FROM THE VAULT

__________

The Flame War Between Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson

This is a reduced version of an article that has been previously posted in Bytes, which can be read in full at: http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com/search?q=lawson+banjo+bulletin

__________

The Australian image:

Australian nationalism and the search for identity promoted the Australian bushman image. The bush became a symbol for national life. By 1900 the bush was seen as the basis of Australian greatness and achievement, the Anzac soldier being a fusion of the bush characteristics and the military. The irony is that the much greater part of the population lived in the cities and urban areas and that the reality of bush life was often far removed from the romanticised images portrayed in art and writing.

__________

Henry Lawson:

Henry Lawson had been born on the goldfields in 1867, the son of a Norwegian seaman, Niels Larsen, who later changed his name to Peter Lawson. The family was poor and lived on a selection in the Mudgee district. Lawson’s childhood was not happy. He suffered from deafness and was often teased as a result. His parents separated when he was 16, following which he moved to Sydney with his mother who commenced publication of a feminist newspaper. Suffering from manic depression, Lawson sought refuge from his mood swings in alcohol. A marriage in 1896 produced 2 children but that marriage was also not a happy one. He separated from his wife in 1903. Periods of time in gaol for failing to support his family alternated with periods of time spent in institutions for alcoholism. He died in 1922.

__________

Andrew Barton “Banjo” Paterson:

Paterson was born on a farm near Orange in 1864, the son of a Scottish father and Australian mother. At the age of 10 he was sent to a school in Sydney, becoming a solicitor in 1886. From 1885 he had been submitting material to The Bulletin under the name “The Banjo, the name of his favourite horse.

Paterson was a war correspondent during the Boer War and managed a property near Yass from 1908. He failed to become a war correspondent during WW1 and drove an ambulance instead. Returning to Australia in 1915, he was mobilised and saw active service, including being wounded. He died in 1941, aged 76.

__________

The Bulletin:

The Bulletin was a weekly magazine published from 1880 to 2008, founded by journalists J F Archibald (founder of the Archibald Prize) and John Haynes. It was nationalist, anti-imperialist, republican and racist, its masthead bearing the words “Australia for the White Man” (the slogan remaining until the magazine was modernised upon its purchase by Sir Frank Packer in 1961). It was radical, xenophobic and blokey. From 1886 it published readers’ contributions, with the result that many later famous authors received their start by having poems and articles published in The Bulletin.

In its heyday The Bulletin was influential. It supported and promoted the bush legend self-image that Australians had of themselves

J F Archibald with Henry Lawson

__________

The Bulletin Debate:

Both Lawson and Paterson were being regularly published in the Bulletin by 1892. They knew each other and were friends, despite different outlooks.

Each typified a different view of the bush: Paterson wrote its wildness, beauty, its characters and its instilling of strength and mateship; Lawson of its struggle and cruelty.

They began portraying their different views of the bush and the outback in a poetic debate in the columns of the Bulletin, a debate which began lightly but ended their friendship.

The initiating item in the debate was a poem by Lawson, Up the Country, in which he describes the bleak, barren and drought ridden countryside he experienced on a trip from the city, its struggling people and its cruel demands.

The first verse reads:

I am back from up the country -- very sorry that I went --

Seeking for the Southern poets' land whereon to pitch my tent;

I have lost a lot of idols, which were broken on the track,

Burnt a lot of fancy verses, and I'm glad that I am back.

Further out may be the pleasant scenes of which our poets boast,

But I think the country's rather more inviting round the coast.

Anyway, I'll stay at present at a boarding-house in town,

Drinking beer and lemon-squashes, taking baths and cooling down.

He concludes that

“…the Southern poets' dream will not be realised

Till the plains are irrigated and the land is humanised.”

http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/henry-lawson/up-the-country/

Paterson responded 2 weeks later with In Defence of the Bush, which opens with:

So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went,

And you're cursing all the business in a bitter discontent;

Well, we grieve to disappoint you, and it makes us sad to hear

That it wasn't cool and shady — and there wasn't whips of beer,

And the looney bullock snorted when you first came into view —

Well, you know it's not so often that he sees a swell like you;

And the roads were hot and dusty, and the plains were burnt and brown,

And no doubt you're better suited drinking lemon-squash in town.

Paterson then describes the bush in a romanticised manner: its lushness and beauty when the rains come in a month or two; the friendships in the shearers’ sheds; the mateship of the men of the bush and the jollity around the campfire at night, all to be compared with the squalid and hostile city and its inhabitants.

His final advice to Lawson is:

You had better stick to Sydney and make merry with the "push",

For the bush will never suit you, and you'll never suit the bush.

http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/25342-A-B--Banjo-Paterson-In-Defence-of-the-Bush

Lawson’s reply was published 2 weeks later, The City Bushman, in which he accuses Paterson of travelling in the bush a a city person, with all the city comforts and conveniences:

It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went,

For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent;

Lawson accuses Paterson of romanticising the bush at the expense of its harsh realities: the backbreaking toil, the interest rates of the banks, the working for absentee landlords; the droughts and floods that ruin the farmers and their families. He speaks of “the drover who is driven and the shearer who is shorn” and says that the camaraderie of the campfire means little when the rain soaks both you and your supplies, when you have to toil for the station owner for provisions instead of money and where the “the drovers and the shearers and the bushmen and the rest” are nowhere near as well off as the poets who write about their idealised existence.

