Curious Minds: The Discoveries of Australian Naturalists 9780642277541, 0642277540

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The Discoveries of Australian Naturalists Peter Macinnis

National Library of Australia

Edward Lear (1812–1888) Palaeornis novae-hollandiae, New Holland Parrakeet, in the Possession of the Right Hon. the Countess of Mountcharles c.1830

Contents Foreword2 Introduction4 Australian Nature Discovered

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Death in the North

88

Boomerang Screws and Big Wombats

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Ludwig Leichhardt (1813–c.1848) and John Gilbert (1812–1845) Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855)

The Case of the Large-bellied Fish

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A Victim of Fighting Men

108

True-blue Naturalists 

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William Blandowski (1822–1878)

The Fussy Pyrate and the Hippo

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Wherein Philosophers Are Puzzled

16

Gerard Krefft (1830–1881)

The French Connection

20

Naturalising in an Age of Revolution

24

William Dampier (1651–1715)

Willem de Vlamingh (1640–c.1698)

Jacques La Billardière (1755–1834) and Claude Riche (1762–1798) Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (1778–1846) and François Péron (1775–1810)

Putting Australian Nature on the Map A Taste of the Devil, the Kangaroo and Parkinson’s Fig

Joseph Banks (1743–1820), Sydney Parkinson (c.1745–1771) and James Cook (1728–1779)

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Scrubbed from the Map

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Pioneering Ladies

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Amalie Dietrich (1821–1891) and Georgiana Molloy (1805–1843)

Marketing Australian Nature

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Sisters with Honorary Status Among the Chaps

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A Voice from the Bush

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A Mere Flower Painter

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Bagging the Bunyip

146

Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895)

Louisa Atkinson (1834–1872)

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Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826), Robert Brown (1773–1858) and Matthew Flinders (1774–1814)

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Ferdinand von Mueller (1825–1896)

Harriet Scott (1830–1907) and Helena Scott (1832–1910)

An Unheralded Young Man Charles Darwin (1809–1882)

The Excellent Baron

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922)

William Sharp Macleay (1792–1865)

Australia Live

155

A Painting Coroner

156

The Business of Nature

164

John Lewin (1770–1819)

Australia Expanded

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The Pursuit of Platypuses

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The Gentleman Painter

170

The Mystery of the Watling Collection

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The Mammalian Egg’s Tale

178

The Pursuit of Glittering Prizes

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Makers of Their Own Fates

81

Curiosity Killed the Botanist

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George Bennett (1804–1893)

John White (c.1756–1832) and Thomas Watling (1762–c.1814) Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–1895) and John Macgillivray (1821–1867)

Allan Cunningham (1791–1839) and Richard Cunningham (1793–c.1835)

John Gould (1804–1881) and Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841) George French Angas (1822–1886) William Hay Caldwell (1859–1941)

The Value of a Curious Mind

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Acknowledgements190 Chapter Endnotes  192 List of Illustrations 200 Index207

Foreword R.W. Home, AM Emeritus Professor of History and Philosophy of Science, University of Melbourne

The establishment of British settlements in Australia and their gradual spread across the Australian continent was part of a much larger historical development in which, during the course of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, European power became established around the globe. Especially during the early stages of this process, in the period often referred to as the Enlightenment, European thought was dominated by an outward-looking and optimistic—perhaps too optimistic—belief in the capacity of humans to comprehend the world in which they lived. As explorers and travellers sent back to Europe reports and specimens of the novelties they had encountered, people became increasingly curious to know more. Among the well-to-do, it became increasingly fashionable to assemble a ‘cabinet of curiosities’ filled with exotic natural history specimens and items of antiquarian interest. Many specimens, however, were public property since they had been collected during expeditions funded by one or another European government. To house them, a new kind of institution emerged, the public museums that became a feature of any self-respecting European city.

The flood of new material created both problems and opportunities for serious naturalists. Establishing rational systems of classification of all manner of things became a feature of Enlightenment thought, with the Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus leading the way by devising systems for classifying plants and animals according to the details of their reproductive systems. Later workers, such as the famous botanist Robert Brown, tried to develop less artificial systems that better captured the relationships between different groups of organisms, but all stuck to Linnaeus’s central idea of assigning a two-place name to each species—one establishing the genus to which it belonged, the other identifying which species it was within the genus. The first Europeans who visited Australia were fascinated by the wealth of unfamiliar plants and animals they encountered. At first, they naturally tended to associate them with species they already knew, but closer acquaintance showed that many of them were remarkably different from the familiar Old World forms. The sense of strangeness that this engendered continued well beyond the beginnings of European settlement, and became a source of

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pride among colonial naturalists curious to know more about the new environment in which they found themselves: ‘All things are queer and opposite’, trumpeted the motto of one of Australia’s earliest scientific societies, the Tasmanian Society, founded in Hobart in 1839. As Australian forms became better known, they helped inspire important developments in classificatory science and biological understanding. In this book, Peter Macinnis recounts in lively fashion the stories of a varied assembly of visitors and settlers, from Britain and other parts of Europe, men and women, dilettantes and professional naturalists,

who contributed in one way or another to making familiar what had once been seen as alien. They make a fascinating group, fascinated as they themselves were by the novelties around them and curious to understand them better. Thanks largely to the efforts of such people, Australians came at last to feel at home in their environment, and to treasure it for what it was rather than trying to transform it into a pale imitation of the Europe they had left behind. They deserve to be remembered, and Peter Macinnis’s book will help a new generation of Australians to do so.

H.C. Richter (1821–1902) Myrmecobius fasciatus Gould 1845

Introduction Australia is the land of contrarieties, where the laws of nature seem reversed; her zoology can only be studied and unravelled on the spot, and that too only by a profound philosopher. —Barron Field, 18251

Traditionally, explorers hoped to find new lands to claim and places filled with immense riches. Some dreamed of precious metals and jewels, but practical merchant–adventurers knew that novel raw materials would make them rich faster. Spices, dyes and new foods were good, but until the twentieth century, plants and animals provided most raw materials, along with a few minerals and ores. Natural materials were the key to steady profits.

merchant–adventurer, even if some nineteenth-century naturalists made a good living from the sale of seeds, cuttings and live and dead animals. Explorers could only indulge these eccentrics and hope. Naturalists were the first ‘geeks’ who might, perhaps, stumble over a valuable mineral outcrop, a commercially desirable plant or an animal that yielded rich furs or ivory, while chasing some rare and useless contrariety. That, at least, was the theory. Surely, the explorers told each other, there had to be something out there worth selling at home.

To this end, private merchant–adventurers and government-appointed explorers needed people who understood nature. They called these men (and in the beginning, only men could apply) naturalists. Over time, the naturalist on an exploring ship became just as important as the navigator, the cook, the sailmaker and the carpenter.

The first visitors found no treasures in Australia, but settlers arrived anyhow. Some of them had no choice, others perhaps had hopes that riches would be found, but whatever the reason, they set up settlements and accommodation in widening circles. This afforded later naturalists the opportunity and support to visit or even live in Australia, and get closer to the contrary Antipodean plants and animals, which so often ignored established European truths about life. Australia was a land of promise and bounty for the prepared—and trained—curious mind.

Good gentlemen naturalists had minds that were curious in every sense. They cared for knowledge rather than wealth, frustrating the fortune-hunters. The better the naturalist, the more likely he was to dash off, collecting snails, trapping finches, gathering frogs or scooping up jellyfish—none of them commercial to a

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Augustus Earle (1793–1838) View from the Summit of Mount York, Looking towards Bathurst Plains, Convicts Breaking Stones, N.S. Wales c.1826

After settlement, with little training on offer in Australia, naturalists were imported at first. Medical students learned botany, so doctors could recognise medicinal plants, and studies in human anatomy prepared them to dissect and classify animals. Many of the medical men who visited Australia had, as children, trapped, killed, pinned and displayed dead insects, and some of them kept on doing it. They were suited to the task.

encouraged to pursue and paint assorted life forms in delicate watercolours. This tradition even reached Australia, where sisters Helena and Harriet Scott, like Ellis Rowan, produced exquisite depictions of natural beauty. In a lesser way, so did Louisa Atkinson—and we will meet all four, later. The causes of the natural history fad are a bit hard to unravel, but a major influence must have been better and safer shipping. In the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries, many sailors who set out around the world from Europe died on the way, as a result of accidents or disease, or due to unreliable methods of navigation and a lack of maps. Others perished when

By the mid–nineteenth century, most middle-class drawing rooms featured a glass case of dead birds, stuffed and pinned in lifelike poses—the ultimate low-care pets for that era. Genteel ladies were

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ships fell apart in storms or because of decay in the timbers, canvas and rigging. Then again, biology was becoming a science as the taxonomic systems of Carl von Linné (or Linnaeus, as we often know him) took hold. There was also a growing middle-class in Europe, rich enough to be able to afford landscaping outside their mansions and fine displays inside. With people such as Linnaeus and his disciple Sir Joseph Banks sending out the likes of Robert Brown and Allan Cunningham to collect seeds and pressed flowers (as well as skins and bones when the opportunity arose), everybody knew there were wonders to be seen and even bought, once science had its fill. When collectors could go out and come back safely, they went. Once they returned, there were rare objects to please the stay-at-home collectors.

George French Angas (1822–1886) Bathurst 1851

The life of the naturalist in Australia was harsh before coastal steamers and steam trains made travel easier. In September 1851, a Sydney Morning Herald reporter explained how travel by the mail coach in Australia was more leisurely than anything encountered in England:

By the late nineteenth century, most naturalists were either trained scientists, or happy and informed amateurs, catching butterflies, twitching birds, or snapping up marsupials. Some, such as Amalie Dietrich, even made a living, catching and preparing rare specimens for sale to rich collectors. Others, such as Georgiana Molloy, did it more for the praise they won.

Although the journeys here are performed with comparative rapidity, when the nature of the country and the state of the roads are taken into consideration, there is none of that extreme hurry with which we have been tormented on the English roads. There is no tearing away of the half famished traveller from his scarcely tasted meal. Time is allowed him to feed heartily, before the coachman summonses him to resume his place. But there are many other peculiarities of Australian mail-coach travelling, some of which are, in the opinion of many, not quite so agreeable.2

Over time, the demand for specimens waned, and naturalists were funded in other ways, as the original ideal of making a fortune from excellent economic finds was quietly shelved. Instead of going out as collectors, they went out as the scientific arm of exploring trips, such as Charles Darwin on the Beagle, Ferdinand von Mueller with the North Australian Expedition, or the Cunningham brothers with a number of Australian explorers. A few, like William Hay Caldwell, had university funding. One way or another, the curious minds were free to travel in search of knowledge.

A good team on a good road (not a common combination!) might go at 20 kilometres an hour, when it was going, but there were stops for changes of horses, comfort breaks, and other delays: When a steep hill, or any other impediment of a similar nature … has to be encountered, the coachman requests

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The biggest challenge to visiting naturalists was to get a handle on what they saw. The early ones were often wrong, but the later ones came with the books of earlier visitors, and built on and learned from earlier mistakes. Eventually, local naturalists came into their own.

his male passengers to alight, and ‘walk on a bit.’ Some of these walks extend upwards of a mile, but after being packed up in a Western or Southern mail, like herrings in a barrel, this exercise is found a relief rather than otherwise, especially if the weather is fine.3

Walking with a coach or horse let naturalists observe, without having to carry food, water, clean clothes or equipment. Their biggest challenge was to learn the differences and understand the nature, anatomy and behaviour of Australian plants and animals. Then they had to learn to survive in the bush.

This succession of curious minds—from William Dampier and his first descriptions of the native ‘racoons’ and ‘hippopotamuses’ that he saw in Australia in 1688, to William Hay Caldwell and his discovery that the platypus and echidna laid eggs very like those of reptiles in 1884—slowly helped to fill in missing bits of the puzzle. By sharing their knowledge, and their excitement and passion, naturalists fuelled an interest in the collection and study of Australian natural history, both overseas and at home.

New chums quivered at the nocturnal cries and mournful hoots of strange birds, the snarling of possums, the grunts of koalas and the screeches of fruit bats. Then there were the snakes: the same Sydney Morning Herald article warned that no traverser of the scrub should be less well equipped than a hunter. Stoutish boots were needed, with ‘leggings of leather or fustian, so as to resist a snake bite’.

Over time, other interests have replaced natural history as a leisure activity, but even today we still indulge our curious minds. Just watch youngsters dabbling in rock pools, or consider the popularity of nature documentaries on television.

The fear of snakes has always been strong in those not born in Australia, and at least one of our curious minds, Gerard Krefft, knew how to cash in on this. He became the acknowledged expert on Australian snakes, their bites (often by firsthand experience) and the survival of these bites, but that came later.

Curiosity may well have polished off the proverbial cat, but in the case of a fledgling nation, it helped foster pride, as well as an interest in preserving our natural history.

Naturalists needed to learn to use a sponge in the early morning to gather up dew to drink, and they had to know the best materials to use to start a fire. Most importantly, they had to know how to collect and what they were collecting. The naturalists brought the necessary equipment and expertise for collection, but they were also required to recognise, carry and manage the specimens they gathered. The best among them realised the value of keeping duplicate sets in case of shipwreck or other disasters, something that Robert Brown did successfully.

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) On the Bathurst Road 1854

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The Fussy Pyrate and the Hippo

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Wherein Philosophers Are Puzzled

16



The French Connection

20



Naturalising in an Age of Revolution

24









William Dampier (1651–1715)

Willem de Vlamingh (1640–c.1698)

Jacques La Billardière (1755–1834) and Claude Riche (1762–1798)

Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (1778–1846) and François Péron (1775–1810)

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The genus in which the kangaroo is to be classed I leave to better naturalists than myself to determine. How it copulates, those who pretend to have seen disagree in their accounts: nor do we know how long the period of gestation lasts. —Watkin Tench, 17934

Before people could bring a systematic Western science to bear on Australia’s natural wonders, they first needed to find Australia. Then, they needed to notice that there were profound differences. William Dampier found hippos and iguanas because he assumed that the animals he saw in Australia were similar to those seen in other parts of the world. Willem de Vlamingh quickly noticed an obvious difference when he saw that Australian swans were black. Then, alerted by those who had gone before them, two French expeditions came to Australia, anticipating that they would see plants and animals that were different.

Australian Nature Discovered

The Fussy Pyrate and the Hippo William Dampier (1651–1715)

Dampier in general seems to be a faithfull relater, but in the voyage in which he touchd on the coast of New Holland he was in a ship of Pyrates, possibly himself not a little tainted by their idle examples: he might have kept no written Journal of any thing more than the navigation of the ship and when upon coming home he was sollicited to publish an account of his voyage have referrd to his memory for many particulars relating to people &c. —Joseph Banks, 1770 5

William Dampier could be remembered for writing the very first description of chopsticks in English in his 1699 book A New Voyage around the World, a good example of his eye for curiosities:

without having to specialise. An 1850s version of Dampier would have brought a team of assistants, and might have been one of the great naturalist– navigators. Instead, he was a swashbuckling sea captain with a curious mind.

they use two small round sticks about the length and bigness of a Tobacco-pipe … they are called by the English Seamen Chopsticks.6

Dampier had some interesting and possibly dubious adventures, described as ‘trading and privateering’, on both coasts of central America before he got to the Australian coast in 1688, as one of the crew of the Cygnet—the vessel Joseph Banks later called ‘a ship of Pyrates’. After three months exploring what is now King Sound, he sailed to Indonesia, the Philippines and home to England.

That keen eye, his habit of collecting specimens, and his other habit of offering detailed accounts of what he saw made him arguably the first true naturalist to visit Australia’s shores. Dampier came to Australia with a crew, seeking riches. They found sharks at Shark Bay, along with cuttlefish, sea snakes and swarms of flies, but nothing of commercial value. His crew killed and ate ‘raccoons’, turtles and sharks, but they shied away from eating the ‘guano’.

There, he entered on a new career as an author, winning instant adulation as an expert on all matters to do with the South Seas. The former knockabout traveller and privateer was given the rank of captain in the navy, and the command of a ship, HMS Roebuck. He set off in January 1699 to look more carefully into Australia and what it might offer a grasping trader—or an empire.

The term ‘natural history’ was undefined at first. The word ‘history’ came from the Greek word ‘historia’. It meant ‘learning or knowing by inquiry’, with none of the divisions we know now. Natural historians were free to follow their interests wherever they might lead,

Dampier spent a month on the Australian coast, mainly looking, without success, for fresh water.

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Edmund Dyer Portrait of Captain William Dampier c.1835

‘Some of the other Shrubs had blue and yellow Flowers’

Ida McComish (1885–1978) Dampiera stricta, Botany Bay, New South Wales c.1936–1956

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Dampiera linearis, Needhamiella pumilio, Agrostcrinum (Agrostocrinum) scabrum, Hibbertia cunninghamii, Sphaerolobium 1880

Then he sailed off, bound for Timor, taking away specimens of flora, memories, and notes. Later naturalists would master the art of preserving animal parts for a long voyage.

Alexander von Humboldt, whose travel tales inspired Charles Darwin. Banks’ Endeavour journal has many references to Dampier’s voyages and Cook’s journal also mentions him. Most nineteenth-century explorers’ journals seem to refer to Dampier.

Banks was wrong to say Dampier relied mainly on his memory. One of his most interesting finds came on 22 August 1699 on Rosemary Island, off the north-west Australian coast:

In a real sense, then, Australian history would have been different without Dampier. So, too, would English literature, because Dampier’s writings inspired Gulliver’s Travels, and Robinson Crusoe was a fictional version of the life of Alexander Selkirk, a sailor who was rescued by Dampier. The knowledge of Australian botany would have been different as well, because he also collected specimens of Acacia, Brachycome, Dampiera, Solanum and Spinifex.

Some of the other Shrubs had blue and yellow Flowers; and we found 2 Sorts of Grain like Beans: the one grew on Bushes; the other on a Sort of creeping Vine that runs along on the Ground, having very thick broad Leaves and the Blossom like a Bean Blossom, but much larger, and of a deep red Colour, looking very beautiful.7

It has to be said, though, that if Dampier was an excellent navigator and curious about natural history, he was poor at managing a crew and hopeless at identifying what he was looking at. His ‘raccoons’ were obviously some sort of wallaby, and his ‘guano’ was almost certainly a shingleback lizard. From the location and description, it was probably the Shark Bay shingleback, Tiliqua rugosa palarra.

Dampier collected specimens of a flower that is still in a herbarium at Oxford. This flower is now known to botanists as Swainsona formosa. It has gone through a few name changes as a series of taxonomists learned more and reclassified it. The horticulturists Veitch & Sons apparently unearthed the Dampier connection when they introduced the plant to gardeners around the world, calling it ‘Dampier’s clianth’ in 1850. Botanist William Jackson Hooker referred to it as ‘Dampier’s Clianthus’ in 1858. Dampier had died in 1715, and his prior observation eluded the notice of ordinary Australians. Charles Sturt collected specimens in central Australia in 1844, and made them well known to Australians, but in the last half of the nineteenth century, variations on the Dampier name coexisted with Sturt’s desert pea for a time and the plant was known briefly as Clianthus dampieri. In the end, the Sturt connection prevailed.

His ‘guano’ is a corruption of ‘iguana’—as is ‘goanna’, and nothing to do with bird droppings at all. Dampier wasn’t impressed with his ‘guanos’, so he wasn’t going to exert himself overly in studying them: They were speckled black and yellow like Toads, and had Scales or Knobs on their Backs like those of Crocodiles, plated on to the Skin, or stuck into it, as part of the Skin. They are very slow in Motion, and when a Man comes nigh them they will stand still and hiss, not endeavouring to get away. Their Livers are also spotted black and yellow; and the Body, when opened, hath a very unsavoury Smell. I did never see such ugly Creatures anywhere but here. The Guano’s I have observed to be very good Meat, and I have often eaten of them with Pleasure; but though I have eaten of Snakes, Crocodiles, and Allegators, and

One good writer could make a world of difference back then. Young Joseph Banks caught the wander bug from Dampier, as did German naturalist and explorer

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William Dampier (1651–1715) Capt. Dampier’s New Voyage to New Holland &c. in 1699 &c. c.1729

many Creatures that look frightfully enough, and there are but few I should have been afraid to eat of if prest by Hunger, yet I think my Stomach would scarce have serv’d to venture upon these N. Holland guanos, both the Looks and the Smell of them being so offensive.8

Of the Sharks we caught a great many, which our Men eat very savourily. Among them we caught one which was eleven Foot long. The Space between its 2 Eyes was 20 Inches, and 18 Inches from one Corner of his mouth to the other. Its Maw was like a Leather Sack, very thick, and so tough that a sharp Knife could scarce cut it, in which we found the Head and Bones of a Hippototomus, the hairy Lips of which were still sound and not putrified, and the Jaw was also firm, out of which we pluckt a great many Teeth, 2 of them 8 Inches long and as big as a Man’s Thumb, small at one End, and a little crooked, the rest not above half so long. The Maw was full of Jelly, which stank extremely. However, I saved for awhile the Teeth and the Shark’s Jaw: The Flesh of it was divided among my Men, and they took Care that no Waste should be made of it.9

Dampier’s summing-up of the guano’s deficiencies as food reminds us that anything caught or gathered by the naturalist that was not new was always a candidate for the cooking pot. This compensated long-suffering crew members who might sometimes be deprived of a meal in the name of science. At worst, the bones and skin went to the naturalist, but the meat was trimmed away and hungrily consumed. So long as a competent artist had sketched the animal, a taxidermist could come along later and reconstruct it from the saved bits—more or less:

As for the shark, it was probably a great white, and the ‘hippo’ sounds like a dugong, from the teeth. Once again,

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the shark became dinner. Unlike the abundance of sharks, fresh water was scarce, making Dampier less than impressed by the prospects for traders on the north-west coast. On 5 September, he sailed to Timor, then cruised the coast of New Guinea, naming and mapping New Britain, before heading for home.

Oddly, Dampier’s account of Australia’s sandhills and poor soil, and its shark-infested reefs and shoals seems not to have influenced future visitors. Even his dismissal of the Aboriginal people he met as ‘the miserablest people in the world’, sorely troubled by flies, failed to keep visitors away.

As a naturalist, Dampier had one major advantage on his second trip:

Dampier did two important things: he published his observations, but he also collected Australian plant specimens, and 24 sheets of these specimens still survive in the Fielding-Druce Herbarium at Oxford University. He was also responsible for the first illustrations of Australian flora to be published, which were based on those sheets.

I … now had in the Ship with me a Person skill’d in Drawing, I have by this means been enabled, for the greater Satisfaction of the Curious Reader, to present him with exact Cuts and Figures of several of the principal and most remarkable of those Birds, Beasts, Fishes and Plants, which are described in the following Narrative; and also of several which, not being able to give any better or so good an Account of, as by causing them to be exactly Ingraven, the Reader will not find any further Description of them, but only that they were found in such or such particular Countries.10

Mind you, Dampier was not the first collector on the west coast. Somebody beat him to it. Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Dampiera stricta, Family Goodeniaceae c.1880

The drawings are crude, but they include the first illustrations of Australian birds, recognisable as the pied oystercatcher, common noddy, bridled tern and red-necked avocet. A 1702 court martial found Dampier unfit to command any of His Majesty’s ships. The leaky Roebuck, probably with her timbers weakened by the attacks of tropical worms, had foundered off Ascension Island, just south of the equator in the Atlantic. The crew made it ashore and ‘lived on goats and turtle’ until a passing East Indiaman picked them up and carried them to safety. Dampier was blamed for the wreck, which was probably fair, because he seems to have been a poor leader. His next expedition to the South Seas was also a failure; however, he made a successful round-the-world cruise from 1708 to 1711, as pilot to Captain Woodes Rogers.

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Australian Nature Discovered

Wherein Philosophers Are Puzzled Willem de Vlamingh (1640–c.1698)

No matter how many instances of white swans we may have observed, this does not justify the conclusion that all swans are white. —Karl Popper, 1959 11

Dampier collected specimens several years after Willem de Vlamingh landed on Rottnest Island near Fremantle and then explored the Swan River. De Vlamingh, a skipper with the Dutch East India Co., was sent with three Dutch ships—the frigate Geelvinck, the hooker Nijptangh and the galiot Weseltje—on a rescue mission. The visitors were searching for a ship named the Ridderschap van Holland that had gone missing in 1695. They had set out from Holland, visiting the Cape of Good Hope (then a Dutch outpost) and Tristan da Cunha and other islands, before steering for the then practically unknown Terra Australis. They thought the wreck and any survivors might be found at the Abrolhos Islands, so that was where they were headed when they found some islands just off the mouth of what they would soon call the Swan River.

the country low, the main coast stretching from south to north. Our people observed a remarkable fish here, about 2ft long, with a round head, and a sort of arms and legs, and even something like hands. They found also several stems of plants.12

The visitors landed on an island on the 30th, and again on the 31st, noting a number of trees, one of them with a smell like that of ‘Lignum Rhodii’ (otherwise rose wood or Convolvulus scoparius, which yields an oil used by perfume makers). They were critical of the sandy soil and noted ‘very few birds there, and no animals except a kind of rat as big as a common cat, whose dung is found in abundance all over the island’.13 In honour of the ‘rats’, they named the island Rat Nest, or in Dutch, Rottnest. Today, we know the ‘rats’ are really quokkas, Setonix brachyurus, small marsupials found on the island and south-west mainland.

Willem de Vlamingh may be little-known in eastern Australia, but even in the nineteenth century, Western Australian newspapers recounted his observations:

During their exploration off Rottnest, one of the men found a piece of wood that had been smoothed with a plane, probably from a ship. From Rottnest, they could see the mainland, and on 3 January, the men saw smoke there. Believing it could be the shipwrecked sailors,

On the morning of the 29th December (1696), at half-past two o’clock, we discovered the South land to east-northeast of us at from four to five miles distance. We found

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Jacques Louis Perée (b.1769) Cigne Noir du Cap de Diemen 1817

de Vlamingh sailed over to the mainland on the 5th, with several boats and 86 men, landing somewhere near Cottesloe and crossing to the Swan River.

they might have glimpsed naked black men, but even after dividing into three companies, they found no humans. Some of the men tried the seeds from a zamia palm, Macrozamia riedlei, which can be harmful or even lethal if they are not prepared correctly. Upper surgeon Mandrop Torst recorded a description in the Nijptangh’s log:

The Dutch captain then took a boat party through the river’s mouth and spent a week exploring the river by boat. There were footprints, handprints and campsites to be seen, and some of the crew thought

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bare and desolate region, at least along the coast and as far in as they had penetrated the interior. All right to visit, but you wouldn’t want to trade there!

I ate five or six of them, and drank of the water from a small pool, but after an interval of about three hours, I and five others who had eaten of these fruits began to vomit so violently that we were as dead men, so that it was with the greatest difficulty that I and the crew regained the shore, and thence in company with the skipper were put on board the galliot, leaving the rest on shore.14

De Vlamingh made one further discovery that would enthral philosophers for generations. Even The West Australian may have recognised the importance, quoting the report of the governor-general in Batavia to his masters in the Netherlands:

The Dutch visitors recorded bird life and the location of the river in relation to Rottnest—a safe landmark, well out to sea. They noted fish and quokkas that could be eaten, and they flagged at least one dangerously toxic food, all of which could be advantageous to future shipwreck victims. That aside, the report on the results of the expedition to the Netherlands Government condemned the area as a sandy, fly-ridden, barren,

Neither, again, were any remarkable animals or birds observed, except principally in the Swan River, a species of black swan, three of which they brought to us alive, and should have been sent to your nobilities had they not died one by one shortly after their arrival here [in] Batavia.15

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Gerard van Keulen T Zuijd Land ontdeckt door Willem de Vlamingh in de Maande van Jan an Febrii 1697 met t Yagt de Geelvink de Hooker de Nyptang ent Galjoot’t Weseltj c.1697–1726

Polypodium truncatum was in fact Acacia truncata, and his Polypodium spinulosum was really Synaphea spinulosa. In 1996, Perth botanist Alex George speculated that the specimens may have been collected by de Vlamingh, or one of his crew, and then lain unnoticed in a herbarium for 70 years.16

In the Northern Hemisphere, it was a Greek philosophical tradition that nobody needed to prove swans were white—it was self-evident. Naturalists, used to white European swans, were surprised, but philosophers saw the black swan less as an ornithological curiosity and more as a useful metaphor in discussing the nature of ‘truth’.

After de Vlamingh and Dampier, no further collections were made in Western Australia until Archibald Menzies arrived with George Vancouver in 1791. Following settlement of Australia by the British, from 1800, more and more vessels began working along the Australian coasts, anchoring where they could and gathering specimens.

In addition to capturing black swans, de Vlamingh and his crew may have collected the first Australian botanical specimens. In 1768, Nicolaas Laurens Burman, a botanist from Amsterdam, described two plants in his Flora Indica (meaning ‘Flowers of the Indies’). Burman incorrectly called them ferns, and said they were ‘ex Java’ (from Java), but they have since been identified as having come from Australia. Burman’s

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Australian Nature Discovered

The French Connection

Jacques La Billardière (1755–1834) and Claude Riche (1762–1798) During their search Labillardière made further important botanical discoveries, which would not have been possible had Riche not been missing. These included yet another entirely new plant genus to which the floral emblem of Western Australia now belongs: Anigozanthos [kangaroo paw]. —Edward Duyker, 2004 17

The British and colonial authorities were sure the French Government hoped to gain a toehold in Australia. Even so, scientific expeditions from foreign countries, including France, were treated courteously. During such an expedition in 1788, naval commander La Pérouse sailed into Botany Bay where Captain John Hunter welcomed him on board HMS Sirius. La Pérouse replenished supplies of food and fresh water during his six-week stay and took the opportunity to send copies of his journals back to Europe on the Sirius. This saved some of his work for posterity after he perished on the shores of Vanikoro in the Solomon Islands. When La Pérouse did not return to France, admiral and navigator Bruny d’Entrecasteaux was sent to look for the missing sailors in 1791. He came with two ships, La Recherche and L’Espérance. With him were naturalists Claude Riche and Jacques La Billardière.

Australia posed some interesting challenges for La Billardière. He was not expecting Australian gum trees to be quite so high. Wanting to collect some flowers from a tree (probably Eucalyptus globulus, which he named), he was faced with a giant of almost 50 metres, with blossoms only on its highest branches. These days, foresters collect seed from tall trees using rifles to shoot branches off, but eighteenthcentury muskets were neither powerful nor accurate enough. The only solution in 1791 was to cut the tree down. Chopping down a 50-metre hardwood tree just to harvest its flowers may suggest a lack of conservation awareness, but it rates top marks for determination. As a minimal requirement, a good naturalist must surely possess a curious mind. A really good naturalist, however, requires determination. Claude Riche is an example of just such a naturalist, even though his name is generally (and undeservedly) less well known—to the extent that English-language sources often call him Charles. French sources, however, consistently refer to him as Claude.

Of the two, La Billardière was certainly the better known. He had studied both botany and medicine, examined English plant collections and botanised around the Alps, Cyprus, Crete, Sardinia, Corsica and Syria. Despite his being an experienced botanist,

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‘This plant … seems to be Nature’s way of enabling human beings to populate the most arid deserts.’ Claude Riche

Pierre Joseph Redouté (artist, 1759–1840), Claude-Marie-François Dien (engraver, 1787–1865) Anigozanthos rufa 1817

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Exocarpos cupressiformis Labill., Olearea (Olearia) myrsinoides (Labill.) F. Muell. ex Benth., Olearea (Olearia) ramulosa (Labill.) Benth. the Twiggy Daisy-bush, Veronica derwentiana Andrews, 1886

In December 1792, Riche was ashore near Esperance Bay on the southern coast of south-west Western Australia when he lost touch with the rest of the party for two nights. Riche continued to make natural history observations, even when he was in sight of the ships again and began to fear they might leave without him.

If honour usually prevailed between nations, there was less honour between Frenchmen. In spite of his aristocratic-sounding name, La Billardière was a republican, but many of the officers were royalists. After Bruny d’Entrecasteaux died in 1793, the royalists surrendered the ships to the Dutch authorities on Java. La Billardière and other republicans were imprisoned for almost 18 months, during which time many of them died.

His fear was real enough, because he knew the ships were short of water and might be forced to sail to Van Diemen’s Land for water supplies. Riche wanted to know what the local people ate, and being medically trained, he was willing to do what was needed, for instance sifting Aboriginal excrement to locate pips and grains. He wrote:

La Billardière survived, but when he reached France in 1795, he found that his plant collections, some 4,000 specimens, three-quarters of them new to science, had been taken by the British as a prize of war. Luckily, honour among scientists won out: his friend Sir Joseph Banks campaigned for the collections to be returned, and the specimens were eventually restored in 1796, allowing La Billardière to study, describe and name the plants.20

The pips belong to a very small berry that I have since found. This berry is very tasty, and comes from a bush, samples of which I have collected from this land. [?Enchylaena tomentosa, Chenopodiaceae, or Leucopogon richei, Ericaceae] The grains are those of Mesembryanthemum edule (Lin.) [Carpobrotus edulis, Aizoaceae)]; it is common on this coast. This plant … seems to be Nature’s way of enabling human beings to populate the most arid deserts. It grows abundantly on the whole of the south coast of Africa, and its use has given it the name of Bread of the Hottentots; its flowers, developing in succession on the same plant, provide fruit during a great part of the year. I saw this plant each step I took in the country, but the natives had been so skilled in collecting this fruit that I did not manage to find any mature ones.18 19

While we usually credit Matthew Flinders with being the first to use the word ‘Australia’, La Billardière beat him by ten years, when he mentioned sailing from ‘the Cape of Good Hope to Australia’.21 Still, La Billardière and his colleagues never met the very Australian wombat and platypus, unlike Flinders and two other early French visitors.

One thing became apparent: if the French expedition was in search of suitable places for a colony, the west would not suit. Van Diemen’s Land, as yet unsettled by the British, would have been far better, but until peace came after the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, the French had no command of the seas and could not establish a distant colony. By 1815, Britain had occupied Tasmania.

Pierre Joseph Redouté (artist, 1759–1840), Claude-Marie-François Dien (engraver, 1787–1865) Eucalyptus globulus 1817

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Australian Nature Discovered

Naturalising in an Age of Revolution

Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (1778–1846) and François Péron (1775–1810) More anxious than the rest, they had pestered me from the moment we dropped anchor to allow them to go ashore, and I had been obliged to give my permission in order to be rid of them I must say here, in passing, that those captains who have scientists, or who may some day have them aboard their ships, must, upon departure, take a good supply of patience. I admit that although I have no lack of it, the scientists have frequently driven me to the end of my tether and forced me to retire testily to my room. —Nicolas Baudin, 1802 22

Charles-Alexandre Lesueur was an artist with little prospect of switching to any of the sciences when he left the city of Le Havre. François Péron was one of eight naturalists and a dozen more engineers, mineralogists, surgeons or pharmacists on the two ships commanded by Nicolas Baudin. The unlikely pair both joined the expedition, which left from France on 19 October 1800.23 By the time they reached the coast of Western Australia, only two naturalists were left, and one of those was fatally ill. Lesueur’s curious mind and keen eye qualified him to be Péron’s assistant, but soon he was working in the manner of a professional naturalist.

of voyagers and explorers until he was repatriated to France and invalided out of the army in 1794. Three years of medical studies and a growing interest in natural history followed. Then a combination of an unhappy love affair and poor health persuaded him to seek a place in Baudin’s expedition to the South Seas, as both a naturalist and an anthropologist. Péron had one advantage over earlier voyagers: he had the published works of William Dampier, James Cook, William Bligh and Arthur Phillip. From about 1800, naive visitors need no longer confuse a kangaroo with a greyhound, a wallaby with a rat or raccoon, or a shingleback with a guano, though it would be a while before they could rule out the presence of Dampier’s hippopotamus in Australia.

It was easier to learn on the job back then: even Péron had done so. Péron’s widowed mother had struggled to provide her bright son with a good education, and he would likely have become a priest, if not for the start of the French Revolutionary Wars. In 1792, at the age of 17, he joined the French army and served on the Rhine, but was wounded, then captured and imprisoned in Magdeburg fortress. He had lost the use of one eye, but spent his time reading the accounts

Péron was fascinated by the idea of the ‘noble savage’, and took with him on the voyage a strength measurer called a de Régnier dynamometer. Péron used this as a way of establishing that the Indigenous people of Tasmania and Australia, like the Timorese, were weaker than the English or the French. He understood cultural

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complexity, but failed to consider the effects of poor instructions and poor translation—or the unwillingness of people from other cultures to persevere in a manifestly pointless game, foisted on them by a comical foreigner. Péron was a difficult man who squabbled with Baudin and later tried to ruin his commander’s reputation. His chauvinistic attitudes (at a time when England and France were more often at war than at peace) led Matthew Flinders and Governor Philip Gidley King to suspect that some of the French were planning treachery when they left Sydney and headed back to Bass Strait. Suspicion came easily in those days. Scientific passports issued to the expedition in June 1800 from London, with the support of Sir Joseph Banks, were calculated to bring the situation under control. As a scientist, Banks wanted science to continue freely, but as a member of the English Establishment, he would not condone any attempt to misuse the privileges extended to the French vessels. Equally, his friends and followers would not tolerate any abuse—and Governor King was in that same circle of influence.

Unknown artist Portrait of C.A. LeSueur c.1900–1949

In a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, the governor made it clear that Baudin himself appeared honest and honourable. Nevertheless, as a precaution, King equipped a ‘colonial vessel’ and sent it off to hoist the British flag. The midshipman in charge ‘planted His Majesty’s colours close to their tents, and kept them flying during the time French ships stayed there’.24 As a foil, this unnamed midshipman was told (officially) that a British settlement group would follow: This order you will observe was a blind, and as such was to be communicated to Mons’r Baudin, as my only object was to make him acquainted with the reports I had heard and to assure him and his masters that the King’s claim would not be so easily given up. The midshipman in the Cumberland had other private

Ambroise Tardieu (1788–1841) Fois. Péron (Voyageur), Membre Correspondant de l’Institut c.1820

Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Choubard (engraver, active 1807–1830) Nouvelle-Hollande: Nelle Galles du Sud (Ornithorinque) 1807

natural history specimens, including live kangaroos, emus and wombats.

orders not to go to Storm Bay Passage, but to follow the French ships as far as King’s Island, and that he was to make pretext of an easterly wind forcing him into the straits; and as he was enjoined to survey King’s Island and Port Phillip, that service he should perform before he went to Storm Bay Passage.25

Péron’s artist, Lesueur, painted an image of a wombat family (‘le Wombat’) and some frill-faced platypuses (‘ornithorinque’), published in the atlas to Péron’s account of Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes, which were popular but in no way accurate. He also illustrated some iconically Australian species that were new to science, including the now extinct dwarf emu of Kangaroo Island.

King added that Baudin had later written to say he was disappointed by King’s suspicions, but his actions showed that he remained on good terms with the British, and their correspondence remained amicable. Despite the challenges facing Baudin’s expedition —including illness, death, and political instability exacerbated by the Napoleonic Wars—the two ships managed to return with an impressive collection of

Péron died in 1810, in part from his war wounds, but his collection of 100,000 specimens covering some 2,500 species had reached France, and even though he stopped

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Jean Baptiste Antoine Cloquet (d.1828) Plan de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes 1807

François Martin Testard Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Dessins Exécutés par les Naturels 1824

Victor Pillement (1767–1814) Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Vue de la Partie Méridionale de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes, et de l’Embouchure de la Rivière de Parramatta 1803

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Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Choubard (engraver, active 1807–1830) Nouvelle-Hollande: Île King, Le Wombat 1807

Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Choubard (engraver, active 1807–1830) Mollusques et Zoophytes 1807

far left: Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Aine Lambert (engraver, active 1807–1830) Mollusques et Zoophytes 1807

Jean-Dominique-Etienne Canu (b.1768) Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Dasyure à Longue Queue 1807

writing his official history of the expedition, Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes, in volume 2 at page 230, others were able to pick up where he had left off and finish the work by 1816.

d’Histoire Naturelle du Havre was badly damaged by bombing and fire. It was not the first to have suffered this fate: Florence, the resting place of La Billardière’s Australian type specimens, was damaged during the Second World War and London’s Natural History Museum was badly damaged during the 1941 Blitz. For the sake of accurate science, and for the sake of records, collections made in Australia are better studied and stored in peaceful Australia, but that notion would not take hold for almost another century. It was still the age of the pillaging visitor– expert who came to fetch, rather than to study.

While the specimens were collected in Australia, the scientific work and later storage occurred in Europe. Older Australian type specimens are generally to be found in European countries. Over time that would change, but it would be a perilously slow change. After the expedition, Lesueur lived at New Harmony in Indiana from 1815, pursuing his trade of naturalist– artist. In 1837, he returned to the French port city of Le Havre, taking his collections with him. Ports are natural targets in modern warfare, and in 1944, the Musée

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 A Taste of the Devil,

the Kangaroo and Parkinson’s Fig

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An Unheralded Young Man

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Scrubbed from the Map

48



Pioneering Ladies

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Joseph Banks (1743–1820), Sydney Parkinson (c.1745–1771) and James Cook (1728–1779)



Charles Darwin (1809–1882)

Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826), Robert Brown (1773–1858) and Matthew Flinders (1774–1814)

Amalie Dietrich (1821–1891) and Georgiana Molloy (1805–1843)

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Sir Joseph Banks, more than any other person, first put Australian natural history on the map, in part because he wished to secure Australia as a British colony. He visited with Cook in 1770, taking back specimens of plants and animals, and was a long-term patron of the natural history of New Holland. The contributions of many others to an Australian natural history are less well remembered. Sydney Parkinson, natural history artist on Cook’s voyage, died before he could return to England, leaving his remarkable legacy unfinished. Natural history artist Ferdinand Bauer would perhaps

gain a little more attention today if his name had not been rudely erased from the map of Australia. Amalie Dietrich and Georgiana Molloy, both excellent collectors, were women. As such, they were limited to collecting specimens that were studied and described by male scientists. Charles Darwin certainly noticed Australia’s curious creatures, and they may have helped him develop his theory of evolution, but he passed with little notice through Sydney in 1836, writing in his diary, ‘On the whole I do not like New South Wales’.1

The leading animal production is well known to be the kangaroo. The natural history of this animal will, probably, be written from observations made upon it in England, as several living ones of both sexes, have been brought home. —Watkin Tench, 1790 2

Putting Australian Nature on the Map

A Taste of the Devil, the Kangaroo and Parkinson’s Fig

Joseph Banks (1743–1820), Sydney Parkinson (c.1745–1771) and James Cook (1728–1779) I am neither a botanist nor a naturalist; and have not words to describe the productions of nature, either in the one branch of knowledge or the other. —James Cook, 1775 3

Most conservationists would be inclined to sneer at Japanese ‘scientific whaling’, calling it ‘the only branch of science where you eat the evidence’. While it is difficult to see any scientific value in the hunt, there have been many forms of science where the evidence, or most of it, was eaten. A case in point is the first true kangaroo reported to Europeans, seen late in the visit of HM Bark Endeavour to the Australian coast.

held government posts, Banks benefited well from this close alliance. In 1766, he visited Newfoundland and Labrador on board HMS Niger, collecting rocks, plants and animals. The same year, he was elected a fellow of the Royal Society and attended his first meeting, two days after his 24th birthday in February 1767. His election was probably more a recognition of his status than of his skill, but it put him in just the right place to be sent on a voyage to the South Seas.

