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UBC Theses and Dissertations

A geography of adventure Phillips, Richard Simon 1994

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A GEOGRAPHY OF ADVENTURE By RICHARD SIMON PHILLIPS B.Sc. (Hons.) University of Bristol, 1986 M. A. University of California, Santa Barbara, 1988 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Geography) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA December, 1994 ©Richard Simon Phillips, 1994 In presentin g thi s thesi s i n partia l fulfilmen t o f th e requirement s fo r a n advance d degree a t th e Universit y o f Britis h Columbia , I  agre e tha t th e Librar y shal l mak e i t freely availabl e fo r referenc e an d study . I  furthe r agre e tha t permissio n fo r extensiv e copying o f thi s thesi s fo r scholarl y purpose s ma y b e grante d b y th e hea d o f m y department o r b y hi s o r he r representatives . I t i s understoo d tha t copyin g o r publication o f thi s thesi s fo r financia l gai n shal l no t b e allowe d withou t m y writte n permission. (Signature) Department o f (f^o^r^f^^i The Universit y o f Britis h Columbi a Vancouver, Canad a Date ao P* C w v DE-6 (2/88 ) TABLE OF CONTENTS Page ABSTRACT ii TABLE OF CONTENTS iii LIST OF TABLES vi LIST OF FIGURES vii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ix CHAPTER ONE INTRODUCTION: ADVENTURES IN THE NEW WORLD 1 Mapping adventures 12 Unmapping adventures: critical perspectives 17 (Re)reading adventures: what follows 20 CHAPTER TWO MAPPING ADVENTURES: ROBINSON CRUSOE AND SOME VICTORIAN ROBINSONADES 24 Robinson Crusoe  in nineteenth-century Britain 25 The geography of Robinson Crusoe  34 Mapping Crusoe 35 Mapping the island 38 Canadian Crusoes:  mapping a British colony 42 The Coral  Island: mapping the Victorian world 47 Adventures in context 50 i i i CHAPTER THREE GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE/ BECOMING SOMETHING ELSE: BECOMING MANLY IN R.M. BALLANTYNE'S THE YOUNG FUR TRADERS  53 R.M. Ballantyne and The  Young Fur Traders  54 Victorian boys' stories and politics of manliness 64 Rites of passage in The Young Fur Traders  72 Gendered narratives, gendered spaces, gendered subjects 93 CHAPTER FOUR ADVENTURE STORIES AND IMPERIAL DREAMS: THE AUSTRALIAN INTERIOR IN ERNEST FAVENC'S EXPLORER STORIES 95 Colonists reading adventures 97 Exploration stories retold 99 Colonists writing adventures: Ernest Favenc 103 Beginning with a blank chart: Favenc's History  106 Imagining a blank chart: Favenc's Secret  111 National landscape 121 Conclusion 125 CHAPTER FIVE THE AMBIVALENCE OF ADVENTURE: BOY TRAMPS AND GIRL HEROES IN CANADIAN SETTLEMENT STORIES 127 Boy Tramps: ambivalent adventurers, out-of-place adventures 129 Girl heroes 145 Female emigrants and settlers 154 Conclusion 161 i v CHAPTER SIX UNMAPPING ADVENTURES: SAILING OFF THE MAP IN GABRIEL DE FOIGNY'S NEW DISCOVERY OF  TERRA INCOGNITA A USTRALIS 162 Voyages imaginaires: Foigny's Terre  Australe Connue  165 A critical image: perilous journey, departure 170 Critical, realistic geography: a hazy outline and an unknown interior 176 Sadeur's return 182 Conclusion 185 CHAPTER SEVEN UNMAPPING ADVENTURES: POST-COLONIAL ROBINSONS AND ROBINSONADES 187 Returning to Ballantyne's island: unmapping manliness 190 Unmapping Defoe's island: denaturalising Crusoe's world 198 Conclusion 211 CHAPTER EIGHT CONCLUSION: ADVENTURE AND THE REINVENTION OF THE WORLD: VIOLENCE AND LIBERATION 213 BIBLIOGRAPHY 220 General 220 Primarily Australian content 230 Primarily Canadian content 236 v LIST OF TABLES Page 3.1 Favorite authors 56 3.2 Favorite magazines and papers 74 v i LIST OF FIGURES Page 1.1 Treasure  Island (1902): original map illustration 3 1.2 Orbis  Terrae Compendiosa Descriptio (1587) 4 2.1 Robinson  Crusoe  (1719): frontispiece and title page 26 2.2 Robinson  Crusoe  (1719): map showing the voyages of Robinson Crusoe 27 2.3 Robinson  Crusoe  in Words of One Syllable (1868): frontispiece and title page 33 2.4 The  Coral  Island (1858): shark encounter 46 3.1 Snowflakes  and Sunbeams  (1856 Nelson edition): title page 55 3.2 The  Young  Fur Traders  (1896 Nelson edition): title page 58 3.3 The  Young  Fur Traders  (1925 Blackie edition): frontispiece 59 3.4 Ballantyne in Scotland, dressed as voyageur 60 3.5 Books as prizes and presents 69 3.6 The  Boys' Own  Paper (1883), cover story by Ballantyne 70 3.7 Arrowsmith map of Canada (1854) 75 3.8 Snowflakes  and Sunbeams  (1856): Hammy on snow shoes 90 4.1 The  Secret of the Australian Desert (1896): front cover 96 4.2 Pastoral expansion in Australia 105 4.3 The  Secret of the Australian Desert (1896): the death of Leichhardt 112 4.4 The  Secret of the Australian Desert (1896): route map 119 5.1 Map showing western provinces and route of Canadian Pacific Railway (1915) 130 5.2 The  Boy Tramps  (1896): front cover 136 v i i 5.3 The  Boy Tramps (1896): Arthur with caged bear 142 5.4 Daughters  of the Dominion (1908): front cover 144 5.5 Map showing the location of Lytton and route of CPR 151 5.6 Daughters  of the Dominion (1908): Nell on show shoes 152 5.7 Daughters  of the Dominion (1908): Nell's injury 157 6.1 New  Discovery of Terra Incognita Australis (1693): title page 163 7.1 The  Coral  Island (1957): frontispiece and title page 191 7.2 Robinson  Crusoe  (1946): frontispiece and title page 199 7.3 Friday  and Robinson (1972): illustration 207 v i i i ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Like many of the adventures I interpret in this thesis, my story begins one day when a restless young man, far from his native England, finds himself deposited on a foreign shore, unaware of where he is and, to some extent, who he is. Through a series of exciting adventures, which lead some to call him "Dr. Beach" and leave others wondering just what he is up to, the hero comes to some kind of knowledge, and survives. Retelling his story today, back in Britain, the old adventurer sometimes admits that he did not face the unknown single-handed. He had not been on the foreign shore long when he encountered a wise old scholar, a man who fed him with strange beetroot soup and with the plums of his own tree, warned him that he was perched on the very edge of the wilderness, and then advised him to quietly "muse and wallow" on his predicament, before striking out into the British Columbian forest of signs (Cole Harris). Many wild beasts and wild men (who will not be named) were encountered on the journey that followed, although friendly faces also appeared from time to time, guiding him on his way through the wilderness. Colleagues of the old scholar stopped to help the young man, providing him with food and wine, and suggesting safe routes through the forests of Canadian and Australian literature (Bill New), cultural studies (Derek Gregory), juvenile literature (Sheila Egoff) and historical geography (Graeme Wynn). A teller of tales, the adventurer greatly enjoyed the company of those who would listen, sometimes replying with words of encouragement, sometimes with disbelief, sometimes with tales of their own (Alison Blunt, Adrienne Webb, Chris Woodland, David Demeritt, Eli Franco, Howard Kwan, Joan Calderhead, Katy Pickles, Kevin Park, Marc Brosseau, Mark Duffet, Martin and Juliet H'Evans, Michael Cathcart, Michael and Mona Smayra, Miguel Lopez, Rachana Raizada, Sherman and Lillian Levine, Stacy Warren, Yas Quereshi). Those dramatis personae gave the adventure variety, action, dialogue and romance, and they will not be forgotten by the protagonist, who is presently gazing out of his office window, into the hazy distance of the Irish Sea. Others who made the adventure possible include Jill Allbrooke (British Library), Mary Baxter (Scottish Book Centre), Terry Clark (Vancouver Public Library), the staff of Special Collections, University of British Columbia, and the Government of Canada (Commonwealth Scholarship). i x CHAPTER ONE INTRODUCTION: ADVENTURES IN THE NEW WORLD Now when I was a little chap I had a passion for maps. I would look for hours at South America, or Africa, or Australia, and lose myself in all the glories of exploration. At that time there were many blank spaces on the earth, and when I saw one that looked particularly inviting on a map (but they all look like that) I would put my finger on it and say, 'When I grow up I will go there.' (Conrad, 1983: 71) Marlow, Joseph Conrad's adventurer in Heart of Darkness (1899), recalls his boyhood fantasies of adventure, which were freely accommodated by the blank spaces he found on maps. Generations of adventure writers, heroes and readers have been inspired by sketchy-looking maps, both real and imaginary, which seem to invite their geographical fantasies. Robert Louis Stevenson was inspired to write the adventure classic Treasure Island (1882) when he was gazing at the map of an imaginary island he had drawn for his young stepson (figure 1.1) . The map, which appears in his story, shows an island "Offe Caraccas", and includes some cryptic directions to buried treasure. "Brief" though it is, the document fills the young hero, Jim Hawkins, and his fellow adventurers "with delight" (Stevenson, 1962: 47). Jules Verne, too, is said to have dreamed up adventure stories while gazing at maps and charts (Aitchison, 1909: 557). Many adventures have begun in this way, as outline maps (like Jim's), or terrae incognitae on larger maps (like Verne's), chart spaces in which anything seems possible and adventure seems inevitable. In these malleable spaces, writers and readers of adventure stories dream of the world(s) they might find, the adventures they might have, the kinds of men and women they might become. 1 Anonymous introduction to Treasure Island (Stevenson, 1962: 3). Macgregor (1989: 19) writes that the map was drawn by, rather than for, Stevenson's stepson Lloyd. Treasure Island was initially published in serialised form as The Sea Cook, by Captain George North (Turner, 1957: 91). The first illustrated, book-length Treasure Island was published in 1885 (Whalley and Chester, 1988). Stevenson (1828-1905) lived and wrote in Edinburgh, but travelled widely. l Arthur Ransome, author of adventure stories such as Swallows and Amazons (1930), sketched out a genealogy of modern2 British3 adventure in a reading list intended for children who had enjoyed his own books (Hardyment, 1984: 220). The list begins with Robinson Crusoe, which Ransome says is "a very important book for those of you who want to know what to do on a desert island. It is also good about shipwrecks and voyages". Also included in Ransome's list is Stevenson's Treasure Island, R.M. Ballantyne's The Coral Island (1857) and Midshipman Easy (1836), by Captain Marryat. The Coral Island and Midshipman Easy, and to a lesser extent Treasure Island, are all "Robinsonades", stories modelled on Robinson Crusoe (Green, 1990). The term "Robinsonade", from the German "die Robinsonade", refers to the predominantly European genre of realistic survival and adventure stories, most (but not all) of which were published after Robinson Crusoe.  Also included in Ransome's list were Robinsonades that readers would find in the adult rather than the children's rooms of their library, including "the works of Joseph Conrad" and Herman Melville's novels, Typee  (1846) and Moby Dick (1851). Another adventure classic on the list, and one that would be found on the non-fiction rather than the fiction shelves, was Richard Hakluyt's Voyages  (1589). 2 I use the term "modern" to refer to an historical period, beginning in this case with the first European "discoveries" in (what became) America at the end of the fifteenth century, and continuing through the present. I refer to a period, not to any intrinsically "modern" cultural, economic or political form. 3 I refer to Britain rather than England throughout this thesis, since the Empire was British rather than English, and since Scots were prominent in the writing, publishing and reading of adventure stories, as they were in practical acts of colonisation. I refer mainly to the period when Scotland was united with England and Wales, in Great Britain. ^ Hermann Ullrich coined the term Robinsonade in 1898, in the title of his bibliographical study, Robinson und Robinsonaden. French critics, following Ullrich, use the term "la robinsonnade", a form of voyage imaginaire (Green, 1990). ^ Many later exploration and travel adventures were written, in a lively but plain style. The Journals of Captain Cook,  for example, are a series of adventure stories written in very plain English, after the style of Daniel Defoe. Like Defoe, Cook was a "genius of the matter-of-fact", as his biographer, J.C. Beaglehole, put it (Green, 1990: 71). 2 Figure 1.1 Treasure Island, original illustration by Wal Paget (source: Stevenson, 1902: facing 1). J-0 i. 1**V\ttW<i?--- ' • > " Vc.->w.>.-.-..r/;v/(«Y;-=-.-.'---t7/ > i : ; - f c s . ' ; ? \ , ; '£/» f *fri<fd J/UIC-4 r*r*fy cf^Tijjma^j . 3 Figure 1.2 Orbis  Terrae Compendiosa Descriptio by Rumold Mercator, 1587 (source: Nordenskiold, 1889: plate XLVII). Mercator 1587, based on Gerard Mercator's map of 1569, was probably issued as a separate sheet map before appearing in the Mercator Atlas in 1595 (Moreland and Bannister, 1986: 243). Australia and North America present the biggest blank spaces. 4 Ransome's history of adventure roughly spans the European age of exploration, when Europeans were exploring and mapping what they called the "new world". European geographers sketched the general outlines of Africa, the Americas and the "southern continent" (which originally included Australia and Antarctica). Australia and North America presented the most striking blanks on maps of the world, such as Mercator's famous and much-copied 1587 map (figure 1.2). Throughout the course of the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, they filled the hazy outlines on their sea charts and maps with names and symbols. "By this time," Conrad's Marlow continued, at the end of the nineteenth century, "[Africa] was not a blank space any more. It had got filled since my boyhood with rivers and lakes and names. It had ceased to be a place of delightful mystery -a white patch for a boy to dream gloriously over" (Conrad, 1983: 71). As terrae incognitae disappeared from European maps, writers of adventure stories retreated from realistic to fantastic, purely imaginary spaces. Jules Verne wrote the first popular science fiction novels, removing adventure to settings under the sea and at the centre of the earth, for example, in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1870) and A Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1864) (Evans, 1965). Arthur Ransome set Swallows and Amazons (1930) in the British Lake District, not as it appeared on maps, but as it is reinvented by children, as a space in which to encounter Amazonian Indians. The adventures of Verne and Ransome, set in essentially unrealistic spaces, signalled the beginning of the end of the realistic adventure story, although realistic adventures continued to be written and read until well after the end of the second world war. I use the term "realistic" to refer to recognisably "real" settings, geographies that one might conceivably come across on one's travels, rather than just on the pages of story books. 6 I do not wish to suggest that cartography always proceeded in a linear, progressive fashion. Successive maps were not necessarily more accurate or truthful, although they were generally more crowded with detail. 5 Unlike Homer's classical adventurer, who wandered in space that "refused to be bound by latitude or longitude" (Keltie, 1907: 187), Defoe's "English Ulysses", as James Joyce called him (Seidel, 1991: 10), travelled in "real" rather than mythical space, in partly unknown and unmapped regions that, broadly speaking, were believed to exist. But Robinson Crusoe's island was not a particular "real" place. It was a sort of amalgam of "new world" geographies, inspired by the story of a castaway on one of the South Pacific Juan Fernandez 7 8 islands , but set off the coast of South America, in the Caribbean. Robinson Crusoe's geography was realistic, though, to the extent that it bore some relationship, albeit generic rather than specific, to "real" human geographies. Compared to mythical and fantastic spaces like the settings of Homer's Odyssey  and Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, the geography of Robinson Crusoe  bore a relatively direct relationship to "real" geography — this geographic "reality" being socially constructed, a conventional way of seeing, nothing more (or less). With elements of a recognisably "real" world, recombined in a different order and located somewhere off the edge of the map, on or around the margins of the known world, the geography of adventure corresponds to what theatre critic Victor Turner (1969, 1982) calls a liminal space. Turner's liminal space is metaphorically related to the spatially and temporally detached "zone unknown", described by anthropologist Arnold van Gennep (1909), in which tribal rites of passage (such as the passage from childhood to adulthood) take place. The liminal space is a marginal, ambiguous region in which elements of normal life are inverted, sometimes (but not always) subversively. Turner argues that liminal spaces tend to be ' The Juan Fernandez islands were renamed Isla Robinson Crusoe and Isla Alejandro Selkirk (180 km to the west) in 1964. ° Despite Defoe's geographical specificity, locating Robinson Crusoe's island near the mouth of the Orinoco River, "Robinson Crusoe is not usually seen as in any significant sense a^ Caribbean book.' It is...the story quite simply of a man on an island — the location of that island being of, at best, subsidiary importance" (Hulme, 1992: 176). 6 conservative in tribal societies, where they reinscribe the social order, and subversive in complex, industrial societies, where they disturb the social order. In industrial societies, argues Turner, liminal processes tend to be associated with leisure times and spaces. Landscapes of leisure, from the material landscapes of beaches and theme parks (see Shields, 1991; Warren, 1993) to the metaphorical landscapes of popular adventure (and other) literature — itself a product of industrialisation, with its mass-produced literature and its army of literate consumers — can all be interpreted as liminal (or liminoid^) zones, inversions and reorderings of recognisable human geography. " The spaces of adventure were potentially very influential, whether preserving the status quo or subverting it, partly because of the popularity of adventure stories. * In the middle of the twentieth century, one historian suggested that "it is doubtful whether half of one per cent [of British adults] could truthfully claim that they had never dipped in their youth" into popular adventure magazines (Turner, 1957: 9). For at least a century adventure magazines, ranging from "bloods"12 to "respectable" Christian publications such as The Boy's Own  Paper, had circulated among a large, virtually universal British readership. ^ As the metaphorical relationships with literally liminal processes (tribal rites of passage) become stretched, the term liminal is less accurate, and liminoid is preferable, argues Turner (1982). Liminoid spaces are often associated with leisure and leisure time, themselves products of industrialisation, with its spatial and temporal divisions between work and play, and its mass-consumption of leisure activities and products. *" Shields (1991) interprets a series of "places on the margin" (the literal definition of liminal spaces), including the Brighton pleasure beach in the nineteenth century as liminal zones. Warren (1993) interprets theme parks including Walt Disney World as liminal spaces that refer to the geographies of daily life. She argues that "what were once treated as separate, self-contained places within which one could escape from the rigours of daily life now are seen as not so much segregated sites but modes of representation that permeate virtually all landscapes and hence are inseparable from daily life" (Warren, 1993: 173). 1 1 Although liminal and liminoid spaces need not be popular; Turner (1982) argues that they can exist almost anywhere, including in both popular and high culture. 1 2 "Bloods" is a slang term for low-brow magazines with action and gratuitous violence. 7 Adventures, although often marketed as boys' stories, attracted readers of both sexes, and (almost) all ages and classes. Boys, it has been found, generally read more adventure stories than their female counterparts, but many of the other genres favoured by girls, notably school stories, contain elements of adventure, even though they are not defined as adventure stories (Jenkinson, 1946: 174; Lyons and Taksa, 1992). And the popularity of European adventures was not limited to Europe; they were popular around the world. Surveys show, for example, that Treasure Island was the most popular book among American boys in 1926, and also among New Zealand boys as late as 1947 (Lyons and Taksa, 1992). In 1974 the nineteenth-century French adventure-story writer, Jules Verne, and his twentieth-century British counterpart (in terms of popularity, at least), Enid Blyton, were the world's most translated authors, after Marx and Lenin (Ray, 1982). Blyton's worldwide sales exceeded 500 million books, including over 20 million of the Famous Five adventure series (Mullan, 1987). Only recently have British adventure story writers like Bessie Marchant and Robert Ballantyne, household names around much of the English-speaking world until after the second world war (see for example Jenkinson, 1946; Major, 1991), finally faded into obscurity (Harrison, 1980; Kingsford, 1947: 72). Popular adventure literature (in Europe), and popular literature in general, was a largely nineteenth- and twentieth-century phenomenon. Before the nineteenth century, relatively few people could afford to buy books and/or read, although adventure literature was popular by 13 As Jenkinson (1946: 179) commented in a study of girls' reading, "in a way almost all of the stories read by children [aged 12 to 15], boys and girls, are adventure stories. They consist of the narration of events, and through selection and emphasis these events take on a significance and an intensity which removes them from the confused ordinariness of daily life into the realm of adventure. School stories and detective stories are, clearly enough, adventures of particular kinds". " The examples of New Zealand and America are selected on the basis of availability of survey data. 1 5 Enid Blyton (1897-1968). 8 contemporary standards. Robinson Crusoe,  appealing to many people who were not particularly "literary", but who read mainly for pleasure, became one of the best-known books in early eighteenth-century Europe. Robinson  Crusoe,  it has been said, "not only created a new literary form; it created a new reading public" (Moore, 1958: 222). But Defoe did not, of course, create a new reading public single-handed. The growth of the reading public was a response to social and economic changes that enabled more Europeans to read and to afford books and magazines. In Britain in 1840, around two thirds of men and one half of women could read, and these proportions increased to over nine tenths of men and three quarters of women by the end of the century (Altick, 1957; Stone, 1969). By the outbreak of the First World War, illiteracy was virtually wiped out (Vincent, 1989). ' Throughout the nineteenth century, and into the twentieth, adventure books and magazines became more accessible to popular audiences, cheaper to buy, easier to read, more appealing to look at. This was partly a result of technical and industrial changes in the nineteenth century that made it possible to produce books that were brighter and more heavily illustrated, and to do so cheaply. In the period between 1860 and 1880, in particular, there was "a flowering of illustration" in British books and magazines, as reproduction techniques including colour lithography and colour printing from wood became more commercially 1 6 Defoe helped popularise adventure and travel literature in early-eighteenth-century Britain, in works such as Robinson Crusoe  and A New Voyage Round the World (1725) (Baker, 1931). The popularity of Robinson Crusoe  remained high throughout the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It was the favorite book among British school boys surveyed in 1884, despite the plethora of boys' adventure stories it had to compete with at that time (Salmon, 1888). *•' Vincent, using marriage registers as an indicator of literacy, concluded that 1839 illiteracy rates of 33 per cent for grooms and 49 per cent for brides were wiped out by 1914. In the registration districts sampled by Vincent, illiteracy was reduced to 1 per cent by 1914. The working classes made the greatest gains in this period since it was they that, initially, were less likely to be literate. "All the analysis of the marriage registers suggests that the single most important correlation was between literacy and occupation. More than any other factor, how the child's father earned a living determined its chances of learning to read and write) (Vincent, 1989: 3). 9 viable (Whalley and Chester, 1988: 75).18 Visually appealing, cheap and generally accessible, European popular literature reached very broad audiences in the nineteenth century. Its impact on European culture, and on European geographical imaginations, was huge. Conrad's image of a child gazing at a map and dreaming of adventure invokes late-Victorian associations between adventure and children's literature, and between children and innocence. Marlow's childhood dreams seemed innocent. But his innocently-white spaces of "delightful mystery" were later coloured by experience — they became the "dark spaces" of a brutal adult world. His seemingly personal dreams of adventure connected with social worlds and social politics, in particular the politics of European imperialism in Africa. More generally, adventures connect with a range of domestic and imperial politics, as they map, respectively, the home of the adventurer and the setting of the adventure. The terms "domestic" and "home" refer, in this instance, to the household — the most literal meaning of home — but also to the home country and/or locality. Adventure stories seem to say little about home, to focus instead on what Joseph Campbell calls the "zone unknown" of adventure. This fateful region of both treasure and danger may be variously represented: as a distant land, a forest, a kingdom underground, beneath the waves, or above the sky, a secret island, lofty mountaintop, or profound dream state; but it is always a place of strangely fluid and polymorphous beings, unimaginable torments, superhuman deeds, and impossible delight. (Campbell, 1968: 58) 1 8 The changing appearance of children's books, between the middle of the nineteenth century and the early part of the twentieth, is illustrated by the changing appearance of R.M. Ballantyne's The Young Fur Traders (illustrated in chapter three), from its initial publication in 1856 with illustrations by Ballantyne, through the Blackie edition of 1925, illustrated by M. MacKinlay. *9 On Victorian ideals of childhood innocence, see Bratton (1990) and Nelson (1991). 10 The two distant, disconnected spaces, divided by perilous and extraordinary voyages, seem to have little to do with each other. And yet they are defined in relation to each other. Unknown, distant spaces of adventure are vehicles for reflecting upon and (re)defining domestic, civilised places. Adventurers, away from society and social places, comment on and constitute their societies and their social places. Distance from home is an expression or metaphor of their difference at home, the characteristics that define them — whether permanently or just temporarily - as anti-social or as misfits of some kind or another. " During the adventure they may overcome that distance, their difference, making it possible for them to return. But they do not return to the place they left. While the adventure reconstitutes the adventurer, it also reconstitutes both the setting of the adventure and also the home of the adventurer. The textual space constructed by the adventure was one of the spaces opened up by European encounters with the non-European world, or rather by European narratives of encounter with the non-European world, which introduced a new dynamic into both places. The textual space opened up by the adventure story was to have profound implications for the non-European world — the material spaces that corresponded to settings — and also for the European social world — through the metaphorical spaces in which social dimensions of the adventurer's home were (and are) constituted and reconstituted. The relationship between the textual space of the adventure story and the material and metaphorical spaces of non-European geography and European society was, literally and/or metaphorically, one of *" The adventurer is a "darkly anti-social" figure, wandering outside society (Zweig, 1974). By "misfits" I refer to people marginalised in their own societies. Some of these, who embarked upon adventurous journeys, include the unmarried, middle-class women in Victorian Britain who became prolific, adventurous travellers and travel writers (Birkett, 1991; Blunt, 1994); the many homosexual, male adventurers, none more famous than "Lawrence of Arabia" (Dawson, 1991); the transsexuals, notably the twentieth-century travel writer, Jan Morris; the hermaphrodites (chapter six); the awkward adolescents, no longer children but not yet adults (chapter three); and all those without a niche or, literally, a place of their own in the country of their birth (chapter five). 11 mapping, remapping and unmapping. The space of the adventure story mapped and unmapped material spaces, British colonies for example, and metaphorical spaces, such as figurative terrain on which forms of gender were constituted. Most generally, mapping (like remapping) means charting, normalising and naturalising material and metaphorical spaces, while unmapping meant (and means) erasing, subverting and denaturalising those spaces. * Mapping Adventures Like other modern maps, realistic adventure stories such as Robinson Crusoe  naturalise the geographies they represent, and normalise the constructions of race, gender, class and empire those geographies inscribe. The realistic, plain language of Robinson Crusoe  seems to report the "truth" about adventurers and their settings. Robinson Crusoe  was written in plain English, not sentimental prose. As Virginia Woolf once commented, "there are no sunsets and no sunrises [in Robinson Crusoe];  there is no solitude and no soul. There is, on the contrary, staring us full in the face nothing but a large earthenware pot" (Woolf, 1932: 50-58). Robinson Crusoe is replete with realistic images of everyday objects (like earthenware pots) and realistic images of geography. Defoe warned, though, that his realism was superficial. In the preface to Robinson Crusoe  he stated that "The editor believes the thing to be a Just History of Fact; neither is there any Appearance of Fiction in it" (Defoe, 1993: vii).22 2 1 On mapping and unmapping see also Huggan (1994), and on mapping and remapping see Blunt and Rose (1994). 2 2 Defoe qualified his realism further in Serious Reflections (1720), the second sequel to Robinson Crusoe. 1 2 Superficially the geography of adventure is unambiguously realistic, an uncomplicated world of moral and physical certainty, although, I shall argue, closer inspection shows it to be riddled with ambivalence and fragility. Adventures, when they are told and retold many times according to conventional formulae, tend to reproduce rather than challenge received social constructs (including race, gender, class and empire), and they therefore tend to be conservative. Few stories, for example, have been more conservative, more naively realistic (and politically loaded), than Robinson Crusoe, as it was retold and imitated in nineteenth-century Britain. Nineteenth-century Robinsons and Robinsonades mapped Britain, on the one hand, and the British Empire, on the other, as I argue in chapter two. The realistic geography of the Robinsons and Robinsonades was an imaginary space in which constructions of Britain and Empire were naturalised. Robinson Crusoe's island was a middle-class, Christian, British man's Utopia. Robinson Crusoe  and other adventure stories mapped many aspects of Britain ("home") in relation to the island. They mapped a world view that placed Britain at the (imperial) centre and colonies like Crusoe's island at the margins. They mapped British constructions of race (roughly speaking, white Crusoe in relation to non-white "savages"), its class system (Crusoe as master, Friday as slave), its gender (Crusoe as masculine, nature as feminine), religion (Crusoe as Christian, "savages" as non-Christians) and language (Crusoe has spoken and written command of the English language, Friday is relatively mute). J These constructs are interrelated, and cannot really be separated. It is possible, though, to Zi Again, I qualify this reading of Robinson Crusoe  and other adventure stories below, showing how mapping was more ambiguous, less certain, than it first appears. At that point the simple world view of a white, middle-class, Christian becomes more textured and less stable. I also argue that the relationships between imaginary (textual) and "real" social constructs are more complex than the "mapping" metaphor suggests. Now, though, I explore the extent to which world views were mapped. 13 focus on individual aspects of the ways in which adventure stories mapped home (Britain) and setting (including British colonies), and this is what I do in chapters three, four and five. Refocussing upon particular processes of geographical and/or social mapping means turning from world-famous but geographically and/or socially generic narratives like Robinson Crusoe to works of more specific geographic and and/or social importance. Focussing upon specific, contextual processes of mapping means turning from the general to the particular, from the canonised to the relatively obscure, from stories that are often considered important in their own right to stories that are important and suggestive mainly as vignettes. The authors and stories that I have selected to read in detail, in chapters three to five, are important and representative in their geographic and social contexts. Robert Ballantyne (chapter three) and James Macdonald Oxley (chapter five) were prominent among adventure writers who set stories in western Canada in the Victorian and Edwardian period, while Ernest Favenc (chapter four) was among the best-known and most influential writers to set adventures in Australia, at around the same time. Bessie Marchant (chapter five) also set a number of stories in Canada, although she was important mainly as a pioneer of girls' adventure stories, about and for girls. I select stories set in Canada and Australia because those colonies, which started out as British settler societies, engaged popular audiences at a wide variety of levels, ranging from the purely imaginary to the more practical. Unlike stories set in the Brazilian rainforest, among African gorillas and in Antarctica, Canadian and Australian stories constructed settings that most readers could reasonably imagine going to, and that many readers did go to. British settlers also continued to read and write, produce and consume adventure stories set in Canada and Australia, after their arrival in those colonies. Canada and Australia should, then, provide opportunities to explore the fullest possible range of material and metaphorical mappings and unmappings. 14 In chapter three I focus on the mapping of British gender in the realistic spaces of adventure, specifically an adventure by R.M. Ballantyne, The Young Fur Traders (1856). Green generalises that "adventure books are and always have been masculinist" (Green, 1991: 3), and that adventures conservatively reproduce and confirm "masculinist" archetypes (Green, 1990). Adventures do speak about masculinity but, rather than reproducing an archetypal, singular masculinity, as the "masculinist" label implies, they construct different, historical masculinities and femininities. These historical masculinities and femininities are, in some cases, naturalised in the realistic spaces of adventure. Ballantyne was commended by parents, teachers and critics for educating his readers in geography (Salmon, 1888: 58), but his realistic geography was not a static or neutral classroom concept, it was a space in which he articulated a particular historical form of masculinity, a conservative/hegemonic ideology known as Christian manliness (see Vance, 1985). While The Young Fur Traders can be read in relation to (conservative) gender politics in Victorian Britain, it can also be read in relation to (conservative) imperial politics in Britain and British North America. Ballantyne's novel was set in a region governed by the London-based Hudson's Bay Company, and it helped describe that region to readers in Britain and around the world. Adventure stories like The Young Fur Traders imaginatively mapped imperial geographies, and they also inspired merchants, investors, travellers, settlers and others to go out and physically become "empire builders". In the following two chapters I show how adventure stories mapped particular imperial spaces, how writers and readers of adventure stories imaginatively and physically mapped and made particular imperial geographies. I place adventure stories in their Victorian (historical, geographical and political) contexts, but here the context is mainly colonial - Australia and western Canada -rather than British. In context, the adventure stories are interpreted as a part of the process of colonisation, of making imperial geographies. Ernest Favenc's exploration adventure stories 15 (chapter four) mapped an unknown and mysterious central Australian space in which colonists could imagine an Australian nation. The mysterious, central Australian landscape was colonised, not physically but imaginatively, as ideological territory. So long as it retained some of its mystery, and remained somewhat unmapped and unknown, central Australia remained a space in which anything seemed possible. Other adventure story writers also mapped colonial spaces, but rather than mapping unknown spaces with indeterminate, open-ended colonial futures, they mapped with immediate, specific colonisation projects in mind (chapter five). James Macdonald Oxley in Canada and Bessie Marchant in Britain used adventures to promote emigration to, and settlement in, Canada. Oxley ameliorated the settings of adventure stories in order to represent Canada as a destination for emigrants and settlers, although he did not actually write settlement novels, as Marchant did. Marchant's emigration and settlement novels mapped Canada as a destination for female emigrants, who would become settlers. Reading stories by Bessie Marchant, I show how adventures, particularly after the turn of the twentieth century, were not always dominated by male writers, heroes and readers. Bessie Marchant illustrates an ambivalence that is present, to greater or lesser extents, in all adventure stories. On the one hand, Marchant's girl heroes challenge male domination of adventure literature (heroes, readers), and challenge male domination of travel and emigration. On the other, Marchant's girls are conventional colonists, on the side of the British colonial establishment, planting British society in North America. On the one hand they are drawn to a space of adventure, on the other they challenge that space, attempt to subdue it and transform it. They are both rebellious emigrants and sedentary settlers. On the one hand, then, Marchant's adventure stories were conservative, mapping colonial geographies in conventional ways. But, on the other, they were radical departures, 16 unmapping rather than mapping. This critical dimension is present, to varying degrees, in all adventure stories. But it is easiest to see in clearly, explicitly, intentionally radical stories. Unmapping Adventures: Critical Perspectives Different critics, attempting to generalise about what adventure is or is not, have sometimes limited themselves to static conceptions of adventure, and have therefore lost sight of the dynamic, the propensity to change, that gives adventure its critical edge. Critics argue about whether or not stories such as Robinson Crusoe  and Gulliver's Travels, radical departures from the adventure literature of their time, are adventures at all. Paul Zweig reads Defoe's novel as "anti-adventure" written against the grain of adventure, and argues that Robinson Crusoe was not an adventurer at all. Robinson Crusoe "undermines the ethos of adventure", he argues, because he was essentially social and rational, preoccupied with civilised values, and because he existed in real space and time (Zweig, 1974: 113). Martin Green (1979: 5), in contrast, claims that "the adventure tale began to be written" when Robinson Crusoe  was published. Green's "general" definition of adventure is modelled on the new kind of adventurer and adventure story Defoe introduced. Robinson Crusoe was a new kind of adventurer — not an anti-social, passive, suffering, unchanging human being, as many adventurers had been in the past (Nerlich, 1987: 4), but an active questor. Robinson Crusoe was a new kind of adventure story, with a beginning and an ending, and an adventurer who changes through time. Green (1979: 23) argues that In general, adventure seems to mean a series of events, partly but not wholly accidental, in settings remote from the domestic and probably from the civilised (at least in the psychological sense of remote), which constitute a challenge to the central character. In meeting this challenge, he/she performs a series of exploits which make him/her a hero, eminent in virtues such as courage, fortitude, cunning, strength, leadership, and persistence. Green suggests that the Robinson Crusoe  story matches Northrop Frye's most general definition of adventure, which comprises three main stages, "the stage of the perilous journey 1 7 and the preliminary minor adventures; the crucial struggle, usually some kind of battle in which either the hero or his foe, or both, must die; and the exaltation of the hero" (Frye, 1990: 187). Thus one critic's general definition of adventure includes Robinson Crusoe  while another's excludes it. Both, in their insistence upon general definitions of adventure, deny the adventure story latitude, refuse to acknowledge its propensity to change, to abandon old conventions and invent new ones. The stories Zweig and Green label "anti-adventures" are, in many cases, critical adventures. Robinson Crusoe,  which Zweig refuses to call an adventure, was in many ways a radical story in its own time, if not in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, when Defoe's petit-bourgeois politics, his popular style, his dissenting spirit, his imperial ambition and his novelistic style had all become familiar to most British people, and when Robinson Crusoe  had been canonised by the literary establishments of Europe.24 Similarly, stories that Green refers to as "anti-adventures", such as William Golding's Lord of the Flies (1954) and Michel Tournier's Friday (1969), can be read as critical adventure stories. Golding and Tournier, writing in the post-war period, used the medium of adventure in much the same way Defoe and Swift used it in the early eighteenth century, as a narrative in which to challenge rather than confirm the social constructs (race, gender, class, imperial geography) that adventures have, in other cases, naturalised. They subvert the spaces of certain adventure stories by subverting the conventions of those stories, but they still write adventures. They use adventure stories to unmap what other adventure stories mapped. Unmappings subvert and denaturalise geographical and social worlds. Metaphorically, unmapping can mean denaturalising social constructs such as gender that are naturalised in the realistic spaces of adventure. More literally, unmapping can mean denaturalising the 2 4 The political messages in Gulliver's Travels (1726), likewise, were lost to many nineteenth- and twentieth-century readers (of the original and imitations), to whom Jonathan Swift's story was a lively adventure story, nothing more. 18 world view that rests upon it. I explore unmapping, like mapping, mainly with reference to selected stories, vignettes rather than world-famous or canonised texts (Golding's post-war tale being the exception, in this respect). Without wanting to imply that these stories just unmap while others just map — most stories do both, as I argue with reference to Marchant's ambivalent story — I pay particular attention to their critical strategies, the ways in which they unmap. Stepping outside the historical context of Britain and its Empire in the Victorian and Edwardian period, I use one of Defoe's most radical ancestors — Gabriel de Foigny — to explore unmapping as revolutionary social criticism, and I use some of Defoe's and Ballantyne's descendents to explore unmapping as anti-colonial and post-colonial criticism. Adventure stories, describing journeys to radically different spaces, to unknown but realistic worlds, have been used as a form of social critique, and as narratives in which to present Utopian visions. In general, the perilous journey represents a process of social (including personal) transformation, a process of departing from one social condition, before arriving at another. The ultimate destination, the setting of adventure, represents the Utopian or dystopian scenario. Unlike pure Utopias, static descriptions of Utopian worlds, adventure stories not only present Utopian scenarios, they also suggest how Utopias might be reached or achieved. In chapter six I show how seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French writers, beginning with Gabriel de Foigny, described perilous journeys to "unknown Australia" (terra Australis incognita). The perilous journey is an allegorical representation of the radical social upheaval France would have to go through before it could reach some vaguely Utopian state.25 z:> The perilous journey was toned down in later, less radical adventure/utopias like Robinson Crusoe, in which the Utopian vision was more specific and more realistic. 1 9 Adventures have mapped particular forms of masculinity (or manliness) and particular imperial geographies, but they are not intrinsically "masculinist" and/or "imperialist". " Girls' adventure stories, emphasising forms of womanliness, and adventure stories set in Britain rather than empire, make nonsense of such sweeping claims. '  Rather than necessarily confirming entrenched images of masculinity and imperial encounter, adventure stories can explore those images, and sometimes contest them. In chapter seven I show how some post-war writers, including William Golding, J.M. Coetzee and Michel Toumier, have re-entered the spaces of adventure, in order to contest and reinvent some of the masculinist, racist and imperialist constructions of earlier adventure stories, including Robinson Crusoe and some Robinsonades. Like adventure stories, their "anti-adventures", as Green (1990) refers to them, reflect upon and (re)define social constructs such as race, class and gender. And, like modern adventure stories, they are set in, and map, "real" rather than purely abstract or mythical time and space. Generally, they are not realistic, and they denaturalise rather than naturalise geographies, unmap rather than map. But they are still concerned with historical geographies of European imperialism(s), colonialism(s) and post-colonialism(s), with "real" geographies of empire. (Rereading Adventures: What Follows We should gloat over a book, be wrapt clear of ourselves, and rise from the perusal, our mind filled with the busiest, kaleidoscopic dance of images, incapable of sleep or of continuous thought. - Robert Louis Stevenson (Salmon, 1888: 105) 2" I put caution marks around the terms masculinist and imperialist because these terms seem to refer to universal ideas of masculinity and imperialism. Since masculinities and imperialisms are socially, historically constructed rather than universal, terms like masculinist and imperialist are not meaningful. ^ ' I do not wish to suggest, however, that girl heroes cannot be constructed as masculine, or that stories with British settings cannot be imperial in any way. 20 Robert Louis Stevenson argued that readers should allow themselves to become absorbed in the worlds of adventure, intoxicated by the brightly-coloured, almost-magical images of distant lands and seas. Similarly, Ballantyne's Ralph Rover warned readers of The Coral Island that they must "enter with kindly sympathy into the regions of fun", and advised "any boy or man who loves to be melancholy and morose" to "shut my book and put it away. It is not meant for him" (Ballantyne, 1858: xi). Stevenson and Ballantyne suggested, in effect, that to understand adventure one must allow oneself to be seduced by it, and deny oneself critical, intellectual distance. I do not wish to pour cold water onto Ralph's regions of fun, nor to be disrespectful of those who have willingly followed him there and fantasised about adventures of their own in "little-known" parts of the earth. Nor do I wish to deny that I, as a child and perhaps as an adult, have been entertained by adventure stories, and seduced by dreams of escaping to other worlds, and the possibility of finding adventures there. But, without completely detaching myself from this geographical fantasy, I stand back from it, just far enough to interpret adventure stories, to think about what they mean and how they function as popular, geographical narratives. In order to stay close to the stories themselves, I write in the present tense as much as possible, and pay particular attention to plot, since these are action stories, defined more by what happens than by anything else. I assume greatest analytical distance when interpreting settings, the spaces opened up by tales of adventure. I position this study within the broad intellectual context of historical and geographical studies devoted to describing and interpreting the series of encounters — real and imaginary — that took (and take) place between Europeans and the non-European world, and more specifically between Britons and the British Empire. Within this broad intellectual tradition, North American and Australian cultural and historical geographers from Carl Sauer to Andrew Clark and Cole Harris have searched for their cultural origins and found some of 2 1 them, distorted in various ways, in Europe. Their historical geographies explore the "transplantation" of European people, plants and animals to different parts of the non-European world. Others have explored the impacts of non-European landscapes on European cultural groups and, whether literally or metaphorically, on European minds and eyes, ways of seeing (for example, Harrison, 1977; Meinig, 1962; Rees, 1988; Smith, 1960). To an extent, my study of adventure stories is an extension of the cultural/historical geography tradition developed by Sauer and Clark, an extension that shifts attention from physical to textual cultural landscapes. In a very general way it is also a reinterpretation and critique of Sauerian ideas about the spread of cultures, a re-reading of Sauerian cultural history as a twentieth-century retelling of a mythic narrative, approximately the same mythic narrative that was once told by Daniel Defoe, in Robinson Crusoe.  My reading of adventure stories is also a reinterpretation of the idea of "ways of seeing", including landscape and other forms of geographic imagery, removing them from the fuzzy, sometimes-quaint domain of literary and perceptual geography (see Phillips, 1993), and exploring their significance in processes of colonialism, anti-colonialism and post-colonialism, as sites of colonisation and resistance. Whereas literary and perceptual geographers have explored essentially "unreal", metaphorical spaces, defined by their difference to "real", material spaces, I explore textual spaces without thinking of them as either real or unreal, however realistic they may sometimes appear. Neither the intangible space of humanistic geography, nor the solid space of positivistic geography, the geography of adventure is a cultural space, both culturally produced and productive of culture. A Geography of Adventure is a post-Sauerian or "new" cultural geography, within the broad parameters charted by Peter Jackson in Maps of Meaning (1992). Not confined to purely physical cultural landscape, nor to singular and/or static conceptions of culture, nor to tradition notions of mapping that privilege technical cartography and formal geographical narratives, this geography of adventure is one possible cultural geography of European encounters with the non-European world. 22 Through a series of vignettes — readings of selected popular adventure stories, broadly representative of their genres - I begin to explore the spaces of adventure, and the ways in which identities and geographies have been, and continue to be, mapped and unmapped within those spaces. 23 CHAPTER TWO MAPPING ADVENTURES: ROBINSON CRUSOE AND SOME VICTORIAN ROBINSONADES The realistic geography of Robinson Crusoe  (1719) is a space in which constructions of Britain and empire have been naturalised. Defoe's famous island story has been transformed and redefined since 1719, with many different editions, abridgements, imitations and readings of it. In nineteenth-century Britain, when its popularity peaked, Robinson Crusoe and most Robinsonades had become conventional and conservative, reasserting and confirming entrenched constructions of race, gender, empire, class and religion. In the nineteenth century Robinson Crusoe  took its place among the foundational myths of British culture. It held that place until after the Second World War, when one critic argued that, "almost universally known, almost universally thought of as at least half real, Robinson Crusoe cannot be refused the status of myth" (Watt, 1951: 98). It mapped Britain in terms of the setting, mainly the island, and it mapped the island in terms ~ including language and literary images ~ borrowed, selectively, from Britain. In this chapter I read an abridgement of Robinson Crusoe, typically undated, and broadly representative of the novel as most nineteenth-century British readers knew it. I also read two mid-nineteenth-century Robinsonades, The Coral Island (1858) by Robert Ballantyne and Canadian Crusoes; a Tale of the Rice Lake Plains (1852) by Catharine Parr Traill, focussing on the ways in which they mapped the British Victorian world and a specific British colony. 