An Archaeological Guide to

British Ceramics in Australia

1788-1901

Alasdair Brooks

The Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology and

The La Trobe University Archaeology Program

2005
© copyright 2005
The Australasian Society for Historical
Archaeology and
The La Trobe University Archaeology Program

No part of this publication may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopy,
recording, or any information storage or retrieval
system, without permission in writing from the
Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology.

The opinions expressed in this book are the

responsibility of the author alone and it is not to
be assumed that they represent the views of the
Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology
or the La Trobe University Archaeology
Program.

ISBN x xxxxxx xx x

Typeset by xxxxx xxxxxxx

Printed by xxxxxx xxxxxxx

Cover Image:
‘Asiatic Pheasants’ pattern transfer-printed
whiteware plate
Courtesy of Susan Lawrence
About The Author

Alasdair Brooks has more than 15 years experience in archaeological material culture and ceramics studies on three
continents, and is one of only a very few historical archaeologists to have worked and studied in Australia, the United
Kingdom and the United States. His undergraduate degree (1990), in anthropology and sociology, is from St. Mary’s
College of Maryland in the United States, while his MA (1992) and DPhil (2001), both in archaeology, are from the
University of York in his native UK. His doctoral thesis was on The Comparative Analysis of Late 18th- and 19th-
Century Ceramics – A Trans-Atlantic Perspective. He has, at various times in his career, been the archaeology lab
supervisor at Thomas Jefferson’s Poplar Forest (the Virginia retreat home of the third US President), the post-
medieval finds supervisor at the University of York’s Castell Henllys excavations in Wales, and a post-doctoral
research fellow at La Trobe University in Melbourne. He has also worked for several US consultancy firms and
undertaken fieldwork in western Victoria (with Monash University) and Tasmania (with the Port Arthur Historic Site
Management Authority). He has previously published on the symbolic content of nineteenth-century transfer prints,
nineteenth-century ceramics assemblages from Wales, and the value of international comparisons in ceramics
analysis. This is his first book.
Frontispiece: Map of Australia, with sites mentioned in text. 9) Tasman & Forestier Peninsulas -
Port Arthur
Lagoon Bay
Queensland 10) Adventure Bay, Bruny Island
1) Brisbane - Victoria
Victoria Park 11) Melbourne & suburbs -
New South Wales Little Lon
2) Winterbourne House, Armidale Casselden Place
3) Lake Innes Estate, Port Macquarie Viewbank
4) Irrawang Pottery of James King 12) Corinella
5) Sydney & suburbs - 13) Short's National Hotel, Gisborne
The Rocks 14) Dolly's Creek
Cumberland/Gloucester Street 15) Henry's Mill, Otway Ranges
Sydney Conservatorium 16) Captain Mills' Cottage, Port Fairy
Babes in the Wood Hotel, South Australia
Parramatta 17) Adelaide & suburbs -
Regentville, Penrith Quebec Street, Port Adelaide
CSR site, Pyrmont 18) Barossa Valley
Tasmania 19) Moran's Farm, Melrose
6) Wybalenna, Flinders Island Western Australia
7) Ross Factory 20) Point King Lighthouse, Albany
8) Hobart - 21) The Kimberly
Wapping Northern Territory
22) Port Essington, Cobourg Peninsula

i
TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of Tables

List of Figures

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 1: A Brief Overview of Ceramics Analysis in Historical Archaeology

Post-Medieval Ceramics in Britain
Ceramics in North American Historical Archaeology
Ceramics Analysis in Australia

Chapter 2: A Model for Ceramics Analysis

A Critique of a Traditional Analytical Model
The New Model

Chapter 3: Processing, Cataloguing, and Curation

Processing
Cataloguing
Quantifying the Data
Curation

Chapter 4: Ware, Form, Decoration, and Date

Ware
Decoration
Form
Date

Chapter 5: Analysis and Interpretation

Economy
Status
Function
Meaning
Conclusion

Appendix A: British Pottery Manufacturers Known in Australia

Appendix B: Pottery Timeline

Appendix C: Further Reading

Appendix D: The Society for Historical Archaeology’s ‘Standards and Guidelines for the
Curation of Archaeological Collections.

