AUSTRALIA--_Concluded_
ARCHITECTURE AND BOAT-BUILDING.
PARALLEL BETWEEN THE BOSJESMAN AND THE AUSTRALIAN -- MODES OF
BUILDING HUTS -- A SUMMER ENCAMPMENT -- RUDE NATURE OF THE HUTS
-- RETREATS OF THE WOMEN -- BONE HUTS OF ENCOUNTER BAY -- WINTER
HOUSES -- HUTS NEAR THE COORUNG -- FIRE-MAKING -- BIRD-SNARING -- A
SELF-ACTING SNARE -- BOAT-BUILDING -- USES OF THE STRINGY BARK -- A
FRAIL VESSEL -- CANOE FOR GENERAL USE -- THE REED CANOE -- GRADUAL
EXTINCTION OF NATIVE TRIBES.
In many points the Australian savage bears a curious resemblance to the
Bosjesman of Southern Africa, of whom a full account has already been
given at 242-268 page.
So similar, indeed, are they, that the colonists use the word Bushman
to designate the native savage, just as they call the spotted dasyure
by the name of cat, and the wombat by that of badger. Much confusion
has consequently arisen; and there is now before me a book descriptive
of savage life, in which the author has mixed up the Bosjesman of
Africa and the Bushman of Australia in the most amusing manner,
actually transplanting a quotation from a book of African travels into
the account of Australia.
Like the Bosjesman, the Australian depends upon his weapons for the
greater part of his food, living almost entirely upon the game which he
kills, and being skilled in the art of destroying the wariest and most
active of animals with the simplest of weapons. He lives in a state of
perpetual feud, his quarrels not being worthy of the name of warfare;
and his _beau idéal_ of a warrior is a man who steals upon his enemy by
craft, and kills his foe without danger to himself.
He cultivates no land, neither has he the least notion of improving his
social condition. He cares nothing for clothes, except, perhaps, as a
partial shelter from the elements, and utterly ridicules the notion
that there is any connexion between clothing and modesty.
Indeed, on one occasion, when a girl had been presented with a
petticoat by a white lady, and returned to her people, displaying with
pride her newly acquired property, her companions instead of displaying
envy at her finery, only jeered at her, inquiring whether she thought
herself so much better than her forefathers, that she should want to
wear clothes like the white strangers. The consequence was, that in a
day or two the solitary garment was thrown aside, and she walked about
as before, in the primitive accoutrements of her tribe.
Like the African Bosjesman, the Australian native has no settled home,
although he considers himself as having a right to the district in
which his tribe have taken up their abode. Contrary to the usage of
civilized life, he is sensitive on the general question, and careless
in detail. With civilized beings the hearth and home take the first
place in the affections, the love of country being merely an extension
of the love of home. With the Australian, however, as well as the
Bosjesman, the case is just reversed. He has no home, and cares not for
any one spot more than another, except that some spots are sheltered
and others exposed. He passes a semi-nomad existence, not unlike that
of the Arab, save that instead of pitching his tent on a convenient
spot, and taking it away when he leaves it, he does not trouble himself
even to carry the simple materials of a tent, but builds a rude hut in
any spot which he may happen to fancy, and leaves it to decay when he
forsakes the spot.
The chief object of the ordinary hut made by an Australian savage is
to defend the inmates from the cold south-west breezes. Consequently,
the entrances of the huts may be found, as a rule, turned toward the
north-east, whence come the warm winds that have passed over the
equator.
The summer encampment (see page 787) of an Australian family is
very simple. A number of leafy boughs are stuck in the ground in a
semicircular form, the size of the enclosed space varying with the
number of the family. These boughs are seldom more than four feet in
height, and often scarcely exceed a yard, their only object being to
keep off the wind from the fire, and from the bodies of the natives as
they squat round the flame or lie asleep. That any one should expect
a shelter while he is standing never seems to enter the imagination
of an Australian savage, who, like other savages, never dreams of
standing when he can sit, or, indeed, of taking any trouble that is not
absolutely necessary.
All the stories that are told of the industry of savage life are pure
inventions, and if labor be, as we are often told, the truest nobility,
we ought to hear no more of the “noble savage.” Consistently with this
idea, the native Australian’s only idea of the hut is a place where
he can sit and gorge himself with food, and lie down to sleep after
his enormous meal. A fence a yard in height is therefore quite good
enough for him, and, as long as no rain falls, he thinks a roof to be a
needless expenditure of labor.