1 Robinson  Crusoe  was condensed, serialised and abridged almost immediately after its initial publication. Copyright owners were "unwilling or unable to discourage the abridgement" of a book that had, in effect, become "public property" (Rogers, 1979: 10). In the nineteenth century Robinson Crusoe  was reprinted most frequently, with an average of two editions per year. Rogers (1979: 14) notes that there has never been a "truly definitive edition". 24 Robinson Crusoe in Nineteenth-Century Britain The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,  of  York, Mariner  (1719) was published early in the eighteenth century (figure 2.1). It was the work of Daniel Defoe, a journalist who addressed contemporary political concerns from the perspective of a Whig activist, Dissenter, spy and merchant. Defoe's language and his images, in Robinson Crusoe, were also very contemporary. His narrative form was indebted to the eighteenth-century French tradition of imaginary or extraordinary voyages (Atkinson, 1966) , and more specifically to the few Robinsonades, island adventure/utopias such as Henry Neville's Isle of the Pines (1668), which were already in print. Defoe's central image, that of a castaway struggling to survive on a desert island, was borrowed from a narrative by Captain Woodes Rogers, published in 1709, describing the adventures of Alexander Selkirk, a castaway on the Juan Fernandez South Pacific islands (Baker, 1931: 264). 2 Defoe wrote around 560 books, pamphlets and journals, of which Robinson Crusoe was the 412th (Rogers, 1979). J Atkinson uses the terms imaginary and extraordinary interchangeably. The more technical term is "philosophic adventure novel in a realistic setting" (Gove, 1975). 4 The  Isle of Pines (1668), "is often viewed as the first Robinsonade prior to Defoe's work" (Moors, 1988: 9; see Rigney, 1991: ii). The existence of Robinsonades prior to 1719 underlines the point that Defoe's novel was a landmark but not an entirely original work, and that it had antecedents. The term Robinsonade is a retrospective, critical term, which authors like Neville and Defoe would not have used. The plot of The Isle of Pines is summarised in its subtitle, a late discovery of a fourth island near Terra Australis Incognita, by Henry Cornelius van Sloetten, wherein  is contained a true relation of certain English persons, who in Queen Elizabeth's time, making a voyage to the East Indies, were cast away, and wrecked near the coast of Terra Australis Incognita, and  all drowned, except  one man and four women.  And how lately Anno Dom. 1667 a Dutch ship .... by  chance have found their posterity, speaking good English, to  amount, as  they suppose, to  ten or twelve thousand persons. * Woodes Rogers commanded The Duke. The story of Alexander Selkirk was also recorded by Edward Cook, second captain of The Duchess, by an anonymous pamphleteer, and by Sir Richard Steele (Baker, 1931). 25 Figure 2.1 Frontispiece and title page of Robinson Crusoe  (fourth edition, 7 August, 1719). Despite the hundreds of editions, abridgements and imitations Defoe's story has been subjected to, the original frontispiece has survived as the most famous image of Robinson Crusoe. Storm images, in European journeys to the new world, can be traced at least as far back as Shakespeare's "American" play, The Tempest. Shakespeare's storm is thought to have been inspired by the account of a contemporary traveller, William Strachey, who wrote that his vessel was caught in "a dreadfull storme and hideous ... which swelling, and roaring as it were by fits, ... at length did beate all light from heaven; which like an hell of darkenesse turned blacke upon us...." whereupon the boat was beached in the pastoral Utopia of Bermuda (Marx, 1964: 40). Leo Marx (1964: 72) suggests that "The  Tempest  may be read as a prologue to American literature". See also Gillies (1994) on Shakespeare's geographies. 2 6 Figure 2.2 Map showing the voyages of Robinson Crusoe through realistic geography, as charted by contemporary British map makers. Fourth edition of Robinson Crusoe  (7 August, 1719), in which the map first appeared. Despite this precise mapping of Crusoe's journey and island, Defoe's geography has generally been interpreted at a more generic level. The island, in particular, is generally read as a colonial, new world place, not specifically Caribbean (Hulme, 1992). A M A P of die W O R LD,onV. t is Delineated the"Voyages 27 Defoe's geographical and anthropological images were also adapted from early eighteenth-century literature. Robinson Crusoe's voyages took place in the sometimes-hazy territory charted by contemporary cartographers, and Defoe even mapped the adventurer's imaginary voyage through realistic geography on a world map (figure 2.2). Defoe read widely, from newspapers to atlases to travel narratives, such as those of William Dampier, although he "used geography for his own ends, and took nearly as much liberty with it as he did with other matters when the necessities of the story so demanded" (Baker, 1931: 257). Defoe's story, early eighteenth-century in both its politics and its images, made an immediate impression on contemporary readers and critics, enjoying great success among a readership of unprecedented breadth, but it was not until the nineteenth century that Robinson Crusoe achieved its greatest popularity and influence. Robinson Crusoe's  popularity in the early eighteenth century was confined to the small book-buying and book-reading public, comprised largely of the urban middle class (Watt, 1957). Not until the nineteenth century was "popular literature" truly popular across most of the geographical and social spectrum. While 41 editions of Robinson Crusoe  were published in Britain within forty years of its publication, the total had risen to at least 200 by the end of 0 Defoe's geographical knowledge came from "wide reading, from diligent study of newspapers, and from contact with a great variety of men" (Baker, 1931: 258). Defoe took liberties with received anthropological "facts". His cannibals were based on the Caribs, after whom the Caribbean Sea is named. But the Caribs did not engage in cannibalism merely for sustenance, and they did not eat just anyone they could kill. Their cannibalism was ceremonial, religious and selective. 7 John Robert Moore writes, "Before Robinson Crusoe  there was no English novel worth the name, and no book (except the Bible) widely accepted among all classes of English and Scottish readers.... Robinson Crusoe not only created a new literary form; it created a new reading public" (Moore, 1958: 222). It has often been said that Defoe's work was universally popular, among old and young, rich and poor. However, the book-buying and reading public was still a small fraction of British society. The reading public was growing, but the growth was largely restricted to the middle classes, particularly the urban middle classes (Watt, 1957). Defoe's readership was popular indeed, but only by contemporary standards. 28 the nineteenth century (Shinagel, 1975; Green, 1979; Watt, 1957). Robinson Crusoe,  a survival story, was canonised as the archetypal modern adventure story, and as a foundational myth of modern, enlightened, imperial Europe. In the eighteenth century, Jean Jacques Rousseau became one of the first to endorse Defoe's story, which he saw as "a complete treatise on natural education" that would "serve as our guide during our progress to our state of reason" (Rousseau, 1762, cited by Shinagel, 1975: 283). Many famous (and not-so-famous) writers and literary critics — including Karl Marx, John Ballantyne (Robert's uncle), Samuel Taylor Coleridge, James Joyce, Virginia Woolf - followed Rousseau, reading new meanings into Robinson Crusoe  and helping to canonise it as a "great" literary work, perhaps as a myth. Robinson Crusoe  was, in its politics and in its style, a departure from the early eighteenth-century mainstream, a radically different kind of story. Defoe, an accomplished writer and geographer*, was never adopted by the contemporary literary and geographical fraternities, neither of which knew what to make of his realistic fiction or his plain, popular style (Rogers, 1979; Seidel, 1991). Defoe's use of geography, in particular, was new and disturbing to many contemporary readers. Defoe's geography was informed by, and written in the language of, contemporary geographies (including travel and exploration narratives), but it was livelier than most, and it was fiction rather than "fact". Defoe was a story teller rather than a chronicler, and he was a travel writer rather than a traveller, as he hinted in the introduction to A New Voyage Round the World. "A seaman when he comes to the Press," he reflected, "is pretty much out of his element, and a very good Sailor may make but an 8 Defoe was a (non-academic) geographer in the three-fold sense that he was familiar with contemporary geographical literature, was a seasoned traveller, and was a writer of geographical narratives and descriptions. He "took immense pride in his knowledge of geography; his library was well stocked with atlases and works on discovery and navigation; he was forever surrounded by maps and charts" (Rogers, 1979: 25). 29 indifferent Author" (Defoe, 1725: 1). Contemporary critics such as Charles Gildon accused Defoe of deception, arguing that Defoe's fiction, in Robinson Crusoe  and in some of his other travel narratives, was sometimes mistaken for "fact" (Gove, 1941: 122). Nineteenth-and twentieth-century geographers, concerned with the distinction between fact and fiction, have often repeated the charge. * In 1907, for example, the secretary of the Royal Geographical Society commented that "in the history of exploration there are, I fear, too many instances of v exaggerating what never took place' ... Of stories of travel which are actually meant to deceive, which are pure fiction from beginning to end, passed off as fact, happily there are not many examples" (Keltie, 1907: 186-194). Another geographer, reading Defoe in the twentieth century, reminded the reader that Defoe "was a journalist, a writer of political pamphlets, and of stories for human entertainment, and that he did not set out to teach his readers geography" (Baker, 1931: 257). Although many geographers continued to struggle with the idea of realistic (geographical) fiction, other late eighteenth- and nineteenth-century readers and critics came to terms with the idea of truth in fiction. Theorising the novel, critics decided that Defoe's "circumstantial realism" was not deceitful, as many have previously supposed. Since readers were no longer so preoccupied with the distinction between fiction and "fact", no longer so disturbed by idea of realistic fiction, realistic images were no longer discredited by the label "fiction", and it was possible for Defoe's realistic geographical images to be naturalised, accepted as "real". y Defoe never travelled outside Europe, although by contemporary standards he was a seasoned mercantile sea traveller. Admitting to being an author rather than a traveller, he was following an eighteenth-century convention of (tongue-in-cheek?) authorial humility, but he was also being honest, as he did generally write without travelling. 1" Charles Gildon accused Defoe of dishonesty (the mere appearance of reality) and banality (his ordinary characters), and they condemned his plain style as popular and juvenile. Other historians and geographers, more recently, have dispensed with the categories of fact and fiction. 3 0 In many ways Robinson Crusoe  was unfamiliar and disturbing to early eighteenth-century readers, but familiar and normal to their nineteenth-century counterparts. Defoe's eighteenth-century innovations became nineteenth-century conventions. Robinson Crusoe  helped invent the "British novel". Its industrious, Christian hero displayed what was later termed the "Protestant work ethic" (Watt, 1957). It "prophesied" (as James Joyce put it) rather than chronicled British imperialism, giving some attention to relatively archaic forms of imperial adventure (slavery, mercantile and plantation capitalism), but emphasising more progressive forms of colonialism (the kind envisioned by Thomas Jefferson but effectively realised by the American Homestead Act, 1863, and its subsequent Canadian and Australian counterparts). Crusoe's conversion from risk-loving mercantile capitalist to practical, sedentary farmer signalled the transition of adventure from a bourgeois to a petit bourgeois ideology, and helped redefine adventure from the ideology of mercantile capitalists to "the ideology of the middle class" (Nerlich, 1987: 263). Robinson  Crusoe  seemed a very conventional, conservative narrative to many readers, partly because it was so widely copied that it had effectively established new conventions. In addition to the 200 editions and 110 translations of Robinson Crusoe  that appeared in print before 1900, there were at least 115 revisions and 277 European imitations (Robinsonades). Robinsons appeared in every conceivable form, ranging from Robinson Crusoe in Words of One Syllable (Godolphin, 1868), a nineteenth-century story with simple language and colour illustrations, aimed at very young children (figure 2.3), to a Robinsonade entitled Yr  Ynys Unyg:  or, The Lonely Island (1852), reissued as Welsh Family Crusoes  (1857) (Green, 1990).14 1^ Moore (1958), for example, called Robinson Crusoe  "the first British novel". *3 Marxist critic Michael Nerlich (1987: 263) argues that adventure was variously a "courtly-knightly" ideology (twelfth-century France) and a mercantile ideology (fifteenth century England), before Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe, and made adventure "the ideology of the middle class". The "British" literature of adventure is mostly Scottish and English, published in the English language. This Welsh adventure story is a novel exception. 3 1 With the publication of many pirated, edited, abridged, imitated and otherwise modified Robinson Crusoes,  there is no definitive version of the story once told by Defoe (Rogers, 1979: 14; Watt, 1951). Since shortly after Robinson  Crusoe  was first published, relatively few readers have encountered Defoe's complete original work, and fewer still have seen the two sequels he wrote (The  Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,  1719, and Serious Reflections During the  Life and  Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe,  1720). Partly because Robinson Crusoe  (along with adventure stories in general) has been redefined and marketed as juvenile or boys'15 fiction, particularly since the middle of the nineteenth century, Defoe's novel has been shortened and simplified, generally replaced by abridgements (Rogers, 1979). It is the average one or two hundred page abridgement that best represents the Robinson Crusoe story, as most people have known it (Seidel, 1991). Robinson Crusoe  is reduced to a short, simple story in which a man is shipwrecked on an island, where he learns to survive and then to prosper, where he overcomes fear, where he becomes a Christian, and where he saves and converts to Christianity a cannibal he calls Friday. Eventually, after twenty eight years on the island, Crusoe is rescued by a passing ship. 15 Robinson Crusoe was not originally conceived as juvenile literature, but it was increasingly regarded as such, specifically as boys' literature, in the nineteenth century. This association between adventure fiction and juvenile literature was partly thanks to Rousseau, who recommended Robinson Crusoe  to children and said it was the most important (if necessary, the only) book they should read (in Emile). Leslie Stephen, in The Cornhill Magazine, 1868, argues that due to "the want of power in describing emotion as compared with the amazing power in describing facts, Robinson Crusoe is a book for boys rather than men, and as Charles Lamb says, for the kitchen rather than for higher circles" (cited by Rogers, 1979: 145). 32 Figure 2.3 Robinson  Crusoe in Words of One Syllable (Godolphin, 1868): a nineteenth-century Robinson, abridged, simplified and illustrated for children. In words of one syllable, very little of Defoe's original text survives. This is a creative retelling of Defoe's narrative rather than a straightforward reissue. ROBINSON CRUSOE IN WORDS OF O N E SYLLABLE. M A It Y G O D O L I1 H I X. WITH COLOURE D ILLUSTRATIONS . LONDON: Glv'iRGn ROUTLEDG E AN D SON'S , THE RKOADWAY , LUt,OAT[ L ^EH- YOR K -:iii,  BROOM E STRBBT . |S>58. 33 The Geography of Robinson Cruso e Little is said about Robinson Crusoe's home, but everything that happens to Crusoe, everything he does and everywhere he goes, is a comment on his home country, as it is and as it might be. Crusoe leaves his family home in York1", against his father's wishes. Like all adventurers, he travels "beyond the veil of the known into the unknown" Campbell, 1968: 82). The unknown space is defined in relation to the known, the unmapped in relation to the mapped. The journey begins in domestic, civilised, mapped space. But since the setting of his adventure is unmapped, it is not possible to map a course that will lead there. Crusoe must simply head for the edges of his known world and abandon himself to chance. Robinson Crusoe's first adventure begins almost the moment he leaves Britain, as "the wind began to blow, and the waves to rise in a most frightful manner", the beginning of "a terrible storm indeed" (Defoe, undated: 3). It is not until later, on another sea voyage, that Defoe's adventurer encounters the storm that blows his ship "out of the way of all human commerce" and onto a sand bank near an unknown land in the South Atlantic (somewhere near the Spanish dominions — in the vicinity of the Orinoco ~ he thinks) (Defoe, undated: 23). Robinson Crusoe, along with other passengers of the stricken vessel, is attempting to row ashore when "a raging wave, mountain-like, came rolling astern of us, and plainly bade us to expect the coup de grace." The wave plucks the passengers from their boat, scattering them, and depositing Crusoe — who is almost completely passive against the forces of Nature — on an unknown shore. Nothing can describe the confusion of thought which I felt when I sunk into the water; for though I swam very well, yet I could not deliver myself from the waves so as to draw breath, till that a wave, having driven me or rather carried me a vast way on towards the shore, and having spent itself, went " Later, particularly in the Victorian period, the English West Country became increasingly important as the point of departure, the home of many seafaring adventurers, in British Robinsonades (Green, 1990). 34 back, and left me upon the land almost dry, but half-dead with the water I took in. (Defoe, undated: 25) The disorienting, life-threatening passage defines the island as a space that is fundamentally disconnected from the world Defoe has known before, a space that is not on his map. The adventurer surfaces in the setting of his (principal) adventure, in space which is at first blank, unknown. "Where I was I yet knew not, whether on the continent or on an island, whether inhabited or not inhabited, whether in danger of wild beasts or not" (Defoe, undated: 33). Washed up on an unknown shore, Crusoe immediately pulls himself together, and begins to explore where he is and, at the same time, who he is, what he can be. Almost immediately, "I began to look round me to see what kind of place I was in" (Defoe, undated: 27). While Crusoe set about reinventing himself and his island, he did not start completely from scratch. He was not washed up naked, and he clung to his cold, wet clothes, the trappings of his civilisation. Of "good family", the middle class castaway also found himself with a shipwreck full of useful capital (tools, provisions and other useful things) and an island to himself. He was still a man, rather than just a human being. And he also had a Bible, which he read and learned to understand and value. Robinson Crusoe took these elements of Britain, of his British social self, and transplanted them to the island, where he amplified them, in himself and in his engagements with the island. Ironically, perhaps, Crusoe's social development was helped rather than hindered by his isolation. In the seemingly uncomplicated, simplified geography and economy of the island, Crusoe's Christian, petit bourgeois social vision looked more convincing than it would have done in a more textured setting, with other people, commodity markets and land lords, for example. Thus Defoe naturalised his social ideal through the image of a man removed from society. Mapping Crusoe Robinson Crusoe devotes a single, brief sentence to introducing himself — "I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family" (Defoe, undated: 3). Following another sentence of introduction, in which adventurous relatives are mentioned, he gets straight on 35 with his story. The brevity of this introduction is partly the product of a (sometimes) spare, eighteenth-century writing style, mediated by close editing and ruthless abridgement , but is also characteristic of the adventure narrative form more generally. Since the adventurer is defined primarily by his actions, it is not possible to introduce him in much detail before the action part of his story really begins (Zweig, 1974). Like all quest adventurers, Crusoe's "perilous journey" leads to "crucial struggle" and finally to "the exaltation of the hero" t o (Frye, 1990: 186-188; Green, 1979). Unlike the ageless classical adventurers, who endured and struggled endlessly, Crusoe aged and reinvented himself on the island. Crusoe's identity as a white, middle-class, Christian, British man was affirmed and defined, and the island and its native inhabitants were all vehicles of this process, a process of mapping Crusoe. I illustrate this point with reference to the adventurer's spiritual transformation. Crusoe's act of rebellion against his father, which he calls his "original sin" (Defoe, undated: 3), defines the young adventurer as a sinner, one who has rebelled against God (Pearlman, 1976). He sets out, a "loose and unguided young fellow" (Defoe, undated: 6). What he does, first in his "wicked" years of adventurous wanderings, and then in the twenty eight years of mostly solitary island life, defines who he is, and what he becomes. Crusoe's survival, after the storm and shipwreck, symbolise his forgiveness and Christian rebirth. Seeing the stranded vessel "so far off shore", the morning after he is stranded, Crusoe asks, "Lord, how was it 1 Compare this version with the original. "I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family. I had two elder brothers..." (Defoe, undated: 3). "I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving off his trade, lived afterward at York, from whence he had married my mother, whose relations were named Robinson, a very good family in that country, and from whom I was called Robinson Kreutznaer; but by the usual corruption of words in England we are now called, nay, we call ourselves, and write our name, Crusoe, and so my companions always called me. I had two elder brothers..." (Defoe, 1993: 1). ° These, argues Martin Green, "are recognizably the three main stages of Robinson Crusoe (Green, 1979: 82). The hero is defined and transformed by his adventures. 36 possible I could get on shore?" (Defoe, undated: 27). In his journal entry for September 30, 1659, "I, poor, miserable Robinson Crusoe, being shipwrecked during a dreadful storm in the offing, came on shore on this dismal unfortunate island, which I called the Island of Despair, all the rest of the ship's company being drowned, and myself being dead" (Defoe, undated: 49). This, the adventurer's twenty-sixth birthday, is also the moment of his symbolic rebirth, so that following twenty six years of a "wicked life," his "solitary life" begins (Defoe, undated: 103). Crusoe's life on the island, initially a solitary life, leads him to Christian knowledge. After opening the Bible, the first words that meet his eye are these: "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me" (Defoe, undated: 71). Alone, on the island, Crusoe kneels down and prays his first prayer: "I did what I had never done in all my life; I kneeled down and prayed to God to fulfil the promise to me, that if I called upon Him in the day of trouble, He would deliver me" (Defoe, undated: 71). Crusoe's "troubles" include adventures on and around the island. Some of his first adventures take place as he explores the island. For example, while exploring its circumference in a sailing boat he made himself, Crusoe sails into a current that "carried my boat along with it with such violence," sweeping him out to sea. "And now I began to give myself over for lost" in the ocean where "I had no prospect before me but of perishing" (Defoe, undated: 109). Eventually he manages to return to the island, where, "When I was on shore, I fell on my knees and gave God thanks for my deliverance" (Defoe, undated: 111). Thus the island and the surrounding waters are vehicles of Crusoe's spiritual transformation. So are the native inhabitants, cannibals, who visit the island years after Crusoe's arrival. Crusoe rescues a "poor wretch" who is about to be eaten by the "naked savages" (Defoe, undated: 151). He later converts the man, whom he calls Friday, to Christianity, and teaches him to wear clothes and to eat goat rather than human flesh. Friday's conversion is a measure of Crusoe's Christian zeal and spiritual maturity. The other cannibals are also affected by Crusoe's religious fervour. After resolving not to judge their 37 seemingly "savage" practices, Crusoe decides to save a "poor Christian" who is about to become their next meal. Aiming his musket, and having Friday do the same, he cries "Let fly...in the name of God!" (Defoe, undated: 170), killing and scattering the cannibals. The cannibals, like Friday and the island, are seen from Crusoe's perspective, as vehicles of his own spiritual growth, people and places encountered on his spiritual journey. Mapping the Island Crusoe's island and its native inhabitants were vehicles for the adventurer's personal growth, for his spiritual, moral and social reflections, but they also represented, mapped, imaginatively colonised real places and peoples, real colomal geographies. Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe  with a particular colonial project in mind - British colonisation in Spanish America ~ which is why he located the island near the mouth of the Orinoco River. The British did not colonise Spanish America, as Defoe wanted them to, but Robinson Crusoe  did influence the course of British colonialism, in a more general way. Robinson Crusoe  was a myth of British imperialism, a myth that brought the idea of imperial adventure within the British petit bourgeois value system. Suddenly cut off from his past and thrust into a terrifying new existence, the shipwrecked Crusoe presents an image of colonial experience. He is thrown into a new world, or rather a space in which to invent a new world. In the uncomplicated — unknown and initially unpopulated — island, he is cast ashore with a little capital, the contents of the wrecked ship, and given the opportunity to make a new world, a place in which to live. He begins by exploring, imaginatively mapping the island, filling its blank spaces with names. When i y George Landow, in a study of the literary iconography of crisis, Images of Crisis (1982), interprets storms in modern literature as images of broken traditions, lost orientations, modern experience, colonial experience. In a bewildering world of change and flux, people are swept along by strong forces, which may be labelled God or something else, and thrown into new worlds, or spaces in which to invent new worlds. 38 Crusoe saves a native islander, he also names him (Friday), imaginatively colonising him, too. To Crusoe, names bring the island and its native inhabitant into existence, simultaneously colonising them, and sketching "the shadowy outline of a place". * The island and Friday become terms in Crusoe's world view, settings and characters in a colonial encounter, defined from the perspective of the colonist (Brydon and Tiffin, 1993). Crusoe also physically colonises the island, building a shelter for himself, building an enclosure for goats, clearing and farming land. Crusoe, a practical colonist, is able to say, "I found at last that I wanted nothing but I could have made it" (Defoe, undated: 47). Thus Robinson Crusoe makes a place in which to live. Crusoe's adventure, like that of all colonists, is pervaded by a tension between a wandering inclination (which leads to new lands) and a settled condition (in which the adventurous spirit is abandoned and settlement ensues). Crusoe changes from an enthusiastic to a reluctant adventurer, from a wanderer to a settler. Transformed principally by his Christian conversion, he renounces his restless, rebellious ways and rediscovers the domestic virtues (Joyce, 1964; Zweig, 1974). Ultimately he fashions a world in which adventure is no longer necessary. His island adventure lasts only as long as it takes him to transform the unknown, to possess it as a known, domesticated, enclosed home-like space. Nature, in all its forms, is domesticated. At first Crusoe tames one corner of the island, making a secure place for himself, where he finds refuge from the wilderness and possible dangers without. Gradually 2" The story of Crusoe's spiritual rebirth, emerging from the dark waters into an unnamed land, a garden of Eden where he is the sole, Adam-like occupant, is reminiscent of the Biblical creation story. In Genesis land creatures including Adam and Eve were created on the sixth day, once the natural environment was in place (night and day; sky; land and vegetation; sun, moon and stars; sea creature and birds). In other words, Adam appeared on Saturday while nature appeared on Friday. This, perhaps, is one of the ways in which Crusoe's slave, Friday, is identified with nature. Similarly, Paul Carter (1987:17) reads Captain Cook's Australian place names as traces of his encounters in the region, arguing that "it was the shadowy outline of a place that Cook's [names] brought into being". 39 adventure becomes superfluous, as the island is known, the possible dangers unmasked (the foot print, for example) and the "savages" killed or converted. Except for the adventures that arise in the course of his practical Christian colonisation, Robinson Crusoe's life is a quiet one, centred around his residence. After an exploring expedition, he reflects: I cannot express what a satisfaction it was to me to come into my old hutch and lie down in my hammock-bed. This little wandering journey, without settled place of abode, had been so unpleasant to me, that my own house, as I called it to myself, was a perfect settlement to me compared to that; and it rendered everything to me so comfortable that I resolved I would never go a great way from it again while it should be my lot to stay on the island. (Defoe, undated: 87) The contradiction of Robinson Crusoe, "the unadventurous hero" (Zweig, 1974), was mirrored in British colonies, where colonialism was associated with adventure, perhaps inspired by adventure, but was also at odds with adventure, since settled colonialism was about transforming the unknown into the known, erasing and transforming the spaces of adventure. By the end of Robinson Crusoe,  adventure had run its course. When, after twenty eight years, Crusoe finally leaves the island (on a British merchant ship he has helped save from mutineers), he leaves behind him an idealised British colony, which he hands over to the group of mutineers, whose merciful punishment it is to be left there. I gave them the whole history of the place and of my coming to it; showed them my fortifications, the way I made my bread, planted my corn, cured my grapes.... I left them my firearms, namely, five muskets, three fowling-pieces, and three swords.... I gave them a description of the way I managed the goats and directions to milk and fatten them, and to make both butter and cheese. (Defoe, undated: 191) Crusoe concludes, "I gave them every part of my own story," the story of how he colonised an island (Defoe, undated: 191). He intended the story to guide the new colonists, inspiring their practical acts and imaginatively framing their colonial encounters. Crusoe gave his story not only to the mutineers, but also to British readers. Some readers were surely inspired to go off to sea, to seek adventure in distant lands, perhaps to settle in Canada or Australia, and ultimately help to build an empire. "To many [readers, Robinson Crusoe]  has given the 40 decided turn of their lives, by sending them to sea", wrote one Scottish observer in 1834 (Ballantyne, 1834: 281). In the middle of the nineteenth century, another British observer called Robinson Crusoe  "a book, moreover, to which, from the hardy deeds which it narrates, and the spirit of strange and romantic enterprise which it tends to awaken, England owes many of her astonishing discoveries both by sea and land, and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory" (Borrow, 1851: 39). But while Robinson Crusoe  inspired many imperial acts, its influence was not limited to the minority of Britons who were directly engaged in imperial acts. To the majority of Britons who stayed at home, Robinson Crusoe  was a powerful geographical fantasy but also a colonial myth, a myth that represented British colonialism to the British people, as well as to the colonised peoples (Brydon and Tiffin, 1993). Robinson Crusoe was not always a colonist; earlier in life he was a merchant adventurer and 11 a plantation capitalist, and he was shipwrecked while on a slave-trading mission. * But Defoe relegated the adventurer's days as a trader, an investor and a slave trader to his "wicked" life (Defoe, undated: 103), and only endorsed the virtues of his later life, as a colonist. ^ And most abridgements of Robinson Crusoe,  focussing on the island adventure, give little mention to Crusoe's imperial career, prior to his arrival on the island. Robinson Crusoe, particularly in abridged form, is not a myth of all imperialisms, but more specifically of practical petit bourgeois colonialism (Nerlich, 1987). In the words of James Joyce, whose view of the British coloniser reflected his own perspective as an Irishman living under British colonial rule, lL Crusoe, at the time of his final shipwreck, is sailing to Africa for a cargo of negro slaves to work on his Brazilian sugar plantation •* Defoe criticised the brutality of some slave traders and he condemned the more plunderous forms of imperialism, although he was not anti-slavery or anti-imperial per se (Rogers, 1979: 43; Seidel, 1991: 41). 41 The true symbol of the British [imperial] conquest is Robinson Crusoe, who, cast away on a desert island, in his pocket a knife and a pipe, becomes an architect, a carpenter, a knife grinder, an astronomer, a baker, a shipwright, a potter, a saddler, a farmer, a tailor, an umbrella-maker, and a clergyman. He is the true prototype of the British colonist, as Friday (the trusty savage who arrives on an unlucky day) is the symbol of the subject races. The whole Anglo-Saxon spirit is in Crusoe: the manly independence; the unconscious cruelty; the persistence; the slow yet efficient intelligence; the sexual apathy; the practical, well-balanced religiousness; the calculating taciturnity. (Joyce, 1964:25) In the early eighteenth century Robinson Crusoe  was, as James Joyce (1964: 25) put it, a "prophecy of empire", but in the nineteenth century it became a myth of empire. Crusoe's island was a Christian Utopia, a middle-class Utopia, a colonial Utopia. The island and the adventurer represented Britain and British colonialism in the best possible light, conservatively legitimating, powerfully mapping. To the reader in nineteenth-century Britain, Crusoe's island became a reflection of Britain and the British empire, not as they had been when Defoe wrote, but as they had become by the nineteenth century. Canadian Crusoes: Mapping a British Colony Robinson Crusoe,  a specific colonial argument in the eighteenth century, had become a general myth of British colonial encounter by the nineteenth. But some Robinsonades were more specific, historically and geographically, and were designed to represent and promote specific colonisation projects. Traill's Canadian Crusoes  (1852), for example, is a Canadian Robinsonade, set in the Rice Lake Plains of Ontario. It was intended to promote British emigration and settlement there. Traill was a British settler in Canada, an accomplished field naturalist and writer, who was also a sister of Susanna Moodie, the well-known author of settlement narratives such as Roughing it  in the Bush (1854). Canadian Crusoes  is "generally considered to be first Canadian novel for children" (Egoff, 1992: catalogue entry #094). Canadian Crusoes  follows Robinson Crusoe  closely, as its title suggests it will. In the preface Agnes Strickland (Traill's sister) draws an explicit parallel between Robinson Crusoe  and 42 Canadian Crusoes.  "Where," she asks, "is the man, woman or child who has not sympathised with the poor seaman before the mast, Alexander Selkirk, typified by the genius of Defoe as his inimitable Crusoe, whose name (although one by no means uncommon in middle life in the east of England,) has become synonymous for all who build and plant in the wilderness, cut off from humanity's reach?" (Traill, 1986: 1). In Canadian Crusoes,  as in Robinson Crusoe,  an initial moment of disorientation plunges the adventurer(s) into terra incognita, where they learn to survive, make a place to live, learn to trust God and convert a cannibal to Christianity, before finally returning home. Traill's Robinsonade is adapted to her inland setting. Whereas seafaring crusoes, particularly in the eighteenth century, could plausibly be swept by storms onto unknown but real islands, inland crusoes in the nineteenth century could simply get lost and find themselves in unknown, island-like spaces. Whereas British writers from Shakespeare and Defoe used realistic images of storms and shipwrecks, borrowed from contemporary (and earlier) travel narratives, Traill was inspired by stories — printed in the local paper — of children lost in the wilderness (Schieder, 1986: xvii, 233). As Strickland explained, "scarcely a summer passes over the colonists in Canada, without losses of children from the families of settlers Z 4 The archives of nineteenth-century Canada are replete with stories of lost settlers. For example, the Regina Leader (4 August 1898 p.5 column 4) reported, "Lost on the Prairie - Mrs David Mackenzie of Little Hay Lakes near Wetaskiwin, Alta., an old lady nearly 70 years of age, got lost while hunting for some cattle... She wandered around for 5 days without a thing to eat...". Saskatoon Temperance Colonist, Bessie Trounce, describes the frightening experience of temporarily losing her son, who: "... was out getting wood one day last week when it came up to snow & he foolishly got out of his way & roamed about all night & was nearly frozen, he let the oxen go home & tried to follow them, but was so tired, the snow is a foot deep & in some places much deeper so it is very trying walking in it, he managed to get to a farmer's ... & knocked at the door (it was 7 [or 1?] O'Clock in the morning) when they opened it he fell in on the floor nearly useless, they warmed him and put him to bed, & he was [new?] yesterday all well again, Harry scolded him for losing his way & not leaving for home when the snow storm came on, he ought not to go alone again" (Bessie Trounce, 11 Dec 1884) Trounce letters, Saskatchewan Archive Board S-A359, Saskatoon. Elizabeth (Bessie) Vivian Trounce emigrated from England to the Temperance Colony at Saskatoon, where she and her husband kept a store. She wrote to her family in England. 43 occurring in the vast forests of the backwoods, similar to that on which the narrative of the Canadian Crusoes is founded" (Traill, 1986: 1). Canadian Crusoes  is the story of three children who get lost in the wilderness. Hector, Louis and Catharine are distracted by wild strawberries while out in search of stray cattle. Late in the day they realise they have "wandered from the path" and "neglected, in their eagerness, to notice any particular mark by which they might regain it" (Traill, 1986: 12). The children try to find their way home, following cattle trails and stream beds, but eventually they realise that their wanderings are fruitless. They are lost, disoriented, with "no idea of distance, or the points of the compass", and no idea "in what direction the home they had lost lay" (Traill, 1986: 58). Weary and disoriented, they fall asleep in the forest. When they wake the next morning they are, like Robinson Crusoe on his island, in terra incognita. First and foremost, they must survive. They set about finding food and making shelter for themselves. They learn to survive in the particular Canadian wilderness, adapting to the plants and animals they find, which Traill renders in a detail that reflects her knowledge of Canadian natural history, and also serves to naturalise her ideas about Christianity, childhood and colonialism in Canada. Hector reflects that "children can do a great many things if they only resolutely set to work, and use the wits and strength that God has given them to work with" (Traill, 1986: 82). The children soon resign themselves to their predicament, to the space in which they have found themselves. They begin to re-orient themselves: "And now arose the question, * Where are we?'" (Traill, 1986: 22). Anticipating Northrop Frye (who, a century later, was to teach Canadians to ask "where is here?") the three young Crusoes acknowledge that they have no prior knowledge of where they are, and so must invent their world and, in the process, invent themselves, as Christian settlers: Much the children marvelled what country it might be that lay in the dim, blue, hazy distance, - to them, indeed, a terra incognita - a land of mystery; but neither of her companions laughed when Catharine gravely suggested the probability of this unknown shore to the northward being her father's beloved [Scottish] Highlands. Let not the youthful and more learned reader smile at the ignorance of the Canadian girl; she knew nothing of maps and globes, and 44 hemispheres, - her only book of study had been the Holy Scriptures, her only teacher a poor Highland soldier. (Traill, 1986: 87) The setting of their adventure, it later turns out, is only a few miles from their home, but this does not matter because it is primarily a disconnected terra incognita, a space outside their mapped, domesticated world. Despite Traill's clear geographical, botanical and zoological outline, rendered in naturalistic detail, the setting is an unknown, frightening wilderness to the children. The children transform the wilderness, building a Christian colony. The Rice Lake Plains area has been transformed in this general way, insists Traill, by practical Christian settlers like the three young Crusoes. Her story of untamed wilderness and cannibalism is set in the past, not the present. At the time my little history commences, this now highly cultivated spot was an unbroken wilderness - all but two small farms, where dwelt the only occupiers of the soil, - which owned no other possessors than the wandering hunting tribes of wild Indians, to whom the right of the hunting grounds north of Rice Lake appertained, according to the forest laws. To those who travel over beaten roads, among cultivated fields and flowery orchards, and see cleared farms and herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, the change would be a striking one. (Traill, 1986: 1) Traill misses no opportunity to promote (what is now) Ontario as a destination for emigrants, specifically for the British readers of Canadian Crusoes. Strickland's preface explicitly directs emigrants to Canada, "our nearest, our soundest colony, unstained with the corruption of convict population; where families of gentle blood need fear no real disgrace in their alliance" (Schieder, 1986: 323). 45 Figure 2.4 The  Coral Island (1858). Ralph, Jack and Peterkin encounter a shark. Ballantyne's island story mapped British boyhood and a British world view in uncompromisingly bold colours, although early editions did so figuratively rather than literally. Earlier editions of The Coral Island were illustrated in sketchy black-and-white line drawings. Ballantyne would have been distressed to learn that the shark was not anatomically correct, as geographic realism was essential to his project of naturalising images of British boyhood and British colonialism, in naturalistic images of the boys and the island. 4 6 The Coral Island: Mapping the Victorian World Ballantyne's The Coral Island (figure 2.4), a lively tale of three boys' adventures among the cannibals, pirates and exotic islands of the South Pacific, was probably the most famous Robinsonade written and published in Victorian Britain (Bratton, 1990). What Robinson Crusoe seemed only to suggest to Victorian Britons, The Coral Island spelled out. It was more arrogantly ethnocentric, more fervently religious, more exuberantly adventurous, more optimistic and more racist than its predecessor. The  Coral Island mapped the British Victorian world, and it did so in uncompromisingly bold colours. Ballantyne's three heroes, Ralph, Jack and Peterkin, embarked upon an adventure that was, above all, fun. Ralph Rover presented the book "specially to boys" in the hope that they would "derive...unbounded amusement from its pages" and "enter with kindly sympathy into the regions of fun" (Ballantyne, 1858: xi). Unlike Robinson Crusoe, who was more a survivor than an adventurer, and who was always ambivalent towards adventure, Ralph introduces his adventure without reservations of any kind. He does not doubt that the adventure is morally sound. Peterkin looks forward to his adventure excitedly. Finding himself on the island, he declares that being a castaway is "capital - first rate - and the most splendid prospect that ever lay before three jolly young tars" (Ballantyne, 1858: 15). Ralph, Jack and Peterkin are more enthusiastic about adventure than they are about work. Unlike Crusoe, they do not attempt to reconstruct an idealised, civilised British world for themselves, and they are initially content to live on what seems to them like a south sea island paradise. Industriously, they set about building a boat, but soon get bored. s Bratton (1990: vii) calls The Coral Island "one of the many tellings of a powerful mythic narrative: the story of Robinson Crusoe."  Stevenson's Treasure Island is also an island story, though much less closely related to Robinson Crusoe, and not a Christian survival story. 47 'Come, Jack,' cried Peterkin.... vlet's be jolly to-day and do something vigorous. I'm quite tired of hammering and hammering, hewing and screwing, cutting and butting, at that little boat of ours, that seems as hard to build as Noah's ark; let us go on an excursion to a mountain-top, or have a hunt after the wild ducks, or make a dash at the pigs. I'm quite flat - flat as bad ginger-beer - flat as a pancake; in fact, I want something to rouse me, to toss me up, as it were. Eh! what do you say to it?' (Ballantyne, 1858: 110) Like Robinson Crusoe, the boys set out to explore their island, ostensibly to "ascertain whether it contained any other productions which might be useful to us," and to "see whether there might be any place more convenient and suitable for our permanent residence than that on which we were now encamped" (Ballantyne, 1858: 59). Like Crusoe, they climb the mountain to gain a view of the whole island. "We found this to be the highest point of the island, and from it we saw our kingdom lying, as it were, like a map around us" (Ballantyne, 1858: 45). Thus the boys map the island, imaginatively possessing it, in the same way that British explorers, perched on promontories all over the world, masterfully possessed what they saw. It has been argued that the "monarch-of-all-I-survey" image in contemporary travel and exploration narratives constructed a relation of "mastery  ...  between the seer and the seen" (Pratt, 1992: 204). This relationship was sometimes subtle, particularly among those travellers (read by Pratt) who seemed to look but not touch, but this was not the case in The Coral Island, where seeing was explicitly equivalent with possessing the island. Ballantyne's adventurers are sure of themselves and of their place in the world, as white British males. Peterkin is cheerfully racist, confidently superior. He tells his two friends "We've got an island all to ourselves. We'll take possession in the name of the king; we'll go and enter the service of its black inhabitants. Of course we'll rise, naturally, to the top of affairs. White men always do in savage countries" (Ballantyne, 1858: 15). Predictably, the "savages" turn out to be cannibals, whom the boys help convert to Christianity and to sedentary, less carnivorous ways. 48 Ralph, Jack and Peterkin are Christians, although compared to Robinson Crusoe they devote little attention to Christian thoughts and much to Christian acts, such as rescuing Avatea, a South Sea Islander who has been condemned to death for wanting to marry a Christian chief. Just when Avatea's death is imminent, Jack remembers the Biblical passage that inspired Robinson Crusoe. "ONE who delivers those who call on Him in the time of trouble; who holds the winds in His fists and the waters in the hollows of His hand" (Ballantyne, 1858: 312). When the boys finally leave Mango, they leave behind them a smouldering pile of idols, which the newly converted natives have burned, and they look back with satisfaction to a place where "natives had commenced building a large and commodious church, under the superintendence of the missionary, and several rows of new cottages were marked out; so that the place bid fair to become, in a few months, as prosperous and beautiful as the Christian village at the other end of the island" (where the natives were already converted to Christianity) (Ballantyne, 1858: 336). The Christian island the boys leave behind them will be more accommodating to European imperialism. As a white trader explains to Ralph, "the only place among the southern islands where a ship can put in and get what she wants in comfort, is where the gospel has been sent to" (Ballantyne, 1858: 211). Few adventure stories have been gaudier, more muscular, more arrogant than The Coral Island, in which Ballantyne simplified and exaggerated the certainties of Victorian Britain, along with the middle class, Christian, white, male, colonial values of Robinson Crusoe.  The boys' story format, with boy heroes (a relatively new development in Robinsonades) and, ostensibly, boy readers (though girls and adults liked it too) made Ballantyne's simple, "if I called upon Him in the day of trouble, He would deliver me" (Defoe, undated: 71) 49 didactic presentation seem natural/' The boys' story format also seemed to explain Ballantyne's insistence upon educationally28 realistic geographical imagery, and the great embarrassment he experienced upon finding that he had made a factual error, in The Coral Island, in the description of coconuts. But, like Defoe, Ballantyne was less interested in teaching geography than he was in naturalising a set of values, in the form of realistic geographical images. Adventures in Context A weak individual, unable to succeed in his own country, of restless and unstable character, moves to an exotic locale where the technological advantage of his civilization gives him immediate superiority over the indigenous population.... He despises the natives, but is also terrified of them, and is prepared to justify massacre if he can fantasize a threat to himself. It is on this foundation that expansion and colonialism is reared, and it is for these reasons that Robinson Crusoe  demands our continuing attention. (Pearlman, 1976: 54-55) Pearlman's condemnation of Robinson Crusoe,  as a myth of British imperialism, a narrative of colonial encounter from the perspective of the white male colonist, is parallelled in the works of other recent critics, some of whom might be labelled post-colonial. But it is such an easy, wholesale dismissal of Robinson Crusoe,  that one wonders how anyone could have been nasty enough or stupid enough to take the novel seriously in the first place. To dismiss Robinson Crusoe  wholesale is potentially to refuse to see how that story functioned, how it successfully naturalised imperial world views. Also, to dismiss Robinson Crusoe  is not necessarily to make it go away, as Charles Gildon and Jonathan Swift, among the first of z' While Robinson Crusoe and early nineteenth-century Robinsonades such as Johann Wyss' Swiss  Family Robinson (1814) and Captain Marryat's Masterman Ready (1841) included mixed casts of adults and children, some mid nineteenth-century Robinsonades, such as Ballantyne's The Coral Island, became the first to have exclusively juvenile casts (Bratton, 1990). 2 8 Hannabuss (1983) notes that island settings are used as classrooms, as spaces in which to instruct readers in natural history and survival techniques, in Robinsonades such as Swiss Family Robinson and Masterman Ready. 