1In April 1770, Captain James Cook dropped anchor in Botany Bay, on the eastern coast of Australia. Eighteen years later, Arthur Phillip led the First Fleet of Convicts into Sydney Cove, a few miles north of Botany Bay, and began the inexorable process of displacing Aborigines from their tribal lands. White settlement in Australia had started. The beginnings of European colonisation were hardly of a kind to elevate the soul: for the first 30 years of its history, Australia was seen, primarily, as a dumping ground for Britain’s overflowing criminal population. However, the early imagery focusing on European presence in Australia is not always negative. In particular, the founding moment of British civilisation on that remote island, as portrayed in a late eighteenth-century print by engraver T. Gosse, is shown in a most flattering light.

2This may appear paradoxical, considering that, on the whole, turn-of-the-century artists interested in depictions of Australia tended to subscribe to the theory of the Noble Savage, and therefore promote the Rousseauist opposition between corrupting civilisation and unsullied nature. So, in what sense exactly did T. Gosse deviate from that standard pattern? Did he simply switch polar values around, and offer the picture of a triumphant social world at the expense of the bad old native? Or did he somehow manage to reconcile two terms, Civilisation and Aboriginality, which, since the beginning of European exploration around the globe, had been presented in an antagonistic relationship?

4This symbolic intent is certainly confirmed when one contrasts the picture, which represents the settlement of Sydney Cove (Port Jackson) in 1788, with the historical records. In fact, only officers, sailors, marines and convicts (both men and women) were on board the first ships bound for Australia. No civilians, i.e. no free settlers, had been admitted. The men in the picture, however, definitely look more like colonists than convicts. The hunter on the left proves the point: even though most of the Prisoners of Her Majesty went about their business in the vast Australian jail without wearing chains, someone serving a sentence would certainly not have been allowed to shoot a gun.

1) The Sacred Triangle and the Universal Tree

6We are left, therefore, with a very confident scene depicting one naval officer in the centre (who looks too young to be Governor Arthur Phillip), surrounded by a number of busy settlers, as well as an Aborigine. Now, the symbolic scheme of the picture begins to emerge when it becomes clear that the overall composition of the work is based on the triangle. In fact, the whole image is constructed on recurring pyramidal patterns – some pointing upwards, some downwards (Figure 1).

7Significantly, the large upward-pointing pyramid (A-B-C), which is itself made up of 4 triangles (determined by the position of the various human figures), is strongly reminiscent of some examples of religious art (Figure 2).

9This reading may be applied to Gosse’s print, whose composition also reveals two complementary movements, one pointing upwards, the other downwards. As in sacred art, the central pyramid made up by the tent (A-B-C) symbolizes spiritual ascent to the heavens. This rising vector is emphasized by the direction of the gun, which is aimed at the sky, and by the raised finger of the man in the orange coat. In keeping with religious symbolism, the large up-pointing pyramid is also associated with fire and the active male principle: smoke rises up from the centre of the picture, where the male figures are congregated, as well as from the shooting gun on the left. Now, this uplifting pattern is contrasted by the downward movement of the inverted pyramids (divine grace coming to earth). The descending vector is repeated in the lowered fingers of (a) the man in the light brown jacket and (b) the naval officer. It is also written into the body language of the four people at the bottom, who are all looking or bending down. Typically, at least two of the down-pointing pyramids are connected with water and the female principle: the large triangle on the left (B’-B-A) points to the sea turtle, the small triangle in the centre points to a woman, who ‘passively’ assists her wood-cutting companion by holding some logs ready for him. Finally, just as in fig. 3, a ‘holy Trinity’ of natural elements is presented through the use of animal symbolism: the earth (represented by the ox and its ploughing skills), water (represented by the sea turtle), and the air (represented by the birds).