He concludes:

But you'll find it very jolly with the cuff-and-collar push,

And the city seems to suit you, while you rave about the bush.

http://www.poetryconnection.net/poets/Henry_Lawson/19134

Two months later, in October 1982, Paterson replied to Lawson and his other critics in An Answer to Various Bards. Read it at:

https://www.telelib.com/authors/P/PatersonAB_Banjo/verse/saltbushbillandother/answerbards.html#:~:text=An%20Answer%20to%20Various%20Bards%20Andrew%20Barton%20%E2%80%98Banjo%E2%80%99,Mister%20Dyson%2C%20and%20the%20others%20of%20their%20kin%2C

He commented that the townies should stay in town or move to England and leave the bush to those who were tougher and stronger.

The references in the poem to beer, pubs and bars are part of Paterson’s personal jibes at Lawson and his alcoholism. The debate had become caustic and personal, with Paterson early on attacking the man rather than the argument.

As often happens in joking between friends, a line can be crossed, as happened here. The debate ended the friendship.

--------oOo--------

From the Vault: The Bulletin Debate

The following post is a reprint from June 4, 2010.  It is worth another read, imho, and concerns two of Australia's greatest and popular poets.  A lengthy article but one of general and historical interest...

The Bulletin Debate

The myth of “the bush” and Australian identity:

Banjo Paterson

Henry Lawson

The image that the world has of Australia (which we also have of ourselves) is of open spaces, bush and wilderness, a resilient and resourceful people toiling under bright blue sunny skies. Each of us is either outwardly or inwardly Crocodile Dundee.

In reality Australia is the most urbanised country in the world, both as to the rate and level of urbanisation. Most of us live in the suburbs and work in the cities (although the level of city dwelling is increasing as State Government planning policies have encouraged residential dwelling in the city).

According to the 1861 census, more than 60% of the nation’s population were rural dwellers and lived outside the towns. By 1961, a century later, the proportion had fallen to 18%, with 82% of the population now living in the capital cities or other urban areas. Today, 89% of Australia’s population is urban.

This dualism of the cities and the areas outside the cities, generally referred to as “the bush”, and the effect on national identity, has persisted from the mid 19th century. The diggers on the goldfields were seen to be, and saw themselves, as stoic, enduring and resourceful, willing to endure hardship and struggle without complaint. In a hostile environment where the authorities were corrupt and the conditions were harsh, a digger could rely only on his mates. The legend of the bush and the Australian bushman was an extension of the goldfields digger. The same strength of character in difficult conditions was attributed to the bushman, the same mateship culture, resourcefulness and independence.

Australian nationalism and the search for identity promoted the Australian bushman image. The bush became a symbol for national life. By 1900 the bush was seen as the basis of Australian greatness and achievement, the Anzac soldier being a fusion of the bush characteristics and the military. The irony is that the much greater part of the population lived in the cities and urban areas and that the reality of bush life was often far removed from the romanticised images portrayed in art and writing.

Henry Lawson:

Henry Lawson had been born on the goldfields in 1867, the son of a Norwegian seaman, Niels Larsen, who later changed his name to Peter Lawson. The family was poor and lived on a selection in the Mudgee district. Lawson’s childhood was not happy. He suffered from deafness and was often teased as a result. His parents separated when he was 16, following which he moved to Sydney with his mother who commenced publication of a feminist newspaper. Suffering from manic depression, Lawson sought refuge from his mood swings in alcohol. A marriage in 1896 produced 2 children but that marriage was also not a happy one. He separated from his wife in 1903. Periods of time in gaol for failing to support his family alternated with periods of time spent in institutions for alcoholism. He died in 1922.

Andrew Barton "Banjo" Paterson:

Paterson was born on a farm near Orange in 1864, the son of a Scottish father and Australian mother. At the age of 10 he was sent to a school in Sydney, becoming a solicitor in 1886. From 1885 he had been submitting material to The Bulletin under the name “The Banjo, the name of his favourite horse.

Paterson was a war correspondent during the Boer War and managed a property near Yass from 1908. He failed to become a war correspondent during WW1 and drove an ambulance instead. Returning to Australia in 1915, he was mobilised and saw active service, including being wounded. He died in 1941, aged 76.

The Bulletin:

The Bulletin was a weekly magazine published from 1880 to 2008, founded by journalists J F Archibald (founder of the Archibald Prize) and John Haynes. It was nationalist, anti-imperialist, republican and racist, its masthead bearing the words “Australia for the White Man” (the slogan remaining until the magazine was modernised upon its purchase by Sir Frank Packer in 1961). It was radical, xenophobic and blokey. From 1886 it published readers’ contributions, with the result that many later famous authors received their start by having poems and articles published in The Bulletin.

