In 1934 Tasmanian potter Violet Mace created a ceramic 'proclamation cup' painted with a series of images derivative of those depicted on the well-known proclamation boards distributed by Governor George Arthur in Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania) in late 1829 or early 1830 to 'conciliate' Aboriginal people on the frontier. This paper explores Mace's cup as both a historical souvenir and a reworking or quotation within the popular culture of Tasmania's settler-colonial society during the early twentieth century. As the paper reveals, Mace's cup and related works are best understood within a rich series of derivatives and reworkings including lithographs, lantern slides and postcards — an established visual vernacular — that emerged from the original proclamation images over the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. But Mace's personal connection to the town of Bothwell, a major site of frontier warfare must also be considered. Mace's cup resides within the complex intersections of local and colonial history, Tasmania's emergent ceramics arts movement and growing tourism industry, and tells us much about settler remembrance and forgetting concerning Tasmania's difficult contact history between Aboriginal people and settlers.

In 2005 the National Museum of Australia acquired a decorated and glazed ceramic cup made by Tasmanian potter Violet Mace. Created in 1934 and sometimes referred to as the 'proclamation cup' (Fig. 1), this small wheel-thrown earthenware cup is hand-painted with a series of images clearly derivative of those found in the sequence of scenes that depict Aborigines, British military and convicts from the well-known proclamation boards distributed by Governor George Arthur in Van Diemen's Land (Tasmania) in late 1829 or early 1830 to conciliate Aboriginal people (Fig. 2).[1]

Mace is now widely recognised as one of Tasmania's founding studio potters and her work is represented in several of Australia's major public collecting institutions[2]. Over the past 15 years several scholars have explored and affirmed her important contribution to the visual arts movement in the south-eastern states of Australia throughout the 1920s, 30s and 40s. They have also drawn attention to her innovative use of Aboriginal motifs in her ceramic work. Little specific attention, however, has been paid to this curious cup with its proclamation imagery, or to related ceramic works by Mace that depict a charged period in Tasmania's colonial history. Why did Mace make this cup? What were her motivations in selecting these particular historical motifs 100 years after they were first rendered on the proclamation boards?

Objects are inscribed with social and symbolic meaning, and a close examination of their manufacture, circulation and reception in specific times and localities tells us much about prevailing public culture. As curator John Freeland has observed regarding art objects such as Australian decorative ceramics, the discourse between art practitioners and their audiences pivots on common reference points, and such artwork is 'influenced by, and speaks about Australian culture'.[3] Yet, as I suggest in this paper, Mace's cup is more than a cultural reference point: it may also be understood as a 'colonial quotation'. Such works, as art historian Joan Kerr noted well over a decade ago, pay tribute to or even parody and critique more traditional renderings. Such colonial quotations, Kerr argued, mark a rich visual heritage that is barely known but one that Australian artists 'have long appreciated'.[4] In the past few decades, many Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists, inspired by a post-colonial politics, have sampled, quoted, paid tribute to and subverted artworks and photographs from the colonial period.

In this paper I explore Mace's cup, with its historical imagery, as both a historical souvenir and a reworking or quotation within the popular culture of Tasmania's settler-colonial society during the early twentieth century — a formative period in the creative arts. I explore the cup's production in the context of Tasmania's social history, fledgling studio ceramics movement and emergent tourism, which sought to trade on Tasmania's natural environment and convict past, as well as its difficult colonial contact history between Aboriginal people and settlers.

The original proclamation images of 1829–30 are some of the most recognisable and potent symbols of the colonial era in Tasmania, displaying an apparent concern for equal justice and a desire for harmonious relations between two cultures. The proclamation boards, several of which are held in major Australian collecting institutions, depict a British aspiration for 'conciliation' and promise equality before the law for Aboriginal and European subjects alike, so long as Aborigines transform themselves into civilised subjects.[5] The painted proclamation cup depicts all four scenes of the original proclamation board imagery distributed by Governor Arthur in late 1829 and early 1830, albeit transposed into a three-dimensional ceramic format. The first scene depicts mutual friendship between settlers and Aborigines; the second is a conciliation scene showing an Aboriginal 'chief' and a British military official or governor shaking hands; the third depicts an Aboriginal man spearing a white man or ex-convict, who is then hanged while the governor looks on. The fourth scene, the corollary of the third, depicts a white man or ex-convict shooting an Aboriginal man, and in an apparent show of equal justice the white man is then hanged. Yet, the boards were made after the 1829 declaration of martial law against Tasmania's Aboriginal people, and the hangings from trees actually depict moments of summary justice and retribution on a violent frontier. These images have been reworked and capitalised over time, and used in various public formats such as nineteenth-century slide lectures and exhibitions. More recently the images have been reproduced in Australian history textbooks and become a visual shorthand for the often-violent contact history of Van Diemen's Land. Despite this, little new historical work or reflection has taken place on the meaning of these images and the derivatives or reworkings of them in various media that have emerged at specific times and locales. I argue that Mace's proclamation-inspired ceramic works do not fit neatly within that body of her work inspired by Aboriginal themes and motifs, but may be better understood within other frames of reference such as the local, colonial influences of Mace's own town, Bothwell, and the emergence of a Tasmanian tourist industry and the growing popularity of historical tourism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. [6]

Early in her career Violet Mace possessed a historical sensibility, which is worthy of exploration. Well before she looked outwards to the remote mainland Aboriginal culture of central and northern Australia for artistic inspiration, she looked to her home and into the not-so-distant colonial past of Van Diemen's Land to depict imagery from its settler-colonial history. Close historical contextualisation and consideration of the cup reveal Mace's personal and public, as well as creative and commercial, motivations. It also suggests much about the nature of social remembrance in settler society, and the 'narratives of conciliation', as I term them — stories of conflict and appeasement, violence and humanitarianism — that were circulated and re-narrated in popular visual and literary culture concerning the early contact history of Van Diemen's Land.[7] As I show, the proclamation images have been used at various times and in various localities to communicate these stories to local, national and international audiences. Many of these stories have been celebratory; some have been misremembered and fraught.

