- Home
- Quintessential Queensland
- Distinctiveness
- Perceptions
- Perceptions: how people understand the landscape
- From runs to closer settlement
- Geological survey of Queensland
- Mapping a new colony, 1860-80
- Mapping the Torres Strait: from TI to Magani Malu and Zenadh Kes
- Order in Paradise: a colonial gold field
- Queensland atlas, 1865
- Queensland mapping since 1900
- Queensland: the slogan state
- Rainforests of North Queensland
- Walkabout
- Queenslanders
- Queenslanders: people in the landscape
- Aboriginal heroes: episodes in the colonial landscape
- Australian South Sea Islanders
- Cane fields and solidarity in the multiethnic north
- Chinatowns
- Colonial immigration to Queensland
- Greek Cafés in the landscape of Queensland
- Hispanics and human rights in Queensland’s public spaces
- Italians in north Queensland
- Lebanese in rural Queensland
- Queensland clothing
- Queensland for ‘the best kind of population, primary producers’
- Too remote, too primitive and too expensive: Scandinavian settlers in colonial Queensland
- Distance
- Movement
- Movement: how people move through the landscape
- Air travel in Queensland
- Bicycling through Brisbane, 1896
- Cobb & Co
- Journey to Hayman Island, 1938
- Law and story-strings
- Mobile kids: children’s explorations of Cherbourg
- Movable heritage of North Queensland
- Passages to India: military linkages with Queensland
- The Queen in Queensland, 1954
- Transient Chinese in colonial Queensland
- Travelling times by rail
- Pathways
- Pathways: how things move through the landscape and where they are made
- Aboriginal dreaming paths and trading ways
- Chinese traders in the nineteenth century
- Introducing the cane toad
- Pituri bag
- Press and the media
- Radio in Queensland
- Red Cross Society and World War I in Queensland
- The telephone in Queensland
- Where did the trams go?
- ‘A little bit of love for me and a murder for my old man’: the Queensland Bush Book Club
- Movement
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- Separation
- Separation: divisions in the landscape
- Asylums in the landscape
- Brisbane River
- Changing landscape of radicalism
- Civil government boundaries
- Convict Brisbane
- Dividing Queensland - Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party
- High water mark: the shifting electoral landscape 2001-12
- Hospitals in the landscape
- Indigenous health
- Palm Island
- Secession movements
- Separate spheres: gender and dress codes
- Separating land, separating culture
- Stone walls do a prison make: law on the landscape
- The 1967 Referendum – the State comes together?
- Utopian communities
- Whiteness in the tropics
- Conflict
- Conflict: how people contest the landscape
- A tale of two elections – One Nation and political protest
- Battle of Brisbane – Australian masculinity under threat
- Dangerous spaces - youth politics in Brisbane, 1960s-70s
- Fortress Queensland 1942-45
- Grassy hills: colonial defence and coastal forts
- Great Shearers’ Strike of 1891
- Iwasaki project
- Johannes Bjelke-Petersen: straddling a barbed wire fence
- Mount Etna: Queensland's longest environmental conflict
- Native Police
- Skyrail Cairns (Research notes)
- Staunch but conservative – the trade union movement in Rockhampton
- The Chinese question
- Thomas Wentworth Wills and Cullin-la-ringo Station
- Separation
- Dreaming
- Imagination
- Imagination: how people have imagined Queensland
- Brisbane River and Moreton Bay: Thomas Welsby
- Changing views of the Glasshouse Mountains
- Imagining Queensland in film and television production
- Jacaranda
- Literary mapping of Brisbane in the 1990s
- Looking at Mount Coot-tha
- Mapping the Macqueen farm
- Mapping the mythic: Hugh Sawrey's ‘outback’
- People’s Republic of Woodford
- Poinsettia city: Brisbane’s flower
- The Pineapple Girl
- The writers of Tamborine Mountain
- Vance and Nettie Palmer
- Memory
- Memory: how people remember the landscape
- Anna Wickham: the memory of a moment
- Berajondo and Mill Point: remembering place and landscape
- Cemeteries in the landscape
- Landscapes of memory: Tjapukai Dance Theatre and Laura Festival
