Saturday, 17 February 2024
La Perouse Museum, Anzac Parade, La Perouse
Her Excellency the Honourable Margaret Beazley AC KC, Governor of New South Wales

Bujari gamarruwa

Diyn Babana Gamarada Gadigal Ngura

I greet you today in the language of the Gadigal, the Traditional Owners of the land on which Government House stands. I acknowledge the Dharawal people, the traditional owners of the land here in La Perouse, and I pay my respects to their Elders past, present, and emerging.

• Mr Lawrence Buhagiar, Consul-General of Malta
• Councillor Philipa Veitch, Mayor, Randwick City

I pondered for some time what to speak about today, given that this series is now 11 years old.[1] Very generously, I was told it could be on a topic of my choosing. Potentially dangerous. My French tutor, Vincent, suggested Nicolas Baudin and so I went on a voyage of discovery to learn more about an expeditioner little known generally in our colonial history.

What I found was a man at different times wedged between major European conflicts, caught up in the political machinations of Bonaparte’s new Republic, invariably nurturing his own ambitions but thwarted by his commoner status and who, seemingly, had his own road of Damascus moment.   Indeed, in reading his story there were times when I felt that I was reading a late 18^th/early 19^th century version of Nemesis.[2]

Politics aside, and for those of you already steeped in the history of this idyllic corner of our coastline, bearing the name of French Navigator Jean-Francois de Galaup, comte de Lapérouse, you might then wonder why I have chosen this somewhat hapless sea captain who seemed to manage to sail into more bad storms than on a weather map in the cyclone season.  

As it turns out, the man himself is fascinating. The period in which he ventured forth on the high seas was at a time of high drama in European history and, as more recent research has revealed, he had been badly done by in the scientific and cartographic history of his expedition to the continental land mass of what was still known as New Holland. 

As this annual speaking series is famously held here at La Perouse, one might add that Lapérouse himself was outwitted by the seas when his ships the Astrolabe and Boussole disappeared without a trace. Whilst King Louis XVI’s apocryphal last question “is there any news of Lapérouse?” went unanswered, it is now established that both ships came to grief off the Solomon Islands. What is not so well known is that some of the 225 officers, sailors and scientists on board survived the shipwreck and spent some months onshore building a ‘two masted craft’, hoping to navigate themselves back to France – but it too disappeared.  

There is a fairly recent suggestion that craft came to peril on the Great Barrier Reef and, although there were again some survivors, they perished in fights with the local inhabitants of Murray Island. According to an account of a marooned seaman of another shipwreck, the lone survivor of that part of the Lapérouse story was actually a small boy, who ‘was saved and brought up by the local people “as one of their own”.’[3]   

Let me return to Baudin. 

Baudin’s career with the French navy began as a cadet in 1775 on an expedition to Mauritius and India.  Acquitting himself well, it appeared he was in for an early promotion.  As happened more than once in his career, that didn’t come about and, in 1778, after a short break, he resumed his naval career which, this time, took him to the American Islands. The American War of Independence, in which France sided with the American colonists, was in full play and thus it was not the best time for a Frenchman to be in the vicinity, as Baudin discovered.   

In April 1778, Baudin was shipwrecked and captured by the British. He escaped; walked from Halifax, where he had been imprisoned, to Boston where he rejoined the French navy, this time as captain of the Amphitrite. That ship came to grief at the hands of the English, but Baudin was able to escape and found his way back to Boston, where he took on the captaincy of the Revanche. He was again captured by the British but released in a prisoner of war exchange: plus ca change, plus plus c’est la meme chose.

Baudin at this time was but 24 years of age. Another blow to his hopes of promotion came in 1780 when, being a mere commoner, he was removed from the command of the Appollon to be replaced by an officer of the noble class.  This would not be the first time his career would be thwarted by his commoner status. Indeed, it is a significant part of the story of his expedition to New Holland. 

