The resulting ‘Swan River Mania’ and the early failure of the settlers to thrive, led to Karl Marx in Das Kapital describing Perth as an object lesson in how not to establish a colony, where the availability of land meant masters struggled to maintain their workforce. It was certainly true that the early tenor of the colony was often one of disappointment and difficulty.
After a brief reconnoitre in 1827, Captain James Stirling, a young Scotsman, decided that the Swan River was the place best suited to establish a colony that he suggested calling ‘Hesperia’, indicating ‘a Country looking towards the setting Sun.’ Once he’d convinced familial allies in the British parliament to proceed with the colony, like with any real estate venture, the news of the impending establishment of Perth in 1829 was met with a deal of spruiking back in Britain, with flyers and advertisements taken out, designed to attract a caste of motivated and largely urban Britons, as a colony untainted by the ‘convict stain.’
The soils were not as fertile as promised, and the colony struggled to feed itself. This ‘bad news’ from Perth meant a slowing of migration to the point where the population remained static (at 2000) for much of its first decade, and where the scarcity of food led to conflict with the Whadjuk Nyungar, who had been dispossessed from their own sources of sustenance. Reprisal murders by warriors Midgegooroo and Yagan in particular led to reprisal raids by settler and soldier, and massacres occurred. The Whadjuk resistance and resilience is perhaps best demonstrated by the story of Fanny Balbuk, who according to Daisy Bates, the Irish Australian who recorded Indigenous culture in the first half of the twentieth century, despite the Georgian village built upon Balbuk’s traditional land, she continued to keep to her ‘straight track to the end. When a house was built in the way, she broke its fence palings with her digging stick and charged up the steps and through the rooms.’