ii
LIST OF TABLES
Table 2.1: The ceramics analysis model
Table 4.1: Unimodal probability curves for 19th-
century transfer prints
Table 5.1: Liverpool ceramics exports by region – last
6 months of 1860
Table 5.2: Liverpool ceramics exports by region – last
6 Months of 1861
Table 5.3a: Liverpool ceramics exports to selected
USA & CSA cities – July 1860 & July 1861
Table 5.3b: Liverpool ceramics exports to selected
USA & CSA cities – October 1860 & October 1861
Table 5.4: Percentage change in Liverpool ceramics
exports by region, last six months of 1860 versus last
six months of 1861
Table 5.5: Post-gold rush increases in Liverpool
ceramics exports to Australia
Table 5.6: Quality of Pottery Exports to Different
Australian Colonies
LIST OF FIGURES
Frontispiece: Map of Australia, with sites mentioned in
text.
Figure 4.1: Edged and gilt-banded bone china plate.
Figure 4.2: Bristol glaze bottle.
Figure 4.3: Bristol glaze jar.
Figure 4.4: Buff-bodied earthenware mug.
Figure 4.5: Creamware.
Figure 4.6: Dyed-body ware, moulded blue hollow
vessel.
Figure 4.7: Dyed-body ware, undecorated blue bottle
base.
Figure 4.8: Pearlware plate, front.
Figure 4.9: Pearlware plate, reverse.
iii
Figure 4.10: Redware lid.
Figure 4.11: Refined red earthenware teapot, brown-
glazed.
Figure 4.12: Refined red earthenware teapot, black-
glazed, enamelled.
Figure 4.13: Salt-glazed stoneware bottle.
Figure 4.14: White granite plate, ‘Berlin swirl’ pattern.
Figure 4.15: White granite cup, ‘Berlin swirl’ pattern.
Figure 4.16: Yelloware.
Figure 4.17: Transfer-printed and gilt-banded saucer.
Figure 4.18: Banded plate rims.
Figure 4.19: Polychrome decal pickle dish.
Figure 4.20: A Selection of 18th-century Edge-
moulded Decorations
Figure 4.21: Engine-turned and annular bowl rims.
Figure 4.22: Transfer-printed flow blue bowl.
Figure 4.23: Painted flow blue jug.
Figure 4.24: Gilt ‘tea leaf’pattern.
Figure 4.25: Industrial slip bowl.
Figure 4.26: Miscellaneous industrial slip.
Figure 4.27: Mocha-decorated jug.
Figure 4.28: Rockingham-type buff-bodied
earthenware teapot fragments.
Figure 4.29: Shelledge rim types.
Figure 4.30: Cut-sponged cup.
Figure 4.31: Sprigged saucer fragment.
Figure 4.32: ‘Rhine’ pattern differences 1.
Figure 4.33: ‘Rhine’ pattern differences 2.
Figure 4.34: ‘Rhine’ pattern differences 3 (‘Rhone
scenery’ pattern).
 Figure B.1: Reading registration marks.
Figure 4.35: ‘Willow’ pattern.

Figure 4.36: ‘Asiatic Pheasant’ pattern.

PHOTOGRAPH CREDITS
Figure 4.37: ‘Two Temples’ pattern.
Except as noted below, all photographs have been
Figure 4.38: ‘Rhine’ pattern.
taken by the author and are of artefacts from the
Heritage Victoria collections.
Figure 4.39: ‘Fibre’ pattern bowl.
Figures 4.5, 4.27, 4.31, 4.36: Photograph by the
Figure 4.40: ‘Albion’ pattern.
author, with Wei Ming and Rudy Frank, from the
collection of Susan Lawrence.
Figure 4.41: ‘Marble’ pattern chamberpot.
Figure 4.35: Photograph by the author, with Wei Ming
Figure 4.42: Undecorated plate.
and Rudy Frank, from the La Trobe University
reference collection.
Figure 4.43: Names for Plate/Platter and Cup/Bowl
Parts.
Figure 4.38: Photograph by the author, with Wei Ming
and Rudy Frank, from the collection of Peter Davies.
Figure 4.44: A Selection of Common Vessel Profiles.
Figure 4.40: Photograph by Susan Briggs, used with
Figure 4.45: Undecorated basin rim.
permission.
Figure 4.46: Undecorated coffee can.

Figure 4.47: White granite candlestick.

Figure 4.48: Children’s plate fragments.

Figure 4.49: Saucer with child-related pattern.

Figure 4.50: Small undecorated cup.

Figure 4.51: ‘Brussels’ pattern drainer, front.

Figure 4.52: ‘Brussels’ pattern drainer, undecorated

reverse.

Figure 4.53: ‘Coral Border’ pattern bone china lid.

Figure 4.54: Transfer-printed platter.

Figure 4.55: Transfer-printed saucers.