Without Joseph Banks and his evidence-eating science, there may well have been no Australia. Banks was a rich man, indulging a natural history hobby. When James Cook was selected by the Admiralty to lead an expedition to the South Seas to observe the transit of Venus, the Royal Society proposed that Banks be allowed to accompany the expedition. Banks joined the ship with a ‘suite’ that included naturalist Daniel Solander, landscape artist Alexander Buchan and natural history artist Sydney Parkinson.

In August 1768, Banks sailed out of Plymouth on board HM Bark Endeavour, set to become Australia’s greatest scientific friend. In later years, he sent collectors and explorers to Australia, but a letter he wrote in 1798 reveals that his interest extended beyond science: We have now possessed the country of New South Wales more than ten years, and so much has the discovery of the interior been neglected that no one article has hitherto been discover’d by the importation of which the mother country can receive any degree of return for the cost of founding and hitherto maintaining the colony.

Banks was educated at Harrow, Eton and Oxford. He didn’t take a degree, but devoted his time to botanising and fishing with John Montagu, the fourth Earl of Sandwich. Given that the earl often

It is impossible to conceive that such a body of land, as large as all Europe, does not produce great rivers

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Thomas Phillips (artist, 1770–1845), Nicholas Schiavonetti (engraver, d.1813) Portrait of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart., President of the Royal Society 1812

capable of being navigated into the heart of the interior; or, if properly investigated, that such a country, situate in a most fruitful climate, should not produce some native raw material of importance to a manufacturing country as England is.4

The distinction between pure science (the hunt for knowledge for its own sake) and applied science (where knowledge is sought for practical purposes) was, and is still, a blurred one. Clearly, Banks wanted a return on the investment made by Britain as coloniser. Luckily for Australian science, he saw only one way to achieve this, and that was to send more investigators. Banks went on to propose sending Scottish explorer Mungo Park to Australia. When Park declined, Banks settled on Flinders instead—a fortunate choice. John Hamilton Mortimer (1740–1779) Captain James Cook, Sir Joseph Banks, Lord Sandwich, Dr Daniel Solander and Dr John Hawkesworth c.1771

Good fortune played an integral role in Banks’ life. He inherited his father’s wealth, which gave him the financial means to pursue his passion for natural history. Banks was enthusiastic about science, but not really interested in the hard slog that goes with any investigation. He could pay others to do that for him, and he made good choices there, but his last bit of good fortune involved no choice at all: he survived the visit to Batavia. Cook had contained scurvy at sea, the first sea captain to do so, but many of his crew succumbed to diseases, either in Batavia, or soon after leaving the port. Most died of dysentery or malaria, and the figures tell the tale. In all, 41 of the ship’s company died on the voyage—33 of them in Batavia or just after leaving. It was a long trip, from August 1768 to July 1771, visiting Rio de Janeiro, Tierra del Fuego, Tahiti and New Zealand before reaching Australia in April. The ship landed for a week at what was originally to be Stingray Harbour, to commemorate the many large stingrays the crew caught and ate. Banks thought the

Josiah Wedgwood & Sons Limited (manufacturer) Plaque of Captain James Cook 1957

Thomas Luny (1759–1837) The Bark, Earl of Pembroke, Later Endeavour, Leaving Whitby Harbour in 1768

‘Mosquetos’ were the biggest problem, but he and his team busily gathered many new plants, giving rise to the harbour’s new name, but only after ‘Botanists Bay’ was considered and rejected, Cook reported:

This evening we finishd Drawing the plants got in the last harbour, which had been kept fresh till this time by means of tin chests and wet cloths. In 14 days just, one draughtsman has made 94 sketch drawings, so quick a hand has he acquird by use.6

The great quantity of plants Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander found in this place occasioned my giving it the Name of Botany Bay.5

Sydney Parkinson bore it all with good grace, and probably enjoyed his work. He was born in Edinburgh in about 1745 and raised as a Quaker. Although he was apprenticed to a draper, he showed talent in painting and so headed for London, as most ambitious Scots did back then. In 1766, he was working in a Hammersmith nursery when young Banks called in and met the aspiring artist.

After Buchan’s death in Tahiti, only Sydney Parkinson was there to paint what they saw. Parkinson had been hired for his skill in painting flowers, but now he was required to paint landscapes as well. He also turned out to be quite proficient at drawing the Polynesians they met. The undertaking was enormous, as we see in Banks’ journal entry, ten days after leaving Botany Bay:

Banks immediately persuaded him to work at Kew, already a major centre of botanical research,

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Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), R. Hughes (engraver) Banksia ericifolia 1986

Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), Daniel MacKenzie (engraver, active 1770–1780) Banksia dentata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum dentatum, Endeavour River, Australia, 17 June–4 August 1770

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Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), Charles White (engraver) Banksia integrifolia

Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), Gabriel Smith (engraver, 1724–1783) Banksia serrata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum serratifolium, Botany Bay, Australia, 28 April–6 May 1770 c.1983

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Wind foul: Morning employd in finishing the Drawings of the animals taken yesterday till the ship got so much motion that Mr Parkinson could not set to his Pencil; in the Evening wind still Fresher so much as to make the night very uncomfortable …8 About noon today we experiencd what the Seamen call a white squall, that is a gust of wind which came upon us quite unawares, unattended with a cloud as squalls in general are and therefore took us quite unprepard; it was however very slight so no ill consequence ensued except Mr Parkinson and his potts going to leward, which diverted us more than it hurt him.9

Over time, the plant collection grew, and it all needed to be cared for. When the Endeavour struck a reef, the threat to the collections was hardly an issue, given that they were facing death. Their ship was holed and crippled, and they were far from land. As they saw later, the pumps could only keep the water level down because most of the hole was blocked by a piece of reef jammed in it. A midshipman suggested fothering the ship, which meant hauling a prepared sail over the hole, so as to reduce the water flow still further. Quite by chance, this would also have helped to hold the ‘plug’ in place.

Unknown artist after Nathaniel Dance-Holland (1735–1811) Captain James Cook F.R.S. c.1790

but barely a year on, he lured him away again, this time to sail to the South Seas. Buchan would paint the landscapes and scenery, Parkinson the living things.

By means of good management and good luck, they limped into the mouth of the Endeavour River, hoping at least to salvage timber from the ship to make a boat or boats that might get them to Timor, leaving the paintings and specimens—all they had worked for—rotting on the shore. And so they came to a place where they would meet a strange animal and learn its name—and its taste.

It wasn’t easy work, because even at sea, the scientists used nets to haul in seaweeds and sea creatures that needed drawing. Then, when the sailors caught an edible fish, it had to be drawn and painted first before it went to the galley:

They would also see a ‘wolf’ (a dingo), an ‘allegator’ (a crocodile), a possum (Banks identified it as a Didelphis, thinking it to be the same as the American opossum), venomous and non-venomous snakes, a ‘batt’ and ‘an Animal like a ratt’, but one took precedence. The ‘Natives’ called it ‘Kangooroo, or Kanguru’, which

This Morn at day break made the Island of Bonavista, one of the Cape Verde Islands: Mr Buchan employd in taking views of the land; Mr Parkinson busy in finishing the sketches made of the shark yesterday.7

From other entries in Banks’ journal, working at sea could be a trial, but there were moments of humour:

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Cook reported to be quite common, and usually seen when they went out into the country.10 At first, though, it was a mystery: I saw myself this morning, a little way from the Ship, one of the Animals before spoke off; it was of a light mouse Colour and the full size of a Grey Hound, and shaped in every respect like one, with a long tail, which it carried like a Grey hound; in short, I should have taken it for a wild dog but for its walking or running, in which it jump’d like a Hare or Deer.11

Banks saw one the next day, and also thought it similar to a greyhound in both size and running style, but with a large tail. Almost three weeks later, Lieutenant Gore shot a kangaroo, and Cook, not Banks, recorded its details: It was a small one of the sort, weighing only 28 pound clear of the entrails … the head, neck, and Shoulders very Small in proportion to the other parts. It was hair lipt, and the Head and Ears were most like a Hare’s of any Animal I know; the Tail was nearly as long as the William Byrne (engraver, 1743–1805) A View of Endeavour River, on the Coast of New Holland, Where the Ship Was Laid on Shore in Order to Repair the Damage Which She Received on the Rock 1773

body, thick next the Rump, and Tapering towards the End; the fore Legs were 8 Inches long, and the Hind 22. Its progression is by Hopping or Jumping 7 or 8 feet at each hop upon its hind Legs only, for in this it makes no use of the Fore, which seem to be only design’d for Scratching in the ground, etc. The Skin is cover’d with a Short, hairy furr of a dark Mouse or Grey Colour. It bears no sort of resemblance to any European animal I ever saw; it is said to bear much resemblance to the Jerboa, excepting in size, the Jerboa being no larger than a common rat.12

The next day, Banks commented on the animal in his journal: ‘The Beast which was killd yesterday was today Dressd for our dinners and provd excellent meat’.13 Clearly an example of edible science! Two weeks later, the ship was repaired and they were eager to depart for Batavia. Sadly, that destination proved anything but fortunate for the hard-working Parkinson. On 26 January, Parkinson died after having contracted dysentery like so many others. He was buried at sea, but his 280 paintings and more than

900 partly completed drawings made it safely back to England—and into a storm.

at St Helena on his second visit, the incensed islanders carefully placed carts and wheelbarrows outside Cook’s lodgings each day.

In the case of Cook, a bluff seaman, his masters were not confident of his ability to record the amazing journey. Instead, the records were handed over to a glib hack, John Hawkesworth, who laboured and brought forth a mountainous farrago that drew on the journals of Parkinson, Banks and Cook, but often strayed far from the truth.

That, though, paled in comparison with the scrabble for Parkinson’s work. His brother, Stanfield Parkinson, claimed possession of the paintings and sketches, while Hawkesworth demanded the use of them, and Banks wanted control of them. In the end, Banks paid Stanfield £500 to cover the rights and Sydney’s unpaid salary, and Banks handed them over to a team of artists and engravers. By 1778, there were more than 500 plates engraved, but Banks had other fish to fry, and the illustrations remained unpublished until three volumes came out between 1900 and 1905.

One example stands out. In writing about St Helena, Hawkesworth recorded (incorrectly and in Cook’s name) that there were no wheeled vehicles on the island, not even wheelbarrows. When Cook called in

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William Ellis (c.1756–1785) View of Adventure Bay, Van Diemen’s Land, New Holland 1777

Banks was distracted because, after a foolish dispute about the shape of lightning conductors, King George III and the Royal Society had fallen out. The King had called upon the Royal Society to contradict Benjamin Franklin—kite-flyer, polymath and American revolutionary—who recommended pointy ends on lightning rods, while the King favoured blunt ones. With regret, the society’s president, Sir John Pringle, declined the royal request.

This scientist who ate his evidence is widely commemorated in Australia. Bankstown, Cape Banks, where one can find ‘Neptune’s necklace’ or ‘Bubble-weed’, Hormosira banksii, and the Banksia genus all honour him. So do Grevillea banksii and a sundew, Drosera banksii, named by Robert Brown, a wild pepper, Piper banksii, and Eucalyptus banksii, the Tenterfield woollybutt. Poor young Parkinson is recalled only by a fig, Ficus parkinsonii.

Banks, who had been advising the unstable King about Kew Gardens, became president in Pringle’s place. Now he had some serious power and influence of his own. He was still president when he died in 1820, having shaped the colony of New South Wales.

Whereas Banks paid naturalists to be observant for him, the next two curious visitors, a scientist and an artist, were both highly observant of nature.

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Putting Australian Nature on the Map

An Unheralded Young Man Charles Darwin (1809–1882)

Hear this ye Rulers! hear the truth sublime— He who allows oppression, shares the crime. —Attributed to Erasmus Darwin, 1790 14

Darwin became a naturalist out of horror. As a medical student in 1820s Edinburgh, he had to watch ‘two very bad operations, one on a child, but I rushed away before they were completed’. Recalling this as an old man, he added that in a later age, things might have been different, but this was ‘long before the blessed days of chloroform’.15

The plan was to provide FitzRoy with a gentleman companion—a civilian outside the chain of command, with whom the captain, normally required to stay aloof, could have more normal relations. Because FitzRoy was interested in science, he wanted a scientist, and was pleased with the choice, on account of Darwin’s fondness for all branches of natural history.

So, Charles Darwin fled medicine and took up geology. He also acquired a good measure of training in botany, as happened in an era when science was mainly for gentlemen with curious minds that ran off in all directions.

By the time he reached Sydney in January 1836, Darwin had been at sea, aside from various excursions ashore, for just over four years. The side trips on land had shown him many new things and broadened his understanding, but he was also yearning for home. He wrote to his sister Caroline from the Bay of Islands in New Zealand, complaining that there ‘is no more Geology, but plenty of sea-sickness’. His notes as he passed over the Blue Mountains heading west show that he was geologising happily, but whatever the reason, he seems not to have met many colonists.

Most of his later work involved animals: barnacles, earthworms, coral polyps and humans, but it was J.S. Henslow, professor of botany at Cambridge, who proposed Darwin’s name as a naturalist for a five-year survey voyage on HMS Beagle to conduct explorations along the coastline of South America and across the South Pacific. He would travel with the Beagle’s captain, Robert FitzRoy.

In 1835, the name ‘Darwin’ appeared some 60 times in The Sydney Monitor. In each case, the name was attached to two stirring lines of verse, stating the paper’s opinion:

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Robert Marsh Westmacott (1801–1870) View of Sydney Harbour from the Domain c.1840–1846

Sydney-Cove, near Botany-­Bay’. Here is a portion, and if you squint a little, you may even be able to detect the Harbour Bridge and Manly ferries between the lines:

Hear this ye Senates! hear the truth sublime— He who allows oppression, shares the crime (Darwin) 16

These words came not from Charles, but from his grandfather, Erasmus Darwin, who was then held in high regard for his rather turgid poetry. Thanks to the grandfather, the name ‘Darwin’ would have been well known to literate Sydneysiders.

There shall broad streets their stately walls extend, The circus widen, and the crescent bend; There, rayed from cities o’er the cultured land, Shall bright canals, and solid roads expand. There the proud arch, colossus-like, bestride Yon glittering streams, and bound the chasing tide; Embellished villas crown the landscape-scene, Farms wave with gold, and orchards blush between. There shall tall spires, and dome-capped towers ascend, And piers and quays their massy structures blend; While with each breeze approaching vessels glide, And northern treasures dance on every tide! 17

Erasmus Darwin had a famous link with Sydney. When Governor Phillip sent Sydney clay back to London in 1789, Josiah Wedgwood created a medallion depicting Sydney Cove. An engraving of this medallion appeared in Phillip’s The Voyage to Botany Bay, along with a verse by Erasmus Darwin titled ‘Visit of Hope to

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Sydney still lacks bright canals and glittering streams, but this verse—the first published about the infant colony—was sure to be known in Sydney, as were some of Darwin senior’s other poems. So it would be reasonable if a frisson of excitement energised the culture-deprived burghers of Sydney when the grandson of a literary master reached town.

of which has been out upwards of four years, and no entertainment for them at Head Quarters! 20

Darwin didn’t attend. At the time of the party, he was far from Sydney, on the western side of the Blue Mountains, riding a horse through bushfires, up Victoria Pass to the Weatherboard Inn at today’s Wentworth Falls. To him, the important thing was seeing the country, the geology, the plants and the animals.

HMS Beagle dropped anchor in Sydney Harbour on 12 January 1836, but nobody seems to have noticed the presence of the poet–doctor’s grandson. No keen scribe rushed down to gather and publish the names of those on board, as they might have done later in the century. This was just another naval ship, and after so long at sea, unlikely to carry news from ‘Home’:

He mixed with a small circle of friends and acquaintances. He met Aboriginal people and went on a kangaroo hunt. He observed ant lions in the sand on a creek bank, and a Mr Browne shot a platypus so he could examine it closely:

H. M. Ship Beagle, which arrived yesterday has been out four years on a surveying trip on the coast of South America. She left the Bay of Islands, 30th ult., and goes on to England direct on the 30th of this month.18

In the evening however, we went with a gun in pursuit of the Platypi & actually killed one.— I consider it a great feat to be in at the death of so wonderful an animal.21

Rather more of interest to the reporter than the crew was the ship itself:

The young naturalist wasn’t entirely invisible. He dined with Captain Phillip Parker King, the son of the former Governor Philip Gidley King, on his last night in New South Wales. As a lieutenant, the younger King had circumnavigated Australia with botanist and explorer Allan Cunningham. The next day, Darwin hurried off to Sydney:

H. M. S. Beagle, 18 guns, is the first barque rigged man of war, that has been in this port. She belongs to the South American station, and hoists a white ensign. H. M. B. Zebra, lies at an anchor below Macquarie Fort. Her ensign is white too.19

The crew, as a group, were worthy of some notice, even if their naturalist wasn’t. On Saturday, 23 January, the two ships’ companies were given a grand party, hosted by the leader of the colony’s scientific community:

H. M. Surveying Ship Beagle, goes to sea this morning; her route is Hobart Town, King George’s Sound, and Swan River, thence to England, touching at various intermediate ports.22

The Hon. Alexander M’Leay gave a splendid entertainment, at Elizabeth Bay, on Saturday last, to the Officers of H. M. Ships Beagle and Zebra, to which were invited most of the élite of Sydney. The Band of the 17th Regiment was in attendance, and every thing passed off in the most agreeable manner. It was expected that Government House would have set the example, as there are two Men-of-war in Port; one

So, nobody said later: ‘Ah, yes, young Darwin: remember him?’ He seems to have come to Sydney and left like a wraith, and the first appearance in the Australian press of Charles-the-rising-scientist was in August 1836, in a story taken from the Oxford Herald:

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Josiah Wedgwood Wedgwood medallion made from dark grey clay from Sydney Cove, 1789

‘Yon glittering streams, and bound the chasing tide; Embellished villas crown the landscape-scene, Farms wave with gold, and orchards blush between.’ —Erasmus Darwin

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Sydney Harbour c.1840

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Valparaiso, Novr 12, ’34, Quebrada Elios 1834

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) The Lighthouse, Port Jackson 1850

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His ideas on evolution divided the budding Australian scientific community. Not surprisingly, given the view that Australian animals were curious and inverted, one part of the theory of natural selection had come to Darwin on the bank of the Coxs River, not far from Lithgow, west of the Blue Mountains, when he looked at ant lions.

Afterwards a communication was read from C. Darwin Esq., containing a notice that certain animals (lizards, &c) which are oviparous in certain districts of South America, as they are in this country, are viviparous in the province of Mendoza, which he visited.23

The first real recognition of Darwin the scientist came in a breathless account of his views on the geology of the Andes in The Colonist.24 The report appears to have been taken from a British paper and, once again, there is no hint of any Australian brush with fame. He wasn’t important enough for the penny to drop, not yet.

Throughout the voyage, Darwin had been musing on the variety of life. During this time, he had seen the parallels between the platypus (a monotreme) and the European water vole (a placental). He had observed that the emu was similar to the ostrich of Africa and the rhea of South America. Then he came across an ant-lion trap that resembled the pit of a similar European insect: ‘Would any two workmen ever hit on so beautiful, so simple and yet so artificial a contrivance? I cannot think so’.26 Darwin had come to realise that animals with very different backgrounds could adapt in similar ways to similar environments—the seeds of the theory of evolution.

Equally, the notice of Darwin’s work on the natural history observations made on the Beagle in The Sydney Herald makes no mention of any Australian connection.25 He had come and gone, and other than his hosts, it seems, nobody had even noticed him. In the decade in which Darwin wrote The Origin of Species, published late in 1859, science changed forever. Somewhere in that decade, science advanced so fast on so many fronts that the Renaissance man–dilettante model of the scientist was overthrown. It was no longer possible for any one person to master fully all of the aspects of anatomy, mathematics, geology, physiology, electricity, physics, chemistry, thermodynamics, taxonomy and so on. The age of the specialist was dawning, long before most of today’s many branches of science were even invented.

Although his visit caused hardly a ripple, Charles Darwin is on the map of Australia. After HMS Beagle returned to England and dropped him off, the ship returned to Australian waters to survey the northern coasts. In 1839, Port Darwin was named by the Beagle’s Lieutenant John Lort Stokes, just as people started to sit up and pay attention to Charles Darwin, but the town once known as Palmerston only took the name ‘Darwin’ in 1911.

Some people would say that the world changed forever when Darwin published his book, and the world did, indeed, change around that time. It is open to debate whether Darwin’s brilliant idea for explaining the known facts of evolution was the cause of the changes, or whether his book was just another symptom of far wider changes that were happening then.

The brilliant naturalist Darwin has certainly stayed on the map, unlike the brilliant natural history artist Ferdinand Bauer, who was taken off the map by an act of petty stupidity.

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Putting Australian Nature on the Map

Scrubbed from the Map

Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826), Robert Brown (1773–1858) and Matthew Flinders (1774–1814) They suffered all the hardships it is possible to imagine upon the sea, and for what? for fame, for glory? That their names and achievements might be handed down to us; and this seems to have been their only reward; for there was no Geographical Society’s medal in those days with its motto to spur them on. —Ernest Giles, 1889 27 In the early 1800s, HMS Investigator carried three men: arguably Australia’s greatest navigator, Australia’s greatest botanical illustrator and Australia’s greatest botanist. The navigator was Matthew Flinders, who had already worked the Australian coasts as a midshipman.

Back in London, he later found that every cell has a nucleus, and discovered Brownian motion, an effect that had to wait almost 80 years for Albert Einstein to explain. Thanks to that chance observation, Brown is probably better known to devotees of physics than to admirers of biology.

Ferdinand Bauer was widely regarded as a matchless botanical illustrator. So who was Australia’s greatest botanist? According to Joseph Henry Maiden, himself a renowned botanist, it was:

Flinders arrived in Australia in 1795 as a midshipman, was promoted to lieutenant in early 1798, and left Australia in 1800, returning to England to write up and publish the records of his coastal work. He sailed back to Australia in 1801, charged with charting Australia’s coasts, and was immediately promoted to commander—a rapid rise, indeed.

Robert Brown, the botanist of Flinders’ expedition of 1802, who spent three years on these shores, and who produced the most marvellous systematic botanic work in history. It contained descriptions of thousands of Australian plants. Brown was one of the most remarkable botanists of any age, but the public in general know little about him.28

Reliable charts of shoals, reefs, places of hidden currents and other dangers only come from the efforts of curious minds. Achieving published reliable charts, however, requires more than just curiosity. On long sea voyages, the uncunning and unskilled were apt to die, while the clever ones became famous. Winning fame was made easier if there were other curious minds aboard, able to make sense of what they saw. Flinders had a wealth of skill and cunning and curious minds aplenty—though first they had to sign an agreement:

Brown began his working life as an army surgeon’s mate in Ireland, but his part-time botanical work caught the eye of Sir Joseph Banks. Sent to Australia with Matthew Flinders, Brown stayed in the various colonies from 1801 to 1805, and was involved in many scientific activities, including being on hand to examine the first koala caught by Europeans.

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William Westall (1781–1850) Self-portrait of William Westall c.1820

‘we shall be in their Lordships’ employ, have signed our names to this engagement’

Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826) Stewartia serrata c.1800

We the undersigned, Robert Brown, naturalist; William Westall, landscape and figure draughtsman; Ferdinand Bauer, botanic draughtsman; Peter Good, gardener; and John Allen, Miner, in testimony of our concurrence in the above terms, and as a pledge for obedience to all such instructions and commands as their Lordships shall be pleas’d to issue to us during the time we shall be in their Lordships’ employ, have signed our names to this engagement on the 29th day of April, the year of our Lord, 1801.29

Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826) Platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus)

Flinders needed two artists. In the days when getting a reliable longitude was still difficult, views of unknown coastlines and key features on them could be drawn, painted, engraved and printed for other mariners to use as reference. As a figure draughtsman, William Westall would also create images of exotic races for the delectation of a home audience. Ferdinand Bauer, on the other hand, would make reliable records from living specimens of the plants and animals that Brown collected, while Peter Good was mainly expected to collect seed that could be taken back to Kew. John Allen’s task as ‘miner’ was to

William Westall (1781–1850) Mount Westall, View South-East 1802

William Westall (1781–1850) Wreck of the Porpoise, Flinders Expedition 1802

act as geologist (a term hardly used then), and look out for valuable minerals.

already. The large variety of ferns started him thinking about the way the location of plants and geography interact with each other, a matter Brown set down in an appendix to Flinders’ Voyage to Terra Australis. In a scientific journal, the idea might have gone nowhere, but it appeared in what was, in its day, a bestseller. In it, readers encountered one of the cornerstones of later evolutionary thinking. In the end, only half of Brown’s 3,000 plant specimens were new to science, but things could have been much worse. He might have lost all of them.

Brown studied medicine at the university in Edinburgh, but switched to natural history and botany. He left without a degree to join the army in 1795. Safely away from the wars with the French, he served in Ulster until 1800 and botanised happily. He was made an associate of the Linnean Society and was well-enough known to be nominated to join Flinders’ coastal survey expedition. In the summer of 1803–1804, Brown spent six months in Van Diemen’s Land, collecting merrily, only to learn later that La Billardière had described most of the plants

The Investigator was in poor shape, and so the naturalists were left to continue their explorations while

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William Westall (1781–1850) King George’s Sound, View from the North-west 1801

William Westall (1781–1850) Chasm Island, Native Cave Painting, 1803

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William Westall (1781–1850) Thistle Island, a Snake 1802

William Westall (1781–1850) Views on the East Coast of Australia 1802

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Flinders sailed back to England to obtain a new ship to continue their coastal surveys. The best of Brown’s collections were sent off on board the Porpoise, but in late August 1803, the Porpoise and an accompanying vessel, the Cato, were both wrecked on the same coral reef, just past the Tropic of Capricorn. The ‘garden’ (growing plants) and the pressed specimens were all lost, but gardener Peter Good’s seed collections and Brown’s letters were saved.

German-sounding places in Queensland were renamed, but the key target was South Australia, where many Germans had settled in the middle of the nineteenth century. By 1916, their descendants were well and truly Australian, but that seemed to matter little. Cartographic cleansers scanned the map, and saw it disfigured by a rash of names ‘of enemy origin’, as they quaintly termed them. Those names had to go, and out they went, including Cape Bauer. The Queenslanders may have failed to spot Minden and rename it, but nothing eluded the South Australian legislature. Even the names of former German-named cabinet ministers who had loyally served with distinction went, so Bauer had no chance.

Brown may have feared shipwreck or water-damage, because he wrote to Sir Joseph Banks that the Porpoise was crowded, and ‘so wet a ship’.30 Whatever the reason, he only sent some of his specimens back (sadly, the best ones), but held onto duplicates of most. While Good made useful contributions (mainly by collecting seed of ‘horticultural merit’), he unfortunately died in Timor on the voyage home, and so is barely even a historical footnote.

John Cleveley (c.1745–1786) Bauera capitata Ser. 1773

There is a basic rule about naming localities, laws or living things: you don’t name things after yourself, but it can be an incestuous practice. Bass Strait was named by Flinders, Flinders Island was named by Bass, somebody else named Brown’s River in Tasmania, Banks collected the first Banksia, but it was baptised by Linnaeus’ son, and Bauera was named by Banks. When Flinders named Cape Bauer near Streaky Bay on the South Australian coast, he was paying his friend and shipmate, Ferdinand Bauer, a compliment. By the time Australian troops withdrew from Gallipoli at the end of 1915, the war was going badly on the home front and people had begun to lose their enthusiasm for warfare in general, and that war in particular. German-sounding places in Australia began to be renamed. Germantown near Geelong, Germanton near Albury and a swag of

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Adam Forster (1848–1928) Goodia lotifolia 1925

Putting Australian Nature on the Map

Pioneering Ladies

Amalie Dietrich (1821–1891) and Georgiana Molloy (1805–1843) I like best to collect plants, but the animal world here offers so much of interest that I turn my attention joyfully to all the various fields. —Amalie Dietrich, 1867 31

Early botanical collectors rarely achieved fame for their efforts in collecting specimens. The honour was in describing and naming newly discovered plants in a scientific journal. Yet, these early collectors were often exceptionally talented, and worked under challenging conditions. Among them were two outstanding women, Georgiana Molloy and Amalie Dietrich. Molloy became one of the first collectors in the colony of Western Australia and Dietrich was a real rarity, a female professional collector.

Dietrich, on the other hand, did not care for appearances. She came from much poorer circumstances, married a man who taught her botany, enough to collect saleable herbs, and they had one child. Up until 1975, German apprentice apothecaries (pharmacists) needed to collect a herbarium as part of their training, and apothecaries needed supplies of herbs that were used in many medicines, so she was able to make a living helping her husband in the herb business, and became expert. Dietrich travelled widely with a dogcart, collecting and selling specimens. The marriage broke down in 1861, and Dietrich found work with a German shipping magnate, Johann Cesar VI Godeffroy, who wanted specimens for his private museum in Hamburg.

Englishwoman Molloy married a bemedalled officer who had narrowly survived wounds gained at Waterloo. They sailed for the Swan River settlement, arriving in 1830, and aimed to carve out a future of wealth in a new land.

Dietrich sailed for Australia, arriving in Brisbane in August 1863, and headed into the Queensland bush. She lived in ragged clothes with only a cat for company, and gathered all that she found. Primarily a plant collector, Dietrich caught and sent back enough spiders to be singled out for credit by German entomologist Ludwig Koch when he wrote the first study of

Captain John Molloy (who seems somehow to have become Colonel Molloy at a later date) was a gentleman and the local magistrate. The couple mixed with the best people, though Georgiana bore seven children and rarely had any servants, which must have made it difficult to keep up appearances.

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Australian spiders, Die Arachniden Australiens nach der Natur, which appeared in parts from 1871: Frau Amalie Dietrich sammelte an der Ostküste des Festlandes, — besonders bei Brisbane (27½˚ S.B.) und Port Mackay (19˚ S.B.) und Bowen (Port Denisson) (20˚ S.B.).32

That is: Mrs. Amalie Dietrich collected on the east coast of the mainland, — particularly at Brisbane (27½˚S) and Port Mackay (19˚S) and Bowen (Port Denisson) (20˚S).

That snippet aside, the main evidence for her activities comes from a biography written by her daughter, Charitas Bischoff, some time after her mother’s death. The biography includes letters written by her mother, but author Ray Sumner has shown that many of the letters are either fabricated or at least embroidered, presumably by the daughter, because they contain mistakes no botanist or botanical collector would have made.33 It seems likely, though, that Amalie Dietrich captured the first taipan taken by a European, and the account of her gutting a 22-foot (6.7 metre) crocodile could well be true. She certainly had wasps named after her: Nortonia Amaliae (now Acarozumia amaliae) and Odynerus Dietrichianus (still in use, but now written Odynerus dietrichianus). The names suggest that she had provided the specimens.

Unknown artist Portrait of Georgiana Molloy

aborigines as possible, as well as their weapons and implements. Such things are very important for ethnology.34

One of Dietrich’s letters, unlikely to have been fabricated, reports that she sent ‘thirteen skeletons and several skulls’ to Hamburg, and refers to all the male skulls having an upper front tooth missing, which probably means these are Aboriginal remains. Then there is a letter, written by her employer:

Pillaging of Aboriginal remains and sacred objects was common at the time and was viewed as an acceptable practice, encouraged by museums and similar institutions. In Dietrich’s case, it was fodder for Young Earth Creationists, opponents of Darwinism, who have recently accused her of commissioning murders, so that she could send the remains to supporters of Darwin in Germany. In 1908, a Mackay historian, Henry Ling Roth, also made unsubstantiated claims about her:

We are glad to hear you intend going north, and would ask you again to send not only skeletons of the larger mammals, but also as many skeletons and skulls of

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Life was hard, and her papers show that she was ready to give up and return to Britain in 1836, when Captain James Mangles, a keen amateur botanist, wrote to her. Mangles had visited Governor Stirling, heard of her interest in plants generally, and asked her to collect for him. Too polite to refuse, she seems to have learned on the job, presumably with her children in tow. Before long, she was unearthing new species, delivering viable seed and pressed specimens far better than those sent in by professional botanists.

The celebrated Godeffroy Museum … had a collector on the coast from 1863 to 1873, who made several ineffectual efforts to induce squatters to shoot an aboriginal, so that she could send the skeleton to the Museum! On one occasion she asked an officer of the Native Police what he would take to shoot so and so, pointing to one of the Native Black Troopers. She got no human skins nor skeletons from the Mackay District.35

The tale is unlikely, given that she records having been saved from drowning by Aboriginal people. She was also a fine shot herself.

In 1839, the Molloys gave up the struggle to clear and farm the karri forests and moved about 100 kilometres north to Vasse, where they farmed more successfully. John Molloy was the local sub-registrar of births, deaths and marriages, their surviving daughters were thriving, and Georgiana Molloy had new lands to botanise over, but her time was running out.

While we know that Amalie Dietrich was trained as a botanical collector, Georgiana Molloy seems to have fallen into collecting by chance, though she had acquired a genteel love of gardens and plants before reaching Australia. She already had a garden when an invalided Indian Army officer, Colonel Hanson, called by, probably in late 1831.36 The Molloys were then at Augusta, south of the Margaret River in the south-west of Western Australia. Hanson reported on the visit in a pamphlet that was published in a Western Australian newspaper:

In December 1842, she bore a fifth daughter, but never left her bed after her daughter was born.39 By February, she had lost the use of one leg, and was suffering from bedsores. Her husband hired a carpenter to make a waterproof trough, which he filled with water before fitting a ‘mackintosh’ (a rain cloak) to make a ‘hydrostatic bed’—a waterbed in modern terms.

Mrs. Molloy’s garden abounds with the choicest flowers; but I am sorry to say I am unable to describe them more particularly, than that they are all of them very fragrant, and very beautiful.37

The new bed relieved her pain, but it was too late, and she died on 8 April 1843. It took nearly four months and a good deal of poor medical treatment to kill her, but that was colonial life in those days. She was only 38. We can only regret that she didn’t get further years to see her daughters marry well—and to perform further botanical wonders.40 She is remembered in the name of a West Australian shrub, Boronia molloyae, a name suggested by fellow collector James Drummond in 1842, but overlooked until the 1970s.

Georgiana Molloy, alone in the wilderness, producing daughters year after year (their only son drowned in a well), toiled, managed a household—and kept a garden. In a letter dated 7 November 1832, she wrote to her sister: ‘This is certainly a very beautiful place, but if it were not for domestic charms, the eye of the emigrant would soon weary of the unbounded limits of thickly clothed, dark green forests’.38 At first, her garden held only European plants, but her attitude changed, and by 1834, the local vegetation had attracted her attention.

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Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Anigozanthos manglesii c.1880

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The Pursuit of Platypuses

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George Bennett (1804–1893)



The Mystery of the Watling Collection 68



The Pursuit of Glittering Prizes

John White (c.1756–1832) and Thomas Watling (1762–c.1814)

Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–1895) and John Macgillivray (1821–1867)

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In time, the idea of visiting Australia ceased to be an adventure that only the most daring would volunteer for. Then again, it became a place that some visited involuntarily, for example, convict Thomas Watling. For others, such as Thomas Huxley, who might easily have become the first science professor at an Australian university, it was a place that one might visit and consider working in. It could also be the place to settle, which is what John Macgillivray and George Bennett did. For all of these naturalists, Australia had much to offer, but it was no longer exceptionally exotic.

The face of the country is deceitful; having every appearance of fertility; and yet productive of no one article in itself fit for the support of mankind. —Thomas Watling, c.1793 1

Australia Expanded

The Pursuit of Platypuses George Bennett (1804–1893)

Of all the Australian mammalia, none has excited so much attention as the Platypus or Water-Mole (Ornithorhynchus paradoxus, Blum.), both from its peculiar form, and the great desire evinced to ascertain the habits and economy of so singular a creature. —George Bennett, 1860 2

Louis Pasteur—who made the world-changing discovery that microbes were the cause of disease and could be countered with vaccines—was once accused of being lucky, and famously offered a response that translates as ‘chance favours the prepared mind’.3 George Bennett was also favoured by chance, and in possession of a prepared mind.

Bennett first visited Australia in 1829, returned again in 1832 and, finally, in 1835, for good. He established a medical practice in Sydney, was a leading figure in the development of the infant Australian Museum, corresponded with naturalists around the world, and acted as an agent for birdman John Gould. In 1860, Bennett wrote that he was curious from the start about the reproduction of marsupials and about the platypus, but nobody could give him any answers. Indeed, he despaired that most scientists sat around debating, rather than being engaged in hands-on research:

Bennett was born in 1804 in Plymouth, England, and his father’s occupation is sometimes given as ‘organist’, but there was clearly money in the family. He went to sea at 15 and travelled to Ceylon and Mauritius, before returning to London and starting medical studies. Along the way, he met and came to know Richard Owen, then a young anatomist struggling to make his name.

I found then, as I have found during an extended residence in the colony, that the majority preferred forming theories of their own, and arguing upon their plausibility, to devoting their time to the collection of facts.4

By the age of 24, Bennett was a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and eager to get back to sea. He joined a scientific expedition as surgeon– naturalist, visiting the Cape of Good Hope, Sydney, New Zealand, the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii), Tonga, Tahiti, Fiji, Samoa, the New Hebrides, the Philippines and Singapore. Everywhere, he collected specimens to carry home to England.

He returned again to chase platypus facts in 1832, but in his 1834 book (cited hereafter as Wanderings5) said ‘I was not able to procure a specimen’.6 In contrast, his 1860 book (cited hereafter as Gatherings) says he captured a live platypus and kept it in a cask with battens over one end, and that he set out in October 1831 for Sydney, planning to take his captive back to England.

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Unknown artist Portrait of Dr. George Bennett, F.Z.S. c.1840

George French Angas (1822–1886) Australian Water Mole: (Ornithorhynchus paradoxus)

On two occasions, the second at Bong Bong (near modern Bowral), he let the platypus out for a swim with a string tied to its leg so he could retrieve it. The battens must have been loose, because somewhere between Bong Bong and Mittagong, it escaped. He also said he obtained an adult and two young platypuses, and was able to keep them for a time before they died, and he illustrated them beautifully to accompany a paper that he wrote on the subject.

Bennett was good at making friends, and remarkably clever at choosing the right ones. Richard Owen was an excellent friend who was amply repaid for his efforts.7 Owen, too, would have benefited from having a man on the spot. Bennett had caught a rare pearly nautilus in the New Hebrides, the first living specimen seen in two centuries—that is, it had been living when the crew saw it. As the pearly nautilus tried to sink out of reach, a sailor had to break its shell with a boathook. Bennett might have written it up himself, but instead he handed it over to Richard Owen, then at the Royal College of Surgeons’ Hunterian Museum. Owen’s masterly 1832

Over the years, Bennett obtained many platypuses for Dr, later Professor, Richard Owen, in London, who was determined to discover the manner of their reproduction. Reading between the lines in Wanderings,

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account was a great hit and led to him being elected a fellow of the Royal Society in 1834. Bennett had a friend for life. Back in London in 1835, Bennett published many papers himself and was promptly elected as a fellow of the Linnean Society of London and as a corresponding member of the Zoological Society. He left England again in April 1835, stepping ashore in Sydney on 30 July. He came as a settler, but carried an appointment from the secretary of state for the colonies as curator to the Colonial Museum, which would become the Australian Museum later that year. Bennett married in November 1835, and to support a growing family, he needed to write articles. In 1841, his curator’s salary was reduced to £100 a year, so he resigned his post, turning to the practice of medicine. Bennett was registered as a practitioner from 1836 to 1882, and for most of that time he continued to send rare and valuable Australian material away from where it should have been held. Nobody objected: maybe Australians felt flattered that the heart of the Empire deigned to accept their humble fossils.

Advertisement for the Emeu voyage that carried George Bennett to Suez

Suez ‘Overland Route’ was already favoured by the well-to-do in a hurry. Bennett went to Mauritius and on to Suez, where a railway, completed in December 1858, carried him north to Cairo and Alexandria. At one time, the crossing had been a 36- to 48-hour marathon in carts or on donkeys to a point where a boat could be taken to Alexandria. Now it was a mere railway excursion.

Bennett sent no specimens to Owen for 12 years, but they still corresponded. In the mid-1850s, Bennett’s second wife had died, his children were older, his practice was successful, and he returned actively to science—trying to breed platypuses, without success. He now had the time (and the money) to extend his Sydney circle of friends, which included artist Conrad Martens and naturalist and painter George French Angas. Most importantly, Bennett began sending parcels to Owen again.

Once in London, he threw himself into scientific meetings and also the completion and publication of Gatherings. He also attended a meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science (the BA) in Oxford and delivered a paper on the nuts of the ‘vegetable ivory palm’ (Phytelephas macrocarpa).8 The nuts were being used mainly for making buttons.

In March 1859, Bennett left Sydney for a planned trip to England on the P&O steamship Emeu. The first work excavating the Suez Canal began a month later, but the

He may have been in the audience for the famous evolution debate between T.H. Huxley and ‘Soapy Sam’

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Wilberforce on 30 June at the Oxford University Museum of Natural History. Wilberforce was encouraged by Richard Owen, while Huxley was defending Bennett’s occasional correspondent, Charles Darwin.

gentlemen and ladies) on application being made to Mr. ELLIOTT, Australian Library.10

Australia had matured: now even ladies could obtain cards of admission. One wonders, though, if they would have been welcome to express an opinion? Sydney’s Acclimatisation Society flourished until 1871, when it was disbanded. Bennett turned more to medical education. Even before there was a medical faculty at Sydney’s University, he was an examiner there in 1856. Medical training in the colony was later to become a formal university course, but the changes were slow, and Bennett, J.C. Cox and Normand MacLaurin were the last three medical men in New South Wales who had apprentices indentured to them for medical training.11

Bennett was no Darwinist—he just wasn’t convinced, which was a fairly common Australian attitude until the 1880s. Darwin’s explanation for the facts of evolution eventually gained scientific acceptance in Australia, partly as elderly opponents died off, partly when scientists found something that convinced them, and partly when leading European scientists embraced the idea. In the long run, Bennett continued to work effectively in science, without needing Darwinian ideas.