The next period of his life saw Baudin in the Merchant Navy, which included a period transporting and, at least on one occasion, the opportunistic selling, of slaves. It is this period which caused me to refer to Baudin as a hapless sea captain. Between 1788 and 1793 he captained three ships each of which he named Jardiniére – or planter. The first was obtained in Trieste and was destroyed by a cyclone, although, luckily for Baudin, he was ashore conducting business. Some of his crew, still on board, were not so lucky. The second, obtained shortly afterwards met the same fate as the first – destroyed by a cyclone. Baudin must not have been superstitious, for he bought a third boat named the Gloria, which he renamed Jardiniére. This third and final Jardiniére was wrecked off Cape Agulhas,[4] the most southern coastal village in South Africa. After that shipwreck, Baudin decided to cut his losses in the Merchant Navy and made his way back to France.

However, his time in the Merchant Navy was pivotal in connecting him with the scientific voyages taking place around the world by different European empires.  With his propensity to captain ill-fated ships, he had been forced into making a number of unplanned stays in various ports. On one such occasion in 1787, during a stay at the Cape of Good Hope, by happenchance, he met Franz Boos, the Botanist and head gardener of Joseph II, Emperor of Austria.[5] He was captivated.

Baudin was thus transformed from slave transporter and sometime slave trader to an avid scientific explorer. It was said that this newfound interest in botany informed his naming of the Jardiniéres I, II and III. Some 15 years later, it brought him to this continent.

In the Spring of 1800, Baudin presented a proposal to Bonaparte, as First Consul, for a voyage that would ‘interest the whole of Europe’. His initial proposal featured exploration of the coastlines of Africa, the Americas, Hawaii, Tonga and New Holland, involving an expedition comprising at least three ships and which was to be ‘an even greater enterprise’ than that of Lapérouse in 1785-1788.[6]

The voyage which was ultimately sanctioned ‘little resembled that which Baudin originally proposed’.[7]  As approved, it involved two ships and three times the number of naturalists and scientists that Baudin had requested – although in number only twenty-two – and the scope of the expedition was ‘highly circumscribed: it would be a scientific voyage concentrated on the shores of Australia.’[8]

This shift away from the scope of Baudin’s initial proposal was principally due to the French Institut National’s assessment that ‘global voyages of discovery were no longer needed’ as previous ‘celebrated expeditions’ had already determined the existence of all the major landmasses of the world. What was needed instead was a voyage ‘restricted to specific, pre-determined, points, directed to the least-known coastlines…to archipelagos of which the number of islands, their size, their outline and the populations that inhabit them remain to be verified.’[9]

The plan prepared by Comte de Fleurieu for Baudin, referred to a ‘voyage of observation and research relating to Geography and Natural History’.[10]  However, the official itinerary directed Baudin ‘to take particular care in charting the south-east coast [of New Holland] but also [to] extend his exploration to the western, northern and Tasmanian coastlines.’[11] The plan continued to stress the benefits of the expedition for the progress of science, but included the strategic knowledge that may be gained from further exploration of the Bass and Torres Straits.  

In brief, what was apparent was that Napolean-era France was interested in la terre Australe as the then most important region to reconnoitre,[12] although for what purpose is less apparent. However, from the official itinerary a settlement on Van Diemen’s Land was arguably in its sights. At least Governor Sir Phillip Gidley King seems to have thought so, as I will explain.

Baudin left France on 18 October 1800 and, after stopping at the ports of Tenerife, Louis and Mauritius, on 27 May 1801 he sighted Cape Leeuwin on the southern tip of Western Australia. He travelled north, first discovering and naming Geographe Bay, also on the southern tip of Western Australia, had a four month lay over in Timor before setting out for Van Diemen’s Land on 13 November 1801 – a three month journey – arriving in February 1802. He charted the complex south-eastern part of the island collecting many specimens along the way.

At this point, Matthew Flinders enters the story. The Géographe and the Naturaliste had become separated off the coast of Tasmania.  The Géographe continued through Bass Strait along the southern continental coast.  Baudin and his crew did not find this part of the expedition particularly exhilarating until a ship’s sail appeared in the distance.  

It was Matthew Flinders, who had been doing his own mapping of the southern coast.  Although the encounter wasn’t particularly welcomed by the French, it was cordial and is famously memorialised in the name Flinders gave to the place where they met – Encounter Bay – which lies at the mouth of what is now the Murray River and the city of Victor Harbour.