Figure 4.56: Selected makers’ marks.

Figure 4.57: The evolution of plate profiles over time.

Figure 5.1: American-market materials in Australia 1.

Figure 5.2: American-market materials in Australia 2.

Figure 5.3: Australian advertising on British-made

plate.
iv
 Acknowledgements
The research and writing of this book was funded by a
post-doctoral research fellowship at La Trobe University,
Australia, and I am grateful to all of the members of the
Archaeology program for their help and support.
I am particularly grateful to Susan Lawrence. In
January 2000, at the annual conference of the Society for
Historical Archaeology in Quebec City, I started to chat
to Susan at the conclusion of her session. While
discussing some of our work over lunch, Susan asked me
‘have you thought about working in Australia when you
finish your doctorate’ (then on the verge of submission).
I hadn’t. A year and a half later, largely due to Susan’s
powers of persuasion, I had taken up the research
fellowship in Melbourne. Since then, Susan has been
supportive of the publication of this book well above and
beyond the call of duty, reading the draft manuscript,
serving as editor, liaising with ASHA, working with
printers, and many other tasks both small and great. This
book would not have appeared without her help and
support.
The manuscript was reviewed by Mary Casey
and Teresita Majewski, and I am grateful to both of them
for their helpful remarks and comments. I am
particularly indebted to Terry for her assistance with
sending me copies of neglected references not easily
found in Australia.
Draft pre-review chapters of this book were also
read by Peter Davies and Susan Briggs. I am indebted to
both of them for taking the time and trouble to pass on
their comments and thereby help to improve the volume.
Rudy Frank and Wei Ming assisted with several images.
I am particularly grateful to Ming for the map of
Australia, and for transforming my digital photographs
into clearer images in the book.
Large sections of Chapters 1 and 2 – and smaller
portions of later chapters -were developed from the
methodological discussions in my doctoral thesis, The
Comparative Analysis of Late 18th- and 19th-Century
Ceramics – a Trans-Atlantic Perspective, from the
University of York, UK (2001). Some of the non-
Australian practical examples in this book are also based
on the thesis. I am indebted to my thesis supervisor,
Harold Mytum, the other two members of my advisory
panel, Lawrence Butler and Tania Dickinson, and my
external examiner David Gaimster for their comments
and help with the original versions of the relevant
sections.
Originally, my fellowship stated that I was
supposed to look at international UK-Australia pottery
comparisons, and the implications thereof for
expressions of regional and national identities. I rapidly
became frustrated with my inability to examine this topic
with the available data. Inspiration for the change in
v
focus that led to this book came through two disparate
sources – one of whom knows the role she played, the
other who doesn’t. Susan Buckham suggested over the
phone from Edinburgh that I try to develop some
parameters and definitions of my own if I was really
having a problem. I initially wasn’t convinced, but when
Iain Stuart suggested in a discussion at the 2001 ASHA
conference in Canberra that he hoped I’d provide a book
that an Australian historical archaeologist could just open
and use to identify ceramics, I started to come around to
the idea. So thanks to Susan (who already knows) and
Iain (who doesn’t) for two critical pieces of inspiration.
Trying to list all of the individuals who provided
access to, suggestions on, and/or assistance with various
assemblages in Australia is a difficult task, but I would
particularly like to thank (in no particular order) Graham
Connah, Jenny Dickens, Wayne Johnson, Leah
McKenzie, Annie Muir, Tim Murray, Penny Crook, Greg
Jackman, Susan Briggs, Jeremy Smith and Sophie Pullar.
I am particularly grateful to Jeremy Smith and Jenny
Dickens at Heritage Victoria for granting permission to
use pieces from the HV archaeology laboratory in
Abbotsford, Victoria for most of the images in this book.
Specific acknowledgements of Australian colleagues
who have allowed me to use unpublished data follow in
a special section below.
I was assisted with the basic artefact processing
and identification of different assemblages by student
volunteers from La Trobe, Melbourne, and Monash
universities. I lack the space to list all of them here, but
I would particularly like to thank Cheryl Kift, Catherine
Longford, Rachel Skerys, Debbie Zukerman and Jennifer
Ip for sticking with it the longest.
Thanks also to David Barker and Miranda
Goodby, who put me up during a research trip to the UK
in October 2002, and George Dalgleish at the National
Museums of Scotland who offered me assistance on the
same trip – the results of which form part of the
discussion of economy in Chapter 5. David was also
consulted by reviewer Teresita Majewski on several
sections of the manuscript, and his advice has proven
invaluable. Nigel Jeffries kindly offered me an
opportunity to rummage through the Museum of London
Archaeological Service collections on a volunteer basis
in August 2003 while I was stuck in the UK waiting for
my Australian fiancé visa to come through, thereby
helping refine some of the details of Chapters 4 and 5.
George Miller kindly provided permission for the
reproduction of his shell edge chronology, and also
assisted with the accurate identification of, and
terminology for, dyed-body wares.
Special thanks are due to Ghattas, Jason, Marg, Maree,
Mimi, and Petra for offering indirect support through
friendship during this book’s long gestation. without Penny and Tim’s generous assistance.
Publications related to this project have since become
And most importantly of all… spasiba, Zoya. available (Crook, Ellmoos and Murray 2003).