We will encounter both Dr Cox and Dr Bennett again later.

In July 1860, still in London, he attended a council meeting in London of the Society for the Acclimatisation of Animals in the United Kingdom, where he was elected as a corresponding member. According to the meeting minutes: Mr Bennett promised to present to the society a cage which he had invented for the transmission of birds across sea, and also to bring to the next council meeting some specimens of the ‘laughing jackass’ in his possession.9

There is no trace of those kookaburras today, but Bennett returned to Australia in December, inspired and ready to work again. En route, he met Miss Sarah Adcock, who soon became his third wife. Once home, however, it was time to fill the gaps in Australian nature: ACCLIMATISATION—A LECTURE will be delivered on this subject by Dr. GEORGE BENNETT, at the Australian Library, Bent-street, on MONDAY next, the 28th instant, at 8 p.m. His Excellency Sir John Young will preside, and be accompanied by Lady Young. The Provisional Committee will have pleasure in providing cards of admission (available for

Unknown artist Portrait of George Bennett c.1900

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George Raper (1769–1796) Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) c.1788

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Australia Expanded

The Mystery of the Watling Collection John White (c.1756–1832) and Thomas Watling (1762–c.1814)

As to Watling … his crime was deeper, viz., forgery. He will be an acquisition to the new Colony at Botany Bay, tho’ perhaps it may be right to recommend him to the attention of those in Command there on acct. of the merit he had in this late affair. —Hay Campbell, Lord Advocate, c.1789 12

The First Fleet set out for Australia in 1787 with a supply of convicts. It was a good supply, if you only count warm bodies, but there was a severe lack of skills. It had an adequate supply of intelligent officers, who were needed to save the infant colony at Sydney Cove, but it was a near-run thing, because Joseph Banks’ enthusiastic reports about the rich meadows at Botany Bay were sadly amiss.

surgical instruments on the transports.15 Somebody had not been thinking! There were no farmers, no naturalists, no botanists and nobody who understood mining or geology. So in the absence of surgical instruments, the surgeons might have a better chance of getting out and bothering the wildlife. Luckily, the settlement’s medical men managed to satisfy both roles.

Even with the produce of gardens in the fertile soils of Norfolk Island, the birds taken from Lord Howe Island, and the fish caught by some of the officers who went out every second night, the early colony almost starved to the point where order broke down.

As chief surgeon of the First Fleet, John White established a hospital and controlled the scurvy and dysentery that had broken out, and he travelled as a naturalist with Arthur Phillip when the governor went exploring.

The soil around Sydney Harbour was poor and sandy, except at Parramatta. The tools, according to the governor of New South Wales, Arthur Phillip, were atrocious: ‘I cannot help repeating that most of the tools were as bad as ever were sent out for barter on the coast of Guinea,’ he wrote.13 There were also no musket balls for the marines, nor paper for cartridges, but Phillip wrote to Lord Sydney from Tenerife, asking that both these items be sent by the next ship to sail out to the colony.14 There were plenty of medical men, but a lack of

White sent many drawings and specimens back to England, and in late 1788, he sent back the journal he had been keeping since he joined the First Fleet. It was edited and published in 1790 as Journal of a Voyage to New South Wales, with 65 engravings, created in Britain from sketches and preserved specimens. For two years, until he left Sydney at the end of 1794, White had Thomas Watling assigned to him as a convict servant. The convict was a competent artist, and he had

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Thomas Watling (1762–c.1814) Skink c.1795

‘The soil around Sydney Harbour was poor and sandy, except at Parramatta. The tools, according to the governor of New South Wales, Arthur Phillip, were atrocious’

John Hunter (1737–1821) Eastern Grey Kangaroo (Macropus giganteus) c.1788–1790

probably used his skills to forge guinea notes. After denying the charge and then considering the evidence, he petitioned the judges to allow him to submit voluntarily to transportation. This guaranteed him some world travel, but ensured that he would not hang, as he might have done if he had gone to trial. Fortunately, for Watling and for early Australian natural history, the authorities agreed.

he informed on them. This was risky, because he would be known as an informant. It failed to pay off, and he won no remission. Instead, he was sent to Sydney in the Pitt in July 1791, but escaped at Cape Town. He was soon recaptured by ‘the mercenary Dutch’, as he called them. South Africa was then a Dutch possession, but they held him for seven months before handing him over to the next suitable British ship. He finally arrived in Sydney on 7 October 1792 in the Royal Admiral. This time, luck was on his side because he was assigned almost immediately to White, who badly needed a skilled artist.

Watling clearly wanted an easy life. He and other villains were being hauled on a small ship to a Plymouth hulk, and when the others plotted to take over the ship,

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Thomas Watling (artist, 1762–c.1814), William Staden Blake (engraver, c.1748–1822) A View of the Town of Sydney in the Colony of New South Wales Taken from the Rising Ground near the Court House on the West Side of the Cove 1802

Watling wrote to his aunt that his work involved painting the ‘non-descript productions of the country’. His ‘non-descript’ subjects were by no means nondescript in our modern sense. They were just species new to science—that is, as yet undescribed.

Collection was probably produced at or near Sydney between 1788 and 1794, and some of the items are almost certainly not by Watling. There are 512 drawings by various hands, including 123 that bear Watling’s signature. Art experts suspect another 20 are his, even though they are unsigned. The definite Watlings include landscapes, studies of Aboriginal people and many natural history drawings. The other works are assigned to a collection of artists now referred to as the Port Jackson Painter or Sydney Bird Painter. Regardless of the artist, several of these paintings were the basis of the first scientific descriptions of several Australian species,

Now for the mystery: White’s book was issued in 1790, and Watling arrived in 1792, yet some of the book’s engravings have matching paintings in what is known as the Watling Collection, which now rests in the zoological library of the British Museum (Natural History), having been sent to London so engravings could be made from the paintings. The Watling

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such as the magpie goose. The goose no longer occurs around Sydney, so the paintings are significant in that they show what was there on European arrival.

which was made absolute seven months later. He was free to go, and off he went, taking with him a child he had fathered by an unknown mother.

A large number of the ‘Watlings’ have been extensively annotated in John White’s handwriting, so White probably gathered up the collection and took it to England in 1794. When White returned to Britain, he was keen to stay, but was told either to return to Sydney or resign his post. He chose to resign and planned a second book, which never eventuated. White then served as a surgeon in the Sheerness and Chatham shipyards until 1820.

Watling probably went to Calcutta, where there was a miniature painter bearing his name for a while, and then he turned up in Scotland in about 1804, only to be charged with forging seven five-pound notes in 1806, getting off with that delightfully Scots verdict of ‘not proven’. Later he went to London, where he sought assistance from former governor Hunter, now an admiral. Watling developed breast cancer, and he probably died a pauper’s death in 1814. In some ways, it would have been better if he had been kept in Sydney, engaged in producing more of his illustrations of the many oddities of Australian nature, keeping his inventive mind away from the temptation to drift back to crime.

Back in Sydney, Watling was still a convict, then assigned to David Collins, the judge advocate. In September 1795, Governor John Hunter became the second governor of the young colony, and Watling’s prospects looked up. After a year of service to the governor, Watling received a conditional pardon

Port Jackson Painter (active 1788–1794) Marsupial, ‘Flying Squirrel or Mouse’ c.1788–1797

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John Hunter (1737–1821) Handsome Wedge Pea (Gompholobium grandiflorum) c.1788–1790

John Hunter (1737–1821) Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) c.1788–1790

Australia Expanded

The Pursuit of Glittering Prizes

Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–1895) and John Macgillivray (1821–1867) A naturalist having been permitted to accompany you, every reasonable facility is to be given him in making and preserving his collections. —Admiralty instruction to Owen Stanley, HMS Rattlesnake, 1846 16

When HMS Rattlesnake left Plymouth in December 1846, two of the ship’s company, Thomas Henry Huxley and John Macgillivray, had great hopes, though one of them was far better placed to achieve them. Macgillivray was the naturalist on the ship, the oldest son of William Macgillivray, a famous British ornithologist who had been the Regius professor of natural history at Marischal College in Aberdeen.17 At 25, young Macgillivray had already completed one cruise in Australian and New Guinea waters after giving up his medical studies at Edinburgh.

a drinking problem, and the signs of this were present early in their cruise. Huxley noted that his excursions with Macgillivray in Rio de Janeiro always ‘took in the end a chemical turn’, that is, they involved consuming an iced drink called a sherry cobbler.18 Even at Sullivan’s Cove in Van Diemen’s Land, he records that they had imbibed ‘considerable quantities of toddy’.19 Huxley was certainly impressed by the Scot’s talents as a naturalist, describing him to his mother as ‘at any rate a very good ornithologist, and, I can testify, is exceedingly zealous in his vocation as a collector’.20 Later, Huxley would become less welldisposed to Macgillivray. This may have been because Macgillivray worked slowly on the official report of the cruise, or it may have been a reaction to Macgillivray’s poor treatment of his wife, or his addiction to the bottle—which surely contributed to the other issues.

Huxley was the seventh son of a schoolmaster. He had little training in science before he became a medical apprentice at 16, after which he joined the naval medical service at 21. He was obviously interested in natural history, and was appointed as ‘assistant surgeon and naturalist’ when HMS Rattlesnake was sent to survey Australia’s north-eastern waters. In effect, he could have been Macgillivray’s bottle-washer. He was lucky they got on well.

HMS Rattlesnake reached Sydney in July 1847, and was in and out of Port Jackson for three years. Huxley became good friends with scholar and naturalist William Sharp Macleay. In Sydney’s Newtown, Huxley met Henrietta Heathorn, whom he married in London

Macgillivray may have lacked ambition, even if he was enthusiastic and usually energetic. He certainly had

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in 1855. For his part, Macgillivray married Williamina Paton Gray, the daughter of a Scottish-born Sydney surgeon, in Sydney in 1848.21 The Rattlesnake visited Melbourne and Hobart, as well as cruising the tropical waters of the Great Barrier Reef, the Louisiade Archipelago and New Guinea. Both Macgillivray and Huxley became fascinated with the people of the islands, and they began to mix with them on shore. It took some time to win the islanders’ confidence: Mr. Huxley as usual, was at work with his sketch-book, and I employed myself in procuring words for an incipient vocabulary. My principal informant was called Wadai, a little withered old man with shaved head, on which someone had stuck a red night-cap which greatly took his fancy. Not being of so volatile a nature as the others he remained patiently with me for half an hour.22

Unknown artist Portrait of John MacGillivray 1937

It was rather more difficult, though, to get sketches of the women: An axe was offered to one of the men, who had previously sat for his portrait, to induce him to bring the woman to Mr. Huxley, who was anxious to get a sketch of a female, but in spite of the strong inducement we did not succeed, and any further notice taken of the woman seemed to give offence.23

While coastal people were more used to traders and so more peaceful, the visitors were all wary of offending, but there were times when Huxley, in particular, could have dived headlong into disaster. The Rattlesnake accompanied Edmund Kennedy’s Cape York expedition to its starting point, and one of the sketches in Huxley’s diary shows him onshore with them. Had his duties allowed it, he would have happily travelled on with them, and may well have died as many of the expedition did.24

Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–1895) Self-portrait 1847

Unknown artist H.M.S. Rattlesnake off the Australian Coast c.1848

The duties of a naturalist included recording the native peoples, the geology, and the plants, animals and other resources, such as minerals. From New Guinea Macgillivray could report:

(snails) and tunicates. The animals made his reputation, and his paper ‘On the Anatomy and Affinities of the Family of the Medusae’ was communicated to the Royal Society in 1849. He was elected as a fellow of the Royal Society before his 27th birthday, and in 1852, the society awarded him their royal medal. Macgillivray was a fellow of the Royal Geographic Society, but never made it to FRS.

That gold exists in the western and northern portions of New Guinea has long been known, that it exists also on the south-eastern shores of that great island is equally true, as a specimen of pottery procured at Redscar Bay contained a few small laminar grains of this precious metal. The clay in which the gold is embedded was probably part of the great alluvial deposit on the banks of the rivers, the mouths of which we saw in that neighbourhood, doubtless originating in the high mountains behind, part of the Owen Stanley Range.25

HMS Rattlesnake reached England in November 1850, and Huxley began seeking a post that would give him the financial stability to marry. He applied unsuccessfully for several chairs of zoology, and even considered seeking the chair of natural history at the University of Sydney, telling William Sharp Macleay, ‘I know no finer field for exertion for any Naturalist

Huxley, back in the European scientific world, concentrated on hydrozoans (jellyfish), molluscs

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than Sydney Harbour itself’.26 Then, in 1854, the good news finally came, in a London story:

publishers as a result of his delays. Macgillivray’s relationship with Huxley declined. Early in 1851, Huxley wrote in a letter to a Dr Thomson: ‘I see him occasionally—on business only’.29 By June, in another letter to Thomson, Huxley referred to Macgillivray as ‘the primary mud-volcano’ and mentioned that Macgillivray was distressed.30

Our School of Mines here, in Jermyn street, has just lost one of its ablest professors, in the person of Edward Forbes, who now fills the chair of Natural History in Edinburgh: he is a loss to London in more senses than one. His place in the School of Mines is occupied by Mr Huxley, a young and promising naturalist, well known, among other researches, for the excellent use he made of his three years’ opportunities in the late surveying voyage of the Rattlesnake.27

Much to Huxley’s surprise, the book came out, and later in 1852, Macgillivray sailed for the Pacific once again, this time as naturalist on HMS Herald. He was deeply in debt and, it would appear, an alcoholic. Sir William Hooker, the director of Kew and, like his late good friend Sir Joseph Banks, a highly influential figure, had proposed another man who was unavailable, but John Gould recommended Macgillivray for the post.

Now Henrietta could sail to London and they could marry. The schoolmaster’s son had made it. He always retained an interest in Australia, and especially in the Queensland lungfish (Ceratodus, named by Gerard Krefft and closely studied by William Hay Caldwell, both of whom will feature later). In 1876, Huxley had two specimens of Ceratodus, one obtained for him by his ‘friend Sir George Macleay … on a recent visit to Australia’. One specimen was 32 inches (81 centimetres) long, the other 30 inches (76 centimetres), but ‘considerably stouter’. Huxley’s studies did little more than confirm the description offered when the first specimen had reached London, five years earlier.28

Unknown artist Portrait of Biologist T.H. Huxley

More importantly, Huxley was available in London to play his self-appointed role as ‘Darwin’s bulldog’, offering informed debate on the causes of evolution. It’s interesting to speculate what might have happened to Australian (and world) evolutionary thought if Huxley had been a professor of biology here. Macgillivray returned to England in 1850, and spent the next two years laboriously compiling the two volumes of Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, and causing much anguish to the

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I did not succeed as respects the interpreter; but, through Messrs. Geddie and Inglis, the missionaries at Aneiteum, and Mr. Paddon, a merchant at Tana, we obtained sufficient ship’s provisions (except spirits) to carry us through our undertaking, and were enabled to, shape a direct course for the Solomon Group, now about 1200 miles northward of us, on the evening of the 6th of December.32

It would be a shame, however, to concentrate on Macgillivray’s weaknesses. He did some marvellous work in biology, and that should be his true memorial. After the dismissal, he worked where he could, failing to win the vacant post of curator at the Australian Museum. He wrote scientific papers, and was secretary of Sydney’s Horticultural Improvement Society.33 In 1857, he contributed to an almanac, and the advertisement is worth quoting in full:

Oswald Walters Brierly (1817–1894) H.M.S. Rattlesnake ... Commanded by Captain Owen Stanley R.N.: Finding an Entrance through the Reefs into the Louisiade Archipelago, S.E. Extreme, New Guinea, June 14th, 1849

THIS DAY PUBLISHED, COX and CO.’S AUSTRALIAN ALMANAC, for 1857, bound in cloth, lettered, price 7s. 6d. (eighth year of publication), containing … ‘Natural History,’ intended for country residents, by John Macgillivray Esq., F. R. G. S., with receipts for preserving birds, reptiles, fishes, insects, radiate animals plants &c; also, articles on the Chemistry of the kitchen and the China sugar cane, together with a vast amount of other information of great service to the settler in the bush.34

Macgillivray effectively deserted his wife, leaving her behind with no access to his pay, and dependent on charity to get herself and her children back to Australia. Sadly, she died, just before reaching Sydney. In 1855, he was subjected to a court of inquiry regarding an article he wrote for a Sydney newspaper, criticising Captain Denham of HMS Herald for hazarding the boats and spending too long looking for Ben Boyd, a failed entrepreneur who had disappeared, perhaps because Boyd had faked his death, but more likely because he’d been killed on one of the New Hebrides islands (now Vanuatu). The result of the inquiry was that Macgillivray was dismissed.31

Macgillivray collected in the New Hebrides and Cape York, and appears to have been trading in unusual shells with dealers and collectors in Europe. In 1861, Sydney conchologist Dr James C. Cox hired Macgillivray to arrange his collection before he settled at Grafton in 1864, collecting natural history specimens as a business. Then, in 1866, Macgillivray returned to Sydney to help Cox with a monograph on Australian land shells. The text reveals that Macgillivray had collected many of the specimens. In 1867, Macgillivray died in Australia, probably of a heart attack. The book appeared the next year.

A single paragraph of Denham’s report on the cruise may have some bearing on the whole sorry affair. It describes how the ship had run low on, or even out of, grog!

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John Macgillivray (1821–1867) New Shells

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Curiosity Killed the Botanist

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Allan Cunningham (1791–1839) and Richard Cunningham (1793–c.1835)

Death in the North

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Ludwig Leichhardt (1813–c.1848) and John Gilbert (1812–1845)



Boomerang Screws and Big Wombats 94



The Case of the Large-bellied Fish

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A Victim of Fighting Men

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Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855)

William Blandowski (1822–1878)

Gerard Krefft (1830–1881)

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Makers

Own

of Their

Fates

Though some would see the work of a divine hand, the Romans believed that Faber est suae quisque fortunae—each man makes his own fortune. Cunningham and Leichhardt paid dearly for their choices—so, too, did Macgillivray, Mitchell and Blandowski, but in different ways. Richard Cunningham and Ludwig Leichhardt died because they were under-prepared and cavalier about Australian conditions. The careers of Sir Thomas Mitchell, William Blandowski and Gerard Krefft were destroyed because they were ill-prepared to deal with mean minds. In all five cases, though, there was an element of pride, even hubris, involved.

There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will. —Hamlet in Hamlet, act V, scene ii

Makers of Their Own Fates

Curiosity Killed the Botanist

Allan Cunningham (1791–1839) and Richard Cunningham (1793–c.1835) Although we heartily wish that Mr. C. may have survived, and may yet return to his friends, nevertheless, speaking candidly, and taking all the circumstances into consideration, we do not think, that even mentally or bodily, he was formed to exist under such toil as he must have gone through. —The Sydney Monitor, Wednesday, 23 September 18351

Allan Cunningham was a major explorer, both as a naturalist with Phillip Parker King and surveyor general John Oxley, and also in his own right. His brother Richard joined Major Thomas Mitchell’s 1835 expedition to chart the Darling River, during which he wandered off and died. Most accounts say Richard was killed by Aboriginal people. Allan, who had been in many encounters with them, accepted this conclusion, but speculated that stockmen in the area must have provoked the Aboriginal people, and in that period, this is quite possible.

Oxley, and he collected 450 specimens between April and September in 1817. After preparing the specimens to be sent to Kew, Allan left Sydney for an eight-month survey expedition with Phillip Parker King in the cutter Mermaid. He gathered some 300 species on this voyage, including a number of new ones—all destined to be carried off to England. Between the start of 1818 and mid-1822, Allan went on four major voyages with King, making shorter land-based trips between voyages. By 1822, King had finished the necessary coastal surveys, and was ready to chase promotion in Britain and glory on the coasts of South America. Allan, for his part, was probably ready to come ashore in 1822. He was now a competent and observant bushman who could combine botanical collection and the discovery of new routes. He succeeded in both these areas. When Barron Field edited and published his Geographical Memoirs in 1825,2 it included two chapters by Cunningham.3

The brothers were born in England to a Scottish father and an English mother. After school, Allan worked in a lawyer’s office, but by 1808 he was working as a clerk in the herbarium at Kew, where he met botanist Robert Brown. Once again, knowing or meeting the right people played a key role. In 1814, on the recommendation of Sir Joseph Banks, Allan set off to Rio de Janeiro as a botanical collector, before being ordered to New South Wales in 1816. Governor Macquarie quickly sent him off to the Lachlan River and the Lachlan marshes with

Allan travelled widely, visiting New Zealand and Norfolk Island, as well as finding his way to the Darling Downs and down to Moreton Bay. Approaching 40,

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Unknown artist Portrait of Allan Cunningham c.1835

Raphael Clint (1797–1849) Map of the South and Eastern Parts of Australia 1839 (detail)

‘All we know for sure is that Cunningham was never seen again.’

Unknown artist Form of Boat Procession to Convey the Remains of Rear Admiral King from North to South Shore on Saturday 1st March, 1856

he returned to Kew in 1831, and his travelling days appeared to be over. In 1832, he was elected a fellow of the Linnean Society, but the society’s council returned his membership fee (a hefty £36!) because of the services he had rendered to science.

Ten days after Mitchell’s expedition set off, near the headwaters of the Bogan River, Richard somehow wandered away from a large party of 21 men, with animals and carts, travelling in a predetermined path. There are several possibilities as to his fate: perhaps he was, as many asserted, killed by Aboriginal people. On the other hand, somebody who has lived all his life in the Northern Hemisphere expects the sun to travel clockwise across the sky. In the Southern Hemisphere, outside of the tropics, the sun and its shadows always go counter-clockwise, which could confuse any northerner without a compass. Perhaps, he had a compass made in England and unsuitable for use on southern continents. All we know for sure is that Cunningham was never seen again.

In December 1831, the post of colonial botanist was offered to Allan Cunningham, but he declined it, recommending his brother Richard instead. Richard arrived in Sydney on 6 January 1833, on the barque Mary. The ship was rated at 370 tons, and besides the crew, carried 168 prisoners, 30 soldiers, three of their wives and seven children. It would have been a crowded voyage and Richard must have been glad to see Port Jackson. He only survived 28 months. The surveyor general, Major Thomas Mitchell, had not taken a botanist before, and had invited the young man along on a survey trip at short notice. Richard was ill-prepared for the Australian bush. He had worked in Paris and collected in New Zealand, but as The Sydney Monitor reported later, he was reckless in the bush:

When Cunningham failed to return, some of the party searched for him, but they missed his tracks for three days. In the end, they found his dead horse, still with its saddle and bridle. Some Aboriginal people said they had seen him heading west with ‘myalls’, a term used for Aboriginal people who maintained their tribal state. His body was never found, but some human bones, scraps of clothing and a hat were.5

One of Mr. C’s first excursions was to Illawarra, where he strayed from the party; and was lost for a night. This being alluded to in the Colonial Journals, was a source of pride to Mr. C. who (as a young explorer) considered that it shewed his zeal in the cause in which he was embarked—not thinking then, that he was to end his days in a similar manner.4

Back in England, Allan was invited to fill his brother’s shoes. He agreed, arriving in February 1837. He hated the administrative load, however, and was insulted at being expected to arrange for vegetables for the governor and other officials.6 By the year’s end, he had resigned as superintendent of what he called ‘the Government Cabbage Garden’, and returned to collecting.

More to the point, the newspaper noted that Richard not only had too little time to prepare, but he had also ‘started on this important, and lengthy expedition, without a servant or attendant of his own’. In those days, ‘servant’ usually meant a convict. Most of these would be survivors with some bush experience who had worked out that the fast way to a ticket of leave was to look carefully after a gentleman.

He worked in New Zealand from April to October 1838, but returned to Sydney, seriously ill with tuberculosis. Even as his condition worsened, he continued collecting and made plans to cruise the

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Samuel Thomas Gill (1818–1880) Cunningham’s Monument, Botanic Gardens, Sydney 1856

north-west coast with Captain John Wickham in HMS Beagle, but he was too ill, and the ship sailed without him. He died in June 1839.

that in 1820 Cunningham would make the first European record of the frill-necked lizard, with its umbrella-like collar and habit of running on two legs: ‘I secured a lizard of extraordinary appearance, which had perched itself upon the stem of a small decayed tree’.8 Cunningham sent the specimen back to a fascinated Britain. He also discovered the skink that is named for him: Egernia cunninghamii, Cunningham’s skink.

Allan Cunningham was mainly a botanist, but he also had a keen eye for interesting animals: Our dogs killed several kangaroo-rats, among which I observed a species of pigmy kangaroo with the head of a hare, it has five toes to the forefeet as in Macropus elegans, it, however, stands only about 14–16 inches high when resting upon its hind legs and tail. The skin is dark gray, and the fur of a very fine texture.7

Allan and his brother Richard were clearly possessed of curious minds. Allan’s memorial lies in a pond near the tearooms in Sydney’s Royal Botanic Gardens, while Richard’s memorial, a plaque provided by Allan, is in Sydney’s Scots Church. Allan also gave his name to Cunningham’s Gap in Queensland, and their surname lives on in at least eight species of Australian plants.

Australia’s reptiles were slow to be described, not least because they were not regarded as great prizes. It took a while for nineteenth-century naturalists to move beyond the ancient view that snakes and lizards were lowly, unpleasant and uninteresting creatures. So it was

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Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Hibbertia cunninghamia, Agrostocrinum, W. Australia c.1906

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Makers of Their Own Fates

Death in the North

Ludwig Leichhardt (1813–c.1848) and John Gilbert (1812–1845) Leichhardt’s happy return has set all the muses on fire in every quarter. Amongst others a poet in Pyrmont has sent us a specimen of a very long unfinished poem, some thousands of quotations at least. —The Sydney Morning Herald, 1 April 1846 9

German explorer Ludwig Leichhardt was passable at collecting, but an accurate and diligent recorder. Some of the collectors working with him were a bit unlucky. One, teenager John Murphy, received a searing rash from a plant specimen, and another, John Gilbert, was speared by Aboriginal people. Leichhardt, however, paid the ultimate price. He survived his first expedition, though more by good luck than good management, was forced to abandon a second expedition, and disappeared on the third.

Leichhardt reached Australia in early 1842 and studied the land, giving a few lectures on geology and botany and looking for an opportunity. He certainly had the skills to live in the bush, making lone trips from Newcastle to Moreton Bay, but he was travelling in the steps of others—a far cry from what people understood to be ‘exploration’. He also found time to mix with the ‘right people’, evidenced by his listing as an attendee at the governor’s levée on the Queen’s Birthday (24 May) in 1842.10

Leichhardt had little training as an explorer. He dabbled in the sciences at the universities of Berlin and Göttingen between 1831 and 1836. He never graduated, but his dedication to science was apparent enough for most people to call him ‘Dr Leichhardt’. He lived mainly in Britain between 1837 and 1841, and went on excursions around England, France, Switzerland and Italy. In 1841, his friend William Nicholson (whom he had met as a student and who had supported him since 1837) funded his passage to Australia, paying for Leichhardt’s fare, clothes and necessities and also giving him £200.

In 1844, he heard of a proposal to send Sir Thomas Mitchell on an expedition from Sydney to the small settlement of Port Essington, not far from modern Darwin. It would be a costly and risky venture, so Governor Gipps wanted Colonial Office approval first. Leichhardt might have joined the official expedition, but this delay brought opportunity and he saw a chance to take the lead role, proposing a privately funded expedition that would increase scientific knowledge and establish a viable trade route for future commerce.11 On 13 August, the steamer Sovereign left Sydney for Moreton Bay, carrying among others ‘Dr. Leichhardt,

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Unknown artist Portrait of Ludwig Leichhardt c.1850

Harden Sidney Melville (engraver, active 1837–1881) Victoria Square, Port Essington

Unknown artist Leichhardt’s Expedition c.1881 (Moreton Bay to Port Essington) Left to right: James S. Calvert, John Murphy, and John Roper

Messrs. Roeper [sic], Calvert, Murphy, Phillips, and two aboriginals’.12 Others would join them (and in a few cases, leave) before the expedition reached unknown ground. It was an eclectic group that Leichhardt had assembled.

Gilbert had reached Hobart with the Goulds, but soon set off for other parts of Australia, and would effectively spend the rest of his life in Australia, collecting: SEPT. 18.—Arrived the barque Parsee, 548 tons, M’Kellar, master, from London 15th May, with a general cargo. Passengers–Mr. and Mrs. Gould, Mr. J. H. Gould, Mr. H. Coxen … and John Gilbert, James Benstead, and Mary Watson (servants).16

John Murphy was 15, but had met Leichhardt as a 12-year-old on the passage to Australia. During the expedition, the teenaged Murphy learned the hard way of the effects of some species of Grevillea after he stowed botanical specimens inside his shirt:13

The travellers were lucky, as the ship was wrecked while returning to Britain, with a total loss of the ship, and one death (considered to be due to ill health, rather than wreck associated).17 It could easily have been different, and Australia would have been poorer as a result.

Upon arriving at the camp, he felt great pain; and, on examining the place, he saw, to his greatest horror, that the whole of the skin of the epigastric region was coloured black, and raised into a great number of painful blisters. Upon his showing it to me, I thought that it was caused by the Sterculia prickles having irritated the skin, and rendered it more sensitive to the sharp properties of the exudation of the seed-vessels of Grevillea. Brown, however, merely touched the skin of his arm with the matter, when blisters immediately rose; showing clearly its properties. The discoloration of the skin was like the effects of nitrate of silver.14

Gilbert must have had some assistance, but from the scanty records, he seems to have worked largely on his own, or with Aboriginal informants. He quickly managed to find his way about in the bush, and also proved himself effective at gaining favours, such as a passage to Port Essington. By the time Leichhardt left London in October 1841, and long before he heard of the little British settlement on the Cobourg Peninsula, Gilbert had obtained a passage on the Gilmore, which had sailed to Port Essington after a cyclone that drove HMS Pelorus ashore and wrecked the settlement. The ship carried stores to re-stock the settlement, and naval supplies for the Pelorus.

Calvert (who later married naturalist and writer Louisa Atkinson) was also on the same ship, and Phillips was a convict who apparently begged Leichhardt to take him, in the hope that he might get a pardon if they succeeded. One of the late additions was John Gilbert, a professional collector of birds who was quite happy to gather any living thing that he thought his employer might value. In September 1839, Gilbert wrote from the Swan River settlement to his employer, John Gould:

Gilbert spent the next nine months catching birds of the area before scrounging another free ride, this time to Singapore on a repaired Pelorus. He then took a more orthodox passage to London, arriving around the end of September, just before Leichhardt left Britain in search of adventure and glory.

Since I last wrote to you I have increased my collection to 150 species and 530 specimens of birds, 13 species of quadrupeds, about 70 skeletons, 7 bottles of reptiles, etc., a few fish, 500 insects, 400 shells, a few crustacea, and 3 or 500 plants.15

In London, Gilbert met with John Gould, who had returned in 1840 and was pleased enough with Gilbert’s work to persuade him to return to Australia. Gilbert set out for Australia, two weeks before Leichhardt landed in

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in a letter from fellow expedition member John Roper to John Gould, telling him of the loss of his most valued collector: These rascals had crept on us under cover of the tea-trees: the tent in which Calvert and I were being first in their road, the whole body attacked us; poor Gilbert, hearing the noise, was rushing from his tent with his gun, when a spear thrown at him pierced his breast, and penetrating to his lungs, caused internal haemorrhage; the only words he spoke were these, ‘Charlie, take my gun, they have killed me,’ when pulling the spear out with his own hands, he immediately dropped upon the ground lifeless. Little Murphy, who was by his side at the time he was speared, fired at the blackfellow who speared him; Brown fired at the mob beating Calvert and myself, and they immediately retreated, howling and lamenting. Mr Calvert was pierced with five spears, myself with six, and our recovery is to be attributed to the abstemious way in which we lived. After having the spears pulled out, you may imagine our feelings when we heard Charlie exclaim ‘Gilbert is dead!’— we could not, would not, believe it.18

Unknown artist (JM) Leichardt from a Portrait Taken by One of the Explorists from Moreton Bay to Swan River c.1846

Sydney, and from 1842 to 1844, worked in Western Australia, Van Diemen’s Land, New South Wales, and up into the Darling Downs, where he first ran into, and then joined, Leichhardt’s expedition.

Leichhardt had survived the long haul from southern Queensland to the Top End, but, like most explorers, he wanted more glory, and so he set out again. He planned to cross from Queensland’s Darling Downs to the west coast before turning south to reach the Swan River. It was a hopeful but ultimately deadly plan, and the first attempt failed, mainly because they were ill-equipped and had little idea of what they were heading into. To be fair, it was only in the 1850s that explorers would know enough to prepare thoroughly to venture out into the unknown. Leichhardt and his party started out again in March 1848, only slightly better prepared. During this expedition, the entire party disappeared, almost without trace.

It was, after all, a way to access the unknown territory that ended in the fine collecting ground of Port Essington. The party of nine left the Downs in October 1844. One man left the expedition early and seven exhausted men arrived at Port Essington. Gilbert was not among them. On 28 June 1845, Leichhardt’s party camped for the night on the east side of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Gilbert shot and skinned two birds, which were presented for the evening meal, before retiring to his tent with Murphy. Not long after, the camp was attacked by a group of Aboriginal people, during which Gilbert was fatally wounded. Details of the incident were relayed

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Part of a gun, alleged to be Leichhardt’s, was discovered by an Aboriginal man around 1900 near the Western Australian and Northern Territory border, and was more recently recognised as perhaps marking Leichhardt’s most distant point. There remains, however, the puzzle of the pack-frames of the bullocks. These were made of iron and should still be out in the desert somewhere, given that Darrell Lewis has made a logical and convincing case, based on the evidence, for Leichhardt having reached an area near where the Tanami Desert meets the Great Sandy Desert.19 Later explorer Ernest Giles thought a flash flood, coming down from the north, might have trapped and drowned the party and then buried them, but we will probably never know.

some interesting specimens, but that they were not to be kept in Paris: I wish very much to establish a good well-named herbarium in the Museum in Sydney so that we have some means of ready comparison. Unique specimens you should of course send back.20

There were other Germans well trained in science who wanted to create an Australian science, to raise Australian naturalists above the level of mere collectors for the greedy spiders at the various European centres. Perhaps they were less blinded by the dazzling glory of the British Empire or, coming from a nation still being formed, they were aware that tinsel also glitters. However you look at it, Australia benefited from its borrowed Germans.

If he had lived, Leichhardt may have proved to be a true champion of Australian science. In a letter to Gaetano Durando in Paris, the German-born Leichhardt made it clear that he would send Durando

Although there was nothing Germanic about Sir Thomas Mitchell, he also proved to be good value, overall.

Unknown artist Memorial to John Gilbert at Drakes Ford, W.A. c.1960

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Makers of Their Own Fates

Boomerang Screws and Big Wombats Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855)

To myself and fellow-traveller, the observation of, ‘We shall soon pass over some of Major Mitchell’s line of road,’ was a certainty, as far as it might be completed, that it would be good, and the result always verified the correctness of the opinion we formed on this subject. —George Bennett, 1834 21

Sir Thomas Mitchell is credited with the invention of the canvas waterbag, still seen hanging from the roo bars of outback utes: ‘His, it must be confessed, was a very crude one, being only a thick flour bag, covered outside with melted mutton fat’.22

propeller or screw to be used in driving steamships, based on the form of a very old Australian invention, the boomerang:23 English papers say that Sir Thomas Mitchell has made successful experiments on a method of propelling through water by the screw,—which avoids the lateral resistance offered to all existing applications of the instrument; and has left behind instructions for a patent—which is now complete. Sir Thomas expects great things from this construction—no less, we understand, than a performance of 500 miles a day for large steamers. This no doubt is doubtful.24

The invention probably happened around September 1846. By that time, Mitchell already had several more substantial achievements under his belt. In 1828, he became surveyor general of New South Wales. In the years that followed, he was awarded a knighthood and was elected, for a brief period, to the New South Wales Legislative Council. He was widely acclaimed as an explorer and, like many others, corresponded with Charles Darwin (sending him rocks). He was also a seasoned military campaigner in the Peninsular War (1808–1814), and his Portuguese was good enough for him to translate The Lusiad of Luis de Camoens into English.

The Admiralty was unimpressed, though Mitchell later complained that their marine engineers had seen enough, and were using his design without giving him credit. The design certainly worked: The Lady Eglington arrived at Quebec last week, in 13 days from Liverpool, and reached Montreal the l4th day. This steamer has recently been fitted up with the new propeller, known as the Boomerang, from its resemblance to the Australian weapon so called. It is the invention of Sir Thomas Mitchell, and was patented in the United States a few weeks ago.25

In the 1840s, Mitchell attracted notice in the Sydney press, The Times in London, and in Scientific American in New York for another invention, his most ingenious (and possibly only patented) invention. This was a

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William Thomas Cooper (b.1934) Major Mitchell’s Cockatoo (Cacatua leadbeateri leadbeateri); Citron-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea citrinocristata); Lesser Sulphur-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea sulphurea) 1970

In 1829, he took responsibility for roads and bridges. As George Bennett mentioned in the chapter’s opening quote, the colonists liked his new roads to Liverpool and Parramatta. They applauded his new descent to the west of the Blue Mountains and they cheered his planned road to Berrima and Goulburn. Governors liked him less, because Mitchell often got his way by pulling strings behind their backs. Governor Sir Ralph Darling, not the brightest or most popular governor, tried to take roads and bridges away from Mitchell, who appealed directly to his old patron, Sir George Murray, then secretary of state for the colonies. Patronage and protection, however, don’t outlast the patron, and Murray was about to retire. When Darling demanded that Mitchell be sacked for insubordination, the major was only saved because the new colonial secretary had decided to recall the governor.

R.B. Bate (manufacturer) Surveying Instruments Used by Sir Thomas Mitchell during His Three Expeditions 1831–1846 c.1830

This may have been a goalless draw, but Mitchell treated it as a win, and parlayed it into a triumph by persuading the acting governor to let him go looking for a fabled river running north-west. At this time, the concealed mouth of the Murray River had escaped notice, and logical thinkers concluded that giant catchments had to provide a mighty stream— or an inland sea.

Mitchell was a latter-day Renaissance man who could still flourish in the first half of the nineteenth century—a gentleman dabbler who might have been judged a genius if he had stayed on a single path. Regardless, he still deserves our praise for the scientific work that went on during his trips of exploration. Mitchell reached Australia in 1827 as assistant surveyor general of New South Wales. His appointment included the right to succeed John Oxley, which was handy, because Oxley died in 1828. Mitchell jumped in and began setting things straight. In addition to finding a lack of surveying instruments, he also discovered that some of the surveyors were incompetent. Worse, there was no general survey of the colony to make a framework on which to hang the more local surveys. Title deeds were always issued slowly, mainly because of the surveying delays.

Off went the major and his regimented party in 1831, in pursuit of glory. He found a few minor rivers, but no inland sea and no glory. He returned instead to a sea of problems. Free settlers were flooding in and basic surveys were needed so farms could be taken up, money earned and taxes paid, but this was not as interesting as exploring. Mitchell got out of trouble by producing a map that seemed to show progress, and by stressing the need for a

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J. Macfarlane (active 1890–1898) Meeting of Major Mitchell and Edward Henty, Portland Bay, 1836

general survey. He then set off to trace the River Darling (and win glory). This was the trip on which Richard Cunningham died—a bit of a dampener for a glory hunter. An affray on the Darling in which several Aboriginal people were wounded or killed was no help either.

Mitchell moved along the Murray to where it meets the Loddon, and then he headed south through an area he dubbed Australia Felix—modern Victoria. He reached Portland, where he chanced upon the Henty brothers, unauthorised settlers who were whaling at Portland Bay. Mitchell had found his ticket to glory, because he had crossed large tracts of good land. He had surveyed as he went, and to a high degree of accuracy.

Undaunted, he set out again in 1836, along the Lachlan to the Murrumbidgee and the Murray. There, the party ran into Aboriginal people whom Mitchell identified as the same ones he had fought in the previous year. The opposing force were ‘dispersed’ (a common euphemism for ‘shot at’ in that era) three days later, near Mount Dispersion. An Aboriginal person in Mitchell’s party said later that seven of the warriors were killed, while the rest fled.

Back in Sydney, Mitchell had to face an inquiry over the Aboriginal deaths, but while the Executive Council thought Mitchell might have made more of an effort to be conciliatory, that was as far as they went. He then took extended leave in England, to write and publish, and also to badger the Colonial Office into finding him a knighthood. He succeeded, and news of the honour

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Raphael Clint (1797–1849) Map of the South and Eastern Parts of Australia 1839

William Romaine Govett (1807–1848) Major Mitchell Sketching the Entrance of the Caves in Wellington Valley, New South Wales 1843

reached the colonies in September 1839, but the new knight himself did not arrive on the Mary Bannatyne until February 1841.26

Commission was launched to review his work. He never saw the commission’s findings. Mitchell died in October and the Royal Commission’s report came later. It was scathing about his performance.

The colony was slipping into drought and depression. Sheep were slaughtered and ‘boiled down’ for the price of their tallow (sheep fat). Now, he saw how profits and taxes were needed: to fund his empire. The 1842 budget of the Survey Department was £26,000, but in 1844, it was £12,000. Some staff were transferred, others had their salaries cut, but gained ‘right of private practice’— official permission to moonlight. As a result, government work was neglected if private tasks were available.

Things might have been different if Mitchell had pursued just one path to glory. In 1830, a magistrate called George Ranken found fossil bones in the Wellington Caves.27 The Devonian limestone caves had long trapped wildlife, and many more recent but still extinct species had perished there, leaving their bones behind. Late in 1830, Ranken took Mitchell to the caves. They did not discover the fossil deposits, but Mitchell and Ranken were the first to bring bones out.

Unabashed, Mitchell took off, seeking a river he believed ran north-west to Port Essington, near modern Darwin. Once again, he found no large river, but in 1847 he took more leave to prepare the journal of the expedition. He returned to Sydney in 1848, but his power had eroded. Mitchell lacked his old support base and, in July 1855, a Royal

A survey of the material extracted in the past 180 years lists a total of 58 marsupial species, 30 of them now extinct and another 12 no longer found near the Wellington Valley.28 Bats, rodents, monotremes, birds and reptiles are also included on the list.