50 Crusoe's enemies, found out. Rather than dismissing the colonial imagination that entertained dreams of a castaway on an unmapped island, I want to explore it in more detail. That means putting the text into context. It is not always (or ever?) possible to get inside the minds of the readers, but it is possible to examine the contexts and ways in which they read. In this chapter I have considered what Robinson Crusoe  meant in nineteenth-century Britain, and how it was imitated in Robinsonades published in nineteenth-century Britain. I could just as easily have asked what Robinson Crusoe  meant in eighteenth-century Germany, nineteenth-century Greenland or twentieth-century Jamaica, and the answer would have been different in each case. By focussing upon the historical and political contexts in which adventure stories were read and interpreted, one can begin to understand how they mapped home (for example, Britain) in terms of an unknown country (for example, a British colony), and an unknown country in terms of home. In other words, one can begin to understand how adventure stories mapped, both metaphorically and literally. I suggested in chapter one that the geography of adventure corresponds to Victor Turner's notion of liminal space, real and/or imaginary space on the margins of society, in which rites of passage take place, and where the seeds of social upheaval are sometimes sown. The geography of Robinson Crusoe — particularly in his nineteenth-century reincarnation — is literally liminal, as a marginal zone in which an individual passes through a rite of passage, inverting but not, it seems, ultimately subverting the social order of his home country. y Crusoe's rite of passage seems to map (rather than unmap) aspects of British society. Similarly, and more specifically, Charlie's rite of passage, in Robert Ballantyne's The Young 2" Robinson Crusoe  is literally liminal in the sense that an individual leaves his society and enters a region where social order is absent and/or inverted, but experiences a rite of passage within that space, and ultimately returns to an unchanged society. This corresponds to the rites of passage in liminal space of the tribal members described by Arnold van Gennep (1909), upon whom Turner draws. But there are also differences between Robinson Crusoe  and Gennep's tribesmen and women, one being that the former is a fictional character while the latter are real people. 5 1 Fur Traders (1856), seems to map a form of British masculinity, as I argue in the next chapter. CHAPTER THREE GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE/ BECOMING SOMETHING ELSE: BECOMING MANLY IN R. M. BALLANTYNE'S THE YOUNG FUR TRADERS Exotic, liminal spaces, where some of the rules of society are suspended, and where others are inverted, sometimes serve to naturalise the social order; their inversion is not subversive. In adventure stories set in exotic spaces heroes behave in ways that would not be possible at home, and encounter dangers and difficulties that would not be found at home, but in doing so they undergo rites of passage that change them (from non-believer to Christian or from boy to man, for example), but seem to leave their society unchanged. Robinson Crusoe,  as a myth of mneteenth-century British society, illustrates this point at a general level. For a more focussed exploration of the way in which the geography of adventure serves to map -conservatively reinscribe — aspects of Victorian British society, I now turn to the Scottish writer, Robert Ballantyne, and specifically to his first Canadian novel, The Young Fur Traders (1856). I select Ballantyne because of his importance in contemporary Canadian adventure fiction, his association with Christian manliness — the dominant ideology of masculinity in Victorian and Edwardian adventure fiction — and his fame in Britain, derived partly from the success of The Coral Island. Robert Ballantyne maps a form of British manliness in the setting of The Young Fur Traders (1856) (figure 3.1). The setting is a realistic but distant, virtually unknown2, seemingly 1 Where possible, first editions are cited. Otherwise, date of first edition is given, in brackets at time of first mention. Egoff (1992) provides a virtually comprehensive bibliography of Canadian children's books published before 1940. The region was not unknown to all, of course. It was known to native inhabitants and fur traders. But Ballantyne presented it as a largely unknown space. To many of his readers it was, indeed, terra incognita. 53 uncomplicated space, in which Ballantyne simplifies, naturalises and idealises a form of Christian manliness. The Young Fur Traders "plunges the reader into the middle of an Arctic Winter; conveys him into the heart of the Wildernesses of North America" (Ballantyne, 1856: 9). Ballantyne leads the reader, who he presumes is male, into an imaginary space, a terra incognita of the contemporary British geographical imagination, where exciting adventures will take place, and where a particular vision of manliness will be defined. R.M. Ballantyne and The Young Fur Traders Robert Michael Ballantyne (1825-1894) was popular with Victorian children, particularly boys. A survey conducted among British school children in 1884 placed him well inside the top ten writers for boys (Table 3.1), alongside other adventure writers including W.H.G. Kingston, Jules Verne and Captain Marryat (Salmon, 1886, 1888). Tales of adventure, by writers such as these, were published in boys' magazines and in full-length books (Drotner, 1988; Terry, 1983). 54 ' Figure 3.1 Snowflakes and Sunbeams; or,  The Young Fur Traders, a  Tale of the Far North (1856 Nelson edition): title page. Illustrations by R.M. Ballantyne. -&%£&. 55 Table 3.1. Favourite Authors: Who is your favourite author?' Boys Girls Total % Total % (790) (100) (1210) (100) Charles Dickens W.H.G. Kingston Walter Scott Jules Verne Captain Marryat R.M. Ballantyne Harrison Ainsworth William Shakespeare Mayne Reid Lord Lytton Charles Kingsley Daniel Defoe J. Grant J.F. Cooper C M . Yonge Mrs Henry Wood E. Wetherell George Eliot 223 179 128 114 102 67 61 44 33 32 28 24 12 12 0 0 0 9 28 23 16 14 13 8 8 6 4 4 4 3 2 2 0 0 0 1 335 19 248 22 5 6 0 75 0 46 103 8 0 0 100 58 56 50 28 2 20 2 0.5 0.5 0 6 0 4 9 1 0 0 8 5 5 4 •* Survey conducted by Charles Welsh in 1884, analysis and report by Salmon, presented with no demographic data (age, class/school, regional breakdowns) that might have indicated representativeness and accuracy. Salmon states that of 2000 respondents. 790 were boys; this means there were 1210 girls, although Salmon does not say so explicitly. Responses show that many of the most popular authors are writers of adventure stories: these include W.H.G. Kingston, Jules Verne, Captain Marryat, Robert M. Ballantyne and Mayne Reid. 56 In the late twentieth century Ballantyne is best remembered as the author of The Coral Island (1858), but in his life time he was associated - both as an author and a "real life adventurer" - less with the South Pacific than with British North America. Ballantyne began his career as a published writer with a memoir of his life as a Hudson's Bay Company apprentice, Hudson's Bay; or, Every-Day Life in the Wilds of North America, a home-made effort with illustrations by the author, which was privately issued in 1847. The preface explains that The illustrative wood-cuts scattered throughout the volume, are from drawings made on the spot by the Author. He originally intended giving views of eight or ten forts and establishments of the Hudson's Bay Company, but has thought it better to reduce the number of these, and substitute, for the remainder, representations of scenes and objects which pages of letterpress would often fail in placing correctly before the reader. (Ballantyne, 1847: xi) Ballantyne was an "accomplished artist" and he "supplied nearly all the illustrations for his books himself" (Whalley and Chester, 1988: 134). Figure 3.1, for example, shows his design for the title page of the first edition of Snowflakes and Sunbeams; or,  The Young Fur Traders. Like The Coral Island, Snowflakes  and Sunbeams was originally brighter in its language — its vivid imagery — than in its illustrations. Colourfully-illustrated editions of such stories^ tend to date from later in the nineteenth or early in the twentieth century. The brightening-up of Ballantyne's stories was partly a reflection of his greater popularity as a writer — as he was worth the investment of higher production costs ~ and also a result of increased availability of cheap colour reproduction techniques. A comparison of figures 3.1, 3.2 and 3.3 underlines the changing appearance of illustrations, which were becoming brighter and more luxurious, as they changed with the fashions of children's book illustration. Many of which are undated or incorrectly dated, and therefore seem earlier than they are. 57 Figure 3.2 The Young Fur Traders (1896 Nelson edition): title page. -.;.. :-. (oy&uN©. FUR IRADER S ?o T v \3 a F" w o ^ ie FQ P Norf k 58 Figure 3.3 The Young Fur Traders (1925 Blackie edition): frontispiece showing Hammy on show shoes. Illustrated by M. Mackinlay \ r-\ : ; j * • - > • - ; > « » •< . * • w '  nf l 59 Figure 3.4 Ballantyne in Scotland, dressed as voyageur (source: Quayle, 1967: frontispiece). Ballantyne returned from Canada via New York, where he acquired clothes and a haircut that would have identified him, if anything, as a young, urban dandy. His rustic, Canadian look was cultivated later on, in Scotland. 60 Ballantyne subsequently set at least thirteen full-length adventure stories in North America, beginning with his first work of fiction, Snowflakes  and Sunbeams; or,  The Young Fur Traders, a  Tale of the Far North (1856), subsequently (after three editions) published as The Young Fur Traders. His other North American adventures include such titles as Ungava: a Tale of Esquimaux-Land (1858), The Dog Crusoe: a Tale of the Western Prairies (1861) and The Golden Dream; or, Adventures in the Far West (1861). In addition to his reputation as a prolific writer, Ballantyne was also known as an orator who performed to capacity crowds in the town halls of Scotland and England, dressed in full fur trader's costume, singing voyageur songs and telling yarns of life in the wilds of British North America (figure 3.4). Ballantyne became a celebrity, particularly among children, who would often follow him around and badger him for autographs. One such fan, a fifteen-year-old boy who rushed up to the author in a public park, expressing admiration for his stories, and inviting him to dinner, was Robert Louis Stevenson, who later wrote Treasure Island, Kidnapped  and other late-Victorian adventure classics (Quayle, 1967). It was on the basis of his experience with the Hudson's Bay Company (HBC) that "the brave Mr. Ballantyne" found material for his first adventure novel, The  Young Fur Traders, which describes the adventures of a fifteen-year-old HBC apprentice, Charley Kennedy, and his fourteen-year-old friend, Harry Somerville. Other dramatis personae include a voyageur named Jacques Caradoc; a Christian Indian known as Redfeather; his adversary, Misconna; and wife, Wabisca. For The Young Fur Traders, Ballantyne drew on his own experiences in 3 Also Away in the Wilderness; or,  Life Among the Red Indians and Fur-Traders of North America (1863b); The Wild Man of the West; a Tale of the Rocky Mountains (1863a); Over the Rocky Mountains; or,  Wandering Will  in the Land of the Red Skins (1869); The Pioneers; a  Tale of the Western Wilderness  (1872); Tales of Adventure by Flood, Field  and Mountain (1874); The Red Man's Revenge; a  Tale of the Red River Flood (1880); The Prairie Chief (1886); The Big Otter; a Tale of the Great Nor'West (1887) and The Buffalo Runners; a  Tale of the Red River Plains (1891). Quayle (1968) gives a comprehensive bibliography of the first editions of R.M. Ballantyne. 6 1 British North America, including adventures he had, observations he made, and yarns he heard. Like Charley, Ballantyne left a Scottish family home as a teenager at the age of 16, to embark upon a term of service with the HBC (his five-year term began in 1841). Ballantyne served at Fort Garry and York Factory, places described in the book, and like Charley and Harry, he endured long spells of office work, punctuated by hunting and canoe trips, and by service at a remote outpost (he was in charge of the lonely and remote Seven Islands trading post, at Tadoussac) (Peel, 1968: 1-4; Quayle, 1967, 1968; Selby, 1963).7 As soon as his five years were up, Ballantyne resigned. First published in 1856, The Young Fur Traders went through multiple reprintings and editions, and remained in print for about a century. It established Ballantyne's style, maintained with little variation in his other adventure stories, particularly those set in North America. For example, the cast of characters in The Young Fur Traders is replicated almost exactly in The Pioneers (including a sixteen-year-old male hero and his manly father, as well ° Although Charley's home was in Red River, not Scotland. He also spent part of 1845 at Lachine, near Quebec City, as Sir George Simpson's personal secretary. ° The British Library catalog lists twelve editions of Snowflakes and Sunbeams; or, the Young Fur Traders, between 1856 and 1950. These were published by: Nelson (1856, 1857, 1901, 1908); Ward, Lock & Co. (1901); Nisbet (1901); Partridge (1913); Oxford University Press (1923); Blackie (1925, 1950); Juvenile Productions (1937); Gawthorn (1948). It is very difficult to establish publishing and marketing statistics for books published in the nineteenth century and early twentieth century. The Nelson archive, containing the ledgers and correspondence of Thomas Nelson & Sons Limited, at the University of Edinburgh Special Collections (MS Gen. 1728), contains nothing before the 1890s (John V. Howard, Librarian, University of Edinburgh Library, personal communication, 4 February, 1994). Unfortunately, the Blackie archive was sold, along with the rest of the company, in 1992. Miss M.R. Baxter, formerly of the Scottish Book Centre, worked in the Blackie archive shortly before it was sold, and she advised me, "I very much doubt if this information [re. commercial records] is now available anywhere.... publishers at the beginning of the century were not always as archive-conscious as they might be today" (Mary R. Baxter, 18 Crown Terrace, Glasgow, personal communication, 14 January 1994). 62 as a conventionally "good" Indian and his wife), and in The Prairie Chief  (including a white trapper, a converted Indian and his wife, and a Wesleyan missionary). In order to produce at least two full-length tales a year — over seventy during the course of his writing career — in addition to his other short stories and works of juvenile non-fiction, Ballantyne had simply to apply the formula he established in The Young Fur Traders. The formula worked for other writers of Canadian adventure stories in the Victorian and Edwardian periods. According to Sheila Egoff, the Canadian juvenile literature critic, "most later writers of the [Canadian] boy's adventure story strove for the Ballantyne style" (Egoff, 1992: 112). And the basic formula worked in adventure stories, by Ballantyne and others, set outside North America. Publishers, writers and readers were content to produce, write and read vast quantities of stories, with formula plots and characters, most set in exotic regions that varied only in detail, not in essence. Ballantyne anticipated the lively, Christian adventure story of the late-Victorian period, epitomised in the house style of the Boy's Own Paper, which began publication in 1879, and to which Ballantyne was a regular contributor. Reading stories like The Coral  Island or The Young Fur Traders today, one may be struck by their racism and sexism, their religious didacticism, and their images of boyhood and manhood. Although these different components cannot be altogether separated, critics have focussed profitably upon the ways in which stories construct race (Parker, 1991), empire (Dunae, 1975, 1980; Green, 1979; Huttenback, 1970; Mackenzie, 1984, 1986; Richards, 1989) and gender (Boyd, 1991; Bratton, 1989; Reynolds, 1990; Thomson, 1956). I focus on masculinity. In order to show how adventure settings function as imaginative space in which a form of masculinity was mapped, I first consider the literary and political context of Victorian Britain, in which boys' adventure stories and other gendered juvenile fictions were produced and consumed, and then focus upon the ways in which The Young Fur Traders uses its Canadian setting to define a form of British manliness. 63 Victorian Boys' Stories and the Politics of Manliness Ballantyne's early adventure novels appeared in print at around the same time as Charles Kingsley's Westward  Ho! (1855) and Tom Hughes' school story, Tom Brown's School Days (1857). The latter is widely regarded as a seminal departure in Victorian boys' fiction and in the construction of boyhood and manhood. Both Hughes and Ballantyne placed an increased emphasis upon physical aspects of manliness, but where Hughes did so in a comparatively sophisticated philosophy connected to a broader politics, and left room for different forms of manliness, Ballantyne presented a relatively simple, singular manliness, not connected to any clearly formulated, broader political project. Mid-century British juvenile literature remained a predominantly Christian literature. Produced largely by evangelical organisations such as the Religious Tract Society (RTS) and the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge (SPCK), favoured (and distributed) by Sunday schools, and faithful to long-standing traditions of Puritan storytelling, it was piously austere (Egoff and Saltman, 1990; Allen and McClure, 1898; Lowther Clarke, 1959). The boys of juvenile literature, much like their female counterparts (since images of boyhood and girlhood in fiction were less polarised at this time than they became later in the century), were ascetic, angelic and (according to contemporary conceptions of femininity and ' Perhaps the term "seminal" is sexist, but it seems appropriate in this context. 64 masculinity) more feminine (pure, asexual) than masculine (sexual, aggressive) (Nelson, 1991).10 The imagery of boys and men in children's stories was transformed in the second half of the nineteenth century. Characters such as Goody Two Shoes and Jemmy Studious, early Victorian remnants of the essentially seventeenth-century Puritan children's storytelling tradition, were supplanted by livelier figures like Frank Fearless and Dick Dare (Turner, 1957). The transformation of juvenile fiction, initiated by writers such as Ballantyne and Hughes, was promoted by developments - both literary and commercial - in Britain's juvenile publishing industry. Publishers were responding to the emergence of a largely new social, demographic and literary phenomenon: literate adolescence (Bratton, 1981; Dunae, 1989: 12-33). The growth of literate adolescence in Victorian Britain was the product of many forces, including high birth rates, general material improvement, and wider availability of primary education, initially at Sunday school, but increasingly in secular day schools. This general rise in literacy was long established by 1870, when an education Act ensured universal access to elementary education; ten years later another Act made such education compulsory. Britain's state schools not only provided a secular education, they also delayed entry to the work force and helped delay adulthood in general. These factors contributed to the rapid expansion of a juvenile literature market, a market that became increasingly competitive and specialised (Dunae, 1989). Edward Salmon, a critic of juvenile literature, commented in 1888 that "[wjhoever undertakes to write the literary history of England during the latter half of the Nineteenth Century will be confronted by a force hitherto almost non-existent. The *® To understand the argument that boys were "feminine" rather than "masculine" according to contemporary constructions of femininity (or femininities) and masculinity (or masculinities), it is first necessary to see the distinctions between boyhood, manhood, boyishness, manliness (etc.) and masculinity. In other words, male figures are not always figurative images of masculinity. Male figures may be feminine (Nelson, 1991), while female figures may be constructed as masculine, as Bessie Marchant's and Enid Blyton's female heroes demonstrate. 65 floods of books for boys and girls with which the approach of Christmas has in recent years heralded, were unknown four decades ago" (Salmon, 1888: 32). The "feminine" boys of juvenile literature were challenged, most explicitly, by Christian Socialists — including J.M. Ludlow, F.D. Maurice, Charles Kingsley and Tom Hughes — who used boys' stories and images of muscular boys (partly) in order to articulate a Christian political response to contemporary problems of public health and poverty in Britain (Vance, 1985). Departing from the asceticism of traditional Puritan juvenile literature, and from the alleged asceticism of contemporary Roman Catholic and evangelical Christians, Kingsley and his Christian Socialist comrades asserted an ideology of vigorously physical, worldly "Christian manliness" (known by its critics as "muscular Christianity"). Christian manliness -- short for humanliness — was not intended to be an exclusively male idea (Haley, 1978); Christian Socialists were concerned not just with male bodies but with all bodies. In practice, however, Christian Socialists spoke about men (not humans), about manliness (not humanliness), about male bodies (not all bodies). The Working Men's College (London), of which Maurice was the principal and Hughes the boxing instructor, was known for its "austerely masculine atmosphere," as was the Christian Socialist imagery of health: the imagery of male athleticism (Masterman, 1963: 169). The male, athletic manliness of Christian Socialism can be traced to British public schools and (British public) school stories. Schools and school stories played a central role in promoting the cult of (male) sports that was to sweep through Britain in the second half of the century. Prominent in this movement was Rugby School, led by Dr. Arnold, which provided the setting for Tom Brown's School Days (1857). In the figure of Tom Brown, Hughes is widely credited with (or blamed for) inventing the muscular Christian or, more generally, the respectable strong man of juvenile fiction. Although the influence of this 66 school story should not be underestimated, neither should its images of manliness be reduced to a singular, muscular masculinity. As the critic Claudia Nelson reminds us, Tom Brown's School Days presents a more heterogeneous manliness in which, for example, Tom's physical "masculimty" is countered by the angelic "femininity" of his friend, George Arthur, and by a mixed cast of other male characters. Christian manliness, comparatively androgynous and heterogeneous in school stories, the pattern of which was established in the middle of the century, was caricatured and simplified in adventure stories. Nelson explains that the late nineteenth-century move away from an idealised "feminine" boyhood was partly a result of the contemporary (re)invention of female sexuality, which contradicted the belief that active sexuality was an exclusively masculine trait. If boys could not be asexual (the old "feminine" ideal) they could at least be "normal" (masculine, heterosexual and pre-maritally chaste) (Nelson, 1991). The more singularly "masculine" manliness was a product not of the school story, but rather of the adventure story, of the particular historically specific (Victorian, British, juvenile) version of a more conventionally masculinist narrative. The literary-political developments initiated by Christian Socialists made it possible for "respectable" boys' stories to be more exciting, and for exciting boys' stories to be more "respectable." In an increasingly competitive juvenile market, some publishers made their "penny dreadfuls" less dreadful in order to appeal to the parents and teachers who, they knew, exercised some control over their children's reading (figure 3.5). Edwin J. Brett, founder of the Newsagents' Publishing Company, which had specialized in the fiercest of "bloods," launched the comparatively tame Boys of England in 1866, announcing that "our aim is to enthrall by wild and wonderful but healthy fiction" (Turner, 1957: 67).11 Meanwhile, Christian publishers began to recognise that they would not control the juvenile 1 1 Nelson (1991: 126) notes that Brett was "barred in 1866 from reprinting The wild boys of London by the combined pressures of Victorian mores and police intervention." 67 market with moral tales alone, that if they did not make their stories more exciting and attractive (according to contemporary tastes) they would lose readers, influence and customers. Evangelicals, recently criticised by Christian Socialists as otherworldly , played an important role in publishing lively Christian stories, including adventure stories. Evangelical publishers including SPCK, RTS and Nelson produced attractive, illustrated books and magazines. Among Nelson's publications were works by Robert Ballantyne, who at the age of 24 was already an elder of the Free Church of Scotland, and a writer who knew how to make his stories less austere and more exciting than most conventional religious literature (Quayle, 1967: 88). Exciting Christian magazines were launched. One year before The Young Fur Traders appeared on the bookstalls, Samuel Orchart Beeton launched Britain's first Christian response to the changing magazine market. The Boy's Own Magazine (1855) achieved a circulation in the tens of thousands, modestly successful by contemporary standards, but dwarfed by the success of The Boy's Own Paper, launched by the RTS in 1879, which achieved a circulation above one million at the magazine's peak (Turner, 1957: 66; Dunae, 1976; Cox, 1982). Ballantyne was a regular contributor to the The Boy's Own Paper (widely known as BOP, pronounced B-O-P) (figure 3.6). In his obituary, published in the BOP, Ballantyne was praised for his lively, Christian stories, and he was described as "at once amongst the manliest of men and the sincerest of Christians" (Boy's Own Paper, 1893-4: 429). *2 As early as 1824, in its 25th annual report, the RTS acknowledged that its 1,688,760 children's books sold the previous year represented no more than one-fifth of the market, and that greater efforts were needed to win back readers (Bratton, 1981: 38). *3 That is, they were allegedly concerned with solely spiritual matters, and paid little attention to the basic worldly needs of the people. 68 Figure 3.5 Books as prizes and presents. Inscriptions show that children often received rather than chose or bought books. Parents, other adult relatives, Sunday and secular day school teachers all selected books for children, with an eye on their moral as well as entertainment value. The  Gorilla Hunters (Ballantyne, undated Blackie edition) from Uncle Tidy to J. Tullock. Jessie Ringer received The  Dog Crusoe (Ballantyne, 1906 Nelson edition) as a Sunday school prize. J . tJcJ-tooK, /rtrCfi Ot-rvcCe-  tycc/'W  '$• edt /Ti&fied-. ar° %^^qp^. JOHN MARSHAL L *  CO. , 4 1 , PATERNOSTE R R o w , LOWDOM , E .C . 69 Plate 3.6 The  Boy's  Own  Paper  (April 16, 1883) with cover story by Ballantyne, depicting exotic North American setting and physical action, and describing the triumph of a boy hero's "manhood" over his fear and "dread". Ballantyne was a regular contributor to BOP, that magazine that successfully fused moral instruction and entertaining action, appealing to adults and children alike. BOYS OW N PAPER i ta v«i v tUTUHDAV Af-RIl Si i |) HVi« K Hoi'GHT ll*«*-' >' h" • <";">-l *«•«;« «a » '• > . fitch iuk m.i b*"iy !wy< «uiiit' J- «^iii^: m A  i«« :.>! :m?i?t|nwjit; -U>  ,J ij»/iuff -•?•» tae, *v*lt  m lyaf Kjtft i } i ilipfKS M t d « ] * ! . I ; »  iy,i BW^fali^ t o tk * iiuWCTif ) Uw t fc» fe*-j ilrfl bilfk' } all>* . Hi * J •aiiafar <m vs *&••« )ur U M -70 Christian adventure stories, told to a juvenile audience, were a principal component of magazines like BOP. The precedent for Christian juvenile adventure fiction, first produced in the middle of the nineteenth century by writers such as Ballantyne, Captain Marryat and Mayne Reid, was earlier adult (or not age-specific) adventure. Modern adventure classics by Daniel Defoe, Jonathan Swift and James Fenimore Cooper, none of them originally intended specifically for juvenile audiences, were in many cases re-issued (sometimes abridged, edited, illustrated) and re-marketed as children's literature. Robinson Crusoe  was the most popular book among the school boys surveyed in 1884, and Defoe was their eleventh favorite writer (Salmon, 1888: 14). Adventure was not simply made available to juveniles; specific stories, not intrinsically or necessarily juvenile, were defined as juvenile14, and adventure more generally was redefined as juvenile. Paul Zweig laments what he sees as an "unprecedented decline" of adventure in the modern period, particularly the nineteenth century. * He explains that adventure, qualifying neither as serious literature (partly because of the rise of the novel and its psychological orientation), nor as serious geographical or historical non-fiction (because of the rise of scientific, empirical ideals in these modern 1 4 Juvenile literature may be defined on the basis of its form and/or its intended or actual readership. No literary form is intrinsically juvenile, although certain characteristics — such as short sentences, simple vocabulary, didacticism — are particularly common in so-called juvenile literature. But in practice juveniles often read "adult" literature and adults often read "juvenile" literature. In the early nineteenth century, when relatively few lively children's books were available, children often read adult literature, including "penny dreadfuls" (slang for low-brow magazines). Later in the century, when exciting "juvenile" literature was more readily available, children read more juvenile literature, but so did adults. Some stories — notably Robinson Crusoe  and Gulliver's Travels — have been defined as juvenile in certain contexts, and as adult in others. Definitions of "juvenile literature" are therefore never very precise. For example, Bingham (1988: 382) notes that "regarding the twenty-four works [Captain] Marryat published, there is little agreement about which are children's books. Some early critics, taking a dim view of stories of adventure and derring-do, claimed that all of them were suitable only for childish minds, whereas many fellow writers ... looked on his writings with favour." " Zweig condemns what he sees as the decline of adventure in the modern period. Adventure, in his view, has lost its vitality as it has been moralised and civilised, generally watered down. "The modern world's dismissal of adventure as an entertaining but minor experience is unprecedented. Few cultures have been so willing to tempt the gods. That we should says a great deal about the arrogance of our cultural values" (Zweig, 1974: vii). 71 disciplines), was relegated to cultural "backwaters" such as juvenile fiction. But whether it is regarded as a low or a high point for adventure in general, the Victorian period was a golden age for adventure in juvenile fiction. Rites of Passage in The  Young Fur Traders Come, then! let us journey together to the "Fur Countries;" let us cross them from south to north. A vast journey it will be. (Reid, 1854: 1) Many adventure stories written in the Victorian period were explicitly addressed to boys and marketed to boys. Mayne Reid, for example, stated in a preface to The Boy Hunters, that he was writing for boys: "For the boy readers of England and America this book has been written, and to them it is dedicated" (Reid, 1853: v). So-called "boys' stories" were, indeed, generally most popular among boys. For example, Robinson Crusoe  and Swiss Family Robinson were the most popular books among boys surveyed in 1884, but were the favorites of only a very small minority of girls who responded to the same survey. Nevertheless, contemporary critic Edward Salmon (1888: 28) suggested that "if we were to take the country through, we should find that as many girls as boys have read Robinson Crusoe,  Tom Brown's School Days, and other long-lived v boys' stories'." According to the survey, The Boy's Own Paper, the most popular magazine among boys, was also the second most popular magazine among girls (Table 2). One girl explained the attraction of boys' stories: "people try to make boys' books as exciting and amusing as possible, while we girls, who are much quicker and more imaginative, are very often supposed to read milk-and-watery sorts of stories that we could generally write better ourselves" (Salmon, 1888: 29). One woman, 1 0 Boys: of the 790 surveyed, 24 (3%) said Defoe was their favorite author; 43 said Robinson Crusoe  was their favorite book; the second most popular book was a Robinsonade, Swiss Family Robinson, mentioned by 24 (3%). Girls: of 1210 surveyed, 8 said Defoe was their favorite author, while 2 said Robinson Crusoe  was their favorite book, compared to 6 for Swiss Family Robinson. The number one favorite author, among both boys and girls, was Charles Dickens. 72 surveyed in an Australian oral history of reading in the period 1890 through 1930, recalled that as a girl she came across bound copies of the Boy's Own Paper that belonged to an uncle, which she devoured; they were "full of bloodthirsty things and adventure and boys" (Lyons and Taksa, 1992: 100). So-called "boys' stories" were also read by men and women (Turner, 1957: 12; Reynolds, 1990: 142, 26). But while the term "boys' story" does not always accurately describe who reads a story, it does identify the principal character(s): boys. The boy heroes of Victorian adventure, unlike their counterparts in most earlier adventure stories (right up to Robinson Crusoe,  Swiss Family Robinson and Masterman Ready, all with adult heroes), do not start out pre-formed, timeless heroes; they do not set out with manly qualities, but acquire them en route. The boy's adventures constitute his "rite  depassage from white boyhood into white manhood" (Green, 1991: 41). In the opening scene of The Young Fur Traders, the reader is introduced to Charley Kennedy, a fifteen-year-old who has "entered upon that ambiguous condition that precedes early manhood" (Ballantyne, 1856: 9). If Ballantyne sounds awkward when he introduces the hero of The Young Fur Traders as not a child but not yet a man, that may be because he has no concept of adolescence. Adolescence had yet to be discovered, and the adolescent hero had yet to make his debut in juvenile literature. ' x / Demos and Demos (1969) and Kett (1971, 1977) argue that adolescence was "discovered" in Britain and America in the Victorian period, particularly the 1890s. Contemporary treatises on adolescence include G. Stanley Hall's Adolescence, published in New York in 1904. Kett (1977: 215) argues that "the era of the adolescent dawned in Europe and America in the two decades after 1900". While the concept of adolescence was applied universally — to an entire age group - in the early twentieth century, its origins were more class and gender specific. Kett argues that adolescence, associated with increased schooling and deferral of employment and other responsibilities of adulthood, was a middle-class phenomenon in North America and Britain in the 1880s and 1890s. Dryhouse (1981) argues, further, that the concept and phenomenon of adolescence was predominantly male, since it was associated with male privilege, particularly schooling and the gradual acquisition of independence. She argues that female adolescence, like male, began as a middle-class phenomenon. 73 Table 3.2. Favourite Magazines and Papers: Which  is  your favourite magazine or paper?™ The Boy's Own  Paper Tit Bits The Standard The Union  Jack The Boy's World Girl's Own  Paper Little Folks Cassell 's Family Magazine Quiver 404 27 20 16 16 0 7 0 0 Total (790) Bovs % (100) 51 3 3 2 2 0 1 0 0 Girls Total (1210) 88 0 0 4 0 315 71 35 29 % (100) 7 0 0 0.5 0 26 6 3 2 *° Welsh's 1884 survey detects readership of respectable magazines; children would not - in a survey conducted at their school - be so likely to mention their less respectable favourites. See caption for Table 3.1. 74 Figure 3.7 Arrowsmith map of Canada (1854). Arrowsmith maps, were regularly updated and revised, on the basis of information supplied by the Hudson's Bay Company. Dedicated to the HBC, and "containing the latest information which [HBC] documents furnish," Arrowsmith were effectively the official, definitive cartographers of Western Canada in the mid-nineteenth century. See Loose Insert 75 Charley, faced with the prospect of a desk job and a life at the Hudson's Bay Company's Fort Garry, near the relatively civilized Red River settlement, explains to his slightly younger sister, Kate, that he is "determined to run away" (Ballantyne, 1856: 10). Charley's father, who ran away from his Scottish family home as a boy, to the Hudson's Bay Company territories of British North America, makes a poor job of persuading Charley to stay in Fort Garry. Frank Kennedy warns his son of "dangers both from wild beasts and wild men" that he would face in the territories, leading "a miserable sort of Robinson Crusoe life, with red Indians and starvation constantly staring you in the face" (Ballantyne, 1856: 24). Charley's determination to leave Red River, to work for the HBC in the wildernesses of the north and west, is only increased, and eventually his father admits defeat. The following spring a restless Charley Kennedy prepares to join a party of voyageurs, to enter the spaces of his adventure, and ultimately to enter his own "early manhood" (Ballantyne, 1856: 9). The space of Charley's adventure is geographically realistic, to the extent that the principal rivers, lakes and HBC forts are described and located in a manner that does not contradict contemporary geographical knowledge, that is, the knowledge of European geographers and fur traders, as depicted in the Arrowsmith maps that were considered definitive at the time (from 1834 to 1858, at least, when they were issued) (figure 3.7). Although Ballantyne did explicitly assert his right "to transpose time, place, and circumstance at pleasure" (Ballantyne, 1856: 3), he always attempted to get the basic geographical "facts" right, and was even applauded by contemporary critics for his geographically informative writing (Salmon, 1888). 9 But, while it is true that Ballantyne (unlike some of his literary i y Critics such as Edward Salmon and Charlotte Yonge applauded Verne, Ballantyne and Kingston for their geography, Henry and Edgar for their history, and Daunt, Reid and Marryat for the natural history in their stories (Salmon, 1888; Yonge, 1886). Reid (1854: i), for example, assured readers (and their parents) "that he is not conscious of having taken any liberty, for the sake of effect, with the laws of nature - with its fauna or flora". 76 contemporaries^") did not "transpose" geography beyond the point of general recognition, it is also true that the geography of the HBC territories was largely "unknown" (to many British 11 and Canadian readers^*) until the mid 1850s, when the British and Canadians mounted high-profile explorations of the HBC territories. 2 Since large regions of British North America remained "unknown", it was possible to set "realistic" adventures there while retaining a considerable degree of freedom to invent geographies, or to leave geographies open, ambiguous, mysterious. Ballantyne was perhaps most explicit about his imaginative use of such spaces in The Pioneers, a tale based on Alexander Mackenzie's explorations of British American wilderness, much of which was "almost terra incognita" (Ballantyne, 1872: vii). Ballantyne presents an image of the explorer, in 1789, in a remote HBC outpost at the northern end of Lake Superior. The unmapped space around him is amenable to Mackenzie's geographical fantasies, and to the geographical fantasies of Ballantyne and his readers. Alexander Mackenzie — while seated in the lowly hut of that solitary outpost poring over his map, trying to penetrate mentally into those mysterious and unknown lands which lay just beyond him - saw, in imagination, a great river winding its course among majestic mountains towards the shores of the ice-laden polar seas. (Ballantyne, 1872: 34) Another Canadian explorer whose journey in terra incognita, and his unknown fate, caught the imaginations of popular writers and readers, was Sir John Franklin. The mysterious disappearance of Franklin inspired Jules Verne to write Strange Journeys, the  English at the North Pole (1866) and a sequel, The World of Ice (1866) (Evans, 1965). The space that z u To many of those who know the Canadian northwest first hand, the setting of many Victorian adventure stories seems little more than an "imperial dream," a geography of "fantasies" and "misperception" (Moyles and Owram, 1988: 40, 59). Poor quality magazines were guilty of many geographical "errors", and of geographical "cliches" — re-used and/or plagiarised illustrations (Turner, 1957: 107). 2* Although fur traders and British and Canadian explorers had already charted the broad outlines of western British North American geography. 2 2 This, it was sometimes alleged (usually by expansionists who regarded the HBC as a conservative force, impeding settlement in the west), was partly because the HBC kept its geographical knowledge private (Owram, 1980). I develop this argument in chapter five. 77 writers could call terra incognita  diminished gradually over time. By 1882, when Achilles Daunt wrote The Three Trappers (1882), it was necessary to retreat to a relatively distant corner of the northwest territories, a "region which on most maps is represented by a blank". Daunt begins the tale by plunging his readers into a space that is not circumscribed by names or maps, a space that remains open to the adventurous imagination. "Westward, towards the setting sun, across the vast prairies of the North West Territory, beyond lakes and rivers without number, lies a land which even to this day is imperfectly known to the geographer" (Daunt, 1882: 13). Ballantyne points to a vast, unnamed region in The Young Fur Traders. From Fort Garry, "the great prairie rolled out like a green sea to the horizon, and far beyond that again to the base of the Rocky Mountains" (Ballantyne, 1856: 17). By pointing to the northwest but not naming it, Ballantyne defines a sublime space, a space that is beyond comprehension and/or description, that leaves the observer in awed silence (see Hippie, 1957). To "articulate west," explains W.H. New, would be to undermine the sublimity of the west: "to find words to articulate it, is paradoxically at once to create and limit it. In the act of articulation, the endlessness of possibility is circumscribed, for an actual identity is announced" (New, 1972: xii). And so the adventurer enters an unnamed, trackless wilderness, a region of directions rather than destinations23, space rather than place. While Ballantyne does not break the promise, made in the preface, that The Young Fur Traders will be a geographically-realistic story, neither does he allow his adventurers to become mired in details and place-names that would domesticate and circumscribe the spaces of their would-be adventure. ** Particular places and locational details are therefore kept out of the story. 2 3 Loraine, the hero of W.H.G. Kingston's Frontier Fort (1879: 35), travels through northwestern landscape "destitute ... of all landmarks," in which his only spatial orientation is that provided by "a good compass". Loraine travels in unknown space, along the abstract paths marked out by compass bearings. 2** Paul Carter's discussion of Australian explorers' place names parallels mine of adventurers' place names. Explorers, he argues, preserve the traces of encounter in their maps and names, which serve as directional pointers in dynamic landscapes, rather than geographic "facts" in more static landscapes (Carter, 1987). 78 Harry, excitedly joining Charley and the voyageurs as they prepare to head north into Lake Winnipeg, does not have any geographical details worked out. "I'm going all the way, and a great deal farther. I'm going to hunt buffaloes in the Saskatchewan, and grizzly bears in the -- the - in fact everywhere!" (Ballantyne, 1856: 80). Jacques Caradoc, an older hunter and voyageur with whom the young voyageurs travel at various times, has had many years of experience in the northwest, but he remains equally uninterested in the details of its geography. To hunt, to toil in rain and in sunshine, in heat and in cold, at the paddle or on the snowshoe, was his vocation, and it mattered little to the bold hunter whether he plied it upon the plains of the Saskatchewan, or among the woods of Athabasca. (Ballantyne, 1856: 338) Ballantyne also exhibits a general ambivalence towards the details of particular places and locations in some of his landscape descriptions, which are often vaguely romantic — "grand and savage" landscapes with "wild primeval forests" and mountains bathed in the "rich glow of red" light — and which are reminiscent more of European landscape (literary and artistic) cliches and conventions than of anything specifically western Canadian (that may also be clicked and conventional) (Ballantyne, 1856: 171-3). This is not simply because Ballantyne was unable to see or describe western Canada, and not simply because he was burdened by the aesthetic conventions of contemporary British popular culture. On the contrary, Ballantyne's generic landscapes and vague geographies serve the purposes of his story, in defining a setting that is open to the adventurous imagination, malleable enough to serve the purposes of his narrative. Short on geographic detail, the setting is primarily a space removed from the hero's enclosed, domesticated home. It is a space of freedom and movement. Travel provides boys' adventure stories with most of their (generally linear, yet minimal) structure, and it also provides opportunities for most of the action, whether on horseback, in snowshoes, with a dog sledge, in a canoe or on foot. Ballantyne describes each of these forms of locomotion 79 with enthusiasm, and with a degree of detail that testifies to his own experiences in the region. Charley's first adventure, in which he joins a wolf hunt - on a horse that is judged to be as wild as a buffalo - illustrates the sense of movement and excitement that pervades The Young Fur Traders: With his brown curls streaming straight out behind, and his eyes flashing with excitement, his teeth clenched, and his horse tearing along more like an incarnate fiend than an animal - a spirit of combined recklessness, consternation, indignation, and glee, took possession of him. He waved his whip wildly over his head, brought it down with a stinging cut on the horse's neck, and uttered a shout that threw completely into the shade the loudest war-whoop that was ever uttered by the brazen lungs of the wildest savage between Hudson's Bay and Oregon. (Ballantyne, 1856: 43) The prairie, a space in which to gallop, to move but not to stop, is compared to an ocean. In the winter the prairie is "a vast sheet of white ... broken, in one or two places, by a patch or two of willows, which, rising, on the plain, appeared like little islands in a frozen sea" (Ballantyne, 1856: 40). Ballantyne was recycling an old cliche when he compared prairie landscape to the sea (Cooper, for example, used the metaphor several decades earlier^). In another story set on the North American prairie — The Dog Crusoe — he acknowledged that "the prairies have often been compared, most justly, to the ocean. There is the same wide circle of space bounded on all sides by the horizon; there is the same swelling undulation of long low unbroken waves that marks the ocean when it is calm; they are canopied by the same pure sky, and swept by the same untrammeled breezes. There are islands too — clumps of trees and willow-bushes -- which rise out of this grassy ocean..." (Ballantyne, 1861a: 67). While Ballantyne recycles a familiar metaphor in his descriptions of the prairie, he does not zs "The earth was not unlike the Ocean, when its restless waters are heaving heavily after the agitation and fury of the tempest have begun to lessen. There was the same waving and regular surface, the same absence of foreign objects, and the same boundless extent of the view. ... Here and there a tall tree rose out of the bottom stretching its naked branches abroad, like some solitary vessel; and, to strengthen the delusion, far in the utmost distance, appeared two or three rounded thickets, looming in the misty horizon like islands resting on the bosom of the waters" (Cooper, 1964: 13). Cooper had read about the prairie in Lewis and Clark's journal, but he had not seen it (Milham, 1964: v). 