11The sacred symbolism of the triangle is complemented by another figure, that of the tree. Indeed, the pyramid of the tent is built along the same axis as a large tree (in fact, the V-shape of the trunk is mirrored in the V-shape of the tent). The tree – again a powerful symbol in many cultures – is often used to symbolize the ascent towards Heaven, as well as the central axis of the universe around which everything is organized. In that second sense, the symbolic tree, which is sometimes referred to as the ‘Tree of the World’, and which we could also nickname the ‘Universal Tree’, serves as the link between the three major realms: the underworld (the roots), the terrestrial sphere (the trunk) and the celestial kingdom (the leaves). In Gosse’s picture, the value of the Universal Tree is bolstered by another facet of the turtle symbolism. Indeed, the turtle is not simply a figure of fecundity. Because it unites the Heaven (its dome-like back) with the Earth (its flat underbelly), it may also suggest the whole universe. The shell-covered animal often functions not just as a cosmography (i.e. a representation of the universe), but as a cosmophore (the carrier of the world). It is therefore logical to find the turtle, the carrier of the universe, at the base of the picture.

12Thus the combined symbolism of the Triangle, the Universal Tree and the Cosmophoric Turtle emphasize (1) access to divine enlightenment (whether by ascent or descent) and (2) universal unity (i.e. the union of the three major kingdoms of the universe). The central figure of the naval officer epitomizes this cosmic balance by offering a visual summary of the major motifs in the scene. His hat is triangular, pointing upwards (spiritual ascent), but his hand points downwards (divine power coming to earth), while his baton is held horizontally, suggesting that he constitutes a point of equilibrium, or a form of synthesis, between ascent and descent, between Heaven, the surface world and the underworld. This is confirmed by the decoration on his hat, which seems to function as a miniature version of the Universal Tree, with its emphasis on the union between the three realms.

2) The End of the Noble Savage

13A second type of tree can be identified. What is meant to pass for a eucalyptus on the right-hand side bears a strong resemblance to the Tree of Knowledge. The naked Aborigine stands by the tree just like the equally naked Adam and Eve. Like them, he holds a large leaf over his genitals, and he also raises his hand as if in shame of his nakedness. In addition, ivy winds around the trunk in a manner which is definitely reminiscent of the infamous Serpent of Eden. In other words, the scene offers a dualistic picture of the failure and success, or to be more precise, a picture of failure which is then commuted into success. Like the ancient Adam, the Aborigine has just fallen from Grace. He has tasted from the apple of knowledge (i.e. civilisation) and must be expelled from the Garden of Eden. The two distant Aboriginal figures on the right-hand side remind one of Adam and Eve wandering through the desert after the Fall. Translated into the philosophical terms of the eighteenth century, this represents the end of the Noble Savage, of that pure state of Nature unburdened by social fabrications. Civilisation has come and the gentle native has been corrupted.

14Paradoxically, this is where the logic of corruption ends. The Aborigine has been perverted, but there is no evil hand. Or, to put it differently, what ‘perverted’ him turns out, in fact, to be a force for Good. The group of Whites are all busy changing and transforming their environment, but this change is subsumed into the larger framework of the sacred Triangle and the Universal Tree, and consequently presented in a positive light. Alteration does not mean corruption, but progress and spiritual improvement. The Noble Savage has been expelled from the Australian Eden, but Australia will be saved by the white man, the new messenger of God. Through the industry of the white man, divine Grace will be restored, universal order and unity will be achieved, and the synthesis of the three kingdoms of Heaven, Earth and the Underworld will be effected.

15Civilised man is therefore shown to be more ‘complete’ than the Aborigine, who, conversely, is now seen as a rough, unfinished version of humankind. Like the pig, the Black man is portrayed with green leaves. So, like the pig, the symbol of dark, impulsive human forces awaiting to be refined, the native must be subjected to the process of self-improvement, and begin his spiritual ascent to Heaven. Significantly, the man in the orange coat seems to be inviting the Aborigine to begin that elevated journey. In that sense, a new paradigm of racial representation is emerging behind the figure of the Noble Savage: that of the Aborigine as a primitive being, the uncouth origin of civilised man. Gosse’s picture marks the transition between the old eighteenth-century Noble Savage theory and the new vision of the Aborigine as less advanced than the white man, a vision which dominated much of the nineteenth and twentieth century.