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The finds led in a number of directions. Richard Owen first examined marsupial fossils from Wellington in 1838, and was still publishing about them in 1888. He collected Australian fossils from other places as well, but in 1867, Owen asked the colonial secretary to provide the sum of £200 for collecting fossils that were to be sent to him in London. Gerard Krefft, zoologist and curator of the Australian Museum and an enthusiastic Darwinian, did the work, but sent casts, photos and ‘duplicates’ to Owen. Given that Owen was an implacable antiDarwinian, one could speculate that this may have had something to do with Krefft’s later troubles with the largely anti-Darwinian Australian Museum Trust. Darwin’s own travel time ran out more than 200 miles (300 kilometres) from the caves. Even so, biologists think now that news of the discoveries there probably inspired Darwin’s ‘Law of Succession of Types’, which he set down in 1837.

Neil Murray Wide and Level Mitchell Grass Plain Spreads Away from the Rugged MacDonnell Ranges on Hamilton Downs Station, Rich Cattle Country, Some 50 Miles West of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory 1954

The remains included a giant kangaroo, and what was originally identified as an elephant, though Richard Owen recognised it as a sort of giant wombat which he called Diprotodon. There was much more to be found there, which leads one to wonder: if Mitchell had been less inclined to pursue fame as an explorer, would he be more famous today? ‘Probably not’ is the answer, because even those who know nothing of fossils or Sir Thomas Livingstone Mitchell— surveyor general, explorer, naturalist, linguist and inventor—still know of the Mitchell Highway, Mitchell grass, or the Major Mitchell cockatoo. Like Mitchell, German naturalist William Blandowski was an inventor. And, like Mitchell, Blandowski was disinclined to yield to authority, in his case the Scientific Establishment.

Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Cockatoo from the Interior of Australia c.1835

Makers of Their Own Fates

The Case of the Large-bellied Fish William Blandowski (1822–1878)

Dr. Eades seems to think that in this description Mr. Blandowski had some kind of arrière pensée to peculiarities in the conformation of the Doctor’s frontal and abdominal regions, and the Rev. Mr. Bleasdale thinks the same about the tittlebat Bleasdaliensis, or whatever the fish may be to which the reverend gentleman’s name has been attached. —The Argus, Saturday, 27 March 1858 29

William Blandowski grew up before scientists had to specialise. He was as much a geologist as a biologist, but early geologists had to be versatile. Born into an aristocratic Prussian family in Silesia (modern Poland but then annexed to Germany), he was briefly a military cadet before leaving (nobody knows quite how or why) at the ripe age of 14. After that, he must have gathered an education, but called himself a mining engineer.

Forest Creek, 11th November 1852 … at a little distance further on I saw a still more spirited undertaking by a party of Germans, also from Adelaide, under the direction of Mr. W. Blandowski, a Silesian mining engineer, from Cracow. This gentleman has, I understand, made considerable progress in a scientific survey of South Australia … Mr. Blandowski was deputed some time ago by his party to proceed to Melbourne, and if necessary to Sydney, to procure machinery to drain a portion of Spring Flat, where they had secured claims of such ascertained value as to warrant the expenditure of £1,000 in working them. He has just returned from Melbourne with pumping apparatus, the castings of which alone cost £600 and the cartage £100. It is to be worked by horse power; will be in operation in a few days, and is expected to throw up 10,000 gallons of water per hour.31

He reached Australia in 1849 to study Australia’s botany and geology, and visited Cape York, Sydney, Twofold Bay and Adelaide. One of the problems in locating Blandowski then, and in hunting him down in the records today, is the amount of variation in his surname (Blandowski, Blandowskie or Blandowsky) and forename (William, Wilhelm or W.), and whether or not the aristocratic ‘von’ was included.

Blandowski was busy on many projects. In May 1853, he asked for an allowance from Lieutenant-Governor Charles La Trobe so he could finish his Illustrated Natural History of the Colony of Victoria. It is interesting to note the timing of other events that year. In August, Blandowski posted the following defence of La Trobe,

The Victorian goldfields drew him, and in October 1852, he was a founding member of the Geological Society of Victoria.30 The next month, he was in the press again, having invented a water pump:

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William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Blandowski’s Camp’

William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Fishes: Living in the River Murray …’

William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Fishes: Living in the River Murray …’

In October, The Sydney Morning Herald praised the Museum of Natural History (calling it Melbourne’s ‘Great Exhibition’) and the work of ‘Dr. Mueller, the Government botanist, and Mr. Blandowsky, curator of the Museum’.33 Both Germans were considered the flowers of Australian science, but hard times lay ahead. In 1855, Victoria was tightening its belt, and the Museum of Natural History and the Museum of Economic Geology had their entire budgets cut, while the Melbourne Botanic Gardens’ funds were halved.34 With a stroke of a bean counter’s pen, Mueller and Blandowski were out of work.

who was accused of saying unkind words about Germans: Countrymen,—I consider it my duty to inform you, that during an interview which I had yesterday with His Excellency the Governor, he totally denied having made use of any expression derogatory to the German community; and that he regrets we should have credited the untrue report, which found its way into the Argus paper of the 5th inst WILLIAM V. BLANDOWSKIE. Melbourne, 13th August, 1853.32

In early November, La Trobe instructed the colonial secretary to establish a museum in Melbourne. He added that Blandowski was the best choice to run it. Blandowski took up his position as government zoologist with the Museum of Natural History in April 1854, but the skill with which he won favour in 1853 did not last.

By April, the Museum of Natural History had moved to the upper floor of the old assay offices, where The Argus referred to Blandowski as ‘the presiding genius of the place’.35 He survived, and in May 1856, he was on

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the provisional committee of the proposed Victoria Club, which was intended to be a meeting place for the leaders of Melbourne (who were, of course, all men in those days).36 Clearly, Melbourne ‘society’ saw him as one of their own.

Something must have snapped in Blandowski about then, because he was now prepared to lash out, even at Krefft, who could be arrogant at times (admittedly, with some justification). Signs of this are evident in a brief court report in The Argus in March 1858, concerning the small debts jurisdiction and reported as ‘Krift vs Blandowski’.38 The case involved Krefft trying to obtain his pay. It is possible, however, that Krefft caused the problem by criticising Blandowski’s competence and techniques. Blandowski lost to Krefft, and this may have been the final straw. There had been ominous signs for six months, starting when he reached Melbourne and did not return to his museum duties, so something was amiss, even back then.

Another club member was Professor McCoy of the new Melbourne University, a shrewd operator, to put it politely. Others might, with justice, call him treacherous. Blandowski made collecting trips from late 1854, but with McCoy in town, he was unwise to turn his back for even a moment. Sadly, he did. As palaeontologist to the Geological Survey of Victoria, McCoy ordered the transfer of the collections of the National Museum to the University of Melbourne.

On 2 September 1857, Blandowski presented a preliminary report to the Philosophical Society. This included accounts of 19 fish named after prominent council members. Instead of being honoured, the members were outraged. The council approved publication, but banned certain ‘objectionable’ pages where barbed descriptions of the fish appeared.

The good people of Melbourne were furious. There was a public meeting, and among those disagreeing with the move was prominent physician Dr Richard Eades, who seconded a motion to form a deputation to have the collections held in central Melbourne. The key argument was about where displays would be best seen, and less about the theft of Blandowski’s work, but his interests were still served by those who wanted a central location. An opinion piece in The Argus the following Tuesday stated:

No copies survived the purge that followed, but tradition has it that one fish was depicted as, ‘Slimy, slippery fish. Lives in mud’. The fish named for Eades was described as ‘easily recognised by its low forehead, big belly and sharp spine’. Blandowski refused to withdraw the descriptions, and a motion to force his resignation only narrowly failed to obtain a two-thirds majority.

We would as soon think of recommending the establishment of the National Museum at the other side of the Saltwater River, or in the middle of Batman’s Swamp, as at the University.37

The objections did nothing, and the transfer went ahead. Perhaps as a consolation prize, Blandowski received funding for a collecting expedition around the junction of the Murray and Darling rivers. Another German naturalist, Gerard Krefft, accompanied him. It was a long trip, and if Krefft is to be believed, his efforts alone got them safely to Adelaide in August 1857, with 28 boxes, packed with 17,400 specimens.

The knives were out, but his enemies bided their time. Blandowski failed repeatedly to hand over specimens and manuscripts. In late March 1858, he was accused of trying to retain these for personal use. On 24 March, a general meeting of the Philosophical Society convened to consider the resignations of two councillors because of ‘a repugnance to meet Mr. Blandowski, as they alleged that that gentleman had 105

William Blandowski (artist, 1822–1878), J. Redaway & Sons (engravers) Aborigines of Australia, Corrobori or Native Festival c.1855

made use of the transactions of the society to disseminate caricatures of its members’.39

Australian naturalist with an encyclopedia, but the exercise almost bankrupted him. After that he worked as a studio photographer. Sadly, at the end of 1878 he died in an asylum, a broken and almost forgotten man. His legacy can be traced to a genus of marine fish called Blandowskius, and a genus of Murray River perch called Blandowskiella. Aside from that, his name is forgotten in Australia.

This was a scandal, indeed, and Blandowski erupted, claiming to have been slandered. Others who had defended Blandowski’s museum against the predatory McCoy now turned on him. Eades moved that a committee of inquiry be balloted for. As he had not resigned, he was able to participate in the discussions. The vote to hold a ballot was carried by 11 votes to ten.

His cleverness (though not his name) was recalled later when the Queensland lungfish, Ceratodus forsteri, was being discussed. That fish was named, without malice, by his former companion and fellow German Gerard Krefft, who also deserves to be well remembered.

Eades’ motion may have been motivated by a desire to calm things down, but that mattered little, because Blandowski could enter no defence. He had pricked Victorians’ pomposity, and even The Argus criticised him, though conceding that even if the offence could be proven and shown to be malicious, it hardly merited ‘the capital punishment of expulsion from the Philosophical Institute’.40 There were, said the newspaper’s editorial, few enough men of science.

William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Mondellimin: Near the Junction of the Darling and Murray Rivers’

The committee returned a mild report, which largely absolved Blandowski of any offensiveness.41 That said, they expressed the opinion that, ‘Blandowski had no right, without having previously sought permission, to have named certain fishes after certain individuals, and from this oversight they believed the present unfortunate difference to have arisen’.42 Fury erupted, with the motion to receive the report being defeated by a large majority. The peacemakers were outnumbered. Given the comments on the night from people who may or may not have had an axe to grind, it appears that the genteel committee had quietly and carefully ignored evidence that Blandowski had earlier done something similar. Perhaps to avoid legal action, Blandowski left Australia in March 1859, and returned to Silesia, where he tried to make his reputation as an

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Makers of Their Own Fates

A Victim of Fighting Men Gerard Krefft (1830–1881)

Nor ought it to be otherwise than a matter of some congratulation that, considering how many things in Australia are first notified in Europe, so interesting a discovery should have been submitted to first examination in our own colonial museum, several of whose trustees saw and recognised its genus, and by the Curator of which institution it was first described. Dr. Günther, in his more elaborated description, does full justice to the brief notice of the Ceratodus and the correctness of the alliance to Lepidosiren, pointed out in that notice by Mr. Krefft, who by good management obtained it for the Museum. —Rev. W.B. Clarke, 1875 43

Unlike Blandowski, Gerard Krefft remained in Australia and died here, but towards the end of his life, he must have wished he had returned to his native Germany. Luckily for us, he did a great deal of excellent work before the political hyenas turned upon him. He is worthy of note under five headings: fossil marsupials, snakes, the Ceratodus, his support of Darwinism and his dismissal.

colony’s governor, who appointed him assistant curator at the Australian Museum, much to the annoyance of the museum trustees, who would have preferred someone with a formal degree. In 1864, the previous curator died and Krefft was given the post. This suggests that Krefft must have been good value, because acute scientific minds among the trustees such as George Bennett and William Sharp Macleay would soon have spotted a fraud.

The son of a confectioner, Krefft worked briefly for a merchant before travelling to America in 1850. By late 1852, he was on the Victorian goldfields, where he stayed for five years before going to the Murray River with William Blandowski to collect specimens. Later, he was employed by the National Museum in Melbourne to catalogue the collections. Melbourne and Sydney were already fierce rivals, and each colony delighted in creating institutions with ‘national’ or ‘Australian’ in the name.

Krefft may not have been a fraud, but he was less than entirely a gentleman. Consider this letter he wrote to The Argus in July 1858, published in October: I will content myself with correcting a few errors, which have created a great deal of merriment at the last meeting of the Zoological Society, to which I had the honor of being introduced through the kindness of Dr. Grey, of the British Museum.44

He then went on to outline a series of Blandowskian errors concerning sponges and the diet of bilbies. He finished with what would have been a devastating blow to Blandowski, but may well have improved his

After a return trip to Germany in 1858, Krefft reached Sydney with a letter of introduction to the

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Unknown artist Portrait of Gerard Krefft c.1870

Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Geological Sketch of Wellington Valley 1838

own chances of future advancement:

extraction difficult. The men cleared a passage through to another vault, where many fossils lay in fine red dust. This had to be sieved, raising such clouds of dust that the candles often went out.

P.S.—The director of museums, Professor M’Coy, will furnish additional proofs to my statements, if those which I have given in this letter should not be found strong enough.45

By Thursday, they had suffered and collected enough. Steady rain was falling, so instead of visiting similar deposits near Molong, they fled along deteriorating roads until the cart was bogged, 16 kilometres from Orange. Krefft left his colleagues to struggle back and boarded a passing mail coach.

In November 1866, Krefft left Sydney with two horses, a cart, a driver and two men, to explore the fossil deposits at the Wellington caves.46 They were seven days on the road, from Monday to Sunday, and entered the caves on the following Monday. The bottom of the cave held many fossil fragments, as well as the more recent bones of animals that had fallen in and starved to death. The bones were more brittle than the rock, making

Back in Sydney, he set to work. By mid-December, he reported that he had identified among the cave deposits,

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thylacines, Tasmanian devils, bandicoots, kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, assorted placentals and two of the megafauna, Diprotodon and Thylacoleo. Fossils, however, were a sideline: snakes and snakebite were Krefft’s real fascination. Writing in 1868, Krefft drew on firsthand knowledge, obtained over eight years, and from his own experience of the effects of being bitten by a broad-headed snake (Hoplocephalus variegatus): The bite resembles the sting of a wasp or bee, and if no remedy is used the puncture becomes soon inflamed, and the immediate parts, finger or hand, gradually begin to swell, such swelling extending, according to the strength of the poison, up to the shoulder. In about half an hour a most violent headache sets in, the veins on the temple throbbing as if going to burst, gradually the spine becomes affected, and the injured limb (if bitten in the arm for instance) grows quite stiff; the skin around the puncture has turned quite blue by this, and the usual drowsiness makes its appearance.47

He also refers to being bitten by a death adder, and was probably speaking from experience when he wrote in 1862:

Augustus Earle (1793–1838) Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, N.S. Wales, No. 5 c.1826

The most essential thing after a person has been bitten by a venomous snake is not to despair, and not to consider himself doomed. Underbind the wounded part immediately, make a slight incision, and suck it. Keep in motion … Many people have faith in Holloway’s pills and ointment, others believe in Underwood’s antidote (whatever that may be); but since that poor man died a martyr to it, the antidote has lost its charm. Brandy taken inwardly is in high favour with some; no doubt it keeps the spirits up, and in fact gin, rum, or whisky will have the same effect, but it will often be difficult to decide whether a person has really been bitten by a snake, or merely tries to get drunk under false pretences.48 Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Section and Groundplot of Two Caverns at Wellington Valley 1838

Augustus Earle (1793–1838) Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, New South Wales, No. 1 c.1826

Helena Forde (1832–1910) Death Adder: Acanthophis antarctica

Here is Krefft, the tough-minded scientist, at his best:

Agassiz, Owen, Quenstedt, and other Palaeontologists, have classed these supposed fish remains with the Cestraciontidæ, to which our ‘Port Jackson shark’ belongs …

On various occasions I have put quacks and their physic to the test, but they invariably declined the attempt to save the life of a creature with their antidote after the fangs had been well applied, whilst with my simple means several of the animals experimented upon were cured. Should any person still insist to possess such a thing as an antidote, I shall be most happy to try it, have it analysed if found of use, and the result published.49

It is in Australia in particular where zoological questions of great importance will yet be solved, and when, not long ago, Professor Huxley published his ingenious paper ‘on the most Bird-like Reptiles, and the most Reptile-like Birds of Former Ages,’ I pointed out to him that we did possess a lizard which would squat on its hind legs, and even hop in a manner not unlike a bird [the frill-necked lizard]. I trust that this fact may give a clue to the true position of some fossil species in the system.51

Krefft was something of a celebrity, and when Prince Alfred, then Duke of Edinburgh, visited Sydney, Krefft, George Bennett, future Premier Henry Parkes and other gentlemen entertained the royal party at the museum. Krefft’s performance involved demonstrating the snake-fighting abilities of the mongoose—using live animals: ‘In a few seconds the mongoose observed the snake and at once attacked it. The reptile appeared perfectly powerless, and in a few seconds lay dead on the floor’.50

In 1838, Agassiz had named the fossil ‘shark teeth’ Ceratodus—meaning horned tooth. Recognising that

Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Cave near Wellington c.1830

One of Krefft’s other claims to fame was recognising the Queensland lungfish for what it was, and getting the better of one of Darwin’s more formidable opponents, natural scientist Louis Agassiz. The announcement of the discovery of the lungfish did not appear in a learned British journal under the name of an eminent European scientist, but rather in The Sydney Morning Herald under Krefft’s authorship. Krefft was not only claiming the lungfish, he was also staking a claim for Australian scientific independence: SIR,—One of the most important discoveries in Natural History has lately been made by the Minister for Lands, the Hon. William Forster, M.L.A., in the shape of an amphibious creature inhabiting northern streams and lagoons, the teeth or dental plates of which resemble some fossil fish-teeth of the Liassic Period.

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his lungfish had similar teeth, and was not a shark, but rather a living example of an ancient group, Krefft gave it the same name, though today it is known as Neoceratodus, the new Ceratodus. The full scientific description was completed in 1871 by Albert Günther, a German friend of Krefft’s at the British Museum. Lungfish had been hailed as the missing link between fish and land animals, so Günther tackled the question of whether or not a lungfish can walk. Günther decided that the fins could not sustain the fish’s weight on land but allowed it to walk in water—arguably the first evolutionary step towards walking on land.

The trap was sprung at a special meeting of the trust in June 1874. Krefft refused to offer a defence until shown the charges and evidence. Ignoring this, the trustees found Krefft unfit to be curator and dismissed him. He claimed they had no power to dismiss him and barricaded himself inside the museum. After a stand-off, Edward Smith Hill called in the ‘fighting men’ (Krefft’s term—they were apparently old boxers), and Krefft was bodily ejected in September 1874, with some of his property impounded. When the courts awarded Krefft damages, the trustees refused to pay up, though they plundered the museum’s coffers to recoup their own legal costs.

In 1874, Krefft was dismissed by scheming trustees of the Australian Museum. He saw the sacking as a plot by opponents of Darwin, whom he supported, but George Bennett, who also opposed Darwinism, resigned from the trust in protest at the way Krefft was treated. There is some evidence that the trustees in question may have been building up their private collections at the expense of the museum’s own, but no evidence for a conspiracy.

When parliament voted £1000 to Krefft for arrears of salary, the Robertson government refused to pay unless Krefft renounced all other claims. He declined, sued the trustees for his medals and property, and was awarded £925. They offered to return his belongings with only £200. All things considered, the trust appears to have acted unconscionably and illegally, though possibly under provocation.

The museum trustees—William Macleay, James Cox, Captain Arthur Onslow, Alexander Scott and Edward Smith Hill—were all influential men. They accused Krefft of 12 offences, including drunkenness, disobeying the trustees’ orders, and stealing several specimens of gold. When Krefft appealed to Premier Henry Parkes, he was told:

Krefft was now a broken man who could find no further employment. He was bankrupted in 1880 and he died in 1881. Eight years later, on its twentieth anniversary, the journal Nature listed the Ceratodus as a key discovery of recent times: To particularize some of the more striking zoölogical discoveries which come within our twenty years, we may cite the dipnoous fish-like creature Ceratodus of the Queensland rivers, discovered by Krefft.53

You have been much to blame for indiscretion & in some cases disobedience … I have great respect for your undoubted ability & am truly sorry that you should be involved in such a disagreeable difficulty. I trust and believe you will be able to dispose of the charges preferred against you which as explained to me are in many respects frivolous. But you must learn to keep a cool temper & a respectful bearing even to gentlemen who may be opposed to you.52

Not least, Krefft deserves our appreciation for fighting for Australian science to be carried out in Australia. Soon, others were in agreement.

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Unknown artist The Prince Alfred Ray, Ceratoptera alfredi, Gerard Krefft c.1860

Albert Carl Ludwig Gotthilf Günther (1830–1914) A Ganoid Fish from Queensland (Ceratodus) c.1872



The Excellent Baron

Ferdinand von Mueller (1825–1896)

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Marketing Australian Nature

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Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895)

Sisters with Honorary Status Among the Chaps

Harriet Scott (1830–1907) and Helena Scott (1832–1910)

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A Voice from the Bush

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A Mere Flower Painter

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Bagging the Bunyip

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Louisa Atkinson (1834–1872)

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922)

William Sharp Macleay (1792–1865)

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‘temper, democratic; bias, offensively Australian’ —Joseph Furphy, 18971

Gerard Krefft’s disapproval of Richard Owen’s rapacious attempts to grasp every specimen for London set a pattern that would slowly take over as people came to Australia, not as visiting naturalists, but as naturalists settling permanently. In time, some of the emerging naturalists were even Australian-born, and the rest behaved as though they were. Australian natural history was coming of age, though it was a slow process. Ferdinand von Mueller and William Macleay wanted to establish an Australian-based scientific community, which the Scott sisters joined as scientific illustrators. Denied access to scientific routes, Louisa Anne Meredith, Louisa Atkinson and Ellis Rowan helped increase understanding of Australian nature through their popular writings and paintings.

True-Blue Naturalists

The Excellent Baron Ferdinand von Mueller (1825–1896)

Baron von Mueller was one of the oldest public servants of the colony, and his contributions to the scientific knowledge of Australian botany were unrivalled. Indeed, as a botanist his reputation was world wide. —The Argus, 10 October 1896 2

Two Germans dominated Australian science in the 1860s. One was a forward thinker who corresponded with Darwin, the other stopped writing to the Englishman after his theory was published, and repeatedly attacked the Darwinian idea. Mueller, the opponent of Darwin, left a huge body of work and died with full honours. Krefft, the supporter of Darwin, left some good work, but died a pauper with no honours.

Trobe appointed him to the post of government botanist in 1853. There followed a flurry of travels, all over southwestern New South Wales and Victoria: Mount Buffalo, the Ovens River, Wilson’s Promontory, the Grampians, the Darling–Murray junction, Albury, Mount Bogong and Mount Kosciuszko, which he climbed on New Year’s Day, 1855. He had become an excellent expeditioner, and just in time, because in February 1855, he still held a post but there was no money to pay him.3

Mueller was truly a giant of Australian botany and exploration. He was also a brilliant organiser and facilitator. After the early death of his parents from tuberculosis, 14-year-old Mueller was apprenticed to a Schleswig-Holstein pharmacist. It was during this time he caught the botanical bug. Aged 22, he gained a PhD in pharmacy, writing a thesis in botany. Then he cast around for a warmer climate for his two surviving sisters and himself, a refuge from the scourge of consumption.

Mueller had massively increased the scientific knowledge of Victoria’s flora, with a strong Banksian bias to finding useful species. He had also sent off duplicates to Kew, so he was of more than parochial importance. On the side, he had set up the 1854 Melbourne Exhibition and been active in both the Victorian Institute for the Advancement of Science and the Philosophical Society of Victoria. Now, these contacts paid off. With no budget, he took unpaid leave and joined the North Australian Expedition (NAE), one of Australia’s best-organised and most successful exploration trips.

They reached Adelaide in December 1847, and Mueller took work first as a pharmacist, before moving to the Victorian goldfields. By 1852, he was in Melbourne, where Lieutenant-Governor Charles La

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Charles Troedel & Co (lithographers) Baron Ferd. von Mueller c.1879

Thomas Baines (1820–1875) The North Australian Expedition Crossing the Wickham River, a Tributary of the Victoria River c.1856

The NAE was perhaps a victim of its own success. It brimmed with competence. Where the Burke and Wills expedition, just a few years later, brimmed with unjustified confidence and was a famous and howling disaster, the NAE was a resounding success—yet few noticed it.

F. Mueller; collector and preserver, J. Flood … The livestock comprised fifty horses and 200 sheep.4

The expedition left Sydney in July 1855, called at Moreton Bay, then sailed north to land at the Victoria River. They followed the river up, penetrated the Great Sandy Desert, and then returned overland to Moreton Bay—travelling around 8,000 kilometres in 16 months. Mueller saw 2,000 species, some 800 of them new to science, but even a good bushman could cause the occasional problem, though, unlike Richard Cunningham, he found his way back to camp:

One reason for the NAE’s success was its leader, A.C. Gregory, who knew his craft. It did him no harm to have Ferdinand Mueller along as botanist, but Gregory also selected other skilled scientists to round out the team: The party consisted of eighteen persons, as follows: commander A. C. Gregory; assistant commander, H. C. Gregory; geologist, J. S. Wilson; artist and storekeeper, J. Baines; surgeon and naturalist, J. R. Elsey; botanist,

4 January 1856 Started at 7 a.m. and followed up the creek; but Dr. Mueller having wandered away into the rocky hills and lost himself, I halted at the first

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convenient spot, having despatched several of the party to search for him, but it was not till 4 p.m. that the Doctor reached the camp.5

Even today, you can see river red gums (Eucalyptus camaldulensis) on the site of the old Pontine marshes outside Rome; around the once-malarial lagoon north of Argostoli on the Greek island of Kefallonia; outside a French colonial hospital in Siem Reap, Cambodia; in Galicia, Spain—and many other places. As it happened, after the gums were planted in the Pontine marshes, malaria cases dropped off. The reason was not smell, but the thirsty roots of Eucalyptus camaldulensis, which dried out the swamps and stopped mosquitoes breeding.

Mueller returned to Melbourne in triumph, and by August 1857, he was the director of Melbourne’s Botanical Gardens. He started a herbarium, where Australian plant specimens might be stored for reference, and began setting Australia’s botany on a sound footing by creating a local publication in which new species could be described. His Fragmenta Phytographiae Australiae was published in 12 parts, between 1858 and 1882.

Mueller was made president of the Philosophical Institute of Victoria in 1859 when it became the Royal Society of Victoria. He was a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, Linnean Society and Royal Society in London, and president of the Royal Geographical Society, Victorian Branch, from 1883 to 1896.

Mueller’s great dream was to publish a flora of Australia, in Australia, but by 1856, the Kew botanists were already inviting him to do it at Kew, arguing that reference collections and other materials were housed in Europe. In the end, botanist George Bentham did the work at Kew. Mueller cooperated, sending specimens and engaging his network, but bitterly regretted it until the end of his life.

Not only did Mueller import familiar European birds and mammals to Australia and attempt to establish them in the wild, but also the reverse. For example, he assisted Edward Wilson, part-owner of The Argus, to introduce Australian birds into Britain. Wilson had migrated to Australia in 1841, but returned to England to live in the 1860s, for health reasons. Mueller posted the following ad in The Argus:

Worried about the effects of overzealous land clearing, he called for planned forests to provide timber for the future. He was a great acclimatiser, shipping and swapping useful or attractive plants and animals to various parts of the world with similar climates. He also encouraged the distillation of eucalyptus oil, and sent Eucalyptus seeds all over the world, in the belief that they would eliminate malaria.

BRITAIN.—Gentlemen desirous to aid in Mr. EDWARD WILSON’S PLAN of INTRODUCING the AUSTRALIAN MAGPIE and LAUGHING JACKASS into BRITAIN are requested to SEND BIRDS of these species to the undersigned, who will be glad to arrange for their transmission to Europe. FERD. MUELLER. Melbourne Botanical and Zoological Gardens, January 18.6

In the 1850s, a few forward minds suspected that at least some diseases might be caused by tiny life forms, but it was only in the 1860s and 1870s that this theory really caught on. Until then, diseases were officially caused by bad smells—malaria literally means ‘bad air’ and was thought to be caused by the miasmas from evil swamps. The idea was that the smell of Eucalyptus oil would cancel out the miasma.

In 1873, Mueller was replaced as director of the gardens, because people wanted pleasure grounds with statues and artworks, rather than a scientific place of learning and study. Legend has it that he never entered the

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gardens again. He continued to work, however, adding to the herbarium, publishing some 800 papers and major works, ranging from new species to forestry concerns, to the cultivation of new crops.

cause, but he also knew how to motivate these amateur collectors with the appropriate accolades. Mueller was wise to appeal to ladies as well as gentlemen, because, as we will now see, some female amateur naturalists were amazingly accomplished.

Mueller was skilled at enlisting the aid of others to increase his collections, and he retained a network of collectors, many of them ladies with time on their hands and a taste for adventure beyond the garden. Throughout his life, he continued to seek volunteers willing to contribute their skills:

In the case of Louisa Anne Meredith, she was a collector of ideas and observations rather than specimens. Through her writing, she was able to reflect the transformation many settlers underwent—from a dislike of the Australian bush to an appreciation of its wonders.

A gentleman in Perth has received a communication from Sir Ferdinand Von Mueller … which we have been permitted to take the following excerpt for publication:—‘. … You could render me a kind service if you could ask any pastoralist near Champion Bay, or who might pass on inland, to send me small samples of the various herbage on which herds and flocks delight to feed. From such material I could then enter new notes for the tenth edition of my work of “Select Plants” for industrial culture and naturalisation and the name of the contributor would be given.

Unknown artist Blindia robusta

Perhaps the Editor of the West Australian would kindly render my wish known publicly, and also my desire to obtain from settlers in your colony, particularly those of the far inland region, minute plantlets, such as the spring brings out, which are so easily gathered and transmitted. These would be of more novel interest than larger plants unless freshwater weeds and saltbushes. Such aid so easily and cheaply rendered by many of the stations would unable [sic] me to trace still further the geographical distribution of the West Australian plants, which only can be done by the co-operation of numerous widely scattered amateurs, ladies and gentlemen, each of whom will get due credit in my works for discoveries made.7

It is clear to see that Mueller was the kind of scientist who not only saw the benefit in using the ‘man (or woman) on the street’ to further the Australian scientific

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Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Eucalyptus gracilis F.v. Mueller, Eucalyptus largiflorens F.v. Mueller 1886

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Hakea leucoptera Brown, Eremophila longifolia F.v.Mueller, Leptospermum laevigatum F.v.Mueller 1886

True-Blue Naturalists

Marketing Australian Nature Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895)

Mrs Meredith was a studious and cultured woman, and held a distinguished position in literature. Her taste lay chiefly in the direction of natural history and in the tenderness and beneficence which that study always fostered. —Launceston Examiner, 22 October 1895 8

There was a great deal more grit to Mrs Meredith than that obituary might suggest. In 1835, the then Louisa Anne Twamley published Poems, a sentimental book about flowers. In 1836, she brought out a set of colour plates of flowers called The Romance of Nature. This included a great deal of the author’s rather mawkish (by today’s standards) verse, and plates prepared from the author’s own drawings. By the end of 1836, there was a second edition. Romantic verse sold well back then.

than average observer, and would soon write in a new genre that was just emerging. In a sense, she helped invent the travel book. Travel books had a varied market. Intending emigrants needed guidance and encouragement, and some books were written with this dedicated aim, listing what to take in the accessible sea chest and what could go in the hold, as well as those items that would prove necessary but hard to get in the wild Antipodes. The second group of purchasers were those who had settled, but were incapable of writing detailed descriptions. A well-written book with a few superior remarks would always go well as gifts to send home. The largest market, however, was made up of armchair travellers, who had much the same needs as the second group. Then, there were those left behind who needed some reassurance, some accurate information.

In 1839, she had two more works published: Flora’s Gems and Our Wild Flowers. In April, she married her cousin, Charles Meredith, who was visiting Britain from Australia. The third edition of The Romance of Nature also came out in 1839, with the author shown as ‘Mrs. Charles Meredith, late Louisa Anne Twamley’. In June 1839, Mrs Meredith and her new husband sailed for Australia, reaching Sydney in September. After a visit to Bathurst, where Charles inspected sheep stations and she observed, they settled in Homebush, which in those days was almost the outback (there were, she had heard, bushrangers on the Parramatta Road). As an established author, Mrs Meredith was a better

The first three groups wanted both accuracy and entertainment. The problem was that the entertainment imperative could lead to an over-emphasis on negative aspects. The rigours and trials of a strange, new land could add spice. Meredith obliged:

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Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895) plate 1 reproduced from her Bush Friends in Tasmania: Native Flowers, Fruits and Insects, Drawn from Nature, with Prose Descriptions and Illustrations in Verse

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Sydney Harbour 1845

Mrs Meredith was not just irritated by the insect life, the plant life also offended her English eye. There is just a hint, however, of a greater appreciation to come:

Near the North Head is the quarantine-ground, off which one unlucky vessel was moored when we passed; and on the brow of the cliff a few tombstones indicate the burial-place of those unhappy exiles who die during the time of ordeal.9

The leaves are mostly of a dull green, with a dry sapless look about them, more like old specimens in a herbarium than fresh living and growing things, and, being thinly scattered on the branches, have a meagre appearance. … At first I did not like this at all, but now the clean stems of a young handsome gum-tree seem a pleasing variety amidst the sombre hues of an Australian forest.11

Though the harsh voyage had ended, the emigrants had to prepare themselves for the tests ashore in Sydney: Flies are another nuisance; they swarm in every room in tens of thousands, and blacken the breakfast or dinner table as soon as the viands appear, tumbling into the cream, tea, wine, and gravy with the most disgusting familiarity. But worse than these are the mosquitoes, nearly as numerous, and infinitely more detestable to those for whose luckless bodies they form an attachment, as they do to most new comers; a kind of initiatory compliment which I would gladly dispense with, for most intolerable is the torment they cause in the violent irritation of their mountainous bites.10

Her first Australian Christmas, always a shock for the settler from the unfortunate part of the world where Christmas is a time to huddle indoors, brought an unexpected joy when she encountered what we now call Christmas bush, Ceratopetalum gummiferum:

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For some days before Christmas, in our drives near the town, we used to meet numbers of persons carrying bundles of a beautiful native shrub, to decorate the houses, in the same manner that we use holly and evergreens at home. Men, women, and children, white, brown, and black, were in the trade; and sometimes a horse approached, so covered with the bowery load he bore, that only his legs were visible, and led by a man nearly as much hidden; carts heaped up with green and blossomed boughs came noddingly along, with children running beside them, decked out with sprays and garlands, laughing and shouting in proper Christmas jollity … Great quantities of the shrubs grow in the neighbourhood of Sydney, or I should fear that such wholesale demolition as I witnessed would soon render them rare.12

Every good travel book required some colourful natives to dress up the exotic nature of the place described. The reader needed to believe that the writer had been among savages:

Anna Frances Walker (1830–1913) Ceratopetalum gummiferum Sm. 1887

Although they appear to treat their children kindly when they can in some measure help themselves, yet infanticide is frequent among the women, who often dislike the trouble of taking care of their babies, and destroy them immediately after birth, saying that ‘Yahoo’ or ‘Devil-devil’ took them. One woman, whom Mr. Meredith saw a day after the birth of her baby, on being asked where it was, replied with perfect nonchalance, ‘I believe Dingo patta!’ She believed the dog had eaten it! Numbers of hapless little beings are no doubt disposed of by their unnatural mothers in a similar manner.13

In 1840, the Merediths moved to Van Diemen’s Land and took up a farm there. They lost most of their money in the bank crashes and financial collapses that attended the drought of the early 1840s, and Charles became a police magistrate. About this time, Louisa assembled Notes and Sketches of New South Wales, which was published in 1844.

Title page reproduced from The Romance of Nature; or, the Flower Seasons Illustrated by Louisa Anne Meredith

Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895) Emerald King Butterfly, White Cluster (Gualtheria (Gaultheria) hispida), Purple Berry (Billardiera longiflora)

Neville Cayley (1853–1903) Black Swan

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Unsurprisingly (given her clever eye and ready wit), the work was not received well in Sydney, though it sold well enough for publisher John Murray to include it in his Colonial and Home Library series.14 It still reads well today, even for a Sydneysider—but it may be more palatable when you are not one of those being gently mocked. Here is an example of her mockery of Sydney attitudes:

of political reformers, mainly workers, who were active in England from 1838 to 1848. The demands of the diggers at the Eureka Stockade were essentially the ‘six points’ of the Chartists and included such revolutionary ideas as votes for all (provided they were male, white and adult), constituencies of equal size, paid members of parliament and secret ballot—all taken for granted now, or surpassed, in the case of the right to vote.

even after driving elsewhere out of town (for alas the splendour of George Street had no charms for me) we generally made one circuit round the Domain, and as generally found ourselves the only visitors. It was unfashionable, in fact, not the proper thing at all, either to walk or drive in the Domain. It was a notorious fact, that maid-servants and their sweethearts resorted thither on Sundays, and of course that shocking circumstance ruined its character as a place for their mistresses to visit; the public streets being so much more select.15

With great support from his wife, Charles became a free trade member of the Tasmanian Legislative Assembly, held several ministerial portfolios, and fought to preserve native flora and fauna. He even introduced a bill to protect the black swan from extinction. Mrs Meredith went in boots and all for the swans in Tasmania’s Friends and Foes, in which she attacked a police magistrate called ‘Captain M.’ for taking and selling ‘hundreds and thousands of dozens of eggs’ of black swans, sending them by government boat to Hobart for sale:

Meredith had many talents. She beautifully illustrated several of her books. She wrote opinion pieces for the local paper, and she also wrote for children:

I don’t believe there would be one alive now in a wild state, had not an Act been passed in our Parliament for their protection in the breeding season.17

Waratah Rhymes, for young Australia, is a volume of verse from the facile pen of Louisa A. Meredith. ‘Wattle Birds in Gum Trees,’ ‘The Bower Bird’s Song,’ ‘Laughing Jackasses,’ are titles that show the local character of the rhymes.

Charles died in 1880, and in 1884, the Tasmanian Government granted Mrs Meredith a pension of £100 a year in recognition of her ‘distinguished literary and artistic services’ to the colony. She went to London in 1891 to see her Bush Friends in Tasmania: Last Series through the press, then returned, blind in one eye and in continual pain from sciatica.

Three large grey birds sit up in a tree, And they look as solemn as birds can be. With very big beaks, and half-shut eyes— Did you ever see anything look so wise? Hark! All on a sudden one of the three Bursts out a laughing! ‘Ha, ha! Ho, hee!’

The Englishwoman who had started out dismissing the bush as dull green, more like herbarium specimens, had come to love and protect it, and to encourage others to at least consider its glories.

There is the true lilt for children in this as in other verses.16

The Merediths were both liberals in their day. She grew up in Birmingham when the 1832 Reform Bill was in the air, and later wrote in support of the Chartists, a group

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True-Blue Naturalists

Sisters with Honorary Status Among the Chaps Harriet Scott (1830–1907) and Helena Scott (1832–1910)

A collection of Australian Lepidoptera : Antheræ janetta, 4 specimens; Antheræa simplex, 4; Sphinx erotus, 3; Sphinx luctuosa, 2; Sphinx Bernardus, 2; Chorocampa cinerea; Agarista agricola, 1; Danais corinna, 2; Pieris harpalyse, 2; Acræa andromacha, 4; Hesperia coneeba; Physicampa sapotearum, 3; Curapteri (1); and several specimens of Hemiptera. Presented by the Misses Scott, Ash Island. —The Sydney Morning Herald, Monday, 8 April 1861 18

The Scott sisters were born in Australia. Their parents did not marry until 1846, when their daughters were teenagers, but this does not seem to have harmed the family’s social position, despite what we hear about ‘Victorian’ primness. Their father, Alexander, was a member of the Legislative Assembly and then the Legislative Council in the 1850s and 1860s, a trustee of the Australian Museum from 1862 to 1879, and a founding member of the Entomological Society of New South Wales.

many other distinguished artists and scientists over the years. After he married in 1846, the family moved there and Alexander devoted himself to entomology. As the author of Helena’s obituary wrote in 1910: In the old days Ash Island, with its remarkable vegetation and its wealth of animal life, especially of insects, was a paradise for the naturalist, and the Scott family readily responded to its attractiveness.19

Living there and educated by their father, Harriet and Helena gained a wide knowledge of Australian plants and animals. The first hint of their future prominence came when they were 21 and 19, respectively. This was in an advance review from William Swainson, an English naturalist who worked in New Zealand and Tasmania, and on the Australian mainland, but who had visited Ash Island. In the review, Swainson comments on the girls’ illustrations for an impending publication:

Alexander Scott was a leading Hunter Valley and Newcastle citizen, who at one stage held 4 square miles (1,036 hectares) of land on Ash Island in the Hunter River, until he lost the heavily mortgaged property in 1866. The son of a medical man and botanist, Alexander trained for the law. He gave it up to be a speculative merchant, and crashed badly after unsuccessful voyages in 1827, 1829 and 1831. After the third disaster, he settled on Ash Island, though by 1837, he was living in Newcastle House on the Newcastle harbour front.