Finally, let me add the requisite humble apology

to anyone whom I may have inadvertently overlooked,
and state that despite the assistance I received from so
many others, all errors of fact and perceived errors of
interpretation remain solely my own responsibility.

SITE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Several examples in this book are based on

unpublished work carried out by colleagues. As I have
not been able to cite this work in the text, I would like to
take this opportunity to specifically acknowledge and
thank the following colleagues who have graciously
permitted me to use unpublished data from their sites.

Lake Innes, Port Macquarie, New South Wales: These

sites were excavated by Professor Graham Connah of the
Australian National University. I undertook a major re-
evaluation of the ceramics in late 2002 and early 2003 at
Professor Connah’s request, the results of which will
hopefully be published in 2005.

Port Arthur, Tasmania: I have used several examples

from the 25 years worth of excavated artefacts at the Port
Arthur Historic Site, based on visits I made to Tasmania
at the request of site archaeologist Greg Jackman. These
visits were originally undertaken to assist with the
construction of a Port Arthur computerised artefact
database.

Quebec Street, Port Adelaide, South Australia: This

site was excavated by Flinders University post-graduate
student Susan Briggs as part of her doctoral research. I
visited Adelaide in March 2003 to look at Susan’s
assemblages at her request. The photograph of the Alboin
pattern plate in Chapter 4 was also generously provided
by Susan.

Viewbank, Melbourne, Victoria: This site was

excavated by Dr. Leah McKenzie of Heritage Victoria. I
intermittently supervised the re-processing of the
ceramics assemblage from this site between late 2001 and
early 2003.

Exploring the Archaeology of the Early Modern City

Project: This is not a site as such, but must still be
mentioned. Project archaeologist Penny Crook, with the
co-operation of project chief investigator Tim Murray,
very generously supplied me with unpublished lists of all
of the identified manufacturers and transfer-printed
patterns known in New South Wales from the database of
this La Trobe University-led project. Compilation of
Appendix A in particular would have been impossible
vi

