS 14517 / P1 / Unit 17 / E82839129

Victoria has good cause to be proud of the 1872 Education Act which provided for “free, compuslory and secular” education for all children aged between 6 and 15 years of age.  It set the pattern for the education acts of the other colonies with Queensland and South Australia passing similar legislation in 1875, NSW in 1880, Tasmania in 1885 and Western Australia by 1893. Ironically, by the time the later legislation was passed, the Victorian act itself had been altered to allow more religious influence and the leaving age had been lowered to 13 years.

Prior to 1872, public education in Victoria was provided through a dual system of denominational schools run by the churches, and government-assisted schools which charged a small, but nonetheless significant, fee.  The huge increase in population during the 1850s resulted in a demographic bulge of school-aged children in the 1860s, and there was much public anxiety about the number of children not receiving any schooling.  Charitable schools had been started by Hester Hornbrook, whose ‘Ragged Schools’ followed the model of the English Ragged School Union to provide a basic education founded on biblical and ‘practical’ education.   At its peak the ragged schools educated 1000 children at twelve schools. An article from Trove in 1859 lists eight of them: one in Simpson’s Road [originally Victoria St Abbotsford/Richmond], three in Collingwood, two in Little Bourke St, one in Little Lonsdale Street [near O’ Brien Lane] and one in Prahran [a second school in Prahran was the forerunner of the present day Hornbrook Childrens Centre]. In fact, there’s a picture of one of the Hornbrook Schools in the exhibition, but taken in 1900 when it had become the Cremorne Street School in Richmond.  But by the 1860s, the anxiety about the connection between lack of schooling and crime compelled the government to step in.

higinbotham

As it happened, before we went into the Old Treasury Building, we’d commented on the statue of Chief Justice Higinbotham  that stands on the plaza at Treasury Place.  I was well familiar with this statue. As a child, I used to go to an orthodontist in Harrison House, the former home of the VFL, in Spring Street. Being a strictly-brought-up child, I wasn’t allowed to say “bottom” but I was able to surreptitiously utter that naughty word by pointing out the statue of Justice “Higginbottom”.

Higinbotham was not only Chief Justice: he was also the driving force behind the Education Act of 1872 even though he was no longer in Parliament when it actually passed.  He had, however, been chair of a royal commission of enquiry into education in 1866 and from its findings, introduced a bill into Parliament in 1867 that largely anticipated the 1872 bill.  In his speech to Parliament Higinbotham made no secret of the class-based aspect of ‘free, secular and compulsory‘ education. To the working class he said:

You have accepted the vote; now, in the national interest you must accept middle class culture.  You will have to change your own way of life and adopt ours. Maybe you will find this difficult, but at least give us your children.  In fact, we will remove your children from you for several hours each day by compelling you to send them to school, where they will be imbued with middle-class culture, we will raise them from the savages that they are to become civilized human beings, and for this you should be grateful. (Bessant, 1984, p. 9)

Even though the idea of free schooling stuck in the craw of both conservatives and liberals who wanted a ‘price signal’ so that working-class parents would appreciate the schooling [some things never change], it was recognized that unless education was free, the parents they were targetting  wouldn’t send their children.

But if the government was going to make this huge financial commitment- and it was huge- then it was going to be efficient, damn it! A fundamental part of the Education Act was that it created a direct line of oversight from Cabinet to the Minister to the Schools. Control of teachers, control of students.  This is made very clear in the exhibition which focuses particularly on the position of young female teachers who were often sent to isolated schools and expected to lodge with local families who resented the imposition.  Marriage resulted in instant retrenchment.

Attendance was carefully monitored.  There are letters from parents beseeching for a school to be built in a small settlement, promising the attendance of twenty, thirty children from the surrounding district.  If a school was granted, it was likely to be built from one of the template-based designs of Henry Bastow, the Chief Architect and Surveyor who was responsible for the construction of 615 schools in five years.  The more opulent of these schools were of hawthorn brick with steepled roofs and included his favoured  neo-gothic features (you can see a video feature in the exhibition here).