Australian Lepidoptera and their Transformations, drawn from the Life … a projected work, which has for many years been preparing for publication by Mr. Scott and his two accomplished daughters. I esteem myself fortunate in having visited Australia previous to the transmission of these drawings and papers to Europe,

He kept a second residence on Ash Island, which Ludwig Leichhardt visited and admired in 1842, as did

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Helena Forde (1832–1910) The flying Fox (Pteropus poliocephalus)

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Harriet Scott (1830–1907) Chelepteryx expolitus, Eulophocampe amaena

‘They raised butterflies and moths to understand and illustrate their life cycle’

Helena Scott (1832–1910) Coequosa triangularis

knew and illustrated the insects’ food plants—a great step forward from the usual illustrations of Lepidoptera that were done from pinned specimens and with no knowledge of them in life.

because, independent of the gratification, and I may add, instruction, they have afforded me, I am thus enabled to give some account of them to the public, and to point out the value they possess, not merely in reference to local feelings and associations, but also to the far higher and more enduring interests of entomological science throughout the civilised world.20

Soon after the book appeared, the sisters were elected as honorary members of the Entomological Society (it wasn’t quite ‘done’ back then to allow ladies to be full members). Still, if the ‘girls’ were not allowed to join the boys’ clubs, the boys required good illustrations done by a trained eye, so the sisters had many commissions from scientists, including the Macleays, Dr J.C. Cox, and Gerard Krefft, for whom they painted snakes and mammals:

When the publisher placed an advertisement the following Wednesday, also premature, it was clear that the artists and their paintings were the stars: The drawings and manuscript of this Work, which has been in preparation for several years, are now completed and will shortly be transmitted to England for publication. It is intended in the first instance to send 118 drawings to be comprised in fifty-two plates. They represent the Larva, Chrysalis, and perfect Insects, with their various parts magnified, the plants on which the caterpiller feeds, and frequently a view of some interesting scene or object. The descriptive portion of the Work will be ample, and has been prepared with great care. The size of the volume will be Royal Quarto, and it is calculated that it can be handsomely printed, with the drawings highly executed and coloured for £2 10s.21

The gifted daughters of A. W. Scott, Esq., M. A.— Miss Scott and Mrs. Edward Forde—have done everything in their power to give correct figures of the reptiles illustrated … the different species will be easily recognized.22

In 1864, Helena married Edward Forde, and went west to survey the Darling River between Wentworth and Bourke. While he worked, she collected fodder grasses and specimens for a proposed Flora of the Darling, but when Forde died of a fever at Menindee in 1866, she returned to Sydney and passed her collections over to botanist William Woolls.

Financial difficulties delayed the lavishly illustrated publication for 18 years, until 1869. Alexander, always a strong promoter of his daughters’ work to his scientific colleagues, took third place as its author, a highly unusual arrangement for the time—volume 1 came out as ‘Australian Lepidoptera and Their Transformations Drawn from Life by Harriet and Helena Scott, with descriptions, general and systematic by A.W. Scott’. But then Alexander had never been conventional.

Alexander was bankrupted about the same time and the sisters were forced to seek work. They designed Christmas cards with Australian themes, and Harriet’s drawings of native flowers and ferns graced the 1884 and 1886 editions of The Railway Guide of New South Wales.23 The sense of Australianness was gathering pace. Harriet married in 1882, but was said to have been unhappy in that relationship. Helena never remarried, but seems to have been contented:

Both Harriet and Helena were accomplished naturalists in their own right. They collected unusual plants and animals, lodging them at the Australian Museum. They raised butterflies and moths to understand and illustrate their life cycle, and they

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The beautiful original artwork for Australian Lepidoptera and many of the sisters’ unpublished paintings are today held by the Australian Museum, along with the sisters’ diaries and Alexander’s papers. The illustrations have never been bettered.

Of late years Mrs. Forde had resided in retirement at Parramatta. Her many friends recognised in her a warm-hearted, cultured woman of very considerable intellectual gifts, and with a very retentive memory, well stored with recollections of old times. Her keen interest in science, as well as in human affairs, was maintained up to the last; and she passed away peacefully in her sleep, at the advanced age of nearly four-score years.24

Harriet Scott (1830–1907) Dog-headed Thylacine, or Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacinus cynocephalus) 1871

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Harriet Scott (1830–1907) Ferns: Hypolepis (sp.) Lawson; Gleichenia dicarpa Wentworth Falls; Asplenium flabellifolium Mount Victoria; Alsophila australis Katoomba

Helena Scott (1832–1910) Hesperia coreeba, Pamphila palmarum

True-Blue Naturalists

A Voice from the Bush Louisa Atkinson (1834–1872)

An elegant tablet of white Carrara marble has been placed in St. Peter’s Church, Richmond, to the memory of the late Mrs. Calvert (well known as Miss Louisa Atkinson, of the Kurrajong), whose charitable ministrations and scientific labours have rendered her name familiar to most persons in this colony. —The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 April 1874 25

Louisa Atkinson was born at Oldbury near Berrima, in the days when road conditions to and from Sydney varied from appalling to diabolical. This description was written just after her eighth birthday:

Atkinson’s mother fled with the children, eventually settling at Fernhurst at Kurrajong Heights, on the slopes of the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. The roads were better here, but rather than attending school, Louisa, now a young lady, started her own school for those Kurrajong children too young or delicate to travel each day to the closest school at Richmond.

The roads between Sydney and Berrima are in a wretched state, being in many places completely broken up by the late rains … in several parts dead bullocks are lying which have been killed by the drivers, their limbs having previously been broken accidentally, by their falling, with their loads. In many parts of the road, the small bridges over the creeks are partially broken down … The ruts on Long-swamp hill, at Mr. Cordeaux’s property, as well as on Razor-back and Kenney’s Hill, are in some places several feet deep.26

Atkinson was apparently devout, but of cheerful disposition, and the freedom she had experienced at Oldbury led her to adopt sensible clothing for poking around in the bush or riding a horse. The actual nature of her attire was never specified, but tradition has it that Kurrajong’s ‘old biddies’ became worked up about it, so it probably included trousers. Regardless, Louisa’s teaching and her church and charitable contributions made her unassailable.

Fortunately for Atkinson, she was spared the danger of having to travel the long distances each day, to and from school. She was home-schooled by her mother, a former teacher who cared for natural history, and a competent artist, so the young girl grew to love the bush and everything in it.

In part to help support the family, she began to write novels. Her first, Gertrude the Emigrant, was published in Sydney in 1857 (ascribed to ‘an Australian lady’). This was followed, in 1859, by Cowanda, the Veteran’s Grant (by ‘the Author of Gertrude’).

Atkinson’s father had died when she was barely two months old.27 Her mother married George Barton, who had worked for them, but he proved violent and unstable.

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Louisa Atkinson (1834–1872) Spotted Pardalote, Scarlet Honeyeater, Superb Blue Wren and Striated Pardalote c.1860

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) From the Currajong above Douglass’ Farm c.1853

In 1859, she began writing a series of natural history sketches under the heading A Voice from the Country and using the by-line ‘L.A. Fernhurst’, a fairly transparent disguise. The series, which ran for a number of years, appeared in both The Sydney Morning Herald and Sydney Mail.

Her knowledge was limited in some areas, but she was a true field naturalist, full of scintillating facts, as illustrated in her 1861 article ‘Antechinus, Bees’. The article begins with a discussion of a small carnivorous marsupial, the antechinus. While at first the writer introduces it as a perceived pest, she then continues with an objective and detailed description:

The articles drew the attention of botanist William Woolls, who introduced her to Ferdinand von Mueller at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Melbourne. Her excursions on horseback led her to discover the bush, where she collected and drew or painted many plant specimens. She also recorded birds, reptiles and insects exquisitely in watercolour, pen and ink.28 Several of her plant discoveries were sent to Mueller in Melbourne, who named the genus Atkinsonia after her, and several species: Erechtites atkinsoniae, Epacris calvertiana, and a form of the fern, Doodia caudate, that was dubbed D. atkinsonii.

Some short time since, a curious and interesting little animal was brought under my notice by the kindness of a neighbour. It had been captured eating an opossum which had been shot and laid in a back kitchen. In the first instance, it was taken alive, but, afterwards escaping, was killed by the dogs. Here, it is called a weazel, which animal it resembles in its habits only; it is nocturnal and very destructive to poultry, which, it kills by sucking the blood from the throat. The general appearance suggests both the rat and the opossum.

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The head is two inches in length, the body six, and the tail also six inches in length; the fore legs are two and a-half inches, the hind three inches in length; the body, slender … Its movements must be crouching and active. The teeth indicate that it belongs to Antechinus, of which genera another species is known in these mountains, under the name of bush-mouse. It is said to resemble one which I figured from specimens caught at Meredith Forest, a few miles from Berrima. Some sheets of bark had been split, but not removed for a week or two; when raised, two small animals were found between them; they had constructed a nest of detached fibres, and carried in some provision in the shape of beetles.29

In 1865, Atkinson and her mother moved back to their beloved Oldbury (run by Atkinson’s brother James), where Mrs Barton died in 1867, after a long and painful illness.30 About 18 months later, Louisa Atkinson married James Calvert, who had been wounded on the night John Gilbert died during Leichhardt’s 1845 expedition. Now, at the age of 43, he bought a property nearby.

Charlotte Elizabeth Atkinson (1828–1911) Louisa c.1842–1846

Louisa found a new lease of life with her husband at Sutton Forest. The ‘Voice from the Country’ had been quiet for about five or six years, until May 1870, but now she returned, under the by-line ‘L.C.’. Sadly, there were only two articles published before Louisa died of a heart attack in April 1872, soon after giving birth to a daughter.31

far from towns. A few cleared meadows about the house are dotted with cattle, for it is a stopping place for fat stock on their way to market, and about the cottage are some groups of gaily-dressed men, with scarlet shirts and high leather boots, while the pack saddles are hardly removed from their weary horses. The eye wanders round upon the scene near; all so domestic, the proud domineering turkey cock, the busy hens, the geese, with their downy goslings, children at play, all the objects of a well stocked farmyard, and beyond the rich, dense wood, with tints so varied, the golden and red young leaves, the deep green of acacias, the sombre shades of the gum-trees … In a very low room, around a well covered supper-table, are assembled a group of travellers, old friends meeting after some months, and, between attention to the cups of tea, and roast sucking pig recounting their travels.33

Two giants of Sydney’s science, the Rev. W.B. Clarke and William Sharp Macleay, praised Louisa’s nature writing.32 In seeking her legacy, however, it would be remiss to discount her literary talents and record of colonial Australia: SEVEN miles from the nearest neighbour, about three thousand feet above the sea in the wild wooded mountains of Cook, stands an accommodation house; a low wooden cottage, neat and clean, but very Australian—a quiet little place such as we meet with

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True-Blue Naturalists

A Mere Flower Painter Ellis Rowan (1848–1922)

If Georgiana Molloy and Amalie Dietrich were as different as chalk and cheese—which they were—then Ellis Rowan was as different from them as cherries are from chalk or cheese. Of these three great women naturalists who worked in Australia … Georgiana’s the one I’m sorriest for, Amalie the one I admire most, and Ellis the one whose company I’d like best on a field trip. She had so many strings to her bow. —Margaret Sydney, 1976 34

Marian Ellis Ryan was born in 1848 in Melbourne, then a reasonably prosperous little town, a centre for trade in farm produce and farmers’ needs. Wealth came from wheat, wool, skins and tallow. Without any refrigerated ships, little meat was exported. Valuable animals became tallow that might be sold to make crude ‘dip’ candles and soap, or used to grease the slow steam engines of the time.

at Mt Macedon, built a mansion he named Derriweit Heights, and developed magnificent grounds with plants and seeds obtained from Ferdinand von Mueller and other notable naturalists of the time, including Thomas Mitchell. Cotton died in 1849, but Ellis (as she was known to distinguish her from her mother) inherited his sketchbooks and, it seems, his skills. She also had some good luck—when Ferdinand Mueller called in to advise her father on his gardens, he saw the young girl’s work. The visiting botanist was highly impressed and encouraged her to train to become a botanical artist, but the headstrong girl had other ideas.

In a few years, immense goldfields opened, Port Phillip became the colony of Victoria and the city of Melbourne began to burst its seams. Faster steam engines, needing better lubricants than tallow, were driving land and sea transport before Ellis was a teenager, and her home town was now a confident and aggressive home city.

Ellis married Frederic Rowan in 1873, and went with him to New Zealand, where the former British army officer was a sub-inspector in the armed constabulary, a semi-military force that had the task of ‘pacifying’ the Maori. She returned to Melbourne to have their son, and in 1877, the armed constabulary was disbanded and the family settled in Victoria, where her husband went into business.

In the 1840s, Ellis’s father, Charles Ryan, reached Sydney from County Kilkenny, overlanded to the future Victoria, and leased a station in the Port Phillip colony. A few years later, he married Marian, the daughter of John Cotton, an English naturalist and ornithologist, who had arrived with a large family in 1843. In the 1850s, having made his fortune, Ryan bought 26 acres

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Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Lomatia c.1880

Peince Ellis Rowan Sketching Mary Moule Sitting on the Ground 1887

She continued to paint, and by 1880, her work was good enough to win a gold medal in the Melbourne Exhibition—the only Australian to do so. She won several more medals in other exhibitions, but then came the challenge to her artistic credentials. Melbourne’s Centennial International Exhibition ran from August 1888 to February 1889, and the awards to artists were announced in January 1889.

International Exhibition which were confirmed at a meeting of the executive commissioners held last Friday, have given rise to dissatisfaction among the members of the Victorian Artists Society. It is complained by these gentlemen that the only first class award made in the Victorian court has been gained by a lady, Mrs. Rowan, whose beautiful flower paintings were regarded as first class work in each of the courts in which she exhibited, while the portraits and landscapes of Mr Tom Roberts, Mr George Walton, Mr John Mather, Mr J. Ford-Patterson, and Signor Loureiro have been placed in the second or third class. The artists mentioned are giving the matter their attention, with a view to drawing up a protest against the awards as at present confirmed.35

In open competition with male artists, she had again taken out a first-class award, and the boys’ own hissy fit brigade began to squeal. Not to put too fine a point on it, the chaps were outraged that a mere woman (and a mere flower painter at that) should again beat them:

That night, there was a meeting of the Victorian Society of Artists, at which protests were made to

The awards of the jury in connection with the department of Victorian art at the Centennial

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the jurors against the award given to Rowan and her flower paintings. As a result, M. Buvelot’s landscape was promoted to first class and subsequently won a gold medal.36 In a letter to The Argus, ‘A Juryman’ blamed the press, pointing out that some of the confusion arose from the way the awards were reported in the newspapers, in that no distinctions were made between the various categories. The confused and haphazard way the awards had been published implied a direct competition between ‘mere flower paintings’ and the other artists’ ‘own remarkable works’.37 The juryman had more to say:

went.39 After his death, she headed overseas for many years of travel. Mueller stayed a supportive friend, helping Rowan with introductions as she travelled the world, and he identified the Australasian flowers she painted, so that many of her paintings bear species names, written on the back in his distinctive handwriting. In 1896, the year Mueller died, Rowan was exhibiting paintings and sketches in London. After her only son died in 1897, she continued to travel and paint.40 She also lived and worked in the United States, but in 1909, she did something very different.

Even admitting flower painting to be an inferior branch of art, it is absurd to pretend that Mrs. Rowan is not entitled to a first award for super excellence in that branch because Messrs Mather and Ashton only get second awards in an entirely different branch. In judging pictures we compare like with like, i.e., flower pieces with flower pieces, figure subjects with figure subjects, landscapes with landscapes. We do not place a portrait in comparison with a fruit piece, or a landscape with a genre subject. All this may appear very simple when it is pointed out, but it seems to have been completely lost sight of by the members of the Victorian Society of Artists. Their complaints are no more rational than would be the complaint of the manufacturer of a highly finished piano that he obtained only a second award in his department, while an exhibitor of carpets had received a first award in his.38

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Darwinia citriodora c.1880

While the boys behaved badly, Rowan herself stayed out of it. The stoush was in vain: the panel of judges stuck by their decision and Rowan retained her medals. In 1892, Frederic Rowan died of pneumonia, and Ellis Rowan kept on painting. She had already been living largely apart from him, spending most of 1890 and 1891 travelling in remote Western Australia and northern Queensland, painting flowers wherever she

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Sir,—Many paragraphs have appeared in the daily Press within the last few months urging the Federal Government to purchase the Ellis Rowan Collection. Before the Federal Government pledges itself to such an important step the matter should be looked upon from all sides. Of Mrs. Rowan’s courage and the sincerity of her devotion to a lifelong interest in Australian flora there can be no doubt. But after seeing her work for nearly thirty years, and reviewing it with the ablest of our Australian painters, I cannot find one who did not regret her lack of artistry … There remains the botanical value of the collection. Mrs. Rowan has illustrated in America three books dealing with South American flowers and trees, while the Queensland Government, through their botanist, Mr. F. Manson Bailey, has used some of her water colours as colour illustrations to his work. But I should like to point out that the dissections and microscopic details, which are all-important in botanical work, are not by Mrs. Rowan, but by trained observers, who have had to use the natural flowers. It might be well for the Federal Government to pause before committing the country to a purchase of such questionable value. I am, etc, JULIAN ASHTON. Nov. 30.42

In other words, he argued, Rowan’s life work had neither artistic nor scientific merit.

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Acacia podalyriifolia, A. Cunn ex G. Don, Family Fabaceae, Mount Morgan Wattle or the Queensland Silver Wattle, Queensland c.1880

In October 1922, almost a year after that meanspirited letter, Ellis Rowan died. The collection was still not sold, even though the Hughes government expressed interest in it. In 1923, the Commonwealth Government purchased 947 watercolours. Today, housed in the National Library of Australia, they are the nation’s pride and joy.

At a time when most people were slowing down, the 68-year-old Rowan decided to visit New Guinea to paint its flowers and birds. She returned again the following year, travelling alone, and contracted malaria, which almost killed her. After her return to Melbourne, she started to negotiate the sale of her collected paintings to the Commonwealth of Australia. The boys’ club was waiting to pounce. Julian Ashton, whose brother George had been involved in the 1889 fiasco, decided to meddle:41

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Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Eucalyptus globulus c.1880

True-Blue Naturalists

Bagging the Bunyip William Sharp Macleay (1792–1865)

The animal is not new, and this skull, when compared with the one from the Hawkesbury, only serves to show the extreme limits between which all monstrous variation of the place of the eyes in the horse can possibly occur. —W.S. Macleay, 1847 43

In the early years of Sydney Town, the Macleay family held a dominant position in the Establishment— they were at the centre of scientific and social life in the colony, entertaining visiting scientists and dignitaries, collecting plants and animals, and playing a central role in establishing the colony’s scientific institutions and societies. William Sharp Macleay is not to be confused with his cousin Sir William Macleay, who endowed the Macleay Museum in Sydney. Sir William was a competent collector, but William Sharp was an incisive mind—an expert who let his intellect loose on anybody who displeased him. Born in London in 1792, he attended Trinity College in Cambridge in 1809. He had an interest in natural history, which he shared with his father, Alexander, who in 1825 was appointed colonial secretary and moved the rest of the family to Sydney.

garnered prominence and influence in the colony, becoming its leading naturalist. An early reference to Macleay in the colonial press shows him in the chair at a meeting of the Zoological Society in London in 1837: May 9. - W. S. Macleay, Esq., in the chair. Mr. Gould exhibited a new family of ground-finches, from the collection of Mr. Darwin, consisting of four genera, and fourteen species, of a form entirely new, which were principally from the Gallapagos Islands, but inhabit a vast portion of the western coast of America.44

These finches were, of course, Darwin’s famous Galapagos finches. Macleay was well regarded in London. In September 1837, he was president of the section on natural history when the British Association for the Advancement of Science met in Liverpool. As a man of such standing, right at the centre of things, the question begs—why did he move to Australia? There was no scandal in London, no unseemly brawl, so a mundane set of answers must do. First, after working at the embassy in Paris, Macleay relocated to Havana, where he spent some 11 years as part of

In 1818, William Sharp Macleay was appointed attaché to the British embassy in Paris, where he met several distinguished scientists. He joined his family in Sydney in 1839, living at his father’s home, Elizabeth Bay House, which he inherited in 1848. He quickly

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Harold Cazneaux (1878–1953) Staircase, Elizabeth Bay House 1930

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a tribunal aimed at abolishing the slave trade. Upon retirement he received a pension of £900 a year, so he was well-off. Second, his father was the colonial secretary in Sydney, so he would enter the right social circles. Then, there were the scientific reasons. Macleay had spent his spare time in Cuba collecting insect specimens, and Australia was wide-open as a field of endeavour for a gentleman naturalist. Through his connections, Macleay knew he could probably acquire some ‘servants’ (a euphemism for convicts)—useful and cunning men, perhaps ex-poachers, who could fetch for him all the creatures he needed, while he sat in a shady nook in his father’s lovely house on Sydney Harbour, generating monographs. That aside, Barron Field, an Australian judge and author, had proposed sending him to Australia in 1825, around the time that Macleay went off to Havana, but there had been no position available. Field had said:

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Elizabeth Bay, Port Jackson 1850

Australia is the land of contrarieties, where the laws of nature seem reversed; her zoology can only be studied and unravelled on the spot, and that too only by a profound philosopher.

Then he continued: Such an one is among us; and every circumstance now seems to point him out [to the government].45

Lest the government find this reference obscure, Field identified the ‘such an one’ as the author of Horae Entomologicae, meaning William Sharp Macleay. Whatever his reasons, Macleay packed up and moved to Australia, working actively for the good of science and the Australian Museum. He made Elizabeth Bay House famous for its gardens. He also built up a library that he bequeathed to his cousin Sir William, who would in turn deposit it in a suitable institution. In 1890, after his cousin Sir William inherited Elizabeth Bay House, the library went to the Macleay Museum in the University of Sydney.

To this day, that museum has, in pride of place, the skull of a ‘bunyip’ that Macleay examined and explained. His study offers a good insight into the way a confident scientist, unconcerned about ruffling feathers, is able to proceed. To an unbiased judge, it looks remarkably like arrogance, but Macleay had something worth being arrogant about.

It is described as being the skull of an animal of the carnivorous order, as is ascertained from the teeth, with a very large cavity for the brain, and a long protruding bill or jaw, which is broken off before the molares; the lower part is altogether wanting, and so is the top of the skull. Sufficient is however left to show that it belongs to an order of animals not yet described as either of anti or post diluvian existence.47

The term ‘bunyip’ began appearing regularly in newspapers in early 1847. It was known earlier, and a couple of newspapers carried a report of one in July 1845, credited to the Geelong Advertiser, but 1847 was the year of the bunyip, and it began, apparently, in the Port Phillip Patriot. Early January is typically the ‘silly season’ when any story will do to fill the news columns, and what could be better than the bunyip, or Kine Pratie—a fierce carnivorous monster, known to inhabit ‘deep and dark pools’, and confirmed by Aboriginal witnesses and bushmen as well.46

Hobler also said there were more of these creatures in Lake Taria, about 12 kilometres away, and that various Aboriginal tribes had different names for the creature. Even out of the silly season, there was enough there to excite the populace, and explorer William Hovell, best known in the phrase ‘Hume and Hovell’, now weighed Sketches of the alleged bones of a bunyip, provided by William Hovell, which appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald, Tuesday, 9 February 1847

If learned and clever men such as Dr Bennett and Mr Macleay could discourse loud and long about marsupial lions, giant wombats and giant kangaroos, the common man was free to think there had been, and still might be, surprising animals in the bush, in deep pools and other lonely places. It is even easier to believe in bunyips when genuine and puzzling bones are offered as evidence. After reports of mysterious sightings, word came that a Mr Hobler of Lake Paika, some 40 kilometres below the junction of the Lachlan and Murrumbidgee rivers, had made inquiries and confirmed that local Aboriginal people avoided the lake, for fear of the Kine Pratie that lived there. He declared that the skull of one—well preserved and of recent date—was in the possession of a Mr Fletcher, who had declined to sell it, ‘well knowing the value of the prize he had got’:

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in, offering sketches of the Fletcher skull, which were duly printed in The Sydney Morning Herald.48

had large ears, which it pricked up when it perceived him; had a thick mane of hair from the head down the neck, and two large tusks; he turned to run away, and this creature equally alarmed ran off too, and from the glance he took at it, he describes it as having an awkward shambling gallop; the fore-quarters of the animal were very large in proportion to the hindquarters, and it had a large tail, but whether he compared it to that of a horse or a bullock I do not recollect; he took two men to the place next morning to look for its track, which they describe as broad and square, somewhat like what the spread hand of a man would make in soft muddy ground.49

He indicated that the skull itself had been sent to Melbourne, but provided measurements, and further accounts of Aboriginal people confirming the tale. Then he explained how Mr Fletcher had heard from Aboriginal people who claimed to have killed the animal, which led him to go and recover the skull. Postal services were slow in the bush back then, and the next phase came with a letter written by George Hobler to William Hovell. It was dated 6 May, but did not appear in print until mid-June. Now, Hobler reported a different monster on the cattle station of a Mr Tyson, near the Lachlan swamps:

It had been reported by a boy, and according to Hobler, this boy ‘had never heard of the kine pratia’, making it more likely that his tale was true, but no lad, intelligent or otherwise, would have made his way up-country without being subjected to yarns and tall tales.

it was about as big as a six months’ old calf, of a dark brown colour, a long neck and long pointed head; it

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Conrad Martens (artist, 1801–1878), Thomas Picken (engraver, active 1853–1878) View of Sydney, N.S.W. 1855

Such is the way of the bush—as is turning the tables on your tormentors. Even city folk knew that. How else would they have known to reject the wild stories that bushmen sometimes told about egg-laying mammals? Still, Hobler, Hovell, and the public all fell for it, a little bit. Then Macleay entered the discussion.

incomplete but, from what was available, it presented a challenge. In some ways it resembled an emu or ostrich, yet in other ways it was like a primate. Then followed a technical analysis that led him to conclude that, far from being a carnivore, the animal was graminivorous, an eater of grasses and cereals, like a horse.

The Melbourne skull had been sent to Sydney for study. After examining a portion of the skull, Macleay offered his erudite account: ‘the more particularly, as another and still more extraordinary skull in my possession offers very considerable means for throwing light on the subject’.50 In short, he had seen one of these before.

This was no ordinary horse, though. It might be camel-like, but the light cranium and the sharp crowns on the molars (which were only milk teeth) told the same tale: this was a young animal, or else a foetus. Then came the killer blow: I have however, I repeat, in my possession the skull of a foetus of a mare, which was found floating on the river Hawkesbury, in the year 1841. This skull was prepared by the lamented late Dr. Stewart, and he has made drawings and notes of it, which I intend before

He began by confirming that the skull was recent and no fossil, and that an inscription identified it as having been found by Atholl T. Fletcher in 1846. It was

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extraordinary molars. We must trust, therefore, to the continued liberality of Mr. Isaac, and to further researches being made by him in the vicinity of Darling Downs.52

long to publish, with his other observations on various branches of natural history. Now the great elevation of the cranium, and the extraordinary development of the frontal, parietal, and occipital bones, are even more remarkable in this foal’s head than in the animal from the Murrumbidgee. The grand distinction, between the two skulls is, that while in this the ocular orbits are as far as possible apart almost touching the molars, in the Hawkesbury skull the eyes converge so as to unite and form one circular orbit in the middle of the forehead, the animal being thus a true Cyclops.51

Here is another hint of a growing impatience with grasping European museums cornering Australian material. There was none of the spirit of eureka here, but there was a whiff of change in the air. It was perhaps unexpected from a man who, just ten years earlier, had resigned from the National Board of Education because the attorney-general suggested that Dr William Bland, once convicted for duelling, might deserve a place on the senate of the proposed University of Sydney. Macleay and his friends were the exclusivists, who felt that the convict taint could never be washed away:

Stewart’s Hawkesbury ‘cyclops’, a freak of nature, is on proud display in the Macleay Museum. Macleay would happily take on anybody he considered to be wrong, even if the mistaken one was a giant such as Richard Owen. In 1859, ill health was starting to affect him, but he lashed out at Owen’s Thylacoleo—the marsupial ‘lion’—upon which Owen had conferred a fierce predator status, calling it ‘the great Lion’. The Australian Museum now held three specimens, thanks to ‘Mr. Isaac of Darling Downs’. These revealed that the animal was hardly larger than a good-sized dog, and Macleay questioned whether the teeth were flesh-cutting at all, as Owen believed:

Circumstances have, however, lately occurred which oblige me in conscience to decline sitting at an Educational Board, not only with persons who have been prisoners of the Crown, but with a gentleman who has displayed so strong a leaning towards the Emancipists, as to state that any of their class ought to be selected out of all this community to manage the education of youth.53

Think kindly on Macleay, for he was a creature of his time and society. He was, nonetheless, an original thinker, an extremely clever observer, and an encourager of others who were keen to pursue natural history.

We have a solitary fossil tooth in the Museum, which was also sent by Mr. Isaac in his last envoi, and which, in size and form, is intermediate between the premolars of Thylacoleo and Hypsiprymnus. I believe, therefore, the Thylacoleo to have been a frugivorous marsupial quadruped like Hypsiprymnus; but, at the same time, to have been very different from this, in general structure and appearance. Professor Owen, if the report of his lecture be correct, would seem to have received from Melbourne some portion of this singular animal’s skull. It is much to be regretted that as yet our Museum should not have been furnished with any part, except three fragments of the under jaw, with the attached

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Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Sketch of the Coast from Darling Harbour to Elizabeth Bay Showing the Grants to Mr. McLeay and Six Other Gentlemen 1832



A Painting Coroner

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The Business of Nature

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The Gentleman Painter

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The Mammalian Egg’s Tale

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The Value of a Curious Mind

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John Lewin (1770–1819)

John Gould (1804–1881) and Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841)

George French Angas (1822–1886)

William Hay Caldwell (1859–1941)

Acknowledgements

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We have but a slight knowledge also of the natural history of the continent; slight however as it is, no country has ever produced a more extraordinary assemblage of indigenous productions; no country has proved richer than Australia in every branch of natural history. —Phillip Parker King, 18271

Up until the nineteenth century, naturalists travelled to Australia with no intention of staying. They collected the plants and animals, which were taken back to Europe to be named, described, illustrated and pronounced upon from afar. During the nineteenth century, naturalists travelled throughout Australia, describing its natural history from personal experiences of the living world. They studied the wildlife in the wild. They may then have killed it or sampled it, but they were familiar with the living creatures and many of their habits. John and Elizabeth Gould, George French Angas and William Hay Caldwell all came and studied natural history in the field, and the Goulds, Angas and John Lewin illustrated it from life.

Australia Live

A Painting Coroner John Lewin (1770–1819)

PROPOSALS For publishing by subscription, The Birds of New South Wales, with their Natural History. This work is the first fruits of the labour of Mr. John W. Lewin, A. L. S. who has spent near eight years in this Colony; occupied in collecting and arranging Materials for its Publication. The first Volume will contain Eighteen Plates, and will be published in the most elegant manner. Many of the birds are new subjects, and will be systematically arranged, and scientifically named, with their descriptions in French and English. The Price of this Volume in imperial Quarto is

Two Guineas. Gentlemen wishing to become subscribers to this Work, will favour the Author, Mr. John Lewin, with their names which will be thankfully received by him. N.B. This Work will be sent to England by His Majesty’s Ship Buffalo, under the care of a Gentleman for immediate Publication. The Terms of Subscription are half the Subscription Money to be paid at the time of Subscribing, and the other half on the delivery of the Work. — Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 14 September 1806 2

In that 1806 advertisement, Australia’s first free artist– naturalist declared his intentions, and at the same time probably hoped to raise some money for his publication. He was certainly not trying to become known in the small hamlet that was the hub of New South Wales, because he had landed in Sydney with a splash, eight years earlier. To begin with, he missed the ship on which his wife travelled, and that set the scene for a scandal that would have made the couple memorable.

Fortunately, John Lewin was well connected. His father, William, was a fellow of the Linnean Society and author of a work called The Birds of Great Britain, in which both John and his brother Thomas played a part. Somewhere around 1797, Lewin conceived the idea of a visit to New South Wales. His first work, Prodromus Entomology, Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales, was published in 1805. A British entomologist named Dru Drury supplied Lewin with entomology equipment in exchange for insects. There were, however, some unexpected problems.

Sydney was even smaller in 1798, and Lewin arrived on the Minerva to find that his wife, Maria, had launched a lawsuit in the colony over allegations she had engaged in ‘misconduct’ with Hugh Michan, the second mate of the Buffalo. Lewin supported his wife and she won, clearing her name, but a juicy scandal never disappears completely, especially when there were so many titillating anecdotes floating around the case.

Just as La Billardière had difficulties getting flowers from high trees, Lewin found his own challenge in the tall timbers. He wrote to Drury in 1803: In the same letter [you] inquire if I have a beating Sheet, in answer to which I must inform you about this Country, and you will find that Insects [are] not to be got here as att home, for in all my trials with the Sheet

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John William Lewin (1770–1819) New Holland Honeyeater (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae) and Sour Currant Bush (Leptomeria acida) 1790s

Joseph Cross Map of Part of New South Wales, Embellished with Views in the Harbours of Port Jackson 1825

John William Lewin (1770–1819) The Plains, Bathurst c.1815

John William Lewin (1770–1819) View in Tahiti 1802

In 1804, Governor King granted Lewin 100 acres (40 hectares) of land near Parramatta, but he was probably too busy painting to farm it—spending his time visiting the Nattai River and the Cowpastures in pursuit of insects and birds. When he first offered the farm for sale in 1809, it was described as ‘100 acres of good land, 20 clear, and only 8 ever yet cultivated’.4 It finally sold in 1811.

by beating I never could get Ither Catterpillars of fullBoddyed Moths for the trees are so exceedingly high that it is but few you can reach with a long pole, and I have not found it answer by beating the Shrubs or underwood3

Lewin had considerable support, starting with the Duke of Portland instructing Governor John Hunter that Lewin should be allowed rations during his residence in the colony. His Grace probably did not anticipate Lewin’s stay to be quite so extended. Later, Thomas Marsham, author of Entomologia Britannica, and Alexander Macleay joined Drury in financing Lewin.

By 1808, the Lewins were in Chapel Row (Castlereagh Street), where they dealt in wine, spirits and other goods. They later moved to Brickfield Hill, on the eastern side of George Street:

By September 1800, the Lewins were settled at Parramatta, though John managed a number of voyages: to Bass Strait, to the Hunter River, and also to Tahiti when the brig Norfolk went there to get pork. When the ship ran ashore, the crew had to be rescued, arriving back in Sydney on the Porpoise in December 1802.

Mrs. Lewin begs leave to acquaint the public that the following articles may be purchased at her house, the Bunch of Grapes, at the lowest prices :—Fine gunpowder and hyson teas, loaf and moist sugar; tobacco, rice, best white soap, threads, tapes, and bobbings, sewing silk, nankeens, silks of various

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John William Lewin (1770–1819) plate no. 9 reproduced from his Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales

John William Lewin (1770–1819) plate no. 4 reproduced from his Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales

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John William Lewin (1770–1819) Lyrebird of Australia c.1810



John William Lewin (artist, 1770–1819), R. Havell & Son (engraver) A Native Chief of Baturst 1820

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have been lost at sea, because there was a Sydney edition in 1813 with different text, illustrated by pulls taken from the engravings before the plates were sent to England.

colours, silk and cotton handkerchiefs, long cloths, white and coloured cambricks, English prints, buglapores, jackets, and other wearing apparel; damask table cloths, English pasteboards, silver pencil cases and thimble, and sundry other articles. —Porter, Wine, and Spirits, &c.5

Lewin died in 1819, and not long after, his wife sold up and took their son, then aged about ten, back to England, where she arranged for the publication of new editions of his works.

John Lewin continued to pick up money where he could, taking payment for expeditions to contact Aboriginal people, and painting a coat of arms for the Supreme Court:

To some extent, Lewin had succeeded in making a name for himself. He published the first book on Australian birds, and the first copperplate illustrations and illustrated book produced in Australia. He is remembered in the name of two birds: Lewin’s honeyeater (Meliphaga lewinii) and Lewin’s rail (Lewinia pectoralis).

Miniature and Portrait Painting Mr. J. W. Lewin offers his services to the public. painting, correct Likenesses, Landscapes; and other works of Nature or of Art. N. B. Miniature five guineas each; portraits 40s. each.6

In 1810, Governor Macquarie appointed him as coroner in the town of Sydney, at a salary of £40 a year.7 By 1812, he had an evening art academy, and morning classes of two hours, at 5 shillings a session, with a 20-shilling entrance fee.8 His coroner’s pay was doubled in about 1815, going by the salary statements appearing in the press. In that year, Lewin accompanied Governor Macquarie on a trip over the new road to Bathurst with various other officials.

Lewin’s wife, Anna Maria, was also a talented artist and helped him colour some of his plates. She may even have done some of the drawings. Another couple, John and Elizabeth Gould, who arrived in Australia three decades later, also collaborated on natural history paintings. Both husbands received most of the credit.

During this expedition, Lewin produced 21 watercolours, including a painting called The Plains, Bathurst, which is now held in the Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales. He was also offered the chance to sail with Phillip Parker King on the Mermaid, but he declined, citing concern for his family in his absence. In 1818, the governor asked him to draw some of the plants collected during John Oxley’s 1817 and 1818 travels. Lewin was now well established, and he hoped to make his fortune from his books. The London editions sold well, but the consignment of the 1808 Birds must

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John William Lewin (1770–1819) Two Kangaroos in Landscape 1819

Australia Live

The Business of Nature

John Gould (1804–1881) and Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841) Mr. Gould’s plan is to note down the following day the result of the previous day’s sport, if we may so call it, in the following manner: he himself first makes outlines of the form and attitude of the birds, Mrs. Gould fills up the details with colour, while the hues of the plumage are fresh and bright, and they are then handed over to the taxidermist, who prepares the skins, and takes measurements, &c. —The Hobart Town Courier and Van Diemen’s Land Gazette, 1839 9

For bird fanciers, the name ‘John Gould’ calls to mind exquisite paintings done by a bird lover, but Gould was a hard-nosed commercial ornithologist, who some critics say could hardly draw. His crayon rendition of a scarlet-chested parrot, now Neophema splendida, says otherwise, but it hardly matters. He was a competent ornithologist who wisely gathered excellent artists around him.

his side. Already a capable bird stuffer, he was seeking kingfishers that day, but he was a bird stuffer who hoped to become a scientific naturalist. His first step was to take work as a taxidermist with the Zoological Society, which might have been a dead end, but in 1829, he married a natural history artist, Elizabeth Coxen. Together, they could turn one laboriously prepared piece of taxidermist’s art into a watercolour, a plate, and then multiple copies that were bound and sold in expensive tomes.

Being commercial means making sales, and Gould was, in effect, operating a business that satisfied the Victorian enthusiasm for nature, while at the same time seeing that the public were duly and properly informed, and even educated. He and his tribe of artists and bird collectors were just as socially and scientifically useful then as the makers of top-grade nature documentaries are today.

During the period 1831 to 1832, they completed the 20 monthly parts of A Century of Birds from the Himalaya Mountains, which made a name for the couple, but there was more to come. Between 1832 and 1837, they completed a massive work, The Birds of Europe, before setting their sights on Australia. The Birds of Australia would take John Gould almost ten years to complete, though Elizabeth died long before that, just after they returned to England.

In 1851, The Sydney Morning Herald reprinted an account from Charles Dickens’ Household Words of the then-famous Mr Gould.10 It described him as a young man in the 1820s, in a boat on the Thames near Eton. This young man was not just messing about in boats as he lurked under a willow, reading a book with a gun by

The first mention of either Gould in the Australian papers seems to have occurred in an 1836 report in The Sydney Herald about John Gould exhibiting an assortment

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Thomas Herbert Maguire (1821–1895) Portrait of John Gould, Ornithologist c.1849

Unknown artist Portrait of Mrs Elizabeth Gould

H.C. Richter (1821–1902) Myrmecobius fasciatus Gould 1845

of birds to the Zoological Society in London.11 He was clearly welcome among the scientists by then, and just in time. In January 1837, a young man named Charles Darwin appeared at the society’s meeting with some birds he had collected on the Galapagos Islands, which he thought were blackbirds, grosbeaks and finches. He gave them to Gould, so the bird expert could ‘describe’ them, which is what professional taxonomists must do before they name a new species. It means examining, measuring, studying and comparing the specimens before writing the results up in technical language. Then came the bombshell: the birds were all finches. They were the famous Darwin finches, one of the foundation stones of the theory of evolution by natural selection. It wasn’t bad work for a commercial birder.

of flowers, fruit, native plants, shrubs, birds, fishes, &c. by that celebrated and eccentric genius, “Gould” ’.12 The repository had a curious selection of items for sale: art materials, stationery, medallions of politicians, pianos and other instruments, tea caddies, snuff and cigars—and fireworks. It could be a case of the pot calling the kettle eccentric! Gould would not have minded: he was on his way, and any publicity was good. In September 1838, John, Elizabeth, 15-year-old nephew Henry Coxen, and their oldest son (another Henry) reached Hobart Town, while three other Gould children stayed behind with Elizabeth’s mother. The family were celebrated in October by The Hobart Town Courier with a friendly report of their plans to draw from living specimens, perched on local, native plants, giving the buyer ‘two works in one’.13

In June 1837, the Repository of Arts in Hobart Town offered its patrons ‘A collection of Drawings

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In all, the Goulds spent from September 1838 to April 1840 in Australia. With assistance, they took home some 800 birds, the nests and eggs of about 70 species and approximately the same number of mammals.14 Gould’s collector John Gilbert went further afield and covered Western Australia, shipping his specimens back to London, while Gould himself spent time in the scrub along the Murray River in South Australia with Charles Sturt, and later visited Kangaroo Island. After that, the Goulds made a base with Elizabeth’s brothers in the Hunter Valley, and John Gould explored the Illawarra and southern tablelands, still collecting. Natural history collecting at the time was no benign profession. Aside from John Gilbert, who died on Leichhardt’s 1845 expedition, two of Gould’s other collectors died while employed by him. Frederick Strange, who had also worked for Charles Sturt on the Murray, was killed by Aboriginal people in Queensland and Johnston Drummond was killed by Aboriginal people in the west. Against this, Gould had at least 17 collectors working for him in Australia, including John Macgillivray and Gould’s brothers-in-law, Charles and Stephen Coxen. Before they left Van Diemen’s Land, Elizabeth had become a close friend of Lady Franklin, the wife of the governor, Sir John Franklin. The Goulds’ new son, born in Van Diemen’s Land, carried away the name Franklin Tasman Gould. In other areas, Gould was careful about names, and assiduously gathered local Aboriginal names, in part because they were needed if Aboriginal collectors were to be used, either then or in later expeditions. On the topic of names, it is Elizabeth who is celebrated in the Gouldian finch, Chloebia (Poëphila) gouldiae of tropical Australia.