In the illustration referred to we have an example of an encampment
on which the natives have bestowed rather more care than usual, and
have actually taken the pains to form the branches into rude huts. The
spears, shields, and other weapons of the natives are seen scattered
about, while round the fire sit or lie the men who have satisfied their
hunger. The reader will perceive that from a little distance such an
encampment would be almost invisible; and, indeed, except by the thin
smoke of the fire, the most practised eye can scarcely detect the spot
where natives are encamping. Even the spears which project above the
bush huts look at a little distance merely like dried sticks; and, if
the inhabitants be very anxious to escape observation, they establish
their encampment in a retired spot, where the surrounding objects
harmonize as closely as possible with the rude shelter which answers
all their needs.
In many places the natives construct a habitation similar in principle,
but differing in structure. Should the locality abound in the
eucalypytus, or stringy-bark tree, the natives make a hut altogether
different in appearance. With wonderful dexterity, they strip off the
bark of the tree in large flakes, six or seven feet in length. A few
large branches of trees are then laid on the ground, so that they form
a rough sort of framework, and upon these branches the flakes of bark
are laid. An hour’s labor will make one of these huts, so that the
natives have really no inducement to take any care of them. Even the
very best hut which a native Australian ever made would be inferior to
the handiwork of an English boy of ten years old. For my own part, I
remember building far better huts than those of the Australians, though
I was at the time much below ten years of age, and had gained all my
knowledge of practical architecture from “Sandford and Merton.”
There is, however, one great advantage in these bark huts--namely,
the rapidity with which they can be made, and the shelter which they
really do give from the traveller’s great enemy, the night wind. Even
European travellers have been glad to avail themselves of these simple
structures, and have appreciated the invaluable aid of a few sheets
of bark propped against a fallen branch. Those who have been forced
to travel without tents through a houseless country have learned by
experience that the very best shelter from the night winds is not
height, but width. A tree, for example, forms but a very poor shelter,
while a low wall barely eighteen inches high and six feet in length
keeps off the wind, and enables the wearied traveller to rest in
comparative comfort. Such a shelter is easily made from the sheets
of stringy bark, one or two of which will form a shelter for several
sleepers.
Perhaps the simplest huts that human beings ever dignified by the name
of habitation are those which are made by the women of a tribe when the
men are away. It sometimes happens that the whole of the adult males
go off on an expedition which will last for a considerable time--such,
for example, as a raid upon a neighboring tribe--leaving the women and
children to take care of themselves. These, knowing that they might
be pounced upon by enemies who would take advantage of the absence of
their defenders, retire into the recesses of the woods, where they
build the oddest houses imaginable, half burrows scraped among the
roots of trees, and half huts made of bark and decayed wood. These
habitations are so inconspicuous that even the practised eye of the
native can scarcely discover them.
On the shores of Encounter Bay may be seen some very curious
habitations. Every now and then a whale is thrown ashore by a tempest;
and in such a case the tribes of the neighborhood flock round it with
great rejoicings, seeing in it an unlimited supply of food. Huge as
the animal may be, it is ere long consumed, and nothing left but the
skeleton. Of the bones the natives make the framework of their huts,
the ends of the ribs being fixed in the ground, so that the bones form
the supports of the arched roof, which is nothing more than boughs,
grass, and matting thrown almost at random upon the bony framework.
During the winter time the native huts are of better construction,
although the best hut that an Australian ever made is but a very rude
and primitive specimen of architecture. These winter huts are made on
the same principle as those employed in summer, but the materials are
more closely put together. The framework of these huts is made by
sticking a number of saplings in the ground, and tying them together.
Smaller branches and twigs are then passed in and out of the uprights,
and pressed down to make a tolerably firm wall. Over the wall comes a
layer of large leaves, and an outer covering of tea-tree bark is placed
over the trees, and held in its place by a lashing of rattan. These
houses are about five feet in height, and have an arched opening just
large enough for a man to enter on his hands and knees.
Such huts as these, however, are but seldom seen, the ordinary winter
dwellings being made of bushes, as seen in an illustration on the next
page. Near the entrance, but not within it, the fire is kindled, and
at night the natives crowd into the hut, filling it so completely that
a view of the interior displays nothing but a confused mass of human
limbs. The reader will perceive that the luxury of a door has not been
contemplated by the native architects--an omission which is perhaps
rather fortunate, considering the crowded state of the interior.