I was fascinated by a video of Ascot Vale Primary School in about 1910 I suspect. It shows the school ground, assembly (complete with flag-raising and oath), marching,  ball games, folk dancing (oh, how I loathed folk dancing) and boys doing push-ups.  It all seems so physical and martial.  There’s a strap on display- a fearsome looking thing which, as a girl I never encountered fortunately.  School children joined clubs, and there are the beautiful certificates that we were given for the Gould League, for example.  Did you know that I won the state award for the Temperance exam in Grade 6 and received a beautifully embossed certificate that I wish I’d kept  (and I’ll thank those who know me not to snort with derision).  Girls knitted during the war; male teachers enlisted; female teachers donated (?) a percentage of their wages for the war effort.

It’s only a small exhibition- just two rooms- but there’s much to look at. They have a good public program of talks and events too.  Well worth a visit.

Some references:

Bob Bessant “Free, Compulsory and Secular”  Paedogogica Historica, Vol 24, Issue 1, 1984, p.5-25  [available from University libraries]

E-Melbourne website  http://www.emelbourne.net.au/biogs/EM00507b.htm

There’s a fascinating case study of a disciplinary action taken against a teacher at Baringhup State School by Carolyn Woolman in Provenance (the journal of the Public Records Office) ‘The State of Feeling in the District’ Provenance, Issue 11, 2012

Farewell, The Wuzzle

IMG_0889small

Fourteen years ago we saw ‘young Wuzz’ take her very first breath, the first-born of a second litter of puppies, and tonight we held her as she breathed her last.  We didn’t really intend to keep her, but somehow she was the last puppy left of the litter and she just tagged along.  She always loved her ‘dolly’, a chewed toy meerkat from the Zoo (they’re expensive but last forever) and was prepared to fight her Aunt Ellie for it.  Always a good-natured, simple little dog.  Goodbye little Wuzzle.

#TBR20

I can feel new carpet coming on. Our carpet is sixteen years old and, as we live in a smallish unit, it suffers a fair bit of wear-and-tear.  Moreover, our three miniature foxies  (two aged 16, one aged 14) are entering the twilight of their lives: one in particular is very poorly and another is likely to follow that moonlit pathway quite soon. The third (and my favourite, I confess) is blind and deaf with terrible teeth and she, too, is not long for this world I’m afraid.  “After the dogs!!” I have promised myself as I grimly vaccuum the threadbare steps and the doggy stains that I hate so much.  And if we’re going to carpet, then we may as well paint while all the furniture is taken up…and all this means I NEED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE BOOKS.

I don’t actually buy a lot of books because I use my library a great deal.  I love receiving books as a present but  I’m too miserly to spend $30.00 on a weekly basis when I know that the chances of reading a book for a second time are not high.  I am, however, a sucker for the book stall at the Uniting Church fete, the new op-shop down the road, the new Little Free Library installed in the park and the Bargains table at Readings bookshop.  Then there’s Mr Judge, whose appalling library borrowing record and love of second-hand books compels him to bring home several books a week that pile up in his study, many of which I’d like to read one day (although I’ll give all the science fiction a miss).

But I really do need to READ some of these looming piles of books so that, when the new carpet beckons, I can sort out what I really do want to keep and dispense with two of the bookshelves in my cluttered and thoroughly unsatisfactory lounge room.  The TBR20 Reading Challenge sounds like a good idea to me.

Started by Eva Stalker in Glasgow, the TBR Challenge involves reading twenty books in a year from your own shelf before buying or borrowing any more. Well, eschewing the buying part should be fairly easy for me, but the borrowing not so much. As a result, I’ll blithely ignore that part of the challenge and just undertake to read twenty books that I already own by 30th June 2016. You’re supposed to sign up on Twitter with the hashtag #tbr20 but I must confess that I don’t think I know how to work Twitter. I need a young person to help me.

I’m quite looking forward to it. As far as the brand new un-read books are concerned, I obviously thought that these books were so desirable that I shelled out the money for them at some stage. As for the second-hand books, well I must have brought them home for a reason too.

Some people do several reading challenges, but I only until now have signed up for one: the Australian Women Writers Challenge.  I do try to catch up on the books that are short-listed for the major prizes, which involves reading a certain quota of new work.  The TBR challenge, however, is going to plunge me into some retro reading, I suspect. Prepare for lots of reviews of  early-twentyfirst-century books.  Doesn’t matter! I’m looking forward to it!