3) The ‘Aboriginal’ White Man

16However, this transition should not be misinterpreted. It is not simply a case of getting rid of the Noble Savage and the pure state of nature, and replacing him with civilised man and his buildings. The newcomer does not deny or eradicate Nature. Rather, he integrates the state of nature within himself. This is very strongly suggested by a number of motifs and visual similarities in the scene: (1) the central tree is an extension of the tent; (2) the man in the orange coat wears a hat with extravagant feathers which replicate the crest of a native bird, and the colour of his coat is almost exactly the same as that of the parrots on the left; (3) the rifle prolongs, as it were, the branch of the tree, so that it almost looks as if the man is holding part of the tree, with its highly decorative bunch of flower-like birds; (4) the man grabbing the turtle is bending over in a way which reminds us of the turtle itself – the shape of his back mimics the animal’s shell; (5) the colour symbolism also confirms the pervading presence of nature within civilisation; in particular, the colour green, a frequent indicator of natural elements, is found here not just in the trees and the large leaf held by the Aborigine, but also in the coats of the hunter and the naval officer, as well as the waistcoat of the turtle man.

4) The Hidden Face of the Romantic Founding Father

18However, the romantic emphasis in the picture cannot be reduced to a simple mathematical formula. The divine marriage of the soul with nature is more than just a ‘function’ with predictable results, for it also opens the door on the world of the unknowable. The figure of concealment and mystery is unmistakably woven into the fabric of the scene. With its draped entrance slightly pulled aside and its base partially masked by the rising smoke, the tent seems to have been transformed into an apparition rising in ghostly fashion through the mist. It is also suggestive of a giant veil presided over by a glamorous conjurer (the naval officer) who wields the proverbial magic wand: what wondrous entity is waiting to pop out from behind the cloth? The figure of the unseen is confirmed by the hidden faces of 6 out of the 9 characters. Obviously, some tantalizing secret is lurking behind the veil, the smoke screen and the turned heads.

20Gosse’s mezzotint offers a strong ideological justification for the colonisation of Australia. Civilised man is not, we are told, the destroyer of the Noble Savage and all that is good in nature. He will bring spiritual advancement to the new continent, because it is through him that the grace of God can successfully invest and work the land. The Garden of Eden is unfortunately no more, but the New Jerusalem has come: the New Jerusalem, i.e. the ultimate model of human society after the Fall, a balanced microcosm fashioned by romantic ideals of divine union between man and nature. In fact, romanticism provides a most convenient avenue for reconciling civilisation and nature at the very moment when the ‘pure’ state of nature so dear to Noble Savage theorists is being irrevocably altered and transformed. As Gosse suggests, the white man is not alien in the new continent, but already weaving intimate threads of kinship with the land; already inventing his own brand of Aboriginality. As we have just seen, however, a ‘price’ has to be paid for treading the romantic path. The mystery, phantoms and ambiguities inherent in the romantic project are also transferred to the colonial mission: who, in the last resort, is the new comer presented by Gosse? The flamboyant messenger of God’s truth in nature? Or a deeper, more complex figure which always, somehow, subverts the transparent state of enlightened understanding?

21Two hundred years later, the white man is still trying to come to terms with his own indigeneity, still busy devising bonds of kinship with the land, still not totally sure of his legitimate position in the vast, sun-scorched continent. The ambiguities hinted at in Gosse’s picture proved real indeed. For inside the tent were not just dreams of a higher and better world, but also the wild, sometimes terrifying spirals of the Imagination, which, among other things, all but wiped out the original inhabitants of Australia. However, it is a measure of the late comer’s moral progress that, today, his claim to the continent is at least partially dependent upon his attempt to reconcile himself with the first people of the land. The initial bid to bridge the gap between Civilisation and Aboriginality is still there, but the Black fellow has now been reinstated as an integral part of the equation.