Along the shores of the Coorung a rather peculiar kind of habitation is
used. It must first be mentioned that the Coorung is a back-water inlet
of the sea, running parallel to it for some ninety miles or so, never
more than a mile and a half from the sea, and divided from it only by
a range of enormous sandhills. It is a wild and desolate place, but is
inhabited by the Milmendura tribe, who made themselves so notorious for
the massacre of the passengers and men of the ship _Maria_. The natives
probably like the spot, because in the Coorung, which is protected from
the ocean waves by the sandhills, they can take fish without danger,
and because the sandhills furnish a fruit called the monterry, or
native apple, as, although a berry growing upon a creeping plant, it
looks and tastes like a miniature apple.
The situation is much exposed in the winter time to the cold south-west
blasts, and the natives accordingly make comparatively strong huts.
Their dwellings are formed of a framework of sticks, over which is
plastered a thick layer of turf and mud. In addition to this they heap
over the hut a great quantity of the sand and shells of which the
ground is chiefly composed, so that the houses of the Milmendura look
like mere mounds or hillocks rising from the sandy soil.
The fire which is found in every Australian encampment is generally
procured by friction from two pieces of wood, one being twirled rapidly
between the hands and the other held firmly by the feet. Indeed, the
Australian savage produces fire exactly as does the South African (see
page 100). This accomplishment, however, is not universal, some tribes
being unable to produce fire, and being dependent on the “fire-sticks”
which the women carry with them. It has occasionally happened that
the women have been careless enough to allow all their fire-sticks
to expire, and in such a case they are obliged to go to the nearest
friendly tribe, and beg a light from them, in order to procure fire
wherewith to cook the game that their husbands have brought home.
Before leaving this part of the subject, it will be as well to mention
briefly a few of the devices used by the Australian natives in taking
their game.
One of these devices is remarkably ingenious, and is principally
employed in duck catching. The natives find out a spot where the ducks
resort in order to feed, and arrange their nets so that they may
intercept birds that fly down upon them. When the ducks are all busy
feeding, the native hunter, who has concealed himself near the place,
alarms the birds by suddenly imitating the cry of the fish-hawk, one
of their deadliest foes. The terrified ducks rise in a body; but, just
as they ascend, the wily native flings into the air a triangular piece
of bark, imitating again the cry of the hawk. The birds, fancying that
the hawk is sweeping down upon them, try to escape by darting into the
reeds, and are caught in the nets.
Another ingenious plan is used for capturing birds singly. The native
makes a sort of screen of branches, and conceals himself within it. In
his hand he carries a long and slender rod, at the end of which there
is a noose, and within the noose a bait. Under cover of the screen
he comes close to the bird, and gently places the treacherous noose
near it. By degrees the bird comes closer and closer to the bait,
and, as soon as its head is fairly within the noose, it is secured by
a dexterous twist of the hand. Sometimes the native does not employ
a bait. He builds his simple shelter by some spot where birds are
accustomed to drink, and calls them by imitating their note. They come
to the spot, and, not seeing their companions, perch upon the sticks
under which the hunter is concealed, a large bunch of grass being
generally used to prevent the birds from seeing him. As soon as the
bird perches, he slips the noose over its head, draws it inside the
shelter, kills it, and waits for another.
In some parts of the country the natives make a self-acting snare, very
much on the principle of the nets used in snaring rabbits. It consists
of a sort of bag, and has its opening encircled by a running string,
the other end of which is fastened to some fixed object, such as a
tree-stump. The bag is made of split rattans, so that it remains open,
and, as the meshes are very wide, the bait which is placed within it
can easily be seen.
[Illustration: (1.) WINTER HUTS. (See page 786.)]
[Illustration: (2.) A SUMMER ENCAMPMENT. (See page 784.)]
If a bird or animal should come to the bait, which is fixed at the very
extremity of the bag, it naturally forces its way toward the tempting
object, and in so doing pulls upon the string and closes the mouth of
the bag behind it. The more it struggles, the firmer is it held; and
so it remains until it is taken out, and the trap set again. This very
ingenious snare is used mostly for bandicoots and similar animals,
though birds are sometimes caught in it.
The natives have another self-acting trap, which is identical in
principle with the eel baskets and lobster pots of our own country.