Ebenezer Edward Gostelow (1866–1944) The Gouldian Finch (Poëphila gouldiae) 1939

Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841) Platycercus adelaidiae Gould 1848

The Goulds reached London in August 1840, and publication of The Birds of Australia began on 1 December, with the 36th and final part appearing in 1848 (bound as seven volumes with 681 colour plates, at a cost of £115). Sadly, by August 1841, Elizabeth was dead, perhaps from a combination of the strain of work and the birth of yet another child. When John Gilbert died in 1845, the unstoppable Gould used other collectors and found other artists, and between 1845 and 1863, he produced the three-volume Mammals of Australia. In 1865, he brought out a two-volume Handbook to the Birds of Australia, and in 1869 added a supplement to The Birds of Australia. He was working on The Birds of New Guinea and the Adjacent Papuan Islands when he died in February 1881. Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841) Podargus humeralis Vig. & Horsf. 1848

H.C. Richter (1821–1902) Spheniscus undina Gould, Fairy Penguin 1848

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Australia Live

The Gentleman Painter George French Angas (1822–1886)

The Fine Arts. MR GEORGE FRENCH ANGAS begs to inform his friends and fellow-colonists that he has returned from England to follow his profession of artist, in all its branches of portrait and landscape painting, both in oil and watercolours ; and hopes that he may meet with that encouragement he anticipates amongst the admirers of art in this colony. Portraits in oils from 5 guineas upwards. Mr Angas intends to give private lessons in drawing and painting, and also purposes forming a class for instruction in his new system of learning to draw. —The South Australian Register, 27 July 1850 15 George French Angas was born in Newcastle-uponTyne in the north of England, but educated in Essex and Tavistock in Devon, in the west. Somewhere along the way, he picked up a love of natural history, but his father would have none of it, putting him instead into an office in London. It is possible that his father may have relented somewhat, hoping the boy would snap out of it—but the boy didn’t.

concentrated on his paintings, spending six months at a time in South Australia and New Zealand, before returning to Adelaide for a further six months. He exhibited his paintings in Sydney’s Royal Hotel (1 shilling for adults, children half-price): We candidly acknowledge we received the very favourable criticism of our South Australian neighbours, on Mr. Angus’s paintings cum grano salis; but now that we have been enabled to judge for ourselves, we are fully prepared to go all lengths with them in their praises. We have not leisure at present to enter into particulars. We can only say that the exhibition is most varied and interesting.16

Angas studied under a natural history artist, Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins, and then toured the Mediterranean. Then in 1842, aged 20, he published A Ramble in Malta and Sicily in the Autumn of 1841, illustrated with his lithographs, drawn on stone.

One of Angas’s goals was to record a way of life that was passing. He painted people going about their everyday lives, as well as landscapes and items of natural history. The natural history bug had not been dismissed entirely.

In 1836, his wealthy father, George Fife Angas, the head of coach-building and shipping businesses, was one of the founders of the South Australian Company, a colonising venture that eventually led to the establishment of the colony of South Australia. By the 1840s, he was the largest landowner in South Australia.

After a tour of New South Wales, Angas headed for England, where he again exhibited his paintings. This was to drum up business for two planned folios, and 1847 saw not two, but three delightful works published in London. These were South Australia Illustrated (60 lithographs, all hand-coloured), The New Zealanders

Angas senior sent for his sons, who arrived in January 1844. While younger brother John threw himself into managing the properties, George

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Charles Baugniet (1814–1886) George French Angas 1848

William Wing (active 1844–1868) South Australian Lepidoptera 1847

Illustrated, and the two-volume Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand. Angas’s travel writing career was thriving, in part because Prince Albert was quite taken with his talent at both writing and illustration, and having royal approval is second only to having royal blood. Perhaps his father began to look more kindly on his son’s career.

They settled briefly in Adelaide, but the gold strikes of 1851 drew Angas to the diggings near Bathurst. By the end of that year, he published Six Views of the Gold Field of Ophir for the local market and another volume of lithographs in London: We have to acknowledge the receipt of a copy of ‘Six Views of the Gold-Field of Ophir, by George French Angas,’ published by Messrs. Woolcott and Clarke, of Sydney. These views give an excellent idea of the rough pleasures of gold-digging, and of the scenery about Summerhill Creek, and are the best colonial lithographs of landscapes we have seen … the whole series are highly creditable to the state of art in a young community.18

In 1849, Angas travelled to South Africa, where he completed another folio, The Kafirs Illustrated. That same year saw the publication of Description of the Barossa Range. The text was written by ‘Agricola’, probably Angas’s brother, John Howard Angas, and Angas provided six hand-coloured lithographic plates. Things were going well for the Angas family. The drought had broken, the boys’ father had settled at Angaston in South Australia, and the family’s South Australian holdings were paying nicely. Now, for the first time, Angas the naturalist was allowed to come to the fore. He accepted the post of naturalist to the Turko-Persian Boundary Commission, but caught a fever in Turkey and retreated to England. In 1849, he married an Irish girl, Alicia Mary Moran, who travelled with him to Australia the following year:

James William Giles (1801–1870) Bethany, a Village of German Settlers at the Foot of the Barossa Hills 1847

The Fine Arts. MR GEORGE FRENCH ANGAS begs to inform his friends and fellow-colonists that he has returned from England to follow his profession of artist, in all its branches of portrait and landscape painting, both in oil and water-colours; and hopes that he may meet with that encouragement he anticipates amongst the admirers of art in this colony. Portraits in oils from 5 guineas upwards. Mr Angas intends to give private lessons in drawing and painting, and also purposes forming a class for instruction in his new system of learning to draw. For terms, &c, apply to MR ANGAS, South-terrace, near St John’s Church. Adelaide, July 22nd, 1850.17

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George French Angas (1822–1886) The Punt at Echuca 1877

James William Giles (1801–1870) Sea Mouth of the Murray 1847

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George French Angas (1822–1886) Mallee Scrub, & Leipoa Mound 1877

James William Giles (1801–1870) Scene on the Coorung near Lake Albert, with the Halmaturus greyii, a New Species of Kangaroo

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While lucky diggers might buy an expensive volume of lithographs to take home with their lovely gold, it was a limited market. Perhaps, too, the natural history bug was starting to bite harder again. Between 1853 and 1860, Angas was secretary to the Australian Museum in Sydney. Most accounts have him classifying and arranging the first public collection of Australian specimens, but a scan of the press reveals that the office work eschewed in his youth had caught up with him at last:

George French Angas (1822–1886) Drawing of One Wing and Body of a Butterfly c.1854

AUSTRALIAN MUSEUM.—Tenders are required for the construction of Cabinets and Glass Cases in the hall of the Museum. Plans and specifications may be seen on application at the Sydney Royal Mint. All tenders to be sent in before 11 o’clock, a.m., on SATURDAY, January 5th, 1856, addressed to the Trustees of the Australian Museum, and marked, ‘Tender for Cases’ on the cover. By order of the Trustees. GEORGE FRENCH ANGAS, Secretary. Sydney, December 21.19

Angas then spent three years from 1860 to 1863, living as a gentleman at Angaston, before returning to London and his love of conchology. He was a member of the Zoological Society and also the Linnean Society. He wrote many papers and some mediocre poetry, spending his winters abroad, on account of ill health. After his death, some Australian newspapers claimed that Angas had been disinherited by his father, even though he clearly had enough money available for a comfortable life. In reality, his father had left him £1,000 a year, and had supported him financially throughout his life.20

George French Angas (1822–1886) Butterfly Studies c.1840

It would be a shame, though, not to consider his wombat. This was not the common or garden wombat, but the hairy-nosed variety, and almost certainly the southern species, Lasiorhinus latifrons, as opposed to

the northern hairy-nosed wombat, Lasiorhinus krefftii. This can be deduced from his reference to the animal as ‘Phascolomys Latifrons’. In those days, the specific was often capitalised, but it was still permanent, even when the genus was later adjusted.

Aside from his scientific skills, Angas was an early student of Aboriginal rock engravings around Sydney, which he studied with friend and fellow artist Conrad Martens. He also did illustrations for John Forrest’s Explorations in Australia, based on sketches provided by Forrest.

The wombat in question was on display in Adelaide’s Botanic Garden, where Angas both drew and wrote a description of the animal. He forwarded his drawings and narrative to the Royal Zoological Society of London, of which he was a corresponding member. The following account is abridged:

He may not have followed in his father’s footsteps, but George French Angas managed to pursue a successful career based on his passion for both natural history and art.

Mr. Angas says—‘The existence of a second species of Phascolomys on the Australian continent was established some years ago by Professor Owen, from a skull sent to England from South Australia, and named by him Phascolomys Latifrons (see ‘Proceedings of the Zoological Society’ for 1845).

Unknown artist Yattagolinga, Oct. 5, 1850

Mr G. B. Waterhouse, in his excellent work on the Marsupialia, says, ‘Of the broad-fronted wombat, all that is known is a skull sent from South Australia to Professor Owen. This skull presents so many marked differences when compared with that of the Phascolomys wombat, that no doubt can be entertained of the existence of two distinct species of wombats.’ I have lately had the opportunity of examining a full grown male example of the broad-fronted wombat, now in the Botanical Gardens in Adelaide, and of comparing it with two adult specimens (male and female) of the Tasmanian wombat which, fortunately enough, were being exhibited at the time in Adelaide. The differences between the two species were so evident, that I was induced to make a careful drawing of P. latifrons, which, together with my observations and measurements of both animals, I have much pleasure in laying before the Society.21

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Australia Live

The Mammalian Egg’s Tale William Hay Caldwell (1859–1941)

And it is surely time to notice the threepenny braggadocio of caste … which makes a party of resourceful bushmen stand helpless in the presence of flood or fire, till marshalled by some hero of the croquet lawn. —Joseph Furphy, 1903 22

In 1884, science was changing fast: with a suite of emerging independent disciplines, formerly lumped under the term ‘natural history’. In Germany, Robert Koch announced the isolation of the bacillus that caused cholera, while in France, Louis Pasteur was working on a rabies vaccine.

Some Australians were already talking about becoming a nation, but there was still more than a hint of cultural cringe. Britain was ‘home’, and Australians looked towards ‘home’ for their academics, scientists, leadership and guidance, but things were changing. The Bulletin had appeared in 1882, and its Australian stance found favour enough for it to stay afloat.

In Britain, Lord Rayleigh was replaced by J.J. Thomson in the chair of physics in Cambridge, where Thomson would discover the electron, T.H. Huxley— Darwin’s main supporter—was president of the Royal Society, and hydrogen had been solidified in Poland by Zygmunt Wróblewski. Most of modern science was in place, or in the works. However, nobody had satisfactorily solved the hot topic among naturalists— how Australia’s marsupials and monotremes reproduced—but even that was about to be tackled.

It was a time of ferment: the American journal Science had started publication in 1880, Charles Darwin had died in 1882, Sir Richard Owen had retired in 1883, and Australia was in the news for its curious creatures. The age of the independent Australian naturalist was almost here—but the paternal influence of Europe was not yet entirely distant. There was one last burst of science to be carried out by the ‘hero of the croquet lawn’, fresh-faced and cultivated, ready to show the dull-witted colonials how it should be done.

As Australian settlement approached its centenary, Australia had one of the highest living standards in the world. It was a prosperous place, powered by the profits of gold, with the major centres linked by railways, steamships and telegraphs. Australia’s exports were booming.

The emergence of science as a professional field of endeavour meant that a rigorous scientific approach was required to solve questions of science. This created a sometimes pompous hierarchy of disbelief or scepticism: Aboriginal testimony was doubted by

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George Raper (1769–1796) Glossy Black Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus lathami) with Macrozamia species c.1788

bushmen who were doubted by Australia-based scientists who were doubted by European scientists. Where before, amateurs were well regarded as natural historians, their credentials, too, were open to question. Some Australians might have asserted for 70 years that monotremes (the platypus and echidna) laid eggs, but no British scientist had studied and approved what other Australians still dismissed as a bush yarn, such as the bunyip. So, imagine Australians’ excitement when they heard that a clever Briton had come to sort out the issue:

Unknown artist A Kangaroo Hunt

MR. WILLIAM HAY CALDWELL, B.A. and Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, has recently arrived in Sydney, with the object of studying the fauna peculiar to Australia. Mr. Caldwell was a pupil of the late Professor Balfour, of Cambridge, and during the last year has been lecturing on Animal Morphology in the University of Cambridge. He has resigned his post of Demonstrator of Zoology in that University, in order to be free to remain in Australia as long as may be necessary for the work he has laid out for himself here; but he will still retain his connection with Cambridge as Balfour Student in Biology.23

The article went on to explain that Caldwell’s travel and research would be funded, and that he was keen to investigate ‘the reproduction and early stages of the monotremes, marsupials and the Queensland fish ceratodus’. Any one of these puzzles would have been enough for most scientists, but he planned to tackle all three, and oddly enough he shed light on them all.

Walter G. Mason (1820–1866) The Echidna, or Porcupine Ant Eater 1857

The assistance of country people was sought to help identify places where the platypus or echidna abounded. No details were offered of Caldwell’s plan, which was to slaughter monotremes, discard the males, dissect the females, and, if unsuccessful, go out and slaughter some more. It was brutal and bloody, but ultimately effective. As Caldwell later wrote to his Australian connection, Professor Liversidge: ‘I have more than 30 blacks with

The Times repeated the error on 18 September, and never corrected it, but no scientist would have been excited if Caldwell had shown the monotremes to bear their young alive, which is what ‘viviparous’ means. Nobody would have cared about a ‘mesoblastic’ ovum because the term is meaningless. Australian newspapers repeated the garbled version on the Friday, but by Saturday, the record was being set straight:

me now; they have found over 600 Echidna in the last six weeks’.24 Most Australian students of zoology know of Caldwell’s famous but masterfully frugal telegram, which trumpeted his success in four words: ‘monotremes oviparous, ovum meroblastic’. In plain English, this meant monotremes laid eggs like those of reptiles, not those of mammals. To the layman, the monotremes were now tagged as ‘missing links’.

Professor Mosley thinks the discovery indicates the descent of man from a reptilian form of life. A fuller communication from Mr. Caldwell on the subject will be looked for with great interest. The message would have been more interesting if it had been somewhat more explicit. It will be seen by our Adelaide telegrams that Dr. Haacke thinks that probably ‘oviparous’ was meant, as so far as regards the echidna the accepted theory has always been that it was viviparous.26

Caldwell actually sent his telegram to Professor Liversidge of the University of Sydney, who knew what to do. Liversidge sent the news to Montreal in Canada, which might seem an odd choice, but in 1884, the British Association for the Advancement of Science was meeting outside of Britain, and the cream of British Empire scientists were gathered at the first ‘colonial meeting’. By all accounts, those who understood the gnomic message erupted with excitement. It wasn’t just the egg-laying part, it was also the meroblastic ovum. Together, these offered evidence of an evolutionary link between reptiles and mammals.

On the following Monday, The Sydney Morning Herald said the excitement in Montreal made it clear that Caldwell’s message had reached Canada correctly.27 All the same, quite a few people were unsurprised, because the egg itself wasn’t news (all animals reproduce via eggs), but egg-laying was.28 In Britain, anatomist Everard Home had wondered in the early 1800s if the platypus might lay eggs. Sir John Jamison, who had travelled to Bathurst in 1815 in Governor Macquarie’s party with John Lewin, suggested that monotremes laid eggs in 1817.29 It wasn’t a new idea, at all.

Back in Sydney, Liversidge kept a polite silence. In Montreal, a correspondent cabled the news to The Times, and then a correspondent in London cabled a report to Sydney. In the past, most people either didn’t know, or have been too polite to say, that The Times made a mess of it, but the message was garbled there:

When The Sydney Morning Herald suggested on the Monday after Caldwell’s news that George Bennett had long believed that the platypus was viviparous, the doctor wrote in suggesting that he would not get excited yet about the discovery because there was still the possibility that the eggs hatched before they left the body: in other words, Bennett accepted eggs, but not the laying of them, and that issue was now resolved. Bennett had been wrong:

Section D: Biology: The President, Professor Moseley, read a telegram from Professor Liversidge, of Sydney, New South Wales, stating that Mr. Caldwell finds the Monotremes to be viviparous with mesoblastic ovum. Professor Moseley said that this contained the most important scientific news that had been communicated to the present meeting of the Association.25

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George Raper (1769–1796) Noisy Miner (Manorina melanocephala) c.1788

Wilhelm Haacke was director of the South Australian Museum in Adelaide, and while his contribution was less complete, it was nonetheless a contribution, and it was definitely a first:

From my discovery of ova in the uterus of the platypus in 1832, and published in 1834, and having very recently found ova in similar stage of development in the uterus of the echidna, I, with others, concluded that these animals would eventually be proved to be ova-viviparous, that is, when the egg is hatched within the body, and the young one is excluded alive; and it is more than probable that the rupture of the egg takes place during parturition, which is the case in some fishes and reptiles as sharks and vipers.30

Dr. Haacke laid a number of specimens on the table, including an egg found in the pouch of a female echidna, in support of the theory that the echidna, although a milk-giving animal, lays eggs, which are hatched in the pouch.34

The medical and scientific men of Melbourne were quick to reply, consciously or otherwise revealing their training in their language and technical arguments.31 To the north, a medical man, Dr Felix P. Bartlett, regretted a missed opportunity to win fame:

There was also a diversity of strongly held views when it came to marsupial reproduction. Some even claimed that the babies began as warts on the teat and grew. It quickly became a classic sterling–currency clash, with the largely British-trained scientists and medical men referring to Richard Owen’s work or Darwin’s work and other evidence.

On August 16th last I shot a female platypus in the Lachlan, near Cowra, and, on dissecting it, found in the right oviduct two small eggs, the large being about the size of a small pea, and the second a trifle smaller, weighing, I should say, about four and three grains respectively. They were spherical in shape, of a pale straw colour, soft, and opaque. In structure, each consisted of a thin membranous covering, containing the yolk, a pale yellow, oily substance of creamy consistence. The left oviduct was empty. These facts may be of interest now that this old and much-discussed question is again receiving attention. I am, &c., FELIX P. BARTLETT, L.R.C.P., Lond., M.R.C.S. Cowra, Sept. 9.32

The key point is that the internal organ–arrangement in a female marsupial makes it impossible for her to give birth to young of any real size. The foetus usually develops for less than a fortnight in the uterus before it is born. A fertilised ovum may be held in suspension: the limitation is on the degree of development in the uterus, not the length of stay. The blind foetus hauls itself up from the vagina to the pouch, with a bit of help from the mother who licks her fur to mark a path. Once in the pouch, it clamps on a teat, and to the casual observer, appears to be part of it, explaining why most bushmen claimed that the young marsupials all began as buds on the end of their mothers’ teats. An old colonist and bush naturalist, Peter Beveridge, had a view about marsupials:

But if Dr Bartlett missed out, spare a thought for Dr Haacke, who was quoted in The Sydney Morning Herald the morning after Caldwell’s telegram was reported. In reporting Dr Haacke’s comments, nobody mentioned that he had announced and shown monotreme eggs on the evening of 4 September, in Adelaide. Caldwell’s telegram was read out on the morning of the 4th in Montreal, but allowing for time zones. Dr Haacke was first by some hours, when he displayed an echidna egg from Kangaroo Island.33

The young of the marsupial, on the other hand, grows on the point of the nipple, at first it is like a globule of gum that has exuded from the lacteal duct, where it grows until in the fulness of days it assumes form and

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shape, gradually acquiring fur. Just before it is quite covered with fur it drops off the teat for the first time. Of course, the nipple being in a deep pouch, the embryo does not fall to the ground when it drops of, it merely falls to the bottom of the pouch, when it coils itself up until it is hungry, when nature teaches it to seize again the teat by which it has been upheld and nourished heretofore.35

An anonymous correspondent, writing as ‘Darwinian’, dismissed Beveridge’s gummy globule as without precedent and without evidence.36 There were certain accepted theories of descent, and this just made no sense. Printed underneath Darwinian’s letter was another, written by John Bodkin (shown incorrectly as Boakin in the paper), which also poured scorn on Beveridge’s views, and further asked if Beveridge could provide some evidence. The bushmen, however, cared little for evidence or logic. They had seen things, and that ought to be enough for Bodkin, ‘Darwinian’, Thomas Shearman Ralph, MRCS37 and their ilk, according to ‘Old Colonist of Sixty Years’,38 William Murrell39 (whose qualification was that he had shot many kangaroos), and H.N. Wollaston40 (who knew the facts because he had eaten many kangaroos). On the other hand, a Charles D. Barber explained that the birth of a kangaroo had never been seen because the doe normally went into a secluded place, but he claimed to have come close to witnessing the event.41 John Bodkin had had enough. He began by stating that in a free country a man could hold whatever opinion he wished, but the bushmen were, nonetheless, still wrong:

George Raper (1769–1796) Fringe Lily (Thysanotus tuberosus) c.1788

In conclusion, I may point out that the several facts of having shot kangaroos in the Otway ranges, or of having slaughtered them by dozens in West Australia, or having fed dogs on kangaroos, or of having been born in the country, though no doubt very estimable facts in themselves constitute no proof that the young

of an air bladder When one mud hole is dried up, then, instead of expiring like a common fish, the ceratodus travels across land in order to find another …

marsupial grows on the nipple of its dam or ‘exudes from her lacteal duct.’ As well might a man argue that kangaroos increase in number by spontaneous fission, and that he knew it was so because he had often eaten kangaroo-tail soup. Yours, &c., JOHN BODKIN The George Hotel, St. Kilda, Sept. 18.42

In our early days the Royal Society of Victoria (then in the embryo of a Philosophical Association) was brought to the edge of disruption by the perils of nomenclature. After a fierce contention, one philosopher had to fly the place, retiring in disgrace to India …

The Argus called Bodkin’s letter sarcastic, but in the end, the science was clear.43 This was roughly the line Caldwell took, when he described his work to the Royal Society of New South Wales in December. The meeting was reported in The Sydney Morning Herald:

The first finder of the ceratodus must have also exercised his wits. After much cogitation, doubtless, he hit upon the right idea, and named the new creature after Mr WM. FORSTER, one of the most prominent politicians of his time. Nothing personal would be intended, and yet who does not recognise many politicians in the description of ‘a mud fish, who, when one mud hole is dried up, finds another.’ 47

Within the last few weeks he had received several letters from people denying that the platypus had an egg, and they wanted him to argue about it. That was impossible. He stated a fact; it was possible to disbelieve it; but, being a fact, it could not be argued. The interpretation of these facts he was not prepared to add, as he had come there with the simple intention of exhibiting a few specimens, and not with the intention of entering into any theoretical consideration derived from these facts.44

Krefft was honouring Forster, who had insisted that the fish was special. In the end, Forster attained a small degree of immortality, and Krefft’s name was made. Augustus Earle (1793–1838) Emu, New South Wales, 1827

Still, Krefft’s mudfish, the ceratodus, remained undiscussed. The peculiar fish just wasn’t newsworthy enough, but occasionally it peeped from the columns of the newspaper. In The Argus, ‘Darwinian’ tried, but the bait was left alone.45 Caldwell’s work on the fish merited a few lines in The Sydney Morning Herald,46 but it fell to The Argus to engage in some really creative journalism, tying together the chestnut about ceratodus walking across country and the scandal of Blandowski’s fish, a quarter of a century earlier. They inferred that Krefft might have been playing a similar game, and implying (incorrectly) that Caldwell had reported seeing one walking across country: The Ceratodus Forsteri is, we learn, a mud fish, but it can boast with a just pride of high connexions, for it claims alliance with the reptile tribe It has lungs instead

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So what did our clever Scot gain from all his efforts? When he died in 1941, the abstract of his obituary made no mention of his Australian work at all. By rights, he should have had a marvellous career in front of him. It turned out to be a curious tale.

Drayson’s after-note to the novel had said that Caldwell and his brother inherited an uncle’s paper mill, but it seems that Margaret Watt was an heiress, the daughter of a rich Sydney merchant (on his death, John Watt left an estate of some £250,000)—and Caldwell’s brother married her sister. It was the father-in-law who set them up with a paper mill in Scotland. To be fair to Drayson, the error was not his, but that of the writer of Caldwell’s obituary in Nature.50

Just as the fuss over monotreme and marsupial reproduction died away in the pages of The Argus, the newspaper published an editorial that was either curiously prophetic, or remarkably well informed:

This, it seems, is why I had trouble finding any published research by him after a flurry of writing-up of his Australian research. He remained a fellow of Caius College, so he still had the right connections, while having what was needed to live a pleasant life, indulging selected curiosities and temporary obsessions. Caldwell became a gentleman inventor.

Australia has been visited in turn by prince, peer, and peasant, but it may be said that no one has made a greater stir in the community than Mr. W. H. CALDWELL, the travelling bachelor with a commission from Cambridge. Not even an unmarried cricketer with a title has attracted more attention. As if aware of the dangers of his position, our visitor has shrunk from society. The platypus is to be picked up on the Yarra, and the echidna in the adjacent ranges, but Mr. CALDWELL has wisely planted himself in the Queensland bush remote from man, and from woman also.48

He had a patent on a machine for making thin (biological) sections before he was married, and he continued taking out patents in both the United States and Britain for various inventions, involving things as basic as paper-making and as unexpected as colour photography, diesel engines, ‘Torbet Lactic Oats’, and more. In the 1930s, he spent time at Naples investigating sharks.

The young scholar appears to have slipped out of Sydney at the end of 1884, but he would be back quietly, some two years later, as this January 1887 notice indicates: CALDWELL-WATT.—January 27, at All Saints, Woollahra, by the Rev. H. Wallace Mort, William Hay Caldwell, M.A., Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, to Margaret Gilchrist, oldest daughter of the Hon. John B. Watt, of Sydney.49

Some readers might wonder what became of the 1,300 pickled echidnas that Caldwell took back. Part of the answer is revealed in a Science article, which details news of a Royal Society soirée in London at which Caldwell described the work he was doing, prior to returning to Australia to be married:

Novelist and biologist Nick Drayson has written a delightful novel based on the Caldwell story, and while trying to track him down, I found a radio talk where he mentioned being contacted by the great-grandson of the scientist. Since I couldn’t locate Drayson, I went hunting for the relative, and found him. David Shaw Stewart was good enough to quiz his father and other family members on my behalf.

He will also be able to supply Prof. W. K. Parker with the specimens necessary for investigating the development of the skull in Ceratodus, Echidna, and many marsupials.51

Perhaps, then, all those many animals did not die entirely in vain.

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George Raper (1769–1796) Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike (Coracina novaehollandiae) c.1788

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‘By laying down a web of knowledge about Australia’s plants and animals, the naturalists ensured that other curious minds could be encouraged’

On balance, the efforts of the many curious minds who dabbled in Australian natural history weren’t in vain. Over two centuries, in many ways, they contributed, sometimes inadvertently, to a growing pride in being Australian. Their work changed our minds forever. They helped us understand our land and its curious animals. They contributed to understandings that changed the world—evolution and ecology, for example. Today, as the natural world dwindles, those contributions are perhaps more relevant than ever.

asked if platypus skins were worth much, and was told that they brought a good price, but only because they were rare. The same report dismissed a claim from farmers that the protection then given to echidnas ought to be lifted, because ‘porcupines were destructive to wire fences’. Would we hear claims like that today?

A cunning old conservationist told me, many years ago, that environmental concern has three branches: knowing about the issue, caring about the issue and taking action on the issue. In those élite circles where educational jargon and foreign phrases are de rigueur, this means the cognitive, affective and psychomotor domains, but knowing, caring and doing is easier to remember.

New generations grew up reading Dorothy Wall’s Blinky Bill; Leslie Rees’ Gecko: The lizard who lost his tail, Shy the Platypus and The Story of Aroora, the Red Kangaroo; or May Gibbs’ Snugglepot and Cuddlepie, and other tales we now regard as classics. Those stories have a basis in the work undertaken by naturalists, curious to know the truth.

The key, my mentor suggested, was to achieve any two of these, because then the third would follow. By laying down a web of knowledge about Australia’s plants and animals, the naturalists ensured that other curious minds could be encouraged, informed and filled, but change would always be slow.

We simply wouldn’t know and care as much about our own natural history if Australia had not been subjected to a flood of imported curious minds as, eventually, it began to grow its own.

The Hobart Mercury reported in September 1933 that people were claiming that platypus were killing trout in the Derwent River.52 A member of the Fauna Board

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Acknowledgements

Susan Hall at the National Library of Australia has again proved to be a source of enthusiasm and encouragement. When I first suggested this idea tentatively to her, she leapt on it. Christine Macinnis, my strong right hand and conscience, tried hard to cut down on my self-indulgences. Those three are very much a part of this project, but I had other help as well.

Bill Stapp taught me in 1972 about the need to get points on the board in two of the three domains. Kay Williams pointed me to Macquarie Law School and their lovely collection of old court cases (including the Lewin case), all set out and searchable at www.law.mq.edu.au/scnsw/. My hearty thanks to the University of Sydney’s Fisher Library and the Badham Library branch, the State Library of New South Wales and its subset the Mitchell Library.

Another National Library boon came in the form of editors Susan Shortridge and Emma Gregory, and author Penny Olsen, who read the script closely and offered good advice and cogent queries that made me reconsider most of my sins of omission and commission. Being at heart a recalcitrant scrivener, I saved a few of my more savoury excesses. I am fairly sure that any remaining blemishes may be sheeted home to my wilfulness. Regina Ganter shared some insights into Amalie Dietrich with me, and pointed me to useful sources that I had missed.

Many, many hoorays for the Macleay Museum and the Australian Museum. I need hardly point out the debt of gratitude that I owe to the National Library of Australia’s Trove collection of historic newspapers. Only somebody who has undergone the vile headaches caused by intensive use of microfilm reels could possibly understand what a present to the nation Trove is.

Dave Himsley taught me, in the 1950s, to notice the unexpected in the bush, and to investigate it.

And last of all, my thanks to all those curious minds who discovered, defined, dissected and described the nature of Australia. They did so long after the original inhabitants had come to understand it, but the curious minds created records that were accessible to people of my culture, and made my whole life much richer.

Richard Neville, the current Mitchell Librarian at the State Library of New South Wales, made me look at John Lewin in new ways after I heard him talking about his researches. Peter Stanbury, then curator of the Macleay Museum, showed me and informed me about the Hawkesbury Cyclops.

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George French Angas (1822–1886) Opening of the Free Chapel at Angaston, German Pass, Feby. 28th, 1844 1849

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Chapter Endnotes

Introduction: Curious Minds

16. A.S. George, ‘A Tercentenary’, Australian Systematic Botany Society Newsletter, vol. 89, 1996, pp. 20–21.

1. Barron Field (ed.), Geographical Memoirs on New South Wales by Various Hands. London: John Murray, 1825, p. viii.

17. Edward Duyker, Citizen Labillardière: A naturalist’s life in revolution and exploration (1755–1834). Sydney: The Miegunyah Press, 2004, p. 133.

2. ‘Bushcraft’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 September 1851, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12930282.

18. Stephen D. Hopper, ‘South-western Australia, Cinderella of the World’s Temperate Floristic Regions 1’, Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, vol. 20, issue 2, pp. 115–116.

3. ibid.

Australian Nature Discovered

19. Edward Duyker and Maryse Duyker (eds), Bruny D’Entrecasteaux Voyage to Australia and the Pacific 1791–93. Carlton South: Melbourne University Press, 2001, p. 121, quoted by Hopper.

4. Watkin Tench, A Complete Account of the Settlement at Port Jackson. London: Sold by G. Nicol and J. Sewell, 1793, p. 236; written about 28 December 1790.

20. H  is published accounts appeared in the two-volume Novae Hollandiae Plantarum Specimen. Curiously, the specimens themselves are now in the Museum of Natural History in Florence. They had been bought by an Englishman, Philip Barker Webb, who bequeathed the lot to the Grand Duke, Leopold II of Tuscany!

5. J.C. Beaglehole (ed.), The Endeavour Journal of Joseph Banks, 2nd edn, vol. 2. Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1963, pp. 111–112. 6. William Dampier, A New Voyage around the World, vol. 1. London: James Knapton, 1699, pp. 84–85. 7. William Dampier, A Voyage to New Holland , &c., in the Year 1699. London: The Argonaut Press, 1939 p. 96.

21. S tephen Hopper, ‘South-western Australia, Cinderella of the World’s Temperate Floristic Regions 2’, Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, vol. 21, issue 2, pp. 136–137.

8. ibid., p. 86. 10. ibid., p. lxix.

22. C  hristine Cornell (trans.), The Journal of Post Captain Nicolas Baudin. Adelaide: Friends of the State Library of South Australia, 2004, pp. 21–22.

11. Karl Popper, The Logic of Scientific Discovery. London: Hutchinson, 1959, p. 27.

23. L  éon Guérin, Histoire Maritime de France, vol. 6. Paris: Dufour et Mulat, 1851, pp. 278–279.

12. ‘The Discovery of the Swan River’, The West Australian, 27 March 1897, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/3109722.

24. G  overnor Philip Gidley King to Sir Joseph Banks, Sydney, 9 May 1803, Historical Records of New South Wales (hereafter HRNSW), vol. 5, p. 134.

9. ibid., p. 87.

13. ibid.

25. ibid.

14. The identification of Torst as the victim, from Stephen Hopper, ‘South-western Australia, Cinderella of the World’s Temperate Floristic Regions 1’, Curtis’s Botanical Magazine, vol. 20, issue 2, 2003, p. 103. 15. ‘The Discovery of the Swan River’, The West Australian, 27 March 1897, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/3109722.

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Putting Australian Nature on the Map 1

17 Erasmus Darwin, ‘Visit of Hope to Sydney-Cove, near BotanyBay’, in Arthur Phillip, The Voyage of Governor Phillip to Botany Bay. London: John Stockdale, 1789, p. v.

C  harles Darwin to J.S. Henslow, Sydney, January 1836, Darwin Correspondence Project, darwinproject.ac.uk/entry-295.

18 Projected Departures, The Sydney Monitor, 13 January 1836, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32150501.

2 Watkin Tench, A Complete Account of the Settlement at Port Jackson. London: Sold by G. Nicol and J. Sewell, 1793, p. 107. Written about 28 December 1790. 3

4

19 News report, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 14 January 1836, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/2202237/501749.

J ames Cook, A Voyage towards the South Pole, vol. 2. Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia, 1970. First published London: W. Strahan and T. Cadell, 1777.

20 News report, The Sydney Herald, Monday, 25 January 1836, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12853774.

J oseph Banks to Undersecretary King, 15 May 1798, in HRNSW, vol. 3, pp. 382–383.

21 Charles Darwin to Captain Phillip Parker King, Bathurst, 21 January 1836, Darwin Correspondence Project, darwinproject. ac.uk/entry-293, viewed 24 December 2010.

5 Journal entry for 5 May 1770, in James Cook, Captain Cook’s Journal during the First Voyage round the World. Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia, 1968.

22 Projected Departures, The Sydney Monitor, 30 January 1836, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32150645.

6 J.C. Beaglehole (ed.), The Endeavour Journal of Joseph Banks, 2nd edn, vol. 2. Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1963, p. 62.

23 News report, Sydney Gazette, 23 August 1836, p. 3, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/2206164. 24 ‘Geology: South America’, The Colonist, 23 February 1837, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/31719109.

7 J.C. Beaglehole (ed.), The Endeavour Journal of Joseph Banks, 2nd edn, vol. 1. Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1963, p. 168.

25 ‘Latest English News’, The Sydney Herald, 31 December 1837, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/28653339.

8 J.C. Beaglehole (ed.), The Endeavour Journal of Joseph Banks, 2nd edn, vol. 1. Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1963, p. 154.

26 F.W. Nicholas and J.M. Nicholas, Charles Darwin in Australia. Port Melbourne, Vic.: Cambridge University Press, 2002, p. 77.

9 J.C. Beaglehole (ed.), The Endeavour Journal of Joseph Banks, 2nd edn, vol. 1. Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1963, p. 176.

27 Author’s Notes, writing of the early Dutch explorers, in Ernest Giles, Australia Twice Traversed: The romance of exploration. London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle & Rivington, 1889.

10 Journal entry for 4 August 1770, in James Cook, Captain Cook’s Journal during the First Voyage round the World. Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia, 1968.

28 Address by J.H. Maiden, 2 July 1907, The Sydney Morning Herald, 3 July 1907, p. 13, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/14838071.

11 Journal entry for 24 June 1770, in James Cook, Captain Cook’s Journal during the First Voyage round the World. Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia, 1968.

29 ‘Instructions to Scientific Explorers’, 29 April 1801, in HRNSW, vol. 4, p. 351. 30 Robert Brown to Sir Joseph Banks, 6 August 1803, in HRNSW, vol. 5, p. 182.

12 Journal entry for 14 July 1770, in James Cook, Captain Cook’s Journal during the First Voyage round the World. Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia, 1968.

31 Amalie Dietrich, Mackay, 3 January 1867, in Ray Sumner, A Woman in the Wilderness: The story of Amalie Dietrich in Australia. Kensington, Australia: New South Wales University Press, 1993, p. 125.

13 J.C. Beaglehole (ed.), The Endeavour Journal of Joseph Banks, 2nd edn, vol. 2. Sydney: Trustees of the Public Library of New South Wales, 1963, p. 94.

32 Ludwig Koch, Die Arachniden Australiens nach der Natur, vol. 1. Nurnberg: Bauer & Raspe, 1871–1892, p. viii (Foreword).

14 Masthead quotation used more than 60 times in 1835 by The Sydney Monitor. It is a misquote from Erasmus Darwin’s The Botanic Garden, The Loves of the Plants, Canto III, lines 455– 456.

33 Ray Sumner, A Woman in the Wilderness: The story of Amalie Dietrich in Australia. Kensington, NSW: UNSW Press, 1993. 34 J.C. Godeffroy and Son to Frau Dietrich, Hamburg, 20 January 1865, in Charitas Bischoff, The Hard Road: The life story of Amalie Dietrich, naturalist, 1821–1891. London: Martin Hopkinson, 1931, p. 260.

15 Francis Darwin (ed.), The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, vol. 1. London: John Murray, 1887, p. 21. 16 Darwin, The Sydney Monitor, 21 March 1835, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32148530/4252531.

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35 H. Ling Roth, The Discovery and Settlement of Port Mackay, Queensland. Halifax, England: F. King and Sons, 1908, p. 81.

12. Lord Advocate Hay Campbell to Undersecretary of the Home Office Evan Nepean, c.1789, quoted by George Mackaness in his introduction to Thomas Watling’s Letters from an Exile at Botany Bay to His Aunt in Dumfries, p. 6.

36 See The Hobart Town Courier, 26 November 1831, p. 2, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/4201201.

13. G.B. Barton, History of New South Wales from the Records. Sydney: Charles Potter, Government Printer, 1889, p. 346.

37 ‘Colonel Hanson’s Pamphlet’, Perth Gazette and Western Australian Journal, 12 January 1833, p. 7, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/ del/article/642267.

14. ibid., p. 62.

38 ‘Pioneers at Augusta’, The West Australian, 1 September 1928, p. 13, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32219689.

15. ibid., p. 43. 16. Dated 1 December 1846. Quoted in John Macgillivray, Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, Commanded by the Late Captain Owen Stanley during the Years 1846–1850 (2 vols). London: T. & W. Boone, 1852, vol. 1, p. 4.

39 A.B., ‘A Waterloo Veteran’, The West Australian, 28 September 1929, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32315395. 40 Hugh Kalyptus, ‘Old Time Memories’, Western Mail, 12 August 1920, p. 34, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/37469165.

17. As was common in the 1840s, he appears with three spellings: M’Gillivray, Macgillivray and MacGillivray. As one whose family were also rendered in various ways, I have elected to use that spelling which was most favoured among educated Scots of that period. That it happens to be the formulation I use is merely happenstance.

Australia Expanded 1. Thomas Watling, Letters from an Exile at Botany-Bay to His Aunt in Dumfries. Dubbo: Review Publications, 1979, p. 23. 2. George Bennett, Gatherings of a Naturalist in Australasia: Being observations principally on the animal and vegetable productions of New South Wales, New Zealand, and some of the Austral Islands. London: John Van Voorst, 1860, pp. 94–95.

18. Julian Huxley (ed.), T.H. Huxley’s Diary of the Voyage of the Rattlesnake. London: Chatto and Windus, 1935, p. 28. 19. ibid., p. 49. 20. ibid., p. 73n.

3.  ‘Dans les champs de l’observation, le hasard ne favorise que les esprits preparés’ (In observation, chance favours only the prepared mind), in Walter B. Cannon, The Way of an Investigator. New York: Norton Books, 1945, p. 75.

21. ‘Married’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 25 March 1848, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12894559. 22. John Macgillivray, The Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, vol. 1, p. 221.

4. George Bennett, Gatherings, 1860, p. 95. 5. In full, George Bennett, Wanderings in New South Wales, Batavia, Pedir Coast. Singapore and China: Being the journal of a naturalist in those countries during 1832, 1833 and 1834, vol. 1. London: Richard Bentley, 1834. The end of vol. 1 and all of vol. 2 deal with non-Australian travels.

23. ibid., p. 229. 24. Julian Huxley, p. 129 ff. For deaths, see ‘The Late Mr. Kennedy’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 7 March 1849, p. 2, trove.nla.gov. au/ndp/del/article/12906078. 25. John Macgillivray, The Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, vol. 2, p. 69.

6. George Bennett, Wanderings, p. 306. 7. An excellent source, drawn on in this account, will be found in V.M. Coppleson, ‘The Life and Times of George Bennett’, The Bulletin of the Post-Graduate Committee in Medicine, University of Sydney, vol. 11, no. 9, December 1955, pp. 207–264.

26. Ann Mozley, ‘Huxley, Thomas Henry (1825–1895)’, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, adb.anu.edu.au/biography/ huxley-thomas-henry-2219/text2883, viewed 24 June 2011.

8. ‘Botany’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 18 September 1860, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13046050.

27. ‘The Month—Science and Art’, from ‘Chambers’ Journal’, The Courier (Hobart), 21 October 1854, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/ del/article/2244932.

9. ‘Society for the Acclimatisation of Animals &c.’, The Argus, 9 October 1860, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/5691233.

28. T.H. Huxley, ‘Contributions to Morphology. Ichthyopsida.— No. 1. On Ceratodus forsteri, with observations on the classification of fishes’, Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London, vol. 44, issue 1, January 1876, pp. 24–59.

10. Advertisement, The Sydney Morning Herald, 21 October 1861, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13066795. 11. V.M. Coppleson, p. 223.

194

29. Letter to Dr Thomson, 27 January 1851, in T.H. Huxley, Diary of the Voyage of the Rattlesnake, appendix, p. 355.

10. ‘The Queen’s Birthday’, The Sydney Herald, 25 May 1842, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12875365.

30. ibid., pp. 357–358.

11. S ee, for example, ‘Progress of Internal Discovery. — Dr. Leichhardt’s Expedition to Port Essington’, The Australian (Sydney), 25 July 1844, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/37124456.

31. Andrew David, The Voyage of HMS Herald: To Australia and the south-west Pacific, 1852–1861, under the command of Captain Henry Mangles Denham. Carlton, Victoria: Melbourne University Press at the Miegunyah Press, 1995, pp. 161–162.