Introduction
The title of this book is self-explanatory, but this
introduction outlines the parameters of the volume and
what it hopes to achieve. This volume aims to offer a
readable and practical, but nonetheless scholarly, guide to
the archaeological analysis of British ceramics found in
Australia dating from the beginning of European
settlement at Sydney (January 1788) to Federation
(January 1901). While aimed primarily at students and/or
beginners, I hope that it will also prove to be of some
value to more experienced researchers. In addition to
containing a basic guide to the processing and
identification of ceramics, some pointers and suggestions
on analysis are also offered. I make no claims that this
book contains a comprehensive discussion of the relevant
issues, but it does attempt to at least be representative. I
regret that I have made no attempt to expand the scope of
this book to New Zealand; though I do very occasionally
cite work from across the Tasman, my focus is very much
on Australia. Nonetheless, I hope that the volume will
also prove useful for practioners based in New Zealand.
Following this introduction, the book consists of
five chapters and four appendices. Chapter 1 provides a
short overview of the history of ceramics analysis in
Australia, North America (primarily the United States, but
with some examples from Canada), and the United
Kingdom. The inclusion of North American and British
examples is intended to provide context for the study of a
material class that is important internationally. Chapter 2
advances a two-level model for ceramics analysis, divided
between issues of basic identification and more
interpretive areas. This model is the implicit and explicit
structure behind much of the discussion in the volume.
Chapter 3 offers some guidelines on field and laboratory
methods pertaining to ceramics. This chapter is a guide to
basic processing and cataloguing rather than a guide to
ceramics conservation; the latter is a specialist field not
covered in this volume. Chapter 4, perhaps the most
important chapter of this book, provides a practical guide
to the identification of ware, form, and decoration
respectively. The final chapter, Chapter 5, offers some
ideas and suggestions on the interpretive analysis of
ceramics assemblages, based on function, economy,
status, and meaning. This will inevitably be the most
contentious chapter, and it must very much be stressed
that the ideas discussed therein are offered as broad
guidelines, not as a dogmatic roadmap that seeks to
constrain analysis within a tightly defined path. Appendix
A features a list of known British manufacturers (and their
dates of operation) whose materials have been recovered
from Australian sites, Appendix B consists of a ceramics
time line cross-referenced to significant dates from
colonial Australian history, Appendix C features some
suggested further reading, and Appendix D contains the
curation guidelines of the Society for Historical
Archaeology.
The reasons why ceramics are important to the
historical archaeological record in Australia are
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
essentially identical to the reasons why they are important
to the archaeological record in much of the rest of the
world. Ceramics are nearly universal on domestic sites of
the period under discussion. They typically occur and
survive in reasonably large quantities (though perhaps
less so in some Australian contexts than in the UK or
North America), and can provide unrivalled information
on dating. Used carefully, ceramics can also provide
important information on function, economy, status, and
meaning at both the artefactual and site levels.
But if ceramics are so important, what makes this
book necessary? When I originally wrote this book,
beginning on a warm summer’s afternoon in late
December 2001 and completing the draft in mid-2003,
material culture analysis – including that of ceramics –
was something of a missing link in Australian historical
archaeology. As will be discussed in Chapter 1, despite
the excellent past Australian work on industry, landscapes
and buildings, local material culture studies have
sometimes suffered in comparison. Unlike in North
America and Britain, Australian historical archaeology
lacks a long-standing tradition of archaeological artefact
specialists whose job is almost exclusively the processing,
cataloguing (i.e. identification), and analysis of artefacts.
Material culture analysis, including ceramics analysis, is
still often carried out on an ad hoc basis by students or
volunteers. This theoretically provides important and
valuable training experience, but since there is a shortage
of specialists in Australia who might provide the
necessary assistance to these students and volunteers,
many of the same faulty identifications and analyses are
often repeated in reports. Needless to say, if basic
identifications are incorrect, all subsequent analysis will
be faulty.
In the past, this situation had much to do with
demographics – historical archaeology was a new
discipline in Australia in the 1970s and 1980s, and in a
nation of fewer than 20 million people in an area the size
of the continental United States, it was understandable
that expertise and knowledge was often thinly stretched.
As the discipline has matured, the situation has
undoubtedly improved; even in the early days there were
exceptions prepared to give artefacts their due, and some
Australian researchers have now been building up
expertise for decades. Chapter 1 relies heavily on the
work of these individuals. Nonetheless, while the
specifics of the challenge have moved on, Birmingham’s
1988 observation arguably remains almost as accurate
now as it was then:
In any state-of-the-discipline enquiry into
current Australian historical archaeology
the biggest question marks concern the
interpretation of artefacts and their
integration into larger archaeological
research designs (1988a: 149).
Two issues within the specific context of Australian
ceramics analysis are of particular concern: the lack of a
1
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

