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And yet perhaps both men drew from thepoverty of Ireland a grim respect for thesecurity which property can bring, and a determinationto be masters of property. Certainlyno rational economic calculation canexplain entirely the consuming land-hungerwhich led the Duracks and the Costellos andtheir kin to throw their possessions, their wives,and their young children into the harsh andhazardous Cooper country of Queensland—andhaving won through to prosperity there, tostart in on another round of pioneering in aKimberley district which, at the time of itsopening, was two years' overlanding awayfrom supplies and markets. This willingnessto hazard all one's resources in the cause ofdevelopment, trusting to skill and Providenceto justify the venture, is a recurrent featurein the history of Northern development; itis the same vindication with which Mr CharlesCourt defends the Ord Scheme against thecriticism of Sir Mark OUphant. And yet, too,one gets the feeling that what interested thepioneer Duracks—we shan't pursue the analogywith Mr Court—was the venture as an end initself, the excitement of pitting one's witsagainst the environment and wresting successfrom it. When success came, as it came toPatrick Durack on Thylungra in Queensland,he hardly seemed to know what to do with it.He concentrated all his energies into the newKimberley scheme, and, ceasing to pay attentionto his Queensland properties, lost themthrough unwise investment in city real estateand through bringing his properties into a companypartnered by speculators who were lesssound than they looked. So he failed at last inQueensland, and it was the Kimberley venturewhich had to support his sons.And this relationship between father andsons touches on an Australian theme whichneeds further exploring. Sociologists who havestudied the man on the land in Austraha informus that many farmers and graziers regardtheir properties as an extension of their personalities,and gain a good deal of assurance fromthe notion of building up something for theirsons to inherit. In the case of the Duracks, thisfeeling was reinforced not only by Irish clannishness,as evidenced by the continuing chainmigration through which Patrick Durack assistedremote kinsfolk and friends to emigrateto Australia' but also—and this is more unexpected—witha firm belief in primogeniture.The future was clearly planned for youngDuracks. Younger sons might go into theprofessions, for like many of the Irish, theolder Duracks had a naive but powerful respectfor learning; but the elder sons weredestined irrevocably to inherit and manage thefamily's lands. So it was Patrick's first-born,the intellectual and unhandy M. P. Durack,who had to shoulder the burden of the Kimberleyinheritance. Contrary to his father'sadvice and experience he chose to take partnersfor the Kimberley holdings; contrary tohis sons' advice and experience, he determinedin the last month of his fife in 1950 to sellout all but a rump of the family properties,deliberately abandoning the task which hisfather had set him to carry out throughout hislong life. If that hackneyed term 'a love-haterelationship' has any vahdity, it describes M.P. Durack's reactions to the Kimberleys. Hewas the perfect foil to his uncompUcated andexuberant father, and although his career isbarely sketched in the concluding chapters ofthe book, enough is stated to draw an effectivecontrast. There have been so many fathers inAustralia like Patrick Durack, men who havefounded properties, built up businesses, madea great name in law or politics—and then lefttheir sons the problems of living up to the inheritance.Compared with many second generationinheritors, M. P. Durack asserted hisown personaUty rather successfully; but notwithout difficulty.One could go on reflecting about the manyissues raised in Kings in Grass Castles, but Iwant to end by making one comment about itstechnical construction which partly accountsfor its success. It is one of the very few historicalworks where, besides using the orthodoxtools of the historian, it has been possible todraw on oral history to give the actual wordsand intonations of past conversations. Normallybiographers who want to enliven theirnarratives with direct speech have either toinvent—which is a gross malpractice in history—or to forego the idea. Because of reUableand extensive family traditions, Mary Durackhas been able to quote the speech of her charactersfairly, accurately and vividly. This is arare stroke of luck; but it makes for aneminently readable narrative.WESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1968