Medieval Moderns

MEDIEVAL MODERNS: THE PRE-RAPHAELITE BROTHERHOOD

National Gallery of Victoria (International), Until 12 July 2015

There’s a lovely small, free exhibition of pre-Raphaelite paintings on show at the National Gallery International until  12 July.  The exhibition exemplifies the fallacy in trying to carve off ‘Australian’ from ‘International’ art because it includes artists like Edward La Trobe Bateman (in Australia between 1852-69) and Thomas Woolner who worked in Australia in 1852-4 after arriving for the gold rush.  He, like Bateman, associated with the Howitt family who were the centre of cultural Port Phillip in a reminder to us of the transnational nature of artistic and cultural interests.  Many of these works- particularly those of William Holman Hunt, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Ford Madox Brown and Edward Burne-Jones- were purchased as part of the Felton Bequest.

The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was a group of artists in the mid -19th century who eschewed the current trends in art and the increasing industrialization of production, and consciously turned to older styles of painting and imagery – hence dubbing themselves ‘pre’ the painter Raphael (1483-1520). Many of their works, created in the last half of the 19th century harked back to a quieter medieval milieu and a mythical forested, European setting. They marked their paintings with a small PRB logo in the corner. They came to the attention of the wider public through their illustrations of Tennyson’s poetry which was itself steeped in the mythological realm. Reproductions of their works were circulated throughout the Empire, with the Maitland Mercury noting on 26 September 1885 that a reproduction of Holman Hunt’s “The Shadow of Death” on show in a shop window had formed the basis of the local vicar’s “very eloquent” sermon.

An unusual window display for Maitland - Holman Hunt's 'The Shadow of Death'. I wonder what they were advertising?

An unusual window display for Maitland – Holman Hunt’s ‘The Shadow of Death’. I wonder what they were advertising?

When we were in Birmingham we heard a lecture about Lizzie Siddal, whose long red hair and pale, thin features adorn many of these paintings, and she (and others visually similar to her) can be found in several of these paintings. As well as paintings and sketches for paintings, there are woodcuts, furniture, photographs, book bindings and wallpaper produced by the PRB, marking the extension from painting into the decorative arts and production methods, especially through William Morris’ influence with his company, Morris & Co.  Men predominate, of course, but there are photographs by Julia Margaret Cameron

We downloaded a PDF of the wall-panel labels used in the display before visiting, which I thought would be a good way of avoiding having to cluster up close to the painting, squinting at writing in the dark before moving back to view the picture. Unfortunately there seems to be no order at all to the PDF- or at least, I couldn’t detect it, and it seemed to be completely unrelated to the layout of the exhibition. A good idea poorly executed.

All-in-all, it’s a lovely little exhibition that reminds us of the riches that the Felton Bequest has brought to Victoria.

What would Willis do? #3

Well, the presentation of Queensland Chief Justice Tim Carmody to a legal conference on Hamilton Island has been cancelled.

The Guardian has more.

We’ll have to continue to wait and watch.

What would Willis do? #2

A few weeks ago I made reference to the controversy swirling around the Chief Justice in Queensland, Tim Carmody.  I’m particularly interested in this, having spent the last eight years of my life working on a judge who was dismissed from his position twice, John Walpole Willis.  Willis’ dismissal was initiated by the local governor  (rather than at the initiative of the Colonial Office) and, even though the principle of judicial independence was (and is)  tenaciously held amongst judges, none of his brother judges who actually presided alongside him lifted a finger in his defence.

Before I become too excited about parallels between Willis and Carmody, a few qualifications are in order. The Tim Carmody situation is fundamentally different to that of Willis, because the complaint is that Carmody is too close to government (or at least, the recently departed LNP government), rather than too antagonistic towards government as in Willis’ case. And we need to remember that even though judges (then and now)  might put great store on judicial independence, this sentiment was not shared by the 19th century British government and the Colonial Office, who expected judges to act as a component of colonial administration rather than hold themselves separate from it.  As a colonial judge, Willis was appointed “at pleasure” which meant that the government could dismiss him at will.  British judges, on the other hand,  were appointed  “during good behaviour” which meant that there had to be cause for the dismissal (which is the case today). However, there are similarities between the Carmody and Willis situation in that here we can witness a public discussion about judicial fitness played out through the media, and that judicial peers and the Bar are  openly critical of the Chief Justice.

So, I’m watching this with great interest, finding many parallels.