80 use the cliche precisely as it was used before. Whereas some writers have used dark and watery seas as symbols of the human unconscious, sea voyages as encounters with the unconscious (Applewhite, 1985), Ballantyne uses the metaphorical sea as a tangible "primitive" space, which the hero responds to physically rather than psychologically. The northwest, Frank Kennedy informed his son, was a "primitive" space, romantically populated with "wild beasts and wild men" (Ballantyne, 1856: 24). Indians feature prominently among the "wild men", although not all Indians are constructed as "bad". In general, there are "good" Indians and "bad" Indians, the former being converted to Christianity, the latter remaining in sufficient numbers to ensure that Indian-related adventures still take place. In The Young Fur Traders the "good" Indian is Redfeather, a Knisteneux brave who has converted to Christianity, and who abandons some of his customs and temporarily leaves his tribe, in order to follow a Wesleyan missionary. The "bad" Indian is Redfeather's lifelong rival, Misconna, whose malicious acts include violently murdering an innocent woman (who turns out to be Jacques Caradoc's wife), setting a trap for Redfeather (by laying a tree across the stream he is navigating), and shooting the Bourgeois (manager) of Stoney Creek HBC post through the heart. Having provided The Young Fur Traders with some of its liveliest action, Misconna falls victim to Ballantyne's version of summary Indian justice. Despite some rather half-hearted protests on his behalf, by the white visitors, Misconna is killed with a tomahawk. "Wild beasts" encountered in The Young Fur Traders include wolves, buffalo and bears, all of which die at the hands of white hunters, but not before they put up a serious fight, endangering the adventurers. Charley's first adventure was a wolf hunt, with his friends from Fort Garry; both he and Harry later learned the skills of buffalo hunting. Harry encountered a bear which, wounded by a first bullet, "rose, shook himself, gave a yell of anger on 8 1 beholding his enemies, and rushed at them," only to be finished off by Jacques' second, well-aimed bullet (Ballantyne, 1856: 238). The wild beasts featured in The Young Fur Traders return, more savagely and violently, in the later North American adventures of Ballantyne and others. In The Dog Crusoe and his Master: a Tale of the Western Prairies Ballantyne (1861a: 79) claims "it is scarcely possible to conceive a wilder or more ferocious and terrible monster than a buffalo bull". In The Wild Man of the West; a Tale of the Rocky Mountains (Ballantyne, 1863a: 59) a grizzly bear is described as "one of the most desperate monsters and most dreaded animals on the face of the earth". The fight with a wounded bear, relatively brief in The Young Fur Traders, is longer and bloodier in many later Victorian stories (including Ballantynes), in which gratuitous violence had become more familiar and more acceptable. W.H.G. Kingston describes the gory death of a wounded and enraged mother bear in Frontier Fort (1879: 76): "Take care, there's a big she-grizzly, with a couple of cubs, in that thicket. I wounded her, and she's very savage". "[The bear's] face and head were now one mass of torn skin and gore, and as his enormous mouth opened, displaying his gleaming teeth, his capacity for mischief seemed as yet undiminished" (Daunt, 1882: 130). The respectable boys' magazine, Chums,  describes one boy's bloody encounter with a wolf: Confronting him, his jaws dribbling foam and blood, its fierce eyes glaring with savage hatred,its bushy tail battering hard at its flanks, was the biggest timber wolf he had ever seen. ... Now, the timber wolf, unlike its smaller and more cowardly brother, the coyote, will not hesitate to attack a man, supposing it to be hungry, and this wolf looked very hungry indeed. It was a giant of its kind, and it sniffed Hal's presence greedily, licking its chops and stealing towards the lad almost imperceptibly. (Guthrie, 1908: 1002) In the first chapter of The Young Fur Traders Charley and Kate have just heard their father's plans for them. Kate is to leave school, to keep house and cut tobacco for her parents, while Charley is to work as a clerk at Fort Garry. Kate is "overjoyed at the thought of being a help and comfort to her old father and mother", while Charley is distraught at the prospect of a sedentary, office-based life (Ballantyne, 1856: 15). So while Kate obeys her father's orders, 82 Charley rebels, and eventually obtains permission to leave Red River and Fort Garry, to work for the HBC in wilder settings. When eventually the siblings part, "[Kate's] tears burst forth with violence" and "the lump in [Charley's] throat all but choked him" (Ballantyne, 1856: 71). Kate remains in the domestic space of the household and the settlement, while Charley enters the seemingly all-male space beyond. The female space of the settlement and the male space of the wilderness (including the HBC forts and outposts), established at the beginning, are reiterated throughout The Young Fur Traders. Louis, a voyageur, once considered giving up the voyageur life, and remaining in the settlement with his wife. But, he recalled, "when I spoke of it to my old woman, she called me an old woman," at which Louis resolved to remain a voyageur (Ballantyne, 1856: 61). Ballantyne's HBC forts are all-male spaces; the men in "Bachelors' Hall", like those around camp fires26, pass the time yarning, bragging about their adventures, and playing rough-and-tumble practical jokes on each other. There is little mention of the women who lived and travelled in the northwest, most of whom were native or Metis. Jacques' wife makes a brief appearance, which ends in her untimely death at the hands of Misconna. Wabisca, a beautiful Indian woman, provides a source of tension between Redfeather and Misconna, both of whom want her hand in marriage. She also makes a brief appearance in a canoe, which gives Redfeather the opportunity to save her life. Like all the women who appear outside the Red River settlement, Wabisca is a marginal and a mostly silent figure. Similarly, but more explicitly, the role of a native woman (Darkeye) in Ballantyne's later ^" "The deep shadows of the woods around you grow deeper and blacker as the flames leap and sparkle upwards, causing the stems of surrounding trees, and the foliage of the overhanging branches, to stand out in bold relief, bathed in a ruddy glow, which converts the forest chamber into a snug home-like place, and fills the mind with agreeable, home-like feelings and meditations. It seems as if the spirit, in the one case, were set loose and etherealised to enable it to spread itself out over the plains of cold, cheerless, illimitable space, and left to dwell on objects too far and wide to grasp, too indistinct to comprehend; -while, on the other, it is recalled and concentrated upon matters circumscribed and congenial..." (Ballantyne, 1856: 246) 83 novel The Pioneers (1872: 33), "consisted chiefly in answering vyes' and "no' when spoken to, and in smiling pleasantly at all times". In The Young Fur Traders, and in general, women are present in the space of adventure merely as a device for the men to reveal their character, to prove their manliness. While a fleeting female presence provides one means by which the male adventurer defines his manliness, a more general female absence provides another. The all-male space of adventure is defined in relation to the more female space of the settlement. Men define themselves and their adventures in relation to the women left behind in the settlement (wives, sisters, mothers), who are physically absent during the adventure itself, but never irrelevant, always at the back of the male adventurer's mind, giving his adventure purpose. (The role of the absent woman in the adventure narrative is discussed, more generally, by Zweig, 1974: 61-80). Through the adventure, the hero defines himself (including his manliness) to, and in relation to, the woman or women he has left behind. By being away most of the year, Louis is able to satisfy his "old woman" that he is a man. By roughing it in the northwest, Harry is able to become a man, to become worthy of Kate, whom he eventually marries. In his own life Ballantyne told stories to absent women, defining himself, or other men, to an unacknowledged female muse. His yarns, despite their masculine style, reminiscent of the camp fire and the "bachelors' hall", were actually recounted in letters to his mother in Scotland. While his mother saved the letters in an embroidered silk wallet, it was a kindly aunt that encouraged Robert to write his first book (a Canadian memoir), and paid for it to be privately published (in 1848), and it was his sisters who marketed the book, ensuring its sale by subscription. Generally speaking, Ballantyne's mother and his sister-in-law were the prime influences on his life as a young writer, while male relatives including his father were marginal and distant figures in Robert's biography (he hardly noticed when his father died, but was devastated by the death of his mother) (Quayle, 1967). And while his stories were 84 addressed and marketed to boys, many of Ballantyne's stories and characters, including Ralph Rover (hero of Coral  Island and The Gorilla Hunters) were invented to entertain the writer's two nieces, Dot and Edith, and were very loosely based on the fictional adventures of their brother, Randal (Quayle, 1967). And, of course, girls and women read Ballantyne stories, although they were not acknowledged as readers. Unacknowledged female readers of "boys' stories" were not incidental to the telling of the masculinist adventure; boys and men knew that "their" stories were being read by women, that "their" masculinity was recognised by girls and women. Absent women are an "other" in relation to which manliness is defined. Adventurers assert that they are not like women. Redfeather was forced to defend his masculine honour when taunted by Misconna, "Has the brave boy's heart changed into that of a girl?" (Ballantyne, 1856: 104). Jacques, addressing Indians with whom he plans to trade, attempts to flatter them: "My Indian brethren are great. They are brave, and their fame has travelled far. Their deeds are known even so far as where the Great Salt Lake beats on the shore where the sun rises. They are not women" (Ballantyne, 1856: 131). Jacques contrasts Charley to less manly fellows who fuss and worry, and are "as tiresome as settlement girls" (Ballantyne, 1856: 151). The absence of women enables Ballantyne to avoid all reference to sex and sexuality, at least while the male heroes are in the wilderness. Sex was never very far from Ballantyne's mind; he suffered, from the time of his return to Scotland, to the end of his life, from feelings of guilt, regarding unspecified sexual "sins" probably committed in Canada (Quayle, 1967; Nelson, 1991). Ballantyne regarded his writing as Christian labour, or, more specifically, as penance for the sexual "sins" of his youth. Despite his preoccupation with sex, Ballantyne banished sexuality from his tales. All-male adventure settings help to avoid the possibility of 85 female heroes becoming masculine, or of male heroes finding opportunities for (heterosexual) 27 sex and/or feelings of (heterosexual) desire and affection. ' Conveniently, the question of the hero's sexuality is avoided, his (hetero)sexual purity is not questioned, and the story remains focussed on a physical (but not sexual) rather than emotional or psychological level. Like Robinson Crusoe and other British adventurers before him, Charley is a seemingly asexual young man; his manliness is defined without reference to his sexuality. The general absence of women in adventure settings does not constitute an absence of femininity. The metaphorical femininity of the landscape presents a feminine "other", against which the hero can define his masculine self. The idea that masculinity is defined in relation to feminine landscape is a familiar one, both in general (Kolodny, 1975; Schaffer, 1988)^° and specifically in relation to adventure (Zweig, 1974, describes the settings of all-male adventure as "darkly feminine"). This is true of The Young Fur Traders, in which allegedly gendered landscape cliches such as "penetrating" new regions, are as common as they are 2Q anywhere in imperial literature. y  But, despite the importance of recognising the female and other feminine "others" that figure in the constitution of a hero's manliness, it should not be supposed that femininity is the only "other" of manliness/masculinity, or that masculinity is fully defined by its difference from a contemporary form of femininity. 7 Homosexuality is never mentioned, even as a possibility, although it was, of course, at least as common in the dominantly-male fur trading communities as anywhere else. *° Annette Kolodny's Lay of the Land (1975) developed the idea of "land as woman". Kay Schaffer's Women  and the Bush (1988) examines ways in which (Australian) femininities have been constructed in terms of metaphorically feminine (bush) landscape, in relation to metaphorically masculine culture and patriarchal society. On gendered spaces of imperialism, more specifically, see Shohat, 1991; Blake, 1990; Chaudhuri and Strobel, 1992; Domosh, 1991; Driver, 1992; Haggis, 1990; Hamalian, 1981; Rose, 1993. 2^ These "allegations", from feminist critics such as Kolodny and Schaffer, are by no means unchallenged, and I am not asserting them as facts, or as singularly correct readings. Terms like "penetration", for example, may be sexual metaphors, but they need not be. There are many forms of penetration, many of which have nothing to do with sexual encounters, literal or metaphorical. 86 The process of becoming manly in The Young Fur Traders is partly one of becoming different from women, but it is also one of becoming like other men. Charley and Harry learn what it means to be manly from the men they encounter in the northwest. Charley encounters voyageurs, some of whom will be his companions and mentors: "They were as fine a set of picturesque manly fellows as one could desire to see. Their mode of life rendered them healthy, hardy, and good humoured, with a strong dash of recklessness — perhaps too much of it — in some of the younger men" (Ballantyne, 1856: 55). While Ballantyne celebrates the muscular physiques and lively spirits of the young voyageurs, he reserves his strongest praise for the "men of middle age — with all the energy, and muscle, and bone of youth, but without its swaggering hilarity - men whose powers and nerves had been tried over and over again amid the stirring scenes of the voyageur's life.... they composed a sterling band, of which every man was a hero" (Ballantyne, 1856: 56). Physique is an important component of the manliness Ballantyne presents to the reader. Louis Peltier, a voyageur, is a particularly fine specimen of the fully developed voyageur: "His arms, in particular, were of herculean mould, with large, swelling veins, and strongly marked muscles" (Ballantyne, 1856: 60). During the adventure, as one writer put it, "puny boys" are transformed into "lusty men" (Saxby, 1921: 157). Adventures are replete with graphic images of lusty manhood (the term "lusty" referring to general physical vigour, not J U Physique was also probably important to the voyageurs themselves, who covered great distances under difficult conditions. I am not suggesting that Ballantyne invented muscular voyageurs, but neither am I suggesting that he merely described what happened to be before him. He described the muscular voyageurs, probably more or less as he saw them, not simply because they were there, but because they served the purposes of his story, and enabled him to articulate a particular conception of manliness. 31 Charles (C.F. Argyll) Saxby, one of Jessie Saxby's two sons who emigrated and settled in the Qu'Appelle valley in the 1880s, before returning to Scotland and writing fifteen books, six of which were set in the Canadian northwest. Jessie Saxby visited Charles in 1888 and again a year later. She was commissioned by the Edinburgh Scotsman to report on the possibilities of female emigration to the northwest (Peel, 1968). 87 term "lusty" referring to general physical vigour, not to sexual appetite, as it sometimes does today). Charley, in a letter to Harry, lists some of the virtues of a rough life. v Roughing it' I certainly have been, inasmuch as I have been living on rough fare, associating with rough men, and sleeping on rough beds under the starry sky; but I assure you, that all this is not half so rough upon the constitution as what they call leading an easy life;  which is simply a life that makes a poor fellow stagnate, body and spirit.... I am thriving on it; growing like a young walrus; eating like a Canadian voyageur, and sleeping like a top. (Ballantyne, 1856: 200-201) Charley's development is so striking that nobody ever seems to recognise him. At first Harry does not recognise the seventeen-year-old he meets near Stoney Creek, who is "tall and stout beyond his years, and deeply sunburnt" (Ballantyne, 1856: 117). And Frank Kennedy does not recognise the man who finally returns to Red River, a man who seems "too big" and even has a "different nose altogether" (Ballantyne, 1856: 268). Charley had developed into a man, physically strong, with a sunburned nose! Ballantyne celebrates the male body, stating, for example, that "It was a thrilling heart-stirring sight to behold these picturesque athletic men" (Ballantyne, 1856: 73); but he does not aestheticise it (although some readers must have); his images are not (intentionally) homoerotic; his vision of manliness is not just a physical one. Charley and Harry learn from the physically manly figures they encounter, but they do not copy them in every respect. Many of the voyageurs, despite their fine bodies, are a little too wild, lacking in the moral character that Charley and Harry must build. Whereas the voyageurs will always "rough it" in the wild northwest, Charley and Harry will return to •" Oxley's Fergus MacTavish (1892), for example, "stood full six feet in his stockings, was broad of shoulder and stout of limb... It was just such boys [the Hudson's Bay Company] greatly desired" (Oxley, 1892: 13). James Macdonald Oxley (1855-1907), born in Nova Scotia, educated in Law, was the writer of boys' stories that were popular in Canada, Britain and the United States (Moyles, 1976: 179). 88 relative civilization when their male rite of passage is complete, when they have become 33 men. But it is not just adventurous fellows like Charley who become manly in the northwest. Harry, confined to a spell of HBC office work at York Factory, meets a "soft", "slender" nineteen-year-old by the name of Hamilton. Hamilton is not particularly keen to rough it, nor is he particularly keen to become manly. But he is given no choice. When he hesitates to accept Harry's "invitation" to join a ten-mile snowshoe tramp in sub-zero temperatures, at night, Harry loses patience with him, and says "Come, man, don't be soft; get ready, and go along with us" (Ballantyne, 1856: 167). Harry is not satisfied until Hamilton gets frostbitten in both feet and hobbles bravely on (figure 3.8). Hamilton's development, during his stay at York Factory, shows that any male, adventurous or not, can become manly. His most dramatic transformation occurs during a two-week journey with Harry, en route to Norway House. Hamilton first proves himself by violently punching an Indian who is cruel to one of the dogs. Harry revises his opinion of Hamilton: "I'm amazed at your pluck, your energy. Soft indeed! we have been most egregiously mistaken" (Ballantyne, 1856: 219). During the arduous journey, Harry and Hammy soon became tired and blistered, but they found that after much painful exertion "their muscles hardened, and their sinews grew tough", and they even began to enjoy the ordeal (Ballantyne, 1856: 221). Hammy may always be a sensitive, gentle sort of man, but life in the northwest has brought out his manly qualities. •" Daunt reflects that "the wilderness is a good school," teaching travellers and hunters self-reliance, courage and other desirable qualities: "It sharpens the perceptions, strengthens both mind and body, and ... leads the mind to the Almighty by the contemplation of his works" (Daunt, 1882: 62). 89 Figure 3.8 Snowflakes  and Sunbeams (1856): Hammy on snow shoes. Mild-mannered Hammy suffers frost bite and exhaustion, much to the amusement of his companions, who are concerned mainly that Hammy conforms with prevailing philosophies of masculinity, and behaves "like a man". Compare the original, artless but painstakingly-realistic illustration with the brighter, glossier, less-detailed picture of the same event (figure 3.3), as illustrated in the frontispiece of the 1925 Blackie edition. ONE O F TH E EVIL S O F SNOW-SHO E WALKING . Vaec 2:iX. 90 As Charley, Harry and Hammy pass through the spaces of adventure, they pass from white Victorian boyhood into a white Victorian manhood, which can best be labelled as a form of "Christian manliness". This philosophy of Christian manliness, which permeates all Ballantyne's adventures, is stated most explicitly in another story, The  Gorilla Hunters: [Boys] ought to practice leaping off heights into deep water. They ought never to hesitate to cross a stream on a narrow unsafe plank for fear of a ducking. They ought never to decline to climb up a tree to pull off fruit, merely because there is a possibility of their falling off and breaking their necks. I firmly believe that boys were intended to encounter all kinds of risks in order to prepare them to meet and grapple with the risks and dangers incident to a man's career with cool, cautious self-possession, a self-possession founded on experimental knowledge of the character and powers of their own spirits and muscles, (cited by Quayle, 1967: 148) It is this unity between spirits and muscles that characterises the mid-century notion of Christian manliness. In Tom Brown's School  Days, the muscular Christian is surrounded by other boys and men, other forms of manliness. Muscular Christians, in adventure stories by Christian writers like Ballantyne, present more singular, caricatured images of manliness. Ballantyne uses Hamilton to show that any boy, whether he is naturally adventurous or not, can become a muscular Christian. Again, this philosophy is stated more explicitly in The Gorilla Hunters. Ralph Rover reflects that "muffs" — boys who are "mild, diffident and gentle", "timid and unenthusiastic", "disinclined to try bold things" — will not grow up to be effective men, able to defend their wives from insult or their children from danger. Muffs, he insists, must become men: Let muffs, therefore,learn to swim, to leap, and to run. Let them wrestle with boys bigger than themselves, regardless of being thrown. Let them practice v jinking' with their companions, so that if ever they be chased by a mad bull, they will, if unable to get out of his way by running, escape perhaps by jinking. Let them leap off considerable heights into deep water... (Ballantyne, cited by Quayle, 1967: 149) Conscious of the caricatured manliness he had defined, one mid-century writer of adventure stories — Captain Mayne Reid - made the excuse that he was writing for boys: "In the endeavour to interest the juvenile intellect, it is necessary to deal with physical rather than 91 moral facts. ... Show and style have been sacrificed upon the altar of simplicity" (Reid, 1853: vi). But juvenile audiences did not force so much as excuse caricatured images of muscular Christian manliness, images which were, after all, consumed by adult as well as juvenile readers, as well as by those (youths) who also liked Dickens, Scott and other relatively complex authors. The simplified, caricatured manliness of adventure heroes was not transplanted from the playing fields of England — the quasi-domestic settings of school stories ~ to the wilder spaces of adventure. As a setting of adventure stories, the northwest may not resemble the geography of that region (as it is conventionally defined today), but as a setting it has a specific function, serving a purpose that school and other typically quasi-domestic British settings could not serve (although Ballantyne did find British settings for adventure stories, including the tough, all-male settings of the railways, the fire brigade, the lifeboat crews and the tin mines). But while one might have adventures and become (what Ballantyne regarded as) manly in Britain, one was more likely to do so overseas, in spaces of adventure. Whereas Christian manliness was a possibility in Britain, it was a certainty in Canada, as Tom Selby, the young man in Edward Roper's By Track and Trail (1891), explained. 1^ am determined not to go back to England, to be a drudge in an office, in a bank, or something of that sort, the very thought of which disgusts me. Just think of what most of those fellows are at home; they spend one half of their lives at a desk, the other half fadding about their dress or their appearance. Why, they are mostly as soft as girls, and know nothing but about dancing, and theatres, and music-hall singers.' vOh, come, come!' I interrupted him, "it's not quite as bad as that. There are plenty of young fellows at home just as manly as you can desire, cricketing, rowing, cycling, volunteering, playing tennis. ... You can't find in the wide world such a number of fine, healthy, athletic men, as in England. That's acknowledged by everyone.' v Well, perhaps, that may be true enough; but there are far too many, and the better-off ones, too, who just disgust me, and I will not go back and run the slightest chance of becoming one of them.' (Roper, 1891: 116) British stories and characters are not transplanted from domestic British settings into the space of adventure. Rather, adventure heroes were constituted in the course of their 92 adventures, in the spaces of their adventure. The simplified — open, all-male, vaguely dangerous — setting of adventure stories like The Young Fur Traders makes this construction of manliness seem possible and plausible. Gendered Narratives, Gendered Spaces, Gendered Subjects In The Young Fur Traders, particularly in the figure of Charley, Ballantyne articulated an ideology of manliness. Charley is boyish, enjoying every minute of his adventure, but taking it seriously enough to learn, to become manly. He displays energy, courage and physical strength. He is loyal to his friends and hostile to his enemies. He is emotionally uncomplicated, and either sexually innocent or just not very sexual. He is light-hearted, idealistic and anti-intellectual. Compared to most earlier boy heroes, Charley is a very "muscular Christian". Figuratively, he stands for a simple, singular ideology of manliness. In this chapter I have interpreted The Young Fur Traders as a gendered narrative, the story of a manly boy in an all-male but "feminine" space. I have focussed upon the narrative, and only hinted at its possible relationships with "real" gendered subjects and "real" gendered spaces. But my interest in adventure stories, as gendered narratives, is partly rooted in the assumption that they map onto "real" gendered subjects and "real" gendered spaces. As one boys' magazine reader recently reflected, "boys' comics, in particular, played a small but significant part in the ideological construction of my masculinity" (Jackson, 1990: 223). But, while there is almost certainly some relationship between gendered narratives and gendered subjects, the nature of this relationship is complex, and can only be hinted at in this chapter. Boys' adventure stories were explicitly addressed to boys, sometimes to "boy-men" (Reid, 1853: 12), and they appear to present (male) readers with literal images of manliness (and boyishness) that they might emulate. But to assume that, as one contemporary critic put it, "the dramatispersonae of a story become living entities," would be to oversimplify the 93 relation between boy readers and boys' stories, and to ignore all other readers (Salmon, 1888: 209). The only known cases of dramatis personae becoming real entities were the authors themselves: Bracebridge Hemyng assumed the identity of Jack Harkaway, while Ballantyne was widely known as "the brave Mr Ballantyne," and Henty presented himself as a role model for boy-men (Turner, 1957: 75; Quayle, 1967: 103-4; Reynolds, 1990: 69). The relation between heroes and readers, never simple, is most ambiguous where readers are not juvenile males. Manliness and masculinity are not just about boys and men. Distinctions between masculinity, manliness and maleness underline the differences between (re)negotiating masculinity and men (re)negotiating their gender, placing the politics of (re)negotiating masculinity in a wider arena than that suggested by the men's movement and/or men's studies alone. The changing relationships between Victorian masculinities and Victorian manliness suggest that while masculinities are historical, so are the relationships between masculinities and men (and women). * (And women), that is, because masculinity is not the preserve of males, although constructions of masculinity, when depicted figuratively, are usually symbolised by boys and men rather than girls and women. •** Roper and Tosh (1991: 8) argue that "Gay liberation, the men's movement and feminism all concur in affirming the social and cultural construction of masculinity, yet this tenet cannot be endlessly proclaimed without some solid demonstration of it in empirical work in time perspective." Related studies on historical constructions and cultural politics of masculinity include Brod, 1987; Carnes and Griffen, 1990; Dawson, 1991; Formaini, 1990; Hearn and Morgan, 1990; Jackson, 1990; Jackson, 1991; Kaufman, 1987; Manganand Walvin, 1987; Mort, 1988; Pleck and Sawyer, 1980; Seidler, 1989. • " This (re)negotiation of masculinity — including the masculinity of gendered subjects and gendered landscapes — may take place in many cultural spheres including adventure and other landscape narratives. 94 CHAPTER FOUR ADVENTURE STORIES AND IMPERIAL DREAMS: THE AUSTRALIAN INTERIOR IN ERNEST FAVENC S EXPLORER STORIES Adventures not only appropriated metaphorical spaces, mapping European identities in non-European settings, they also appropriated material spaces, mapping and making European colonies in the non-European world. Adventures mapped colonial spaces at a range of geographic levels, from the generic {Robinson Crusoe,  for example) to the particular. In specific colomal contexts adventures constructed space in which colonisation could take place, and sometimes mapped the course of that colonisation. The writing and reading of adventure stories, both in Europe and in the colony itself, was part of the process of (ideological and material) colonisation. In Victorian Australia, for example, the adventure stories of Ernest Favenc mapped a particular colonial geography, constructed a space in which colonisation could take place. Australia provides an interesting context in which to explore the production of terra incognita, malleable territory accommodating to varied colonial imaginations (Gibson, 1984). I select Favenc for detailed contextual reading because of his prominence as a popular adventure writer in contemporary Australia, and because of his interestingly-integrated career as a geographer, historian, colonist and writer of adventure/mysteries. Children's stories about Australian explorers, published in the late Victorian and Edwardian periods, mapped central Australia as a space of adventure and mystery. Whereas conventional histories of Australian inland exploration such as Ernest Favenc !s History of Australian Exploration (1888) tended to define tangible places in which to imagine settlement and colonisation, juvenile exploration stories, like Favenc's The Secret of the Australian Desert (1896) (figure 4.1), mapped unsettling terrae incognitae, spaces in which to imagine 95 Figure 4.1 The  Secret of the Australian Desert (1896): front cover showing naked cannibal with mysterious body markings (red smear and white triangle), holding an unidentified sheet of paper, perhaps a page from the dead explorer's journal. CH^T I) 96 an Australian nation. Reading and writing these adventure stories in Australia was part of the process of colonising the Australian continent. Colonists Reading Adventures Reading adventure stories in British colonies was part of the process of mapping and making British colonies. While Britons read stories set in various parts of the British Empire, participating in the imaginative mapping of that Empire, British imperial culture was not confined to the shores of Britain. British books, newspapers and magazines were distributed (by publishers and private correspondents), purchased and read throughout the empire, and to some extent beyond it. In settler societies, including Canada and Australia, literacy rates among British settlers were generally at least as high as in Britain. At the turn of the century ninety-five per cent of adult Australians could read and write, and Australia could be described as "a reading-oriented society" (Lyons and Taksa, 1992). Readers in rural areas of Australian and Canada found it difficult to obtain reading material, although many of them were still avid readers. In Canada, pioneers brought books with them (on average, twenty to thirty per family, according to Tulloch, 1959), and they received books by post, mainly from friends and relatives, but also from organisations such as the Lady Aberdeen Society, which provided reading material to people in isolated areas in the 1890s. They also borrowed books, mostly from each other, as the first public (peripatetic) libraries were not opened until around 1915 (Mein, 1985). Most of what colonial Australians and Canadians read was published in Britain. Prominent among British-produced books and magazines were adventure stories, which were as popular in British colonies and dominions as they were in Britain itself. A survey of reading among Canadian pioneers identified the popularity of British adventure story writers such as Stevenson and Henty (Tulloch, 1959: 98). And a recent oral history (Lyons and Taksa, 1992) 97 confirms the popularity of British adventure books and magazines in colonial Australia. Among the most popular books and magazines were Robinson Crusoe  and Treasure Island, and The Boy's Own Paper, respectively. A catalogue of juvenile literature (Angus and Robertson junior book club catalogue) published in Sydney in 1907 listed many of the same titles that were popular in contemporary Britain, including sixty Ballantynes, fifty five Hentys and forty one Kingstons (Lyons and Taksa, 1992: 8, 94). But colonials did not just read purely British literary products. In some cases there was colonial input in the "British" stories. Some British-born writers travelled, worked or lived for a time in the places where they set their stories, which were generally published in Britain. For example, Ballantyne worked for five years in Canada, where he gathered material for the stories (including thirteen books) he wrote later in life, set in Canada but written and published in Edinburgh. John Mackie, whose stories include The Heart of the Prairie (1901) (set in western Canada) and The Lost Explorer (1912) (set in Australia), had been a mounted police officer in Canada and a mineral prospector in Australia. Ernest Favene, the most prolific writer of Australian explorer stories in the late-nineteenth century, was a British colonist who lived in Queensland and New South Wales and who wrote for publishers and readers in Australia and Britain. The boundaries between British and Australian colonial literature are straddled by "Australiana", cultural products with Australian content that are not always recognised or claimed in Australian literary histories as Australian literature (e.g. Hergenhan, 1988). But, whether they are labelled British, Australiana or 98 Australian, colonial cultural products such as adventure stories that represented Australia generally incorporated a mixture of British and Australian content. In many cases, colonial cultural producers followed established British traditions and styles, sometimes adding local content. "High" colonial arts, including painting and poetry, were often reminiscent of their British counterparts (although, by contemporary critical standards, they were generally less accomplished). And adventure stories set and/or written in British colonies were often retellings of earlier British narratives, with local settings, and some local characters (such as explorers and bush rangers). For example, Catharine Parr Trail's Canadian Crusoes  (1852) was a Canadian version of the Robinson Crusoe  story (chapter two), while Ernest Favenc's The Secret of the Australian Desert (1896) was essentially an Australian version of H. Rider Haggard's African adventure, King Solomon's Mines (1870) (Cathcart and Martin, undated). Like many fictional and non-fictional accounts of imperial geography and history, these stories (by Trail and Favenc) were published in London, and read in Britain and throughout the empire. They brought colonial geographies within an established imaginative framework, imaginatively colonising them. Exploration Stories Retold In Victorian and Edwardian Australia, explorer stories were endlessly told and retold, in almost every conceivable media. Expeditions were narrated in explorers' journals and formal histories, but also in many areas of colonial popular and "high" culture, including paintings *• Similarly, the boundaries between British and Canadian colonial literature are straddled by "Canadiana", cultural products with Canadian content that are not always recognised or claimed (in Canadian literary histories) as Canadian literature (e.g. Harrison, 1977). But, whether they are labelled British, Canadiana or Canadian, colonial cultural products, such as adventure stories, that represented Canada incorporated a mixture of British and Canadian content. By Australian/Canadian "content" I refer to images and ideas specific to Australian/Canadian people and places, and/or to input from people (such as travellers and settlers) and/or organisations (such as publishers and publications) in Australia/Canada. 99 and poems, monuments and magazines, vaudeville theatre and cheap souvenirs. The Burke and Wills expedition, for example, was narrated "in pamphlets, books, music and medallions, lavish mezzotints and oil paintings, pantomimes, waxworks and dioramas, and even vBurke Exploring Hats', children's plates depicting the explorers' return to Cooper's Creek, and a new perfume the Melbourne chemists, Sayce and Co., named after Burke and Wills.... Through 1862 into 1863, rarely a week passed without the appearance of a new article, book, lecture, painting or sculpture concerning the expedition" (Bonyhady, 1991: 188). Prominent among histories and stories of exploration were adventure stories, including juvenile fictions. In particular, adventure stories were written about the wreck of the Batavia in 1629 (for example, Favenc, 1896b; see Cowley, 1988), the death of Burke in 1861 (Berry, 1916) and the disappearance of Leichhardt in 1848 (Favenc, 1896; Mackie, 1912).3 If Australians continued to be fascinated by stories about explorers, perhaps it was because they shared the explorers' interest in what lay between their colonies, in the Australian z In From Melbourne to Myth Tim Bonyhady explores the representation and meaning of the Burke and Wills expedition in colonial Australia. "For more than forty years after their memorials were completed in Ballarat and the Melbourne Cemetery, Burke and Wills retained a central place in Australian culture. Regardless of whether the explorers' contemporaries esteemed or ridiculed them, they at least knew something of their story. For several years, the expedition was probably the most famous episode in Australian history. Even outside Victoria, Burke and Wills remained Australia's best known explorers. They continued to be celebrated in high art - particularly in verse but also in paintings. Then-place in the classroom was secure. Although less prominent than in the early 1860s, they retained a place in popular culture. The waxworks displayed them for well over a decade. In the 1880s and 1890s, the illustrated press regularly described their achievements, accompanied by engravings, then by photographs. In the years leading up to World War I, Burke and Wills even had their own day in Melbourne as the anniversary of their departure became the subject of annual commemorations" (Bonyhady, 1991: 273). 3 Ludwig Leichhardt, who had successfully explored parts of north-eastern Australia on two expeditions in the mid-1840s, set out in 1848 to cross the continent from east to west, but disappeared without a trace. Leichhardt was acclaimed by many Australians as the "prince of explorers" after his first, successful expedition. In 1860-61 Robert O'Hara Burke and William John Wills attempted to cross from Melbourne to north Australia, but died on the return journey, along with many of their party. 1 0 0 continental interior. Until the middle of the nineteenth century most Australian colonists had lived in pockets of concentrated and, by contemporary standards, highly urbanised settlement along the coast, metaphorical islands separated by oceans of unknown space in a massive Australian archipelago. "If they stepped outside" their little colonies "they were lost" (Moorehead, 1963: 10). As one popular historian has put it, "the excitement of venturing into the unknown... was never absent from the public imagination in Australia's "Furious Fifties'" (Clune, 1937:4). It was a perennial irritating intellectual problem: simply, what was there, at the heart of the continent, in the "ghastly blank' in the centre? ... it was a popular problem, understood to some extent by everyone, because in a sense it was so simple. The geographical problem was central in the Australian imagination for nearly half our history and aroused passionate popular interest. The long drawn-out drama of Burke and Wills, with its intense mass public involvement in Victoria, is one example; similarly, controversy about what happened to Leichhardt and his ability as an explorer went on and on through the later nineteenth-century (Serle, 1973: 7). Between the time of Leichhardt's disappearance (1848) and the end of the nineteenth century vast regions of the Australian continent were colonised. Explorers, overlanders and other travellers forged land connections between the colonies, and by the early 1890s most of the potentially useable land in Victoria, New South Wales and Queensland, was explored and taken up, usually by cattle ranchers (such as Favenc) then sheep ranchers (figure 4.2). But, as late as the 1880s and 1890s the Australian interior remained, both physically and imaginatively, a largely "unknown" and "debatable" landscape (in British-Australian 5 Camm and McQuilton (1988: 102) note that "since the first European settlements, a high proportion of Europeans have lived in "urban centres' (towns with 1000 people or more), particularly in the capitals". By 1861, over two-fifths of the European population lived in urban areas, and this proportion rose to over half in 1881 and over three-quarters in 1947. 1 0 1 geographical imaginations). Inland colonisation was rapid, but it was also hit-and-miss. South Australians colonised large areas to the north of their existing settlement, only to be pushed back by the drought of 1880-84 (Meinig, 1962). Squatters in Queensland and New South Wales helped increase Australia's sheep and cattle populations to 106 million and 12 million respectively in 1891, but they too encountered drought, which reduced their stock levels by a half between 1895 and 1902. Setbacks in some areas were matched by advances in others. For example, dramatic progress was made in wheat production, which increased ten fold in the last four decades of the century, and in artesian water production, which peaked in 1900. As colonists rushed into Australia's continental interior, there was a great deal of uncertainty about what that land was, and what it could be. Some people believed the continent could support from one to five hundred million people in the future, while others thought it was a desert, and would always be a desert. Some (such as Henry Lawson) found the interior monotonous and ugly, while others (notably A.G. Stephens) claimed to see beauty in it (Barnes, 1986). The Australian interior, a complete mystery to most white Australians in the middle of the century, was still something of a mystery as the end of the century approached. Perhaps that was why stories of explorers who entered the mysterious interior continued to fascinate Australians. No explorers fascinated them more than Leichhardt and Burke7, who died en route. Also celebrated were Shirt and Eyre, who " Landscape is surely always "debatable", open to multiple interpretations and readings, but in Victorian Australia this was unusually overt. 7 Contemporary poets including F.Sesca Lewin and D.Cudmore "established the importance of two explorers in particular, Leichhardt and Burke" (Sellick, 1977). 102 returned with no useful discoveries to report, only stories of daring and suffering. But these tragic figures, although most frequently celebrated as national heroes, were an awkward presence or a conspicuous absence in more conventional exploration histories, such as Favenc's History of Australian Exploration. Colonists Writing Adventures: Ernest Favenc The imperial career of Ernest Favenc illustrates the point that writing adventure stories in British colonies was part of the process of mapping and making those colonies. Favenc emigrated from Britain to Australia in his early twenties. Once there he worked on a remote Queensland cattle station, participated in brutal aboriginal "dispersals", was involved in mineral prospecting, and tried his luck as an explorer. Favenc's biography reads like an imperial adventure story. He repeatedly strikes out into the unknown and battles on, fighting off hostile natives and enduring terrible drought, before returning to civilised society and telling his story. All "great adventurers", it is said, "have not only been great doers, they have been great talkers" (Zweig, 1974: 81). Favenc was both a doer and a talker, although he was more prolific and successful as a talker, a teller of tales. He loved exploration and he worshipped the "great" Australian explorers, but he was born too late to stand much chance of being a "great" explorer himself. He arrived in Australia in 1863, just after Burke and ° In 1841 Edward John Eyre made the first successful east-west crossing, along the coast of the Great Australian Bight. In 1844 Sturt explored the area of desert and salt lakes north of Adelaide. "Sturt won acclaim for his Central Australian Expedition even though he did not reach his goal, found no land of value, and privately viewed his journey as a failure, while Eyre was applauded despite travelling an entirely different route to that expected. By his own account, he returned to Adelaide with vno important news to enumerate, no fertile regions to point out for the future spread of colonization and civilization1. At a public dinner in his honour, he admitted to the "unsatisfactory' results of his expedition. Like Sturt, additions to geographical knowledge were all he could claim. Still he was celebrated for his achievements." (Bonyhady, 1991: 197). 9 As Frost(1983) has observed in her biography of Favenc, there are many parallels between Favenc's life and an adventure story. 103 Wills had perished, and fifteen years after Leichhardt had gone missing. European Australians seemed to be exploring the continent's few remaining terrae incognitae, and the age of heroic inland exploration was drawing to a close. Favenc's career as an explorer, first as an amateur, later as a professional (he was commissioned to explore the route for a proposed railway in Queensland), was short and not very successful; as an explorer, he was never to win much fame or recognition. For the most part he had to content himself with (re)telling and reworking the stories of other explorers, generally the explorers of a bygone age. So he settled down in Sydney to write, mostly about Australian exploration. Favenc's explorer-related works range from relatively formal histories and geographies to poetry and adventure/mystery stories. His most famous work remains The History of Australian Exploration from 1788 to 1888 (1888), which was published in British Australia's centennial year, and was regarded as the definitive history of Australian exploration for around half a century (Frost, 1983: 39). Many of the sentiments and themes of The History -its British-Australian patriotism, its emphasis on adventurous but sober exploration, its preoccupation with the interior — are seen in Favenc's other works. These include the non-fiction histories, The Explorers of Australia and Their Life Work (1908) and The Great Austral Plain, its Past, Present and Future (1891); and the non-fiction geographies, The New Standard Geography of Australasia (1898) and The Geographical Development of Australia (1902), a school textbook. Favenc also wrote juvenile adventure stories set in and around Australia, including many short stories, and three full-length novels, The Secret of the Australian Desert (1896), The Moccasins of Silence (1896a) and the explicitly-titled Marooned on Australia; the Narrative ofDiedrich Buys of his Discoveries and Exploits in Terra Australis Incognita about the Year 1630 (1896b). 1 0 4 Figure 4.2 Pastoral expansion in Australia (source: Camm and McQuilton, 1988: 62). Pastoralists encroached into most of the south-eastern area known as the "fertile crescent" by the middle of the nineteenth century, then colonised the much larger areas of interior Queensland, New South Wales and South Australia before the end of the century. Pastoral occupation Aroas occupied for pastoral use K? i Mount Garc t fe. • VICTORIA r  ' K < ^ % & &&% 105 Favenc explained that "the interior of the continent of Australia... was, for nearly two thirds of a century, a most attractive lure to men of adventurous character" (Favenc, 1896: iii). Perhaps, by the 1890s, the interior was no longer a lure to men of adventurous character but it remained a lure to readers of adventurous explorer stories. Beginning With a Blank Chart: Favenc's History Favenc's History chronicled the early stages of Australian inland exploration and colonialism, but it did not tell the exploration stories that most fascinated Australians. Published in the year of British Australia's centenary, The  History of Australian Exploration was a definitive, formal, official, colonial history. Favenc dedicated it to the premier of New South Wales, "the mother colony, from whence first started those explorations, by land and sea, which have resulted in throwing open to the nations of the world a new continent" (Favenc, 1888: ii). Quite explicitly, The  History was a series of stories about the exploration and colonisation of the Australian continent. It chronicled the first phase of British-Australian inland exploration and colonisation, when colonists explored regions in which to extend their colonies. 1 0 6 The literary models1" followed by Favenc in The History were mostly supplied by early nineteenth-century Australian exploration journals, such as those of Oxley and Mitchell.11 Oxley and Mitchell, in turn, were indebted to inland exploration narratives such as Nicholas Biddle's account of the Lewis and Clark expedition (in North America)1^ and to the conventions of quest exploration writing more generally. Very generally, quest exploration narratives begin with a hero who has a specific goal in mind, the theme or purpose of his journey. J  It may be to discover a pass through mountains, for example, or to find the source of a river. The hero encounters and surmounts dangers and hardships in his single-minded pursuit of this goal. Favenc's History  is written in this way, essentially as a series of quest exploration adventure stories in which explorers go out into "unknown lands" where they face "hardship and danger" and display "courage and fortitude", before successfully attaining their goal(s) (Favenc, 1888: vi). The charm of romance and adventure surrounding the discovery of hitherto unknown lands has from the earliest ages been the lure that has tempted men to prosecute voyages and travels of exploration. Whether under the pretext of science, religion or conquest, hardship and danger have alike been undergone with fortitude and cheerfulness, in the hope of being the first to find things 1 0 Writers of exploration narratives, as of all adventure narratives, follow literary models, whether they do so self-consciously or not. Exploration narratives are never mere "documents" or "chronicles" of the past. Some exploration narratives - original, edited and/or retold ~ have been acclaimed as literary works, read by students of literature, and included in literary histories (Davey, 1979; Hodgson, 1967; Knox-Shaw, 1987; McLaren, 1989). Maclulich (1979: 83), after Northrop Frye and Hayden White, argues that the writer of an exploration narrative "chooses the form of his story from within a restricted set of literary strategies, and he shapes his narrative throughout in conformity with the underlying thematic concerns entailed by his chosen way of understanding [the] travels". 1 1 Early nineteenth-century explorers John Oxley, Charles Start and Thomas Mitchell all set out from Bathurst, New South Wales, and explored the tributaries of the Darling. ** Biddle represented exploration as an heroic endeavour, an imperial quest in which "the explorer-hero is a harbinger of civilization, and his journey precedes the course of empire in the new world" (Dixon, 1986). *3 The male pronoun applies because the role of the explorer, in practical exploration and also in the literature of exploration, was not generally open to women. 107 strange and new, and return to civilized communities with the tidings. (Favenc, 1888: 17) Because The  History is a series of quest exploration narratives, in which adventurous explorers return with colonial "tidings", it emphasises the Australian explorers who found both adventure and something useful. These were mainly early nineteenth-century explorers, including George William Evans, the first European to cross the Blue Mountains (1813), and John Oxley, Charles Sturt and Thomas Mitchell, who explored further inland. Other explorers, who did not fit Favenc's narrative, were sometimes forced into it, made to seem more heroic than they really were, and/or made to seem more successful. Favenc retold the stories of explorers who seemed to have returned without "tidings", to suggest that they had really traversed useful and habitable lands. In some cases, he explained, they thought they saw deserts and uninhabitable lands because they were tired and ill, or because they travelled during a drought. While they did not always realise it themselves, they had opened up new areas to European colonists. When [Sturt] speaks of the awful temperature that rendered life unbearable, and the inland slopes of Australia unfitted for human habitation, it must be recalled that the party were weak and suffering, liable to feel oppressive heat or extreme cold, more keenly than strong and healthy men. In the ranges where Sturt spend his summer months of detention, there is now one of the wonderful mining townships of Australia, where men toil as laboriously as in a temperate zone, and the fires of the battery and the smelting furnace burn steadily... (Favenc, 1888: 141) Warburton's expedition led to the western half of the continent being condemned as a hopeless desert. He no doubt got into a narrow strip of barren country, and being so occupied in pressing straight through, devoted no time to examination of country on either side. (Favenc, 1888: 396) In this way, Favenc retold many of Australia's well known explorer stories as heroic quests, within the broad outlines of a history of progressive colonisation. Some explorer stories, however, simply could not be told as heroic quests, and these were left out of The  History. Some explorers were not adventurous enough. In a preface, Favenc 108 explained that he was more interested in telling lively, heroic stories than in sticking to all the historical facts, some of which would make dull reading. This meant excluding some of Australia's private travellers, such as squatters and overlanders, who did "the bulk of the detail work". The stories of private travellers "would inevitably, from the nature of the subject, prove most monotonous reading, and fill, I am afraid to think, how many volumes" (Favenc, 1888: v). "A complete history of the exploration of Australia will never be written. The story of the settlement of our continent is necessarily so mixed with the results of private travels and adventures, that all the historian can do is to follow the career of public expeditions, and those of private origin which extended to such a distance, and embraced such important discoveries, as to render the results matters of national history" (Favenc, 1888: v). Others excluded from Favenc's History include aborigines and women travellers. Those accustomed to received contemporary histories of exploration, and of the British empire in general, will not be surprised by Favenc's exclusion of private travellers, aborigines and women, but they may be intrigued by his exclusion of a number of male explorers. In particular, Favenc dismissed some of the expeditions of Eyre, Burke and Leichhardt, Australia's most famous tragic explorers. He explained that they did not belong in The History because their quests did not include both adventure and discovery. Leichhardt's first expedition involved discovery but not adventure. It was fruitful in a colonial sense, "opening such a large area of well-watered country" (Favenc, 1888: 154), but it was not particularly heroic. "Compared with the obstacles that beset Sturt, Eyre, and Mitchell," he observes, "the footsteps of the explorers had been through a garden of Eden" 1 4 MacLulich (1979: 74) defines tragic exploration narratives as follows: "When an explorer tells a story of disaster or near-disaster, his account may be aptly termed an ordeal. The action of an ordeal will focus on the attempts of the exploring party to ensure their survival, and the thematic focus will fall on the human capacity to endure privation. ... The climax of the account will be the eventual rescue or escape itself - or the final scene of disaster". 