In Van Diemen's Land in November 1828, amid a climate of frontier violence and in response to settler pressure, Lieutenant Governor Arthur declared martial law against the 'Black or Aboriginal natives' within the settled districts of the island.[8] About three months later, on 4 February 1829, George Frankland, the Surveyor General of the colony, suggested to Governor Arthur that communication with Aboriginal people might be made possible through pictures.[9] He wrote to Arthur:

In the absence of all successful communication with these unfortunate people with whose language we are totally unacquainted, it has occurred to me that it might be possible to impart to them to a certain extent, the real wishes of the government towards them ... It is at best an experiment, but as it will be attended by neither expense nor inconvenience, your Excellency may consider it worth trying.[10]

In a later letter to Under-Secretary RW Hay of the Colonial Office, Frankland wrote that the boards were designed to 'make [Aboriginal people] understand the cause of the present warfare and its desired termination by the medium of pictures. It is but an experiment', added Frankland, 'but everything ought to be tried to accomplish a reconciliation'.[11] The boards, depicting equal justice for Aboriginal people and settlers alike, were nailed to trees and given to Aboriginal people by the British military on the frontier in the hope of communicating a desire for conciliation. We have evidence of these boards being given out at the behest of the governor.[12] Such friendly relations depicted on the boards, however, were never to eventuate. By late 1830 Arthur had lost faith in the possibility of conciliation. In November of the same year he wrote of the government's 'failing in every endeavour to conciliate, and the outrages of the Savages being more daring and their murders and robberies more systematically conducted'.[13]

Aboriginal groups in frontier areas conducted strategic, successful, guerrilla-style resistance fighting against settler incursions into their lands. Settlers responded in kind, often with even greater violence, and this period is referred to as the Black War (1824–31). Arthur's desperate solution was for 'the earnest and hearty cooperation of the whole of European population to capture them, with least possible destruction of life, or to drive them into Tasman's Peninsula'.[14] As is now well known, a six-week military-style campaign by the British, commonly referred to as the Black Line, was waged from 7 October to 24 November 1830.[15] The Black Line was considered to be a failure, with the capture of only two Aboriginal people. Later, Arthur lamented that a treaty should have been made between Aboriginal people and the British crown.[16]

The proclamation boards were therefore made during a period of charged contact and frontier violence, between the 1828 declaration of martial law and the Black Line of 1830, which required a further declaration of martial law. They represented, at least in theory, an aspiration for the best aspects of British jurisprudence and have been popularly viewed as 'conciliation' boards. However, as legal scholar Desmond Manderson argues regarding the boards' essential message, Aboriginal people were offered protection though the rule of law but only in exchange for a radical transformation to European ways. It was thus a case of equal justice deferred. The boards were distributed to Aboriginal people in the very midst of frontier conflict; they are constitutive of colonial relations at the time, not artistic reflections of them made at a later date. As I have argued elsewhere, the imagery on the boards promised a harmonious future that was never to become reality; nevertheless, they should be viewed as instruments of diplomacy, despite their failure to effect a conciliation.[17]

In 1890, some 60 years after the peak of frontier violence, Violet Mace was born at the property 'Cambria', near Swansea, on the eastern coast of Tasmania. Moving in 1920 to the town of Bothwell, situated in the midlands of Tasmania, Mace began studying pottery with her cousin, the established potter Maude Poynter, at the studio and residence 'Ratho'. Mace remained at Ratho until 1940, although she spent several years in England from late 1929 to the early 1930s, where she attended the Camberwell School of Arts and Crafts, London.[18] During this time Mace also studied with the studio of Bernard Leach, one of Britain's best-known studio potters. She returned to Tasmania and by 1934 was again living and working at Ratho. In the following year she took over the Ratho studio when Poynter left to work and live in Hobart. Poynter and Mace exhibited their works together with the Arts and Crafts Society of Tasmania on a regular basis and are often referred to as two of Tasmania's 'pioneer craftswomen'.[19]

Mace's pottery works were largely small-scale domestic wares. As Glenda King relates, prior to Mace's trip to England her pottery reflected the influence of Poynter, as shown in her use of strong colours and painted and incised decorations, although these were 'less exuberant than those of Poynter'.[20] From about 1937, however, a departure from Poynter's influence is apparent in Mace's work when her forms became 'simpler and colours more subdued'.[21] Poynter's and Mace's earthenware works are reflective of the time and context in which they were made. Much Tasmanian early nineteenth-century colonial pottery had been crude and utilitarian due to the difficulty of obtaining clay and glazes. Even by the early twentieth century, equipment and materials required for refined studio work were expensive and hard to acquire. Many potters dug their own clay and made their own glazes. Poynter tested local clays and her own glazes, but her experiments demonstrated that it was more advantageous to purchase clay from Launceston and glazes from Wenger's, Stoke-on-Trent, in England.[22] In studios such as Ratho, much small-scale domestic ware was made of earthenware, owing partly to the constraints of the clay type and the wood- and coke-fired kilns available at the time. It was not until 1928, for example, that Sydney potter Vi Eyre owned and used a gas kiln — one of the first Australian potters to do so.[23]

During her career Mace exhibited regularly in Tasmania, Victoria and New South Wales. She showed her work annually with the New South Wales Arts and Crafts Society from 1927 to 1942. The Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences (Powerhouse Museum) purchased her work from the society's exhibitions of 1928 and 1929, and the Art Gallery of New South Wales acquired examples in 1927 and 1929.[24] During the inter-war period, Mace, Poynter and others such as potter Mylie Peppin and china painter Mildred Lovett were influential artists and teachers, and are considered to have been role models for future generations of women artists and potters in Tasmania. They were significant contributors to the arts and crafts movement in Tasmania and to a foundational and vibrant period of studio pottery there and throughout Australia.[25]

Mace has been described by historians Catherine Ackland and Colin Campbell as a 'unique and unorthodox' woman.[26] By the 1930s she had developed an interest in Aboriginal art and design, as had other artists of the time, and this influenced her ceramic work. She wrote to several central and northern Australian missions requesting that they send Aboriginal paintings and patterns, which she adapted to her ceramics.[27] In 1934 she visited central Australia, including Hermannsburg mission, where her study of Aboriginal paintings influenced the decorative style of her work, such as her stylised plant and insect motifs and geometric designs. During this trip Mace collected Aboriginal drawings and artefacts, including a sketchbook by Albert Namatjira (1934) and children's pencil drawings, which she later donated to the South Australian Museum.[28] As curator Glenda King notes, Mace developed 35 designs appropriated from Aboriginal art based on her experiences in central Australia. Mace also possessed a sketchbook of Queensland Aboriginal shield designs and she drew on these motifs too for her decorative ceramic work.[29]

Although reflective of a wider and growing trend occurring on the mainland during the 1930s, such adaptations in Tasmania were innovative. By this time, many non-Indigenous artists on the mainland had begun to adapt Australian Aboriginal designs and motifs in their work, notable examples being Margaret Preston, Carl Cooper and exhibitors at the Arts and Craft Society of New South Wales, including Grace Seccombe, Nell Holden and Olive Nock.[30] Although some have described this process as one of cultural appropriation or even exploitation, for other non-Indigenous artists it was a 'new way of seeing', as Freeland suggests, and much in line with changing social and political movements of the early twentieth century, which took a more progressive view of Aboriginal people and their culture. A dish made in 1942 with a stylised decoration of a figure playing a didjeridu is typical of this work by Mace (Fig. 4).