A number of these traps were found by Mr. Carron in some huts near
Princess Charlotte’s Bay. They were made of strips of cane, and were
about five feet in length by eight or nine inches in diameter at the
mouth. From the opening they gradually tapered for some four feet, and
then suddenly enlarged into a large round basket or pocket, the lower
ends of the neck projecting into the basket so as to hinder any animal
from returning through the passage by which it entered. This trap was
used indifferently for catching fish and small animals. For the latter
purpose it was laid in their track, and for the former it was placed in
a narrow channel, through which the fish were forced to pass by being
driven by a party of natives in the water.
The reader will remember that on page 785 there is a reference to the
“stringy-bark,” and its use in architecture. The same bark is used
for a great number of purposes, among which that of boat-building is
perhaps the most conspicuous. Should a native come to the side of a
river which he does not wish to swim, he supplies himself with a boat
in a very expeditious manner. Going to the nearest stringy-bark trees,
and choosing one which has the lines of the bark straight and not
gnarled, he chops a circle round the tree so as to sever the bark, and
about seven or eight feet higher he chops a second circle. His next
proceeding is to make a longitudinal cut down one side of the tree,
and a corresponding one on the other side. He then inserts the handle
of his tomahawk, his digging-stick, or any such implement, between the
bark and the wood, and, by judicious handling, strips off the bark in
two semi-cylindrical, trough-like pieces each of which is capable of
being made into a boat.
Should he be alone, he seldom troubles himself to do more than tie
the bark together at each end of the trough, and in this frail vessel
he will commit himself to the river. But if his wife, or any second
person, should be with him, he makes the simple boat more trustworthy
by digging a quantity of clay out of the river bank, kneading it into
each end of the trough, and tying the bark over the clay. As soon as he
reaches the opposite shore, he lands, pushes the canoe back into the
river and abandons it, knowing that to make a second canoe will not be
nearly so troublesome as to take care of the first.
If, however, he wants a canoe in which he goes fishing, and which,
in consequence, must be of a stronger make, he still adheres to
the stringy bark as his material, though he takes more care in the
manufacture. The bark is bent, like the birch bark of the North
American Indians, by moisture and heat; and even with this better kind
of boat clay is required at each end, and is also used for stopping up
any leakage.
He also exhibits a still better use of the stringy-bark. The bark is
not only formed into a boat-like shape, but it is kept in its form by
cross-pieces of wood. The edges are also strengthened: and altogether
this canoe shows a wonderful advance in boat-building. The vessel
is propelled with a regular paddle instead of the fish spear: and
altogether the boat and the accompanying implements remind the observer
of the birch-bark canoes and vessels of America.
Another simple form of boat is made on a totally different principle
from those which have already been described, and, instead of being
a hollow trough of bark, is a solid bundle of reeds and sticks tied
together in a very ingenious manner, and giving support to one or more
persons, according to its size.
* * * * *
Such is the history of the aboriginal tribes of Australia, whose
remarkable manners and customs are fast disappearing, together with
the natives themselves. The poor creatures are aware of the fact, and
seem to have lost all pleasure in the games and dances that formerly
enlivened their existence. Many of the tribes are altogether extinct,
and others are disappearing so fast that the people have lost all heart
and spirit, and succumb almost without complaint to the fate which
awaits them. In one tribe, for example, the Barrabool, which numbered
upward of three hundred, the births during seventeen years were only
twenty-four, being scarcely two births in three years; while the deaths
had been between eighteen and nineteen per annum.
Mr. Lloyd gives a touching account of the survivors of this once
flourishing tribe:--
“When I first landed in Geelong, in 1837, the Barrabool tribe numbered
upward of three hundred sleek and healthy-looking blacks. A few months
previous to my leaving that town, in May 1853, on casually strolling up
to a couple of miam-miams, or native huts, that were erected upon the
banks of the Burwan River, I observed seated there nine loobras (women)
and one sickly child.
“Seeing so few natives, I was induced to ask after numbers of my old
dark friends of early days--Ballyyang, the chief of the Barrabool
tribe, the great Jaga-jaga, Panigerong, and many others, when I
received the following pathetic reply: ‘Aha, Mitter Looyed, Ballyyang
dedac (dead), Jaga-jaga dedac; Panigerong dedac,’ &c., naming many
others; and, continuing their sorrowful tale, they chanted, in minor
and funereal tones, in their own soft language, to the following effect:
“‘The stranger white man came in his great swimming corong (vessel),
and landed at Corayio with his dedabul boulganas (large animals), and
his anaki boulganas (little animals). He came with his boom-booms
(double guns), his white miam-miams (tents), blankets, and tomahawks;
and the dedabul ummageet (great white stranger) took away the
long-inherited hunting-grounds of the poor Barrabool coolies and their
children,’ &c., &c.
