A CRITICAL BIOGRAPHY OF EDWIN JAMES BRADY - Mallacoota ...

‘Dry country, this.’
Several scientific cuts which relieved the skin.
‘Dry country,’ I repeated.
‘Dunno. Yairs.’
‘Say,’ I cried, determined to drag him out somehow, ‘did you read
yesterday’s papers?’
‘Naw. Don’t get ‘em.’
‘Then you didn’t hear the news?’
‘Naw. What’s that?’
Knife still working rapidly.
‘James the Second is dead.’
‘Naw. What of?’
‘Barcoo rot!’ I announced, and left him cutting up the sheep. 1
This is fine, compressed writing, displaying Brady’s sense of humour as well as a
quite remarkable control over his temper, although one does not argue too much with
a man who has a sharp knife. Fortunately he meets few people so laconic. Usually he
serves as a pleasant interruption in the farm routine wherever he arrives, visitors
being much more rare then than in this age of the motor car.
139
There is pathos in the bush, exemplified by the two mates, one of whom played the
accordion as soon as he recovers from his spree so that the sound of the music serves
as a symbol of restoration and hope. There is ample evidence of resourcefulness, such
as in the case of the man who grew cabbages for sale while every other person in the
settlement grovelled for tin in an unyielding ground. And with the continual
travelling and meeting people, Brady’s assistant on the Queensland trip gradually
builds up a personality which shows him to be a lively, rather eccentric young man,
chosen for his ability to cook and to handle his fists. He betrays and unusual ability to
gather stray eggs from nests, wandering poultry from farms passed, oranges growing
near fences but “not sucking-pigs or sheep, unless hunger justified, and then only in
remote places at night.” He appears as a young man “with his own code of ethics, to
which he adhered as far as possible”, the only trouble being that his code differed
markedly from the laws of the land. But Joe stands revealed as a love of tall tales and
quaint phrases, keeping remarkable sang-froid in the face of danger (he clenched his
teeth firmly on the stem of his pipe while informing one bully that he did not smoke).
Possessor of an irrepressible sense of fun and an ability to cook and act as soundingboard
for the conversation and ideas of the travelling writer. Again, with his
delineation of Joe, Brady shows a sympathy with human weakness and a refusal to
condemn human eccentricity. Rather he attempts to understand the behaviour, seeing
it in terms of upbringing and environment. Such also was his reaction to the
interesting, intelligent young man who turns out to be a prisoner from Bathurst Gaol,
whom Brady considers in terms of “what particular devil led than man’s feet into the
paths of crime?” Similar treatment is accorded the “aged wight” with garrulous
memories” he meets at Carcoar, who turns out to be an ex-convict. It is obvious
where Brady’s sympathies lie and as in his “Religion of Humanity” he endeavours to
underline the social ills which lead to such diversions from the socially-accepted
patterns of behaviour.
1 River Rovers, p. 122.