Mace had a strong interest in Tasmanian history. The archives of the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery in Launceston hold Mace's correspondence of 1936, in which she searches out information about historical objects and reveals an ongoing interest in such material as a source for her decorative ceramic work.[31] The proclamation cup is not the only example of such historically themed work by Mace. Although few items of this type appear in public collections, a 'proclamation jug' made in 1928 of similar style, palette and decoration, with the appearance of a milk jug, is also held in the collection of the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery (Fig. 5).

Like the cup, the jug is made from hand-thrown earthenware and its painted detail appears to have been executed with a quick, loose hand. The simple forms, slightly rough quality and quickly applied decoration of both these pieces suggest that they may have been made for the tourist market. Few public collections appear to hold examples of works inspired by or depicting the proclamation themes. Indeed, the cup and jug are rare, although examples are undoubtedly held in private collections.[32] I suggest that the cup and jug and related items were not judged by contemporary collectors to be examples of serious, refined artistic output, but may instead have been viewed as tourist ware, and therefore of less apparent significance and value, explaining their under-representation in major collections. Although the value at auction of such historically themed objects has risen considerably in the past decade or so, collectors have generally been slow to recognise the significance of Mace's ceramic works inspired by the colonial past.

Mace and Poynter looked to contemporary themes as well as to the past for inspiration. As King notes, Poynter's work was colourful and often featured animals, plants and her own interpretations of contemporary events.[33] The Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery holds a vase made by Poynter in 1929 depicting a polar bear looking up at a plane flying over an icy landscape, apparently commemorating Australian Hubert Wilkins' first flight over the Antarctic continent in 20 December 1928, an event that attracted much publicity at the time. Wilkins had previously completed the first flight across the Arctic.[34] Poynter also looked to the past for historically inspired designs. A lidded jar made in 1924 exhibits gargoyle handles, the design having been taken from a manuscript in the British Museum.[35] It seems such works sold well: an article by the Hobart Mercury featuring Poynter's first exhibition in 1924 noted 'there is good demand for the work'.[36]

Poynter and Mace sold their ceramic works to the public from the Ratho studio and at two venues in Hobart: Sarginson's jewellery shop and Jean Spong's art gallery.[37] In 1920s Hobart, jewellery shops were a prime location for the sale of decorative and tourist ware. Harold Sarginson, one of Tasmania's best-known silversmiths, also sold finely made souvenir teaspoons depicting the map of Tasmania and historic themes. The Mercury ran many advertisements for merchants, including jewellers, promoting 'remembrance gifts and souvenirs' and 'souvenirs of Tasmania', including 'Blackwood novelties, shell spoons, Tasmanian maps, design brooches, pens, pencils, saltspoons [and] crest china'.[38] It is likely that Mace's ceramic work was 'bread and butter' pottery — that is, painted and glazed earthenware, decorated with contemporary and historical themes, for local and tourist markets.

The commemorative cup or mug form has long been ubiquitous in popular tourist culture. Along with the tourist teaspoon, and the cup and milk jug or tea set, the cup's souvenir and memorialising functions are simultaneously made popular by their affordability, portability and domestic functionality. The Powerhouse Museum and National Museum of Australia each holds a large range of commemorative cups. Australian examples from around the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries include commemorative ceramic cups and mugs displaying themes of colonial and international exhibitions, empire and nation, such as the Sydney Exhibition of 1879 cup by Thorpe and Davis, Staffordshire; a 1901 Australian Federation mug by Doulton and Co.; a mug marking the opening of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in 1932; and a cup commemorating the coronation of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in 1937 (maker unknown). Yet Mace's themes were not based on those of royalty or nation. Her proclamation cup and jug are distinctive: they embody a popular ceramic commemorative form, but are decorated with dramatic, local colonial images that, as we shall see, were in circulation but not always well understood, and with origins that were often misrepresented.

John Freeland credits Mace with a synthesis in her work, including a move toward 'Bernard Leach's theories of folk art and pottery and her awareness of the Australian landscape, Tasmanian European/Aboriginal history and Aboriginal culture'. He cites Mace's jug depicting 'Proclamation to the Aborigines', her later work from central Australia, as well as her use of subdued colours and 'abstracted figures and insects applied in dark iron oxides', describing these as 'motifs which if not directly Aboriginal ... are identifiably influenced by the styles and natural colour palette of Aboriginal representation'.[39] Freeland, however, does not comment on the distinctiveness of Mace's proclamation–inspired works, and tends to view them generally within the broader context of her appreciation of Aboriginal art and design. Yet the proclamation jug (1928), for example, was made at least six years before Mace's trip to central Australia. Her proclamation cup and jug were not in any sense concerned with traditional Aboriginal culture or design. Instead they were decorated with the charged colonial imagery of contact and conflict, and their specific use in time and place is of special interest.

Had Violet Mace made a study of the images on Governor Arthur's proclamation boards? The inscription on the underside of the cup reads '19 VM 34/ Governor Davey's Proclamation to the Aborigines of Tasmanian 1816/ Bothwell Tasmania'. Likewise, the inscription on the underside of the jug reads '19 VM 28/ Bothwell/ Tasmania/ Governor Davey's Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816'. Mace's attribution of the images on the cup and jug to Governor Davey suggests that she had not seen the original boards, but copies of them made in lithographic form. These lithographs had been made for the 1866 Intercolonial Exhibition held in Melbourne, at the request of the Tasmanian organising committee for the exhibition. The minutes of the committee contain the instruction that 'the Proclamation of Governor Davey be sent to the Surveyor General's to copy', which explains the inscription at the top of the lithograph with the attribution to Governor Davey.[40] Davey, whose governorship lasted from 1813 to 1817, had never issued such a proclamation, although he is known to have objected to the practice of Aboriginal child theft by settlers.[41]

The lithographs were widely distributed. Another print run was made for the Paris International Exhibition, or Exposition Universelle, of 1867. At such exhibitions European powers and their colonies promoted themselves and their most elevated attempts at jurisprudence to each other and the world. The title 'Governor Davey's Proclamation to the Aborigines of Tasmanian 1816' is therefore a historical misattribution perpetuated since the 1866 lithographs and replicated by Mace in her cup and jug.

