John McDouall Stuart born Dysart, Fife 1815 – died London 1866
His parents died when he was in his early teens. Described as being delicate and small (height 168cm / weight 54kg). After graduating as a Civil Engineer from the Scottish Naval and Military Academy, he did not follow the family tradition of British Army Officer. At age 23, he sailed from Dundee for Australia on the maiden voyage of the barque Indus in September 1838. During the voyage, he had attacks of “vomiting blood”.
In Australia, Stuart made a total of six exploratory expeditions – the last from Adelaide to Darwin. He was hailed as a hero, but after the excitement waned, found himself without home or family, with permanent disabilities and health damaged by bouts of scurvy. He returned to Britain in 1864 and died a couple of years later. Only seven people attended his funeral in Kensal Green, London.
The house in Dysart where he was born is now a museum in his honour.
Bill Bryson the travel writer was in Perth promoting one of his books and an excerpt containing Stuart’s story was published in The West Australian newspaper. A bush-ballad-type song seemed appropriate, hinged on a story about an ‘S’ that Stuart carved in a tree.
Additional Acknowledgement: The John McDouall Stuart Society Inc.
Song sample
Driven – Lyrics
A traveller came to the West, with a tale to tell of an old gum tree
the books say should still have an S carved in the trunk for all to see
for all to seeFrom Daly Waters he drove out, a couple of miles down a hot dirt track
and tho’ he found an old dead gum, no S he found on the smooth grey bark,
smooth grey barkEnchanted by the harsh red land whose secret heart you longed to trace
Yet haunted by no fear or dread, as others caught up in the race,
caught in the raceFor you were driven by a need to draw aside the “centre’s veil”
sacrificing both health and sight, forsaking wealth and love’s appeal
and love’s appealAnd it’s little wonder spirits soared when you stumbled on the saving stream
It’s little wonder you felt moved, to mark the place that saved a dream,
that saved a dreamBut now it seems your ‘S’ may be gone, scoured by sand or seared by lightning’s flame
Weath’ring time has scant regard for driven Man’s desire to carve his name,
to carve his nameStill ‘Wee Scot’ your fame is assured by plaques, memorials, statues grand
and a great Highway runs south to north, bearing your name across the land,
across the land
across the land
© Words and Music by Grace McC. B. Reid