When Carmody was first appointed by the Newman government in July 2014, there was already disquiet.  After a career in the Family Court (from where he had the backing of former judge Alistair Nicholson QC) he had served as Chief Magistrate for only nine months before being appointed Chief Justice. Several current and former judges and senior lawyers criticized his inappropriate closeness to the Newman government, his inexperience and the lack of support within the legal profession for his appointment.   The Saturday Paper of  5 July 2014    notes  Carmody’s open support as Chief Magistrate for the Vicious Lawless Disestablishment Act of 1213 (i.e. the VLAD anti-bikie legislation) and his announcement that judges should not use the  “weight of their office to engage in the public debate or make comments about the comparative morality or fairness” of the government’s legislation. He was strongly supported by the local Murdoch paper and the police union.  The article is critical of his track record in the Family Court and as Chief Magistrate and raises doubts over the selection process.

Stephen Kein SC and Alex McKean (National President of the Australian Lawyers for Human Rights and defence counsel for Dr Mohamed Haneef) and Alex McKean (Past Co-convenor  of the Queensland chapter of Australian Lawyers for Human Rights, barrister and lecturer at the University of the Sunshine Coast) have written a series of blogposts on the Justinian site regarding the Carmody appointment.  They criticized his appointment from the start in A Matter of Principle written on 15 September 2014. They too discussed Carmody’s inappropriate closeness with the government, quoting the former Solicitor-General Water Sofronoff QC. They note the perceived lack of eminence amongst his peers. and  criticisms about Carmody’s frequent declarations of independence in the media.  In relation to Carmody’s insistence that judges should keep quiet about government legislation, they cite both Tony Fitzgerald QC and Geoffrey Robertson QC, who take an opposing stance.  They then go on to discuss the stance of Christopher Dore, editor of the Courier-Mail, who wrote several editorials in support of Carmody.

On 30 March 2015 they returned to the issue with  Chief Justice of Queensland-Addressing the Dilemma. They noted  Judge Margaret McMurdo also faced criticisms of lack of experience when she was elevated to the second highest judicial position in Queensland, the President of the Court of Appeal. She, however, has become widely respected.  Justice Wilson’s speech (that I wrote about here) is also discussed, and especially his accusation that Carmody had questioned  the roster system  used for allocating judges to the court of disputed returns, and then tried to influence the randomly appointed judge.  As Graham Orr explains in an article in the Brisbane Times of 28 March 2015 , this was a particularly delicate matter when it appeared that the electoral seat of Ferny Grove might be decided in the courts after the Queensland election where the LNP government was turfed out after one term.

The next day (31 March) they addressed the issue again with their blogpost Queensland CJ leaps to his own defence.  They noted criticisms that Carmody had been too often absent from the bench, they turned again to the Court of Disputed Returns, and briefly mentioned the position of the senior judge administrator, whom Carmody had sacked.

Since then, there has been controversy over contact between Carmody and Bravehearts campaigner Hetty Johnson in regard to the appeal case of the murderer of  Daniel Morcombe  discussed in the Guardian article http://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2015/may/07/tim-carmody-recuses-himself-from-appeal-by-daniel-morecombe-killer on 7 May 2015. In late April, Hetty Johnson accused Carmody’s critics of being “petulant“.

The Chief Justice is currently on sick leave for a back condition, but on 25th May he announced to the Australian newspaper that he had offered to resign on condition that a judicial commission be established.  However, an article by Mark Bahnisch in the Guardian on 26 May asserts that Tim Carmody can’t demand reform as part of his severance package. Meanwhile, the Chief Justice will be giving the opening address at the North Queensland Law Association Conference this coming Friday 29 May where he will lay out his “vision” for the courts and, according to a Brisbane Times article, “expand on his issues with the judiciary and particular members of it”.

I’ll be very interested to read what he says.

‘The Paying Guests’ by Sarah Waters

payingguests

Whenever I open up a book by a favourite author, my anticipation is edged with anxiety that perhaps -alas- this might be the book that does the literary equivalent of jumping the shark.  I’ve loved every one of Sarah Water’s books and  her last,  The Little Stranger marked such  a departure from her earlier work that I wondered if I’d seen the last of the Sarah Waters I’ve enjoyed so much. I need not have feared.  She’s back to her plots that involve lesbian relationships, and as with all her earlier books, she combines careful but lightly- worn research with intricate plotting and multi-layered characters.  I shut the book with a very satisfied sigh and no, she hasn’t lost it one little bit.

