Aboriginal camps, drunken Brits, and other marvels: Carl von Hügel in Swan River, 1833 (Part 2)

Almost exactly one hundred and eighty years ago, Austrian nobleman and plant collector Carl von Hügel woke up in Fremantle for his first day of exploration. In the early morning cool of the 28^th November, 1833, he ‘roamed the countryside’ before a hasty breakfast, spending ‘just enough time there to savour the pleasure, long missed, of coffee with cream, fresh bread and butter’. Then he wandered inland, finding ‘many a beautiful spot and as great a diversity of plants as I could have wished.’ For lunch, he ‘partook of a piece of very ordinary cheese and a glass of brandy’, and then continued on his way until evening.

Having decided before reaching Swan River that he would stop keeping his diary, on arrival von Hügel changed his mind, reasoning that ‘here of all places’ where ‘both the natives and the immigrants are equally unfamiliar to us … my own experiences and observations might be of particular interest.’ He wrote about the British settlers, the natural wonders he encountered, and of course, the Nyoongar, still living in traditional camps across and beyond the colony. He indulged in the usual fantasies about Aboriginal social life – such as marriage, childcare, ‘no thought for the future’ and so on – based mostly on speculation.

With sympathy, he described the history of engagement between the first white settlers and the ‘peaceably disposed’ band of thirty or forty Aboriginal men and considerably fewer women. ‘However two men Jäger (Yagan) and Mijijerao (Midgegooroo) were especially active and excelled in throwing spears. Unfortunately these good relations did not last long.’ The settlers had arrived in winter, when Aborigines depended more than ever on hunting. So a night-time storehouse raid marked the end of friendly relations. Further violence followed, until eventually the Government organised a ‘daily distribution of grain’, of which von Hügel observed, ‘not only wisdom and humanity required that this be done, but justice itself.’ Already, however, the Nyoongar completely avoided Fremantle, where fatal collisions were fresh in everyone’s memory.

Otherwise, new arrivals and Nyoongar still shared the space that became Perth, before the Aboriginal people were displaced. On the 2^nd of December, for example, he noted a ‘large number of Aborigines walking through Perth to collect their daily ration at a particular spot near Mount Eliza.’ They all understood some English. ‘They greet all Europeans in a most friendly manner and are far less mistrustful than I had expected.’ He welcomed encounters with the Nyoongar, telling how, ‘by chance I walked past one of their camps’, protected against the wind by screens woven from twigs and bark. He asked them to show him how they threw the spear, made from peeled shoots of what might have been Melaleuca rhaphiophylla Schauer, or Swamp paperbark, ‘simply sharpened at one end and slightly hollowed out at the thick end’. He wanted to give them something but found he had no money, so promised them something another day, ‘but then returned and took them with me to my lodgings and gave them some bread.’

Despite his own pleasant exchanges, Von Hügel found the close physical proximity between black and white an omnipresent threat.  When visiting the Bull’s farm, fifty miles up the Swan toward the Darling Range, he witnessed Mrs Bull, a ‘pretty young wife’, standing ‘by a ground-floor window looking out into the open country’. Suddenly a Nyoongar man,

‘came up to the window and stroked her cheeks with both hands. Greatly alarmed, she sprang back into the middle of the room amid the loud laughter of those present. But I myself was saddened by the thought that, for at least one whole generation to come, the hard-working settlers in the interior will be entirely dependent on the goodwill of the Aborigines; that is, for that length of time they will still have it in their power to destroy hearth and home and every living thing.’

For von Hügel the heat was intolerable, the sand with its black residue (from the Aboriginal fire regime) troublesome, and the flies unbearable (‘Moses could have visited them upon Pharaoh with the greatest success’), but he simply adored the plant life: on Monday 2^nd December he ‘set out to walk to Mt Eliza’ (the peak of today’s King’s Park and still the most popular tourist vantage) but did not make much headway as ‘there was so much that was beautiful and new to me.’

Contrasting with these fascinating people and landscapes were the British, whom the noble – and Catholic – Austrian did not like very much. Von Hügel was very critical of the British government, for example, which he felt had inadequately equipped the first white settlers, especially lacking food for the first hungry years. He described the ‘heterogenous’ population attracted to Swan River, with delusions of finding ‘roast pigeons’ sitting ‘waiting in trees’. One settler arrived ‘claiming 335 square miles by virtue of the goods and personnel he had brought with him. Others came with carriages of all sorts, pianos and harps and sumptuous wardrobes from the most exclusive fashion houses for their growing daughters.’ He pictured their reactions to the ‘gloomy landscape’, abandoned without shelter on their first night, and tormented by cold, wind and rain. ‘The courage of most of the new arrivals sank and instead of working, most of them lay weeping on the seashore, anticipating the ruin of their possessions as well as of their hopes.’

He was especially caustic about Post-Captain William Townsend Dance, given an independent command to assist the colony at his discretion. Instead of assisting Governor, Captain James Stirling, claimed von Hügel, instead Dance ‘employed his men in building a good house and establishing a garden for himself. He watched the trading vessels run aground in Gage Roads without taking any steps towards finding another anchorage.’ While the colony starved, the Dances holed up on Garden Island, eating their own provisions and ignoring the plight of the settlers.

Although accustomed to the heat of India, he noted on 3^rd December that he found Perth more oppressive – but this was perhaps because he had accidentally drunk a mixture of brandy and gin for breakfast – rather than brandy mixed with water, as was his custom: ‘Being exceedingly thirsty, it was only after I had swallowed a few mouthfuls that I noticed the mistake.’ Despite his own liking for brandy, von Hügel was disapproving of English habits, claiming that ‘The only thing standing between the English and their rapid progress toward world domination is the fascination alcoholic beverages hold for them. This is where the high wages of their lower classes go, without exception, and this is where the larger portion of the high salaries (high in comparison with the Continent) of their upper classes go.’ On the other hand, he argued that this made them capable of enduring long expeditions, where ‘every man had his bottle of brandy or claret, to compensate him for all other joys of life.’

Calling upon Lieutenant Governor Captain Daniel, they caught him in the act of pouring himself some ginger beer, and ‘even without being a qualified physiognomist, it was not difficult to conclude, from his shiny red nose and ditto cheeks, that Captain Daniel himself fully appreciated the charms of this and other spirituous beverages.’ At an official dinner Daniel became so incapable that he ‘fell flat to the floor’ and von Hügel concluded that ‘he is said to be a splendid soldier and wears a medal, but alas this type often turns out to be useless in peacetime.’ He argued for the need of convict immigrants to perform necessary labour, suggesting that while it might be repugnant to share one’s house with a felon, it was better than most of the lazy British who, ‘having led an indolent life in England, emigrate[d] solely to find greater opportunities for drinking’.

On Thursday 19^th December von Hügel left Swan River, and sailed south on the Alligator. They had hoped to spend Christmas in Albany, but had so much trouble with contrary winds and currents that they barely sighted Cape Leeuwin before having to stand off the coast again. Christmas and every significant day in the calendar made von Hügel miserable, reminding him of his far-away loved ones and his present loneliness. Musing on the colony he had left behind, he wondered (like others more recently) ‘to what extent this settlement has hastened the transformation of New Holland as a whole into a powerful, independent nation’ – but decided that it was an unanswerable question and would take ‘hundreds of years’ to establish. In the meantime, he summed up his Western Australian acquaintance, somewhat grudgingly perhaps, as ‘good, energetic individuals’, whose hard work and strength of character had won his respect and liking.