The Past (1997)

Text

Let no one say the past is dead.
The past is all around us and within.
Haunted by tribal memories, I know
This little now, this accidental present
Is not the all of me, whose long making
Is so much of the past.

At daylight in the morning we discoverd a Bay which appeard to be tollerably well sheltrd from all winds into which I resoloved to go with the Ship and with this view set the Master in the Pinnace to sound the entrance while we kept turning up with the Ship having the wind right out.

Let no one say the past is dead.
The past is all around us . . .

Saw as we came in on both points of the bay several of the Natives and a few hutts, Men, women, and children on the south shore abreast of the Ship to which place I went in the boats in hopes of speaking with them accompaned by Mr Banks, Dr Solander, and Tupia; as we approached the shore they all made off, except 2 Men, who seemd resolved to oppose our landing. As soon as I saw this I orderd the boats to lay upon their Oars, in order to speake to them but this was of little purpose for neither us nor Tupia could understand one word they said. We then threw them some nails, beads, &ca . . . We never were able to form any connections with them . . .

Tonight here in suburbia as I sit
In easy chair before electric heater,
Warmed by the red glow, I fall into dream:
I am away
At the camp fire in the bush, among
My own people, sitting on the ground,
No walls around me,
The stars over me,
The tall surrounding trees that stir in the wind
Making their own music,
Soft cries of the night coming to us, there
Where we are one with all old Nature’s lives
Known and unknown,
In scenes where we belong but have now forsaken.

. . . as soon as we put the boat in they again came to oppose us, upon which I fird a musquet between the 2, which had no other Effect than to make them retire back where bundles of thier darts lay, and one of them took up a stone and threw at us which caused my firing a Second Musquet, load with small Shott; and altho some of the shott struck the man yet it had no other effect than making him lay hold of a Shild or target to defend himself. Emmidiatly after this we landed which we had no sooner done than they throwd 2 darts at us; this obliged me to fire a third shott soon after which they both made off . . . We never were able to form any connections with them . . .

Deep chair and electric radiator
Are but since yesterday,
But a thousand camp fires in the forest
Are in my blood.

This morning a party of us went ashore to some hutts not far from the watering place where some of the natives are daly seen; here we left several articles such as cloth, looking glasses, combs, beads, &ca.

Let no one tell me the past is wholly gone.
Now is so small a part of time, so small a part
Of all the race years that have moulded me.

. . . we could not know but very little of their customs as we never were able to form any connections with them, they had not so much as touchd the things we had left in their hutts on purpose for them to take away. During our stay in this Harbour I caused the English Colours to be display’d ashore every day and an inscription to be cut out upon one of the trees (near the watering place) seting forth the Ships name, date, &ca.

Let no one say the past is dead.
The past is all around us and within.

Reviews

The central attraction was the premiere of a major work by Andrew Ford, the [Australian Festival of Chamber Music]'s composer-in-residence. The Past sets a poem of Oodgeroo Noonuccal against James Cook's entries in the Endeavour's log exactly two hundred years earlier. A countertenor (Russell Harcourt) sings both texts, the unearthly quality of that voice-type making them both equally remote, and he is accompanied by string orchestra (the Camerata of St John's), flute and didgeridoo. It is a powerful, atmospheric work, swirling and thundery, and was very well received.

Malcolm Tattersall, Music Forum