1 0 9 (Favenc, 1888: 155). Thus Favenc virtually dismissed the expedition for which its leader was named, by many of his fellow Australians, the "prince of explorers". Other expeditions,including the fatal journeys of Leichhardt and Burke, and the arduous journey of Eyre, were excluded because they involved adventure without discovery. As "exploration gave way to exploit", as it did in Australian exploration in the second half of the nineteenth-century (Fitzpatrick, 1958), there were no longer concrete "discoveries", only tales of hardship and privation, of survival in harsh territory (Sellick, 1981). Favenc condemned Australia's most tragic explorers, who suffered in the desert, as foolhardy, impractical men who were consumed by their self-indulgent love of adventure, and had lost sight of their original practical and/or scientific purposes. Burke, for example, was too brave: "one cannot help being struck by the exaggerated and misplaced stress laid upon the reputation Burke possessed for personal bravery" (Favenc, 1888: 210). Favenc concluded that "the results of [Burke's] journey are most barren", not because of barren country, but because of incompetent leadership (Favenc, 1888: 212). Burke "travelled through a country that is now a vast sheep and cattle walk; and frittered away his magnificent resources, wantonly sacrificing his own life and those of his men" (Favenc, 1888: 208). Like Burke, Eyre was courageous, self-indulgently so. "Had [Eyre] had any object in view beyond being the first white man to cross the desert between the two colonies, his actions might have been excusable, but as it was, his trip was bound to be profitless and resultless" (Favenc, 1888: 132). "As for any knowledge of the interior that was gained, of course, there was none, even the conjectures of a wom-out, starving man, picking his way painfully around the sea shore, would have scarcely been of much value" (Favenc, 1888: 136). Although he dismissed them in The History, Favenc acknowledged that Burke and Leichhardt had caught Australian imaginations, and had some part in Australian history. Burke, he observed, was "elevated into a hero" (Favenc, 1888: 208), while Leichhardt's disappearance 1 1 0 was "one of the strangest mysteries of our mysterious interior" (Favenc, 1888: 166). Burke and Leichhardt were the raw material for a different kind of imperial history. Writing this history, Favenc turned to freer language, to write freer histories and geographies. He wrote romances based on "historical fact", in which he "took liberties with history" and enjoyed "some freedom with chronology". Favenc used adventure stories as a way of exploring the ambiguities and mysteries of lost explorers and unknown landscapes. He described "the more romantic incidents of the past" in non fictions such as In The Story of Our Continent Told With Brush and Pen (1891) and in fictions such as The Secret of the Australian Desert. Imagining a Blank Chart: Favenc's Secret In The Secret of the Australian Desert Favenc takes up where he left off in The History of Australian Exploration, reworking the story of Leichhardt's final expedition and his mysterious disappearance, and charting the mysterious geography of central Australia. The Secret of the Australian Desert, first published by Blackie in London in 1896 (preface signed at Sydney, September 1894), and followed by new editions in 1910 and 1917, was Favenc's first full-length novel. It was marketed and received as a boys' story. A typical reviewer wrote that The Secret of the Australian Desert is "brimful of stirring incident and adventure.... For man or boy, this book should have a peculiar attraction" (The Schoolmaster, cited by Favenc, 1896b: ii). The Secret of the Australian Desert was one of a number of Victorian and Edwardian adventure stories based on the disappearance of Leichhardt, one of "the great mysteries of Australian exploration" (Favenc, 1986: iv). Similar adventures, about lost explorers (and lost 15 Favenc hoped, "however, that in a romance these inaccuracies will be pardoned" (Favenc, 1896b: vi). i l l Figure 4.3 The  Secret of the Australian Desert (1896: 95) the death of Leichhardt. Favenc's heroes solve the Leichhardt mystery, although they find that Leichhardt was a somewhat mystical figure, who hallucinated and uttered strange phrases as he lay dying in the desert. Wmm ?WiiSll •111 mmm* m l l l l • pBiii i w ^ ^ i ^ ^ ^ ^ Hi 112 civilisations), were written by John Mackie and Alexander Macdonald.10 Mackie explained, in the preface to A Bush Mystery; or, The  Lost Explorer  (1912: v): About sixty years ago the great Australian explorer, Dr. Ludwig Leichardt [sic], with a party of eight, all told, started to cross Australia from east to west. None of the party ever returned. No traces of them have been found to this day. ... I offer the main lines of this story as a possible elucidation of the mystery surrounding the great explorer's fate. The boy hero of Mackie's tale accepts his uncle's invitation to join a party travelling to Burketown and the Carpentarian Gulf, then inland, ostensibly to take up new grazing land. He excitedly prepares for adventure in a space defined, as far as he is concerned, by past explorer/adventurers. "I was in the seventh heaven of delight at hearing all this. To visit that fascinating, mysterious Never-Never Land which Burke and Wills, and Leichardt [sic], and Gregory had partly traversed at intervals - to see for myself the great forests, the uncanny rivers that only ran at certain periods, and sometimes then only under their own beds, the fantastic mountains which showed what things were like in the Beginning, the great plains which after wet seasons had been mistaken by explorers for inland seas - all these things surely constituted Romance itself." (Mackie, 1912: 6). In Mackie's Bush Mystery, as in Macdonald's Lost Explorers (1907) and Favenc's Secret  of the Australian Desert,  a journey in mysterious space, vaguely defined by lost explorers, leads a party of contemporary adventurers into the Australian interior, where they unravel some old mysteries and have some new adventures. The Secret can also be located within a wider tradition of British adventure stories about explorers. Explorers were a favorite topic of many British adventure story writers and readers. Many of the most popular Victorian adventure story tellers turned to explorer themes. Writers such as W.H.G. Kingston and R.M. Ballantyne, who retold contemporary exploration stories and/or used exploration stories as points of departure for fiction, provided 1 6 Macdonald (1828-1917) was an overlander and surveyor, and an academic geographer who published papers in geography and astronomy, and founded the Victorian Branch of the Royal Geographical Society of Australasia (Macdonald, 1915). 1 1 3 the basic formulae and cast of characters for Australian exploration adventure stories. '  The main characters, as in other adventure stories, are white, muscular, Christian men. Burke, for example, was represented as an adventurer who suffered bravely, and whose "daring" found "its foundation, support, and stimulus in [his] faith" (Berry, 1916: 67-68). °  And the fictional explorer in Mackie's The Lost Explorer is "a strong man", a graphically muscular Christian who, his companions reflect, "must be a real beauty in a scrimmage" (Mackie, 1912: 24). Similiarly, The  Secret of the Australian Desert is replete with muscular Christians. Their manliness is revealed through their adventures in the Australian interior, but Favenc is more interested in mapping the interior than in mapping them. While they have many ancestors in British adventure fiction, Favenc's heroes are most directly related to Sir Henry Curtis, Captain John Good and Allan Quartermain, the heroes in King Solomon's Mines. Haggard's three adventurers travel into unmapped African desert in search of a lost Englishman, Sir Henry's brother George. They find a lost kingdom, and the legendary source of King Solomon's riches. They endure the heat of the desert, survive encounters with fierce warriors, and tangle with seemingly evil practices and evil spirits in the course of their exciting adventures. Their mission accomplished, they leave the interior Kingston retold the voyages of Captain Cook in a non-fiction narrative intended for young readers, Captain  Cook,  His  Life, Voyages, and  Discoveries (1871). At a slightly greater remove from "factual" history, others presented fictionalised versions of history, introducing fictional characters, but leaving the received history basically intact. This was the general formula applied by the most popular of all the British Victorian historical novelists for boys, G. A. Henty, who was able to breathe life into received history, and to turn histories into lively and readable boys' adventure stories (Arnold, 1980). In the same way, Ballantyne fictionalised Sir Alexander Mackenzie's Canadian "adventures and discoveries" in his 1872 novel, The Pioneers, while Canadian writer J.M. Oxley fictionalised Franklin's 1819 voyage in North Overland With Franklin (1901). *** In an RTS (Religious Tract Society) anthology of explorer stories entitled Men of Grit (Berry, 1916). *^ Although muscular Christianity is not the focus of this chapter: see chapter three. 1 1 4 laden with diamonds. The  Secret follows Haggard closely, substituting Australian settings and characters. Favenc's story begins as Morton, the owner of a cattle station in northern South Australia, sits smoking with his friend, Brown, and his visiting young relation, Charlie, on the back porch. The three men gaze into central Australian terra incognita, "unknown" space, but space surrounded in mystery and legend. One of the legends of central Australia is a "burning mountain" that is said to exist. "What do you say, Brown, to having a look for the burning mountain?" asked Morton (Favenc, 1896: 12). Next morning their quest begins. "With full water bags, and a determination not to be beaten back" (Favenc, 1896: 15), and with an aboriginal boy, Billy Button, they head for the interior, the mountain their vague destination. The Secret begins in broadly "realistic" space, with details of bush flora and fauna, of bush craft, of practical exploration, all drawn (in part) from Favenc's personal experience. Favenc assures the reader that "the descriptions of the physical features of the country are faithful records from personal experience" (Favenc, 1896: v). He describes local vegetation such as blood wood trees and mulga scrub, and uses specifically Australian terms such as "gins" and "pickaninnies" to refer to Aborigines (women and children). He describes bush craft techniques, such as locating water holes by observing the "flights of white corellas" (Favenc, 1896: 19). 1 1 5 Favenc's "realistic" geographies and histories fade into clicked  Australian landscape — weird, melancholic, silent, strange, sullen — as the three get further from home. " It was a weird and weary tramp across this rock by the light of the stars, with vague darkness all around them. None of them felt inclined to speak, and an intense silence reigned everywhere. A sickly moon rose just before daylight, and its faint beams cast the long shadows of the travellers across the gleaming surface of the limestone. (Favenc, 1896: 47) As the trio pass through vaguely-realistic spinifex deserts and limestone plains, into less-realistic territory, they confront the true terra incognita of the interior. Behind them lay the bare expanse of rock just crossed,and before them the unknown. Now, too, they would have to keep a keen look-out for lurking foes, because in amongst these boulders every step was fraught with danger, especially as the blacks knew of their approach... (Favenc, 1896: 48) Favenc's realistic geography frames the mysterious, "unknown heart of the continent", a possible space, buried in the heart of a continent, surrounded by desert. The unknown interior is the setting of their adventure, which begins on the limestone plain, where they encounter a tribe of fierce cannibals, the Warlattas. An awful feeling of horror came over the whole party as they realised their situation and possible fate. In a wilderness of savage rocks, surrounded by an expanse of desert, almost in the hands of some fifty or sixty fierce cannibals... (Favenc, 1896: 61) Although Morton, Charlie and Brown set out in search of a "burning mountain", it turns out that this is not the desert's only secret. The desert is replete with secrets, mysteries and riddles, including the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Leichhardt, and the riddle of cave paintings, which seemed to suggest the presence of an "ancient and partly civilized z o In 1876 Marcus Clarke described the "weird melancholy" of Australian landscape, in conventionally sublime language. "All is fear inspiring and gloomy.... Hopeless explorers have named mountains out of their suffering - Mount Misery, Mount Dreadful, Mount Despair.... in Australia alone is to be found the Grotesque, the Weird, the strange scribblings of Nature learning how to write" (preface to Sea Spray and Smoke Drift, 1876, cited by Barnes, 1986: 92). 116 race" (Favenc, 1896: iv). The adventurers find mysterious artifacts, some of which seem to be clues: a dead native with a red smear on his forehead and a white triangle painted on his chest; a six-toed footprint ("the footprint of the devil") carved on a rock surface; an anchor carved on a tree; and, living with cannibals, an "old, old man, with snow white hair and beard" (Favenc, 1896: 62). All these clues suggest new questions, new mysteries. As the adventurers proceed, they progressively unravel (some of the) mysteries of the Australian desert. The natives with red smears and white triangles turn out to be a tribe of cannibals, the "mixed and degenerate descendents" of a lost civilization (Favenc, 1896: 149). The devil's footprint is explained, perhaps, when it turns out the cannibals are "devil worshippers". The carving of an anchor was left by an illiterate white man, a member of Leichhardt's party. The old white man, living with the cannibals, also turns out to be a survivor of Leichhardt's party. When they hear the cannibals chanting "Mur! Fee!" at a flesh-eating ceremony, the three sleuths put two and two together, and one suggests: "By jingo, supposing that was v Murphy' they were shouting. I believe there was a man of that name in the lost party" (Favenc, 1896: 65). Unfortunately the white man dies before he has a chance to tell his story, although he is able to pass on a rather mutilated copy of a journal, written by another of Leichhardt's party. The journal explains the disappearance of all traces of the party; a bush fire led the author to conclude, "we knew that our animals, saddles, and the Doctor's body would be burnt up, and no one would ever see more of them" (Favenc, 1896: 97). The journal also clears up some of the mysteries regarding the fate of the survivors and, along with information obtained from the cannibal chief, leads the three adventurers to (trace the life of) its author, an explorer by the name of Stuart, who spent his last days with a tribe of friendly aborigines. Thus the Leichhardt mystery is unravelled. 21 Mysterious cave drawings, attributed to some civilized race, had been seen by George Grey in (another part of) the continental interior. Sketches of these were reproduced in an appendix to The History. i l l The adventurers get to the bottom of many of the Australian desert's secrets, but they do not dispel all of its mystery. Leichhardt remains a distant, mystical figure, who suffered "attacks of feverishness and temporary madness" (after a wound to the hand) and, as he lay dying, "talked a good deal to himself in German" (Favenc, 1896: 95). Even Stuart, author of the journal, had a few mystical experiences in the desert. He recalled a tramp through the desert, "a dream of stumbling along and helping each other, sometimes talking to the phantoms we all fancied we saw walking with us" (Favenc, 1896: 97). The young adventurer, Charlie, also has a mystical experience in the desert. After he helps unearth a cache of buried treasure in the grave of a native priest, Charlie is troubled by dreams and a fever. He dreams he can read the strange inscriptions he has seen on the cave wall, and that they say, "The Spirit of Evil is everywhere. Worship then the Spirit of Evil only, and do his behests" (Favenc, 1896: 160). Charlie sinks into a delirium that lasts until Brown acknowledges the power of the spirits and returns the contents of the grave to the earth. Some of the mystery of the desert remains. Whereas the explorers Favenc celebrated in Favenc's History "had a blank sheet to fill up" (Favenc, 1898: 7), and they filled it up with colonial geography, the explorers (past and present) in The Secret of the Australian Desert travel in a blank, mysterious landscape, but rather than filling it up with concrete geography, they leave it open, defining it as a mysterious and at least partly unmapped space (see Huggan, 1989a: 65; Huggan, 1994). They keep a "rough chart" of their journey, "compiled every night by dead reckoning" and corrected when possible (Favenc, 1896: 187) (see figure 4.4). They do not map everything they find. The location of the gold reef they discover, for example, remains a secret. Their rough chart, like their loosely realistic travel narrative, sketchily maps a real but unknown, open space. 1 1 8 Figure 4.4 The  Secret of the Australian Desert (1896: frontispiece): route map showing "Leichhardt's Track" and "Morton and Brown's Track". This map locates Favenc's fiction in realistic space, bringing the fictional characters, Morton and Brown, together with historical figures such as Leichhardt. In the middle of the realistic but largely unmapped space, Favenc sets his story and charts his setting. The "real but unknown" interior is his carte blanche. Geographical details remain thin on the ground, as Favenc is more interested in defining space in which to invent places, than in inventing places himself. 1 1 9 The open, still quite mysterious space defined in The Secret of the Australian Desert was a 11 space in which Favenc could imagine Australia. * Adventure stories had defined spaces in which to fantasise about lost civilisations (e.g. King Solomon's Mines) and future civilisations (e.g. Robinson Crusoe),  and Favenc borrowed from both traditions in The Secret of the Australian Desert. While Morton, Brown and Charlie uncover the remnants of a lost civilisation, they are really preoccupied with the future. They witness, and play an active role in, the disappearance of aborigines, who are trapped in their cave, buried alive with their victims. The Secret is set in a space littered with the skeletons and rotting bodies of its original inhabitants. When he sees the remains of a tribe, massacred by the Warlattas (cannibals), Brown reflects, "What a blessing it is to know that all those wretches who did this are crushed into jelly underneath tons of rock" (Favenc, 1896: 125). The interior, violently cleared of its aboriginal occupants, is a manufactured carte  blanche, a space in which the explorers are able to dream of a future white civilisation. The setting of The Secret is far from the settlements, and even from existing cattle stations. Not attached to any one colony, it exists between all colonies. The setting is a national space, a generically Australian space. When the explorers dream of its future, they dream of the future of Australia. Morton admits to being an "optimist and an enthusiast" about Australia; he predicts that "the end of the coming century will see it settled from east to west throughout" (Favenc, 1896: 213). Brown expects the gold reef he has found will attract the first whites; he tells Morton, "you will soon see a road out here and a township too," and reminds him that "both you and I have seen those things spring up like magic in Australia, Imagining Australia, Favenc continued a tradition of using Australian terra incognita as conceptual space in which to imagine a new society, a singular vision of a white Australian nation. Whereas seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French and English writers such as Gabriel de Foigny and Henry Neville set their Utopias and dystopias in the entire continent, or on the coast, Favenc retreated to the interior, Australia's remaining terra incognita (see chapter six) (Gibson, 1984). 1 2 0 before now" (Favenc, 1896: 187). Favenc's dream in The Secret of the Australian Desert, a dream he expressed in other works such as The Great Austral Plain, that the desert should blossom (Frost, 1983: 36). vWhat a real desert!' said Brown, gazing round on the dreary scene. v Yes, it's about as hopeless a looking picture as one could find anywhere, at present. And yet, if the artesian water is found to extend throughout the interior, it will change the whole face of the Australian earth in time. This spinifex would not grow here, but that the climate is so arid that nothing else will grow, and this beastly stuff can thrive without any rain at all. No, burn this scrub off, or clear it somehow, and, with a good supply of artesian water, there are a hundred and one payable products one could grow here'. (Favenc, 1896: 213) Favenc reflected, "in our own time we have seen how the desert theory has been exploded in New South Wales ~ forced, as it were, outside the boundaries by the mere expansion of settlement" (Favenc, 1888: 387). But, although he insisted (in The Secret of the Australian Desert) that the "Australian desert" could be settled, Favenc presented the desert less as a space to be directly colonised than as malleable terra incognita, a space in which to imagine Australia. Like the early Australian explorers interpreted by Paul Carter in The Road to Botany Bay, Favenc did not map places; he inscribed "the shadowy outline of a place", constructed imaginative (textual) space in which settled places might one day be invented (Carter, 1987: 17). The Australian interior was, both physically and imaginatively, a national landscape in the 1880s and 90s. It was an imaginative carte blanche in which Australians were able to invent their nation. National Landscape Favenc's exploration stories can be located, alongside other adventure mysteries by writers such as Macdonald and Mackie, broadly within the national movement(s) of the 1890s that helped define Australia as a (federal) nation within the empire and prepare it for nationhood, which formally began with the Commonwealth Act of 1901. 1 2 1 From the beginnings of British settlement until the last few decades of the nineteenth century, British Australians identified with individual colonies and with the British Empire, but not generally with Australia as a nation (Powell, 1988). The Australian nineties, it has often been said, were years of "intense artistic and political activity, in which the genius of this young country had a brief and brilliant first flowering.... A scattered people, with origins in all corners of the British islands and in Europe, had a sudden vision of themselves as a nation" (Palmer, 1954: 9). Nationalists challenged traditional colonial and British imperial loyalties. Artists and writers, mostly in Sydney and Melbourne, produced "national" images, including "national" landscapes. Living and writing in Sydney, Favenc was actively involved in this Australian national movement. In addition to his geographies and histories and his book-length works of fiction, he wrote stories and sketches for the nationalistic, radical, republican literary journal, The Bulletin. Consistent with the journal's house style, Favenc's Bulletin writing, like much of his other writing, focussed on bush and outback images and stories. Founded in 1880, achieving a circulation of over 80,000, and publishing such writers and poets as Henry Lawson and Joseph Furphy, The  Bulletin was the mouth piece of nationalists. Bulletin  writers defined the nation through stories about male bush and ^ The importance of the 1890s as a moment of origins has perhaps been over-stated. Bush imagery, bush characters (e.g. bush rangers) and bush values (e.g. mateship, egalitarianism) have origins in early nineteenth-century Australia, Britain and Ireland (Lansbury, 1970). The 1890s national tradition was also, in part, an invention of twentieth-century critics, who appropriated 1890s cultural productions for their own ends (Schaffer, 1988). In the 1920s "artists and writers of the 1880s and 1890s were re-cast as giants, the like of whom we would be lucky to see again" (Burn, 1980: 96). ^ The Bulletin was "for some years.. .to act as the chief instrument in expressing and defining the national being" (Palmer, 1954: 92) 1 2 2 outback figures, such as diggers, bushrangers and, occasionally, explorers , and through evocation of bush and outback landscapes. Landscape, more than just a "way of seeing", was an imaginary space in which British and other colonists in Australia formed and negotiated their identities, as Australians. Landscape was the central preoccupation of Australian writers, poets and painters. " Australian landscapes of the 1890s were generic, national rather than regional, and emphasised the continental interior. ' The central Australian "national" landscape was partly an invention of exploration stories, stories about encounters in the "unknown" centre, beyond the settled districts. ° 2^ Many explorers were regarded as too "establishment" for Bulletin writers. Even Burke (an Irishman) and Leichhardt (a German) were sometimes condemned as establishment figures. Bulletin  writer Joseph Furphy, in Such is Life, attacked Burke, who he saw as an establishment hero. Through the bullock-driver, Thompson, Furphy asserted that Burke was not the popular hero that "books" made him out to be. Thompson complains, "you'll never read a word against him ... in conversation, you'll always learn that Burke never did a thing worth doing or said a thing worth saying; and that his management of that expedition would have disgraced a new-chum schoolboy; and old Victorian policemen will tell you that he left the force with the name of a bully and a snob, and a man of the smallest brains. Wonder why these things never get into print" (cited by Bonyhady, 1991: 279). 2" Landscape was the central preoccupation of colonial writers (Moore, 1971), poets (Turner, 1986) and painters (Brack, 1968; Smith, 1979). One cultural historian writes, for example, that "if the land itself was the strongest single determinant in shaping the forms of the society, making Australians out of colonials, it was also the dominant influence in our writing. Australian literature is essentially a literature of the land" (Moore, 1971: 68). *' Matthews (1962) argues that Australian landscape writing, in comparison to Canadian, is markedly national rather than regional. I agree, but do not wish to deny the regional movements in Australia or the national movements in Canada. For example, the Canadian north is sometimes a national landscape, and the Canadian Rocky Mountains were the subject of a national landscape art movement in the 1880s and 1890s. Australian landscape was "reduced to a rather singular vision - the Interior, the outback, the red centre, the dead heart, the desert, a wasteland" (Schaffer, 1988: 22). 28 Sellick (1977: 9) argues that out of exploration narratives there emerges a myth of the land, which is "encapsulated in the notion of the v Centre': that region beyond the settled districts of the continent which few have seen but which, for many, epitomises the Australian landscape." 123 In the twentieth century Australians — including writers, poets and artists, and also academics such as geographers — have continued to imagine and represent their nation through national landscape ideas and images. Tum-of-the-century geographer Alexander Macdonald (1907: 5) expressed "hope.. .in the existence of a wonderful region in the vague mists of the Never Never Land." When Griffith Taylor, founder of the Sydney University Geography Department, argued that Australia was not as fertile or receptive to settlement as had been supposed, he spoke in very general terms, about a generic, singular national landscape. Taylor's critics, the most prominent of whom was the Icelandic-Canadian V. Steffansson, argued the opposite, that Australia had great settlement potential, but still spoke of a generic national landscape. In the twentieth century adventure stories about explorers continue to be told, almost exactly as Favenc and his contemporaries first told them. The Readers Digest popular history of Australian exploration, for example, marked the nation's bicentennial in much the same way as Favenc's History marked the centennial, as an imperial history of the discovery of Australia. Among the best-known twentieth-century Australian exploration stories are non-fictional adventures based on the Burke and Wills expedition, by Frank Clune (Dig: a Drama of Central Australia, 1937) and Alan Moorehead (Cooper's Creek,  1963). * Exploration ™ Taylor gained a reputation for being pessimistic and unpatriotic. "His fellow-Australians were not primed for unpalatable home truths, and his opinions were considered scandalous in nationalist-imperialist circles" (Powell, 1988: 129). He left Australia for the USA in 1928, where his views were better received. By the late 1930s Australians had warmed to his ideas. ^" Since the 1930s, as Taylor's general ideas about the limits of Australian settlement have been more widely accepted, possibilists have departed from the language of national landscape, and focussed instead on showing how settlers have been able to modify local environments, and survive in them. In The Making of the South Australian Landscape, for example, Williams (1974) focuses on human agency in local areas, specific rather than generic spaces. 3 1 Dig  sold 60 000 copies in its first decade in print, but it was outsold by Cooper's Creek (Bonyhady, 1991: 295). 1 2 4 adventure stories are often marketed as children's literature. Clune's story, for example, was re-issued as a book for children. And the dust jacket of a children's history of Australian exploration explains that "Doctor  Hunger and Captain Thirst  may be written about Australian history but it is really a series of adventure stories" (Hooper, 1982). Like Clune and Moorehead, Hooper retells exploration as adventure, and departs very little from the nineteenth-century exploration stories of Favenc and his contemporaries. Conclusion Favenc was one of the British-Australian writers who transplanted British narratives to Australian settings, mapping colonial geographies and defining possible Australian spaces. Just as he physically dispersed aborigines in order to clear the way for colonial expansion, so he imaginatively dispersed aborigines and erased their "mysterious" cultural geography, charting a carte blanche that was more accommodating to European imperial dreams, including British-Australian national dreams. In his explorer fictions, rather than simply filling up "blank charts" with explorer stories and explorers' maps, as he had in The History of Australian Exploration and The New Standard Geography of Australasia, Favenc actively inscribed blank charts. In The History and The New Standard Geography  he charted "all the elements of a nation" (Favenc, 1888: 399), but he did not succeed in putting the elements J Z While Australian explorer stories have been retold, almost unchanged, in popular histories and children's stories, they have been reworked by more critically minded historians (such as Chisholm, 1941; Webster, 1980), writers (such as White, 1957; Stow, 1967) and painters (most notably, Sidney Nolan), in the postwar period. These writers and artists have shown that exploration histories need not be told as an adventure stories. J.M.R. Cameron (1992), for example, has attacked the heroic narrative structure of exploration history by showing how one explorer (George Grey, as hero of the expedition to northwestern Australia in 1837-1838) was no superman, but just one man bound up in institutional and social contexts in which exploration was able to take place. By removing exploration history from the narrative structure of adventure, Cameron and others have freed themselves of the limitations of history as adventure, focussed on heroic European men. 1 2 5 together as a nation. In fictions such as The Secret he charted a space in which to imagine the nation. CHAPTER FIVE THE AMBIVALENCE OF ADVENTURE: BOY TRAMPS AND GIRL HEROES IN CANADIAN SETTLEMENT STORffi S Adventure stories often seem very conservative, reaffirming rather than challenging constructions of gender, race and imperialism, and mapping them in seamlessly realistic space. But adventure also has a radical edge, a potential to unmap rather than map and a tendency to transgress rather than reproduce geographical and social boundaries. While some adventure stories are mainly conservative and others mainly critical, most combine conservative and critical tendencies. Adventure stories and settings are politically ambivalent. The liminal geography of adventure is ambiguous; its inversions of and disruptions to the social order may (or may not) be subversive. Its realistic images, furthermore, may naturalise the social order if they are read in one particular way, but they may subvert it if they are read differently. Images of muscular Christians, for example, naturalise Christian manliness if they are read as Kingsley and Ballantyne intended, but they subvert it if they are aestheticised, regarded as objects of homoerotic beauty. Contemporaneous images of female heroes are equally ambiguous, partly because they combine a mixture of (what are conventionally regarded as) "masculine" and "feminine" characteristics. The title of this chapter, "boy tramps and girl heroes", refers to the ambivalence produced by blurred gender roles in adventure fiction. This ambivalence is particularly visible in stories where boys embark upon less daring adventures, and appear "less masculine", and when girls become adventure heroes, and take on some of the "masculine" characteristics previously reserved for boys. Reading stories of boy tramps and girl heroes, set in Canada in the late-Victorian and Edwardian periods, I comment on the ambivalence of adventure and spaces of adventure more generally. 1 2 7 Many adventure stories set in western Canada, published throughout the Victorian and Edwardian periods, confirm the idea that adventure is a conservative narrative. They tend to reaffirm the ideals of muscular Christianity and celebrate the rule of the London-based fur-trading company — the HBC - almost exactly as Robert Ballantyne had done in The Young Fur Traders (1856). Indeed, "most later writers of the [Canadian] boys' adventure story strove for the Ballantyne style" (Egoff, 1992: 112). Some attempts were made to challenge this conservatism by pro-emigration and settlement writers such as J.M. Oxley and Bessie Marchant. But Oxley's stories, such as The Boy Tramps (1896), only seemed to confirm the idea that (Canadian) adventure is not adventure when its heroes are not muscular Christians and when its settings are not wide open, frozen spaces. The Boy Tramps reads like a watered down, out-of-place adventure story. Bessie Marchant, on the other hand, was more successful in writing Canadian adventure stories that did not reproduce Ballantynesque constructions of gender and imperialism. Daughters of the Dominion; a  Story of the Canadian Frontier (1908), for example, maps womanliness rather than manliness, and emigration and settlement rather than the fur trade. Marchant's adventure stories have often been seen as exceptional, in the sense that they were written for and about girls rather than boys, and in the sense that their themes and settings are relatively domestic. But, in the general sense that they challenged received constructions (gender) and unmapped familiar geographies (fur trade geographies), Marchant's stories illustrate something of what adventure, more generally, is capable of. They also show that it is possible to be critical - to challenge constructions of *• Ballantyne's literary image had parallels in some travel writing and fine art, by writers and artists such as the Earl of Southesk (in the late 1850s) and Paul Kane (in the 1840s). Other than in some vaguely nostalgic undertones, they did not acknowledge the (beginning of the) HBC's decline, or the changes that were beginning to take place in western Canada at the time. Conventionally Romantic travellers, they sought out ancient and natural-looking elements in the landscape. Kane portrayed Indians and buffalo in The Wanderings of an Artist (1859) and in paintings, some commissioned by the HBC (Harper, 1971: 9). Southesk focussed on craggy peaks and wild beasts, which inspired his poetic imagination. He observed, for example, "These goats began to seem to me like the enchanted beasts in German stories" (Southesk, 1875: 241). He described conventionally, generically sublime landscapes. 1 2 8 gender and imperialism that are naturalised in popular culture — without assuming critical distance from (most of) the values and conventions of that culture. One might expect popular, commercial writers, with their known styles and their established audiences, to write only what they (and others) have written before, to leave the unmapping to more literary figures who are prepared to assume some critical distance from contemporary values and conventions. Green (1990: 3,4), for example, suggests that "[m]en and women of letters" have written adventure "against its grain", in "satiric, anti-adventurous" re-tellings. Specifically, he argues that "[w]riters with those ultimately spiritual ambitions that are suggested by the word "art' did not choose to write the Robinson Crusoe story, except to subvert it." But Marchant shows that this is not necessarily the case. Writing critical adventures rather than anti-adventures, working within the medium of adventure rather than criticising adventures, she reached a wide audience, which she entertained and, she hoped, influenced too. Boy Tramps: ambivalent adventurers, out-of-place adventures J.M. Oxley^ was one of a number of writers who tried to redefine the Canadian adventure story in order to represent and promote new forms of colonialism, including tourism and agricultural settlement. While Ballantyne and his imitators continued to set stories in a fur-trading wilderness in the second half of the nineteenth century, western Canada was rapidly being transformed into an agricultural frontier with broken prairie and enclosed fields, a region populated by practical settlers, served by a transcontinental rail road, and littered with 1 James Macdonald Oxley (1855-1907) was born in Nova Scotia and educated in law (Moyles, 1976: 179). Oxley wrote 31 books for boys, most of them set in Canada (Egoff, 1992: 305). "* Another was Argyll Saxby, Scottish-Canadian settler and author of settlement adventures including The Call of Honour; a  Tale of Adventure in the Canadian Prairies (1911) and The Settler of Serpent Creek; a  Tale of the Canadian Prairie (1921). 1 2 9 Figure 5.1 Map in Department of the Interior Atlas of Canada (1915) showing western provinces and route of Canadian Pacific Railway through Winnipeg, Regina, Calgary and Vancouver, with branch lines. By 1915 the C.N.R. and Grand Trunk Pacific railways were also operational in western Canada. 1 3 0 bones, reminders of the huge herds of buffalo that had disappeared so abruptly. Ballantynesque adventures sold books but they did not always attract immigrants and settlers, as "patriotic" writers like Oxley were committed to doing. Adventure stories influenced many prospective emigrants3, but they tended to appeal to adventurous boys rather than to more sedentary farming people (farmers and peasants) and women, both of whom were targeted — by Canadian government and private emigration boosters — as desirable immigrants. Ballantyne's readers, it has been suggested, "were the boys who were to become the soldiers and sailors, the explorers and trail-blazers, the missionaries and bishops, the merchant adventurers, the exploiters, the Word-spreaders, the successes and failures of the great British Empire" (Quayle, 1967: 303). The Amalgamated Press, publisher of Ballantyne and many other adventure story writers, boasted in 1912 that H The bones were gathered together, removed and sold as fertiliser, so that soon the only reminders of their existence were the buffalo wallows, depressions in the prairie. 3 The majority of pre-war immigrants were literate anglophones, people who were exposed to, and presumably influenced by, the images of western Canada they encountered in popular literature, ranging from emigration propaganda to adventure stories (Francis, 1989; Harrison, 1977; Harrison, 1980; Moyles and Owram, 1988; Peel, 1966). Especially between 1897 and 1913, a time of record immigration, three quarters of immigrants to western Canada were British or of British descent (Friesen, 1984). Between 1897 and 1905, when Clifford S if ton was Minister of the Interior, the Dominion government also tried to attract immigrants from rural areas of northern and eastern Europe. Northern and Eastern European were, for the most part, neither anglophone nor literate, and so would not have been influenced by British-Canadian adventure stories. " Similar things have been said of other adventure story writers. W.H.G. Kingston, for example, has been called a "great imperial school master" who led "buxom housewives" to "the back-blocks of Australia" and "stalwart punchers" to "the prairies of the far west" (Kingsford, 1947: 73). It is, of course, difficult to gauge the influence of individual stories with any precision. Kingston's biographer, speculating on the influence of that writer, acknowledged that "how many [emigrants] were influenced by him can only be conjectured" (Kingsford, 1947: 73). The idea of adventure is also said to have influenced other, less direct colonisers such as British investors who poured their money into British Columbian mines and Canadian railways. Moyles and Owram (1988: 142) suggest that "the appeal of Empire for the seemingly careful businessman was as romantic and often as non-rational as it had been for the juvenile reader of Boy's Own." 1 3 1 their publications "aimed from the first at the encouragement of physical strength, of patriotism, of interest in travel and exploration, and of pride in our empire. It has been said that the boys' papers of the Amalgamated Press have done more to provide recruits for our Navy and Army and to keep the esteem of the sister services than anything else" (Turner, 1957: 115). In many cases concrete colonial acts such as agricultural settlement were mentioned not in stories but in prefaces, advertisements and correspondence columns. For example, the editor of The Boy's Champion Story Paper responded to a boy's inquiry about emigration, with the following advice: I do know a gentleman who is quite an authority on Canadian farming, and who knows a great many farmers out there with whom he can place respectable lads, but it is only on condition that these lads pay their own passage-money and provide their own outfits. This altogether costs about nine or ten pounds, and any boy with this sum, who wishes to emigrate to Canada, should write to Mr Weeks, and providing he is suitable, this gentleman will arrange for him to go out to Canada with a party of boys, and he will see him safe to his destination. ... Mr Weeks is keenly interested in the question of emigration, and, being a patriotic Briton, he does not mind spending a good deal of his time in forwarding this excellent object. (21 February 1903: 617) Other writers made marginal concessions to the settlement cause, suggesting in prefaces and footnotes that their Ballantynesque settings had since been civilised, and that true wilderness lay only in the past and/or in remote corners of the northwest. But while these adventures attracted some, notably the "masculine, virile, and venturesome elements in the population, ' And Kingston "toiled horribly" to promote emigration (Kingsford, 1947: 73), both in his writing of stories and pamphlets (such as "How To Emigrate"), and also in his work with the Colonisation Society (as its secretary) and in his formal political efforts to promote emigration. He lobbied for increased attention to, and expenditure on, emigration (Kingsford, 1947: 72, 74, 186; Nelson, 1991: 178). ° For example, in 1885 Daunt reminded readers that his hunting adventure, The Three Trappers,  was set in the past. He reflected that "in a few years the romance of the prairies will be a tradition of the past. Nay, the pig has already replaced the buffalo, and the policeman has supplanted the Indians. Already has civilization nearly achieved a conquest over the wilderness" (Daunt, 1885: 113). Unlike the heroes of his story, readers could go to Canada without any "danger of being waylaid by Blackfeet" (Daunt, 1882: v-vi). 132 who were likely to emigrate" (Kingsford, 1947: 73)9, they still repelled others. Mostly written by, about and for boys and men, Ballantynesque adventures generally excluded girls and women from participating in the fantasies and the realities of western Canadian colonialism. And, emphasising emigration but remaining virtually silent about farm life, they did little to promote emigration and settlement among settled rural people. As one emigration activist explained, "It is the farming people this country wants. Farmers in the old country whose families have rented farms for generations are somewhat stolid and totally unacquainted with travelling."1" Failing to appeal to women11 and settled rural people, adventure stories failed to attract two groups who were targeted by the Dominion, the CPR and many emigration societies12 as suitable and necessary immigrants (Friesen, 1984). From an immigration and settlement perspective, adventure stories were sending out the wrong messages to the wrong people.13 9 This is a reference to the influence of Kingston, by his biographer. Kingston was much more popular among boys than girls, according to Welsh's 1884 survey (which found Kingston to be the second most popular writer among boys, the twentieth most popular among girls). Salmon (1888) reported that 23% of boys (179/790) said Kingston was their favorite author, compared to 2% of girls (19/1210). 1 0 R. Lindsay, letter to W.C. Van Home (28 Dec 1883) Van Home correspondences #2604 (Canadian Pacific corporate archive, Montreal). Lindsay, an Anglican clergyman, advised the CPR to assist travellers, taking care of them on the potentially difficult journey, minimising the risk of adventure. 1 1 Canadian observers perceived a "shortage" of women in western Canada through the pre-war period. Women were less likely to emigrate than men — fifty per cent more men than women emigrated from Britain in the period 1850-1914 - and they were particularly less likely to emigrate to newly settled parts of the Canadian west, where white men outnumbered white women by ratios of up to twenty to one .(Jacket, 1982). 1 2 Women's emigration societies, of which there were many, also promoted and assisted female emigration. Britain's first women's emigration society, the Female Middle-Class Emigration Society, was founded by Jane Lewin and Maria Rye in 1862. Rye's inspiration was Susanna Moodie's Roughing it in the Bush (1854) (Jackel, 1982). 3 Adventurous emigrants, inspired by boys' stories, must have been disappointed and bored by the farm life that most of them found in Canada. 1 3 3 Adventure seemed so bound up with boyishness and wilderness settings that some boosters of emigration and settlement, including settlers themselves, condemned adventure in general. One Saskatchewan settler, for example, wrote a parody of adventure in her 1911 diary. In "dark tragedy — a thrilling story of western life" J.C. Horner presented an all-male world of adventure — a world of domestic squalor and unwholesome yarns. The twelve-year-old "hero" is criticised for "reading books of the dime novel variety, daring adventures and hair-breadth escapes [which] fire the youthful imagination with vicious ambition and a desire to emulate". Horner condemned these yarns explicitly. Some stirring tales are told of the time when the lordly buffalo roamed practically unmolested over the boundless prairie where now the hand of civilized man holds sway, and this noble species is now extinct. Thrilling and exciting stories of the warring tribes of red men who previous to that had struggled for supremacy are still told and listened to with open mouth and bated breath by the "tenderfeet" as they gather round the little bar-room stove or spend the evening in the little "shack", called by courtesy "the hotel"... Other, better known writers and propagandists such as R.J.C. Stead15 (who worked for the CPR and later the Dominion) and Alexander Begg16 (who managed the CPR office in London) used anti-adventurous fiction as a means of promoting emigration and settlement. 1 Horner's parody of adventure begins with an apparent robbery, ends in anti-climax when it is found that the "thief" is nothing but a large rat. The protagonists — a widower and his twelve-year-old son — are helpless in the absence of women. Horner, J . C , 1911, " A dark tragedy - a thrilling story of western life", unpublished journal, Saskatchewan Archives Board - Regina R-E2278 1 5 Stead promoted the colonisation of western Canada both in his promotional work with the CPR and later the Dominion government, and also in his private literary efforts. He was a publicity agent in the CPR Department of Natural Resources (1912-1916) at Calgary, and, later, director of publicity in the Ministry of Immigration and Colonisation in Ottawa (from 1919). 1 6 Begg, a journalistic writer and general booster of the northwest, who was later appointed to manage the CPR publicity office in London, set his novel Dot it  Down (1871) in a civilised, prosperous Manitoba, and appended an "Emigrant's Guide to Manitoba" in case any readers should miss the point. Begg was one of many Canadian writers who departed from traditions of adventure story writing, and turned from action stories to romances and psychological novels, from untamed wilderness to enclosed farms and settlements (Harrison, 1980). 1 3 4 Stead's "prairie realism", first seen in poems and stories he wrote in the first decade of the twentieth century but best exemplified in his 1924 novel, Grain,  was a self-conscious departure from adventure. ' I have just completed a novel of western Canadian life. Although a western tale there is nothing "wild west" about it, because the wild west of literature owes its existence almost entirely to the imagination of certain low-brow novelists. I have simply tried to paint prairie life as true to conditions as my ability will permit, and I think I may claim that thirty years intimate association with the life of the plains at least to some degree fits me for the task.18 Western Canadian critics, many of them writing for newspapers committed to boosting the west, welcomed Stead's departure from adventure. In a 1914 review of The Bail Jumper, for example, The Albertan praised Stead's "attempts to portray truthfully in fiction the life of the inhabitants of a small prairie town". The Calgary Albertan (12 December 1914) concluded that The Bail Jumper would "serve the very patriotic purpose of creating a new and correct impression of the conditions of living in western Canada, among those people who have so long been deluded by the highly imaginative fiction of a different school of writers". But while writers such as Horner, Begg and Stead condemned and subverted adventure stories, other emigration and settlement activists like Oxley reworked adventure, attempting to make it serve different colonial ends. Oxley's stories, which were published in Canada, the United States and Britain, include Fergus MacTavish, a  Story of the Far North West (1892), Archie of Athabasca (1893), North Overland With Franklin (1901) and The Boy Tramps; or,  Across Canada (1896) (figure 5.2). These stories share the structure, the young, 11 Harrison (1980) reports that adventure stories were the most popular literature of colonial western Canada. Stead departed from the western Canadian tradition of adventure writing. He explained, with reference to another novel, recently rejected by New York publishers due to its lack of action, that "Dry  Water  is not an v action' story". Its "interest" depended "more upon atmosphere and characterisation than upon action". (Stead to McClelland 22 July 1935, Public Archives Canada MG30 D74 1-9). 1 8 Stead to T. Fisher Unwin, 14 Nov 1912, Public Archives Canada MG30 D74 1-9 1 3 5 Figure 5.2 The  Boy Tramps (1896): front cover. The boy tramps follow the line of the CPR, supreme icon of civilisation and British-Canadian nationalism in western Canada, as they head west. Their packs are light because they have sent their luggage ahead by train. OR fcCRPSS (fimVK DON. 1 3 6 white, male heroes, and some of the settings ~ including fur trading posts, in Fergus MacTavish and Archie of Athabasca — of more traditional adventure stories, but they present a different vision of western Canadian colonialism. In The Boy Tramps, Oxley promotes the CPR's "all-British" route to the Orient (the boys are headed for Shanghai) by train and steamship, he advertises tourism in Canada, particularly in the Rockies, and he seeks to inspire immigration and settlement in the prairies. The  Boy Tramps is the story of two British public-school boys, Bruce and Arthur, who cross Canada on foot, walking along the line of the CPR from east to west, traversing a liveable, attractive region populated by a variety of progressive colonists. When they leave Winnipeg, continuing their journey west, Bruce and Arthur pass through miles of rich agricultural territory, rehearsing the rhetoric (of explorers and propagandists) of 1" The Boy Tramps reads like some of the travel narratives that were produced by CPR-sponsored writers - such as William Sproston Caine's A Trip Round the World (1888), Stuart Cumberland's On the Cars and Off: Being the Journal of a Pilgrimage along the Queen's Highway from Halifax to Victoria (1887) and Ernest Ingersoll's Canadian  Guide Book (1892) - all of which promoted the CPR at every opportunity. The boys even learn that "there's no man deserves more credit for [the CPR construction] than him that's now president of the road" (Oxley, 1896: 201). But I have found no evidence that the CPR assisted Oxley in the production of this book. When Oxley's applications to the CPR for employment or assistance as a writer were rejected, he responded by claiming that he might not have trouble writing "down" to desired readers (letter to W.C. Van Home, 9 April 1886, Van Home Correspondences #12478, Canadian Pacific Corporate Archive, Montreal). He continued to apply for CPR assistance in writing up a CPR tour (letter to W.C. Van Home, 12 September 1890, Van Home Correspondences #30006, Canadian Pacific Corporate Archive, Montreal) but was again rejected. 137 the "fertile belt" as they go. u "North, south, and west of them lay a world of verdure" (Oxley, 1896: 182). The verdant country they traverse is farmed, dotted here and there with prosperous-looking farm houses. On the train, wandering into the colonist car, Bruce and Arthur encounter "men, women and children coming to settle in the rich wheat-lands of the northwest" (Oxley, 1896: 209).21 The two boys see signs of progress and prosperity such as railway tracks and modern-looking cities. Arthur is particularly impressed by Calgary. "Who," he wondered, "would have z u H.Y. Hind (Canada) and Capt. J. Palliser (Britain), led expeditions to western Canada in 1858. Palliser reported the existence of a "fertile belt" stretching across the northwest, bounded by a frozen north and an arid south. Climatologist Lorin Blodgett, writing for a popular audience at about the same time, constructed isotherms that redefined parts of the northwest as decidedly temperate (Dunbar, 1973). The optimism of Hind, Palliser and Blodgett was subsequently surpassed by that of "experts" such as John Macoun (celebrity botanist) and George Mercer (popular geologist) who went on to question and qualify the idea that the southern prairie grassland was desert-like. Macoun claimed the prairie region was one big fertile belt, bounded by an arid southern limit that corresponded roughly with the 49th parallel! and by a cold northern limit somewhere in the vicinity of the Arctic circle. 