SPOILER ALERT

The Paying Guests is set in post WWI London, in a society still raw with grief at so much loss of young life.  Frances Wray has returned to her widowed mother’s empty house,  her two brothers having died at the Front, and in their straitened circumstances, mother and daughter shift into a couple of rooms on the ground floor and let the upper rooms of the house.  The rooms are taken by Mr and Mrs  Barber, who after initial awkwardness they come to call ‘Leonard’ and ‘Lilian’. The domestic details are captured so well: the embarrassment as Leonard clatters through the kitchen to the toilet outside, the unaccustomed creaks and thumps as the Barbers move around in their upstairs room and just the change in the air of the house as new people move into it.  This is a Sarah Waters book, you’ll remember, so it’s no surprise that Frances and Lilian become close – very close.  It happens slowly, with every movement suffused with the significance of new and uncertain love, and it takes almost 200 pages.  I felt apprehensive: this isn’t going to end well… (and besides, there’s another 250 pages to go)

Abruptly the novel changes pace as two crimes take place. It’s probably a bit of a stretch to compare this book with Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment but as a reader, I found myself feeling  the same cover-your-eyes, sick-at-the-pit-of-my-stomach emotions. By turns nightmarish, then banal, this tension is sustained over two hundred pages as Frances  begin to doubt Lilian and the details of the crime itself.    Lilian is always a bit of a mystery, but Frances is a nuanced, grounded, character and completely believable.

Waters captures so much here: the tenderness and tentativeness of new love, the gradations and details of class difference, the leached-out greyness of 1920s London as if worn down by grief for sons, brothers and lovers who did not return and the betrayals felt by those who did.

I need not have feared.  This book is vintage Sarah Waters, and she’s just as good here as in her earlier books.

Banyule Homestead sold

Banyule Homestead went up for auction on Saturday 16th May 2015 and sold for $5.2 million.  Unfortunately only registered bidders could gain access to the interior of the homestead on the day, leaving lesser mortals to mill on the lawns outside.

The auction was held at the rear of the property. Bidding started at $4 million, initially at $100,000 increments, then smaller.  Progress was boosted considerably by a $500,000 bid that took it from $4.5 million to $5 million.  It was purchased by a very young-looking couple for $5.2 million.

The view from the back is spectacular.  There’s nowhere else that you can get this outlook which makes the loss of this property from public ownership and access even more regrettable.

The Age has a good article on the auction, complete with video.

‘A Camera on Gallipoli & Recollections’ Hatch Gallery until 30 May 2015

Hatch Gallery, 14 Ivanhoe Pde Ivanhoe Tues-Sat 10.00 a.m -5.00 p.m, until 30 May 2015. Free entry

An inordinate number of your taxpayer dollars have been directed towards the commemoration of Gallipoli and there have been many enticements to community groups to participate at a local level in the centenary. Banyule City Council put up its hand and its display will be open until 30 May- so only a couple more weeks to view it.

hatch

The HATCH Gallery is a fairly new venture located in a small hall behind the iconic Heidelberg Town Hall in (perversely) Ivanhoe. It is on two levels, as is this exhibition. The ground floor features a travelling exhibition mounted through the Australian War Memorial of the photographs of Sir Charles Ryan, while upstairs is a more localized display of artefacts and stories of local men who enlisted.

Sir Charles Snodgrass Ryan (1853-1926) was a scion of many early Port Phillip pioneers.  His father was Charles Ryan, who along with Peter Snodgrass were part of the ‘Gallant Five’ who helped  capture the Plenty Valley Bushrangers. His maternal grandfather was Joseph Cotton; his uncle, Albert Le Soeuf was the pioneer director of Melbourne Zoo and his sister was the artist Mrs Ellis Rowan.  After starting medicine at the University of Melbourne, he finally qualified through the University of Edinburgh.  While touring Europe and undertaking postgraduate qualifications, he saw an advertisement for medical officers to work for the Turkish government. He  worked in a medical capacity with the Turkish armies in the Turko-Serbian war of 1876 and the Russo-Turkish campaign of 1877-78. He would have only been quite young, and this serves as a reminder to us that the Balkans and Ottoman regions were heavily contested long before World War I.  On return to Australia he was appointed an honorary surgeon at the Royal Melbourne Hospital where, among other patients, he had the care of Ned Kelly to ensure that he faced trial after the Glenrowan siege.  When WWI broke out, he volunteered for the position of Assistant Director of the AIF Medical Service, aged sixty. He took with him his camera and the black and white images in this display are the result.

