The Aborigines of Australia

In Short

Compiled by a retired Royal Navy officer and magistrate, this work synthesizes contemporary reports, missionary accounts, and the author’s own observations to examine the social customs, intelligence, and tragic fate of Aboriginal Australians. It captures the complex, often violent friction between indigenous populations and white settlers, while critiquing the government’s failure to provide protection or sustainable aid. The text has endured as a primary source, offering a lens into the Victorian-era mindset toward colonization and the devastating effects of displacement on a resilient but marginalized people.

The Story

The narrative begins by establishing the sophisticated, albeit misunderstood, social structure of indigenous tribes. The author details complex marriage formalities, tribal laws, and spiritual traditions, noting that the intelligence and diplomatic skill of the natives were often severely underestimated by European observers. Through vivid descriptions of corroborees—dramatic performances that depicted everything from daily hunting to the arrival of white stockmen—the book illustrates a vibrant, highly observant culture that maintained a deep connection to the land.

However, this initial portrait of a stable, organized society is quickly eclipsed by the harsh reality of the colonial encounter. As the narrative progresses, the author examines the immediate, catastrophic consequences of British settlement. The arrival of the "murderous hand of the whites" brought not only direct violence, shooting, and poisoning but also the introduction of devastating European diseases, to which the native population had no immunity. The book highlights the rapid extinction of tribes around major colonial centers like Sydney and Melbourne, contrasting the former population counts with the solitary survivors who remained by the late nineteenth century.

The central conflict of the text concerns the failure of government and mission efforts. The author documents a series of well-intentioned but consistently doomed attempts to "civilize" the Aborigines through missionary work and state-run institutions. From the school at Blacktown to the missions at Lake Macquarie and Brisbane, these projects were almost invariably thwarted by the relentless pressure of white population growth, the loss of traditional food sources, and the lack of sustained institutional commitment. The story is one of a "melancholy reflection" on a race being pushed to the brink of existence by the encroachment of a settler society that prioritized land possession over human welfare.

As the account moves toward its conclusion, it shifts focus to the individual stories of survival and resistance. Figures like the "king" Bungaree, who navigated the white world with wit and a keen sense of irony, and the tracker Jackey Jackey, demonstrate the capability of the Aboriginal people to engage with European systems on their own terms. Yet, these individual examples of agency stand in stark contrast to the broader tragedy in Tasmania, where the systematic transportation and subsequent extinction of the native population serve as the book’s final, harrowing indictment of colonial policy. The author concludes with a somber argument: that the destruction of the Aboriginal race was not an inevitable decree of Providence, but the direct result of an unjust, selfish, and unchristian system of colonization.

How It Unfolds

The foundations of society The author outlines traditional laws, linguistic diversity, and the sophisticated spiritual traditions surrounding figures like Nurundere. He emphasizes that these societies were governed by councils of elders and possessed a complex moral and religious life.

The onset of displacement The narrative shifts to the arrival of European settlers and the immediate, violent displacement of the indigenous population. This section catalogs the cycle of retaliation, where colonial encroachment on hunting grounds triggered defensive spearing, followed by lethal punitive expeditions.

The failure of missions A series of chapters recounts the numerous, failed attempts to establish missions and schools for Aboriginal children and families. Each project, from the Moravian missions to church-led initiatives, ultimately collapses due to lack of funding and the encroaching white population.

Individual portraits The text explores the lives of notable figures like the diplomat and performer Bungaree and the tracker Jackey Jackey. These accounts serve to humanize the broader population and counter the prevailing colonial narratives of native "savagery."

The Tasmanian tragedy The work culminates in the history of Tasmania’s indigenous population. The forced removal and subsequent extinction of these people represent the final, tragic realization of the author’s concerns regarding colonial policy.

The People

The figures in this history are rarely individuals in the traditional sense, but rather archetypes of the colonial struggle. Bungaree emerges as perhaps the most compelling figure; he is a shrewd, humorous diplomat who mocks the pomposity of naval officers by mimicry, yet his role as a "king" is clearly a colonial construction that he navigates with ironic intelligence. Mosquito, conversely, represents the path of violent resistance, a man whose indomitable will and physical power lead him to become a terrifying figure in the bush, ultimately driven by the trauma of his encounters with white society. Nurundere functions as the spiritual heartbeat of the text, a deified ancestor whose presence in oral tradition provides the cultural framework for the people’s understanding of their environment and history. Finally, the missionaries—such as Threlkeld or the Matthews—appear as well-meaning but ultimately powerless intermediaries. They are caught between a genuine desire to assist the natives and the indifferent, often hostile, interests of the colonial government and the encroaching settler class.

In Its Own Voice

"In the corroborees they have especial performances. 500 sometimes assemble and represent a herd of cattle feeding, the performers being painted accordingly; they lie down and chew the cud, scratch themselves, and lick the calves, &c."

The author describes the intricate, observational nature of Aboriginal performance art, which often mirrored the new behaviors of the white settlers.

"The darkness they were in in their original condition was the darkness of ignorance—dark indeed, but far darker is their state when to the darkness of ignorance is added the degradation of the acquired vices of civilization."

The Bishop of Perth, quoted by the author, provides the central argument against the "benefits" of colonial interaction.

What It's Really About

This book is fundamentally an argument against the indifference of colonial power. It rejects the contemporary notion that the decline of the Aboriginal people was a biological or divine inevitability. Instead, it posits that the tragedy was a direct consequence of "unjust, selfish, and unchristian" policies. By documenting the failure of missions, the author exposes the hypocrisy of a settler society that claimed to bring civilization while simultaneously stripping the indigenous people of their means of subsistence, their land, and their dignity. The text serves as both an ethnographic record and a moral appeal, questioning whether a nation can truly claim to be advanced while its foundations are built upon the active erasure of the people who originally possessed the land.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of Australia or the study of colonial anthropology will find this a vital, if challenging, document. It is not a polished, modern history; it is a raw, nineteenth-century compilation, filled with the biases and terminology of its time. Modern readers may find the author’s paternalistic framing of "civilizing" the native population difficult to reconcile with contemporary perspectives. Yet, beneath the archaic structure and the author's moralizing tone lies a profound, deeply felt record of loss.

The prose feels like a conversation with an older, disillusioned man who has seen his society’s promises fail—a man who, while clearly a product of his era, is genuinely haunted by the violence he witnessed. What stays with the reader is the stark reality of the population charts: the cold, numeric descent from hundreds to zero. It is a haunting, necessary read for anyone wanting to understand how the nineteenth-century colonial project looked to those who were present to witness its most destructive moments. It does not provide easy answers, but it preserves the names, the traditions, and the memory of a people whose extinction was not a mystery, but a choice made by those who took their land.