Back in the 1950s, controversial weekly magazine the Bulletin published dozens of letters colonial woman Rachel Henning had written, largely to her sister Etta, from 1854 onwards. It was a detailed record of nearly 30 years of Australian pioneering life, natural and cultural history that was eventually collected into the book The Letters of Rachel Henning.
But the serialised letters – which earned popular acclaim – were not as Rachel had penned them.
While this editorial manipulation was first identified decades ago, the deeper impact of the changes had not been fully explored until now. Lucy’s research examines how the edits reflected the values of those who shaped the publication, and not those of the author herself, who had died in 1914.
In 1985, author and historian Geoffrey Dutton famously called Rachel Henning “the original whinging Pom”, declaring that “Australia was well rid of her”. But where did that image come from?
Lucy’s Master of Philosophy research shows that it wasn’t just the letters themselves, but also how they were packaged for publication that influenced public perceptions. Introductions, illustrations and editorial framing altered the meaning of Rachel’s letters and changed how readers understood her.
“Henning’s nuanced reflections on colonial life were stripped of all complexity,” says Lucy, a UNE Master of Philosophy candidate. “Her intellect, emotional depth and candid observations were flattened into the stereotype of a snobbish and homesick Englishwoman. Meanwhile, her brother Biddulph was celebrated as a robust, masculine pioneer.”
Rachel Henning’s original letters included frank observations about marriage, caregiving and household life – showing how gender shaped everyday roles. These were edited out, leaving a more romanticised and selective version of her experience.
Lucy’s interest in how women are represented in cultural heritage spaces was sparked by Toni Church’s work on museum exhibitions, which shows how curatorial language can either reinforce stereotypes or restore women’s autonomy. She draws a parallel between museum curation and editorial framing in print.
“It’s not just what’s included; it’s how it’s presented,” says Lucy, whose research shows that Hilda Henning – Biddulph’s daughter – played an active role in shaping the narrative, influencing editorial decisions alongside Bulletin editor David Adams.
Just like a museum label can shape how we see a historical figure, editorial framing can reshape a woman’s voice to fit someone else’s story.
“History isn’t fixed,” Lucy says. “It changes depending on who’s telling the story.
“We’re becoming more aware of how AI can rewrite documents and how fake news can distort reality, but these aren’t new tactics. The same strategies have long been used to shape history: selective editing, strategic framing and controlling whose voice gets heard.”
Lucy says we can ask the same questions of historical storytelling as we do of news articles today. Who shaped this version of events? What was left out? Whose voice was amplified, and whose was silenced?
“These questions help us think critically about how stories are constructed, and whose interests they serve. They’re a way to challenge the version of events we’re given and to start rewriting the record with care and integrity.”
Which just goes to show the enduring power of letters.
“If you have old letters at home, keep them, share them and protect them,” Lucy says. “In some literary circles, letters have been seen as too informal or lacking in the qualities usually associated with serious literature, but they were one of the few spaces where women in the late 1800s could speak freely, about their lives, their thoughts and their world. They’re not just personal keepsakes. They’re history in waiting, and they might just help rewrite women back into the narrative.”