In its heyday The Bulletin was influential. It supported and promoted the bush legend self-image that Australians had of themselves Prior to Federation in 1900, Australia did not exist as a united entity, only as a collection of States. People gave their loyalties to their State and then to England and its monarch. The Bulletin promoted an Australian identity and character consistent with the bush myth, so much so that it became known as “the bushman’s Bible”.

Pictured: J F Archibald with Henry Lawson

The Bulletin Debate:

Both Lawson and Paterson were being regularly published in the Bulletin by 1892. They knew each other and were friends, despite different outlooks.

Each typified a different view of the bush: Paterson wrote its wildness, beauty, its characters and its instilling of strength and mateship; Lawson of its struggle and cruelty.

Between 1892 and 1893 they engaged in a literary debate on the virtues and merits, or otherwise, of the bush and the cities. The debate reinforced the significance of the bush as a significant part of an Australian national identity at a time but had the ultimate consequence of creating a rift between Paterson and Lawson as the debate became personal.

In 1939, 2 years before his death and 17 years after Lawson’s death, Paterson spoke of the debate:

"Henry Lawson was a man of remarkable insight in some things and of extraordinary simplicity in others. We were both looking for the same reef, if you get what I mean; but I had done my prospecting on horseback with my meals cooked for me, while Lawson has done his prospecting on foot and had had to cook for himself. Nobody realised this better than Lawson; and one day he suggested that we should write against each other, he putting the bush from his point of view, and I putting it from mine. "We ought to do pretty well out of it," he said. "We ought to be able to get in three or four sets of verses before they stop us." This suited me all right, for we were working on space, and the pay was very small ... so we slam-banged away at each other for weeks and weeks; not until they stopped us, but until we ran out of material ..."

The poems are too long to set out in their entirety in this article but I will provide links as to where they can be read. It is worth doing.

The initiating item in the debate was a poem by Lawson, Up the Country, in which he describes the bleak, barren and drought ridden countryside he experienced on a trip from the city, its struggling people and its cruel demands.

The first verse reads:

I am back from up the country -- very sorry that I went --
Seeking for the Southern poets' land whereon to pitch my tent;
I have lost a lot of idols, which were broken on the track,
Burnt a lot of fancy verses, and I'm glad that I am back.
Further out may be the pleasant scenes of which our poets boast,
But I think the country's rather more inviting round the coast.
Anyway, I'll stay at present at a boarding-house in town,
Drinking beer and lemon-squashes, taking baths and cooling down.
He concludes with the same verse with slightly changed lines that
“…the Southern poets' dream will not be realised
Till the plains are irrigated and the land is humanised.” 

http://www.poemhunter.com/best-poems/henry-lawson/up-the-country/

Paterson responded 2 weeks later with In Defence of the Bush, which opens with:

So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went,
And you're cursing all the business in a bitter discontent;
Well, we grieve to disappoint you, and it makes us sad to hear
That it wasn't cool and shady — and there wasn't whips of beer,
And the looney bullock snorted when you first came into view —
Well, you know it's not so often that he sees a swell like you;
And the roads were hot and dusty, and the plains were burnt and brown,
And no doubt you're better suited drinking lemon-squash in town.
Paterson then describes the bush in a romanticised manner: its lushness and beauty when the rains come in a month or two; the friendships in the shearers’ sheds; the mateship of the men of the bush and the jollity around the campfire at night, all to be compared with the squalid and hostile city and its inhabitants.

His final advice to Lawson is:

You had better stick to Sydney and make merry with the "push",
For the bush will never suit you, and you'll never suit the bush. 

http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/25342-A-B--Banjo-Paterson-In-Defence-of-the-Bush

Lawson’s reply was published 2 weeks later, The City Bushman, in which he accuses Paterson of travelling in the bush a a city person, with all the city comforts and conveniences:

It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went,
For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent;

Lawson accuses Paterson of romanticising the bush at the expense of its harsh realities: the backbreaking toil, the interest rates of the banks, the working for absentee landlords; the droughts and floods that ruin the farmers and their families. He speaks of “the drover who is driven and the shearer who is shorn” and says that the camaraderie of the campfire means little when the rain soaks both you and your supplies, when you have to toil for the station owner for provisions instead of money and where the “the drovers and the shearers and the bushmen and the rest” are nowhere near as well off as the poets who write about their idealised existence.

He concludes:

But you'll find it very jolly with the cuff-and-collar push,
And the city seems to suit you, while you rave about the bush. 

http://www.poetryconnection.net/poets/Henry_Lawson/19134

Other writers joined in the debate, mostly on the side of Lawson, and were published in The Bulletin’s pages.