Perhaps because of his administrative and hence logistic role, many of these photographs show the supplies stacked along the small beach at Anzac Cove. It hadn’t particularly occurred to me that the task of supplying the troops continued during the months that the troops were there. He took photographs of the men in the trenches and swimming at Anzac Cove- it was certainly no Bondi Beach. In many of the photographs, men were sleeping in the trenches in broad daylight. This reminded me of the comment that Peter Cundall made at the ANZAC Eve commemoration I attended that soldiers often slept because of both physical and emotional exhaustion. One of the photographs depicts Lt Col Robert ‘Dad’ Owen, who had fought in the Sudan in 1885 with the NSW contingent and now led the 3rd Battalion at Gallipoli. His son fought in the same battalion and died in Belgium in 1917.

On 24 May 1915 after particularly heavy fighting, the corpses were piling up, rapidly putrifying in the sun. A truce was called and, against orders, Ryan took him camera with him to photograph the bodies. There is a story that he was challenged by Turkish officers who saw his Turkish medals from his youth, but they were mollified and then intrigued when Ryan conversed with them in Turkish (I assume), regaling them with stories of the war that their fathers and grandfathers had fought.

Burials

Source: Australian War Memorial site

These truce photographs are disturbing a hundred years later, and would have been even more so at the time, had they become public. In fact, I don’t think that I’ve often seen so many photographs of dead bodies and there is certainly none of the nationalistic ra-ra that makes me uncomfortable about much Anzac commemoration.  You can read historian Frank Bongiorno’s speech in opening this travelling exhibition in Canberra in 2014 here.

Upstairs there is a small theaterette that has a rolling, silent loop of photographic images of the war (although I must confess to feeling somewhat sated by the display downstairs). Another room contains artefacts donated by local families whose grandfathers and great-grandfathers fought during the war with biographical panels alongside.

This is a well-laid out exhibition that combines the national with the very local. It hasn’t really received a great deal of publicity, and given that it closes soon, you’ll need to visit soon to catch it.

Writers and Readers: Books that Shaped and Subverted the British Empire Conference 8-9 May 2015

I’ve just spent a fascinating two days at a conference held at Melbourne University that explored the impact of books and writing on and in the British Empire. Held to support the launch of Ten Books that Shaped the British Empire: Creating an Imperial Commons, this was an interdisciplinary conference that brought together academics from history, anthropology, English and museum studies to examine the writing, reading and distribution of books that both shaped and subverted the British Empire.

1888 Building, University of Melbourne

1888 Building, University of Melbourne

The keynote address was by Elleke Boehme, Professor of World Liberature in English from Oxford University (and one of the judges for the 2015 Man Booker International Prize).  She compared autobiographical texts written by Jawaharlal Nehru (Autobiography and The Discovery of India) and Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom.   Both texts were written by outstanding leaders, both were fostered during long periods of imprisonment, and they even drew on similar themes, tropes and imagery. However, Mandela’s text departed from Nehru’s narrative in that he projected a more confident view of the future beyond the nation.

It was followed by a session that explored religious texts in empire. Troy Heffernan from USQ discussed the King James Bible and the Book of Common Prayer- two Anglican texts that accompanied the expansion of the British Empire.  I hadn’t realized that the Book of Common Prayer had undergone major revisions, most particularly in relation to the daily obligations that had shaped earlier Anglican religious expression. Then Samia Khatun from the University of Melbourne explored the global circulation of the Quran, and the Ahmadiyyan prophesies that emerged from British India at the end of the nineteenth century.  The prophesies of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, were regularly published in Australian newspapers, and his predictions of the defeat, rise and then collapse of Turkey were interpreted, of course, in the light of World War I. Dr Khatun then shifted her attention from these public prophesies to the private stories of prophesies and dreams that were circulated through women’s stories, drawing on stories from her own family.