12. ‘Departures’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 August 1844, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12419014.

32. Captain Denham, RN, ‘Search for Mr. Benjamin Boyd’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 10 August 1855, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/12972753.

13. Ludwig Leichhardt, Journal of an Overland Expedition in Australia: From Moreton Bay to Port Essington, a distance of upwards of 3000 miles, during the years 1844–1845. Adelaide: Libraries Board of South Australia, 1845.

33. This is sometimes questioned, but see the society’s advertisement in the The Sydney Morning Herald, 29 August 1856, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12986517.

14. ibid.

34. Advertisement, The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 January 1857, p. 8, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12991473.

15. A lec H. Chisholm, Strange New World: The adventures of John Gilbert and Ludwig Leichhardt, revised edn. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1955, p. 33.

Makers of Their Own Fates

16. ‘Shipping Intelligence’, Colonial Times (Hobart), 25 September 1838, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/8749034.

1. ‘Richard Cunningham, Esq.’, The Sydney Monitor, 23 September 1835, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32149768.

17. ‘Wreck of the Parsee’, South Australian Gazette and Colonial Register, 24 November 1838, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/31750251.

2. Barron Field (ed.), Geographical Memoirs on New South Wales by Various Hands. London: John Murray, 1825.

18. ‘Death of Mr. Gilbert’, The Moreton Bay Courier (Brisbane), Saturday, 24 July 1847, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/3710336.

3. ibid., ch. 6, ‘Journal of a Route from Bathurst to Liverpool Plains’ and ch. 13, ‘On the Botany of the Blue Mountains’. 4. ‘Richard Cunningham, Esq.’, The Sydney Monitor, 23 September 1835, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/32149768.

19. Darrell Lewis, ‘The Fate of Leichhardt’, Historical Records of Australian Science, vol. 17, no. 1, 2006, pp. 1–30.

5. See the report by Lieutenant Zouch, reproduced as an appendix to Ernest Favenc’s The History of Australian Exploration from 1788 to 1888: Compiled from state documents, private papers, and the most authentic sources of information by Ernest Favenc. Sydney: Turner & Henderson, 1888, most easily accessed at gutenberg.net.au/ausexplore/ausexpl3-app04.html.

20. Rod Home, ‘Leichhardt: The motivations of an explorer’, paper presented at the Leichhardt symposium, National Museum of Australia, 15 June 2007, nma.gov.au/audio/transcripts/ leichhardt/NMA_home_20070615.html. 21. George Bennett, Wanderings in New South Wales, Batavia, Pedir Coast, Singapore and China, vol. 1. London: Richard Bentley, 1834, p. 109.

6. ‘The Botanical, alias The Kitchen Garden’, The Sydney Herald, Monday, 29 January 1838, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/12863090.

22. Ernest Favenc, The History of Australian Exploration from 1788 to 1888. Gladesville, NSW: Golden Press, 1983, p. 159.

7. Allan Cunningham, Journey over the Western or Blue Mountains, 11 June 1817, in Ida Lee, Early Explorers in Australia: From the log-books and journals, including the diary of Allan Cunningham, botanist, from March 1, 1817, to November 19, 1818. London: Methuen, 1925, p. 231.

23. A search on the phrase ‘boomerang propeller’ at trove.nla. gov.au in late 2010 revealed 18 articles in The Sydney Morning Herald alone, published in Mitchell’s lifetime. References to Mitchell in The Times (London) are as follows: 29 September 1852, issue 21233, p. 6; 21 March 1853, issue 21381, p. 8; 7 April 1853, issue 21396, p. 5; and 17 February 1854, issue 21667, p. 7.

8. Phillip Parker King, Narrative of a Survey of Intertropical Waters and Western Coasts of Australia between the Years 1818 and 1822, vol. 2. London: John Murray, 1827, p. 427.

24. ‘Improvement in Propellers’, Scientific American, vol. 4, issue 17, p. 132, 13 January 1849. Another article on the propeller appears in ‘Bomerang Propeller’, Scientific American, vol. 8, issue 7, p. 54, 30 October 1852.

9. ‘Leichhardt’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 1 April 1846, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12886265.

195

25. ‘A Boomerang Propeller’, Scientific American , vol. 9, issue 1, p. 6, 17 September 1853.

44. Gerard Krefft, ‘The Lower Murray Expedition’, The Argus, 13 October 1858, p. 1s, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/7302684.

26. ‘Arrivals–Thursday’, The Sydney Monitor and Commercial Advertiser, 5 February 1841, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/32188172.

45. ibid. 46. ‘Mr. Krefft’s Report on the Fossil Remains Found in the Caves of Wellington Valley’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 18 December 1866, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/28610349.

27. ‘Interesting Discovery’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 25 May 1830, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/2195206.

47. Gerard Krefft, ‘Remedies for Snake-Poisoning’, in The Maitland Mercury & Hunter River General Advertiser, 9 May 1868, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/18732438. Originally published as letter to the editor in The Australasian.

28. Lyndall Dawson, ‘Marsupial Fossils from Wellington Caves, New South Wales; The Historic and Scientific Significance of the Collections in the Australian Museum, Sydney’, Records of the Australian Museum, vol. 37, issue 2, 1985, pp. 55–69, web1.australianmuseum.net.au/Uploads/Journals/17640/335_ complete.pdf.

48. Gerard Krefft, ‘Snakes and Snake Bites’, The Sydney Morning Herald, Friday, 3 October 1862, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/13235009. 49. Gerard Krefft, ‘Remedies for Snake-Poisoning’, op. cit.

29. News report, The Argus, 27 March 1858, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/7148784.

50. ‘The Duke of Edinburgh in New South Wales’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 5 February 1868, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/ del/article/13160407.

30. ‘Geological Society’, The Argus, 4 October 1852, p. 6, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/4787467.

51. Gerard Krefft, letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 18 January 1870, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13198958.

31. ‘Latest News from the Victoria Diggings’, South Australian Register, 26 November 1852, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/38455823.

52. Martha Rutledge, ‘Krefft, Johann Ludwig Gerard (Louis) (1830– 1881)’, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, adb.anu.edu.au/ biography/krefft-johann-ludwig-gerard-louis-3972/text6271, viewed 28 January 2012.

32. ‘To the German Colonists’, The Argus, 15 August 1853, p. 8, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4795708. 33. ‘Melbourne’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 28 October 1854, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12954003.

53. ‘Twenty Years’, Nature: A weekly illustrated journal of science, vol. xiv, 7 November 1889, p. 399.

34. ‘Mind v. Matter’, The Argus, 20 February 1855, p. 4, http://trove. nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4804672.

True-blue Naturalists

35. ‘The Museum of Natural History’, The Argus, 24 April 1855, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4807185. 36. Advertisement, The Argus, 10 May 1856, p. 6 (column 7), trove. nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4837543.

1. J oseph Furphy to J.F. Archibald, The Bulletin, 4 April 1897, quoted in Stuart Macintyre, A Concise History of Australia, 3rd edn. Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 2009, p. 132.

37. ‘The University and the Museum’, The Argus, 29 July 1856, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/7133924.

2. ‘Death of Baron von Mueller’, The Argus, 10 October 1896, p. 7, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/9192890.

38. ‘Krift v. Blandowski’, The Argus, 11 March 1858, p. 7, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/7147878.

3. ‘Mind v. Matter’, The Argus, 20 February 1855, p. 4, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/4804672.

39. ‘Philosophical Institute of Victoria’, The Argus, 25 March 1858, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/7148652.

4. A  .C. Gregory and F.T. Gregory, Journals of the Australian Expeditions. Carlisle, W.A.: Hesperian Press, 2002, p. 101.

40. The Argus, 27 March 1858, p. 4 (second leader), trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/7148784.

5. ibid., p. 121. 6. Advertisement, The Argus, 22 August 1860, p. 8, trove.nla.gov. au/ndp/del/article/5688402.

41. ‘Philosophical Institute of Victoria’, The Argus, 15 April 1858, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/7292824.

7. ‘The Plant Life of Western Australia: Letter from Sir Ferdinand Von Mueller’, The West Australian, 13 April 1896, p. 6, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/3086214.

42. ibid. 43. Rev. W.B. Clarke, ‘Royal Society of New South Wales: 1875 Anniversary Address’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 May 1875, p. 7, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/28404263.

8. ‘Obituary: Mrs. Charles Meredith’, Launceston Examiner, 22 October 1895, p. 7, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/39619192.

196

9. L  ouisa Anne Meredith (Mrs. Charles Meredith), Notes and Sketches of New South Wales: During a residence in that colony from 1839 to 1844. London: John Murray, 1844, and Ringwood: Penguin Books, 1973, page 34.

28. S ee Elizabeth Lawson, The Natural Art of Louisa Atkinson. Sydney: State Library of NSW Press, 1995. 29. L  .A. Fernhurst, ‘A Voice from the Country: Antechinus, Bees’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 July 1861, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/13058884.

10. ibid., pp. 45–46.

30. ‘Deaths’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 October 1867, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13158194.

11. ibid., p. 40. 12. ibid., pp. 126–127.

31. A  gainst the odds, the daughter (Louise) survived, and became Mrs J.I.C. Cosh. See Louisa Atkinson, Excursions from Berrima and a Trip to Manaro and Molonglo in the 1870s. Canberra: Mulini Press, 1980.

13. ibid., p. 95. 14. ‘Death of Mrs. Charles Meredith’, The Argus, 22 October 1895, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/8878464.

32. M  ary Salmon, ‘Australian Pioneers: Literary woman’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 March 1911, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/15227496.

15. Louisa Anne Meredith, op.cit., p. 39. 16. ‘Current Literature’, The Argus, 5 March 1892, p. 13, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/8404560.

33. L  .A. (Louisa Atkinson), ‘Incidents of Australian Travel’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 9 November 1863, p. 2, trove.nla.gov. au/ndp/del/article/13090989.

17. Louisa Anne Meredith, Tasmania’s Friends and Foes, Feathered, Furred and Finned: A family chronicle of country life, natural history, and veritable adventure, 2nd edn. London: Marcus Ward, 1881, p. 158.

34. ‘At Home with Margaret Sydney’, The Australian Women’s Weekly, 25 February 1976, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/45651790.

18. ‘List of Donations to the Australian Museum, during March, 1861’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 April 1861, p. 4, trove.nla. gov.au/ndp/del/article/13063274.

35. N  ews report, The Argus, 22 January 1889, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/6217837.

19. ‘The Last of the Artist Naturalists’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 December 1910, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/15193350.

36. N  ews report, The Argus, 23 January 1889, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/6218032.

20. W. Swainson, ‘Review’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 August 1851, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12929906.

37. ‘A Juryman’, letter to the editor, The Argus, 26 January 1889, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/6218562.

21. Advertisement, The Sydney Morning Herald, 3 September 1851, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12930016.

38. ibid. 39. N  ews report, The Brisbane Courier, 2 November 1891, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/3532810/537152.

22. Gerard Krefft, The Snakes of Australia. Sydney: Thomas Richards, Government Printer, 1869, preface.

40. ‘Mrs Ellis Rowan: Exhibition of Australian flowers’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 20 April 1896, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/14046278.

23. Nancy Gray, ‘Scott, Helena (1832–1910)’, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, anu.edu.au/biography/scott-helena-4926/text7449, viewed 7 March 2011. A careful scrutiny of the identical appendix on flowers in each of the guides reveals that William Woolls wrote the text, but there is no identification of the artist.

41. L  est I seem to be denigrating the work of the protesting artists, I have a personal preference for Tom Roberts’ landscapes (and especially his gum trees) over Mrs Rowan’s flowers, but I enjoy both.

24. ‘The Last of the Artist Naturalists’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 14 December 1910, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/15193350.

42. J ulian Ashton, ‘The Rowan Collection’, letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 3 December 1921, p. 13, trove.nla.gov. au/ndp/del/article/15982029.

25. ‘Notes of the Week’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 April 1874, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13334785.

43. W  .S. Macleay, letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 7 July 1847, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12889411.

26. ‘Berrima’, The Sydney Herald, 21 March 1842, p. 2, trove.nla.gov. au/ndp/del/article/12874315.

44. ‘Zoological Society’, The Sydney Herald, 6 November 1837, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12864022. Originally published in the Atheneaum (London).

27. ‘ Deaths’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 3 May 1834, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/2216045.

197

45. Barron Field (ed.), Geographical Memoirs on New South Wales by Various Hands. London: John Murray, 1825, p. viii.

9. N  ews report, The Hobart Town Courier and Van Diemen’s Land Gazette, 26 July 1839, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/8747773.

46. ‘The Bunyip, or Kine Pratie’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 21 January 1847, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12890123.

10. ‘The Collector of the Humming Birds’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 October 1851, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/12931040.

47. ibid. 48. William Hovell, ‘The Apocryphal Animal of the Interior of New South Wales’, letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 9 February 1847, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/12897214.

11. ‘Zoological Society’, The Sydney Herald, 9 June 1836, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12854479. 12. Advertisement, The Hobart Town Courier, 23 June 1837, p, 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4171196.

49. George Hobler to W.H. Hovell, Esq., J.P., Goulburn, forwarded by William Hovell to The Sydney Morning Herald, 16 June 1847, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12897228.

13. ‘Gould’s Birds of Australia’, The Hobart Town Courier, 2 October 1838, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4162381.

50. W.S. Macleay, letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 7 July 1847, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12889411.

14. ‘Gould in the Field’, Australian Museum, australianmuseum.net.au/Gould-in-the-field/, viewed 16 January 2011.

51. ibid.

15. A  dvertisement, ‘The Fine Arts’, The South Australian Register, 27 July 1850, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/38437357.

52. W.S. Macleay, letter to the editor, The Sydney Morning Herald, 1 January 1859, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13014665.

16. ‘Mr. Angas’s Exhibition of Paintings’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 30 July 1845, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/12881180.

53. ‘The Duello’, The Argus, Thursday 8 November 1849, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/4766499. Quoted from original correspondence in The Sydney Morning Herald.

17. A  dvertisement, ‘The Fine Arts’, The South Australian Register, 27 July 1850, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/38437357.

Australia Live

18. ‘New South Wales’, The South Australian Register, 4 October 1851, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/38450158. Quoted from original correspondence in the Maitland Mercury.

1. P  hillip Parker King, Narrative of a Survey of Intertropical Waters and Western Coasts of Australia, Performed between the Years 1818 and 1822. London: John Murray, 1827, conclusion to vol. 2.

19. Tender advertisement, The Sydney Morning Herald, 21 December 1855, p. 8, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/12983009.

2. ‘Proposals’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 14 September 1806, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/627283.

20. John Tregenza, George French Angas: Artist, traveller and naturalist 1822–1886. Adelaide: Art Gallery Board, 1980, pp. 28–29.

3. John Lewin to Dru Drury, 7 March 1803, in Bernard Smith (ed.), Documents on Art and Taste in Australia. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1975, p. 19. Original held in Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales.

21. ‘The South Australian Wombat’, The South Australian Advertiser, 21 January 1862. p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/31806652.

4. Advertisement, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 1 October 1809, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/627832.

22. Joseph Furphy, Such Is Life. London: Hogarth Press, 1986, p. 45. 23. ‘News of the Day’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 October 1883, p. 11, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/28371390.

5. Advertisement, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 12 June 1808, p. 2, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/627525. 6.

24. ‘Royal Society of New South Wales’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 6 November 1884, p. 8, http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/13578165.

A  dvertisement, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 18 September 1808, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/627584.

25. ‘The British Association’, The Times (London), 4 September 1884, p. 6 (column 2).

7. ‘Government and General Orders’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 6 October 1810, p. 2, trove.nla.gov. au/ndp/del/article/628088.

26. ‘News of the day’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 6 September 1884, p. 13, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13568685.

8. ‘A Card’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser, 1 August 1812, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/628520.

198

27. ‘Reproduction of Australian Mammals’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 September 1884, p. 5, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/13564413.

44. ‘Professor Caldwell’s Recent Scientific Discoveries’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 18 December 1884, p. 3, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/ del/article/13578962.

28. S ee, for example, the cases listed by Theodore Gill, ‘The Eggs of the Ornithorhynchus’, Science, vol. iv, issue 93, 14 November 1884, pp. 452–453.

45. D  arwinian, letter to the editor, The Argus, 17 September 1884, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/6057661. 46. N  ews report, The Sydney Morning Herald, 16 September 1884, p. 8, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13568451.

29. V  .M. Coppleson, ‘The Life and Times of George Bennett’, The Bulletin of the Post-Graduate Committee in Medicine, University of Sydney, vol. 11, issue 9, 1955, p. 225.

47. Editorial, The Argus, 20 September 1884, p. 8, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/6057894.

30. G  eorge Bennett, ‘The Platypus and the Echidna’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 9 September 1884, p. 4, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/ del/article/28368192.

48. ibid. 49. ‘Marriages’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 28 January 1887, p. 1, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/13625724.

31. S ee, for example, John Bodkin, ‘Mr. Caldwell’s Discovery’, The Argus, 9 September 1884, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/6057053.

50. O  bituaries: Mr W.H. Caldwell, Nature, vol. 148, 8 November 1941, pp. 557–559.

32. ‘Reproduction of Australian Mammals’, The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 September 1884, p. 11, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/13571318.

51. W  , ‘London Letter’, Science, vol. vii, issue 176, 18 June 1886, pp. 544–546.

33. S ee Henry F. Osborn, ‘Dr. Haacke’s Discovery of the Eggs of the Echidna’, Science, vol. 5, issue 100, 2 January 1885, p. 3.

The Value of a Curious Mind 52. ‘Fauna Board: Result of open season’, The Mercury (Hobart), 20 September 1933, p. 9, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/24898325.

34. ‘The Royal Society’, South Australian Register, 5 September 1884, p. 7, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/43817742. 35. P  eter Beveridge, ‘Marsupial and Monotremata’, The Argus, 13 September 1884, p. 13, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/6057322. 36. D  arwinian, ‘Marsupials and Monotremata’, The Argus, 15 September 1884, p. 14, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/6057508. 37. Th  omas Shearman Ralph, ‘Marsupialia and Monotremata’, The Argus, 17 September 1884, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/6057662. 38. A  n Old Colonist of Sixty Years, letter to the editor, The Argus, 17 September 1884, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/6057620. 39. W  illiam Murrell, letter to the editor, The Argus, 17 September 1884, p. 10, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/6057621. 40. H  .N. Wollaston, ‘The Marsupialia and Monotremata’, The Argus, 18 September 1884, p. 7, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/ article/6057705. 41. C  harles D. Barber, letter to the editor, The Argus, 20 September 1884, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/6057844. 42. J ohn Bodkin, letter to the editor, The Argus, 20 September 1884, p. 6, trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/6057847. 43. Editorial, The Argus, 20 September 1884, p. 8, trove.nla.gov.au/ ndp/del/article/6057894.

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List of illustrations

Foreword and Contents H.C. Richter (1821–1902) Myrmecobius fasciatus Gould 1845 hand-coloured lithograph; 37.5 x 55.5 cm plate no. 10 reproduced from The Mammals of Australia by John Gould (London: 1845) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an10485380 Edward Lear (1812–1888) Palaeornis novae-hollandiae, New Holland Parrakeet, in the Possession of the Right Hon. the Countess of Mountcharles c.1830 lithograph; 52.7 x 36.6 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an11135255

Introduction Augustus Earle (1793–1838) View from the Summit of Mount York, Looking towards Bathurst Plains, Convicts Breaking Stones, N.S. Wales c.1826 watercolour; 22.5 x 33.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2818287 George French Angas (1822–1886) Bathurst 1851 hand-coloured lithograph; 22.7 x 34.0 cm plate no. 5 reproduced from Six Views of the Gold Field of Ophir (Sydney: Woolcott and Clarke, 1851) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6065485 Conrad Martens (1801–1878) On the Bathurst Road 1854 pencil drawing; 25.3 x 36.4 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2390565

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Dampiera linearis, Needhamiella pumilio, Agrostcrinum (Agrostocrinum) scabrum, Hibbertia cunninghamii, Sphaerolobium 1880 watercolour; 54.5 x 37.8 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6735338 Ida McComish (1885–1978) Dampiera stricta, Botany Bay, New South Wales c.1936–1956 watercolour; 9.8 x 6.9 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an24894821-s34-b1 William Dampier (1651–1715) Capt. Dampier’s New Voyage to New Holland &c. in 1699 &c. c.1729 map; 15.2 x 27.2 cm Maps Collection: nla.map-nk11185 Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Dampiera stricta, Family Goodeniaceae c.1880 watercolour; 56.2 x 38.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn4583104

Part Two – Vlamingh Jacques Louis Perée (b.1769) Cigne Noir du Cap de Diemen 1817 engraving; 31.0 x 44.8 cm plate no. 9 reproduced from Atlas pour Servir à la Relation du Voyage à la Recherche de La Pérouse (Paris: Chez Dabo, 1817) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an11164943 Gerard van Keulen T Zuijd Land ontdeckt door Willem de Vlamingh in de Maande van Jan an Febrii 1697 met t Yagt de Geelvink de Hooker de Nyptang ent Galjoot’t Weseltj c.1697–1726 colour map; 56.8 x 96.8 cm Maps Collection: nla.map-rm752

Part Three – La Billardière and Riche Australian Nature Discovered Part One – Dampier Edmund Dyer Portrait of Captain William Dampier c.1835 oil on canvas; 76.3 x 64.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2288453

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Exocarpos cupressiformis Labill., Olearea (Olearia) myrsinoides (Labill.) F. Muell. ex Benth., Olearea (Olearia) ramulosa (Labill.) Benth. the Twiggy Daisy-bush, Veronica derwentiana Andrews, 1886 watercolour; 54.5 x 38.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6724416

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Pierre Joseph Redouté (artist, 1759–1840), Claude-Marie-François Dien (engraver, 1787–1865) Anigozanthos rufa 1817 engraving; 44.5 x 31.7 cm plate no. 22 reproduced from Atlas pour Servir à la Relation du Voyage à la Recherche de La Pérouse (Paris: Chez Dabo, 1817) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an20978859 Pierre Joseph Redouté (artist, 1759–1840), Claude-Marie-François Dien (engraver, 1787–1865) Eucalyptus globulus 1817 engraving; 44.5 x 31.7 cm plate no. 13 reproduced from Atlas pour Servir à la Relation du Voyage à la Recherche de La Pérouse (Paris: Chez Dabo, 1817) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an20974042

Part Four – Lesueur and Péron Unknown artist Portrait of C.A. LeSueur c.1900–1949 black and white photograph; 8.7 x 5.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3799822 Ambroise Tardieu (1788–1841) Fois. Péron (Voyageur), Membre Correspondant de l’Institut c.1820 stipple engraving; 21.6 x 14.6 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9814353 Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Choubard (engraver, active 1807–1830) Nouvelle-Hollande: Nelle Galles du Sud (Ornithorinque) 1807 hand-coloured engraving; 24.2 x 31.8 cm plate no. 34 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7568602 Jean Baptiste Antoine Cloquet (d.1828) Plan de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes 1807 engraving; 24.2 x 31.0 cm plate no. 11 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7567557

François Martin Testard Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Dessins Exécutés par les Naturels 1824 engraving; 24.5 x 31.5 cm plate no. 33 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes (2nd edn) by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1824) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7569799 Victor Pillement (1767–1814) Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Vue de la Partie Méridionale de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes, et de l’Embouchure de la Rivière de Parramatta 1803 engraving; 24.0 x 49.0 cm plate no. 38 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7568621 Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Choubard (engraver, active 1807–1830) Nouvelle-Hollande: Île King, Le Wombat 1807 hand-coloured engraving; 24.0 x 31.5 cm plate no. 28 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7573691 Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Aine Lambert (engraver, active 1807–1830) Mollusques et Zoophytes 1807 hand-coloured engraving; 33.5 x 24.0 cm plate no. 31 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7573697 Charles-Alexandre Lesueur (artist, 1778–1846), Choubard (engraver, active 1807–1830) Mollusques et Zoophytes 1807 hand-coloured print; 32.0 x 24.0 cm plate no. 29 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7573692 Jean-Dominique-Etienne Canu (b.1768) Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Dasyure à Longue Queue 1807 hand-coloured engraving; 24.5 x 32.0 cm plate no. 33 reproduced from Voyage de Découvertes aux Terres Australes by François Péron (Paris: de l’Imprimerie de Langlois, 1807) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7568600

Putting Australian Nature on the Map Part One – Banks, Parkinson and Cook Thomas Phillips (artist, 1770–1845), Nicholas Schiavonetti (engraver, d.1813) Portrait of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart., President of the Royal Society 1812 engraving; 43.2 x 34.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9283220 John Hamilton Mortimer (1740–1779) Captain James Cook, Sir Joseph Banks, Lord Sandwich, Dr Daniel Solander and Dr John Hawkesworth c.1771 oil on canvas; 120.0 x 166.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7351768 Josiah Wedgwood & Sons Limited (manufacturer) Plaque of Captain James Cook 1957 plaque; height 11.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7743367 Thomas Luny (1759–1837) The Bark, Earl of Pembroke, Later Endeavour, Leaving Whitby Harbour in 1768 oil on canvas; 79.1 x 145.1 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2280897 Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), Daniel MacKenzie (engraver, active 1770–1780) Banksia dentata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum dentatum, Endeavour River, Australia, 17 June-4 August 1770 hand-coloured engraving; 46.0 x 29.5 cm plate 286 reproduced from Banks’ Florilegium (London: Alecto Historical Editions in association with Natural History Museum, 1980–1990) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn4173829 Courtesy Alecto Historical Editions Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), R. Hughes (engraver) Banksia ericifolia 1986 hand-coloured copper engraving; 46.0 x 29.5 cm plate no. 741 reproduced from Banks’ Florilegium (London: Alecto Historical Editions in association with Natural History Museum, c.1983) Pictures Collection Courtesy Alecto Historical Editions Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), Charles White (engraver) Banksia integrifolia hand-coloured copper engraving; 46.0 x 29.5 cm plate 284 reproduced from Banks’ Florilegium (London: Alecto Historical Editions in association with Natural History Museum, c.1983) Pictures Collection Courtesy Alecto Historical Editions

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Sydney Parkinson (artist, c.1745–1771), Gabriel Smith (engraver, 1724–1783) Banksia serrata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum serratifolium, Botany Bay, Australia, 28 April–6 May 1770 c.1983 engraving; 46.4 x 29.9 cm plate 285 reproduced from Banks’ Florilegium (London: Alecto Historical Editions in association with Natural History Museum, 1980–1990) Pictures Collection Courtesy Alecto Historical Editions Unknown artist, after Nathaniel Dance-Holland (1735–1811) Captain James Cook F.R.S. c.1790 engraving; 25.7 x 20.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9186279 William Byrne (engraver, 1743–1805) A View of Endeavour River, on the Coast of New Holland, Where the ship was Laid on Shore in Order to Repair the Damage Which She Received on the Rock 1773 engraving; 24.3 x 50.0 cm plate no. 19 reproduced from An Account of the Voyages Undertaken by the Order of His Present Majesty for Making Discoveries in the Southern Hemisphere (vol. 2) by John Hawkesworth Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9184938 William Ellis (c.1756–1785) View of Adventure Bay, Van Diemen’s Land, New Holland 1777 watercolour and ink; 20.0 x 47.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an10345304

Part Two – Darwin Robert Marsh Westmacott (1801–1870) View of Sydney Harbour from the Domain c.1840–1846 watercolour; 23.7 x 26.6 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an3706267 Josiah Wedgwood Wedgwood medallion made from dark grey clay from Sydney Cove, 1789 Courtesy National Museum of Australia Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Sydney Harbour c.1840 watercolour; 31.7 x 46.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2390722 Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Valparaiso, Novr 12, ’34, Quebrada Elios 1834 watercolour; 19.3 x 29.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an23908845.

Conrad Martens (1801–1878) The Lighthouse, Port Jackson 1850 hand-coloured lithograph; 15.0 x 25.5 cm plate no. 2 of set 2, no. 1 reproduced from Sketches in the Environs of Sydney (Sydney: C. Martens, 1850) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7681626

watercolour; 31.4 x 44.5 cm reproduced from Drawings by William Westall (London: Royal Commonwealth Society, 1962) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4577646

George Raper (1769–1796) Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) c.1788 watercolour; 40.7 x 32.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3579224

Part Two – White and Watling

William Westall (1781–1850) Self-portrait of William Westall c.1820 oil on canvas; 24.1 x 21.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7692976

John Cleveley (c.1745–1786) Bauera capitata Ser. 1773 black and white print; 48.5 x 32.1 cm plate no. 94 reproduced from Illustrations of the Botany of Captain Cook’s Voyage round the World in H.M.S. Endeavour in 1768–71 by Sir Joseph Banks and Daniel Solander (London: British Museum, 1900) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3118012

Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826) Stewartia serrata c.1800 watercolour; 44.2 x 29.1 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an5598213

Adam Forster (1848–1928) Goodia lotifolia 1925 watercolour; 39.3 x 28.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6183835

Ferdinand Bauer (1760–1826) Platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus) coloured stochastic lithograph; 46.0 x 31.0 cm plate no. 15 reproduced from Ferdinand Bauer’s Natural History Drawings (London: Alecto Historical Editions in association with the Natural History Museum, 1997) Pictures Collection

Part Four – Dietrich and Molloy

Part Three – Bauer, Brown and Flinders

William Westall (1781–1850) Mount Westall, View South-East 1802 pencil drawing; 25.5 x 37.0 cm reproduced from Drawings by William Westall (London: Royal Commonwealth Society, 1962) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4564030 William Westall (1781–1850) Wreck of the Porpoise, Flinders Expedition 1802 watercolour; 31.2 x 46.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4910322 William Westall (1781–1850) King George’s Sound, View from the North-west 1801 pencil and wash; 16.0 x 26.7 cm reproduced from Drawings by William Westall (London: Royal Commonwealth Society, 1962) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4561238 William Westall (1781–1850) Chasm Island, Native Cave Painting, 1803 watercolour; 26.7 x 36.6 cm reproduced from Drawings by William Westall (London: Royal Commonwealth Society, 1962) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4565173 William Westall (1781–1850) Thistle Island, a Snake 1802 watercolour; 21.0 x 33.0 cm reproduced from Drawings by William Westall (London: Royal Commonwealth Society, 1962) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4561849 William Westall (1781–1850) Views on the East Coast of Australia 1802

Unknown artist Portrait of Georgiana Molloy commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Georgiana_ Molloy_2.jpg Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Anigozanthos manglesii c.1880 watercolour; 54.4 x 37.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6801626

Australia Expanded Part One – Bennett Unknown artist Portrait of Dr. George Bennett, F.Z.S. c.1840 lithograph; 32.2 x 28.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9455386 George French Angas (1822–1886) Australian Water Mole: (Ornithorhynchus paradoxus) coloured plate plate between pp. 134 and 135 reproduced from Gatherings of a Naturalist in Australasia by George Bennett (London: John Van Voorst, 1860) Advertisement for the Emeu voyage that carried George Bennett to Suez reproduced from The Sydney Morning Herald, 12 February 1859, p. 1 Newspapers Collection Unknown artist Portrait of George Bennett c.1900 black and white photograph; 22.4 x 14.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3791179

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Thomas Watling (1762–c.1814) Skink c.1795 watercolour; 17.8 x 27.6 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an5487489 John Hunter (1737–1821) Eastern Grey Kangaroo (Macropus giganteus) c.1788–1790 watercolour; 22.6 x 18.3 cm no. 60 reproduced from his Birds & Flowers of New South Wales Drawn on the Spot in 1788, ’89 & ’90 Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an3172052 Thomas Watling (artist, 1762–c.1814), William Staden Blake (engraver, c.1748–1822) A View of the Town of Sydney in the Colony of New South Wales Taken from the Rising Ground near the Court House on the West Side of the Cove 1802 aquatint; 35.5 x 48.8 cm plate no. 50 reproduced from First Views of Australia (London: 1802) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6016088 Port Jackson Painter (active 1788–1794) Marsupial, ‘Flying Squirrel or Mouse’ c.1788–1797 drawing; 20.5 x 14.6 cm reproduced from drawing no. 90, Thomas Watling Drawing Collection, 1788–c.1797 Courtesy Natural History Museum, London John Hunter (1737–1821) Handsome Wedge Pea (Gompholobium grandiflorum) c.1788–1790 watercolour; 22.6 x 18.3 cm no. 32 reproduced from his Birds & Flowers of New South Wales Drawn on the Spot in 1788, ’89 & ’90 Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an3149614 John Hunter (1737–1821) Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) c.1788–1790 watercolour; 22.6 x 18.3 cm no. 7 reproduced from his Birds & Flowers of New South Wales Drawn on the Spot in 1788, ’89, & ’90 Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an3148774

Part Three – Huxley and Macgillivray Unknown artist Portrait of John MacGillivray 1937 black and white picture; 13.3 x 13.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3793138 Thomas Henry Huxley (1825–1895) Self-portrait 1847 pen and ink drawing; 23.5 x 18.9 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an10335225

Unknown artist H.M.S. Rattlesnake off the Australian Coast c.1848 oil on canvas; 20.8 x 33.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2272119 Unknown artist Portrait of Biologist T.H. Huxley black and white photograph; 10.7 x 8.1 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3800290 Oswald Walters Brierly (1817–1894) H.M.S. Rattlesnake & Bramble Tender Commanded by Captain Owen Stanley R.N.: Finding an Entrance through the Reefs into the Louisiade Archipelago, S.E. Extreme, New Guinea, June 14th, 1849 (detail) coloured lithograph; 25.4 x 35.5 cm (London: Ackermann & Co., 1852) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an11905521 John Macgillivray (1821–1867) New Shells reproduced from Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, Commanded by the Late Captain Owen Stanley, R.N., F.R.S. &c., during the Years 1846–1850 (vol. 2) (London: T. & W. Boone, 1852) Australian Collection

Makers of Their Own Fates Part One – The Cunninghams Unknown artist Probably drawn for Conrad Martens by one of the officers of H.M.S. Herald; mounted with Martens’ pencil sketch for his watercolour of the funeral Portrait of Allan Cunningham c.1835 oil on wood panel; 31.0 x 26.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2287723 Raphael Clint (1797–1849) Map of the South and Eastern Parts of Australia 1839 hand-coloured map; 38.6 x 66.3 cm Maps Collection: nla.map-rm917 Unknown artist Form of Boat Procession to Convey the Remains of Rear Admiral King from North to South Shore on Saturday 1st March, 1856 pen drawing; 32.4 x 19.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2390546 Samuel Thomas Gill (1818–1880) Cunningham’s Monument, Botanic Gardens, Sydney 1856 lithograph; 12.0 x 23.8 cm reproduced from Sydney Illustrated (Sydney: Allan & Wigley, 1856) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7537502

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Hibbertia cunninghamia, Agrostocrinum, W. Australia c.1906 watercolour; 54.7 x 38.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6724348

Part Two – Leichhardt and Gilbert Unknown artist Portrait of Ludwig Leichhardt c.1850 hand-coloured lithograph; 15.5 x 12.9 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an21971599 Harden Sidney Melville (engraver, active 1837–1881) Victoria Square, Port Essington opposite p. 351 reproduced from Narrative of the Surveying Voyage of H.M.S Fly by J. Beete Jukes (London: T. & W. Boone, 1847) Pictures Collection Unknown artist Leichhardt’s Expedition c.1881   Members of Leichhardt’s 1844–5 Expedition (Moreton Bay to Port Essington) Left to right: James S. Calvert, John Murphy, and John Roper photograph; 14.8 cm x 10.6 cm image B 11305 Courtesy State Library of South Australia Unknown artist (JM) Leichardt from a Portrait Taken by One of the Explorists from Moreton Bay to Swan River c.1846 pencil drawing; 17.5 x 12.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6054888 Unknown artist Memorial to John Gilbert at Drakes Ford, W.A. c.1960 black and white photograph; 6.4 x 8.9 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3799653

Part Three – Mitchell William Thomas Cooper (b.1934) Major Mitchell’s Cockatoo (Cacatua leadbeateri leadbeateri); Citron-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea citrinocristata); Lesser Sulphur-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea sulphurea) 1970 watercolour; 55.8 x 39.8 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4084446 R.B. Bate (manufacturer) Surveying Instruments Used by Sir Thomas Mitchell during His Three Expeditions 1831–1846 c.1830 brass instrument set, in cedar box; 55.0 x 55.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6393476-1-s6 J. Macfarlane (active 1890–1898) Meeting of Major Mitchell and Edward Henty, Portland Bay, 1836 photoengraving; 52.5 x 69.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9025855-3

203

Raphael Clint (1797–1849) Map of the South and Eastern Parts of Australia 1839 hand-coloured map; 38.6 x 66.3 cm Maps Collection: nla.map-rm917 William Romaine Govett (1807–1848) Major Mitchell Sketching the Entrance of the Caves in Wellington Valley, New South Wales 1843 pen drawing; 23.0 x 29.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4700786 Neil Murray Wide and Level Mitchell Grass Plain Spreads Away from the Rugged MacDonnell Ranges on Hamilton Downs Station, Rich Cattle Country, Some 50 Miles West of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory 1954 black and white photograph; 15.5 x 20.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn4589709 Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Cockatoo from the Interior of Australia c.1835 watercolour; 38.0 x 30.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an5402061

Part Four – Blandowski William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Blandowski’s Camp’ reproduced from Australia: William Blandowski’s Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia edited by Harry Allen (Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 2010) Australian Monograph Collection: P1050267 William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Fishes: Living in the River Murray …’ reproduced from Australia: William Blandowski’s Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia edited by Harry Allen (Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 2010) Australian Monograph Collection: P1050269 William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Fishes: Living in the River Murray …’ reproduced from Australia: William Blandowski’s Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia edited by Harry Allen (Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 2010) Australian Monograph Collection: P1050270 William Blandowski (artist, 1822–1878), J. Redaway & Sons (engravers) Aborigines of Australia, Corrobori or Native Festival c.1855 aquatint; 22.7 x 29.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an8996431  William Blandowski (1822–1878) ‘Mondellimin: Near the Junction of the Darling and Murray Rivers’ reproduced from Australia: William Blandowski’s Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Aboriginal Australia edited by Harry Allen (Canberra: Aboriginal Studies Press, 2010) Australian Monograph Collection: P1050270

Part Five – Krefft Unknown artist Portrait of Gerard Krefft c.1870 black and white photograph; 10.4 x 7.8 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3800353 Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Geological Sketch of Wellington Valley 1838 coloured map; 20.0 x 29.2 cm plate no. 42 reproduced from his Three Expeditions into the Interior of Eastern Australia (London: T. & W. Boone, 1838) Maps Collection: nla.map-nk2456-117 Augustus Earle (1793–1838) Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, N.S.Wales, No. 5 c.1826 watercolour; 13.3 x 10.8 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2818416 Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Section and Groundplot of Two Caverns at Wellington Valley 1838 coloured map; 20.0 x 27.3 cm plate no. 23 reproduced from his Three Expeditions into the Interior of Eastern Australia (London: T. & W. Boone, 1838) Maps Collection: nla.map-nk2456-118 Augustus Earle (1793–1838) Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, New South Wales, No. 1 c.1826 watercolour; 21.0 x 32.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2818409 Helena Forde (1832–1910) Death Adder: Acanthophis antarctica plate no. 10 reproduced from The Snakes of Australia: An Illustrated and Descriptive Catalogue of All the Known Species by Gerard Krefft (Sydney: Thomas Richards, Government Printer, 1869) Australian Rare Books Collection Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Cave near Wellington c.1830 pencil drawing; 13.5 x 21.8 cm Pictures Collection Unknown artist The Prince Alfred Ray, Ceratoptera alfredi, Gerard Krefft c.1860 black and white photograph; 13.5 x 19.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3426138 Albert Carl Ludwig Gotthilf Günther (1830–1914) A Ganoid Fish from Queensland (Ceratodus) c.1872 plate no. 86 reproduced from Popular Science Review, vol. 11, no. 44 Australian Collection

True-blue Naturalists Part One – Mueller Charles Troedel & Co (lithographers) Baron Ferd. von Mueller c.1879 lithograph; 45.0 x 34.4 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9885412 Thomas Baines (1820–1875) The North Australian Expedition Crossing the Wickham River, a Tributary of the Victoria River c.1856 oil on lantern slide; 5.9 x 8.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an4054073 Unknown artist Blindia robusta table 7 reproduced from Analytical Drawings of Australian Mosses edited by Ferdinand Mueller (Melbourne: J. Ferres, 1864) Australian Books Collection Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Eucalyptus gracilis F.v. Mueller, Eucalyptus largiflorens F.v. Mueller 1886 watercolour; 54.2 x 38.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6649850 Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Hakea leucoptera Brown, Eremophila longifolia F.v.Mueller, Leptospermum laevigatum F.v.Mueller 1886 watercolour; 54.8 x 38.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6730558

Part Two – Meredith Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895) plate 1 reproduced from her Bush Friends in Tasmania: Native Flowers, Fruits and Insects, Drawn from Nature, with Prose Descriptions and Illustrations in Verse (London: Macmillan, 1891) Australian Collection Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Sydney Harbour 1845 watercolour; 46.0 x 66.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2390645 Anna Frances Walker (1830–1913) Ceratopetalum gummiferum Sm. 1887 hand-coloured lithograph; 36.7 x 28.0 cm plate no. 1 reproduced from her Flowers of New South Wales Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an11638779 Title page reproduced from The Romance of Nature; or, the Flower Seasons Illustrated by Louisa Anne Meredith (London: Charles Tilt, 1839) Australian Rare Books Collection

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Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895) Emerald King Butterfly, White Cluster (Gualtheria (Gaultheria) hispida), Purple Berry (Billardiera longiflora) plate no. 1 (chap. 1) reproduced from her Tasmanian Friends & Foes, Feathered, Furred, and Finned: A Family Chronicle of Country Life, Natural History, and Veritable Adventure (Hobart Town: J. Walch & Sons, 1880) Australian Rare Books Collection Neville Cayley (1853–1903) Black Swan hand-coloured photograph; 25.0 x 35.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn2897212