Mace's selection of these particular images for her ceramic works may have been partly indicative of her broad interest in Aboriginal motifs that grew throughout the 1930s. Yet, as previously noted, the jug was created in 1928, well before Mace's interest in such artwork had crystallised and before her trip to central Australia in 1934. It is difficult to trace with certainty Mace's intentions, as she left few written records. I suggest, however, that she was not strictly inspired by Aboriginal art in the making of the ceramic cup and jug at this early time. Others, such as art historian Peter Timms, have suggested that Mace's work decorated with gum leaves and other typically Australian plant motifs falls into the category of a post-federation 'new nationalism'.[42] Some of her work may well be categorised as such and is also in keeping with the spirit of the emergent Tasmanian arts and crafts movement, with its attention to Australian themes, including Australian flora and fauna: see especially the gum leaves vase (Fig. 3).[43] Yet, there is much more to be revealed in Mace's rendition of this colonial iconography, well beyond the transcription of Aboriginal designs or a new nationalism onto the ceramic works. The imagery represents a specific historical moment in the relationship between Aboriginal people and British power — one that, according to some present readings, is less than triumphant and more complex and ambivalent in its post-colonial apprehension. I suggest that these objects, the jug and cup, are historical referents or 'quotations' as well as souvenirs, and may also be commemorative pieces decorated with an imagery that had both personal and public resonance for Mace. Her connections with the town of Bothwell and the property Ratho, and its antecedent associations with the colonial frontier and conflict between Aborigines and settlers during the years of the Black War of Van Diemen's Land, may also have motivated Mace to replicate the proclamation images in these ceramic works.

Maude Poynter's brother-in-law, Alexander Reid, a descendant of the early 1820s settler family of the same name at the property Ratho near Bothwell, had given Poynter a small portion of land where she built her cottage and pottery.[44] European settlers with families, mainly of Scottish origin, had first arrived in the Bothwell area in around 1820 to take up land. At the time of contact with Europeans the Indigenous people in the area, the Luggermairrernerpairrer, also known by Europeans as part of the 'Big River tribe', were thought to number around 500. As historian Shauna Ellis notes, other bands of the tribe were 'located further west and south; and although the Luggermairrernerpairrer occupied part of the Central plateau, they ranged widely over the Bothwell area and beyond'.[45] Bothwell and its European residents were centrally involved in the Black War. During the 1820s, but especially from around 1828, tensions between Aboriginal people and Europeans had began to escalate in the island's interior, from Launceston in the north, and southwards through the Oatlands and Bothwell district north-west of Hobart. Relationships deteriorated rapidly as settlers claimed ever-expanding areas of Aboriginal land, acquiring grants from the government, clearing and stocking them, and building dwellings upon them. [46]

The first Alexander Reid had arrived in the Bothwell area in 1822. Reid had been granted land on the Clyde River, naming part of his property 'Ratho' after his original family property near Edinburgh. In 1830 Reid took part in the Black War against Tasmanian Aboriginal people. Governor Arthur had positioned troop depots at frontier hotspots, including the town of Bothwell, to deter Aboriginal people from passing through the settled districts. Settler fear and anxiety was intense, and some were so fearful they sought to give up their land grants. In February 1830, settlers of the Clyde met and petitioned the government, claiming that 'Aborigines were threatening the extinction of the colony itself by firing crops and dwellings'.[49] As Ellis concludes, between 1822 and 1831 'Big River people killed around 60 Europeans, raided huts for weapons, blankets and stores, speared stock, burnt haystacks, huts, fences and homes, and annexed or raised grazing areas. About 240 Aborigines were killed by Europeans and less than sixty remained by 1831'.[50]

While many referred to the Black Line as a failure — a military operation that had captured few Aboriginal people — it did, however, force Aboriginal groups into the north-east of the island. Settlers from Bothwell and Brighton sent congratulations to Lieutenant Governor Arthur for these efforts. After the Black Line, much of the conciliation effort was left to George Augustus Robinson and his 'friendly mission', as has been well documented. Robinson had taken the post of 'Protector of Aborigines' in Van Diemen's Land early in 1830. From October to December 1831 he moved through central Tasmania searching for the feared Big River and Oyster Bay groups, who had terrorised the settled districts. When Robinson and his Aboriginal negotiators finally made contact with the Big River tribe on 31 December, only 24 of its people remained.[52] Robinson met with these war-weary Aboriginal people near Lake Echo and persuaded them to travel to Hobart with him. On their way there they performed a final corroboree outside the Castle Hotel in Bothwell in January 1832. As historian NJB Plomley notes, Robinson's return to Hobart with these Aboriginal people was 'a Roman triumph'. They were paraded through the streets to the strains of a military band, and hundreds of settlers came to see them. The so-called conciliation of the Big River tribe, in reality an Aboriginal surrender into government protection, was the final chapter in Robinson's 'friendly mission' and marked the end of the Black War, at least in the minds of settlers.[53] Over the course of the 'friendly mission', Robinson had persuaded several groups of Aboriginal people to relocate to the Flinders Island mission in the Bass Strait. Yet, by late 1847 this virtually captive group had dwindled to a mere 47 people, who were then moved on to the Aboriginal settlement at Oyster Cove, on the main island of Tasmania.[54]

By August 1834 the Aboriginal problem, as the colonists perceived it, had been settled.[55] The story of the final 'conciliation' is well known and has been popularised in visual and literary culture. What is less well-known is that Bothwell's settlers sought to publicly express their gratitude to George Robinson for his mission. In 1835 the residents of Bothwell commissioned an ornate, double-handled silver cup to mark the success of his 'friendly mission' (Fig. 7). The Hobart Town Courier reported, 'We have just seen a splendid specimen of colonial workmanship ... to be presented by the inhabitants of the Bothwell district to Mr. Robinson, in commemoration of his services in conciliating the hostile Blacks'.[56] The inscription reads from the 'Inhabitants of the District of Bothwell in testimony of their acknowledgement of the benefit the Colony has derived from the successful conciliation of the Aborigines of the Island effected by him. 1835'.[57]

The commemorative cup form, as noted above, has a long history. Such objects mark an event and simultaneously memorialise it, and thus possess mnemonic and archival properties.[58] The silver cup is reflective of the great importance settlers gave to the wholesale removal of Aboriginal people, and memorialises the end of the Black War. By 1840 the painter Benjamin Duterrau would also celebrate and memorialise the mission of George Robinson in the grand historical painting The Conciliation, which included members of the Big River tribe posed around the 'Protector of Aborigines'.[59] Duterrau replicated these images of the Big River people, the conciliator Robinson and his Aboriginal negotiators many times over in various formats and media, including pencil sketches, oil, and plaster casts. Such work served to mythologise Robinson and the 'final conciliation' of the Aboriginal people of Van Diemen's Land.