Two months later, in October 1982, Paterson replied to Lawson and his other critics in An Answer to Various Bards. His opening words are:

Well, I've waited mighty patient while they all came rolling in,
Mister Lawson, Mister Dyson, and the others of their kin,
With their dreadful, dismal stories of the Overlander's camp,
How his fire is always smoky, and his boots are always damp;
And they paint it so terrific it would fill one's soul with gloom --
But you know they're fond of writing about "corpses" and "the tomb".
According to Paterson, there is no denying that the bush has its hard realities, struggles and cruelties, but that the bushman meets those trials and overcomes. The bushman is not suited to the city:
And, of course, there's no denying that the bushman's life is rough,
But a man can easy stand it if he's built of sterling stuff;
Though it's seldom that the drover gets a bed of eiderdown,
Yet the man who's born a bushman, he gets mighty sick of town,
He concludes:
Let us herd into the cities, let us crush and crowd and push
Till we lose the love of roving, and we learn to hate the bush;
And we'll turn our aspirations to a city life and beer,
And we'll slip across to England -- it's a nicer place than here;
For there's not much risk of hardship where all comforts are in store,
And the theatres are in plenty, and the pubs are more and more.
But that ends it, Mr Lawson, and it's time to say good-bye,
So we must agree to differ in all friendship, you and I.
Yes, we'll work our own salvation with the stoutest hearts we may,
And if fortune only favours we will take the road some day,
And go droving down the river 'neath the sunshine and the stars,
And then return to Sydney and vermilionize the bars.

The references in the poem to beer, pubs and bars are part of Paterson’s personal jibes at Lawson and his alcoholism.

The debate had become caustic and personal, with Paterson early on attacking the man rather than the argument.

Paterson further criticised Lawson as being “fond of writing about ‘corpses’ and ‘the tomb’. Paterson is reputed to have written this because he had seen a poem by Lawson called The Poet of the Tomb on Lawson’s desk. In An Answer to Various Bards Paterson refers to various deaths that Lawson had written about in his poems and suggests that Lawson and his supporters “should take something for their livers, and be cheerful for a change”. Instead of being full of doom and gloom they should try to focus on other than the tomb.

According to Paterson:

…no doubt, the bush is wretched if you judge it by the groan
Of the sad and soulful poet with a graveyard of his own.

One week later Lawson responded with The Poets of the Tomb, the poem for which Paterson had seen the title on Lawson’s desk.

Lawson responded to Paterson:

The world has had enough of bards who wish that they were dead,
'Tis time the people passed a law to knock 'em on the head,
For 'twould be lovely if their friends could grant the rest they crave --
Those bards of `tears' and `vanished hopes', those poets of the grave.
They say that life's an awful thing, and full of care and gloom,
They talk of peace and restfulness connected with the tomb.

He continues that whereas some people help the world and try to improve the lot of themselves and others, the poets of the tomb and of the grave are concerned only with how they will be remembered and what monuments will be erected for them.

According to Lawson:

'Twixt mother's arms and coffin-gear a man has work to do!
And if he does his very best he mostly worries through,
And while there is a wrong to right, and while the world goes round,
An honest man alive is worth a million underground.
And yet, as long as sheoaks sigh and wattle-blossoms bloom,
The world shall hear the drivel of the poets of the tomb. 

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-answer-to-various-bards/

This poem marks the end of the verse debate and is said to have also marked the end of the friendship between Lawson and Paterson. Lawson is said to have become upset at the outcome of the debate and by it becoming personal. Using £5 and a rail ticket provided by Archibald, Lawson headed to Bourke where he “painted, picked up in a shearing shed and swagged it for six months...’ as he wrote to his aunt.

In an ultimate irony, it is believed that part of Lawson’s reason for going to Bourke was to see for himself life in “the bush” and to experience the countryside and the people he had been writing about.

http://www.waltzingmatilda.com.au/TheBanjo.html

According to Robyn Burrows, the author of Henry Lawson: A Stranger on the Darling, a book about Lawson’s Bourke period:

It is doubtful if, at that time [the time of the Bulletin Debate], he had been further west than Bathurst and he had no real concept, except what he had been told by others, of the real outback. 

http://www.poetryconnection.net/poets/Henry_Lawson/19157

The Bulletin Debate

A lengthy article but one of general and historical interest...

The Bulletin Debate

The myth of “the bush” and Australian identity:

The image that the world has of Australia (which we also have of ourselves) is of open spaces, bush and wilderness, a resilient and resourceful people toiling under bright blue sunny skies. Each of us is either outwardly or inwardly Crocodile Dundee.

In reality Australia is the most urbanised country in the world, both as to the rate and level of urbanisation. Most of us live in the suburbs and work in the cities (although the level of city dwelling is increasing as State Government planning policies have encouraged residential dwelling in the city).

According to the 1861 census, more than 60% of the nation’s population were rural dwellers and lived outside the towns. By 1961, a century later, the proportion had fallen to 18%, with 82% of the population now living in the capital cities or other urban areas. Today, 89% of Australia’s population is urban.

