The Vesper-song of the Reverend Samuel Marsden Stewart McGowan, HSPA, 2011

1. The Vesper-song of the Reverend Samuel MarsdenStewart McGowan, HSPA, 2011 Representation and Text Conflicting Perspectives

2. Lecture Overview • Encourage personal response to related texts, particularly Slessor’s poem • Use the rubric sheet to guide analysis of texts • Focus on language features of Slessor’s representation of Marsden • Provide insight into relating chosen texts to Conflicting Perspectives and The Justice Game

3. MODULE C: Representation and Text This module requires students to explore various representations of events, personalities or situations. They evaluate how medium of production, textual form, perspective and choice of language influence meaning. The study develops students’ understanding of the relationships between representation and meaning. (Reread English Stage 6 Syllabus, p 52.)

4. Background: Marsden • http://www.adb.online.anu.edu.au/biogs/A020176b.htm • Wikipedia article includes a description of Marsden overseeing the flogging of convicts

5. MARSDEN, SAMUEL (1765-1838), chaplain, missionary and farmer, was born on 24 June 1765 at Farsley, Yorkshire, England, the son of Thomas Marsden, a blacksmith… … The advent of the more religiously inclined Governor John Hunter in 1795 recognized the chaplain's efforts to reclaim the convicts' souls or at least to achieve an outward observance of moral and religious injunctions; but this effect was counterbalanced by Marsden's appointment as a magistrate and superintendent of government affairs at Parramatta. Clerical justices were common in England at the time but his magisterial posts kept him occupied with heavy temporal duties, and they also further estranged him as a clergyman from the convicts to whom he dispensed justice. No aspects of Marsden's activities did more harm to his pastoral work or to his historical character in Australia than his reputation for extreme severity as a magistrate. This was firmly set by September 1800 when, in the course of an inquiry into a suspected Irish uprising, Judge Advocate Richard Atkins and Marsden had a suspect flogged mercilessly in the hope of securing information about hidden weapons. This particular action was scarcely defensible, but Marsden was not the only magistrate who ordered the infliction of illegal punishments. His general severity can be attributed to his high-mindedness, his passionate detestation of sin and his conviction that Parramatta was such a sink of iniquity that morality could be preserved only by the most rigorous disciplinary measures. For all that, the flogging parson, like the hanging judge, is commonly regarded as an unattractive character.

6. MARSDEN, SAMUEL (1765-1838), chaplain, missionary and farmer, was born on 24 June 1765 at Farsley, Yorkshire, England, the son of Thomas Marsden, a blacksmith… … The advent of the more religiously inclined Governor John Hunter in 1795 recognized the chaplain's efforts to reclaim the convicts' souls or at least to achieve an outward observance of moral and religious injunctions; but this effect was counterbalanced by Marsden's appointment as a magistrate and superintendent of government affairs at Parramatta. Clerical justices were common in England at the time but his magisterial posts kept him occupied with heavy temporal duties, and they also further estranged him as a clergyman from the convicts to whom he dispensed justice. No aspects of Marsden's activities did more harm to his pastoral work or to his historical character in Australia than his reputation for extreme severity as a magistrate. This was firmly set by September 1800 when, in the course of an inquiry into a suspected Irish uprising, Judge Advocate Richard Atkins and Marsden had a suspect flogged mercilessly in the hope of securing information about hidden weapons. This particular action was scarcely defensible, but Marsden was not the only magistrate who ordered the infliction of illegal punishments. His general severity can be attributed to his high-mindedness, his passionate detestation of sin and his conviction that Parramatta was such a sink of iniquity that morality could be preserved only by the most rigorous disciplinary measures. For all that, the flogging parson, like the hanging judge, is commonly regarded as an unattractive character.

8. Background: Marsden Background: Marsden . The very first blows made the blood spout out from Fitzgerald's shoulders; and I felt so disgusted and horrified, that I turned my face away from the cruel sight. ... I have witnessed many horrible scenes; but this was the most appalling sight I had ever seen. The day was windy, and I protest. that although I was at least fifteen yards to leeward, from the sufferers, the blood, skin, and flesh blew in my face as the executioners shook it off from their cats. Fitzgerald received his whole three hundred lashes,

10. The Vesper-song of the Reverend Samuel Marsden Kenneth Slessor

11. The Vesper-song of the Reverend Samuel Marsden First Responses

12. Are there not Saints in holier skies Who have been scourged to Paradise? 0, Lord, when I have come to that, Grant there may be a Heavenly Cat With twice as many tails as here- And make me, God, Your Overseer. But if the veins of Saints be dead, Grant me a whip in Hell instead, Where blood is not so hard to fetch. But I, Lord, am Your humble wretch. - Kenneth Slessor VESPER-SONG OF THE REVEREND SAMUEL MARSDEN My cure of souls, my cage of brutes, Go lick and learn at these my boots! When tainted highways tear a hole, I bid my cobbler welt the sole. 0, ye that wear the boots of Hell, Shall I not welt a soul as well? 0, souls that leak with holes of sin, Shall I not let God's leather in, or hit with sacramental knout Your twice-convicted vileness out? Lord, I have sung with ceaseless lips A tinker's litany of whips, Have graved another Testament On backs bowed down and bodies bent. My stripes of jewelled blood repeat A scarlet Grace for holy meat. Not mine, the Hand that writes the weal On this, my vellum of puffed veal, Not mine, the glory that endures, But Yours, dear God, entirely Yours.