Flinders was not overly complimentary of his French rival, whom he described as amiable enough but a ‘less than competent navigator’.[13]  Indeed, Flinders thought Baudin’s charts to be ‘rather below mediocrity’.[14] This view was possibly influenced by the French attributing their names to coastlines that had been first surveyed by Flinders.[15]

It also meant that Baudin and his crew realised Flinders had beaten them to the punch in fully surveying the south coast.  It was a psychological blow, as those on the Géographe also realised they had a competitor whose explorations would act as a benchmark against which their expedition would be judged.[16]  

Baudin decided to sojourn in Port Jackson arriving in the Spring of 1802, where he found not only the separated Naturaliste but also the Flinders expedition, which had arrived with news of its encounter with the Géographe on the south coast. This was only a few months after the signing of the Treaty of Amiens,[17] which saw the end of hostilities between France, the Spanish Empire and Great Britain, news of which did not arrive in the colony until the day after Flinders returned to Port Jackson.[18]

The arrival of the Naturaliste and then the Géographe was greeted reasonably cordially by Governor King, but with sufficient caution for him to confine their movements to Sydney Town unless they obtained the Governor’s permission to explore further.[19]

Whilst news of the Treaty meant the relationship between the French and Governor King relaxed somewhat it appears that King’s cordiality did not relieve his underlying suspicion that the French intended to establish a settlement, either on the South or the West Coast of the continent, as he reported to the Duke of Portland, then Home Secretary. King again sought permission from the colonial office to form a colony at Port Phillip.[20]

King’s suspicions may have been well-founded. Hamelin, the captain of the Naturaliste, had compiled details of and about Port Jackson which would have facilitated an invasion, such as how to enter the port safely, the size of the army and the like.[21]

After a 5 month sojourn, and Baudin having sent the Naturaliste back to France, partly to rid himself of some of his pesky critics on the Naturaliste – mostly the noblemen who resented his lower status – but importantly also with the specimens collected to that point. The Géographe left Port Jackson on 17 November 1802 for Van Diemen’s Land.

What Baudin didn’t know was that Governor King had sent the Cumberland on his trail. On 7 December, Baudin commenced a ‘sojourn [on] King Island’. A few days later, a letter arrived from Governor King. In an excerpt from his journal, Baudin wrote, ‘After looking at Mr King’s letter, I read his instructions, which I probably do not know in full, for he will not have shown me everything. But the contents of Mr King’s letter threw enough light on the matter for me to realise the purpose of his voyage, which was quite simply to watch us.’[22] Baudin then included a translation of King’s letter in its entirety.

According to Baudin’s translation, King wrote:

‘You will no doubt be surprised to see a ship so close on your heels. You are acquainted with my intention to establish a settlement in the South; however it has been hastened by information communicated to me immediately after your departure. This information is to the effect that the French wish to set up an establishment in Storm Bay Passage [D’Entrecasteaux Channel] or in the area known as Frederik Hendrik Bay. It is also said that these are your orders from the French Republic. This is what Colonel Patterson told me after your departure, having himself been informed by a person from your ship.

You will easily imagine that had I had such information before you left, I would have asked you for an explanation of it, but I knew nothing about it. At present I do not even believe it and consider it to be idle gossip…’

Had a member of Baudin’s party leaked information to Governor King, or was King engaging in a little propaganda to unsettle Baudin, King having been suspicious from the beginning? Again, one simply doesn’t know.

Baudin wrote two letters in reply: an “official” response which contained a defence of his government’s interests and a denial of any attempt to claim Tasmania on behalf of the new French Republic.[23] The other was a “private” letter, although there is no reference to that letter in his diary.[24]

The private letter commenced thus: ‘After responding to your letter in your capacity as Captain-General of the English settlements of New South Wales, I now write to you as my friend Mr King, whom I shall always hold in particularly high regard.’