These triumphal 'conciliation' narratives or stories were later reworked in multiple ways within literary and visual culture, becoming installed in the popular local and colonial imagination. The story of the conciliation would be consolidated several decades later by historian James Bonwick in the Last of the Tasmanians, Or the Black War of Van Diemen's Land (1870). Bonwick featured the lithograph made from the original imagery of the proclamation boards, thereby linking the proclamation imagery to ideas of conflict and conciliation surrounding Van Diemen's Land's early origins; and he praised the work of Robinson as the 'Great Conciliator'. While Bonwick is widely regarded as one of the key proponents of the story of Vandemonian brutality and the great conciliation, Charles Wentworth Dilke had in fact written of this several years earlier in his highly successful work, Greater Britain: A Record of Travel in English-Speaking Countries during 1866 and 1867. The volume ran to eight editions throughout the nineteenth century, was widely read across Britain and the colonies, and probably contributed much to Tasmania's difficult international reputation.[60] In this sweeping global tour, Dilke traced England 'round the world', reporting on the state of Britain's colonies. His appraisal of Van Diemen's Land was dark. He spoke of the 'horrible deeds' of the early convict days, 'but still more frightful' were the 'massacres of the Aboriginal inhabitants of the isle. Van Diemen's Land has never been a name of happy omen'.[61] Set beside these comments was the lithographic rendering of the proclamation images. It is possible that Dilke saw these on display at the 1866 Intercolonial Exhibition in Melbourne, which he had attended and written about enthusiastically.[62]

Given Bothwell's role as a key site in the Black War and the 'final conciliation', it is pertinent that Mace's cup and jug emerged from the Bothwell pottery, and particularly the property Ratho. It is likely that Mace, with her personal connections to Ratho and its descendants, was attuned to the local history of the area and of the settler tradition of commemoration of the famous 'conciliation' of the Big River tribe. Further, it is tempting to speculate that the manufacture dates of the jug (1928) and the cup (1934) may also be of significance as centenary commemorations of the 1828 declaration of martial law and the end of the 'friendly mission' in 1834. It must be noted, however, that the period between 1928 and 1934 also brackets Mace's time away in England, and there is little surviving evidence in newspapers of such commemorative events. Further research may reveal the presence of other ceramic items that may confirm or refute such a proposition.

Just as the creation of the cup and jug may have had their origins in Mace's place of residence and work, they may also be viewed as products of Tasmania's emergent tourism industry, of which Mace and Poynter were clearly a part. By the late nineteenth century Tasmania had become a popular tourist destination for mainland Australians, and many tourists travelled from Melbourne and Sydney to Devonport and Hobart by steamship.[63] This fledgling industry drew on the imagery of the proclamation boards, replicating it in myriad ways. It is likely that Mace had seen and was influenced by various reworkings of the image in a range of formats.

In the late nineteenth century the Hobart photographer John Watt Beattie (1859–1930) produced lantern slides of the proclamation board images, along with many other images of Tasmania and its history for popular consumption. He too attributed the boards to Governor Davey. Forging a business of 'Tasmaniana', his images from the 'Beattie Studios Hobart' include romantic Tasmanian landscapes, lantern slides of old Hobart and the Tasman Peninsula, as well as convict scenes and memorabilia, ruins and penitentiaries, revealing the interests and demands of a burgeoning tourist audience. As historian Lloyd Robson noted, Beattie 'probably did more than anyone to shape the accepted visual image of Tasmania'.[64] In the 1890s the photographer's passion for local history took an entrepreneurial turn when he opened a museum of art and artefacts on the harbour, which became one of Hobart's well-known attractions. As Robson observed: 'Convictism at Port Arthur and the Aborigines were conspicuous among his interests ... He was appointed the colony's official photographer in 1896, and thereafter worked hard in support of tourism'.

During the 1890s, under the aegis of Beattie Studios, Beattie re-photographed and displayed images of Aboriginal people who had lived at Oyster Cove in the 1860s. The photograph entitled 'Tasmanian Aborigines, The Last of the Race', depicting Aboriginal people known as 'Wapiti', 'Bessy Clarke' and 'Maryanne', demonstrates the continuing fascination with Aboriginal communities at this time.[65] Michael Roe contends that Beattie 'confronted the horror of European-Tasmanian relations', albeit highly romantically, writing of Aboriginal people, 'For about thirty years this ancient people held their ground bravely against the invaders of their beautiful domain'.[66] Beattie was a major source of the proclamation imagery and its associated narratives of violence and humanitarianism. Later in life, in 1919, he sold an original proclamation board in his possession to the Mitchell Library, Sydney. Another made its way into the collection of the National Library of Australia. These were also incorrectly labelled 'Governor Davey's Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816'.[67]

International visitors to Tasmania commented on the boards and retold the story of the 'conciliation', made resonant by Duterrau, Dilke, Bonwick and Beattie throughout the nineteenth century. Mark Twain, that most 'conspicuous' man of the United States, visited Tasmania for just a few hours during his 1895 lecture tour of Australia. Yet, in his published record of the tour, he devoted at least two chapters to Tasmania's unhappy convict and frontier past. As Don Watson, who edited extracts from Twain's works, observes, the American author lavished praise on Robinson, the conciliator, 'the bricklayer — that wonderful man'. Twain wrote:

The governor warned these unlettered savages by printed proclamation, that they must stay in the desolate region officially appointed for them! The proclamation was a dead letter; the savages could not read it. Afterwards a picture-proclamation was issued.[68]

Twain cited Bonwick's The Last of the Tasmanians as one of his sources, but it is tempting to think that he may have visited Beattie's museum during his short stay in Hobart.

The manufacture of lantern slides and postcards of the proclamation boards by the turn of the twentieth century is testament to the enduring currency or resonance of these images within tourist circles.[69] Local exhibitions also sought to reproduce the images. In 1931 the Art, Antique and Historical Exhibition in Hobart made a reproduction of the lithograph in a smaller format and also included it in the exhibition and catalogue, attributed to Governor Davey.[70]

By the 1930s, 100 years after the Black War, the proclamation imagery was firmly established in the popular imagination, and generally attributed to Governor Davey. Doubt surrounding the provenance of the images had perhaps been brought to Mace's attention, and she sought an authority to provide the correct historical attribution for them. An undated letter from the director of the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery replies to a 'Miss Mace' and thanks her for her correspondence concerning the proclamation boards. Mace had written to the museum to seek clarification on whether Governor Davey or Governor Arthur had issued the boards. The director hinted that they might be attributed to Arthur, but noted 'so far my efforts in this direction have not resulted in anything definite'.[71] Although the imagery was in circulation, knowledge of its exact provenance had become hazy. Even official arbiters of public history, such as the museum director, were unsure of its exact origins. As outlined at the beginning of this article, it is now well-documented that George Frankland, the Surveyor General of Van Diemen's Land, was the author of the boards, and had conferred with Governor Arthur in 1829 regarding their making and distribution. The boards were given out under the aegis of Governor Arthur.