- Monuments and memory: T.J. Byrnes and T.J. Ryan
- Out where the dead towns lie
- Queensland in miniature: the Brisbane Exhibition
- Roadside ++++ memorials
- Shipwrecks as graves
- The Dame in the tropics: Nellie Melba
- Tinnenburra
- Vanished heritage
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- Curiosity: knowledge through the landscape
- A playground for science: Great Barrier Reef
- Duboisia hopwoodii: a colonial curiosity
- Great Artesian Basin: water from deeper down
- In search of Landsborough
- James Cook’s hundred days in Queensland
- Mutual curiosity – Aboriginal people and explorers
- Queensland Acclimatisation Society
- Queensland’s own sea monster: a curious tale of loss and regret
- St Lucia: degrees of landscape
- Townsville’s Mount St John Zoo
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- Transformation: how the landscape has changed and been modified
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- Empire and agribusiness: the Australian Mercantile Land and Finance Company
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- Kill, cure, or strangle: Atherton Tablelands
- National parks in Queensland
- Pastoralism 1860s–1915
- Prickly pear
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- The Brigalow
- Walter Reid Cultural Centre, Rockhampton: back again
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- Survival: how the landscape impacts on people
- Brisbane floods: 1893 to the summer of sorrow
- City of the Damned: how the media embraced the Brisbane floods
- Depression era
- Did Clem Jones save Brisbane from flood?
- Droughts and floods and rail
- Missions and reserves
- Queensland British Food Corporation
- Rockhampton’s great flood of 1918
- Station homesteads
- Tropical cyclones
- Wreck of the Quetta
- Pleasure
- Pleasure: how people enjoy the landscape
- Bushwalking in Queensland
- Cherbourg that’s my home: celebrating landscape through song
- Creating rural attractions
- Festivals
- Queer pleasure: masculinity, male homosexuality and public space
- Railway refreshment rooms
- Regional cinema
- Schoolies week: a festival of misrule
- The sporting landscape
- Visiting the Great Barrier Reef
By:
Jennifer Harrison Between September 1824 and late 1839 a small remote penal settlement was established at Moreton Bay on Australia’s north-eastern coast. After seven months, the initial encampment at Redcliffe was transferred seventeen miles along the Brisbane River, this site being the origin of Brisbane, the capital of the colony, and later, state of Queensland.
The Bay had been known since Lieutenant James Cook, sailing New Holland’s eastern coastline in 1770, paid tribute to James Douglas, 14th Earl of Morton, the President of the Royal Society, when naming a stretch of water on the eastern side of sand islands to the north of Point Lookout. During the next fifty years Matthew Flinders, avoiding numerous shoals, traversed the waters to the west of these islands. Then in 1822 both John Bingle and William Edwardson also were exploring in the area. All these navigators missed any indication of a large river entering Moreton Bay.
Moreton Bay
In October 1823, the Surveyor General, Lieutenant John Oxley, left Sydney in the Mermaid under orders from Governor Sir Thomas Brisbane to investigate three sites on the northern coast. In his 1822 report, Commissioner John Bigge had surmised that these might be suitable for penal colonies intended to isolate recidivists from the expanding free population of Sydney and its environs. After two weeks around Port Curtis and deciding not to visit Port Bowen (near Rockhampton), Oxley turned southwards making his way to Moreton Bay. Guided by two former convicts now shipwrecked, Thomas Pamphlett and John Finnegan, Oxley investigated an expansive riverflow which he named for the governor. He recommended this district as the most appropriate situation for accommodating convicts. By now the name of the Bay had devolved into Moreton and the appellation had transferred to the sheltered landward waters between the islands and the mainland.