standardised terminology, and the lack – until recently – of
any wide-spread methodological and theoretical
discussions of what cataloguing and analysis should
actually consist of. It is these issues that this book
particularly hopes to address.
Of course, ceramics are but one element of an
archaeological excavation, and but one element of material
culture – an often important one, but not necessarily one
with a universal level of importance across all sites. The
discussions in this book pre-suppose that the reader is
working with an assemblage that the reader has already
decided should be integrated into broader site
interpretation, and used to help answer the research
questions relevant to that site. But this should not be taken
as implying that every ceramics assemblage from every
site will require the level of in-depth analysis sometimes
implied in these pages. This should always be decided on
a case by case basis, and an ‘assemblage’ consisting of five
sherds will rarely need the sort of interpretation covered in
Chapter 5. At the very least, however, it is hoped that the
sections on identification and processing will be of
assistance on any site including ceramics.
It is also worth noting that while much excellent
North American and British work on the identification of
British pottery already exists (see Chapter 1), this body of
research is not necessarily always relevant to the
Australian experience. Leafing through the North
American and British literature will often prove
disappointing to the Australian historical archaeologist as
the specific socio-cultural history of Australia means that
many of the issues relevant to ceramics analysis in the
Atlantic world simply are not as directly applicable to
Australia. For example, until quite recently, the great
tradition of British post-medieval pottery description
usually failed to include ceramics that post-dated 1800 – a
cut-off date with little relevance to any but the earliest
colonial sites in Australia. Likewise, the great North
American analytical tradition frequently depends on
specific data that are simply not directly applicable to
Australia – knowing the value of pottery in New York City
is of questionable relevance in Kalgoorlie. To briefly
summarise, there is a need for an Australian material
culture literature that can not only offer a simple guide to
pottery identification, but can also do so with specifically
Australian issues and Australian contexts in mind. This
book aims to make just such a contribution.
Australian and North American contexts (Brooks 2002:
48). Issues of technical pottery terminology are dealt with
in Chapter 4. Reference is often made in the text to the
main international historical archaeology professional
societies by their acronyms. ASHA is the Australasian
Society for Historical Archaeology, SPMA is the (UK-
based) Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology, and the
SHA is the (North American-based) Society for Historical
Archaeology. Citation of the ASHA journal Australasian
Historical Archaeology occasionally presents a mild
complication. In the 1990s, the journal often appeared two
to three years late; citation dates in the text refer to the
official intended date of the volume number rather than the
year of actual appearance. This does lead to some
chronological inconsistencies – some journal articles cite
work that postdates the articles’ own official publication –
but is the least imperfect approach available. Finally, a
quick summary of Australian state and territory
abbreviations for the assistance of any Northern
Hemisphere readers to whom they may be unfamiliar:
ACT – Australian Capital Territory; NSW – New South
Wales; NT – Northern Territory; QLD – Queensland; SA –
South Australia; TAS – Tasmania; VIC – Victoria; WA –
Western Australia.
To conclude this introduction, I would very much
like to stress that this book should not be treated as some
sort of fossilised final word on identification and
interpretation. Archaeology changes. The discipline is not
static. It would be a terrible mistake if any work, never
mind this one, were to be seen as part of an immutable,
unchangeable canon. While I very much wish that this
book will prove to be of use for some time to come, I
equally have no doubt that parts of this volume will seem
increasingly dated in the (hopefully reasonably far-off)
future. At least I hope they do, for that would prove that
our discipline has continued to change and evolve.

A couple of brief words on terminology: when

discussing work from the UK I have often used the term
‘historical archaeology’ rather than ‘post-medieval
archaeology’, though the latter term still appears when I
discuss more traditional work. There are two reasons for
this usage: first, it is inordinately easier to just write
‘historical archaeology’ rather than ‘historical and post-
medieval archaeology’ every time I discuss examples from
the UK and either Australia and North America in the same
sentence. Second, the term ‘historical archaeology’ is in
any case creeping into British usage, although it carries
specific theoretical implications not present when used in