Baudin continued with a reflection on the colony extraordinary for the time. He wrote it was ‘inconceivable’ to him ‘that there was any justice or even fairness on the part of the Europeans in seizing, in the name of their government’ land that was already inhabited. He said it would be ‘infinitely more glorious’ if France and Britain were to support and educate their own people, than to try and do so to inhabitants in a distant land. He fully appreciated his words were ‘certainly not those of a politician’ but that if the British government had focused on the issues facing their own people, they ‘would not have had to establish a colony with men branded by the law and made criminals through the fault of [the] government which has neglected them and left them to fend for themselves.’

He signed off the letter, ‘I am in every way, for a gentleman and friend, Your servant, N.Baudin’.

I leave you to ponder whether Baudin had gained wisdom with age, had become imbued with the principles of the Republic or had seen sufficient of the Indigenous population on his various sojourns to have some understanding of this unique country and its peoples. Did Baudin sense that his private letter with its criticisms of his own Government’s territorial ambitions might not have gone down well in France? Another unknown.

There is of course much more detail in the story of Baudin’s expedition, including the drubbing he got from those of the noble class, particularly Freycinet, who, with Francois Péron, also a naturalist travelling on Baudin’s expedition, actively sought ‘to expunge Baudin’s name from the official account’ of the expedition. But time defeats me.

Baudin set sail for home, became ill, and called into Mauritius where he died on 16 September 1803. In recent years his legacy has been given the greater attention that it deserves.

[1] The Inaugural Pierre Roussel Memorial Lecture was presented in 2014 by the Hon Matt Thistlethwaite: https://laperousemuseum.files.wordpress.com/2014/12/pierre-roussel-lecture-mt.pdf

[2] Nemesis (2024 Television Series): https://iview.abc.net.au/show/nemesis

[3] https://www.smh.com.au/national/mystery-of-missing-french-explorer-la-perouse-may-have-been-cracked-by-anu-researcher-20170830-gy6uhk.html

[4] Eric Berti and Ivan Barko, French Lives in Australia (Australian Scholarly Publishing, 2015), p 43-45.

[5] Eric Berti and Ivan Barko, French Lives in Australia (Australian Scholarly Publishing, 2015), 42.

[6] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p1.

[7] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p1.

[8] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p2.

[9] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p2.

[10] Extract from the Journal of Nicolas Baudin 1800 – 1803, translated from the French by Christine Cornell, p1.

[11] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p20.

[12] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p20.

[13] John West-Sooby and Jean Fornasiero, ‘Matthew Flinders through French Eyes: Nicolas Baudin’s Lessons from Encounter Bay, 52(1) Journal of Pacific History 2017, p 2.

[14] John West-Sooby and Jean Fornasiero, ‘Matthew Flinders through French Eyes: Nicolas Baudin’s Lessons from Encounter Bay, 52(1) Journal of Pacific History 2017, p 3 citing T.G Vallance, D.T Moore and E.W Groves (eds), Nature’s Investigator: the diary of Robert Brown in Australia, 1801 – 1805 (Canberra 2001), 178, 179.

[15] John West-Sooby and Jean Fornasiero, ‘Matthew Flinders through French Eyes: Nicolas Baudin’s Lessons from Encounter Bay, 52(1) Journal of Pacific History 2017, p 2.

[16] Journal of Pacific History p 4

[17] The Treaty of Amiens was signed on 27 March 1802. See: https://www.britannica.com/event/Treaty-of-Amiens-1802

[18] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p 27.

[19] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p 26.

[20] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p 27.

[21] Nicole Starbuck, Baudin, Napoleon and the Exploration of Australia (2016, Routledge), p 28.

[22] Extract from the Journal of Nicolas Baudin 1800 – 1803, translated from the French by Christine Cornell, p441-442.

[23] Jean Fornasiero, Reflections of a Philosophical Voyager, Nicolas Baudin Letter to Philip Gidley King 24 December 1802 (2016, The Friends of the State Library of South Australia), p 9-10.

[24] Extract from the Journal of Nicolas Baudin 1800 – 1803, translated from the French by Christine Cornell, p452-453. Baudin only makes mention of 1 letter to Governor King that he handed a Mr Cooper to take back with him.