Mace's cup and jug are best understood within a series of derivates and reworkings — an established visual vernacular — that emerged from the original proclamation images over the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, testament to the enduring resonance of the proclamation imagery in the popular imagination, especially in Tasmania. The transference and distribution of historical imagery in various media, including lithography, glass lantern slides, postcards and three-dimensional ceramic ware, suggests much about intended audiences in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. While the original boards were aimed at local Aboriginal people and convicts, and promoted the idea of equal application of the law and Indigenous transformation, the 1866–67 lithographs produced for the Melbourne Intercolonial and the Paris Universelle exhibitions were intended for an entirely different intercolonial and international audience. These were audiences to which the colony of Tasmania sought to emphasise perhaps a retroactive British jurisprudence and a humanitarian disposition towards its colonised Indigenous people.[72] The attribution of the original date of the images to Governor Davey (1816) also tends to backdate the violent history of the colony, placing it even further in the past. By the 1890s Beattie used glass lantern slides at his lectures for local and international tourist audiences for a purpose that was both entertaining and didactic; and by the early twentieth century the development of portable and cheaper postcards suggests a large and popular circulation of the proclamation imagery to visitors and tourists. By the time Beattie donated his boards to the Mitchell Library and the National Library of Australia, he was clearly aware of their historical significance and value to the general public. The reprint of the imagery for the 1931 Art, Antique and Historical Exhibition in Hobart suggests that the iconography was, by this time, of significant artistic and historical interest, notwithstanding ongoing confusion over attributions.

Mace's jug and cup speak to a different and later audience again. The two-dimensional images were rendered onto a three-dimensional surface in the popular cup and jug format; they both quoted and paid tribute to a historical event for local Bothwell residents and other Tasmanians, as well being souvenirs or mementos for tourists. Of course, as quotations or reworkings, Mace's cup and jug did not challenge or subvert dominant historical narratives of conciliation in the way that more recent post-colonial artwork has sought to do. Instead, Mace and Poynter sold their wares at local Hobart jewellers and in an art gallery. These ceramics may well have been 'art ceramics' but they were also portable historical curiosities, akin to much souvenir chinaware imprinted with popular and topical imagery today. By the time the imagery was transposed to the cup and jug or tea set format, it had been rendered collectable and was, in a sense, entirely domesticated. The dramatic proclamation pictures, made between two declarations of martial law, hung on gum trees, handed out to Aboriginal groups on the frontier, and depicting violent scenes and hanging executions in the bush, were thus brought into the living room and pacified. In such a way their deployment reflects the processes of historical tourism, which domesticates and repackages historical scenes and moments, to be taken home and re-imagined at leisure. These reworkings or quotations reveal how the proclamation images were used for various political, exhibitionary, didactic and touristic purposes to tell a story of violence and apparent conciliation, as well as constituting popular curios of historic if imprecise value — 'comic strips' pictures sometimes devoid of their political content — revealing the intertwined processes of remembrance and forgetting in settler society.[73]

Mace left little record of her creative and commercial intentions and we cannot be sure of the reception of these curious ceramics. Yet the cup and jug performed a function; they were souvenirs referring to a key historical moment in an increasingly modern tourism industry. As cultural theorists Nigel Morgan and Annette Prichard argue, souvenirs are socially constructed texts and 'objects of transition ... touchstones of meaning which can evoke powerful memories of experience and mediate our sense of place, enveloping the past with the present'.[74] But such memories may also be shown to be ambivalent depending on the maker, the audience and the shifting context. Souvenirs may be mnemonic devises par excellence, but the politics of remembering are always charged. We need to ask whose historical and social memory is represented here. Such propositions lead to questions of the relationship between tourism, history and collective identity, and negative, conflictual or traumatic memory. For a settler community such souvenirs may continue to mediate a 'positive' narrative of romantic resistance, pacification, humanitarian intent and successful 'conciliation' exemplified by the governor's handshake with the Aboriginal chief in the second scene. Or they may be mere folly — anomalous cartoons. Yet, for Aboriginal people and others today such items may mediate 'negative' narratives of invasion, conquest and unequal justice. For some, these derivative works based on the proclamation images may be fraught souvenirs.

The proclamation cup and related works are nevertheless part of a rich visual vernacular that was well established in local Tasmanian circles; shown and distributed at inter-colonial and international exhibitions and in popular international texts, such as Dilke's Greater Britain and Bonwick's The Last of the Tasmanians; and authored and promoted by a growing Tasmanian tourism industry in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The enduring currency of the proclamation images revealed in the making of the cup and other derivative works is of great interest in terms of commemoration and the historical imagination of a local settler community, where contact history comes to be remembered or misremembered in specific ways. Bothwell, a key place of frontier conflict, and the property Ratho are significant as sites for the production of these themed objects — the cup and jug — where Mace's personal and public investments may be found.

While Violet Mace was clearly influenced by and central to a ceramic arts movement that incorporated Aboriginal art and design, her proclamation ceramics reveal an important and innovative departure from usual themes of nationalistic Australiana, royal and national commemorations, or Aboriginal art. Rather, Mace looked to local, charged colonial imagery of Tasmania's past. Her cup and jug reside within the complex intersections of local and colonial history, settler remembrance and Tasmania's emergent ceramics arts movement and growing tourism industry of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

This paper has been independently peer-reviewed.