Poetry Spot: Some Clancys

In 2010 I posted the story of the Bulletin Debate, and reposted it in 2019. 

Those wishing to read those posts, which are jolly good reads, can do so by clicking on the following links: 

2010: 

http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com/2010/06/bulletin-debate.html#more

2019: 

http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com/2019/10/from-vault-bulletin-debate.html

The "Bulletin Debate" was a well-publicised dispute in The Bulletin magazine between two of Australia's best known writers and poets, Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson. The debate took place via a series of poems about the merits of living in the Australian "bush", published from 1892–93. 

Banjo Paterson

Henry Lawson

On one level it is a literary duel between Australia’s two most popular poets, a battle of words and outlooks that started as comments and responses but ended up becoming personal, bringing their friendship to an end. On another level it is an examination of national identity at a time when Australia was coming of age. On 1 January 1901 Australia became a nation when 6 British colonies—New South Wales, Victoria, Queensland, South Australia, Western Australia and Tasmania—united to form the Commonwealth of Australia. The “Bush” was a significant component of that identity. 

For Paterson, a Sydney city solicitor, the Bush was a place of mateship, camaraderie, heroism, people supporting each other, standing proud and tall. See, for example, Paterson’s most famous poem "The Man from Snowy River". 

Lawson saw it differently and considered Paterson’s outlook romantic BS that was filtered through rose coloured glasses. To Lawson the Bush was harsh, cruel, unforgiving and unrelenting. As an example, read Lawson’s "Past Carin’" at: 

http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com/2018/08/past-carin.html

Other poets also contributed to the Bulletin Debate. 

I came across two such examples recently, responses to Paterson’s famous poem Clancy of the Overflow. They put a reality check on Paterson’s view of the bush. 

To understand the response, one needs to firstly read Clancy, a poem known to all in Oz, including each school child . . . 

Some preliminary comments: 

For those who would prefer to hear the poem put to music, here is Slim Dusty’s version: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN-k5CUmAMc

The Overflow is a rural region in the centre of New South Wales. 

“Clancy of the Overflow”, illustrated by Jamie and Leanne Tufrey. This postcard was published by Australian post to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the birth of Barton “Banjo” Paterson. Clancy of the Overflow is a poem by him that was published in 1889. 

Paterson’s poem in all its idyllic glory: 

Clancy of the Overflow

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better 

Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago, 

He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him, 

Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow". 

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected, 

(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar) 

Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it: 

"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are." 

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy 

Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go; 

As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing, 

For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know. 

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him 

In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars, 

And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended, 

And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars. 

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy 

Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall, 

And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city 

Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all 

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle 

Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street, 

And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting, 

Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet. 

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me 

As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste, 

With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy, 

For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste. 

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy, 

Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go, 

While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal — 

But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".

The Drover, 1912, by Walter Withers 

Response #1: 

The first response, The Overflow of Clancy, was by a poet who identified only as H.H.C.C. No-one knows the identity of "H.H.C.C." for sure, but one commentator believes it was Henry Lawson. It was first published in The Bulletin on 20 August 1892 and was followed 7 days later by the second response, which appears after the poem below.  Both responses use lines and images from Paterson's poem and from other poems in the Bulletin Debate.

The Overflow of Clancy

I've read "The Banjo's" letter, and I'm glad he's found a better 

Billet than he had upon the station where I met him years ago; 

He was "slushy" then for Scotty, but the "bushland" sent him "dotty," 

So he "rose up, William Riley," and departed down below. 

He "rolled up" very gladly, for he had bush-fever badly 

When he left "the smoke" to wander "where the wattle-blossoms wave," 

But a course of "stag and brownie" seems to make the bush-struck towny 

Kinder weaken on the wattle and the bushman's lonely grave. 

Safe in town, he spins romances of the bush until one fancies 

That it's all top-boots and chorus, kegs of rum and "whips" of grass, 

And the sheep off camp go stringing when the "boss-in-charge" is singing, 

Whilst we "blow the cool tobacco-smoke and watch the white wreaths pass." 

Yet, I guess "The B." feels fitter in a b'iled shirt and "hard-hitter" 

Than he would "way down the Cooper" in a flannel smock and "moles," 

For the city cove has leisure to indulge in stocks of pleasure, 

But the drover's only pastime's cooking "What's this! on the coals." 

And the pub. hath friends to meet him, and between the acts they treat him 

While he's swapping "fairy twisters" with the "girls behind their bars," 

And he sees a vista splendid when the ballet is extended, 

And at night he's in his glory with the comic-op'ra stars. 

I am sitting, very weary, on a log before a dreary 

Little fire that's feebly hissing 'neath a heavy fall of rain, 

And the wind is cold and nipping, and I curse the ceaseless dripping 

As I slosh around for wood to start the embers up again. 