11 AX Similarly, in Kingston's The Frontier Fort the hero (Lome) travels through a "fertile belt", speculating about its potential for agricultural development. He exclaims, "I am delighted with your country, Burnett; I had no idea such lovely scenery and so much rich soil existed on this side of the Rocky Mountains.... I hope, before many years are over, to see the fair region covered with populous towns and villages, and flourishing farms" (Kingston, 1879: 2); "Day after day the travellers had been making their way along the Fertile Belt, the name given to a broad tract of country extending between the Red River and the base of the Rocky Mountains, bordered on the north by forests, lakes, and rivers, and on the south by that sandy and desert region which extends along the whole frontier of the United States" (Kingston, 1879: 7). Some non-fiction adventure writers — including travel writers — also rehearsed fertile belt rhetoric. Viscount Milton and Dr. Cheadle, in their popular and influential mid-century travel narrative, remarked on the potential of the prairie "fertile belt", which, they claimed, was "destined... to become one of the most valuable possessions of the British Crown" (Milton and Cheadle, 1865: vii). On the Arrowsmith map of their route, included in their published book, the fertile belt is shown as "rich soil and fine pasture" north of "arid plains". They claimed that "From Red River to the Rocky Mountains, along the banks of the Assiniboine and the fertile belt of the Saskatchewan, at least sixty millions of acres of the richest soil lie ready for the farmer when he shall be allowed to enter in and possess it. This glorious country, capable of sustaining an enormous population, lies utterly useless, except for the support of a few Indians, and the enrichment of the shareholders of the Last Great Monopoly" (Milton and Cheadle, 1865: 40). 138 thought of seeing such a fme city as this away out on the prairies?" (Oxley, 1896: 251). Bruce and Arthur delight in the luxuries of the newly civilised west, including hotels offering soft beds and delicious meals, and Pullman cars that always seem to be handy when they feel tired or bored of walking. "They were pleased to find" Portage la Prairie, for example, "quite a flourishing little city, with a cluster of big elevators and flouring mills near the railway station, and a capital hotel, whose comforts were particularly welcome after the plain fare of the past two days" (Oxley, 1896: 185). In his urban and domestic settings, Oxley is not just updating adventure to reflect the changing geography of the west. He is actively choosing to include — and celebrate — that new geography, to draw attention to "civilised" places that were ignored in Ballantynesque adventures. Oxley explicitly distances his settings from those of writers such as Ballantyne. His boy heroes are disappointed to find Fort Garry almost totally gone, and one remarks, "Wouldn't Ballantyne be disgusted if he were to come back and find that they had torn the old place to pieces, just to turn it into building lots!" (Oxley, 1896: 180). The two boys find many of the romantic elements of Ballantynesque adventure to have disappeared and/or to have been over-stated in the first place. They find that buffalo, for example, are not quite as wild and ferocious as in the stories and pictures of old. In truth, the dishevelled, dilapidated appearance of the buffalo (which had not yet got through shedding their winter coats, and were consequently hung all over with matted tufts of rusty hair), combined with their sleepy and spiritless bearing, like that of stall-fed cattle, could not fail to be a sharp disappointment to the boys, whose conception of the former monarches of the prairie had been formed from pictures representing magnificent creatures with superb manes thundering over the turf with head lowered and tail aloft. "If you don't mind my saying so, they're not just what I thought they would be,1 responded Arthur. *They're not a bit fierce, are they?' (Oxley, 1896: 174-5) Instead of riding horse-back through the prairie and hunting buffalo, the boy tramps travel by train, "gazing at the plains over which [the buffalo] had once roamed in plethoric regiments" 1 3 9 (Oxley, 1896: 230). The romantic spirit of Ballantyne's Canada has been tamed, its wildness contained, so when the boys do actually encounter a buffalo it is in a field and when they meet a bear it is on display in a cage, eating biscuits being thrown by spectators. When Oxley's heroes encounter Indians, they are either sedentary Christians2** or, like the dishevelled buffalo, they are poor relatives of their romantic, literary ancestors. The boys conclude that some Cree Indians, whom they meet near Regina, are not the "noble red men" of stories and myths. They had such a shabby, disreputable appearance, being dressed principally in dirty and tattered hats, shirts, and trousers, which seemed to have been cast off by their white brethren, that the boys viewed them with considerable distrust, and hoped they would ride past them. (Oxley, 1896: 213) By contrast, some Assiniboine Indians on a reserve west of Calgary have learned about Christianity and agriculture from Wesley an missionaries, and while they do not "look at all so natural or interesting", they have at least saved themselves from becoming "extinct like the buffalo" (Oxley, 1896: 254). Romance is relegated to the past, and perhaps to yarns told and set in the past. In another story — Fergus MacTavish — Oxley explicitly suggested that adventures were just yarns, that their spaces were purely imaginary. The tales of the 2 2 Similarly, in The Heart of the Prairie John Mackie suggested that "not so many years ago, when the facilities for travel were different from what they are now, a great deal of rubbish and erroneous impressions were disseminated by literature purporting to deal with adventures...in certain little-known places of the earth" (Mackie, 1901: i). John Mackie (1862-1939) was a Scot who emigrated to Australia then to Canada, and was a member of the NWMP (North West Mounted Police, later the RNWMP, then RCMP) from 1888-1893, as well as the author of at least six adventure stories (Peel, 1968: 2). 2^ Others who introduced sedentary, Christian Indians into their adventure stories include John McDougall and Egerton Ryerson Young. McDougall (a Methodist minister who described "frontier life in western Canada" in Forest, Lake  and Prairie, 1895) and Young (an Ontario Methodist minister, missionary and adventure writer) supported Christian mission and agricultural settlement on the prairies. Young noted that one reviewer of Three Boys in the Wild North Land (1896) "seemed to think it strange that boys could have such a jolly time with a lot of Christian Indians". He explained that he wanted to challenge traditional images of Indians, images "associated with the tomahawk and the scalping knife", in which the only good time that they could have among them was when the blood-curdling war-whoops were heard and the redskins were being shot down by adventurous lads led on by cowboys" (Young, 1899: 377). 1 4 0 "Saskatchewan Brigade" - voyageurs  - were as tall as the "lofty Rockies". "Their delight was to get hold of the raw recruits, the green young clerks who had arrived only that summer, and make their eyes bulge out with wonder at their stories, true and untrue, as frequently as not the latter, in which buffaloes, bears and red men figured prominently" (Oxley; 1892: 53). Partly because the setting is so civilised, and partly because the story takes place in summer, the boys' adventures seem forced, out of place. When they encounter dangers and hazards these tend to be moral — the drunkenness, fighting, swearing, laziness and human dereliction of people around them — rather than environmental — wild beasts or sub-zero temperatures. Moral adversaries include a thief who gets away with the boys' clothes while they are swimming, tramps who harass them and drunk men who are "just in the mood for a fight" (Oxley, 1896: 203). But many of their adventures arise through the boys' own foolishness rather than as the result of chance and a dangerous setting. Arthur's first adventure begins when he drops a boy off the steam-ship, while holding him upside down over the rails. Later adventures begin through similar acts of stupidity, such as falling into the bear cage and getting in the way of a domesticated buffalo (figure 5.3). Bruce and Arthur appear so ridiculous at times that one wonders whether The Boy Tramps was intended as an adventure or just a parody of adventure. But Oxley, rather than parodying adventure, was trying to invent adventures in a setting that, he insisted, was not intrinsically hostile. Oxley's boy tramps searched for adventure in places where adventure did not come naturally. Oxley combines adventure and settlement but manages to make them look like they do not belong together. 1 4 1 Figure 5.3 The Boy Tramps (1896): Arthur with caged bear. Bear attacks are a standard feature of nineteenth-century Canadian adventure stories, but when Oxley's heroes encounter a bear it is in a cage, and when Arthur finds himself in danger it is because of his own stupidity; he slips while feeding the grizzly with biscuits. 1 4 2 But adventure and settlement did belong together in western Canada. Emigrants generally became settlers, and settlers generally started out as emigrants. However sedentary they may have been before their journey and after it, they had to be at least a little bit adventurous for a time, setting out into the unknown, leaving their society and their civilisation behind them. As one British emigration activist put it, in an 1883 letter to the CPR, "to leave their homes and come out here is like performing Robinson Crusoe"^. The transformation of Robinson Crusoe from restless youth (emigrant) to stolid Christian (settler) represents the course of colonial history in British settlement societies. In order for Crusoe to reach the island, he has to be a wanderer, but in order for him to settle down to a life of routine work on the island, he has to renounce his wandering spirit. As Crusoe is transformed from an adventurer to a practical Christian, the island is transformed from unknown to known, and from wild to enclosed space. Whereas Ballantyne's adventurer in The Young Fur Traders (Charley) completed his rite of passage but left the wilderness virtually unchanged, and only hinted that he was ready for a more settled existence, Defoe's adventurer completed his rite of passage but remained in the setting of his adventure, which he civilised as he civilised himself. Defoe's adventurer effectively returned to civilisation, as all adventurers must do, but he did so without ever leaving the island. The significance of his final rescue lay not in his own return to civilisation - since that had already taken place - but in the return of his story to Defoe, the English "editor". Z 4 R. Lindsay, letter to W.C. Van Home (28 Dec 1883) Van Home correspondences #2604 (Canadian Pacific corporate archive, Montreal). 1 4 3 Figure 5.4 Daughters  of the Dominion (Blackie edition, 1909): front cover illustration by William Rainey. DAUGHTERS OF THE DOMINION 7~f" 1 4 4 As in Defoe's novel of emigration and settlement, Bessie Marchant's Daughters of the Dominion (figure 5.4) combines the seemingly contradictory tendencies of adventurous emigration and unadventurous settlement. Whereas Oxley presents an essentially static vision, in which two relatively detached tourists pass through Canada without changing either themselves or Canada very much, Marchant combines adventure and settlement more coherently in a more dynamic story that begins with adventure and ends with settlement. Marchant shows how a hero is transformed from an adventurer to a settler, and how she helps transform the setting from a space of adventure to a prosperous settlement. Daughters of the Dominion is the story of a young woman, Nell Hamblyn, who leaves a ranch in the American Rockies, and emigrates to Canada, where she works as a domestic servant, a telegraph operator and, later, a restauranteur. It incorporates many elements of formula juvenile adventure: buried treasure and riddles of the past, last-minute rescues and hairbreadth escapes, physical violence and attempted crime, chance encounters and mistaken identities, "good guys" and "bad guys", and, finally, marriage and happiness. Marchant resolved the seemingly contradictory tendencies of emigration and settlement, and of "masculinist" stories and girl heroes, in the Crusoe-like figure of Nell Hamblyn. Marchant unmaps Ballantyne's geography and remaps western Canada as a space of both emigration and settlement, and a space of both men and women. Girl heroes Rather than condemning adventures as the stories of boys and men, stories that excluded female writers, heroes and readers, Marchant wrote the adventure stories of girls and Z 5 Canadian writer and critic Robert Kroetsch (1978) calls the tension between emigration and settlement, adventure and its others, a "horse-house dialectic" in western Canadian literature and history. 145 women. She challenged the gendering of adventure stories and the gendering of female readers. In the Victorian period, the vast majority of British children's adventure stories were written by men, about boys and men, ostensibly for boy readers. Girls and women who wanted to read adventure stories were often forced to read so-called "boys' stories" and "boys' magazines". The Boy's Own  Paper, for example, was the second most popular magazine among British school girls polled in 1884 (Salmon, 1888). A contemporary critic commented that girls "can get in boys' books what they seldom get in their own - a stirring plot and lively movement" (Salmon, 1888). One "young lady" explained: A great many girls never read so-called "girls' books" at all; they prefer those presumably written for boys. Girls as a rule don't care for Sunday-school twaddle; they like a good stirring story, with a plot and some incident and adventures - not a collection of texts and sermons and hymns strung together, with a little Child's  Guide  to Knowledge sort of conversation. ... When I was younger I always preferred Jules Verne and Ballantyne... (Salmon, 1888: 29). Reflecting on the dullness of Victorian girls' stories, Edward Salmon (1888: 124) suggested that "girl-life hardly lends itself to vigorous and stirring treatment in the manner that boy-life does. It is far more difficult to ensure the reader's interest in domestic contretemps  and daily affairs than in the fierce combats between nations, or in the accidents of all kinds into which boys and men are, by the very nature of their callings, forever being led." Perhaps dull z o At the end of the Victorian period a large majority of British girls and women were literate. Since children (rather than adults, in general) were learning to read, literacy rates were higher among girls than women for most of the nineteenth century (Vincent, 1989). According to Bristow (1991) 73% of women (compared to 97% of men) were literate by the turn of the century, but Vincent (1989) concludes, from his detailed empirical research, that female literacy surpassed traditionally-higher male literacy rates. He writes, "the progress of Victorian England had caused a widespread subversion of the established hierarchy of the sexes" (Vincent, 1989: 26). Girls tended to read more than boys (Lyons and Taksa, 1992: 88), but they read less adventure stories. Comparing British boy and girl readers, Jenkinson (1946: 174) commented that "the most striking differences are that girls give much less of their time to adventure stories, considerably less to detective stories, a great deal more to stories of home life, to love stories, and to school stories." 1 4 6 stories did reflect and reproduce seemingly-dull lives, but not all writers were content to reproduce such a depressing status quo. In the last decade of the nineteenth century, girl readers were "[liberated] from the dull fiction that had previously been published" by a new generation of girls' adventure story writers, '  none more prolific or popular than Bessie Marchant (1862-1941)2** (Major, 1991: 32). Marchant's 150 novels, like her many articles and short stories, sold well not only in Britain but around the world, making her the most popular British girls' adventure-story writer of the time. A reviewer in one British newspaper described Marchant as "the girls' Henty.. .a writer of genuine tales of adventure with a dash and vigour quite exceptional" (Daily Chronicle, cited by Marchant, 1923: frontispiece). In their history of girls' fiction, You're a Brick, Angela!  (1976), Mary Cadogan and Patricia Craig identify Marchant as a radical writer, who entertained and empowered girl readers. They write, Bessie Marchant, whose first stories were published in the 1890s, specialised in depicting girls who were not the slaves of destiny. Her intrepid teenagers saw the old century out with a flourish, dashing off in search of adventure to all corners of the globe. Bessie Marchant's N winds of change' braced girls' fiction for the impact of the Edwardian new woman (Cadogan and Craig, 1976: 57). Marchant's "huge and enthusiastic readership" was composed largely (but not exclusively^) of girls and women (Doyle, 1968: 190). 2 7 In Edwardian Britain, the United States and Canada, "there came a flood of books with girls as the chief protagonists" (Egoff, 1990: 10). ° Marchant, a Baptist, whose literary income helped support a large family, lived in Kent and later in Oxfordshire. ^ Marchant also appealed to males, who were generally even less enthusiastic about girls' stories than the girls were themselves (Salmon, 1888, noted that girls read boys' stories but boys did not read girls' stories). One copy of Daughters of the Dominion, which I came across (University of British Columbia Special Collections), for example, is addressed "To Duncan, From Harold, Wishing him many happy returns of his 19th birthday, 1912". Clearly, "girls' adventures" were not just read by girls, and this should be kept in mind when interpreting them now. 147 Marchant put girl heroes into what were conventionally regarded as male roles. Adventure stories, "as everyone knows," or at least as Green (1991: 41) knows, describe "the rite de passage from white boyhood into white manhood". Marchant's adventurers pass, instead, from white girlhood to white womanhood. Marchant's girl heroes, like their counterparts in boys' fiction, are handsome rather than pretty, and they are never effeminate. Seventeen-year-old Nell, in Daughters of the Dominion, is not "pretty", although she has a "sweet, low voice" and "luminous eyes", which make up for "the defects of her face and figure" (Marchant, 1909: 9). Marchant heroes like Nell anticipate the most famous "tomboy" of twentieth-century British adventure fiction, George (in the Famous Five), whom Anne (her more "girlish" counterpart) calls a "pretend boy" (Mullan, 1987: 74). Marchant put girl heroes into what were conventionally regarded as male spaces. Marchant's heroes, like their male counterparts, have adventures all over the world, "  in stories such as Courageous Girl:  a story of Uruguay (1908), A Girl of The Pampas (1921), Norah to the Rescue: a Story of the Philippines (1919), A Transport Girl in France (1919), Sally Makes Good: a Story of Tasmania (1920) and The Ferry House Girls:  an Australian Story (1912), all of these published by Blackie, London. * Marchant heroes exhibit many of the same qualities as their male counterparts, and they go to many of the same places, but they are not "pretend boys", and they continue to be defined and sometimes limited by contemporary constructions of girlhood and womanhood. Nell does 3 0 Marchant found all the material for her exotically-set stories in England. She never travelled outside her home country, but acquired geographical information from sources including the Geographical Magazine, the Bodleian Library in Oxford, and the overseas correspondences she kept (Major, 1991). 3 1 Blackie was Marchant's principal publisher, publishing 66 of her 150 novels (Major, 1991). 1 4 8 not step right into a traditionally boyish, Ballantynesque adventure. The things she can do, and the places she can go, are limited and shaped by contemporary gender roles, in society and in literature. Her first adventures are purely domestic. After leaving her childhood home, setting out alone, she arrives by chance at the home of a sick woman, just in time to clean the house and save the woman's life, both of which the man of the house seems incapable of doing. "You came in the very nick of time," she is told by the doctor, as he accompanies Nell to another farm, Lorimer's clearing, where her help is also sorely needed (Marchant, 1909: 72). Nell delights in domestic work. "Washing, baking, sweeping, scrubbing, the days passed like a dream to Nell, and she was happier than she had been in all the years since her father died" (Marchant, 1909: 101). From Lorimer's clearing, Nell crosses the Canadian border in order to stand in for Gertrude Lorimer as a "girl telegraph clerk" at Bratley Junction, a railway depot in British Columbia's "rugged" mining country, near Lytton (Marchant, 1909: 49) (figure 5.5). Again, Nell is confined for most of the day to the interior space of her work place, and her little free time is spent at the home of her landlady (talking, eating and sleeping), or at the homes of nearby settlers, whom Nell helps out with child-minding, cooking, cleaning and mending. Nell's "adventure" begins to appear quite tame. But Nell also transgresses the boundaries of what many British and Canadian Edwardians regarded as "women's work" and "women's spaces". Her initial departure is an act of rebellion. The settlers who moved in wanted her to stay, to become their domestic drudge. Instead, Nell takes the initiative to leave. Her first day on the road is a difficult one, and it tests her powers of endurance. Nell was very tired. Since early morning she had tramped steadily, pursuing that apparently unending trail. Sometimes the way had been up steep ascents, over high ridges, where big boulders stuck up among the trees; then it would drop to lower ground, and skirt wide swamps... (Marchant, 1909: 58) Later, confined by domestic and telegraph work, Nell often longs to be out in the fresh air, and misses no chance to go outside. When a railway official needs to inspect the telegraph, 149 two miles from the depot, Nell volunteers to accompany him, as "the prospect of a few miles' run on snow-shoes was alluring to her, after her long days of imprisonment in the warm, stuffy little office" (Marchant, 1909: 137) (figure 5.6). In the Spring, Nell cannot wait to get outside. "Nell, child of nature that she was, grew entranced with the beauty and promise all about her, and but for the duty which chained her fast to the little office at the depot for 12 hours out of every 24, she would have been out-of-doors the whole day long" (Marchant, 1909: 145). Leaving home, striking out into the unknown, eventually finding herself at Bratley Junction and Camp's Gulch, Nell entered what (in society and in literature) was conventionally regarded as male territory. Marchant showed girl readers that they, like their male counterparts, could be adventurers; and they, too, could imagine emigrating. Cadogan and Craig (1976: 59) argue that, "inspired by the example of Bessie Marchant's heroines, girls were beginning to question the truth of Charles Kingsley's v.. .Men Must Work and Women Must Weep...' . no longer content to be simply backers-up of male empire builders, girls were seeking new worlds of their own to conquer". Marchant intended Daughters of the Dominion, like her dozen or so other Canadian adventure stories, 3 to promote female"*4 emigration to Canada, which she saw as 3^ Kingsley borrowed this phrase from an old song about fishermen and death at sea. 3 3 A  Daughter of the Ranges (1905), Sisters of Silver Creek (1907), Daughters of the Dominion (1908), A Countess from Canada (1911), Rachel Out West (1923), A Canadian Farm Mystery (1916), The Youngest Sister (1913), Mysterious Inheritance (1914) and Cynthia Wins  (1918), all published by Blackie, London. 3 4 Marchant did write a few boys' adventure stories, such as Athabasca Bill: a Tale of the Far West (1906), which was published by the Christian Knowledge Society, London. 150 Figure 5.5 Map showing location of Lytton and route of CPR through southern British Columbia. Legend Heights O - lOO fee t lOO -  SOO s o o - 1 , 0 0 0 1,000 -  2.00 0 2,000 -  5,00 0 5,000 - 1 0 . 0 0 0 „ crv-er 10.00 0 „ Depths o -  S O fa thom s 5 0 -  lO O ovrer lO O 1 5 1 Figure 5.6 Daughters  of the Dominion (1909): Nell on snow shoes. Nell is "womanly" (but not "ladylike") in her dress and demeanour, but she plays a more conventionally "masculine" role in this scene, volunteering for a trek through the cold on snow shoes. 1 5 2 a "land of promise" for female emigrants (Cadogan and Craig, 1976: 5 9 ) . ^ In the preface she stated that Canada is a great mother; there is room in her heart not merely for her own children, but for the needy of every nation. They may all come to her and find a home, if only they will work to earn it (Marchant, 1909: 4) Marchant's female emigrants, in stories such as Sisters of Silver Creek  (set in Assiniboia), A Countess from Canada  (Manitoba) and A Canadian  Farm Mystery, or,  Pam  the Pioneer (New Brunswick), share many of the same qualities, reasons for emigrating, experiences, and ultimate happinesses. Nell is representative of Marchant's fictional, female emigrants to Canada. Many British feminists supported women's emigration, and formed emigration societies to promote and assist women's emigration, because they saw emigration as a source of independence for women (Hammerton, 1979; Jackel, 1982). Before Pam (in Pam the Pioneer) emigrates to Canada, she tells her cynical brother, Jack, "You are quite early Victorian in your ideas of what girls should or should not do. But you have got to widen your outlook" (Marchant, 1932: 13). Marchant clearly sought to do more than just entertain her female readers. She reflected, in a 1931 letter, "to me it is the most thrilling thing in the world to think a plain ordinary woman like myself can sit in this quiet room and talk to girls all round the world, yes, and influence them, too" (Major, 1991: 33; my emphasis). " in the late nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries, Canada was the main destination for British women emigrants, and the focus for campaigns by women's emigration societies (Jackel, 1982). A few other women writers addressed adventure to girls, partly in order to promote female emigration. Jessie Saxby (1842-1940), a champion of women's emigration, visited the northwest in 1888 and 1889, and described the region as a destination for female emigrants, in The Edinburgh Scotsman  and in the adventure stories West-Nor-West  (1890) and Brown Jack, a  Tale  of North West  Canada (1896) (Peel, 1968: 1-2). 1 5 3 Girl heroes in adventure stories do not step into male shoes; they are not "pretend boys", and they do not appropriate male stories. But girl heroes and girl readers, like boy heroes and boy readers, are liberated by adventure stories, which provide them with a dream of transgressing the boundaries of their daily life. Marchant's girls, specifically, dream of transgressing contemporary boundaries of female behaviour and female space, they dream of transgressing the boundaries of their domestic world and perhaps even of their home country. Female emigrants and settlers While Oxley mixed adventurous emigration and unadventurous settlement in The Boy Tramps, Marchant synthesised those seemingly contradictory tendencies. Daughters of  the Dominion begins with adventure but ends with practical colonisation, begins with an adventurous emigrant but ends with an unadventurous settler. Daughters of  the Dominion begins on Nell's seventeenth birthday. The birthday goes largely unnoticed, partly because Nell has no friends, but lives in virtual isolation, on the American side of the western "frontier" with her unkind "grandfer", Doss Umpey. Nell is practical, accustomed to hard work and rural living, and keen to make something of herself. In short, she is the kind of person that the Canadian government, the CPR and most other contemporary boosters of western Canada considered a suitable immigrant, in the pre-war period. As she approaches womanhood, emigration is very much on Nell's mind. She dreams, quite vaguely, of where she might go, and entertains geographical fantasies. Nell has a few books, 5b Despite Green's "historical" generalisation that adventure is "the liturgy of masculinism", and that female adventurers are "exceptions" to this general rule (Green, 1990: 6). 1 5 4 one an atlas, which she pores over for hours. "Geography was so fascinating that she had to look upon it as a play task, the study being altogether too delightful to be regarded as work" (Marchant, 1909: 186). Like Robinson Crusoe, whose "Head began to be fill'd very early with rambling Thoughts" (Defoe, 1975: 5), Nell imagines distant places, and often thinks of leaving home to find them. But Nell is a girl, and the thought of running away makes her shudder. She tells a passing stranger, who stops for rest and food, "Where should I run to? And who would take me in? A girl isn't able to shift for herself and defy the world like a man" (Marchant, 1909: 24). To Nell, the idea of striking out into the wilderness seems like something out of a boys' adventure story, something only a boy could do. Nell does not abandon her domestic responsibilities, unjust and unhappy though they are, and she does not rebel against her (grand) father, as male heroes from Defoe's Crusoe to Ballantyne's Charley had done. But, when Doss Umpey disappears (under suspicious circumstances) and an unpleasant family of settlers occupies the farm, Nell feels she has no choice but to leave. The next morning, "quite prepared for her plunge into the Unknown," Nell sets out with a few clothes and some bread she has baked. Nell aims her "plunge into the Unknown" in the general direction of Canada. Doss Umpey has told her that "Canada is a land of promise for young people. There, English law, by which, of course, I mean Canadian law, is kinder to lone women and girls than American" (Marchant, 1909: 13). And in Canada there are opportunities for hard-working people with the will to work, as the doctor explains to Nell, on the way to Lorimer's clearing. He reassures Nell that she will not have any trouble in getting work when she crosses the border. 1 5 5 Daughters of the Dominion is set mainly in the mountains of British Columbia. The railway depot where Nell finds work "looked as if it were planted at the extreme end of civilisation" (Marchant, 1909: 167). It is on the edge of the wilderness, but not actually in the wilderness. Marchant's setting, reminiscent of the western Canada portrayed in emigration propaganda and other pro-emigration fiction, by writers such as Oxley, is accommodating to settlers. There are resources with the potential to be developed, including "fertile lowlands" and "very rich" copper ore deposits (Marchant, 1909: 167). There are no hostile Indians, no wolves and no bears, not even the relatively harmless, black variety. In the winter there is no problem with cold, just a little snow that gives Nell a chance to demonstrate her mastery of snow-shoes. Nell's adversaries are moral rather than physical. She encounters laziness, dishonesty, lawlessness and cruelty, mainly in Doss Umpey and his friends. Doss Umpey, who turns out not to be Nell's real grandfather, disappears early in the story, only to reappear towards the end, wounding Nell with a stick. But Nell forgives him and nurses him through his last days. In general, she responds to her moral adversaries with industriousness, perseverance, thriftiness, Christian forgiveness and, occasionally, physical courage. Nell's big adventure takes place at Camp's Gulch, a remote telegraph office where she is posted. One day she finds herself responsible for some valuable goods, which are being stored in the railway shed. That day, two men arrive with a coffin, said to contain a "Dead Chinaman", to be stored over night in the same shed. Nell's suspicions are aroused when she notices air holes in the coffin. She binds the coffin in heavy chains, and prepares to telegraph a warning to the railway company. When she finds the telegraph wires have been cut, she is not deterred. She sets off down the line, finding the point at which the wires were sabotaged, and proceeds to send a message through the open wires. This message is received by Nell's friend, Gertrude Lorimer, the telegraph clerk at Bratley Junction, fifteen miles away. When, eventually, two of the men at Bratley Junction manage to get a locomotive up to Camp's 1 5 6 Figure 5.7 Daughters  of the Dominion (1909): Nell's injury. Nell over-reaches herself and is found lying, injured. She presents a cliched image of a woman lying helpless on a railway track, viewed from the perspective of the men who save her. After her accident, Nell retreats from more adventurous and otherwise conventionally "masculine" pursuits and ambitions, and devotes herself to domestic, more conventionally "feminine" activities. 1 5 7 Gulch, they find Nell lying unconscious on the tracks, with injuries to the face and arm. Nell has saved the valuable goods, and captured the would-be thief, hidden in the coffin, who turns out to be a man wanted by the local mining company for fraud. In the process she has become a hero. "They were saying the kindliest things about her, magnifying her into a heroine, while she [was] lying there with her broken wrist, hurt jaw, and torn ear" (Marchant, 1909: 233) (figure 5.7). Nell's adventures define her rite of passage from girlhood to womanhood. As a girl, and later as a woman, Nell never aspires towards "ladylike" dress or behaviour. At Bratley Junction she thinks nothing of helping the railway guard unload boxes from the train, behaving in a manner that another woman (Miss Simpson, the telegraph operator from New Westminster) condemns as "fearfully unladylike" (Marchant, 1909: 117). Marchant describes Nell as "womanly", using the term as nineteenth-century British critics generally used the term "humanliness". Humanliness, often shortened to manliness, was originally a gender-neutral term describing that which was "best" and most "vigorous" in humans (Vance, 1985: 1). Critics argued about what (hu)manliness was and what it should be, but there was general consensus that it was "a good quality," with "connotations of physical and moral courage and strength and vigorous maturity" (Vance, 1985: 8). Nell conforms to an idea of humanliness that is "counter not so much to womanliness as to effeminacy" (Vance, 1985: 8). Marchant tells the reader that Nell is never effeminate by comparing her, favourably, with women and men who are. Miss Simpson, whom Nell replaces at Bratley Junction, is criticized (by Mrs. Nichols, Nell's landlady) for "frizzing and curling her hair", and (by Nell) for wearing impractical shoes. Nell smiles to herself at the sight of Miss Simpson's "high-heeled, pointed-toed shoes", and walks on in her own "stout foot gear", which is "suitable for country wear" (Marchant, 1909: 119). The railway inspector's assistant, who is afraid of wearing snowshoes and is reluctant to exert himself, is described as "a sickly-looking youth", 1 5 8 too "delicate" to cope with the rugged Canadian west (Marchant, 1909: 117, 171). Nell, in contrast, is neither ladylike nor effeminate. Brought up in the country, possessed of plain looks and "thin muscular arms", she is tough enough to be a settler in western Canada (Marchant, 1909: 21). Living in British Columbia, Nell is transformed from a rough-looking American farm girl to a "well-dressed, eager-faced" Canadian woman (Marchant, 1909: 166). Through her adventures Nell discovers some of the possibilities open to contemporary women, but also some of the limitations. Wounded by the villains, Nell realises that she has over reached herself. Her injuries, sustained during her adventure, leave her without sufficient hearing to continue work as a telegraph clerk. Her recovery is slow, since "the shock and strain of her adventure at Camp's Gulch proves too much for even her intrepid spirit" (Marchant, 1909: 251). What follows is a period of retrenchment, as she renounces some of her adventurous spirit. She goes through a long period of convalescence, as her health slowly returns. Nell's poor hearing is always a reminder that "she had seriously overdone her strength that day" (Marchant, 1909: 348). Unable to continue working as a telegraph clerk, but with a reward from the mining company (for capturing the fraud), and compensation from the railway company (for her partial loss of hearing), Nell finds herself with enough money to begin an education. In her heart, she has always harboured an ambition to become educated, to leave the domestic world behind, and perhaps to enter into some (male-dominated) profession. But, when she consults him for advice, the local doctor advises Nell against pursuing medicine as a career. He tells her, "there is always a crying need for bright capable women in what are mistakenly called the humbler walks of life" (Marchant, 1909: 257). Nell is disappointed, but "she had the common sense to know how truly the doctor had spoken" (Marchant, 1909: 258). Nell "remembered her father's words about seeking Heavenly guidance in the grave decisions of life" (Nell's father had been a 1 5 9 Christian minister) (Marchant, 1909: 259). Nell turns away from adventure and accepts not only the guidance of the doctor, but also that of God. Like Robinson Crusoe, she turns to practical work, and gains knowledge through that work: "she was making great strides in all sorts of knowledge, and learning some of the deep lessons of life, which no books could have taught her" (Marchant, 1909: 287). Unlike Robinson Crusoe, alone on the island, Nell is living in a settlement of both men and women, boys and girls, and she finds a niche within that society. In the settlement, Nell devotes herself to all forms of domestic work, and she gains practical Christian knowledge through her labour. ' She adopts the remaining members of the Lorimer family, recently orphaned, and invests her reward and compensation money in a business, a restaurant for the miners. The restaurant business is to be Nell's niche in that mostly-male mining district of British Columbia. Nell proves herself as a successful businesswoman and domestic hero combined. The settlement, which Nell helps build, grows fast, with the discovery and exploitation of valuable minerals, and with increasing numbers of miners and their families. Just as Nell is transformed from a rough-looking farm girl to a well-dressed, practical woman, the Canadian setting is transformed from an outpost on the edge of the wilderness to a prosperous colonial settlement. Nell's rite of passage, from a restless seventeen-year-old girl to a mature woman who has accepted the virtues of domestic labour, and has no need for adventure, ends when Dick Bronsen, the man Nell first met in the opening scene of Daughters of the Dominion, asks for her hand in marriage. "And so they were betrothed" (Marchant, 1909: 352). •57 About half-way through the story Marchant reflected that Nell "was learning new things, and becoming every day more conscious of the strength that was in her - the power to work, to think, and to act as she had never done before" (Marchant, 1909: 135). 1 6 0 Conclusion Rather than condemning Canadian adventure as masculinist and imperialist, excluding women and settlers, Marchant uses it as narrative space in which to unmap and remap constructions of gender and colonialism. Marchant's adventures, challenging some aspects of adventure, gender and imperialism but reproducing others (they are, for example, still patriotically committed to British-Canadian colonialism) show that unmapping adventure is not the preserve of entirely critical or radical writers, whose "anti-adventures" debunk everything adventure stands for. Marchant stories, on the contrary, use the medium of adventure — move within the narrative spaces of adventure - in order to redefine some (but not all) of the terms on which Britain and British colonies were founded. 1 6 1 CHAPTER SIX CRITICAL ADVENTURE: SAILING OFF THE MAP IN GABRIEL DE FOIGNY'S NEW DISCOVERY OF TERRA INCOGNITA AUSTRALIS Live dangerouslyl Build your cities under Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors...you lovers of knowledge! (Nietzsche, 1954: 97) The image of an adventurer transgressing the boundaries of his or her world, encountering a disturbing inversion or mirror-image of that world, can be subversive, even revolutionary. To explore ways in which adventure can be a form of radical, domestic social critique, I now step out of nineteenth-century Britain, and turn to an earlier tradition of imaginary voyages, including Defoe's Robinson Crusoe  (1719) and Swift's Gulliver's  Travels (1726) but originating in seventeenth-century France. While British writers have produced many critical adventure stories, the most radical and influential imaginary voyages were published in pre-revolutionary France. Both in its general use of imagery and also in its particular images, adventure is peculiarly adaptable to articulating critical politics. Adventure's realistic images are capable of articulating critical ideas that cannot be expressed in more abstract terms, whether because they are not precisely formulated, because they might be censored, or because they would be less readable, therefore less effective in that form. Some of adventure's specific images have particular critical potential. The perilous journey, in which the adventurer violently transgresses the boundaries of his (or her) seemingly-absolute world, finds something on the other side, survives the ordeal and returns to tell the tale, is potentially radical. As a general, mythical image it explores "the margins of the human world" and the "confinements of 1 6 2 Figure 6.1 A  New Discovery of Terra Incognita Australis (1693): title page lend Incognita  Aujiralisy O R T H E i . BY James Sadewr  a French-man. W H O Being itift thereby a Shipwreck, lived 35 years ini that Country, &nd gives a particular Defcription of the Af«tmers,Cuftoms, Religion, Lawt,  Studies , and Wai% of thofc Southern People •, and of fpme immals  pe-culiar to-jhjt Place__: with fevefal other Rk-Thefe Memoirs were tlioughc fo curious, that they were kept Secret  in the Clofetof a hte Great M/nifter  of State,, and never Pubhfhed rill now fmce; his Death. -Tranflated from the French Copy, Printed at Paris, by  Publick Authority. I- Imprimatur, Charles  Hem. London, .Printed for John Duntvn,  at the Raven *... "in the Poultry. 169-3,. : "Wti 1 • . ]iL ^ M l - - - ] - - • 1  n j BM63MMB31—M ^^^ - t -n i rMfT i t 1 6 3 the human situation."1 As a specific, political image it critiques those margins and questions those confinements, establishing the need for violent transgression, on the one hand, and the possibility of some other human condition, on the other. Despite its reputation as a conservative story that reaffirmed rather than challenged British world views, Robinson Crusoe  was in many ways a voice of dissent. Its author was "the next thing to a revolutionary" in early eighteenth-century Britain (Nerlich, 1987: 260). Crusoe's journey leads him out of the contemporary British status quo, though a disorienting storm, into a seemingly uncomplicated, realistic, new world space. The adventure becomes a Utopian comment on, and vision for, Britain. Defoe's adventurer is washed up with clothes, Bible, tools and other fragments of his "civilisation" including a command of the English language (spoken and written) and a petit bourgeois work ethic. Thus he transplants selected elements of Britain to a setting where he can purify and nurture them, free of institutional constraints. His religion, in particular, is purified in the uncomplicated island setting where there is only a man with a Bible, no Church of England. Crusoe is not just a Christian; he is a Dissenter, a radical, anti-establishment Christian. The tradition of critical imaginary voyages was continued rather than begun by Robinson Crusoe, and its origins lie not in Defoe's Britain but in France several generations earlier. French imaginary voyages, written in the second half of the seventeenth century, are the ancestors of critical, realistic adventure stories published in Europe throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Imaginary voyages such as Gabriel de Foigny's New Discovery of 1 Zweig approaches adventure stories, by writers from Melville and Malraux to T.E.Lawrence and Genet, "not as literature, but as cultural myths in which the adventurer appears as a darkly antisocial character, an escape artist from the confinements of the human situation", like Gilgamesh, Odysseus, Herakles and others, who "explored the margins of the human world" (Zweig, 1974: 16) and affirmed "the possibility that mere men can survive the storms of the demonic world" (Zweig, 1974: vii). 1 6 4 Terra Incognita Australis (1676 French, 1693 English) illustrate the innovative use of realistic geographical imagery in general, and perilous journey imagery in particular, as critical devices. Foigny's narrative is the most extreme kind of critical adventure, so it illustrates the devices of critical adventure — devices echoed and copied in later adventure stories — most clearly. Voyages imaginaires: Foigny's Terre  Australe Connue Foigny's New Discovery is a form of voyage imaginaire (an imaginary or extraordinary voyage2), principally an eighteenth-century European3 genre of philosophic adventure novels in realistic settings (Gove, 1941). Foigny's story in particular is important not as a "great" literary work or as enduring cultural myth, but as an influential work, and as one of the foundational and representative imaginary voyages written in early-modern Europe. The philosophic adventure novel in a realistic setting has three principal, relatively discrete literary ancestors, which can broadly be labelled Utopias^ (the critical, philosophical element), travel accounts (the realistic, geographic element) and adventures (elements of physical action, danger, heroism, exotic setting). Generally speaking, earlier adventures and 2 These terms are used interchangeably, by Atkinson (1920), for example. 3 Realistic imaginary voyages were written and published not only in France but also in other European countries, principally England and Germany. Of the 215 eighteenth century imaginary voyages in Gove's annotated bibliography, 67 are English, 65 French, 59 German, 10 Dutch, 5 Danish, 5 Swedish, 2 Italian, 1 Latin, 1 Japanese (Gove, 1941: 176). ^ "The Extraordinary Voyage is a type of novel developed during the 17th century in French Literature. It may be distinguished from other types of novels, such as ... adventurous ... because of its realistic setting in a far-off country and because of its didactic content. It may be distinguished form philosophic works of the Utopia type and from fantastic imaginary voyages to other planets or to non-existent countries because of its geographic realism" (Atkinson, 1920: 162). * The word "utopia," coined by Thomas More in 1516, derives from Greek ou (no) and eu (good) topos (place), meaning "the good place that is nowhere" (Johnson, 1981). 1 6 5 Utopias had been set in mythical spaces, before or after time and outside real geography; adventures had involved journeys without destinations; Utopias had described destinations without journeys. Adventurous journeys and Utopian destinations, grounded in realistic travel and realistic geography, were brought together in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century extraordinary voyages. Realistic settings, which Defoe introduced to English literature in the eighteenth century (Watt, 1951), were already familiar to readers of French literature. The convention of vraisemblance - "probability, or verisimilitude, in fictional works, over unbridled fancifulness" (Dunmore, 1988: 23) — required that settings be plausible to contemporary readers, resembling places they knew first hand and geographies they knew from maps, exploration narratives and other travellers' tales. Extraordinary voyages, like many other realistic adventure stories, were often set in "real" but virtually "unknown" spaces, blank spaces on contemporary European maps. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, no terra incognita on European maps was hazier or larger than Australia so, not surprisingly, Australia was a popular destination for extraordinary voyagers. As one of Foigny's contemporaries explained in 1675, in the introduction to his own imaginary voyage, Among all remote Countries, there is none so little known, and so vast, as the third Continent, commonly called Terra Australis. It is true, Geographers have given some small and unperfect descriptions of it, but it is with little knowledge and certainty; and most of the draughts may be suspected, and look'd upon, as imaginary and fictitious. Sure it is, that there is such a Continent; many have seen it, and even landed there, but few durst venture far in it, if any there were; and I do not think that any body hath made any true description of it, either for want of knowledge, or other necessary means and opportunities. (Vairasse, 1675: A5) Earlier in the century Bishop Hall, a British satirist, commented that Australia was conventionally regarded as real but unknown. In the voice of a would-be adventurer, he reflected that It has always disturbed me to meet constantly with Terra Australis Incognita on geographical maps, and indeed, if there is anyone who is not completely 1 6 6 senseless who would not read this without some silent indignation? For if they know it to be a continent, and a southern one, how can they call it unknown? (Hall, 1609: 11) This "unknown" continent was to serve as the setting of many extraordinary voyages. The "first complete novel of extraordinary voyage" (Atkinson, 1966: 163), also "the most famous of all the fictitious accounts of Australia" (Mackannes, 1937: 156), "the classic imaginary voyage to Terra Australis Incognita" (Moors, 1988: 10), was Foigny's La Terre Australe Connue: C'est-a-dire,  la  description de cepays inconnu jusqu'ici, de  ses moeurs & de ses coutumes. Par  M. Sadeur,  avec  les avantures qui le conduisirent en ce continent, &  les particularity du  sejour qu'ilyfit durant  trente-cinq ans & plus de son retour (1676). A second, shorter edition, published in 1692", was translated into English, with the title, A new discovery of terra incognita Australis, or  the Southern World,  by  James Sadeur, a  French-Man who Being cast there by a Ship Wreck, lived  35 years in that country, and  gives a particular description of the manners, customs,  religion,  laws,  studies, and  wars, of those southern people, and of some animals peculiar to that place (1693) (Berneri, 1950: 189). Sadeur is a hermaphrodite, born at sea, who has many adventures at sea before he is finally shipwrecked and carried by flying monsters to the shores of Australia, a southern Utopia, where he lives for 35 years. The English edition of this story has been described as "the first English printed work in which this continent is distinctly named Australia" and "probably the first in any language in which Australia is made the subject of an imaginary voyage and the scene of a fanciful Utopia" (Blair, 1882: 204).7 0 The 1692 edition was probably the work of the French deist, Francois Raguenet. The elements of the story that I pay greatest attention to in this chapter — the perilous journey and the adventures surrounding Sadeur's arrival in and departure from the broadly-defined Australian Utopia - are essentially the same in the 1676 and 1692/1693 editions. The precise details of the Australian Utopia, which I am less concerned with, were modified by Raguenet. The 1676 edition was translated by Fausett (1993a). 7 Foigny's was the first Utopian extraordinary voyage set in Australia, but not the first Utopia set in Australia, and not the first imaginary voyage to Australia. 1 6 7 Foigny's story was the first and the most sensational story in a genre that continued through the remainder of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and, in a modified (inland) form, even into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The eighteenth century was the golden age of the imaginary voyage (although the literary term "imaginary voyage" was not used before 1741) (Gove, 1941). The most famous examples from Foigny's immediate genre  include The Isle of  the Pines  (1668) by Henry Neville8, The  History of the Sevarites (1675) by Denis Vairasse D'Allais, Daniel Defoe's Robinson  Crusoe  (1719), Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels (1726), Peter Longueville's The  hermit (1727) , Abbe Coyer's A Discovery of  the Island Frivolia  (1750) and anonymous works such as The voyages, travels  and wonderful discoveries of  Captain  John Holmesby (1757). Nineteenth-century descendents — imaginary voyages with (wholly or partially) Australian settings - include Swiss Family Robinson ° Neville's story - "the first Robinsonade" (Moors, 1988: 9) — is set on an island off the coast of Australia. " Summarised in the title, The  History of the Sevarites, or  Sevarambi: a nation inhabiting part of  the third continent, commonly called, Terre Australis Incognitae, with  an account of  their admirable  government, religion,  customs,  and language. Written  by one Captain Siden, a  worthy person, who,  together  with many others, was  cast upon those coasts, and lived  many years in  that country. Published in parts, the first of which appeared in English in 1675, in French in 1677. 