Town of Brisbane
Although only 6.25º latitude to the north of Port Jackson, depending on winds, the voyage to the northern settlement could take between four and fourteen days each way. The length of these journeys emphasised differences between headquarters and its latest outpost. The town of Brisbane was more distant from the entrance to Moreton Bay than Parramatta was from Port Jackson heads. With the advent of the colonial era, the formerly untouched landscape was explored, mapped, defined, cleared, ploughed and built upon. Indigenous peoples were marginalised as British incomers adopted the traditional European practice of conquest and direct rule. Set in a normally sunburnt, sub-tropical climate where vegetation grew quickly and often impenetrably, reliance on usually abundant cereals and vegetables could be limited by intensely heavy rain, marked by frightening thunder and lightning, which might demolish crops and slab buildings in minutes.
The precinct extended from the Amity pilot station and Dunwich buildings on Stradbroke Island westwards via the Cowpers Plains sheep, cattle and sawyer’s station and Redbank to Limestone about twenty-five miles from Brisbane Town. To the south, a military post established where the mountains almost touched the sea near Port Danger, thwarted many escapes while use of land in a northerly direction mainly was limited to the river bank plus the agricultural station at Eagle Farm. Later a proclamation prohibited wandering squatters from venturing within fifty miles of the penal settlement.
Remoteness and loneliness
Initially less than sixty people built a depot which increasingly expanded to house additional convicts and small increments in their military guard. In the years to May 1839, when nearly all the settlement’s population was evacuated to Sydney, just over 2400 convicts, 800 soldiers and close to three dozen civilians had lived there. Some wives and children accompanied the administrators, military and prisoners but everyone was challenged by the remoteness and loneliness. The sense of isolation no doubt contributed to acts of cruelty which later were banished from emerging community memory except for local place-names which preserved both sponsors and agents.
On 10 February 1842, three years after the penal colony officially closed, the district was proclaimed open to free settlers. New residents found a frontier town with vestiges of suburbs, basic government buildings, a network of roads and a navigable river. Ready access to expansive tracts of country more than compensated for any perceived lack of refinements. With the influx of pastoralists and house-holders with optimistic ideas of civilising their surroundings, another layer of history and culture was superimposed on the visible, but as yet unfamiliar, topography.
Visible reminders
In the twenty-first century only two buildings remain from the convict era: the Commissariat Store by the banks of the river and, on the western ridge, a tower used for punishment as a treadmill. One floor of the Store now displays Royal Historical Society of Queensland collections while the two others have reception rooms for regular meetings and lectures plus a library for researchers. The tower mill, on the other hand, is deserted and rarely visited by the public. These two convict relics vividly exemplify divisions in Brisbane’s cultural landscape: the active one representing a living realm of memory with the other withdrawing into the dead past of history.
One Sunday morning as I went walking
By Brisbane waters I chanced to stray
I heard a convict his fate bewailing
As on the sunny river bank I lay
I am a native from Erin's island
But banished now from my native shore
They stole me from my aged parents
And from the maiden I do adore
I've been a prisoner at Port Macquarie
At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains
At Castle Hill and at cursed Toongabbie
At all these settlements I've been in chains
But of all places of condemnation
And penal stations in New South Wales
To Moreton Bay I have found no equal
Excessive tyranny each day prevails
For three long years I was beastly treated
And heavy irons on my legs I wore
My back from flogging was lacerated
And oft times painted with my crimson gore
And many a man from downright starvation
Lies mouldering now underneath the clay
And Captain Logan he had us mangled
All at the triangles of Moreton Bay
Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews
We were oppressed under Logan's yoke
Till a native black lying there in ambush
Did deal this tyrant his mortal stroke
My fellow prisoners be exhilarated
That all such monsters such a death may find
And when from bondage we are liberated
Our former sufferings will fade from mind
Quoted in Geoffrey C. Ingleton, True patriots all, Sydney, Angus & Robertson, 1952