Large magnolia tree outside 1888 building

Large magnolia tree outside 1888 building

The next panel, Texts of Dispossession, explored three texts of empire.  Tracey Banivanua Mar discussed Edward Gibbon Wakefield’s work over the length of his career, noting in particular the feedback about Indigenous landownership that Wakefield received from his brother Felix, a surveyor in Tasmania, and Arthur, a settler with the New Zealand Company who was killed by Ngati Toa over stolen land.  Lucy Davies (fellow PhD candidate from La Trobe) took Beatrice Grimshaw’s 1911 novel When the Red Gods Call, set in New Guinea, which addressed fantasies and anxieties about masculinity, sex and gender when the main character, Stephanie Hammond, learns that her husband had once married a ‘native’ woman.  Finally, Tom Rogers from the University of Melbourne explored William Westgarth’s writings published between the 1840s and 1860s- “booster” literature that lauded Port Phillip’s progress and encouraged emigration to the colony. He traced the change in Westgarth’s attitudes towards the Indigenous population over time, with  increasingly heightened claims about infanticide and cannibalism as a way of justifying the settler-colonial project.

Two papers on Jane Eyre followed: one by Charlotte Macdonald, the other by Bryonny Goodwin-Hawkins, an anthropologist.  Both these papers were carefully written and beautifully presented.  The first explored ideas of possession and re-possession, picking up that very first scene in the opening chapter with Jane defiantly rebuffing Master Reed who bullied her when she crept behind the curtains in the drawing room to read.  The second paper ‘placed’ the image of the deserted, lonely Haworth Parsonage into the industrial context of cotton bales and looms of the Pennines region.  These were two really special papers (probably my favourites of the whole conference), quite different in construction and delivery to the more history-based papers to which  I’m accustomed.

The fourth session examined the book trade.  You only have to look at any of the early Australian newspapers on Trove to note that the final page of each four-page edition was made up of articles extracted from newspapers from across the empire. In fact, it has often struck me that these little local newspapers had probably as much international  (or at least inter-empire) focus proportionally as our newspapers do today- if not more.  Isobel Hofmeyr from the University of the Witwatersrand explored the role of the ‘exchange editor’ whose job it was to scour the newspapers as they arrived from overseas and literally cut-and-past articles into the local papers. When the concept of copyright arose- and it did not do so for some time-  it became tied up with Customs and Excise, and an exercise in sorting out the desirable from the undesirable.  David Carter from the University of Queensland discussed the transatlantic book trade which, although it restricted the development of local printing houses, did provide a means by which Australian books were offered to American and European markets (even though they were seen as ‘British’).  Australian books were reduced from three volumes to one, and often circulated in cheap libraries and as pirate copies – although at a time when copyright was unknown, a cheap knock-off was seen as a legitimate way of broadening the audience.

Christina Twomey explored Emily Hobhouse’s 1902 book The Brunt of the War and Where It Fell which demonstrated the impact of the Boer War on white women and children, but what struck me about her presentation was her sensitive portrayal of Hobhouse as the frustrated youngest daughter, confined for years in caring for her ailing father. [And I must confess that at this point, I had to leave and missed the next two papers and the book launch]

The beautiful (plane?) tree at the rear of the 1888 building. When I attended, the creche was located in the building and this tree dominated the children's playground.

The beautiful (plane?) tree at the rear of the 1888 building. When I attended, the creche was located in the building and this tree dominated the children’s playground.

But I was back bright and early this morning for the second day.  The first session ‘The Caribbean’ explored three texts- two of which were unfamiliar to me, the other more well-known.  Trevor Burnard from University of Melbourne discussed Edward Long’s History of Jamaica, published in 1774 by a wealthy and influential British absentee planter, who was resident in Jamaica between 1757-1769. This three-volume book is more often dipped into for its facts rather than read as as a text in its own right, and although it is a racist rant, it is also a critique of the short-termism of English policy compared with French planning, perseverance and expenditure.  Aaron Kamugisha from the University of the West Indies followed, with a presentation on C.L.R. James’ The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution, published in 1938, and hugely influential in shaping the views of three generations of radical activists and intellectuals.  The text was originally a stage-play starring Paul Robeson before James reworked it as a history, and appearing as it did just as World War II broke out, the first edition is difficult to find.  It was translated into French in 1949 and promptly banned, and it is the second edition of 1963 that had such a profound effect in bringing the Haiti Revolution to audiences throughout the world.  The final paper of the session was by Sue Thomas from La Trobe University who discussed Jean Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea (which of course links with the Jane Eyre papers of the previous day) and the biographical influences of Rhys’ own family that are echoed in the novel.  She quoted from a cache of financial letters from Rhys’ great-grandparents, their son, and their creditors, that highlighted the indebtedness and sense of financial injury that form the background to Rhys’ own family and which inform the context of Wide Sargasso Sea.

