Boyce, James. Van Diemen's Land. Black Inc. Books, Melbourne, 2008. RRP $49.95
'The floral mead — the pearly stream — the goodly grove, however they delight the eye or ravish the imagination — what are they all? — a worthless waste, until the genius and industry of man converts and fits them all for the welfare and enjoyment of his kind.' (David Burn, 'A Picture of Van Diemen's Land', the Colonial Magazine, 1840)
Landscape has long been acknowledged as central to the colonial history of Australia. Yet over centuries historians have reduced its significance to that of a passive canvass inscribed progressively with the actions of its peoples. In so doing they have continued to re-enact conceptually the very process that their histories so vehemently denounce.
James Boyce's Van Diemen's Land, which Boyce defines as an 'environmental history', seeks to redress this, focusing instead upon what Manning Clark has described as 'the influence of the spirit of place in the fashioning of Australians'.
Happy birthday Andy! Love Tim and Nic.
While historians such as Clark and Tim Flannery have pioneered this focus on the reciprocal relationship between the colonisers and their environment, Boyce goes one stage further by stressing the diversity within the landscape, which renders generalised conclusions inadequate. Emphasising the geographical contrasts between Tasmania and other colonial sites in New South Wales, Boyce makes a compelling revisionist case not just for the origins of Tasmania itself, but for the way in which we write and conceive Australian history.
The history of Tasmania, Boyce argues, is characterised by a fundamental paradox arising from 'the tension produced by siting the principle gaol of the empire in what proved to be a remarkable benevolent land'. In contrast to the harsh and often desperate conditions endured by settlers in Sydney Cove, those encountered by the Tasmanian convicts were of a 'veritable Eden' complete with fertile grasslands and plentiful food.
The abundant supply of kangaroo in particular, and the unfamiliarity of native animals with the swift European hunting dogs, meant that for the first time in the colonial history of Australia any individual equipped with such a dog could reasonably expect to survive outside the restrictions of the penal colony. Even those within it might enjoy a quality of life vastly superior to the penury most had come from. This effectively destroyed the English vision of Australia as a prison without walls, and reinvented