2

Chapter 1:
A Brief Overview of Ceramics Analysis in Historical Archaeology
This chapter offers a discussion of past work in ceramics
analysis in Australia; discussions of past work in the
United Kingdom and North America are also offered in
order to provide context for the Australian work. To call a
chapter ‘a brief overview of ceramics analysis in
historical archaeology’ is to set oneself a thankless task.
Few areas of the literature have generated so much in the
way of research, discussion, and analysis, and to have the
hubris to believe that work from Australia, the UK, and
North America can be adequately discussed in this one
chapter is to practically invite the charge of over-
ambition. Nonetheless, if this chapter by necessity cannot
claim to be comprehensive, an attempt will be made to
offer an overview of the main themes relevant to this
volume. Readers are encouraged to follow the citations in
this chapter to the original source material, as only the
briefest summaries can be offered here.
Important work has also taken place on other
continents, and if this is largely excluded it is only
because the United Kingdom and North America are the
most important influences on Australian historical
archaeology, and that limits must be set somewhere if this
chapter is not to become impossibly unwieldy.
Nonetheless, brief mention should be made of the
excellent work of Klose and Malan (eg. 1993; 2000),
whose discussions of British imperial trade, and the
archaeological ceramics record in South Africa, have
potential implications for all British colonies, including
Australia. While the focus of this chapter will by necessity
very much be on British ceramics, it is not entirely limited
to the latter subject; where it is relevant to the broader
discussion, examples from other types of material culture
analysis have also been included.
POST-MEDIEVAL CERAMICS IN BRITAIN
As this book is about British ceramics in Australia, it is
appropriate to discuss how British archaeology has dealt
with the subject in the material’s home sphere. The entire
subdiscipline of British post-medieval archaeology
arguably grew out of the need to study the growing
amount of pottery recovered from sites with both
medieval and post-medieval components; Hurst (1991:
12) was of the opinion that the earliest known publication
of post-medieval pottery was an 1847 article on Tudor
green jugs in the Archaeological Journal. Indeed, the
Society for Post-Medieval Archaeology (founded 1967)
grew out of the Post-Medieval Ceramics Research Group,
itself founded in 1964 in order to study ceramics dating
between 1450 and 1750. The latter dates have had a far-
reaching effect on the discipline in Britain, and it is worth
noting why they were chosen: 1450 traditionally marked
the decline of medieval pottery traditions, while 1750
marked the beginning of English porcelain production
(Barton 1967: 102-103).
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
The descriptive tradition of British post-
medieval archaeology pottery studies has always been a
particular strength of the discipline, as has indeed been
recognised in the Australian literature (Crook et al 2002:
27). A few examples of the extensive literature on this
topic might include descriptions of imported French jugs
in England (Hurst 1974), the pottery of the Donyatt kilns
of southwest England (Coleman-Smith and Pearson
1988), post-medieval ceramics recovered from Exeter
(Allan 1984: 98-226), and even a Shire Archaeology
quick reference guide to post-medieval pottery (Draper
1984). Of particular note in the more recent literature are
Barker’s volume on the Staffordshire potter William
Greatbatch (Barker 1991) and Gaimster’s work on
German stoneware 1200-1900 (Gaimster 1997), both of
which must be considered landmarks in the descriptive
tradition.
One of the criticisms of British post-medieval
ceramics analysis in the past has been that it is
intrinsically atheoretical, and more interested in
description than analysis (eg. Crook et al. 2002: 27). Yet
this criticism is misplaced. Interpretation is surely
impossible without data, and awareness of the potential of
this data is impossible without adequate description and
classification. From this perspective, the descriptive
tradition emerges as one of the great strengths of British
post-medieval archaeology. If British archaeologists had
not produced this body of work, then the more interpretive
analysis of the Americans (and some Australians) would
essentially be impossible. And in any case, interpretation
has in fact taken place in the British literature. While
interpretive material culture studies might not have been
prominent in British post-medieval archaeology until
recently, they have nonetheless formed part of the
discipline almost from the beginning. As early as 1968,
Jenkins’ Post-Medieval Archaeology paper on ‘Post-
medieval archaeology and folk life studies’ argued that
‘The possession of a material object is but a starting point
in the study of the lore, custom and language associated
with that object’ (Jenkins 1968: 3-4). In subsequent years,
Coleman-Smith and Pearson (1988: 178-81) included an
extensive discussion of the social contexts of Donyatt
pottery plates portraying Siamese Twins, while John
Lewis (1982) and Elizabeth Lewis (1991a) considered the
social background of the Ewenny and Blackwater
potteries respectively. Even a brief paper such as Allen’s
description of Bellarmine ‘witch bottles’ from Hampshire
included a short consideration of secondary function,
meaning, and social context (Allen 1991). If this
incomplete list can hardly be described as demonstrating
the existence of a broad theory-informed corpus of work,
it at least demonstrates that the necessary base for a wider
interpretive study of post-medieval ceramics has existed
in Britain for some time.
Since the mid-1990s, there has been a very real
3
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
growth in analytical studies in Britain (though this is not to
deny that description still remains the focus and strength of
post-medieval ceramics studies). An incomplete list
follows. Gaimster’s massive work on German stoneware
contains extensive discussions on ‘the social role of
stoneware in European society’ (Gaimster 1997: 115),
notably how certain tankards served as ‘vehicles for the
translation of polemical and propagandist images into the
ceramic medium’ (Gaimster 1997: 148), and how family
symbols could be used by ‘groups eager to display their
fealty and political sympathies … within the home
