Judith Wright's search for an escape

Formative years: Judith Wright's favourite home was her mother’s family property, Thalgarrah. This, the fourth in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands, is the second on poet and writer Judith Wright

In some ways, the first part of poet and writer Judith Wright’s life can be described as a search for escape, escape from the confines of New England, escape from the narrowness of Sydney, escape from the roles and limitations imposed on women.

It can also be thought of as a search for happiness and meaning in often difficult and confusing personal circumstances. During this period she formed those views expressed in her writing that would make her one of Australia’s most prominent literary figures.

Judith was born on 13 May 1915, the first child of Phillip Arundell (PA) Wright and Ethel Mabel Wright nee Bigg.

The fact that Judith was first born is important, for she was born into a world where girls could not inherit. Expected to marry, they received money but could not inherit the land. This would become a tragedy for Judith when, at the end of her life, the beloved properties were lost.

The first part of Judith’s life revolved around station life and multiple homes belonging to family members. Her favourite was her mother’s family home, Thalgarrah.

Thalgarrah was more open than the dark Wallamumbi, set in nice grounds. I also think that the girl was spoiled, loved. Describing it, Judith referred to her mother’s country, an almost identical term used by writer Maslyn Williams as the title of his memoir.

Life at Wallamumbi revolved around Inside and Outside. Inside was the relatively formal life of the homestead and family, Outside the life of the working property.

Initially Judith’s life centered on the Inside, including the Girls, the domestic staff who provided a welcome relief to the greater formality of the homestead itself. Later, Judith would some to love the outside, the broader station.

Judith’s mum became ill with a debilitating disease that finally rendered her a total invalid.

The girl seems to have been bookish from an early age, teaching herself to read from the books around the house. As her mum became sicker, Judith retreated into he books, creating a world of imagination.

Later, Judith would have a sense of guilt about this retreat. She would still go to her mum to read her poems, to tell her about her writing, but didn’t know how to manage her mother’s illness.

Ethel died in 1927. Husband P A was distraught from previous worry and at the loss of his wife. On 21 November 1928 he re-married.

Judith did not get on with her step mother, Dora Isabella Temperley, marking another divide in her life. 

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 18 July 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018 

Judith Wright, a quintessentially New England writer

In her own words: Judith Wright's first book of poems, Moving Image published in 1946 included a number of poems that have become New England classics including "South of my Days".This, the third in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands, is the first of three on poet and writer Judith Wright

Many parts of Australia claim poet and writer Judith Wright as their own.

In Queensland, the State Government has expropriated her for a performing arts centre. Her New England connection is dismissed in just a few words: “Judith Wright was a Queensland resident for over thirty years. She was born in New England, in regional New South Wales, and came to Brisbane as a young woman”.

Her Wikipedia entry notes that she was born in Armidale, but then says she spent most of her formative years in Brisbane and Sydney. Later, Canberra and Braidwood would claim her too.

In all this, Judith remained a quintessentially New England writer. That was where her views were first formed, although her later experiences and especially her relationship with the older novelist and philosopher Jack McKinney would exercise a powerful influence over her.

Judith met Jack McKinney when she moved to Brisbane. He was a much older man, some twenty four years her senior, only two years younger than her father. They fell in love, moving to Mount Tamborine in 1950; daughter Meredith was born in that year. In 1962, Jack and Judith finally married. Four years later Jack died, leaving a hole in Judith’s life.

Jack McKinney was the second of three powerful men in Judith Wright’s life. The first was her father, Phillip Arundell Wright, with whom she shared a middle name. The third was H C “Nugget” Coombs, a noted Australian economist and public servant, with whom she had a twenty five year love affair.

Coombs was again an older man, in this case by nine years. Both were major public figures. Judith was a widow, Coombs long separated from his wife. Both shared common interests, including Aboriginal advancement and the environment. Judith moved to Braidwood to be closer to the Canberra based Coombs, but the affair was kept secret, if open to their friends and the Canberra network within which they moved.