“Having worked themselves into a fit of passionate and excited
grief, weeping, shaking their heads, and holding up their hands
in bitter sorrow, they exclaimed, in wild and frenzied tones:
‘Coolie! coolie! coolie! where are our coolies now! Where are our
fathers--mothers--brothers--sisters? Dead!--all gone! dead!’ Then, in
broken English, they said, ‘Nebber mind, Mitter Looyed, tir; by ’m by
all dem black fella come back white fella like it you.’ Such is the
belief of the poor aborigines of Victoria; hence we may firmly infer
that they possess a latent spark of hope in their minds as to another
and better world.
“Then, with outstretched finger, they showed me the unhappy state of
the aboriginal population. From their statement it appeared that there
existed of the tribe at that moment only nine women, seven men, and one
child. Their rapid diminution in numbers may be traced to a variety
of causes. First, the chances of obtaining their natural food were
considerably lessened by the entire occupation of the best grassed
parts of the country, which originally abounded in kangaroo and other
animals upon which they subsisted. The greater number of these valuable
creatures, as an irresistible consequence, retired into the wild
uninhabitable countries, far from the haunts of the white man and his
destructive dogs.
“Having refused the aid of the Government and the Missionary Societies’
establishments at the River Burwan and Mount Rouse, the natives were
to a serious extent deprived of animal food, so essential to a people
who were ever exposed to the inclemencies of winter and the exhausting
heats of summer. Influenza was one of the greatest scourges under which
they suffered. Then, among other evils attending their association with
the colonists, the brandy, rum, and tobacco told fearfully upon their
already weakened constitutions.”
This one tribe is but an example of the others, all of whom are surely,
and some not slowly, approaching the end of their existence. For many
reasons we cannot but regret that entire races of men, possessing many
fine qualities, should be thus passing away; but it is impossible not
to perceive that they are but following the order of the world, the
lower race preparing a home for the higher.
In the present instance, for example, the aborigines performed barely
half of their duties as men. They partially exercised their dominion
over the beasts and the birds--killing, but not otherwise utilizing
them. But, although they inherited the earth, they did not subdue
it, nor replenish it. They cleared away no useless bush or forest,
to replace them with fruits; and they tilled no land, leaving the
earth exactly in the same condition that they found it. Living almost
entirely by the chase, it required a very large hunting-ground to
support each man, and a single tribe gained a scanty and precarious
living on a tract of land sufficient, when cultivated, to feed a
thousand times their number. In fact, they occupied precisely the same
relative position toward the human race as do the lion, tiger, and
leopard toward the lower animals, and suffered in consequence from the
same law of extinction.
In process of time white men came to introduce new arts into their
country, clearing away useless forest, and covering the rescued earth
with luxuriant wheat crops, sufficient to feed the whole of the
aborigines of the country; bringing also with them herds of sheep and
horned cattle to feed upon the vast plains which formerly nourished
but a few kangaroo, and to multiply in such numbers that they not only
supplied the whole of their adopted land with food, but their flesh was
exported to the mother country.
The superior knowledge of the white man thus gave to the aborigines the
means of securing their supplies of food; and therefore his advent was
not a curse, but a benefit to them. But they could not take advantage
of the opportunities thus offered to them, and, instead of seizing upon
these new means of procuring the three great necessaries of human life,
food, clothing, and lodging, they not only refused to employ them,
but did their best to drive them out of the country, murdering the
colonists, killing their cattle, destroying their crops, and burning
their houses.
The means were offered to them of infinitely bettering their social
condition, and the opportunity given them, by substituting peaceful
labor for perpetual feuds, and of turning professional murderers into
food-producers, of replenishing the land which their everlasting
quarrels, irregular mode of existence, and carelessness of human life
had well-nigh depopulated. These means they could not appreciate,
and, as a natural consequence, had to make way for those who could.
The inferior must always make way for the superior, and such has ever
been the case with the savage. I am persuaded that the coming of the
white man is not the sole, nor even the chief, cause of the decadence
of savage tribes. I have already shown that we can introduce no vice
in which the savage is not profoundly versed, and feel sure that the
cause of extinction lies within the savage himself, and ought not to
be attributed to the white man, who comes to take the place which the
savage has practically vacated.