14. Language –vocabulary • Cure – pun: curates in the church have charge over a cure • sole: another pun human soul/ sole of a shoe • God’s leather i.e. A whip • Sacrament: a holy service • knout: another sort of whip • twice-convicted: i.e. A convict who has again broken the law • tinker’s litany: tinkers wares would clatter and rattle as they approached: a litany is a religious chant or song • graved: another pun: engraved/ sent to his grave • testament: Old and New... But note what the Bible says about anyone who writes ‘another testament

15. Language –vocabulary • stripes of jewelled blood: the marks of the whip – but note the metaphor! Like jewels! (Milton + false paradise?) • Grace: ‘state of Grace’ a state of spiritual contentment • weal: wound left by a whip • vellum: soft, thin leather, originally used for books (note the extended metaphor • glory is ironic: Gloria in excelsis deo Glory to God! Marsden hypocritically claims that he does all this for god • scourged: cleansed of sin by whipping. Suggests sado-masochism • cat: cat-o’ nine tails – a whip (but the multiple tails...) • overseer: responsible for supervising (and punishing) convicts • ‘grant me a whip in Hell instead’: if you don’t need someone to swing a whip in heaven....

16. Are there not Saints in holier skies Who have been scourged to Paradise? 0, Lord, when I have come to that, Grant there may be a Heavenly Cat With twice as many tails as here- And make me, God, Your Overseer. But if the veins of Saints be dead, Grant me a whip in Hell instead, Where blood is not so hard to fetch. But I, Lord, am Your humble wretch. VESPER-SONG OF THE REVEREND SAMUEL MARSDEN My cure of souls, my cage of brutes, Go lick and learn at these my boots! When tainted highways tear a hole, I bid my cobbler welt the sole. 0, ye that wear the boots of Hell, Shall I not welt a soul as well? 0, souls that leak with holes of sin, Shall I not let God's leather in, or hit with sacramental knout Your twice-convicted vileness out? Lord, I have sung with ceaseless lips A tinker's litany of whips, Have graved another Testament On backs bowed down and bodies bent. My stripes of jewelled blood repeat A scarlet Grace for holy meat. Not mine, the Hand that writes the weal On this, my vellum of puffed veal, Not mine, the glory that endures, But Yours, dear God, entirely Yours.

17. Are there not Saints in holier skies Who have been scourged to Paradise? 0, Lord, when I have come to that, Grant there may be a Heavenly Cat With twice as many tails as here- And make me, God, Your Overseer. But if the veins of Saints be dead, Grant me a whip in Hell instead, Where blood is not so hard to fetch. But I, Lord, am Your humble wretch. VESPER-SONG OF THE REVEREND SAMUEL MARSDEN My cure of souls, my cage of brutes, Go lick and learn at these my boots! When tainted highways tear a hole, I bid my cobbler welt the sole. 0, ye that wear the boots of Hell, Shall I not welt a soul as well? 0, souls that leak with holes of sin, Shall I not let God's leather in, or hit with sacramental knout Your twice-convicted vileness out? Lord, I have sung with ceaseless lips A tinker's litany of whips, Have graved another Testament On backs bowed down and bodies bent. My stripes of jewelled blood repeat A scarlet Grace for holy meat. Not mine, the Hand that writes the weal On this, my vellum of puffed veal, Not mine, the glory that endures, But Yours, dear God, entirely Yours.

19. Are there not Saints in holier skies Who have been scourged to Paradise? 0, Lord, when I have come to that, Grant there may be a Heavenly Cat With twice as many tails as here- And make me, God, Your Overseer. But if the veins of Saints be dead, Grant me a whip in Hell instead, Where blood is not so hard to fetch. But I, Lord, am Your humble wretch. VESPER-SONG OF THE REVEREND SAMUEL MARSDEN My cure of souls, my cage of brutes, Go lick and learn at these my boots! When tainted highways tear a hole, I bid my cobbler welt the sole. 0, ye that wear the boots of Hell, Shall I not welt a soul as well? 0, souls that leak with holes of sin, Shall I not let God's leather in, or hit with sacramental knout Your twice-convicted vileness out? Lord, I have sung with ceaseless lips A tinker's litany of whips, Have graved another Testament On backs bowed down and bodies bent. My stripes of jewelled blood repeat A scarlet Grace for holy meat. Not mine, the Hand that writes the weal On this, my vellum of puffed veal, Not mine, the glory that endures, But Yours, dear God, entirely Yours.