¹ This paper is dedicated to my friend and well-known Hobart potter, the late John Bartram. Thanks to the National Museum of Australia, Museum Victoria, and Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery for their continuing support as partners in the Australian Research Council linkage project, 'Conciliation narratives and the historical imagination in British Pacific rim settler societies', with chief investigators Professor Kate Darian-Smith and Dr Julie Evans of the University of Melbourne. I also thank the anonymous reviewers for comments on this paper.
² For more on Violet Mace (1890–1968) see: G King, 'Violet Mace' and 'Studio pottery in Tasmania', in K Fahey, J Freeland, K Free & A Simpson (eds), Australian Art Pottery 1900–1950, Casuarina Press, Sydney, 2004; C Ackland & C Campbell, 'Pioneer craftswomen from the Bothwell area', Tasmanian Historical Research Association Papers and Proceedings, June 1994, 85–8; J Bartram et al., Early Tasmanian Pottery 1920–1950, exhibition catalogue, Tasmanian School of Art, TCAE, Hobart, 1979. Institutions that hold Mace's works include the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney; Art Gallery of New South Wales, Sydney; Queen Victoria Art Gallery and Museum, Launceston; Tasmanian Art Gallery and Museum, Hobart; and the National Museum of Australia, Canberra.
³ J Freeland, 'Indigenous reference in Australian pottery: Appropriation, adaptation and abstraction', in Australian Art Pottery 1900–1950, p. 49.
⁴ J Kerr, 'Colonial quotations: Reinventing the original', Art and Australia, vol. 33, no. 3, 1996 (pp. 380, 387)
⁵ For background on the proclamation boards see: J Morris, 'Notes on a message to the Tasmanian Aborigines in 1829, popularly called "Governor Davey's Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816"', Australiana, vol. 10, no. 3, August 1988, 84–7; L Ryan, Aboriginal Tasmanians, Allen and Unwin, St Leonards, NSW, 1996; D Manderson, 'Not yet: Aboriginal people and the deferral of the rule of law', Arena, vol. 29, no. 30, 2008, 220–72; P Edmonds, '"Failing in every endeavour to conciliate": Governor Arthur's proclamation boards to the Aborigines, Australian conciliation narratives and their transnational connections', Journal of Australian Studies, special issue on visual culture (forthcoming, 2011).
⁶ For more on Tasmania's tourism industry see: MJ Walker, 'Memories and dreams: the evolution of Tasmania's tourist image, 1803–1939', PhD thesis, University of Tasmania; J Davidson & P Spearritt, Holiday Business: Tourism in Australian since 1870, Melbourne University Press, 2000.
⁷ See Australian Research Council linkage project, 'Conciliation narratives and the historical imagination in British Pacific rim settler societies', 2007, section E.
⁸ Governor's Proclamation, 1 November 1828, British Parliamentary Papers, Colonies, Australia, Shannon, 1970, vol. 4 (pp. 184, 192). Lieutenant Governor George Arthur took up office in Hobart, Van Diemen's Land, in May 1824. He left Hobart on 30 October 1836. See AGL Shaw, 'Arthur, Sir George (1784–1854)', Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 1, Melbourne University Press, 1966, pp. 32–8.
⁹ See PR Eldershaw, 'Frankland, George (1800–38)', Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 1, pp. 410–11.
¹⁰ Letter from Frankland to Arthur, 4 February 1829, Tasmanian Archive and Heritage Office (TAHO), LSD 17/1.
¹¹ Letter from Frankland to RW Hay, 9 February 1829, in Five Letters from George Frankland in Van Diemen's Land, Nag's Head Press, Adelaide, 1997.
¹² A letter from the Commandant at Launceston, Major Abbott, to the Colonial Secretary, 30 August 1830, cited in NJB Plomley (ed.), Friendly Mission, p. 108, notes: 'I endeavoured to explain to the natives the figures on the boards, which you forwarded to me; and shook hands with them on parting; they appeared all well disposed and friendly; one board I gave to the Circular Head Party, and the other to Captain Welsh's party'.
¹³ Lieutenant Governor Arthur, Despatch to Sir George Murray, Colonial Secretary, 20 November 1830, microfilm, TAHO.
¹⁴ ibid. For background on conflict and contact between Aborigines and settlers in colonial Van Diemen's Land see: NJB Plomley, The Aboriginal/Settler Clash in Van Diemen's Land 1803–1831; Plomley (ed.), Friendly Mission: The Tasmanian Journals and Papers of George Augustus Robinson, 1829–1834; L Ryan, Aboriginal Tasmanians, Allen and Unwin, St Leonards, NSW, 1996; H Reynolds, Fate of a Free People: The Classic Account of the Tasmanian Wars, Penguin, 2004; P Chapman (ed.), Historical Records of Australia Series III Despatches and Papers Relating to the History of Tasmania, Vol. VIII, Melbourne University Press, 2003. Nineteenth-century works include: H Melville, The History of Van Diemen's Land: From the Year 1824 to 1835, Sydney, 1836, rev. edn, George Mackaness (ed.), Horwitz-Grahame, Sydney, 1965; J Bonwick, The Last of the Tasmanians: or, The Black War of Van Diemen's Land, Sampson Low, Son, & Marston, London, 1870.
¹⁵ J Connor, 'British frontier warfare logistics and the "Black Line"', War in History, vol. 9, no. 2, 143–58. The campaign's goal was to capture or force Aboriginal people into the Forestier and Tasman peninsulas. For this purpose Arthur had collected around 2200 men, 550 of whom were troops, the rest being willing civilians, ibid., p. 150.
¹⁶ Letter from Governor Arthur to Secretary Hay, September 1832, in M Bassett, 'Governor Arthur and the opposite coast', Tasmanian Historical Association, vol. 2, no. 5, 1953 (p. 90).
¹⁷ See D Manderson, 'Not yet'; P Edmonds, 'Failing in every endeavour to conciliate', pp. 1–3.
¹⁸ King, 'Violet Mace', Australian Art Pottery 1900–1950, p. 238.
¹⁹ibid.; C Ackland & C Campbell, 'Pioneer craftswomen from the Bothwell area'; King, 'Studio pottery in Tasmania', Australian Art Pottery 1900–1950; J Bartram et al., Early Tasmanian Pottery 1920–1950.
²⁰ King, 'Violet Mace', p. 238.

²¹ ibid.
²² King, 'Tasmanian ceramics: An historical perspective', Pottery in Australia, vol. 26, no. 3, August 1987 (p. 7).
²³ P Timms, Australian Pottery 1900 to 1950, exhibition catalogue, Shepparton Arts Centre, 1978, p. 11.
²⁴ Timms, 'Violet Mace', Dictionary of Australian Artists Online.
²⁵ King, 'Studio pottery in Tasmania', p. 33.
²⁶ Ackland & Campbell, 'Pioneer craftswomen of the Bothwell area' (p. 87).
²⁷ ibid. See also C Miley, Beautiful and Useful: The Arts and Crafts Movement in Tasmania, exhibition catalogue, Queen Victoria Art Gallery and Museum, Launceston, 1987, p. 41.
²⁸ Timms, 'Violet Mace'.
²⁹ King, 'Studio pottery in Tasmania', p. 36.
³⁰ See Freeland, 'Indigenous reference in Australian pottery: Appropriation, adaptation and abstraction', Australian Art Pottery 1900–1950, p. 51.
³¹ King, 'Violet Mace', pp. 238–41.
³² Ackland & Campbell relate that few examples of her work remain in Tasmania as 'she left most of it to a relative in New Zealand' (p. 87). Likewise, few small museums in Tasmania hold Mace's ceramic work. The Swansea Museum holds some works, while Bothwell Historical Society has none.
³³ King, 'Maude Poynter', Australian Art Pottery 1900–1950.
³⁴ Earlier in April 1928 Wilkins had completed the first trans-Arctic flight from Alaska to Spitzbergen.
³⁵ Miley, Beautiful and Useful, p. 43.
³⁶ King, 'Studio pottery', p. 35.
³⁷ Timms, 'Violet Mace'.
³⁸ See advertisements: Charles David Ltd. Hardware merchant Hobart, Mercury, 7 January 1924; F.A. Flint Watchmakers and Jewellers, Liverpool Street, Hobart, Mercury, 7 January 1924. See also K Cavil, 'Commemorative and souvenir spoons of Australian interest, 1894–1994', Australiana, November 1994, pp. 95–106, 97.
³⁹ Freeland, p. 52.
⁴⁰ C Craig, Engravers of Van Diemen's Land, Tasmanian Historical Research Association, Hobart, 1961, pp. 146–7.