1® The explicit title is, The  hermit; or, the  unparalleled sufferings and surprising adventures of  Mr. Philip  Quarll,  an Englishman, who  was lately discovered by Mr. Dorrington, a  Bristol merchant,  upon  an uninhabited island in the south sea; where he has lived about fifty years,  without  any human assistance, still  continues to reside and will  not come away. 1 6 8 (1814)11 and stories set in the Australian interior12 by such writers as Jules Verne ^ , Lady Mary Fox1 4 and Ernest F a v e n c . Foigny (1630-1692) was a self-styled anarchist and a master of geography; his geographically-realistic prose articulated his anarchistic politics. A generally rebellious, Bohemian1" figure, he "led a turbulent and uprooted life...in constant revolt against government, religion, society and their restrictions" (Friederich, 1967: 17). A young, Swiss Family Robinson (1814), one of the most famous of all Robinsonades, is (vaguely) Australian. The Swiss Family Robinsons' island is inhabited by kangaroos, suggesting an Australian location (see Birmingham and Jeans, 1983), although the eclectic geography, flora and fauna of the island do not correspond to any particular "real" geography, as Captain Marryat pointed out in Masterman Ready (1841). Captain Marryat claimed that he wrote Masterman Ready  to correct the geographical, botanical and zoological errors he found in Swiss Family Robinson. He complained of Swiss Family Robinson that "[t]he island is supposed to be far to the southward, near to Van Diemen's Land; yet in these temperate latitudes we have not only plants, but animals introduced, which could only be found in the interior of Africa or the torrid zone, mixed up with those really indigenous to the climate" (Marryat, 1841: vii-viii). 1 2 As the coastline was more accurately mapped, towards the end of the eighteenth century, it became less plausible for adventurers to be shipwrecked and washed up on the coast of a real but unknown Australia, and Utopias of this nature ceased to be written, or their settings were displaced, sometimes to the still-uncharted Australian interior (Gibson, 1984: 8). 1*' Jules Verne's imaginary voyages with (partly) Australian settings include Les Enfants du  Capitaine  Grant  (1867) and 2000 Lieues Sous Les Mers (1870) (see Blair, 1882). 1 4 Lady Mary Fox (Rev. Richard Whately, Archbishop of Dublin) wrote The Account of  an Expedition to  the Interior of  New Holland; The Late Wonderful  Discovery of  a Civilized Nation of  European Origin,  Which  Had, in  so Remarkable a Manner, Been  Kept Separate Hitherto from the  Rest of  the Civilized  World (London: Richard Bentley, 1837). In a realistic exploration narrative, a party set out from Bathurst (interior New South Wales) in 1835 and eventually come across a white, rural society of English extraction, living in isolation and some kind of rural bliss, as they have been doing for the past three centuries. 1^ Ernest Favenc wrote several stories of lost civilisations in the Australian interior, including The  Secret of  the Australian Desert (1896) and Marooned on  Australia (1896b). In the latter he used the wreck of the Batavia and the voyage of Gonneville's Espoir  in 1530 as points of departure for fiction in which shipwrecked sailors find a settlement of light-skinned people who live an idyllic rural lifestyle. 1 6 Atkinson calls him a "ne'er do well" (1920: 48). 1 6 9 defrocked Franciscan monk, he fled from France to Geneva where he became a Protestant. After seducing several servant girls and breaking a promise of marriage in favour of a disreputable widow, he was expelled. Next he became a master of geography in Berne, but this employment did not last long, partly because of his allegedly Papist views, partly because of his drunken behaviour, for which he was dismissed, after vomiting in front of the communion table while conducting a service. Foigny's next and perhaps his most rebellious act was to write Terre Australe Connue,  an assault on patriarchy, Christian doctrine and institutions, absolutist monarchy, and practically every other institution of contemporary France and, more generally, Europe (Atkinson, 1920: 39-40; Berneri, 1950: 184; Moors, 1988: 10). Foigny, in Geneva at the time, was called before "the Venerable Company, created by Calvin as the guardian of the city's morals", which had been informed by two professors of theology that the work was "full of extravagances, falsehoods and even dangerous, infamous and blasphemous things". Foigny denied being the author of the book, but he was found guilty and thrown in jail (Berneri, 1950: 186). '  In his writing, and in the way he lived his life, Foigny was a Nietzschean adventurer, a man who lived dangerously — at war with his peers ~ and sent his fictional hero, Sadeur, off the edges of realistic geography, "into uncharted seas!" A critical image: perilous journey, departure Sadeur's life and his journey begins in Europe, and his story is a comment on Europe. He "was conceived in America and brought forth upon the ocean" (Foigny, 1693: 3), somewhere l/ Similarly, other political rebels wrote extraordinary voyages. Henry Neville, author of The Isle of Pines (1668), was an outspoken critic of Cromwell, and was banished in 1654. Bishop Hall, author of the satirical antecedent of extraordinary voyages, Mundus Alter et Idem (1605) (Mackannes, 1937), had some of his work burned by censors (the Bishop of London and the Archbishop of Canterbury), and he was locked up in the Tower of London, found guilty of High Treason (Wands, 1981). 1 7 0 off the coast of Portugal, and with a French father and Germanic18 mother he, like Foigny, is generically European, not specifically French. To the extent that A New 10 Discovery was a comment on the adventurer's home, it was a comment on Europe generally, not just on France. Perhaps this reflects Foigny's experience of leaving the Franciscans for Protestantism, and France for Switzerland, but finding that he had exchanged one set of repressive European institutions for another. As a political statement, then, A New Discovery should be interpreted generally rather than specifically, and the context in which it was written and published should be sketched at an equally general level. At a general level, It Foigny lived under monarchy (including absolutist monarchy in France^A), patriarchy and Church, and he felt oppressed by all of them. Judging by the hostile receptions he received when he broke society's moral codes (frequently) and when he attempted to express his political opinions (in A New Discovery, for example), he had some justification in feeling oppressed. His sensitivity to the injustices of the institutions that bound him was partly a reflection of those institutions, but partly also a reflection of his time, the age of Enlightenment, in which Europeans were questioning the authority of many of their 11 institutions and rulers. A New Discovery, like many other imaginary voyages , was a 18 AO Willametta Inn is his mother's name. *" Foigny was a Huguenot refugee, persecuted in France for his Protestantism (Fausett, 1993: 130; Fausett, 1993b). 2" Extraordinary voyages tend to lead double lives, as comments on Europe, on the one hand, and as comments on their settings, on the other. Most could be read in both ways. For example, although Voyage de Robertson awe Terres Australes (anon., 1767) was intended as an attack on the French government, it is also "supposed to have inspired William Perm to found an ideal settlement in North America" (Moors, 1988: 13). While the domestic and imperial aspects of adventure cannot be clearly separated, Foigny's unknown Australia was primarily concerned with domestic politics. 21 Garagnon (1981) interprets French imaginary voyages as part of an intellectual movement against that absolutist monarchy. 22 The History of the Sevarites, for example, "rejects most of what France had stood for from the Huguenot Wars to Louis XIV, and announces instead the dawn of the eighteenth-century Enlightenment and nineteenth-century Liberalism (Friederich, 1967: 22). 1 7 1 sweeping Enlightenment vision of a brave new world, written from somewhere near the heart of the broadly-defined ancien  regime. Foigny's critique of contemporary Europe was diffuse, and it was articulated in a suitably general image, an image of departure, in which a solitary adventurer leaves Europe completely behind him. From the moment he is born — at sea, away from civilisation — James Sadeur is an anti-social figure, destined to wander outside society. The death of his parents, which occurs while he is still a baby and before he has reached dry land, seals his fate as a solitary wanderer. Born a hermaphrodite, "he" soon finds that there is no place for him in European society, with its inflexibly gender-divided roles and its brutal sexual phobias. As a baby, orphaned at sea, Sadeur's "matron" loses interest in caring for him when "she found I was of two sexes", and soon she "conceiv'd such as aversion for me, that it was a trouble to her look upon me" (Foigny, 1693: 10). Since everyone in Europe must become a man or a woman, he arbitrarily becomes a man, with a man's clothes, a man's name, and a man's pronouns. Out of place in Europe, he seems to belong more in a (contemporary) travellers' tale — in which hermaphrodites are relatively common — and that is where fate takes him, despite his initial refusal of the "call to adventure". J  Sadeur's first storm and shipwreck ends in his deliverance into the world. His next sea journey is ended not by a storm, but by a Portuguese cannon ball, although Sadeur floats to safety in his cradle, and is taken on board the Portuguese ship. Several years later, when he is a prisoner on board a pirate ship it began to blow terribly, and became so tempestuous that the Master pilots despaired of escaping; the Mast of our vessel broke, the rudder split, the ship leak'd on all sides, and we endured 24 hours the mercy of the waves. (Foigny, 1693: 17). 2^ Joseph Campbell (1968) lists the "refusal of the call" to adventure as one of the stock elements of adventure stories and myths. When Sadeur initially tries to avoid adventure, he fails. For example, in order to avoid a sea voyage, as a child, he travels overland, but is captured by pirates who have come ashore, and who take him to sea. 172 Once more Sadeur is saved. This time a Portuguese merchant ship finds him clinging to a floating plank of wood. Each of Sadeur's three early shipwrecks act as critical moments in his life, rite of passage in which he is violently removed from one condition, one chapter of his life story, and delivered into another. In this respect, Sadeur's early storms and shipwrecks prefigure his principal adventure, involving storms, shipwrecks and flying monsters, in which he finally, violently leaves all things European behind him. Sadeur is on board a Portuguese merchant ship, within sight of a port on the coast of Madagascar, when "an east wind so furiously tost the sea, and drove us with that impetuosity that it broke our cordage, and drove us above a thousand leagues to the west" (Foigny, 1693: 32). When his ship breaks in two, Sadeur catches a light plank and drifts alone, becoming disoriented. The waves did so often plunge me under, and overturn me, that tho I held out as along as I could, yet at last I lost both knowledge and thinking, and truly I know not what became of me, nor by what means I was preserved from death; I only remember that coming to my self I opened my eyes and found a calm sea, I perceived an isle very near (Foigny, 1693: 33). In most contemporaneous extraordinary voyages, the storm marks the traveller's passage from Europe to the other world, commonly a Utopian or dystopian world. But for Sadeur, even after he has dragged himself onto the island and recovered, the ordeal is not over. Climbing a tree to get a view of the island, he encounters two "prodigious flying beasts" and a pack of other wild beasts, all of which chase him back into the ocean. After drifting further on his plank, Sadeur finally arrives on another island, which he calculates to be 35 degrees south latitude. Again, he is attacked by beasts, and is "all bloody" when two of the "great birds" appear, cutting him with their talons, before "one of them seized me between her two 2 4 Although the coast of Africa is less than 1000 leagues west of Madagascar, so if Sadeur was travelling due west he would have run aground and into the African interior. 2$ Fausett (1993: 131) interprets the image of Sadeur floating on a plank as a parody of Christ's crucifixion. 1 7 3 feet and lifted me up very high in the air" (Foigny, 1693: 41). Sadeur is not defeated. He fights the giant bird, tearing its eyes out with his teeth, and causing it to plunge into the water. The storm, the shipwreck and the encounter with flying beasts are images of crisis, of disorienting, violent, prolonged and painful departure. In the painful and disorienting journey, all the traveller can do is abandon himself to the storm, attempting to stay afloat and alive. He survives, but he is barely alive and he has lost the last traces of his old civilization — his clothes. He leaves Europe completely behind (or so it seems). Foigny used the image of a long and perilous journey, initially resisted by the adventurer, to suggest a difficult but necessary abandonment of the contemporary European status quo. Transgressing the spatial boundaries of Europe, leaving Europe completely behind him, Sadeur transgresses the institutional boundaries of contemporary Europe, with their often-arbitrary social and moral codes. Foigny's image of a disorienting and violent storm was a familiar literary image in early-modern Europe, an image of crisis. Some used the storm image as a warning of something that is best avoided. Edmund Burke, for example, was later to warn against the storm-like Revolution the French had experienced. " But Foigny presented the storm as inevitable, a difficult but necessary departure. In the storm-like crisis there was also opportunity to surface somewhere else, to invent something else. Literary critic George Landow generalises that the "situation of crisis creates or generates an entirely new imaginative cosmos for those who experience it" (Landow, 1982: 5). Since the new z" In Reflections on the Revolution in France, he "warned that v when ancient opinions and rules of life are taken away, the loss cannot possibly be estimated. From that moment we have no compass to govern us; nor can we know distinctly to what port we steer'" (Landow, 1982: 65). 1 7 4 imaginative cosmos was unknown, Sadeur's adventure is primarily a journey from somewhere, not a journey to somewhere. It is a desperate leap into the unknown. ' Sadeur's perilous journey is broadly realistic, and its realism serves to naturalise the author's anarchistic politics. Much of what happens in A New Discovery may appear fantastic to the modern reader, but by seventeenth century standards it was realistic (Moors, 1988). Unlike truly fantastic extraordinary voyages such as Savinien's Comical History of the States and Empires of the World of the Moon (1687) , in which an adventurer travels between France, New France (Quebec) and the Moon in a home-made, dew-powered machine, there is nothing in Foigny's tale of pirates, storms and shipwrecks, flying beasts and hermaphrodites, that readers of ostensibly non-fiction, "realistic" travel writing were not already accustomed to. Hermaphrodite nations were "common rarities" in medieval travellers tales and in imaginary voyages, and their existence had yet to be disproven. The "Ruk" or giant flying bird survived from medieval travel tales and legends into the seventeenth century. " Another imaginary voyage writer, unusually explicit about his (and Foigny's) reasons for using realistic images, explained that his story "promises Amusement; it has all the ravishing Airs, and all the delightful Graces of a highly finished Romance; but at the same Time it is a severe and judicious Criticism, upon the almost innumerable Follies of the present Age" 2 7 Similarly, Savinien's (1687: 13) imaginary voyage to the moon begins with an imaginative leap that at first seems insane, a leap out of the status quo of contemporary Europe. "After these sudden starts of imagination, which may be termed, perhaps, the ravings of a violent Feaver, I began to conceive some hopes of succeeding in so fair a voyage... For in good earnest, how can it be imagined, that such spacious Globes are no more but vast Desarts; and that ours, because we live in it, hath been framed for the habitation of a dozen of proud Dandyprats?" 2° A translation of Histoire des Etats et Empires du Soleil (1662). ^ An engraving of Magellan in the Austral Sea, which originally appeared in De Bry's Long and Short Voyages, shows a giant flying bird holding an elephant in its talons (Atkinson, 1920: 50; Moors, 1988: 10). 1 7 5 (Coyer, 1750: iv). Foigny's realistic images naturalised the anarchistic politics they coded, making those politics seems possible and plausible, and disguising iconology as fact. Critical, realistic geography: a hazy outline and an unknown interior While Foigny coded and naturalised his revolutionary politics in realistic images of a perilous journey, he coded his hopes for a different, better, post-revolutionary state in realistic images of Australia. When Sadeur is finally spotted by Australian guards, patrolling their coastline in a small boat, he is barely alive. His body is torn and bloody, and his clothes have all been shredded and ripped off. Disoriented and vulnerable, he represents humanity in a state of crisis, lost enough to emerge in some previously unknown space. All this works to his advantage. A naked hermaphrodite, arriving in a nation of naked hermaphrodites, and displaying great courage in the process, Sadeur is given medical treatment, fed, rowed to shore, and welcomed to Australia as a brother. "I was in this country, and amongst these new faces, like a man fallen from the clouds" (Foigny, 1693: 48). So, after his perilous adventure, the lost traveller finds that he has, indeed, been cast into "an entirely new imaginative cosmos" (Landow, 1982: 5). 3® Similarly, in The History of the Sevarites, after "one particular wind ... drove us to the Southward", and only when "we [did] think ourselves absolutely lost", the boat struck a new land (Vairasse, 1675: 10-12). Later "we saw that our vessel stuck upon a Bank near the shore of a great Island or Continent. The discovery of this Land turned our despair into hopes, for although it was unknown to us, and we could not tell what good or bad fortune we should have in it: Yet any Land was then welcome to men who had during many days been so miserably tossed upon the water betwixt life and death, hopes and despair" (Vairasse, 1675: 10-12). 1 7 6 The realistic geographical imagery of Sadeur's journey continues when he arrives in Terra -j- i Incognita Australis.x Sadeur sets out the broad outlines of Australia, which he says is approximately 3,000 leagues in length and 500 in width. I have here ... set down the best account of the Australian Territories  that I could get either by the relations of others, or cou'd describe according to the Meridian of Ptolemy. It begins in the three hundred and fortieth Meridian, towards the fifty second degree of Southern Elevation, it advances on the side of the Line, in forty Meridians, until it comes to the fortieth degree. The whole Land is called Hust: The Land continues in this elevation, about 15 degrees, and they call it Hube; from the fifteenth Meridian the Sea gains, and sinks by little and little into twenty five Meridians, until it comes to the fifty first degree. And all on the western side is called Hump: The Sea makes a very considerable Gulph there, which they call Ilab: The Earth afterwards falls back towards the Line, and in four Meridians advances unto the two and fortieth degree and a half; and this Eastern side is called Hue: The Earth continues in this elevation about thirty six Meridians, which they call Huod; after this long extent of Earth, the Sea regains, and advances unto the forty-ninth degree, in three Meridians, and having made a kind of a semicircle in five Meridians, the Earth returns and goes on unto the thirtieth degree, in six Meridians, and this Western side is called Huge. The bottom of the Gulph Pug, and the other side Pur; the Land continues about 34 Meridians, almost in the same elevation, and that is call'd the Land of Sub, after which the Sea rises, and seems to become higher than ordinary, wholly overflowing the Earth, and falls again by little and little towards the Pole, the Earth by degrees giving way unto the sixtyieth [sic] Meridian, on this side are the Countries of Hulg, Pulg,  and Mulg; towards the fifty fourth degree of elevation, appears the mouth of the River Sulm, which makes a very considerable Gulph.... Thus the Australian Territories contain twenty seven different Countries, which are all very considerable, and are altogether about three thousand Leagues in length, and four or five hundred in breadth. (Foigny, 1693: 48-51) Sadeur's description echoes both the style and the content of contemporary geographies. The style is plain, Sadeur tirelessly listing geographic details until the reader is wearied into believing them. The content of Sadeur's description is in broad agreement with contemporary geographies of Australia, which were still very sketchy. Throughout the seventeenth century, Australia was little more than the generalised and incomplete outline of a huge continent, both on most maps and also in the geographical imaginations of most Europeans. The -*1 Specifically, Foigny's geographical sources included two cosmographies by Gaston Jean-Baptiste, Baron de Renty, published in Paris in 1645 and 1657 (Fausett, 1993). 1 7 7 Australian coast was not accurately and systematically charted until after Foigny's story was published. During the seventeenth century a number of Dutch33 navigators encountered Australian coastal waters, and some of their experiences were published and/or incorporated into contemporary maps, consolidating the popular image of Australia as a large but mostly unknown land. That general image dated back to at least the second century A.D., when Ptolemy suggested the existence of a vast southern continent (Gerrard, 1988), and it was reinforced by medieval travellers' tales and legends34, then by uncertain French and "secret" Portuguese "discoveries" of (what became) coastal Australia (Cowley, 1988). The first relatively formal narratives of "Australian" exploration were Spanish, published in the first two decades of the seventeenth century, although their author mistook the New Hebrides for •is Australia, and only described limited areas, nothing like a whole continent. So when the Jid At the very end of the seventeenth century English navigator William Dampier's popular Australian exploration narrative was published. The Australian coast remained a vague outline until the latter part of the eighteenth century when, beginning with Cook's first Australian voyage in 1770, and continuing with a sequence of French and (mostly) English navigators, including George Bass, Matthew Flinders, and Philip Parker King, it was accurately and systematically charted. 3 3 Willem Jansz, 1605, was the first European to reach coast of Australia and document the encounter; he left a map but no journal. In 1616, Dick Hartog reached the west coast of Australia. The only evidence of his voyage was a pewter plate he left there. In 1623 Jan Carstensz's second ship reached (what is now) Arnhem land, but the journal of that voyage was lost and the findings were not incorporated into maps until after 1642. Francois Pelsaert commanded The Batavia, which was wrecked off Australia's west coast in 1629, and suffered a bloody mutiny, described by Pelsaert in a narrative published in 1647. Abel Tasman sighted (what he named) Van Diemen's Land and Staten Land (the South Island of New Zealand) in 1642, when his findings were added to contemporary maps. Written accounts of Tasman's journey were not published until 1671 in Dutch, 1682 in English (Cowley, 1988). 3 4 Including Sinbad the Sailor, Marco Polo and Friar Odoric (Gibson, 1984; Johnson, 1981). 3^ The first convincing European "discovery" of (part of what is now) Australia was that of the Spaniard, Luis Van de Torres, in 1595, on an expedition led by Pedro Fernandes de Queiros, who reached the New Hebrides, which he took for Australia. Queiros published details of his travels in "memorials" published between 1607 and 1617. 1 7 8 Dutch began to chart the coast of Australia later in the same century, they were charting a coast that was virtually unknown to most of their fellow Europeans. Foigny used unknown Australia — its mostly-unknown coast and its almost-entirely-unknown interior'" — as carte blanche in which anything was possible. He wrote as if Sadeur were the first European to encounter Australia and live to tell the tale. Earlier travellers, he claimed, "have either been lost in their voyage, or have been killed by the inhabitants of the country after they had entered it" (Foigny, 1693: A2). He dismissed the reports of earlier travellers, from Magellan and Marco Polo to Queiros. "Tis therefore to our Sadeur, whose relation here follows, that we are wholly obliged for the Discovery of this before unknown country" (Foigny, 1693: A2). This gave Foigny complete freedom to invent Australia out of the open space framed by an incomplete and hazy outline. He extends realistic travel and realistic geography into the Australian interior, seamlessly blending received geographic "facts" with his own speculations, and maintaining his plain, realistic, descriptive style throughout. But Foigny's Australia is never very real. It is completely uniform in topography and soil fertility, as in everything else. "This great country is plain, without forests, marshes, or desarts [sic],  and equally inhabited throughout" (Foigny, 1693: 59). There are no seasons, no clouds and no rainfall, although rivers ensure a sufficient water supply. In Foigny's Australia "there is neither flyes [sic],  nor caterpillars, nor any other insect. There's neither spider, nor serpent, nor any venomous beast to be seen" (Foigny, 1693: 62). Human settlement is uniform and symmetrically ordered, as are languages, customs and buildings. Sadeur learns some of this from what he sees, but more from what he hears, and his **" Although there were speculations about the richness of the interior. Foigny may have been "inspired by the Relation of Ferdinand de Quiros to the King of Spain" which stated that Australia was "more fertile and populous" than any European country, its inhabitants "much bigger and taller than the Europeans" (Berneri, 1950: 190). 179 descriptions reflect that detachment. He describes Australia with grand perspective, as if from a great height. Mainly, Foigny's Australia is a conceptual space in which to imagine a possible world. A very abstract geography, it has more in common with the isotropic plains of twentieth-century spatial-scientific geographers like Walter Christaller ("central place" theory of retail centres) and Alfred Weber (industrial location theory) than it does with any recognisably or plausibly real geography. '  Away from the cluttered realities of contemporary European geography, in the seemingly uncomplicated carte  blanche of the Australian interior, Foigny is able to make his sweepingly rational, logically ordered Utopia appear plausible. ° Foigny's vision of Australia is more precise in its general principles than in its geographic and political details, but the principles themselves are often fuzzy. In general, Australia is a rational and a free society, ordered but not ruled. " An old man tells Sadeur that "it was the Nature of Man to be born and live free", so "one man could not be born for the service of another man". Liberty in Australia is based on an "adherence to strict Reason" (Foigny, 1693: 77). Australia is governed by order and reason, not by formal authorities such as the oppressive, cumbersome institutions of monarchies and Churches that govern Europe. At a general level, but not in its precise details, Foigny's Australia has much in common with the i l Christaller and Weber imagined simplified spaces uniformly populated by "economic" men, whose locational decisions regarding the service centres they patronise and the places they choose for their manufacturing businesses, are based on a desire to minimise transport costs (Weber, 1929). 3° Christaller and Weber, attempting similar things in the twentieth century, when almost all the white space on European maps was filled in with detail, had to retreat to purely imaginary geographies. ^ Foigny does not dwell upon the possible tensions between rationality, order and freedom, although he does suggest some of the contradictions of Australian Utopia, through the series of events that lead to Sadeur's departure, outlined below. 180 Utopias of other seventeenth- and eighteenth-century European imaginary voyages. u And it is at this general level that Foigny's Utopia should be interpreted, as a sometimes-blurred vision of a distant, Utopian state. Setting his story mainly in Australia, Foigny spatially displaced his critique of Europe, disguising it from those who would censor and/or punish more direct criticism. * As in all adventure stories, little is said of the adventurer's home, although everything that happens and everywhere the adventurer goes is to some extent a comment on that place. The perilous journey is an act of leaving home, and Australia is defined in relation to that home. The rationality of Australia is contrasted to the irrationality of Europe. In the rational light of Australia, for example, Sadeur could see that there was no reasonable basis for the subjection of women and children to men in Europe. "I found my self forc'd to believe that this great power which man had usurped over woman, was rather the effect of an odious tyranny, than a legitimate authority" (Foigny, 1693: 72). Questioning the authority of "the father" (Foigny, 1693: 71), and imagining a society without gender divisions of any kind — a society in which reproduction was a purely personal, private act, and in which domestic labour was eliminated by communal living and by a diet of fresh, uncooked fruit - Foigny took a broad swipe at European patriarchy. He also attacked European religious institutions, by showing how Australian morals were "inspir'd by the light of Nature and Reason" (Foigny, 1693: 73), and how Australian religion was a purely personal matter, how religious beliefs were left 4U Partly for this reason, but also because the adventure story is suspended while Foigny recounts what he is told of the Australian Utopia, I do not focus upon the details of this particular Utopia in much detail. **• Like Foigny, Vairasse and others wrote extraordinary voyages when freedom of expression was severely limited in France and other European countries. Henry Neville, for example, turned from writing explicit, specific political pamphlets to writing an extraordinary voyage — The Isle of Pines — when, after the restoration of the Stuart monarchy, he could no longer get away with overtly radical political expression. 1 8 1 unspoken. An old man tells Sadeur that "'tis most certain that Men cannot speak of anything that's incomprehensible, without having divers Opinions of it" (Foigny, 1693: 82). Sadeur's return When Sadeur arrives in Utopia his perilous journey and his life of adventure seem to end. He gets into long conversations about life in Utopia, and learns through what he is told more than through what he does. There seems little potential for action in a place where everything is so tunelessly, drearily perfect. Foigny fails to blend the adventure with the Utopia, and it is only when Sadeur begins to detect flaws in Utopia that his adventure is able to continue and, finally, he is able to return to Europe. Despite his initial impression that Australia is "a perfect image of the state that man at first enjoyed in paradise" (Foigny, 1693: 76), Sadeur gradually notices flaws in Utopia, including vicious urgs (flying beasts) that Australians cannot control (despite their attempts to eradicate urg habitats), and warring Fondins (neighboring tribes) that disturb the Australian Utopia and lead the Australians to acts of rational but brutal violence. It is only because of these flaws that Sadeur is able to have any adventure at all in Australia. The flaws bring Sadeur there in the first place (urgs), lead to his rare adventures while in Australia (intolerance of his compassion towards, and sexual interest in, Fondins) and facilitate his eventual departure (by urg). Even in Australia, the land of hermaphrodites, Sadeur is out of place, partly because he retains something of the old order; rationality has not entirely taken him over, and he remains capable of showing both compassion (towards Fondins — enemies whom the Australians kill) and passion (towards a young Fondin woman). While Sadeur is a hermaphrodite, like the Australians, he is also a passionate human being, unlike them. Sadeur has been told that Australians "live without being sensible of any of these animal ardours for another, and we cannot bear them spoken of without horror" (Foigny, 1693: 70). 182 But one day "the extraordinary caresses of the brethren caused some unruly motions in me, which some of them perceiving, were so very much scandaliz'd at it, that they left me with great indignation" (Foigny, 1693: 85). Sadeur's sexuality finally led to his downfall when, during a war with the Fondins, he met a young woman whom he "grasped affectionately," only to be caught in the act by some Australians. He was imprisoned and later sentenced to death, but managed to escape by urg. His demise, he concluded, was caused by "the incompatibility of the Australians, with the people of Europe" (Foigny, 1693: 166). Perhaps Foigny was suggesting that enforced rationality would imprison the human spirit in the future, just as institutions of Church and monarchy had, in the past and the present. Or perhaps he just wanted to restart the adventure that had stalled in Utopia, and could only do so by finding flaws and contradictions there. Sadeur's eventual departure is abrupt and not very convincingly explained, but it is a necessary part of the story since it enables the "editor" to claim the story is true. Foigny's adventure was presented as genuine memoirs, which were "thought so curious, that they were kept secret in the closet of a late great minister of state, and never published till now since his death" (Foigny, 1693: title page). He concludes, "these are the contents of Sadeur's memoirs written with his own hand" (Foigny, 1693: 186). Thus he is able to disclaim authorship, hence to distance himself from the subversive act of writing political criticism. **z In a similarly abrupt and inexplicable manner, Captain Siden, in The History of the Sevarites, seeks permission to return to his wife in Europe although he leaves three wives and many children in Australia. 43 This was a standard claim. Longueville (1727: v), for example, claimed that "tho this surprising Narrative be not so replete with vulgar stories as [Robinson Crusoe],  or so interspersed with a satirical vein, as [Gulliver's Travels];  yet it is certainly of more Use of the publick, than either of them, because every Incident, herein related, is real Matter of Fact." 1 8 3 These were standard tactics of the imaginary voyage writer, as were attempts to preserve anonymity and to conceal details regarding places of publication and printers, by issuing books with false imprints, for example. Terre  Australe Connue  originally appeared under the false imprint4" of Vannes, France, with the false publisher, Jacques Verneuil. In some cases writers and publishers were successful in concealing their identities, although Foigny's 47 rather half-hearted efforts*  — perhaps he was parodying rather than following the convention — did not fool many people in Geneva, where he and his printer were soon identified (Berneri, 1950: 186). Nevertheless most imaginary voyages - even Foigny's -were received as true stories by at least some of their readers. 4 Similarly, Longueville claimed that his "Share in this Work, is no other than a bare editor" (Longueville, 1727: v). He claims to have received the manuscript from Mr. Dorrington, an eminent merchant. And The Isle of Pines was attributed to Henry Cornelius Van Sloetten, who described his voyage in a letter sent to a friend in London (Neville, 1668: 5). 4 5 Other attempts to disguise publication details include false claims regarding translation. For example, A Discovery of the Island of Frivolia (Coyer, 1750) was identified as a translation into English, although the original (1750) edition was in English, while the French edition (1751) was translated from English (Dunmore, 1988: 23). 4" Similarly, Bishop Hall was careful to conceal his identity as author of Mundus, using a false "Frankfort" imprint to deflect speculation away from England. 4 7 Compared to others, Foigny was a little tongue-in-cheek in his truth claims. Vairasse, for example, soberly presented "very strong Arguments to establish the truth of this History, since they agree so well with the History itself in all the circumstances of Time, Place, and Person, and are attested by so many credible witnesses, which are yet alive, for the most part, and who are living in several places, not knowing one another, and having no interest in the publishing of this story, cannot rationally be suspected,to have all joined together to give credit to a Fictitious Narration" (Vairasse, 1675: A3). He continued, "There are many, who having read Plato's Commonwealth,  Sir Thomas More's Utopia,  the Lord Verulam's New Atlantis, (which are but ideas and ingenious fancies) are apt to suspect all relations of new discoveries to be of that kind; and chiefly when they find in them anything extraordinary and wonderful" (Vairasse, 1675: A3). Vairasse distanced his narrative from other Utopias and adventures that were presented as factual but generally known to be fictitious, and he was quite successful in this, as The History of the Sevarites was generally received as a true story (Atkinson, 1920: 92). 1 8 4 When political criticism is articulated in the form of imaginary voyages it tends to reach broad audiences, people who are more likely to read lively, sensational stories like Foigny's than abstract political pamphlets. This ensures commercial success, on the one hand, and the possibility of political effectiveness, on the other, and both prospects appealed to Foigny, who wrote A New Discovery  partly to make money and partly to voice his political views. Since the publication of Foigny's story (like other extraordinary voyages) was shrouded in secrecy, it is difficult to trace its publishing history — numbers of copies printed and sold, for example — although the reprints and translation qualify it as something of a success, as do reports that it "caused an immediate sensation" when it was published (Atkinson, 1920: 90). It therefore had the potential to reach relatively wide audiences, although the question of what they made of such a sensational, ambiguous, diffuse narrative is not easy to answer. Conclusion Foigny's imaginary voyage illustrates some of the ways in which adventure stories can articulate broadly critical politics. Unlike pure Utopias, relatively static descriptions of other worlds, Foigny's combination of adventure and Utopia illustrates the process that Europeans would have to go through before they could reach Utopia. Foigny suggests nothing less than long and bloody revolution, in which not even language would survive. Coding his suggestion in figurative imagery rather than more precise, abstract language, he asserts a vaguely-formulated, diffusely rebellious, ambiguous politics. Grounding his suggestion in 4^ One writer stated in the preface to his extraordinary voyage that "my countrymen ... are ever delighted with strange accounts of other Countries, and purchase no books more than those upon such Subjects"; he claims that "the Truths I relate are as surprising as the Fictions which are all the reigning Taste" (Holmesby, 1757: 82-83). ^ Imaginary voyages were widely read (by contemporary standards), judging by the numbers of translations, reprintings and editions they went through. The History of the Sevarites, for example, was reprinted in English, French, Dutch and Italian (Atkinson, 1920). 1 8 5 realistic imagery, drawn from contemporary travel narratives and geographies, he naturalises his story, making it seem plausible. Realistic geographical images, he knows, are not as innocent as they appear. Bishop Hall, an earlier seventeenth-century satirist, had shown that realistic geography, however naively conceived and/or uncritically recorded, was never innocent. The geographer and narrator of Mundus Alter et Idem (1605), an antecedent of the imaginary voyages that were written later in the century, is Mercurius Britannicus, literally a British Mercury — messenger and deceiver — whose naturalistic geographical descriptions are sometimes naive but never "factual" or politically innocent. Similarly, Foigny's realistic geographical images are neither naive nor innocent. Foigny has many descendents in modern adventure stories, few as radical as he, although most retain some of the radical edge of adventure he presented in A New Discovery. Most immediately, Robinson Crusoe  follows the narrative form and some of the politics of imaginary voyages like Foigny's, although in comparison to Foigny Defoe was a moderate. Robinson Crusoe's journey is less perilous and less drawn-out than Sadeur's, and seem to suggest less-fhan-bloody revolution. Unlike Sadeur who is rescued naked and destitute, Crusoe is washed up with clothes, Bible and other elements of his European past. Unlike Sadeur, who learns the language of Australia (in five months he can communicate), Crusoe maintains his native English, writing English in his diary and teaching English to Friday. Unlike Sadeur, Crusoe does not leave Europe completely behind. In early eighteenth-century England, then, Robinson Crusoe  displayed some of the critical edge of adventure that was demonstrated, perhaps caricatured, by Foigny a generation earlier. While this critical attitude was largely lost in nineteenth-century retellings of the Robinson Crusoe  story, adventures that mapped rather than unmapped, it remains as a possibility, whether an undercurrent or an over-riding theme, of all adventures, Robinson Crusoe  included. 1 8 6 CHAPTER SEVEN UNMAPPING ADVENTURES: POST-COLONIAL ROBINSONS AND ROBINSONADES Adventures not only map, they can also unmap geographical and social worlds. Metaphorically, unmapping can mean denaturalising social constructs such as gender that are naturalised in the realistic spaces of adventure. More literally, unmapping can mean denaturalising the realistic geography itself, undermining the world view that rests upon it. Critical adventures, like their more conservative counterparts, are capable of reaching broad audiences and making an impression on popular readerships, packaging powerful political and geographical messages in an appealing, readable narrative form. Responding to the strong tradition of Robinsons and Robinsonades, particularly those published in Britain in the nineteenth century, which mapped a conservatively masculinist, racist, imperialist world view, there has emerged a counter-tradition of critical Robinsons and Robinsonades. Anti-colonial and post-colonial writers, from Defoe's contemporary Jonathan Swift (in Britain/Ireland) to post-war figures such as William Golding (Britain), Sam Selvon (Trinidad/Britain/Canada), Michel Tournier (France) and J.M. Coetzee (South Africa), have all opposed Defoe's imperialism(s) in critical Robinsons and Robinsonades. In Lord of the Flies (1954) Golding re-entered the narrative space of Ballantyne's Robinsonade, The  Coral Island, subverting the story and unmapping its vision of British manliness. Lord of the Flies is post-colonial in the limited, historical sense that it was written when the British Empire was in decline, and it was partly a response to that decline, a re-evaluation of what it meant to be (white, male and) British. Other critical adventure stories, more actively post-colonial, oppose colonialism and struggle to erase its legacies. Selvon, Tournier and Coetzee re-enter the narrative space of Robinson Crusoe  but, rather than contesting what was constructed 187 within that space, they unmap the space itself, destablising the terrain on which its particular masculinist, racist, imperialist vision was constructed. Although critical Robinsons and Robinsonades have been called "anti-adventures," they are forms of adventure story and they illustrate the critical potential of all adventures to define spaces in which to imagine, invent and reinvent worlds. Critical adventures, by definition, break with some of the traditions and some of the politics of predecessors in their medium. Robinson Crusoe,  itself a critical adventure, which asserted a radically bourgeois,  dissenting vision, broke with so many traditions of adventure that critics and readers argued — and continue to argue - about whether it is an adventure at all. But Defoe maintained other elements of more traditional adventure - including the general narrative and geography of "civilised" home and "uncivilised" terra incognita,  divided by perilous journeys — and harnessed them to his critical project. Critics of Robinson Crusoe,  in turn, have retold the story, abandoning some of its elements but maintaining others. As a result, critical Robinsons are not quite the same as the adventure stories people are accustomed to, so they are labelled "anti-adventures", for example by Green (1990), who argues that they are written "against the grain" of adventure. But to classify adventures into conservative "adventures" and critical "anti-adventures", as Green does, is to obscure something of what all adventures — including Robinsons and Robinsonades — are, and to represent adventures as more conservative and politically limited than they are. Adventure stories have been unmapped in a range of different media including critical adventure stories, in which critique is presented in accessible, relatively traditional stories. In this form critical arguments are more accessible and therefore reach broader audiences, making them more effective than they would be in less popular works such as academic monologues and experimental literature. Academic critics and avant-garde novelists may 188 subvert adventure stories and comment on adventure stories, but they speak to relatively small audiences, sometimes just to each other. Among the first critics of Robinson Crusoe, for example, was Defoe himself. Defoe commented on his own adventure story in the second and third volumes of Robinson Crusoe.  In volume two, The Farther Adventures of Robinson Crusoe (1719), the island Utopia, ceded to a party of mutineers, falls into a dystopian state. In volume three, Serious Reflections During the Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe (1720), Defoe reflected upon his realistic style and qualified his own truth claims. He was so self-critical that he would probably have undermined his own story had he succeeded in engaging the general reading public as he had in volume one. But as he ceased to tell a story, and began to comment on it, Defoe lost his readers' attention and, at the same time, he lost his power to map and/or unmap. Other writers fail to unmap popular geographies because they, too, stray too far from the traditional narrative forms of adventure. Robert Kroetsch, for example, commented on western Canadian quest adventures in his esoteric novel Badlands (1975). In Kroetsch's story a questor's daughter unwrites and unmaps his quest by retracing his steps, drunkenly shredding his journal and undermining its authority. But Kroetsch's critically-acclaimed novel made a bigger impression on students of Canadian literature than consumers of popular culture. Critical adventure stories, like all adventure stories, are first and foremost stories; the story carries the criticism rather than vice versa. The critical adventures that make the biggest impression on popular audiences, and therefore map and/or unmap most effectively, are the ones that tell a story that is gripping enough to * In western Canada, twentieth-century writers have struggled with the legacy of adventure stories, which mapped a remote, frozen space of adventure. Adventure stories, from exploration and travel narratives such as The Journals of Samuel Hearne and The North-West Passage By Land to boys' adventures like The Young Fur Traders, defined western Canada as frozen, romantic space. In Badlands Kroetsch unmaps the Albertan geography inscribed in the field note book and maps of a fictional adventurer, a man who embarked upon a quest into the interior of Alberta's Badlands in search of dinosaur bones. Badlands is a dual narrative, the journal of the Dawe Expedition, on the one hand, and the story of Anna Dawe, retracing her father's journey, on the other. Whereas Dawe's original narrative writes a journey into the interior, mapping its geography, his daughter's narrative unwrites that journey, unmaps its geography. 189 hold the attention of readers who may or may not be aware of and/or interested in the author's specific literary and political references. In Lord of  the Flies, for example, Golding showed that one way of negotiating what an adventure story has mapped, one way of questioning its values and denaturalising its world view, is to write another adventure story. Returning to Ballantyne's island: unmapping manliness William Golding returned to the island setting of Ballantyne's Robinsonade, The  Coral Island, subverting the original story and unmapping the vision of British manliness it naturalised. In the early 1950s, with Britain in post-war ruins and the British Empire in decline, the geography of adventure stories like The  Coral Island was out of date, remaining as the hangover of a previous era, a persistent but anachronistic literary map. William Golding, a teacher in an English boys' school, knew that Victorian adventure stories like Treasure  Island and The  Coral  Island (Figur e 7.1) were still favorites among British children, as they had been among their parents, particularly their fathers (Turner, 1957). Stevenson's and Ballantyne's Robinsonades never bore as close a relationship to "reality" as to geographical fantasy and imperial ambition, but their relationship to British civilisation and imperialism became very tenuous after the war. The unbounded confidence and optimism of Ballantyne, plausible in Victorian Britain, at least among juvenile readers, was not at all plausible in the early 1950s. Ballantyne's confidence in human nature, or rather in the ultimate decency and superiority of white, European, Christian men, was undermined by the experience of war, the evidence of what such men are capable of doing to each other. And Ballantyne's optimism with regards to the progress of British civilisation was contradicted by the state of 2 E.M. Forster (1962) noted in an introduction to Lord of  the Flies that Golding knew what his pupils were reading. 1 9 0 Figure 7.1 The  Coral  Island (1957): frontispiece and title page. A gaudy, mid-twentieth century version of The  Coral Island, contemporaneous with Lord of  the Flies. THE CORAL ISLAND by R. M. Ballantyne P-I Illustrated with  line  drawings and 8 colour plates by LEO BATES L O N D O N : J. M. D E N T & SONS L T D NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO. INC. His brother chief stood aloof, talking , ith the page 224 captain 1 9 1 British cities and industry, which were devastated by war, and the state of the British Empire, which was in rapid decline. Britain no longer seemed like the geographical and historical centre of the world, as it had been depicted in stories like The Coral Island. Golding took this disjunction between the world he encountered in The Coral Island and the world he experienced as a British naval officer in the war and as a teacher in post-war Britain as his point of departure for writing The Lord of the Flies. Golding, seeing "Ballantyne's book as a broadly falsified map of reality, yet the only map of this particular reality that many of us have" (Niemeyer, 1961: 241), set about unmapping Ballantyne's geography. Lord of the Flies is a re-enactment of The Coral Island, with a similar cast of characters, a similar initial scenario and a similar setting. Golding takes Ballantyne's original cast of boys and adds more. Ralph, Jack and Peterkin in Ballantyne's story become Ralph, Jack and Piggy and/or Simon in Golding's. Golding also mentions at least fourteen others by name, although there are more, perhaps as many as sixty, in his story. The boys are plane wrecked (the modern equivalent of ship wrecked) on a vaguely-located desert island that seems (at first) like paradise, and is (probably) located somewhere en route to Australia. Golding's story begins in much the same way as Ballantyne's, as the boys realise that they are alone on an island, where they may play, have adventures and find some way of surviving, all in the absence of adults. Golding's boys find themselves on an island much like the one in The Coral Island, and they see themselves and their island through the eyes of adventure writers like Ballantyne. After Ralph, Jack and Simon explored, and found themselves to be on "a good island" with "food 6 As Oldsley and Weintraub (1965: 18) have suggested. ** The Coral Island had been one of the first adventure stories with an all-boy cast (Bratton, 1990). 1 9 2 and drink", with outcrops of pink granite and patches of blue flowers, they become optimistic about their adventure (Golding, 1954: 38). The island seems to spring from the pages of an adventure story. "Here at last was the imagined but never fully realised place leaping into real life" (Golding, 1954: 16). And the boys compare themselves to the heroes of adventure stories they have read. "It's like in a book." At once there was a clamour. "Treasure Island—" "Swallows and Amazons—" "Coral Island—" The Coral Island is not the only adventure the boys know and it is not the only adventure story Golding refers to. Compared to other stories, such as Treasure Island and Swallows and Amazons (1930), The Coral Island is less a representative than a caricature of adventure, among the least subtle in its portrayal of Christian manliness and British imperialism. Ballantyne's exuberant adventure provides Golding with his clearest point of departure, and with his setting. Golding's story soon diverges from Ballantyne's, but the setting continues to function in basically the same way. The island setting of Lord of the Flies, like The Coral Island, Gulliver's Travels, Robinson Crusoe  and a host of other modern British adventure stories, is ^ Golding also referred to other literary works, from Homer's Odyssey  to Swift's Gulliver's Travels. ^ Treasure  Island (1881-2), by Robert Louis Stevenson, was a purely secular tale of action and adventure, set in an inn, on board ship, and on an exotic but festering island, an evil space of disease and heat. There was no Christian content, except for a chilling reference to the book of Revelations. There were no muscular Christians in Treasure Island, only a boy hero who faced a large cast of very evil pirates and rough old seamen. And in Swallows and Amazons (1930), Arthur Ransome exchanged realistically exotic settings for geographical fantasies, for imaginary encounters with Amazonian pirates in England's Lake District (see Hardyment, 1984). 