And, in place of beauty's greeting, I can hear the dismal bleating 

Of a ewe that's sneaking out among the marshes for her lamb; 

And for all the poet's skitin' that a new-chum takes delight in, 

The drover's share of pleasure isn't worth a tinker's d--n. 

Does he sneer at bricks and mortar when he's squatting in the water 

After riding fourteen hours beneath a sullen, weeping sky? 

Does he look aloft and thank it, as he spreads his sodden blanket? 

For the drover has no time to spare, he has no time to dry. 

If "The Banjo's" game to fill it, he is welcome to my billet; 

He can "take a turn at droving" -- wages three-and-six a-day -- 

And his throat'll get more gritty than mine will in the city 

Where with Mister Lawson's squashes I can wash the dust away. 

First published in The Bulletin, 20 August 1892 

Response #2:

The other response to Clancy was by Francis Kenna (1865 – 1932), an Australian poet, journalist, and Labor Member of the Legislative Assembly in Queensland. Kenna published Banjo, of the Overflow, in 1892, as part of the Bulletin Debate about the true nature of life in the Australian bush. 

Francis Kenna 

Kenna’s poem . . . 

Banjo, of the Overflow 

I had written him a letter, which I had for want of better 

Knowledge given to a partner by the name of "Greenhide Jack" -- 

He was shearing when I met him, and I thought perhaps I'd let him 

Know that I was "stiff," and, maybe, he would send a trifle back. 

My request was not requited, for an answer came indited 

On a sheet of scented paper, in an ink of fancy blue; 

And the envelope, I fancy, had an "Esquire" to the Clancy, 

And it simply read, "I'm busy; but I'll see what I can do!" 

To the vision land I can go, and I often think of the "Banjo" -- 

Of the boy I used to shepherd in the not so long ago, 

He was not the bushman's kidney, and among the crowd of Sydney 

He'll be more at home than mooning on the dreary Overflow. 

He has clients now to fee him, and has friends to come and see him, 

He can ride from morn to evening in the padded hansom cars, 

And he sees the beauties blending where the throngs are never ending, 

And at night the wond'rous women in the everlasting bars. 

I am tired of reading prattle of the sweetly-lowing cattle 

Stringing out across the open with the bushmen riding free; 

I am sick at heart of roving up and down the country droving, 

And of alternating damper with the salt-junk and the tea. 

And from sleeping in the water on the droving trips I've caught a 

Lively dose of rheumatism in my back and in my knee, 

And in spite of verse it's certain that the sky's a leaky curtain -- 

It may suit the "Banjo" nicely, but it never suited me. 

And the bush is very pretty when you view it from the city, 

But it loses all its beauty when you face it "on the pad;" 

And the wildernesses haunt you, and the plains extended daunt you, 

Till at times you come to fancy life will drive you mad. 

But I somehow often fancy that I'd rather not be Clancy, 

That I'd like to be the "Banjo" where the people come and go 

When instead of framing curses I'd be writing charming verses -- 

Tho' I scarcely think he'd swap me, "Banjo, of the Overflow." 

First published in The Bulletin, 27 August 1892

Past Carin'

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The following item is a repost from a 2012 Bytes . . . 

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Watching the DVD series of the old Oz classic "All The Rivers Run", I came to the episode where the steam paddler "Philadelphia" is stranded up the Murray because of drought and low water. Whilst so stranded, the people of the boat meet with a farmer, Mr Slope, and his wife. They live in a small hut in a barren landscape. Mrs Slope explains that all the trees died when the river flooded and the soil went sour. It is clear that his wife has been made hard by the land and the conditions in which she lives, it is almost as though she has had the gentleness, feeling and emotion sucked out of her by the land. She later shows Sigrid Thornton the graves of her two children. The scenes were so close to Henry Lawson's poem "Past Carin' " that he could have been writing about her. Perhaps the scriptwriters took their story from the poem.

The poem and some biographical notes about Henry Lawson follow.

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Past Carin’

It’s a sad thing when Henry Lawson (1867-1922) is known to the younger generations today only as “the dude on the ten dollar note”. (Note: The new $10 note replaces the faces of Hernry Lawson and Francis Greenway with those of Banjo Patterson and Dame Mary Gilmore, so poor old Henry isn't even that anymore.)

One of Australia’s greatest poets and fiction writers, he is also credited with being the first poet to capture the Australian way of life.

Born of an impoverished family on the goldfields, Henry Lawson had a poor education but was supplied large numbers of books by his mother.  Shy and sensitive, he was unlike the other bush boys, so much so that even his mother thought him strange.  At age nine an ear infection left him partially deaf; by age fourteen he was wholly deaf.  As a result he was tormented by the other school children, making him even more of a loner, although it also instilled a keen observation of people.