⁴¹ Plomley, The Aboriginal/Settler Clash in Van Diemen's Land 1803–1831, Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery in association with the Centre for Tasmanian Historical Studies, University of Tasmania, Launceston, 1992, p. 7.
⁴² Timms, Australian Pottery 1900 to 1950, p. 11.
⁴³ For further reference to Violet Mace and Maude Poynter's work see Miley, Beautiful and Useful.
⁴⁴ Ackland & Campbell (p. 86).
⁴⁵ S Ellis, Bothwell Revisited: A History: Foundation Federation and the Millenium, Bothwell Historical Society Inc., 2001, pp. 1, 4.
⁴⁶ ibid., p. 2.
⁴⁷ The land was in two sections: 1400 acres (576 hectares) which he called Ratho, and 600 acres (243 hectares), five miles (8 kilometres) downstream, which he named Humbie. See AF Pike, 'Reid, Alexander (1783–1858)', Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 2, Melbourne University Press, 1967.
⁴⁸ 15April 1828, in Ryan, Aboriginal Tasmanians, p. 97.
⁴⁹ See H Reynold, Fate of a Free People, pp. 59, 61.
⁵⁰ Ellis, Bothwell Revisited, p. 2.
⁵¹ Ryan, p. 112.
⁵² ibid., p. 158. See also: Plomley, 'Robinson', ADB online; 'Robinson, George Augustus (1791–1866)', Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 2, Melbourne University Press, 1967, pp. 385–87. For new reflections on the 'friendly mission' see also A Johnston & M Rolls, Reading Robinson, Quintus, Hobart, 2008.
⁵³ 'Robinson', ADB online;V Rae-Ellis, Black Robinson, Melbourne University Press, 1996, p. 80; Ellis, p. 2.
⁵⁴ Ryan, p. 203.
⁵⁵ 'Robinson', ADB online and Australian Dictionary of Biography.
⁵⁶ Hobart Town Courier, 8 April 1836.
⁵⁷ ibid. The Robinson cup is held in the collections of the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery, Launceston.
⁵⁸ On these properties of colonial objects more generally see C Healy, 'Chained to their signs: Remembering breastplates', in B Creed & J Hoorn (eds), Body Trade: Captivity, Cannibalism and Colonialism in the Pacific, Routledge in association with Pluto Press and University of Otago Press, 2001, pp. 24–35.
⁵⁹ The Conciliation is in the collections of the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery. For more on the painting see B Attwood, Possession: Batman's Treaty and the Matter of History, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, 2009.
⁶⁰ J Bonwick, Last of the Tasmanians: or, The Black War of Van Diemen's Land, Sampson Low, London, 1870. On Bonwick and the conciliation see also Attwood, Possession; Dilke, Greater Britain: A Record of Travel in English-Speaking Countries During 1866 and 1867, 2 vols, Macmillan and Co., London, 1868.

⁶¹ Dilke, Greater Britain, vol. 2, p. 95.
⁶² See P Edmonds, 'We think that this subject of the native races should be thoroughly gone into at the forthcoming Exhibition': The 1866-67 Intercolonial Exhibition', Seize the Day: Exhibitions, Australia and the World, Kate Darian-Smith, Richard Gillespie, Caroline Jordan and Elizabeth Willis (eds), (Melbourne: Monash University Press, 2008), pp. 4–15. It is unlikely, however, that Mace had ever seen this silver cup as it was not until the early 1940s that Australian historian Philip L Brown recovered the cup and a range of Robinson's material from Bath, England, and later donated these items to several Australian collecting institutions. 'The Ethnographic Collection of George Augustus Robinson', Memoirs of the Museum of Victoria, vol. 1, no. 1, 1990, pp. 1–96, 23.
⁶³ See also Davidson & Spearritt, Holiday Business.
⁶⁴ L Robson, A History of Tasmania, vol. 2, Oxford University Press, 1990, p. 168; see also M Roe, 'Beattie, John Watt (1859–1930)', Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 7, Melbourne University Press, 1979, pp. 232–33.
⁶⁵ The State Library of Victoria, H6550. Some of these images were probably copies of photographs made from originals taken by Francis Russell Nixon in the 1850s and by Charles A Woolley in 1866. See also 'Introduction', in M Tassell & D Wood, Tasmanian Photographer: From the John Watt Beattie Collection, QVMAG, Launceston, 1981.
⁶⁶ Roe, 'Beattie, John Watt (1859–1930)', Australian Dictionary of Biography.
⁶⁷ See 'Governor Davey's Proclamation to the Aborigines, 1816', R247, State Library of New South Wales.
⁶⁸ M Twain, The Wayward Tourist: Mark Twain's Adventures in Australia, Melbourne University Press, 2006, pp. 152–53. These are excerpts from Twain's book Following the Equator: A Journey around the World (1897).
⁶⁹ The State Library of Victoria holds a lantern slide, dated about 1900–25, taken from the original pen-and-ink drawing for the 1866 lithograph now held in the National Library of Australia. This institution also holds a postcard from the AC Dreier postcard collection made from the same image, dated 1926, again attributed to Governor Davey.
⁷⁰ Thanks to George Burrows, Tasmania, who provided this information. Also reproduced in [Catalogue of] Art, Antique and Historical Exhibition [Held in] City Hall, Hobart, August 27th to September 5th, 1931, Cox Kay, Hobart, 1931 (see State Library of Tasmania).
⁷¹ Letter (undated) to Miss Mace from the Director, presumably of Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, collection archives of TMAG.
⁷² For an extended discussion of the placement and use of the lithographs in the 1866 and 1867 exhibitions see Edmonds, 'We think that this subject of the native races should be thoroughly gone into at the forthcoming Exhibition'.
⁷³ See, for example, C Healy, From the Ruins of Colonialism: History as Social Memory, Cambridge University Press, 1997.
⁷⁴ Morgan & Pritchard, 'On souvenirs and metonymy: Narratives of memory, metaphor and materiality', Tourist Studies, vol. 5, no. 1, 29–53.