1 9 3 a vague, malleable, simplified space, a microcosm or caricature of contemporary Britain. As Hannabuss (1983) put it, these islands were "laboratories" in which to isolate and examine aspects of Britain. While Defoe's island was a space in which to visualise British Christian petit bourgeois society, and Ballantyne's was a space in which to imagine a form of British manliness, Golding's is a space in which to re-examine the same boys, as specimens of British manliness and as human beings. Golding, like Defoe and Ballantyne, describes the island in naturalistic detail. But, also like Defoe and Ballantyne, he is not really interested in geography or natural history, and his island remains geographically vague and inconsistent (Oldsley and Weintraub, 1965). Naturalistic detail serves to naturalise the ideas — about society and humanity - that are presented in the story. Golding's island is defined mainly by its "appearance of reality" (to borrow Defoe's phrase) and its disconnectedness and remoteness from Britain. Although superficially realistic, it, like Defoe's and Ballantyne's islands, is mainly an imaginative space in which to reinvent Britain and British manliness. In a setting much like Ballantyne's, Golding subverts Ballantyne's story and, in doing so, subverts the visions of Britain and British manliness his predecessor mapped. Both Ballantyne and Golding define the island by its geographical remoteness from Britain, but whereas Ballantyne represents it as a frontier of ever-expanding British civilisation, Golding represents it as a refuge from the smouldering remains of British or, more generally, western civilisation. Golding's story begins as boys are being evacuated from Britain, some of them vaguely aware that an atom bomb has hit England. "Didn't you hear what the pilot said? About the atom bomb?" one boy repeats, "They're all dead" (Golding, 1954: 14). Golding's point of departure is the end of civilisation as the British have known it, the end of history. As a reminder of the state of the civilised, war-torn adult world, a dead parachutist floats down from the upper air, and becomes entangled in a tree. Golding later explained that the dead parachutist was meant to represent history. 194 All that we can give our children in trouble is this monstrous dead adult, who's dead, but won't lie down, an ugly emblem of war and decay that broods over the paradise and provides the only objective equivalent for the beasts the boys imagine. (Golding quoted by Kermode: 1961: 19) In Lord of the Flies, as in The Coral  Island, the boys confront "savagery" on the island, but while Ballantyne's boys succeed in defeating it with their "civilised" ways, Golding's find that it is their "civilisation" that is defeated. Ballantyne's boys are always fun, manly, civilised, complimentary, loyal, friends. Golding's boys begin with rules and orderly meetings, wearing clothes and keeping a fire burning, but they gradually lose their grip on these symbols of civilisation. They become obsessed with fears of a "beast", and revert to a savage condition, exchanging their clothes for paint, and spilling the blood of pigs and, later on, each other (they kill Simon then Piggy). Whereas Ballantyne's boys confront savagery and evil among the cannibals and pirates they meet in the South Pacific, Golding's boys find savagery and evil among themselves, as a group and as individuals. Whereas Ballantyne's boys confront tangible geographies of darkness, Golding's confront the darkness within themselves, "the darkness of man's heart" (Golding, 1954: 223). Like Conrad's Charlie Mario w (in Heart of Darkness) who, as a "little chap", stared at maps and dreamed the seemingly innocent dreams of boyhood adventure, Golding's boys embark upon the adventure they have dreamed of, but in so doing they find out things, mainly about themselves, that frighten them. The boys in Golding's story are very much aware how far they have come from the adventure they once seemed to be embarking upon, the adventure narrated in the books they had read in England. Ralph's memory of boys' adventure stories (he mentions that he never read girls' stories) is juxtaposed with his own adventure. He remembers books at home, which stood on the shelf by the bed, leaning together with always two or three laid flat on top because he had not bothered to put them back properly. They were 195 dog-eared and scratched. There was the bright, shining one about Topsy and Mopsy that he had never read because it was about two girls... .there was the Boy's Book of Trains, The  Boy's Book of Ships. Vividly they came before him; he could have reached up and touched them, could feel the weight and slow slide with which the Mammoth Book for Boys  would come out and slither down.... Everything was all right; everything was good humoured and friendly. The bushes crashed ahead of them. Boys flung themselves wildly from the pig track and scrabbled in the creepers, screaming... (Golding, 1954: 123-24) Near the end of Golding's story, as Ralph is being hunted down by Jack and the other boys, a British naval officer appears on the beach. The officer, learning that the boys have been plane-wrecked on the tropical island, remarks "Jolly good show. Like the Coral Island" (Golding, 1954: 223). Ralph knows only too well that it has been nothing like The Coral Island. In a final, tearful scene, he and his companions understand how far they have come from Ballantyne's idealised, seemingly-innocent childhood adventure, and how different they are from Ballantyne's pure, manly heroes. Like Ballantyne almost exactly a century before him', Golding responded to and articulated a historical, geographical and intellectual moment. At the end of the decade, the British critic C.B.Cox (1960: 112) called Lord of the Flies (1954) "the most important novel to be published in this country in the 1950s". Just a few years later another critic, re-reading Lord of the Flies, commented that its "pessimism and spiritual fatigue" seemed "strangely dated" (Grande, 1963: 457). The appeal of Golding's story was by no means limited to Britain in the 1950s, but its most immediate appeal and relevance was in that context. While Ballantyne asserted a world view — including a vision of British manliness ~ that seemed ' Ballantyne's story is remembered as one of the most representative and influential of the 1850s, in social and cultural if not literary histories (Kermode, 1958). * The Golding "vogue" spread to other parts of the world, including the United States (where it had not initially caught on, and had quickly gone out of print) and Europe (translations including French and German) (Kearns, 1963). I do not wish to dismiss Golding's more universal references, nor to deny the importance of other situated readings of his story, but I am interested in Lord of the Flies as a story written and received within the specific historical and geographical context of post-war England. 196 plausible to mid-nineteenth-century Britons, Golding did the same for his own particular, war-torn and disillusioned generation. Lord of the Flies illustrates the potential of adventure stories to unmap as well as to map, to challenge as well as to assert. Critics have argued about how to classify Golding's story, whether to call it a novel or a fable, for example. I will call it an adventure story. While Golding turned Ballantyne's story on its head, he still told a gripping Christian** tale of white male adventure on a tropical island, and he still presented an apparently simple world view (in some respects the opposite of Ballantyne's) with absolute, manly confidence (Billington, 1993). Golding unmapped from roughly the same position as Ballantyne mapped, that is, as a white, heterosexual, middle class, literate, Christian, British man, who wrote and published in Britain, and was popular among British (and, later, other) readers. In this sense, at least, he was a very similar kind of adventure story writer to Ballantyne. Both Golding and Ballantyne used adventure as a medium in which to negotiate British manliness, imagining it in and in relation to exotic settings of adventure. " Golding's appeal, in the mid-1950s, was to a generation of Britons who had lived through the war, some as soldiers, others at home, and who had seen "international hatred and totalitarianism" and had perhaps experienced a "loss of values and of faith" in western civilisation (Grande, 1963: 458). " Although I do not regard adventures, novels and fables as mutually exclusively categories. 1 1 Hynes (1960: 673) commented, "Golding is perhaps unique among English novelists in the degree to which religiousness informs the fabric of his novels." The religious dimension to Lord of the Flies was not just a result of that book's relationship with Coral Island. Golding's religious comment was much more sophisticated and ambiguous. The boys do not pray, and Golding does not moralise. Rather, Golding tells a fable about original sin and the fall of man, in a Garden of Eden. *2 Although, since he presented the world view in the form of a story rather than an explicit statement, he left himself open to multiple interpretations. The same is true of other adventure stories, none more so than Robinson Crusoe. 197 Unmapping Defoe's island: denaturalising Crusoe's world To unmap the world view of adventurers like Ralph Rover and Robinson Crusoe more fundamentally, it is necessary not only to re-enter and subvert their narratives, but also to contest the terms — the language and the geography — in which those narratives are constructed. It is necessary to go further than Golding did when he challenged Ballantyne's world view — on his predecessor's terms and in his territory. But, in so doing, it is not necessary to abandon adventure; it is possible to unmap particular adventures by writing new, critical adventure stories. Post-colonial writers, retelling Robinson Crusoe,  begin where Golding left off. They subvert the adventure story that played such a strong role in naturalising and legitimating a British imperial world view, not only in the minds of the colonisers but also of the colonised , first by turning the tables on the white, male British coloniser, then by undermining his language and his setting. Selvon, Tournier and Coetzee re-enter the narrative space of Robinson Crusoe  and begin to retell the story from the perspective of a woman (absent in Defoe's story) and a black man (Friday, colonised in Defoe's story). But rather than appropriating Defoe's story, contesting his world view on his own terrain, they unmap Defoe's geography, destabilising the ground on which its masculinist, racist, imperialist vision was constructed. Although they use Robinson Crusoe  as a point of departure for their post-colonial projects, they retain some elements of Robinson Crusoe, including its general geographic structure. 1 J Brydon and Tiffin (1993: 49) argue that "the teaching and general dissemination of works like Robinson Crusoe  and The Tempest at the colonial N peripheries', formed an important part of the material imperial practice in continually reiterating for the colomsed the original capture of his/her radical alterity and the processes of its annihilation and marginalisation as if this were axiomatic, culturally ungrounded, natural." Whether they are forced on colonial readers, for example in schools, or whether they are actively sought out and enjoyed by colonial readers, Robinsons and Robinsonades represented colonial encounters to readers all over the world. Robinson Crusoe  was, as Hazlitt remarked in 1840, a "powerful influence" throughout "the nations of Christendom" (Shinagel, 1975: 292). Robinsonades such as The Coral Island and Treasure Island were also favorites throughout the English-speaking world, and also beyond it, until after the Second World War. These were the two favorite books among boys surveyed in New Zealand in 1947, for example (Lyons and Taksa, 1992). 1 9 8 Figure 7.2 Robinson  Crusoe  (1946): frontispiece and title page. A beautifully-illustrated post-war edition of the Robinson Crusoe  story, published in the United States. THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF R O B I N S O N CRUSOE BY DANIEL DEFOE ILLUSTRATED BY ROGER DUVOISIN INTRODUCTION BY MAY LAMBERTON" BECKER THE WORLD PUBLISHLNG COMPANY CLEVELAND A  SO Hf i« VOU K 1 9 9 Post-colonial subversions of Robinson Crusoe,  which appropriate, undermine and unground that story, were anticipated by anti-colonial critic Jonathan Swift in Gulliver's Travels.^ Swift, a contemporary of Defoe, opposed British imperial expansion, and was particularly critical of the slave trade. 5 He subverted the geography of Robinson Crusoe  — and therefore the colonial encounters it naturalised, promoted and legitimated — in Gulliver's Travels. Gulliver, a voluntary castaway, resolves to re-enact the Robinson Crusoe  story. My Design was, if possible, to discover some small island uninhabited yet sufficient by my Labour to furnish me with the Necessaries of Life, which I would have thought a greater Happiness than to be first Minister in the politest Court of Europe; so horrible was the idea I conceived of returning to live in the society and under the Government of Yahoos. For in such Solitude as I desired, I could at least enjoy my own Thoughts, and reflect with Delight on the Virtues of those inimitable Houyhnhnms, without any Opportunity of degenerating into the Vices and Corruptions of my own Species. (Swift, 1960: 228-229) But as soon as he sets foot on such an island, Gulliver is wounded in the knee with the arrow of a hostile native. He escapes in despair on a Portuguese trading vessel. Thus Swift Swift was not the first critic to subvert Robinson Crusoe, although his was the first critical Robinson to become a best seller. The first critical Robinson was published just months after the original. Charles Gildon, a minor playwright and pamphleteer, was the author of The  Life and  Strange and Surprizing Adventures of  Mr. D De  F— (1719), a parody of The  Life and  Strange and Surprizing Adventures of  Robinson Crusoe.  In Gildon's story D De  F— is visited by Robinson Crusoe  and Friday, who are seeking revenge for their treatment at the hands of the author. Crusoe  is annoyed at being made "to ramble over three Parts of the World after I was sixty five", while Friday complains of being made to look a "Blockhead" in his use of the English language, which he picked up after a couple of months, but never (in twelve years of Crusoe's company) succeeded in mastering. The two dramatis personae threaten D De F— with pistols, and force him to eat his own words (literally, to swallow pages of his own work) until they pass right through him, and an "unsavoury Stench" is emitted from the vicinity of his breeches. Gildon criticised Defoe for his tolerance of slavery (Robinson Crusoe was a slave trader), for his populist style, and for the liberties he took with "facts" (Rogers, 1979). *•* Swift's attack on Defoe's adventure was motivated partly by his opposition to colonial trade (including slavery) and annexation, which he associated with adventure (Nerlich, 1987: 275). 1" Gulliver's  Travels  (1726) was much more than an attack on Robinson Crusoe,  of course, and for much of the eighteenth century it outsold that book (Watt, 1957). 200 summarily dismissed Defoe's island story (Seidel, 1979: 19). More generally, Swift subverted Defoe's realistic geography. He satirised Defoe's realistic style — the style of a travel writer seeking to convince his readers he was telling the truth — with detailed but nonsensical descriptions of travel. After a storm at sea, for example, "we got the starboard tacks aboard, we cast off our weatherbraces and lifts; we set in the lee-braces, and hauled forward by the weather bowlings..." (Swift, 1960: 68). '  The geography of Gulliver's Travels is realistic in appearance, finely detailed, but impossible. For example, Swift located the islands of Lilliput, Blefuscu and Houyhnhnm-Land within the shores of New Holland, not by mistake or misprint (as some critics have suggested) (Moore, 1941), but as part of his burlesque of travel literature (Gibson, 1984). Undermining Defoe's geography, Swift undermined the imperial encounters it glorified and naturalised. His strategy of denaturalising Robinson Crusoe's colonial encounter by subverting his story and his geography is echoed in critical, post-colonial retellings of the story. Whereas Swift ~ a representative of white, literary, establishment Britain — retold Robinson Crusoe  from a (critical) perspective close to the "centre", others retell it from the geographical and social (including racial and gender) "margins" it inscribed, with the intention of unwriting that marginalisation. Post-colonial Robinsons begin by appropriating the narrative of the white, male, British coloniser. Sam Selvon reverses Defoe's order of white and black, master and slave, coloniser and colonised, England and island, in  Moses Ascending (1975). Unlike Coetzee and Tournier, Selvon writes from the (approximate) perspective of his narrator and protagonist — a black, Trinidadian man living in London. He re-enters the narrative space of Robinson Crusoe™, maintaining its realistic appearance and its generally binary structure, but 11 A starboard tack, for example, cannot be got aboard; it is a point of sail. 1° Other literary references in Moses Ascending include George Lamming's Water With Berries (1971) and Selvon's The  Lonely Londoners  (1956) (Fabre, 1979). 2 0 1 reversing the roles of England and the tropical island and, with them, the roles of white and black people. Moses, the black narrator and Crusoe figure, devotes most of his attention to the basic problems of survival in London. He finds a precarious shelter in the form of a house, condemned by the City of London, which he rents out to tenants. He is aware that he is acting out some kind of Robinsonade. Away from home — the "sandy beaches and waving coconut palms" of the West Indies (Selvon, 1975: 108) - in an uncomfortable, lonely, foreign place he struggles to survive. In the "penthouse" of his condemned dwelling he eventually finds the time and quiet space he needs to begin writing his memoirs. The struggle to survive is the basis for his story, and leads to the few adventures, reluctantly embarked upon, which he describes. These arise when Moses gets mixed up with some Black Panthers from America, and when he assists illegal immigrants from Asia. To immigrants from Asia and the West Indies, London is a strange land. They arrive in London much as Crusoe, with goods salvaged from his ship, arrived on the island. It was a motley trio that Faizull shepherd into the house. I have seen bewitched and bewildered adventurers land in Waterloo from the Caribbean with all their incongruous paraphernalia and myriad expressions of amazement and shock, but this Asian threesome beat them hands down. (Selvon, 1975: 66) Moses, the Black Crusoe, finds white natives in England. He "saved" a man Friday, an illiterate, non-Christian Englishman from the Black Country, giving him a home in exchange for his labour. "Witness how I take in poor Bob, and make him my footman, when he was destitute and had no place to go when he land in London" (Selvon, 1975: 25). Blacks convert whites to Christianity rather than vice versa. A Black Panther, attempting to "spread the gospel to the white heathens," feels that "not enough black missionaries like himself infiltrated the white jungles" (Selvon, 1975: 91). Blacks teach whites to speak and write English. Galahad, a black acquaintance of Moses, helps Bob with his pronunciation; "you know what an awful accent these Northerners have" (Selvon, 1975: 138). Moses tries to civilise Bob. "As we became good friends, or rather Master and Servant, I try to convert him 202 from the evils of alcohol", and "decided to teach him the Bible when I could make the time" (Selvon, 1975: 5). Selvon parodies Robinson Crusoe,  unwriting a colonial story and unmapping a colonial world while writing a post-colonial story and mapping a particular post-colonial world view. But Selvon does not do this entirely within the terms — the language, the narrative and the geographical structure — defined by Defoe. While he begins by reversing the roles of Crusoe and Friday, England and the island, he proceeds to dismantle the order of Robinson Crusoe more completely, to deconstruct its racially and geographically dualistic world view. Having switched the roles of Crusoe and Friday, white and black, he switches them again. The white Friday rises up against his black master. Near the end of Moses Ascending, Moses loses his penthouse to his man Friday, Bob, who then demands to be called Robert (almost "Robinson"?). Moses has to move into Galahad's basement. Roles and spaces turn out to be fluid, interchangeable, or, perhaps, the old white/black master/slave relationship is reasserted. The authority of the English language, too, is undermined. Moses lives in "Brit'n", not Britain. Speaking and writing West Indian "english", and teaching it to Bob, Moses refuses to defer to the authority of British "English". Whereas Defoe's Crusoe spoke in standard (if journalistic) English, contrasted to Friday's perpetually-broken English, Moses speaks in an "english" reminiscent of Friday's, which is contrasted to Bob's "awful" English. Beginning to dissolve the dualistic identities and spaces of Robinson Crusoe,  and to undermine the language in which it was written, Selvon attacks some of the foundations of Robinson Crusoe.  But the main force of Moses Ascending comes from appropriation - rather than deconstruction — of the white, British colonist's story. To switch narrators, and thus retell and remap Robinson Crusoe  from a different point of view, is ultimately to remain within the same narrative space. Selvon transposes the story and 203 the setting of Robinson Crusoe  almost beyond recognition, but he retells the same essential story (from the perspective of Friday) and remains within the same (binary) geographic structures. To challenge Robinson Crusoe  even more fundamentally, it is ultimately necessary to step outside of his narrative space, to deconstruct his geography. Michel Tournier steps outside Defoe's setting — outside Robinson Crusoe's realistic island — by exploring a number of points of view but exposing each as a textual construct. Like Selvon, Tournier begins to rewrite Robinson Crusoe  from the perspective of Friday then proceeds to subvert it. But Tournier's island setting and black inhabitants, never realistic, are overtly the constructs of European literature, not "real" colonised places and peoples. The title of Tournier's version of the Robinson Crusoe  story -- Friday; or  The Other Island*^ (1969), followed by a children's edition, Friday and Robinson; Life on Speranza Island*® (1972) — suggests that Tournier's intention is to retell the story from Friday's perspective. But the story is told by Robinson, not Friday. Tournier does not introduce Friday until the second half of the story. By then Robinson has already been shipwrecked, reverted to a state of near insanity — wallowing in the mud and hallucinating ~ and then restored his "civilised" ways, with regular work, rules and a residence. Nevertheless, when Friday does finally arrive he gradually assumes centre stage in Robinson's story. At first Friday plays the part of Robinson's slave. But he never takes his master's rules or regimented work practices very seriously. He never quite gives in to his master's demands, never renounces his freedom; he is always "natural" man. From Friday's perspective, as a detached, bemused onlooker, the "civilisation" Robinson takes so seriously - his superficially-practical British colony -appears ridiculous. Friday's careless attitude leads him to make mistakes, to ruin a field of *^ A translation of Vendredi,  ou  les Limbes du Pacifique. ^" The children's edition is shorter, simpler and less sexually explicit. 204 his master's crops and, ultimately, to destroy Robinson's stores and residence by igniting the gunpowder. Robinson, rather than angry, is relieved to lose the civilisation that was, in effect, his cage. At this point Friday becomes his mentor, teaching him how to make music and good food. Soon Robinson, too, is a "natural" man, suntanned and naked. Friday's way of living, and his way of seeing the island, have supplanted Robinson's. Although Friday assumes centre stage, and defines his own stage, he remains a term in Robinson's story, never a non-European or non-white speaking for himself. Specifically, Friday is an image from French Romantic literature. Toumier signals his Romantic vision of Friday explicitly, setting his story exactly a century after the original. Robinson is a contemporary of Rousseau, and his shipwreck coincides with the writing of Emile (Purdy, 1984: 224), the work in which Rousseau recommends Robinson Crusoe  to young readers and identifies Crusoe as "natural man" (not what Defoe intended). *•  Friday is mainly an image in Robinson's Romantic imagination, which had begun to develop before Friday arrived. Before he encountered Friday, Robinson was in the habit of retreating from his "civilised" spaces and ways, crawling into a dark, womb-like cave and making symbolic love to the earth. Friday does not give him the idea of retreating from society to nature, he just shows him how, and shows him that in doing so he need not revert to mud baths and hallucinations. Friday helps Robinson to see a different island, but rather than showing him the "real" island, he shows that no island is real. Toumier does not try to rewrite Robinson Crusoe  and remap the island from the perspective of a colonised, non-white, non-European. Friday, described by one reviewer as "heady French wine in the old English bottle" (Fleming, 1969), is more a parody of such a project, particularly as it might he handled by a white, French, 2* The dates of Crusoe's birth, shipwreck and rescue, according to Defoe and Toumier respectively, were 30 Sept 1632 and 19 Dec 1737; 30 Sept 1659 and 30 Sept 1759; 19 Dec 1686 and 19 Dec 1787 (Purdy, 1984). 205 literary man. Tournier's island is never allowed to look much like reality ~ to have the "appearance of reality" - for very long. It is an explicitly literary construct, malleable and insubstantial. Jonathan Raban suggests that "Robinson's sturdy capacity to create the world in which he lives is as brave as it is comic. There's always another island, as the epigraph reminds us" (Raban, 1969: 217). On this shifting ground, world views and imperial encounters flash before the reader's eyes, but they do not stay still long enough to be naturalised. To go further than Tournier, who steps outside of Robinson Crusoe's island, would be to step outside his story, to break down his narrative. This may mean assuming critical distance from adventure, subverting adventure rather than writing critical adventures. J.M. Coetzee embarks upon such a project in Foe, his retelling of the Robinson Crusoe  story. Foe,  like Moses Ascending and Friday, begins as a retelling of Robinson Crusoe  from the perspective of a marginalised character, in this case a woman, absent in Defoe's story and in most Robinsonades. Given Coetzee's preoccupation — as a white, South-African enemy of apartheid (Penner, 1989) - with race, it is not surprising that Foe develops not as a (white) woman's appropriation of a (white) man's story, but as a third-party perspective on the relationship between the white man and his black slave, and then as a more general subversion of the story, in which Coetzee undermines the project of appropriating it from any perspective. J z z An acclaimed author, Coetzee won the Booker Prize in 1983. ^ Coetzee had explored and negotiated race relations and colonialism in other critical Robinsons, notably the novel Dusklands, but Foe is his first explicit response to Robinson Crusoe.  Gardiner (1987: 174) calls Dusklands a South African "translation of Robinson Crusoe"  and argues that Coetzee's works "have all subversively inscribed Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe  with the deliberate aim of rejecting its canonical formulation of the colonial encounter". 2 0 6 Figure 7.3 Friday  and Robinson (1972): a "fantastic assembly of lords and ladies," hosted by Friday. Friday has dressed the cactus plants in Robinson's best clothes and hats, and is dancing naked among them, in a gesture of good-natured, playful disrespect towards Robinson's "civilisation". Watercolour illustrations depict a sensuous world that is lacking in detail and in any sense of reality. 207 In Foe, Coetzee assumes the perspective of first-person narrator, Susan Barton, who is cast adrift in a rowing boat. Barton had been left to fend for herself after mutineers killed the captain of her ship and raped her. After rowing and then swimming to a nearby island, she is taken in by Cruso (Coetzee's spelling and, occasionally, Defoe's) who lives there with his slave, Friday. Barton does not find the hero described in Defoe's story, but a forgetful old man with rotting teeth. Friday, too, is dull, mute and generally less romantic than Defoe's Friday. The island is not quite as it appeared in Defoe's tale, or as desert islands appeared in travellers' tales more generally. vFor readers reared on travellers' tales, the words desert isle may conjure up a place of soft sands and shady trees where brooks run to quench the castaway's thirst and ripe fruit falls into his hand, where no more is asked of him than to drowse the days away till a ship calls to fetch him home. But the island on which I was cast away was quite another place...' (Coetzee, 1986: 7). When Barton cross-examines Cruso on the subject of his past life, shipwreck, island life and sole companion, Friday (whose tongue seems to have been cut out), she finds his stories inconsistent and confused, and doubts both his memory and his sanity. Crusoe lives in his own private world, not observing the island or communicating with those around him. He has taught Friday just enough that he will obey orders, and he does not listen to Barton. He has kept no journal, and he has no idea how long he has been on the island. Barton, Cruso and Friday are later rescued from their island by a passing ship. On the way back to Britain Barton tells her story to the captain, who says that there has never been a female crusoe and suggests she set her experiences down in writing. Back in Britain, Barton brings her story to Z 4 Barton's adventures, including her rape, are reminiscent of those of the rare eighteenth-century female crusoes such as Hannah Hewit. Hannah Hewit; or,  The Female Crusoe. Being  the history of a woman of uncommon, mental,  and  personal accomplishments; who, after a variety of extraordinary and interesting adventures in almost every station of life, from splendid prosperity to abject adversity, was  cast away in the Grosvenor East-Indiaman, and  became for three  years the sole inhabitant of an island, in  the south seas. Supposed to be written by herself (1790). Charles Dibdin, the author, placed a female adventurer in a conventionally male adventure, for novelty value as much as anything else. Dibdin's female adventurer acts and writes like a conventionally male adventurer, and is credited, for example, with a "male mind" and a strong intellect, "those requisites without which no female can be absolutely a writer" (Dibdin, 1790: vi). 208 a writer named Foe, who is to turn it into a book. Cruso, no longer the believable narrator of his own story about himself, his slave and his island, is to become a character in Barton's story. Friday and the island, too, are to fall into Barton's quest narrative, the adventure story of her travels in search for a lost daughter. Barton and Foe, it seems, have a different, more truthful version of the island and its inhabitants, than that told by Crusoe and/or Defoe. Having re-entered the narrative space of Robinson Crusoe,  Coetzee then subverts it, undermining its realistic geographical images and denaturalising its world view by destabilising its language and ungrounding its realistic terrain. At first Susan Barton is physically present, a woman whose experiences on the island, swimming in the ocean and recovering on the beach, defecating in the garden and having sex with Crusoe, are vivid and very "real". In the first third of the story, when she is on the island, Barton's presence is stronger as a character than a narrator, although she is always both. Her narration, like Defoe's in Robinson Crusoe,  seems simply to report her adventure. She insists on resisting the temptation to describe strange and fanciful fruits, serpents, lions and cannibals. But when she is rescued and returned to Britain, attention is refocussed upon her role as a narrator rather than as a character. At first she believes in and insists on telling the truth. "I will not have lies", she insists (Coetzee, 1986: 40). But in Britain she has plenty of time to reflect upon, and begin to doubt, the possibility of truth in story telling. As a narrator, she becomes a more abstract voice, a vehicle for Coetzee to comment and speculate on questions of narrative, truth, language, authorship, representation and colonialism. She also becomes a self-effacing mediator between Cruso and Friday - the characters of her story — and the binary worlds they represent: master and slave, white and black, articulate and mute, coloniser and colonised. Barton's reflections on language and story telling and her Zi> As one critic put it, Barton's "essence is that she is a teller of tales", who "carries the central theme of Coetzee's Foe, the nature of narrative art" (Penner, 1989: 113). 209 relationship with Foe, and with a woman who claims to be her daughter, lead her to doubt the veracity not only of her story, but also of herself, her own existence. The realism of the first third of the story is broken down, qualified and undermined, until nothing seems real any more, except possibly the text. Barton asks Foe, "Am I a phantom too?" (Coetzee, 1986: 102). She complains that the island, too, must be part of a story, unable to stand as a thing in itself. Barton realises that the island is just the setting of a story, in which she, Friday and Crusoe are the characters; all are textual constructs. Thus Barton qualifies and ultimately abandons her own faith in the essential truth of her realistic images. Critics have puzzled over why Coetzee seemed to embark upon the project of retelling Robinson Crusoe from a woman's point of view, but then allowed his story to degenerate into a series of general reflections. Packer (1987: 404) suggests that "Foe  reads as if Coetzee started out to reinvent Defoe's famous tale through a woman's eyes, became intrigued with the linguistic and philosophical implications, and ended up by writing a commentary on the elusiveness of his own project." Some critics see this as a failure on Coetzee's part, suspecting that he was side-tracked. Penner (1989: 127) has trouble seeing the adventure and the subsequent reflections as part of an "artistic whole." He "wishes that [Coetzee] had devised something more engaging for Barton to do after leaving the island", and complains that too little happens after the return to England. Other critics complain that Foe "never quite comes to life" (Auerbach, 1987: 37) and suggest that "theories about fiction are best suggested implicitly, rather than through direct discourse" (Packer, 1987: 404). Coetzee does not succeed in writing a critical adventure so much as in criticising an adventure. He does not just rewrite Robinson Crusoe,  he rewrites Defoe's whole trilogy. The island adventure ends one-third of the way into the book, just as it ended one-third of the way into Defoe's trilogy. The two sequels to Robinson Crusoe  were devoted mainly to 2 1 0 reflections on the relation of fiction to reality, and to qualifications of the realism in the original story. Similarly, Foe degenerates into a series of rambling reflections on the subject of truth in fiction, which lead to no particular conclusions, other than a general abandonment of realism. Coetzee, evidently informed by late-twentieth-century post-structural philosophers, comes to a set of conclusions similar to those of his eighteenth-century predecessor. But, like Defoe, he strays too far from adventure, by that point, to really subvert (rather than comment on) adventure, and perhaps to hold the interest of some of his more general readers. Conclusion Golding, Selvon, Tournier and Coetzee illustrate ways in which adventures can be used to critically negotiate world views, constructions of identity and geography. Golding stayed close to the form of the adventure story he subverted, while Selvon, Tournier and particularly Coetzee departed further from it. Coetzee subverted so much of the original adventure that his story strays outside the boundaries of adventure, observing adventure at a distance. But, to the extent that they remain within the bounds of adventure, and resist the temptation to assume critical distance from it, these post-colonial writers illustrate ways in which adventure can unmap, leading readers into disturbingly, actively "unknown" spaces, in which it is possible to invent new identities and geographies. To unmap Robinsons, Robinsonades and other adventure stories is to open space in which to invent new worlds, to make room for new voices and new constructions of geography and forms of identity. Critical adventures are not just negative exercises in erasing established constructions of geography and identity. They use the geography of adventure stories as a 2" One critic, for example, remarks that Coetzee's Foe "has evidently been reading Jacques Derrida's De La Grammatologie" (Donoghue, 1987: 26). 2 1 1 point of departure to get somewhere new, to invent new stories and construct new geographies and identities, to write new literatures. Critical adventures clearly depart from the stories and the geographies they refer to, but in many important ways they stay the same. The adventurer enters a terra incognita where anything is possible, where he or she is able to reinvent him or herself and his or her world. Terra incognita is an unsettling, disorienting space where it is both possible and necessary to remap, to invent new geographies. Unmapping, in the words of Robert Kroetsch (1989: 17), means "unlearning so that we might learn". Critical retellings of Robinson Crusoe  by post-colonial writers such as Toumier re-enact the Robinson Crusoe  to the extent that they lead the Crusoe figure out of the world he knows, through a period of storm-like disorientation, to an unfamiliar world where nothing is certain but almost anything is possible. The less they carry with them into that unfamiliar space, the better chance they have of leaving the world as they know it behind. One thing they do need to hold onto is the ability to tell a good story, whether in a "literary" or in a popular style. So long as they tell a good story, they keep the reader's attention while mapping a new world, or just defining space in which others may map their worlds. Reinscribing terrae incognitae, unsettling spaces in which to reinvent geographies and identities, post-colonial adventure writers continue rather than break with the radical tradition of their medium, in which worlds and world views are turned upside down before being recast in some other form. This tradition is as evident in the colonial adventure stories of Defoe and Marchant as it is in the post-colonial adventure stories of writers such as Selvon and Toumier. 11 Whereas Green (1990) generalises that adventures are popular whereas anti-adventures are literary, I argue that adventures are essentially good stories, which may be literary or popular. 212 CHAPTER EIGHT CONCLUSION: ADVENTURE AND THE REINVENTION OF THE WORLD: VIOLENCE AND LD3ERATION The European "discovery" of a new world resulted in the transformation of both the new world and Europe itself, and popular adventure stories were, and in some cases still are,* one of the mechanisms of that transformation. Although Europe was not a closed system before Europeans encountered (what they later called) America, it was a very much more open — and hence dynamic — system after that moment. The new world opened up new possibilities for European exploration, trade and emigration, all of which had tangible consequences around the world. It created new possibilities for European geographical fantasies and stories, including adventure stories, which could be set in an expanded range of "real" but "unknown" settings. In the writing and reading of adventure stories, as in more tangible encounters and imperial practices, Europeans reconstituted themselves while, at the same time, they reconstituted the new world. Their discoveries gave Europeans the chance to go somewhere else, in so doing transforming and reinventing both themselves and the spaces around them. In their dreams and/or in reality, they travelled to terrae incognitae where they sought to simplify and purify their culture. Christians, from the Puritans in New England to the Doukhobors in western Canada, left Europe for settings where they could purify, perfect and revitalise their religious culture. Like Robinson Crusoe on his island, they isolated and purified particular strands of European 1 As people read less (in particular, less British popular fiction) and watch more (more American movies and television drama), adventure has generally shifted (along with the mainstream of popular culture) from one medium to another, although many aspects of adventure have remained constant. Brydon and Tiffin (1993: 41) argue that "imperial fictions, old and new, still constantly inform popular culture." 2 1 3 Christianity, while transforming a new world setting by colonising it. The story of Robinson Crusoe's transformation was addressed not only to potential colonists, but also to Christians who were to remain in Europe. Defoe's Christian adventurer, his faith purified away from European religious institutions, was an image of dissent, an argument for the deinstitutionalisation of religion. Other adventure stories, addressed primarily to European audiences, follow the same general pattern of isolating and nurturing particular elements of Europe in the spaces of adventure. In The Young  Fur Traders, for example, Ballantyne imagined the simplification of European masculinity, by isolating and naturalising one form of masculinity - Christian manliness - in a Canadian setting. The image2 of Europeans transplanting - simplifying and purifying — their culture overseas is echoed in Canadian stories and histories ranging from Jack Hodgins' The  Invention of the World (1977), the story of an Irishman who transplants an entire village to Vancouver Island where he builds the Revelations Colony of Truth, to Cole Harris's more formal thesis about the simplification of Europe overseas in which some elements of Europe were brought to Canada while others were left behind (Harris, 1977; see also Hartz, 1964). The narratives of North American cultural and historical geographers from Harris back through Andrew Clark and Carl Sauer can, in this light, be interpreted as retellings of old European myths and stories. Not only were the practices, artefacts and aesthetics of Europeans (the content of Sauerian cultural/historical geographies) transplanted, so were the narratives, the ways of telling history. Thus adventures can be located among a broad range of stories and histories in which Europeans, encountering the new world, profoundly transformed both Europe and the new world. This was just an image or ideology, of course, since settler societies were not intrinsically simpler or purer than the European societies. 2 1 4 The transformative capacity of the adventure story is rooted in its ambivalent mixture of conservatism and radicalism, its ability to map and remap - fixing geographies and identities in realistic space, naturalising them there - but also to unmap — subverting and destabilising received constructions of geography and identity. The geography of adventure, despite its "appearance of reality" and hence of fixity, is never static. It is a constantly changing, magical world where reality is fleeting and almost anything is possible. The world of adventure presents what Robert Louis Stevenson called a "kaleidoscopic dance of images" (Salmon, 1888: 105). This is liminal terrain, in which elements of the recognisable world reappear in strange, ever-changing, sometimes-disturbing configurations. It is a space in which to move, not to stop. Like all geography — all maps ~ it both constrains and enables. It constrains in the sense that it reproduces many values and assumptions, circumscribes some of the possibilities of geography and identity, and defines the terrain on which world views can be negotiated. It also enables in that it creates space in which writers and readers are able to rework and redefine values and assumptions, and begin to transgress boundaries and categories. The geography of adventure is a point of departure. As Patrick White put it in his metaphysical Robinsonade, Voss  (1957), "knowledge was never a matter of geography. Quite the reverse, it overflows all maps that exist" (White, 1957: 475). The geography of Voss's adventure is not the ultimate goal of his quest, but it is a necessary starting point. Writers actively move within the spaces of adventure, reinventing and reinscribing social constructs such as race, class, gender and geography. The geography of Robinson Crusoe, for example, has been the point of departure for many mappings, unmappings and remappings. Just as some nineteenth-century writers (and editors) re-entered Defoe's eighteenth-century narrative to map nineteenth-century constructions of British colonialism in ^ Brydon and Tiffin (1993), borrowing Macherey's (1978) concept of Robinson Crusoe as "thematic ancestor", call Patrick White's Voss  a "thematic" descendent of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and in turn of Robinson Crusoe. 2 1 5 their many retellings and editions of Robinson Crusoe,  late twentieth-century writers have re-entered the same narrative space to unmap those colomal constructions. They unmap, but not to bury the story. In most cases they continue to move within the general parameters of its geography. Since the geography of the island starts out as terra incognita and is transformed as the story progresses, as Crusoe transforms himself, the geography of the story is intrinsically dynamic and leaves scope for imagining alternative worlds. Within the general geography of Robinson Crusoe,  it was possible for colonists and emigration activists like Catharine Parr Traill and Bessie Marchant to map colonial geographies, and for post-colonial critics such as Sam Selvon and J.M. Coetzee to recover space in which people could invent post-colonial geographies and identities. Readers and listeners, like writers and publishers, move within the narrative spaces of adventure. Readers select much of what they read, despite the censures of publishers, parents and teachers. Nineteenth-century children bought, swapped and read "penny dreadfuls" against their parents' wishes, while their twentieth-century counterparts sought out and read stories by Enid Blyton, often against the wishes of their parents, teachers and librarians. Readers also choose how they read, sometimes receiving the images and messages intended by the author and publisher, sometimes actively challenging and reinterpreting them. In an 4 Selvon uses Robinson Crusoe as a point of departure from which to get from a colonial to a post-colonial condition; the language and geography of a colonial story is his point of departure for writing post-colonial (West Indian) literature (King, 1979; Morris, 1984). * As children's librarian and juvenile literature critic, Sheila Ray (1982: 5), points out, "Ever since children started reading, adults have been anxious to ban some of their favorite books.... Robinson Crusoe  was criticised because the reading of it might lead to van early taste for the rambling life' and because it emphasised the importance of accumulating material goods... No author, however, has been attacked to the same extent that Enid Blyton has during the last thirty years." In particular, adults in post-war Britain objected to the racism, sexism and classism of Blyton stories, which seemed embarrassingly dated. But children "voted with their feet, making [Blyton] the popular author that she is" (Mullan, 1987: 13). 2 1 6 extreme case, for example, one boy challenged the editor of Nuggets (a British magazine) to a duel (Turner, 1957: 95). Most readers challenged authors and their texts less dramatically, inventing their own ways of reading them. Images of muscular Christian boys, for example, were appropriated and aestheticised, in some late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century readings, transformed from representations of Christian Socialist ideology to spectacles of homo-erotic beauty. It became difficult to reconcile the "cultivated hedonism" of aesthetic reinterpretations of muscular Christianity with the philosophical intentions of Kingsley and Arnold, whose images had been appropriated and redefined. Thus adventure stories have the potential to be read in different ways. They identify an imaginative space but do not dictate what goes on within its broad parameters, and as a result they afford readers a measure of agency, an active role in processes of constructing and reconstructing geographies and identities. The geography of adventure has served the purposes of so many different visionaries and actors because it is a malleable space, uncluttered and uncomplicated, simplistic but realistic. Adventurers transgress the boundaries and absolutes of their own society, and venture far from the messy, cluttered realities of the domestic, "civilised" and known, to space where something else is possible. The exotic geography of adventure is a region of danger and delight, which lures readers and listeners, inspiring their fantasies and acts. Since it is left wide open, the space of adventure leaves much room for geographical fantasies. Settings are sketched in bold, outline form, constructed in short, simple sentences and unsubtle, primary colours. In Godophin's Robinson Crusoe  in Words of One Syllable, for example, Crusoe's story and island were reconstructed in words of just one syllable. The simple, didactic images " In "Muscular Christianity," an article published in the Oxford and Cambridge Undergraduates' Journal, the Revd. E.C. Lefroy attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to reconcile the "cultivated hedonism" of J. A. Symonds, who aestheticised muscular Christianity, with the philosophy of manliness invented by Charles Kingsley and Matthew Arnold (Vance, 1985: 186). 2 1 7 and stories have sometimes been explained (by writers and critics) as necessary and appropriate for juvenile readerships. This explanation has some validity, but in many cases it is an excuse. Perhaps, instead, some writers — from Ballantyne to Golding — opted for the popular, ostensibly-juvenile form because it enabled them to define settings and stories with a simplicity that was less compelling or plausible elsewhere. Short sentences and primary colours constructed uncomplicated settings in which simple world views could be asserted. The geography of adventure is politically ambivalent, since its implications are both violent and liberating. Ideas like purification and simplication, common in "new world" histories and stories — including adventure stories — can be violent when naturalised, mapped onto social and geographical realities where they leave no room for complexity and heterogeneity. When a simple ideology of manliness, articulated in the uncomplicated setting of a boys' adventure story like The Young Fur Traders, is literalised as a realistic and plausible representation of manliness, the heterogeneity and difference among boys and men is denied; all are forced, violently, into a narrow, uncomfortable box. When an ideology of purified religion or simplified culture, articulated in stories like Robinson Crusoe,  is literalised as a realistic and plausible space, and is mapped onto that space, whether in Europe or in the so-called new world, a violence is done to that human geography, in transforming it into malleable, simplified space. Before the new world could become the terra incognita for Europeans to purify their religion and simplify their culture, for example, its human geography — people, flora and fauna, stories and maps — had to be erased, often violently. Similarly, before Europeans could imagine sweepingly-simple, brave new worlds in their own continent, it was necessary for them to erase the worlds that existed — a violent prospect, as Foigny's adventure story made clear. In practice this may mean certain people erasing other peoples' worlds and remapping their own, focussed social vision. While ideas like simplification and purification are violent when mapped onto real people and places, they are still potentially 2 1 8 liberating. The geographies of adventure, simple and uncomplicated, enable writers and readers to remove themselves from the messy realities and textured experiences of here and now, enabling them to imagine alternatives, other possible worlds, departures from the status quo. 2 1 9 BIBLIOGRAPHY General Aitchison, R.C. 1909. Jules Verne, 1828 - 1905. Boy's Own  Paper 31: 557-558 Allen, W.O.B. and McClure, E. 1898. Two  Hundred Years,  the History of  the SPCK, 1698-1898. Chicago Altick, Richard D. 1957. The  English Common  Reader: A Social  History of  the Mass-Reading Public.  Chicago Applewhite, J. 1985. Seas and Inland Journeys: Landscape and Consciousness  from Wordsworth to Roethke. Athens: University of Georgia Press Arnold, Guy 1980. Held Fast For England: G.A. Henty,  Imperialist  Boys' Writer. London: Hamish Hamilton Atkinson, Geoffroy 1966. The  Extraordinary Voyage  in French Literature Before  1700. New York: AMS Press/ Colombia University Auerbach, Nina 1987. A novel of her own. 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