The next panel ‘The Colonial Writing World’ started with Ken Gelder’s discussion of colonial Australian detective fiction- especially the world’s first detective novel, John Lang’s The Forger’s Wife (1853).  George Flower, the detective, was himself an emancipated convict, and was probably based on Israel Chapman.  He went on to Mary Fortune’s detective stories, especially Dandy Art’s Diary where one detective undercover watched another detective undercover.   The detective held an uneasy social position, just below respectable, and as in Fergus Hume’s Mystery of a Hansom Cab, there were many others who competed with the detective to solve the crime.   Bruce Knox then followed with a paper on Edward Bulwer Lyttton, who was a novelist, MP and eventually Secretary of State for the Colonies.  He wrote what sounds like a very strange science fiction/satire The Coming Race where a subterranean people, possessing the awesome power of ‘Vril’ practiced colonization  and planned to eventually ascend to the upper world and displace the existing inhabitants.  It was a satire and critique on Utopianism, Equality and Democracy (and was also the source of name of the ‘Bovril’ drink [Bo as an abbreviation of bovine or beef, and ‘vril’ from The Coming Race])

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Helen Bones rounded off the session with a discussion of Antipodean writers who span the Australian/New Zealand nexus, in particular Arthur H. Adam and Edith Lyttleton (who wrote as G. B. Lancaster).  Lyttleton’s books are ‘Dominion’ novels, set in Australia, Canada and New Zealand. Both these writers are often overlooked because they are in-between the two countries, and fall outside nationalistic approaches to literature with their emphasis on identification with landscape.

The final session that I stayed for (because I again left early) was ‘The Imperial Formation of Australian National Identities’.  Karen Downing who wrote Restless Men (reviewed here) gave a beautifully constructed paper that picked up on the argument in her book for the importance of Robinson Crusoe as an inspiration and point of identification for men in the emerging British colonies. Melanie Nolan, the General Editor of the Australian Dictionary of Biography, followed, with a discussion of Coral Lansbury (Malcolm Turnbull’s mother) and her book Arcady in Australia which argued that the egalitarian, Arcadian view of Australia was not formed in the bush in the 1890s as Russel Ward argued, but was instead imported to Australia by English writers of the 1850s – Samuel Sidney, Charles Dickens and Edward Bulwer Lytton (who we met in an earlier session).  She suggested that Lansbury and her book Arcady in Australia  has been largely overlooked because she was an expatriate, died early, went into English Departments rather History (as Russel Ward did), and she didn’t write about women beyond an article in Meanjin.  I have a copy of Lansbury on my shelf, and I’ll be reading it soon.  And, for me, the last paper of the day was by Kate Darian-Smith who discussed two post-war books, Henrietta Drake-Brockman’s The Fatal Days (1847) set in Ballarat and a thinly disguised book on Australian nationalism, and Florence James and Dymphna Cusack’s controversial Come in Spinner, which had a long and stormy gestation after winning a prize as an unpublished manuscript and then had to be cut and censored for its raciness and anti-Americanism.

The beautiful stained glass windows in the Gryphon Gallery (where the conference was held), commemorating members of the Melbourne Teachers College (whose building this originally was) who died and served in World War I

The beautiful stained glass windows in the Gryphon Gallery (where the conference was held), commemorating members of the Melbourne Teachers College (whose building this originally was) who died and served in World War I

As you can gather, this was a wide-ranging conference that discussed many books and ideas.  The panels were well-organized by theme, and I enjoyed being exposed to the different presentation styles from other disciplines.  And so, what WERE  the Ten Books That Shaped the British Empire? I don’t know: I wasn’t there for the launch and there were no copies on sale today. So I guess I’ll just have to read it to find out!

[If I’ve made any errors or misrepresentations here, please contact me at my email address in the ‘About’ section]