Part Three – The Scott Sisters Helena Forde (1832–1910) The flying Fox (Pteropus poliocephalus) plate no. 1 reproduced from The Mammals of Australia by Gerard Krefft (Sydney: Government Printer, 1871) Australian Collection Harriet Scott (1830–1907) Chelepteryx expolitus, Eulophocampe amaena plate no. 19 reproduced from Australian Lepidoptera and their Transformations Drawn from Life (vol. 1) by Harriet and Helena Scott, with descriptions general and systematic, by Alexander Walker Scott (London: John van Voorst, 1899) Australian Collection Helena Scott (1832–1910) Coequosa triangularis plate 10 reproduced from Australian Lepidoptera and their Transformations Drawn from Life (vol. 2) by Harriet and Helena Scott, with descriptions general and systematic, by Alexander Walker Scott (London, J. van Voorst, 1864) Australian Collection Harriet Scott (1830–1907) Dog-headed Thylacine, or Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacinus cynocephalus) 1871 plate no. 12 reproduced from The Mammals of Australia by Gerard Krefft (Sydney: Government Printer, 1871) Australian Collection Helena Scott (1832–1910) Hesperia coreeba, Pamphila palmarum plate no. 14 reproduced from Australian Lepidoptera and their Transformations Drawn from Life (vol. 1) by Harriet and Helena Scott, with descriptions general and systematic, by Alexander Walker Scott (London: John van Voorst, 1899) Australian Collection Harriet Scott (1830–1907) Ferns: Hypolepis (sp.) Lawson; Gleichenia dicarpa Wentworth Falls; Asplenium flabellifolium Mount Victoria; Alsophila australis Katoomba p. 148 reproduced from The Railway Guide of New South Wales (Sydney: Charles Potter, 1886)

Part Four – Atkinson Louisa Atkinson (1834–1872) Spotted Pardalote, Scarlet Honeyeater, Superb Blue Wren and Striated Pardalote c.1860 ink and watercolour drawing; 15.7 x 11.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an8136473 Conrad Martens (1801–1878) From the Currajong above Douglass’ Farm c.1853 watercolour; 23.0 x 32.9 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2725632 Charlotte Elizabeth Atkinson (1828–1911) Louisa c.1842–1846 watercolour and pencil drawing; 22.5 x 18.2 cm Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

Sketches of the alleged bones of a bunyip, provided by William Hovell, which appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald, Tuesday, 9 February 1847, p. 3 Newspapers Collection

John William Lewin (1770–1819) Lyrebird of Australia c.1810 watercolour; 38.2 x 27.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an5598060

Conrad Martens (artist, 1801–1878), Thomas Picken (engraver, active 1853–1878) View of Sydney, N.S.W. 1855 hand-coloured lithograph; 30.4 x 50.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6016341-1

John William Lewin (artist, 1770–1819), R. Havell & Son (engraver) A Native Chief of Baturst 1820 hand-coloured engraving; 26.5 x 21.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7674776

Sir Thomas Mitchell (1792–1855) Sketch of the Coast from Darling Harbour to Elizabeth Bay Showing the Grants to Mr. McLeay and Six Other Gentlemen 1832 map; 30.6 x 35.8 cm Maps Collection: nla.map-f324

John William Lewin (1770–1819) Two Kangaroos in Landscape 1819 watercolour; 39.5 x 56.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2970638

Thomas Herbert Maguire (1821–1895) Portrait of John Gould, Ornithologist c.1849 lithograph; 29.3 x 24.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an9547887

Part Five – Rowan Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Lomatia c.1880 watercolour; 56.0 x 38.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7696350 Peince Ellis Rowan Sketching Mary Moule Sitting on the Ground 1887 albumen print photograph; 19.3 x 24.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an21411729 Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Darwinia citriodora c.1880 watercolour; 55.0 x 38.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6724256 Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Acacia podalyriifolia, A. Cunn ex G. Don, Family Fabaceae, Mount Morgan Wattle or the Queensland Silver Wattle, Queensland c.1880 watercolour; 53.5 x 35.7 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an6632728

Australia Live Part One – Lewin John William Lewin (1770–1819) New Holland Honeyeater (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae) and Sour Currant Bush (Leptomeria acida) c.1790 watercolour; 22.3 x 18.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an3186866 Joseph Cross Map of Part of New South Wales, Embellished with Views in the Harbours of Port Jackson 1825 map; 77.2 x 65.7 cm Maps Collection: nla.map-nk883 John William Lewin (1770–1819) The Plains, Bathurst c.1815 watercolour; 46.2 x 66.4 cm Courtesy Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales

Ellis Rowan (1848–1922) Eucalyptus globulus c.1880 watercolour; 54.0 x 37.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7718949

John William Lewin (1770–1819) View in Tahiti 1802 pencil and sepia wash drawing; 11.4 x 18.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2970629

Part Six – Macleay

John William Lewin (1770–1819) plate no. 4 reproduced from his Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales (London: Thomas Lewin, 1805) Australian Collection

Harold Cazneaux (1878–1953) Staircase, Elizabeth Bay House 1930 black and white photograph; 37.7 x 30.4 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2383762-2 Conrad Martens (1801–1878) Elizabeth Bay, Port Jackson 1850 hand-coloured lithograph; 14.5 x 22.0 cm plate no. 1 of set 2, no. 1 reproduced from Sketches in the Environs of Sydney (Sydney: C. Martens, 1850) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7681619

Part Two – The Goulds

John William Lewin (1770–1819) plate no. 9 reproduced from his Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales (London: Thomas Lewin, 1805) Australian Collection

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Unknown artist Portrait of Mrs Elizabeth Gould black and white photograph; 17.3 x 12.2 cm photograph of a painting in a private collection Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3799791 H.C. Richter (1821–1902) Myrmecobius fasciatus Gould 1845 hand-coloured lithograph; 37.5 x 55.5 cm plate no. 10 reproduced from The Mammals of Australia by John Gould (London: 1845) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an10485380 Ebenezer Edward Gostelow (1866–1944) The Gouldian Finch (Poephila gouldiae) 1939 watercolour; 50.0 x 21.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an3823264 Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841) Platycercus adelaidiae Gould 1848 hand-coloured lithograph; 49.3 x 32.3 cm plate no. 22 reproduced from The Birds of Australia (vol. V) by John Gould (London: 1848) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an11127236 Elizabeth Gould (1804–1841) Podargus humeralis Vig. & Horsf. 1848 hand-coloured lithograph; 55.4 x 37.2 cm plate no. 3 reproduced from The Birds of Australia (vol. 2) by John Gould (London: 1848) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an11135263 H.C. Richter (1821–1902) Spheniscus undina Gould, Fairy Penguin 1848 watercolour; 28.2 x 35.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an10089754

Part Three – Angas Charles Baugniet (1814–1886) George French Angas 1848 lithograph; 35.8 x 29.5 cm frontispiece to The Kafirs Illustrated in a Series of Drawings Taken among the Amazulu, Amaponda and Amakosa Tribes by George French Angas (London: J. Hogarth, 1849) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7343166 William Wing (active 1844–1868) South Australian Lepidoptera 1847 hand-coloured lithograph; 53.2 x 35.8 cm plate no. 37 reproduced from South Australia Illustrated by George French Angas (London: Thomas McLean, 1847) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7322208 James William Giles (1801–1870) Bethany, a Village of German Settlers at the Foot of the Barossa Hills 1847 hand-coloured lithograph; 29.7 x 34.0 cm plate no. 60 reproduced from South Australia Illustrated by George French Angas (London: Thomas McLean, 1847) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7350692 James William Giles (1801–1870) Sea Mouth of the Murray 1847 hand-coloured lithograph plate no. 43 reproduced from South Australia Illustrated by George French Angas (London: Thomas McLean, 1847) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7322220 George French Angas (1822–1886) The Punt at Echuca 1877 engraving; 34.5 cm x 24.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7404335-3 George French Angas (1822–1886) Mallee Scrub, & Leipoa Mound 1877 engraving; 34.5 x 24.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7404335-9 James William Giles (1801–1870) Scene on the Coorung near Lake Albert, with the Halmaturus greyii, a New Species of Kangaroo hand-coloured lithograph; 35.8 x 54.5 cm plate no. 9 reproduced from South Australia Illustrated by George French Angas (London: Thomas McLean, 1846) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7342546 George French Angas (1822–1886) Drawing of One Wing and Body of a Butterfly c.1854 pencil drawing; 8.7 x 6.5 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2875643

Unknown artist Yattagolinga, Oct. 5, 1850 sepia wash drawing; 28.6 x 22.7 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2904209

Part Four – Caldwell George Raper (1769–1796) Glossy Black Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus lathami) with Macrozamia species c.1788 watercolour; 48.8 x 30.4 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3579495 Unknown artist A Kangaroo Hunt coloured lantern slide; 8.2 x 8.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an24912781 Walter G. Mason (1820–1866) The Echidna, or Porcupine Ant Eater 1857 wood engraving print; 11.5 x 13.2 cm plate on p. 53 reproduced from his Australian Picture Pleasure Book (Sydney: J.R. Clarke, 1857) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7978978 George Raper (1769–1796) Noisy Miner (Manorina melanocephala) with Wax-lipped Orchid (Glossodia major) left (detail) c.1788 watercolour; 32.1 x 20.4 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3579144 George Raper (1769–1796) Fringe Lily (Thysanotus tuberosus) c.1788 watercolour; 23.1 x 18.2 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3579778 Augustus Earle (1793–1838) Emu, New South Wales, 1827 watercolour; 12.7 x 14.9 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2820711 George Raper (1769–1796) Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike (Coracina novaehollandiae) c.1788 watercolour; 38.0 x 31.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-vn3579654

Acknowledgements George French Angas (1822–1886) Opening of the Free Chapel at Angaston, German Pass, Feby. 28th, 1844 1849 hand-coloured lithograph: 19.6 x 24.2 cm plate no. 6 reproduced from Description at the Barossa Range and Its Neighbourhood in South Australia by Agricola (London: M. & N. Hanhart, 1849) Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an7351729z

George French Angas (1822–1886) Butterfly Studies c.1840 watercolour; 30.5 x 19.0 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an2887852

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Index

A Aboriginal remains 57–58 Aborigines 103, 106, 112, 127, 149, 161 attack on Leichhardt’s party 92 attacks on collectors 167 ‘dispersed’ by Mitchell 97 names for species 167 Aborigines of Australia, Corrobori or Native Festival 106 Acacia podalyriifolia, A. Cunn ex G. Don, Family Fabaceae, Mount Morgan Wattle or the Queensland Silver Wattle, Queensland 144 Acacia truncata 19 Acanthophis antarctica 112 Adelaide rosella 168 Adventure Bay 40–41 Agassiz, Louis 113 Agrostocrinum scabrum 12 Allen, John 50 almanacs 78 Alsophila australis 135 Angas, George French 170–172, 171, 176–177 Australian Water Mole (Ornithorhynchus paradoxus) 64 Bathurst 6 Butterfly Studies 176 Drawing of One Wing and Body of a Butterfly 176 Mallee Scrub, & Leipoa Mound 175 Opening of the Free Chapel at Angaston. German Pass, Feby, 1844 191 The Punt at Echuca 174 Anigozanthos manglesii 59 Anigozanthos rufa 21 ant lions 47 antechinus 138–139 artists Angas, George French 170–171, 176–177

Atkinson, Louisa 136–139 Bauer, Ferdinand 48, 50 Gould, Elizabeth 164–169 Leseur, Charles-Alexandre 24–29 Lewin, John 156–163 Meredith, Louisa Anne 124–129 Parkinson, Sydney 35, 39–40 Port Jackson Painter 71 Rowan, Ellis 140–145 Watling, Thomas 68–72 Westall, William 49–50 Ash Island 130 Ashton, Julian 144 Asplenium flabellifolium 135 Atkinson, Charlotte Elizabeth Louisa (Atkinson) 139 Atkinson, Louisa 91, 136–139, 139 Spotted Pardalote, Scarlet Honeyeater, Superb Blue Wren and Striated Pardalote 137 Australian Lepidoptera 134 Australian Lepidoptera and Their Transformations Drawn from Life (Scott) 133 Australian Museum 65, 108, 114, 148, 176 Australian Water Mole: (Ornithorhynchus paradoxus) 64

B Baines, Thomas The North Australian Expedition Crossing the Wickham River, a Tributary of the Victoria River 120 Banks, Joseph 25, 31, 32–41, 33, 34 Banksia dentata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum dentatum, Endeavour River, Australia, 17 June–4 August 1770 36 Banksia ericifolia 36 Banksia integrifolia 37 Banksia serrata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum serratifolium, Botany Bay, Australia, 28

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April–6 May 1770 37 The Bark, Earl of Pembroke, Later Endeavour, Leaving Whitby Harbour in 1768 35 Bartlett, Felix P. 183 Bate, R.B. Surveying Instruments Used by Sir Thomas Mitchell during His Three Expeditions 1831–1846 96 Bathurst 6, 158, 173 Bathurst Plains 5 Bathurst Road 7 Baudin, Nicolas 24–26 Bauer, Ferdinand 48, 50 Platypus 50 Stewartia serrata 49 Bauera capita 54 Baugniet, Charles George French Angas 171 Beagle, HMS 42, 44, 47 Bennett, George 62–66, 63, 66, 114, 181, 183 Bethany (town) 173 Beveridge, Peter 183–184 Billardiera longiflora 128 birds 91, 166–167 see also individual species birds introduced to Britain 121 The Birds of Australia (Gould) 164, 169 The Birds of Europe (Gould) 164 Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike (Coracina novaehollandiae) 187 black swans 17, 18–19, 128, 129 Blake, William Staden A View of the Town of Sydney in the Colony of New South Wales Taken from the Rising Ground near the Court House on the West Side of the Cove 70–71 Blandowski, William 102–107 Aborigines of Australia, Corrobori or Native Festival 106 Blandowski’s Camp 103

Fishes Living in the River Murray … 104 Blindia robusta 122 Bodkin, John 184–185 Botany Bay 35 Boyd, Ben 78 Brierly, Oswald Walters H.M.S. Rattlesnake & Bramble Tender Commanded by Captain Owen Stanley R.N.: Finding an Entrance through the Reefs into the Louisiade Archipelago, S.E. Extreme, New Guinea, June 14th, 1849 78 Brown, Robert 48, 51, 54, 82 Buchan, Alexander 32, 38 bunyips 149–152 Burman, Nicolaas 19 Bush Friends in Tasmania (Meredith) 129 plate 1 125 butterflies 128, 130, 132, 132–133, 156, 160, 172, 176 Byrne, William A View of Endeavour River, on the Coast of New Holland, Where the Ship was Laid on Shore in Order to Repair the Damage which She Received on the Rock 39

C Cacatua leadbeateri leadbeateri 95 Cacatua sulphurea sulphurea 95 Cacatua sulpurea citrinocristata 95 Caldwell, William Hay 180–181, 185–186 Calvert, James S. 90, 91, 139 Calyptorhynchus lathami 179 Canu, Jean-Dominique-Etienne Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Dasyure à Longue Queue 29 Captain James Cook, Sir Joseph Banks, Lord Sandwich, Dr Daniel Solander and Dr John Hawkesworth 34 Captain James Cook F.R.S. 38 Carpobrotus edulis 22 Cato, the wreck of 54 cave paintings 52 Cayley, Neville Black Swan 128 Cazneaux, Harold Elizabeth Bay House 147 A Century of Birds from the Himalaya Mountains (Gould) 164 Ceratodus forsteri (Queensland lungfish) 77, 107, 113–115, 115, 185

Ceratopetalum gummiferum 126–127, 127 Charles Troedel & Co. Baron Ferd. von Mueller 119 Chasm Island, Native Cave Painting 52 Chelepteryx expolitus 132 Chloebia gouldiae 167 Choubard Mollusques et Zoophytes 28 Nouvelle-Hollande: Ile King, le Wombat 28 Nouvelle-Hollande: Nelle Galles du Sud (Ornithorhynque) 26 Citron-crested cockatoos 95 Cleveley, John Bauera capita Ser. 54 Clint, Raphael Map of the South and Eastern Parts of Australia 84, 98–99 Cloquet, Jean Baptiste Antoine Plan de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes 27 cockatiels iii cockatoos 95, 101, 179 Coequosa triangularis 132 collecting 6, 56–58, 78, 91, 105 animals 26 birds 19, 91, 166–167 insects 133 plants 13, 20, 22, 38, 51, 56, 82, 118, 122, 138 convicts 5, 68, 70, 72, 148 Convolvulus scoparus 16 Cook, James 32, 34, 38, 39 Cooper, William Thomas Major Mitchell’s Cockatoo (Cacatua leadbeateri leadbeateri); Citroncrested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea citrinocristata); Lesser Sulphur-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea sulphurea) 95 Coorong 175 Coracina novaehollandiae 187 Cox, James 114 Cross, Joseph Map of Part of New South Wales, Embellished with Views in the Harbours of Port Jackson 158 Cunningham, Allan 82–84, 83, 85–86 Cunningham, Richard 82, 85–86 Cunningham’s Monument, Botanic Gardens, Sydney 86 Cunningham’s skink 86

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Cygnet (ship) 10

D Dampier, William 10–19, 11 Capt. Dampier’s New Voyage to New Holland etc. in 1699 etc. 14 Dampiera linearis 12 Dampiera stricta 12, 15 Darling, Ralph 96 Darwin, Charles 42–47, 66, 166, 178 Darwin, Erasmus 42–43 Darwinia citriodora 143 de Vlamingh, Willem 16–19 Death Adder: Acanthophis antarctica 112 Description of the Barossa Range (Angas) 173 Dien, Claude-Marie-François Anigozanthus rufa 21 Eucalyptus globulus 23 Dietrich, Amalie 56–58 Diprotodon 101 Dog-headed Thylacine, or Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacinus cynocephalus) 134 Drayson, Nick 186 Drosera banksii 41 Drummond, Johnston 167 Dyer, Edmund Portrait of Captain William Dampier 11 dynamometer, use of 24–25

E Eades, Richard 105, 107 Earle, Augustus Emu, New South Wales 185 Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, New South Wales, No 1 112 Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, N.S. Wales, No 5 111 View from the Summit of Mount York, Looking towards Bathurst Plains, Convicts Breaking Stones, N.S. Wales 5 Eastern Grey Kangaroo (Macropus giganteus) 69 echidnas 180, 181, 186, 189 Echuca 174 Egernia cunninghamii 86 Elizabeth Bay House 146, 147, 148 Ellis, William View of Adventure Bay, Van Diemen’s Land, New Holland 40–41 Ellis Rowan Sketching Mary Moule Sitting on

the Ground 142 Emeu (ship) 65 emus 185 Endeavour, HM Bark 32, 34, 35, 38, 39 Epacris calvertiana 138 Erechtites atkinsoniae 138 Eremophila longifolia 123 L’Espérance (ship) 20 Eucalyptus banksii 41 Eucalyptus camaldulensis 121 Eucalyptus globulus 23, 145 Eucalyptus gracilis F.v. Mueller, Eucalyptus largiflorens F.v. Mueller 123 Eucalyptus largiflorens 123 Eulophocampe amaena 132 evolution 47, 66, 77 Exocarpos cupressiformis 21

F fairy penguins 169 Ferns: Hypolepis (sp.) Lawson; Gleichenia dicarpa Wentworth Falls; Asplenium flabellifolium Mount Victoria; Alsophila australis Katoomba 135 Ficus parkinsonii 41 Field, Barron 148 finches 146, 166, 167 fishes 104, 105, 107, 113–115 FitzRoy, Robert 42 Fletcher, Atholl 149 Flinders, Matthew 48 The Flying Fox (Pteropus poliocephalus) 131 Fois. Peron (Voyageur), Membre Correspondant de l’Institut 25 Forde, Edward 133 Forde, Helena 130, 133–134 Death Adder: Acanthophis antarctica 112 The Flying Fox (Pteropus poliocephalus) 131 see also Scott, Helena Form of Boat Procession to Convey the Remains of Rear Admiral King from North to South Shore on Saturday 1st March, 1856 84 Forster, Adam Goodia lotifolia 55 fossils 110–111 Fragmenta Phytographiae Australiae (Mueller) 121 fringe lilies 184

G A Ganoid Fish from Queensland (Ceratodus) 115 Gatherings (Bennett) 62, 65 Gaultheria hispida 128 geographic names 54 Geographical Memoirs (Field) 82 Geological Sketch of Wellington Valley 110 Gilbert, John 91–92, 167 memorial 93 Giles, James William Bethany, a Village of German Settlers at the Foot of the Barossa Hills 173 Scene of the Coorung near Lake Albert, with the Halmaturus greyii, a New Species of Kangaroo 175 Sea Mouth of the Murray 174 Gill, Samuel Thomas Cunningham’s Monument, Botanic Gardens, Sydney 86 Gleichenia dicarpa 135 glossy black cockatoo 179 gold deposits 76, 173 Gompholobium grandiflorum 73 Good, Peter 50, 54 Goodia lotifolia (Forster) 55 Gostelow, Ebenezer Edward The Gouldian Finch (Poëphila gouldiae) 167 Gould, Elizabeth 163–169, 165 Platycercus adelaidiae Gould 168 Podargus humeralis Vig. & Horsf. 169 Gould, John 91, 163–169, 165 Gouldian finches 167 Govett, William Romaine Major Mitchell Sketching the Entrance of the Caves in Wellington Valley, New South Wales 100 Gregory, A.C. 120 Grevillea banksii 41 guanos (reptiles) 13–14 Günther, Albert 114

H Haacke, Wilhelm 183 Hakea leucoptera Brown, Eremophila longifolia F.v. Mueller, Leptospermum laevigatum F.v. Mueller 123 Halmaturus greyii 175 Handbook to the Birds of Australia (Gould)

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169 Handsome Wedge Pea (Gompholobium grandiflorum) 73 Hawkesworth, John 34, 40 Henty, Edward 97 Herald, HMS 77, 78 herbaria 56 Fielding-Druce (Oxford) 15 Melbourne 121 Hesperia coreeba, Pamphila palmarum 135 Hibbertia cunninghamia, Agrostocrinum, W. Australia 87 Hibbertia cunninghamii 12 H.M.S. Rattlesnake & Bramble Tender Commanded by Captain Owen Stanley R.N.: Finding an Entrance through the Reefs into the Louisiade Archipelago, S.E. Extreme, New Guinea, June 14th, 1849 78 H.M.S. Rattlesnake off the Australian Coast 76 Hobler, George 149, 150 Hormosira banksii 41 Hovell, William 149, 150 Hughes, R. Banksia ericifolia 36 Hunter, John 72 Eastern Grey Kangaroo (Macropus giganteus) 69 Handsome Wedge Pea (Gompholobium grandiflorum) 73 Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) 73 Huxley, Thomas Henry 74–78, 77, 178 Self Portrait 75 Hypolepis (sp.) 135

I Illustrated Natural History of the Colony of Victoria (Blandowski) 102 insects 57, 125, 126, 130, 132–133, 156 see also butterflies inventions canvas waterbags 94 ships’ propellers 94 water pump 102 by William Caldwell 186 Investigator, HMS 48, 51

J jellyfish 28, 76 Journal of a Voyage to New South Wales (White) 68, 71

K The Kafirs Illustrated (Angas) 173 A Kangaroo Hunt 180 kangaroos 38–39, 39, 69, 101, 163, 175, 180 kine pratie see bunyips King, Philip Gidley 25–26 King, Phillip Parker 82 King George’s Sound, View from the NorthWest 52 kookaburras 66, 67, 73 Krefft, Gerard 7, 101, 105, 108–111, 109, 113–114, 115, 185

L La Billardière, Jacques 20–22 La Pérouse, Jean-François de Galaup 20 Lady Eglington (ship) 94 Lambert, Aine Mollusques et Zoophytes 28 land grants 153, 159 Laughing Kookaburra 67 Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae) 73 Lear, Edward Palaeornis novae-hollandiae, New Holland Parrakeet, in the Possession of the Right Hon. the Countess of Mountcharles iii Leichhardt, Ludwig 88–93, 89, 92 Leichhardt from a Portrait Taken by One of the Explorists from Moreton Bay to Swan River 92 Leichhardt’s Expedition (group portrait) 90 Lepidoptera 128, 130, 132, 132–133, 156, 160, 172, 176 Leptospermum laevigatum 123 Lesueur, Charles-Alexandre 24–29, 25 Mollusques et Zoophytes 28 Nouvelle-Hollande: Ile King, le Wombat 28 Nouvelle-Hollande: Nelle Galles du Sud (Ornithorhynque) 26 Leucadendrum dentatum 36 Leucadendrum serratifolium 37 Lewin, Anna Maria 162 Lewin, John 156–163

Lepidoptera 160 Lyrebird of Australia 161 A Native Chief of Baturst 161 New Holland Honeyeater (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae) and Sour Currant Bush (Leptomeria acida) 157 The Plains, Bathurst 158 Two Kangaroos in Landscape 163 View in Tahiti 159 Lewinia pectoralis 162 Lewin’s honeyeater 162 Lewin’s rail 162 Lighthouse, Port Jackson 46 Liversidge, Archibald 181 Lomatia 141 Ludwig, Albert Carl A Ganoid Fish from Queensland (Ceratodus) 115 Luny, Thomas The Bark, Earl of Pembroke, Later Endeavour, Leaving Whitby Harbour in 1768 35 lyrebirds 161

M Macfarlane, J. Meeting of Major Mitchell and Edward Henty, Portland Bay, 1836 97 Macgillivray, John 74–78, 75 New Shells 79 MacKenzie, Daniel Banksia dentata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum dentatum, Endeavour River Australia, 17 June–4 August 1770 36 Macleay, William Sharp 114, 146–153 Macleay Museum 146, 148–149 Macquarie, Lachlan 162 Macrozamia riedlei (Zamia palm) 17–18 Maguire, Thomas Herbert Portrait of John Gould, Ornithologist 165 Major Mitchell’s cockatoo 101 Major Mitchell Sketching the Entrance of the Caves in Wellington Valley, New South Wales 100 Major Mitchell’s Cockatoo (Cacatua leadbeateri leadbeateri); Citroncrested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea citrinocristata); Lesser Sulphur-crested Cockatoo (Cacatua sulphurea sulphurea) 95 malaria prevention with Eucalyptus 121 mallee scrub 175

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malleefowl mound 175 Mammals of Australia (Gould) 169 Mangles, James 58 Manorina melanocephala 182 Map of the South and Eastern Parts of Australia 84, 98–99 maps Dampier’s Voyage to New Holland 14 Darling Harbour to Elizabeth Bay 153 New South Wales 158 south and eastern Australia 83, 98–99 Sydney 27 Wellington Caves 111 Wellington Valley 110 Western Australia coast 18–19 Marsupial, ‘Flying Squirrel or Mouse’ 72 marsupial lion 152 Martens, Conrad On the Bathurst Road 7 From the Currajong above the Douglass’ Farm 138 Elizabeth Bay, Port Jackson 148 The Lighthouse, Port Jackson 46 Sydney Harbour 45, 126 Valparaiso, Novr 12, ‘34, Quebrada Elios 46 View of Sydney 150–151 Mary (ship) 85 Mason, Walter G. The Echidna, or Porcupine Ant Eater 180 McComish, Ida Dampiera stricta, Botany Bay, New South Wales 12 McCoy, Frederick 105 medical practitioners Bennett, George 65 Huxley, Thomas Henry 74 White, Charles 68, 72 Meeting of Major Mitchell and Edward Henty, Portland Bay, 1836 97 Melbourne Botanic Gardens 121 Meliphaga lewinii 162 Melville, Harden Sidney Victoria Square, Port Essington 90 Memorial to John Gilbert at Drake’s Ford, W.A. 93 Meredith, Charles 124, 129 Meredith, Louisa Anne 124–129 Emerald King Butterfly, White Cluster (Gualtheria (Gaultheria) hispida), Purple

Berry (Billardiera longiflora) 128 The Romance of Nature, or, the Flower Seasons Illustrated 127 Mermaid (ship) 82 Mitchell, Thomas 85, 88, 94, 96–97, 100–101 Cockatoo from the Interior of Australia 101 Geological Sketch of Wellington Valley 110 Section and Groundplot of Two Caverns at Wellington Valley 111 Sketch of the Coast from Darling Harbour to Elizabeth Bay Showing the Grants to Mr Macleay and Six Other Gentlemen 153 Mitchell grass plains 101 Mollusques et Zoophytes 28 mongooses 113 monotreme reproduction 180–181, 183–186 Mortimer, John Hamilton Captain James Cook, Sir Joseph Banks, Lord Sandwich, Dr Daniel Solander and Dr John Hawkesworth 34 Moseley, Henry 181 Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, New South Wales, No 1 112 Mosman’s Cave, Wellington Valley, N.S. Wales, No 5 111 Mount Morgan wattle 142 Mount Westall, View South-East 50 Mueller, Ferdinand, Baron von 118–122, 119, 138, 143 Mulloy, Georgiana 56, 57, 58 Murphy, John 90, 91 Murray, Neil Wide and Level Mitchell Grass Plain Spreads away from the Rugged MacDonnell Ranges on Hamilton Downs Station, Rich Cattle Country, Some 50 Miles West of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory 1954 101 Murray River 174 Myrmecobius fasciatus Gould 3, 166

N names of animals 177 of birds 162, 167 of fishes 105, 107 of fossils 113 geographic 47, 54 of plants 41, 58, 86, 138 Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S.

Rattlesnake (Macgillivray) 77 National Museum of Natural History (Melbourne) 104–105, 108 Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales (Lewin) 160 naturalists skills and motivation 4–7, 20, 24, 42, 88 Needhamiella pumilio 12 Neoceratodus see Ceratodus forsteri New Guinea 144 New Holland honeyeater 157 New Holland parrakeets iii New Shells 79 New South Wales (map) 158 The New Zealanders Illustrated (Angas) 170, 173 noisy miners 182 North Australian Expedition 118, 120 The North Australian Expedition Crossing the Wickham River, a Tributary of the Victoria River 120 Notes and Sketches of New South Wales (Meredith) 127 Nouvelle-Hollande: Ile King, le Wombat 28 Nouvelle-Hollande: Nelle Galles du Sud (Ornithorhynque) 26 Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud. Dasyure à Longue Queue 29 Nouvelle-Hollande, Nouvelle Galles du Sud, Vue de la Partie Meridionale de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes et de l’Embouchure de la Riviere de Parramatta 1803 27 Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud Dessins Exécutés par les Naturels 27 numbats 3, 166

O Olearia myrsinoides 21 Olearia ramulosa 21 Onslow, Arthur 114 The Origin of Species (Darwin) 47 Owen, Richard 62, 64, 65, 101, 152, 178

P Palaeornis novae-hollandiae, New Holland Parrakeet, in the Possession of the Right Hon. the Countess of Mountcharles iii Pamphila palmarum 135 Parkinson, Sydney 35, 39 Banksia dentata Linnaeus f.,

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Leucadendrum dentatum, Endeavour River, Australia, 17 June–4 August 1770 36 Banksia ericifolia 36 Banksia integrifolia 37 Banksia serrata Linnaeus f., Leucadendrum serratifolium, Botany Bay, Australia, 28 April–6 May 1770 37 disputes over artwork 40 Parsee (ship) 91 Peince Ellis Rowan Sketching Mary Moule Sitting on the Ground 142 Pelorus, HMS 91 Pérée, Jacques Louis Cigne Noir du Cap de Diemen 17 Péron, François 24–29, 25 Phascolomys latifrons 176–177 Phillip, Arthur 68 Phillips, Thomas Portrait of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart., President of the Royal Society 33 Philosophical Society 105, 107 philosophical ‘truth’ and the swan 19 Phylidonyris novaehollandiae 157 Picken, Thomas View of Sydney 150–151 Pillement, Victor Nouvelle-Hollande, Nouvelle Galles du Sud, Vue de la Partie Meridionale de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes et de l’Embouchure de la Riviere de Parramatta 1803 27 Piper banksii 41 Plan de la Ville de Sydney, Capitale des Colonies Anglaises aux Terres Australes 27 Plaque of Captain James Cook 34 Platycercus adelaidiae Gould 168 platypuses 26, 44, 50, 62, 64–65, 183, 189 Podargus humeralis Vig. & Horsf. 169 Porpoise (ship) 159 the wreck of 51, 54 Port Essington 90, 92 Port Jackson (map) 158 Port Jackson Painter 71 Marsupial, ‘Flying Squirrel or Mouse’ 72 portraits Angas, George French 171 Atkinson, Louisa 139 Banks, Joseph 33

Bennett, George 63, 66 Calvert, James S. 90 Cook, James 34, 38 Cunningham, Allan 83 Dampier, William 11 Huxley, T.H. 77 Huxley, Thomas Henry 75 Krefft, Gerard 109 Leichhardt, Ludwig 89, 92 Lesueur, C.A. 25 Macgillivray, John 75 Mulloy, Georgiana 57 Murphy, John 90 Péron, François 25 Roper, John 90 Westall, William 49 The Prince Alfred Ray, Ceratoptera alfredi, Gerard Krefft 115 Prodromus Entomology, Natural History of Lepidopterous Insects of New South Wales (Lewin) 156 protests against purchase of Rowan’s work 144 against Rowan’s art prize 142–143

Q Queensland lungfish 77, 107, 113–115, 115, 185 Queensland silver wattle 142 quokkas (Setonix brachyurus) 16 quolls 29

R A Ramble in Malta and Sicily in the Autumn of 1841 (Angas) 170 Ranken, George 100 Raper, George Black-faced Cuckoo-shrike (Coracina novaehollandiae) 187 Fringe Lily (Thysanotus tuberosus) 184 Glossy Black Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus lathami) with Macrozamia Species 179 Laughing Kookaburra 67 Noisy Miner (Manorina melanocephala) with Wax-lipped Orchid (Glossodia major) Left 182 Rattlesnake, HMS 74–76, 76 Recherche (ship) 20 Redoute, Pierre Joseph Anigozanthos rufa 21 Eucalyptus globulus 23

reproduction in marsupials 183–185 reproduction in monotremes 180–181, 183, 185 reptiles 7, 13–14, 53, 57, 69, 86, 111–113 Riche, Claude 20, 22 Richter, H.C. Myrmecobius fasciatus Gould 3, 166 Spheniscus undina Gould, Fairy Penguin 169 river red gums 121 Roebuck, HMS 10, 15 the wreck of 15 The Romance of Nature, or, the Flower Seasons Illustrated (Meredith) 124, 127 Roper, John 90 Rosemary Island 13 rosewood 16 Rottnest Island 16 Rowan, Ellis 140–145, 142 Acacia podalyriifolia, A. Cunn ex G. Don, Family Fabaceae, Mount Morgan Wattle or the Queensland Silver Wattle, Queensland 144 Anigozanthos manglesii 59 Dampiera linearis, Needhamiella pumilio, Agrostcrinum scabrum, Hibbertia cunninghamii, Sphaerolobium 12 Dampiera stricta 15 Darwinia citriodora 143 Eucalyptus globulus 145 Eucalyptus gracilis F.v. Mueller, Eucalyptus largiflorens F.v. Mueller 123 Exocarpos cupressiformis Labill., Olearea myrsinoides (Labill.) F. Muell. ex Benth., Olearea ramulosa (Labill.) Benth. the Twiggy Daisy-bush, Veronica derwentiana Andrews 21 Hakea leucoptera Brown, Eremophila longifolia F.v. Mueller, Leptospermum laevigatum F.v. Mueller 123 Hibbertia cunninghamia, Agrostocrinum, W. Australia 87 Lomatia 141 Rowan, Frederic 140, 143

S Sandwich, John Montagu (Lord) 34 Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand (Angas) 173 scarlet honeyeater 137 Schiavonetti, Nicholas Portrait of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart.,

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President of the Royal Society 33 scientific specimens as food 13–14, 32, 39 Scott, Alexander 114, 130, 133 Scott, Harriet 130, 133 Chelepteryx expolitus, Eulophocampe amaena 132 Dog-headed Thylacine, or Tasmanian Tiger (Thylacinus cynocephalus) 134 Ferns: Hypolepis (sp.) Lawson; Gleichenia dicarpa Wentworth Falls; Asplenium flabellifolium Mount Victoria; Alsophila australis Katoomba 135 Scott, Helena Coequosa triangularis 132 Hesperia coreeba, Pamphila palmarum 135 see also Forde, Helena Section and Groundplot of Two Caverns at Wellington Valley 111 Self-portrait of William Westall 49 Setonix brachyurus (quokkas) 16 sharks 14 shells 64, 78, 79 ships Cato 54 Cygnet 10 L’Espérance 20 HM Bark Endeavour 32, 34, 35, 39 HMS Beagle 42, 44, 47 HMS Herald 77, 78 HMS Investigator 48, 51 HMS Pelorus 91 HMS Rattlesnake 74–76, 76, 78 HMS Roebuck 10, 15 Lady Eglington 94 Mary 85 Mermaid 82 Parsee 91 Pitt 70 Porpoise 51, 54, 159 Recherche 20 Royal Admiral 70 Sovereign 88 ships’ propellers 94 Six Views of the Gold Field at Ophir (Angas) 173 Skink 69 skull of ‘bunyip’ 149, 149–152 skull of ‘cyclops’ 152 Smith, Gabriel Banksia serrata Linnaeus f.,

Leucadendrum serratifolium, Botany Bay, Australia, 28 April–6 May 1770 37 Smith Hill, Edward 114 snakes 7, 53, 111–113 Solander, Daniel 34 South Australia Illustrated (Angas) 170 Sovereign (ship) 88 Sphaerolobium 12 Spheniscus undina Gould, Fairy Penguin 169 spiders 56–57 Spotted Pardalote, Scarlet Honeyeater, Superb Blue Wren and Striated Pardalote 137 Stewartia serrata 49 Strange, Frederick 167 striated pardalote 137 Sturt’s Desert Pea (Swainsona formosa) 13 sulphur-crested cockatoos 95 superb blue wren 137 surveying 96 Surveying Instruments Used by Sir Thomas Mitchell during His Three Expeditions 1831–1846 96 Swainson, William 130 Swainsona formosa 13 Swan River 16, 17 Sydney 27, 42–44, 70–71, 150–151 Sydney Harbour 43, 45 Synaphea spinulosa 19

T Tahiti 159 Tardieu, Ambroise Fois. Péron (Voyageur), Membre Correspondant de l’Institut 25 Tasmanian tigers 134 Tasmania’s Friends and Foes 127 tawny frogmouths 169 Testard, François Martin Nouvelle-Hollande: Nouvelle Galles du Sud Dessins Exécutés par les Naturels 27 Thistle Island, a Snake 53 thylacines 134 Thysanotus tuberosus 184 Toolache wallaby 175 travel books 124, 126–127, 173

V Valparaiso, Novr 12, ‘34, Quebrada Elios 46 van Keulen, Gerard T Zuijd land ontdeckt door Willem

de Vlamingh in de Maande van Jan an Febrii 1697 met t Yagt de Geelvink de Hooker de Nyptang ent Galjoot ‘t Weseltje 18–19 Veronica derwentiana 21 Victoria Square, Port Essington 90 Victorian Society of Artists 142–143 View of Adventure Bay, Van Diemen’s Land, New Holland 40–41 A View of Endeavour River, on the Coast of New Holland, Where the Ship was Laid on Shore in Order to Repair the Damage which She Received on the Rock 39 View of Sydney Harbour from the Domain 43 A View of the Town of Sydney in the Colony of New South Wales Taken from the Rising Ground near the Court House on the West Side of the Cove 70–71 Views on the East Coast of Australia 53 A Voice from the Country (Atkinson) 138

Domain 43 White, Charles Banksia integrifolia 37 White, John 68, 70–72 White cluster (Gaultheria hispida) 128 Wide and Level Mitchell Grass Plain Spreads away from the Rugged MacDonnell Ranges on Hamilton Downs Station, Rich Cattle Country, Some 50 Miles West of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory 1954 101 Wilson, Edward 121 Wing, William South Australian Lepidoptera 172 wombats 28, 176–177 Woolls, William 138 Wreck of the Porpoise, Flinders Expedition 51

Y Yattagolinga 177

Z

W Walker, Anna Frances Ceratopetalum gummiferum Sm. 127 Waratah Rhymes (Meredith) 129 waterbags 94 Watling, Thomas 68–72 Skink 69 A View of the Town of Sydney in the Colony of New South Wales Taken from the Rising Ground near the Court House on the West Side of the Cove 70–71 Wedgewood, Josiah Wedgewood medallion from Sydney Cove clay 45 Wedgewood, Josiah, & Sons Ltd Plaque of Captain James Cook 34 Wellington Caves fossils 100–101, 110–111 Wellington Valley 100, 110–111 Westall, William 49–50 Chasm Island, Native Cave Painting 52 King George’s Sound, View from the North-West 52 Mount Westall, View South-East 50 Self-portrait of William Westall 49 Thistle Island, a Snake 53 Views on the East Coast of Australia 53 Wreck of the Porpoise, Flinders Expedition 51 Westmacott, Robert Marsh View of Sydney Harbour from the

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Zamia palm (Macrozamia riedlei) 17

Published by the National Library of Australia Canberra ACT 2600 © National Library of Australia 2012 Text © Peter Macinnis Foreword © Emeritus Professor R.W. Home, AM Books published by the National Library of Australia further the Library’s objectives to interpret and highlight the Library’s collections and to support the creative work of the nation’s writers and researchers. This book is copyright in all countries subscribing to the Berne Convention. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher. The views expressed in this book are those of the individual author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors or the publisher. National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry Author: Macinnis, P. (Peter) Title: Curious minds : the discoveries of Australian naturalists / Peter Macinnis. ISBN: 9780642277541 (pbk.) Notes: Includes bibliographical references and index. Subjects: Natural history--Australia. Naturalists--Australia. Other Authors/ Contributors: National Library of Australia. Dewey Number: 508.94 Commissioning Publisher: Susan Hall Editors: Susan Shortridge and Emma Gregory Designers: Philip Banks and Natalie Webb Image Coordinators: Felicity Harmey and Jemma Posch Photography of Library collection images: Digitisation and Photography Branch Research Assistance: Yvonne Byron Production: Melissa Bush Index: Sandra Henderson Printed and bound in Singapore by Imago Editor’s Note In this book, scientific names and other spellings in quoted material and captions have been reproduced as they appear in the original texts. In some instances, we have provided the correct modern name in parentheses. Other errors in grammar or spelling have not been changed.

Front cover: p. 78 (full caption p. 203), p. 95 (full caption p. 203), p. 165 (full caption p. 205), p. 14 (full caption p. 200), p. 37 (full caption p. 201) and

Italics have occasionally been added in quoted material for clarity.

Louisa Anne Meredith (1812–1895) Native Wildflowers Including Sturt’s Desert Pea, Christmas Bell c.1840 watercolour and pencil drawing; 34.8 x 11.3 cm Pictures Collection: nla.pic-an5487509

A full list of references can be viewed at: www.nla.gov.au/pub/curious-minds/

Back cover: p. 98 (full caption p. 203), p. 141 (full caption p. 205), p. 169 (full caption p. 205), p. 160 (full caption p. 205)