Whilst working at various jobs he began writing poetry, eventually becoming published in The Bulletin.  Lawson’s first published poem was in 1888; in 1892 the magazine paid for an inland trip.  There he experienced the hardships and harsh reality of life in the drought-affected outback.  Those experiences were reflected in his poems and in fiction such as “The Drover’s Wife”.  His depictions of the grim reality of outback life was far removed from the romantic idyll depicted in Banjo Patterson’s poetry.  Where Patterson wrote of brave horsemen and beautiful scenery, Lawson wrote about the loneliness, hardship and grim desolation of life in the bush.  His poem “Past Carin’” and the short story “The Drover’s Wife” have been described as the first accurate depictions of the Australian way of life.

His debates in verse with Banjo Patterson in the pages of The Bulletin became known as the Bulletin Debate, giving rise to spirited debating and some fine poetry.  Read about the debates at:

http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com.au/2010/06/bulletin-debate.html 

Lawson’s later life was as sad as his earlier years.  A marriage which produced two children was unhappy and failed; he became an alcoholic and was frequently seen begging, often at the Circular Quay turnstiles.  He received gaol terms for drunkenness and failure to pay alimony and not surprisingly suffered from depression.

A friendship between Lawson and the elderly Mrs Isabella Byers resulted in the alleviation of some of his difficulties.  Herself a poet, she regarded Lawson as Australia’s greatest living poet and assisted him in his dealings with publishers, establishing contact with his children and seeing him through his mental and alcohol problems.  The friendship lasted 20 years until his death in 1922 of a cerebral haemorrhage.  He was buried in Waverly Cemetery, the first person to be granted a NSW state funeral.

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“Past Carin’” is a sad and grim description of outback life, harshly descriptive of its hardships, loneliness and heartbreaks.  One commentator has described it as “unremitting bleakness so sympathetically portrayed… The strong, determined woman finally beaten by her lot.”  She wants to be “past carin’” because it will stop the pain whenever the things she loves are cruelly snatched from her by the harsh Australian land and its hardships.  Whereas the various stanzas have her declaring that she is now past caring, the last stanza shows that she is not.  Although her life in the bush has been one of grief, loss, desolation, loneliness and despair, she still cares, quite a deal, but she wishes she didn’t.

How powerful are the lines about her children:

 I've pulled three through, and buried two

Since then -- and I'm past carin'.

or about her husband:

 He's drovin' in the great North-west,

I don't know how he's farin';

For I, the one that loved him best,

Have grown to be past carin'.

 As she says, the girl who cared was the girl who waited long ago.

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Past Carin’

   - Henry Lawson

Now up and down the siding brown

The great black crows are flyin',

And down below the spur, I know,

Another `milker's' dyin';

The crops have withered from the ground,

The tank's clay bed is glarin',

But from my heart no tear nor sound,

For I have gone past carin' --

Past worryin' or carin',

Past feelin' aught or carin';

But from my heart no tear nor sound,

For I have gone past carin'.

Through Death and Trouble, turn about,

Through hopeless desolation,

Through flood and fever, fire and drought,

And slavery and starvation;

Through childbirth, sickness, hurt, and blight,

And nervousness an' scarin',

Through bein' left alone at night,

I've got to be past carin'.

Past botherin' or carin',

Past feelin' and past carin';

Through city cheats and neighbours' spite,

I've come to be past carin'.

Our first child took, in days like these,

A cruel week in dyin',

All day upon her father's knees,

Or on my poor breast lyin';

The tears we shed -- the prayers we said

Were awful, wild -- despairin'!

I've pulled three through, and buried two

Since then -- and I'm past carin'.

I've grown to be past carin',

Past worryin' and wearin';

I've pulled three through and buried two

Since then, and I'm past carin'.

'Twas ten years first, then came the worst,

All for a dusty clearin',

I thought, I thought my heart would burst

When first my man went shearin';

He's drovin' in the great North-west,

I don't know how he's farin';

For I, the one that loved him best,

Have grown to be past carin'.

I've grown to be past carin'

Past lookin' for or carin';

The girl that waited long ago,

Has lived to be past carin'.

My eyes are dry, I cannot cry,

I've got no heart for breakin',

But where it was in days gone by,

A dull and empty achin'.

My last boy ran away from me,

I know my temper's wearin',

But now I only wish to be

Beyond all signs of carin'.

Past wearyin' or carin',

Past feelin' and despairin';

And now I only wish to be

Beyond all signs of carin'.

A Bush Christening

Over a lunch and coffee yesterday with my wife Kate we discussed populist poetry in the context of recent Bytes items, which a subscriber had quoted being referred to as good bad poetry. I mentioned a few more works by overseas writers and even the lyrics of The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze, an old music hall standard where the audience would come in with the “Ohhhhhh” of the chorus (this may be Bytes for next week).  Kate raised the works of Henry Lawson and Banjo Patterson, poetry and stories loved by the masses but not accepted by the literati elite as “serious” works. I quite like the works of Lawson and the Banjo, having posted some items about them previously:

The Bulletin Debate:

http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com.au/2010/06/bulletin-debate.html

Henry Lawson: Past Carin':

http://bytesdaily.blogspot.com.au/2012/09/henry-lawson-past-carin.html

Today’s post, at Kate’s suggestion, is Banjo’s Patterson humorous poem A Bush Christening. Some comments about the work follow the poem.