" It was he that gave her that love, affection and unstinting support that seems to shine through in the letters between them."

Each man had a powerful impact on Judith, but I think that it was the father that formed her core views. It was he that gave her that love of the environment and of the country. It was he that gave her that love, affection and unstinting support that seems to shine through in the letters between them.

I think that Judith would accept that conclusion. Whether she would accept my claim that she remained a quintessentially New England writer is more open to question. “You ask me to read those poems I wrote in my thirties?” she wrote in Skins. “They dropped off several incarnations back.”

That may be true and there are reasons for it, but her 1999 autobiographical memoir half a lifetime draws out the continuing importance of her early life history. I will look at this in my next column. 

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 11 July 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018 

Maslyn Williams - the beginnings in Tenterfield and beyond

Maslyn Williams: one of Australia's best post war documentary makers before turning his hand to writing. This the second in a series on growing up on the Northern or New England Tablelands

“He should go to Australia, to his mother’s people,” Uncle George said, “that’s what she always intended.”

The lad listened. Aunt Yvonne was not convinced. ”But he’s got a good brain. He should go to Cambridge like his father.”

Uncle George, a Whitehall civil servant with a practical mind accustomed to shedding responsibility, would have none of this.

“He can go as an immigrant for next to nothing. I’ll arrange it. If he doesn’t like it, he can come back.”

“He should go to Australia, to his mother’s people” Uncle George said; “that’s what she always intended.”.

The lad listened. Aunt Yvonne was not convinced.

”But he’s got a good brain. He should go to Cambridge like his father.” Uncle George, a Whitehall civil servant with a practical mind accustomed to shedding responsibility, would have none of this.

“He can go as an immigrant for next to nothing. I’ll arrange it. If he doesn’t like it, he can come back.”

Robert Ronald Maslyn Williams, the listening lad, was probably around 17. He had been born in 1911. His father, a career military officer, had been killed in the Great War. His mother had just died.

Fate decided, the lad joined a group of young immigrants on the journey to Australia and, in his case to station outside Tenterfield to become a jackeroo. There he fell in love with Australia, ultimately becoming one of this country’s best known documentary film makers and writers.

It is clear that the lad was interested in writing from the beginning, although his taste first ran to poetry. He kept notes, wrote descriptions and long letter to his Aunt Yvonne.

In 1988, the 77 year old Williams used those notes and letters to write an award winning biographical memoir, His Mother's Country (Melbourne University Press), looking back at the lad (he refers to himself as the lad through out) coming of age on the Tablelands. It was a time when life seemed to be “permanently sunlit”.

The first part of the book outlines why he came, the voyage, reactions to Sydney and describes the long train trip to Tenterfield on the Brisbane Mail, a description that would be instantly familiar to older New Englanders.

The lad knew little of Australia, less of the country or farm work and nothing about his destination. This was his introduction to the new, to strangeness that would soon become familiar.

At Tenterfield, the lad was met by the boss who managed the station on behalf of the family and taken to his new home. It was a large and well established place, a self-contained world, a small village.

One core focus in the book from this point is station life, work and people, as the lad learns to do his job and establishes his place. A second is the lad’s growing involvement in the life of Tenterfield and, to a lesser extent, the nearby big town of Glen Innes.

Final acceptance comes when the irascible and taciturn overseer Old Mackie, the Old Man, is hurt in an accident and the lad has to go for help. Two days later, a heavily bandaged Mackie comes in for breakfast, sits down and looks straight at the lad and says “G’day”.

The book ends with the lad’s departure for England following a further intervention by Uncle George. It’s clear, though, that the lad will return to Australia.

Note to readers: This post appeared as a column in the Armidale Express Extra on 27 June 2018. I am repeating the columns here with a lag because they are not all on line outside subscription. You can see all the Belshaw World and History Revisited/History Matters columns by clicking here for 2009, here for 2010, here for 2011, here for 2012, here for 2013, here for 2014, here for 2015, here for 2016, here  2017, here 2018