A B Paterson’s A Bush Christening, by Michael Lodge

A BUSH CHRISTENING - A.B. "Banjo" Paterson

On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,

And men of religion are scanty,

On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,

One Michael Magee had a shanty.

Now this Mike was the dad of a ten-year-old lad,

Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;

He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest

For the youngster had never been christened,

And his wife used to cry, "If the darlin' should die

Saint Peter would not recognise him."

But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,

Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.

Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,

With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',

And he muttered in fright while his features turned white,

"What the divil and all is this christenin'?"

He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,

And it seemed to his small understanding,

If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,

It must mean something very like branding.

So away with a rush he set off for the bush,

While the tears in his eyelids they glistened-

"'Tis outrageous," says he, "to brand youngsters like me,

I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!"

Like a young native dog he ran into a log,

And his father with language uncivil,

Never heeding the "praste" cried aloud in his haste, 

"Come out and be christened, you divil!"

But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,

And his parents in vain might reprove him,

Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)

"I've a notion," says he, "that'll move him."

"Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;

Poke him aisy-don't hurt him or maim him,

'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,

As he rushes out this end I'll name him.

"Here he comes, and for shame! ye've forgotten the name-

Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?"

Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout-

"Take your chance, anyhow, wid 'Maginnis'!"

As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub

Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,

The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head

That was labelled "Maginnis's Whisky!"

And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,

And the one thing he hates more than sin is

To be asked by the folk who have heard of the joke,

How he came to be christened "Maginnis"!

* * * * * * *

About the poem:

The poem was first published in the Bulletin on 16 December 1893 and was included in The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses in 1895.

The Bulletin was an Australian weekly magazine that was published in Sydney from 1880 until January 2008. It was influential in Australian culture and politics from about 1890 until Woprld War 1, the period when it was identified with the "Bulletin school" of Australian literature. Its influence thereafter declined steadily. In the 1960s it was revived as a modern news magazine.

* * * * * * *

The poem has been linked by Lucy Sussex to an anonymous story, 'Peggy's Christening', in the Colonial Monthly, April 1868, a quarter of a century before Paterson's poem. Paterson used the Irish Catholic community as the basis of many similar bush verses, e.g. 'Father Riley's Horse', 'Gilhooley's Estate' and 'Mulligan's Mare'.

* * * * * * *

Some explanations:

Bush Christening:

In Australia “the bush” is synonymous with any sparsely inhabited region regardless of vegetation. Paterson romanticised the bush, Lawson depicted its grimness (click on the Bulletin Debate link above), painters such Tom Roberts, Arthur Streeton and Frederick McCubbin often idealised it. As a perceived source of ideals, endurance, toughness, mateship, tragedy and beauty, the bush and its spirit was a major part in the forging of a national identity.

Back in the 1800’s homesteads in the outback were often lonely and isolated, so much so that it was sometimes years between the priest’s visits as he travelled from home to home on horseback.

outer Barcoo:

The Barcoo is a river in western Queensland. The Barcoo Shire has an area about the size of Tasmania and a population of 460:

http://www.barcoo.qld.gov.au/

In the context of the poem, the locale serves to emphasise the isolation.

About 90 kilometres from Jundah, a town that is the administrative centre of the Barcoo Shire local government area, is a plaque to Magee’s Shanty as the reputed site of the shanty described in the poem.

Michael Magee:

Many of the first white settlers to make their homes in the colonies of New South Wales and Queensland were poor Irish Catholic families, often descended from Irish convicts.

shanty:

A small crudely built dwelling or shelter usually of wood.

An example of what the Magees’ shanty may have looked like.

Wattle and daub home with bark roof and wooden chimney. 1890

Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned; 

Although depicted as being well fed and healthy, the description may also be a reflection of Paterson’s romanticising of the bush and its settlers.

Saint Peter would not recognise him

The Catholic belief that an unbaptised child did not make it into Heaven.

collogue

A confidential discussion.

If the man in the frock made him one of the flock, 

It must mean something very like branding.

A marvellous image, that the young lad who has grown up with sheep and cattle and no knowledge of religion and christening, works out in his own mind that being made one of the flock means being branded.

“I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!" 

It may be that back in 1893 it was politically incorrect to use the word “damned” but substitute “damned” and what another great image, the lad who declares that he’ll be damned if he stops to be christened!

he ran into a log

Some of the trees back then were giant ones. Clearing the land for grazing sheep and cattle was commonplace.

“praste”

Priest in Irish brogue

spalpeen

A rascal

a prog

A poke.

aisy

Easy

The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head 

That was labelled 'Maginnis's Whisky'! 

The priest happens to have a bottle of Irish whisky with him. The association of alcohol and the Irish is a longstanding one; the association of the alcohol and a man of cloth, even more so blessing of the child with whisky and naming him Maginnis, is inspired. A rollicking bit of humour.

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