environment’ (Gaimster 1997: 153). Matthews’
examination of the archaeology of Chester’s industrial
poor is notable for including ceramics in its broad study of
the potential of issues of status and meaning in the
archaeology of the nineteenth-century (Matthews 1999).
Research has also taken place on the interaction of
regional and national identities within the United
Kingdom; this has focused both on how this was expressed
by the producers of ceramics (Brooks 1997, 1999) and
how this was experienced by the users (Brooks 2000,
2003). Recently in Post-Medieval Archaeology, Pearce
(2000) included an extensive discussion of function and
broader social issues in her paper on an eighteenth-
century inn clearance assemblage from Uxbridge. Brief
mention should also be made of the volume edited by
Cumberpatch and Blinkhorn, Not So Much a Pot, More a
Way of Life (1997). While only one of the seven papers
deals in any way with post-medieval pottery (Musgrave’s
work on the potters of the Saintonge, France, 1500 to
1800), the various discussions in the book clearly
demonstrate the extent to which more interpretive studies
now permeate through British ceramics analysis, whatever
the period of focus.
From an Australian perspective, the real problem
with using British work on ceramics has not been the lack
of broader analysis on British themes that might
potentially be relevant to a British colony, but rather the
lack of work on periods relevant to colonial Australia. As
mentioned earlier, the original conceptual end date for
post-medieval archaeology was 1750. While this was
expressed as the traditional beginning date for English
porcelain, it might equally be conceptualised as the
beginning of the industrial period. This situation has been
changing of late, but British publications on pottery that
deal with the nineteenth century are still undoubtedly in a
small minority. Some of the very few exceptions would
include Kelly’s catalogues in Norman Emery’s report on
Hirta, St. Kilda (Kelly 1996); Foster’s similar catalogues
from excavations at Barra, also in the Outer Hebrides
(Foster 1995); and recent work on ceramics from Wales
(Brooks 2003). The previously mentioned work by
Matthews on nineteenth-century Chester is also relevant,
though here the pottery is but a small part of a wider
discussion (Matthews 1999).
To fully explore the reasons why British
archaeology has so far largely neglected the nineteenth
century is beyond the scope of this book, but it is worth
mentioning one date-related matter that marks a very real
4
distinction between historical archaeology in Britain on
the one hand and Australia and North America on the
other. In Australia and the United States, there is a very
real break between the archaeological traditions that have
studied pre-European indigenous peoples on the one hand,
and historical archaeology on the other. In contrast, British
archaeologists often stress the continuity between the
medieval and post-medieval periods. Indeed, early
seminal figures in the study of medieval and post-medieval
pottery, such as Gerald Dunning, John Lewis, John Hurst,
and Kenneth Barton, were perfectly happy to move
between both worlds. This is amply reflected in
festschrifts to these authors (Evison et al 1974; Gaimster
and Redknapp 1992; Lewis 1991b; Vyner and Wrathmell
1987), all of which might focus on one period, but all of
which include contributions on the other. This continuity
between periods means that by necessity British historical
archaeology will always have at least one fundamental
difference of focus compared to its Australian and North
American counterparts.
British historical archaeology thus currently
stands at a minor crossroads. If there is no denying that in
the past the discipline has tended to focus on description to
the detriment of analysis, then it must equally be
acknowledged that more analysis has taken place recently,
and that the British descriptive tradition is in any case a
very real strength of the discipline. Likewise, if there is no
point in denying that much past British work focuses on
periods with little direct relevance to Australia, then it
should be noted that British archaeologists are beginning
to realise the potential of the more recent past. Whether
these recent developments are of long-reaching
significance, or represent a temporary state of affairs, is
still open to question – but it can only be hoped that it is
the former.
CERAMICS IN NORTH AMERICAN HISTORICAL
ARCHAEOLOGY
Such is the influence of North American historical
archaeology on current debates in Australian artefact
analysis, that some discussion of the history of ceramics
studies from that region is an absolute necessity. The
stereotypical picture is that where British work is
descriptive and atheoretical, American work is analytical
and theory-informed. While there is some truth to this, it
is also – as with all sweeping generalisations – an
oversimplification. Many of the analytical techniques
mentioned in this section, such as pattern analysis, mean
ceramic dates, and the CC index, are discussed in more
detail in Chapters 4 and 5.
If the role of analysis in American work is of
undoubted importance, the descriptive tradition was also
strong in the early years of North American historical
archaeology. Of particular note in this regard is Ivor Noël
Hume’s Artefacts of Colonial America (1970). While this
book aimed to describe artefacts from North American
sites, it is very much grounded in the British

archaeological traditions in which its author was trained
(Noël Hume 2001) instead of the American
anthropological tradition. Despite subsequent moves
away from the description and identification of artefacts
in favour of what might be described as ‘quantifying and
understanding the material record’, this descriptive
tradition has never entirely disappeared from the North
American literature. A few examples would include
Sussman’s studies of Spode pottery on Hudson Bay
Company sites (1979) and the manufacture of industrial
slipwares (1997), the Potomac Typology System for
defining colonial Chesapeake vessel forms (Beaudry et al
1991), and Samford’s (1997) dating of transfer prints by
style. Leading ceramics researcher George Miller has
also produced extensive work on industrial-era materials.
Unfortunately, Miller’s seminal work – the importance
and influence of which cannot be stressed enough – is
often published as appendices to articles with a different
focus (eg Miller 1991a) or in publications that might
prove difficult for Australian researchers to access easily
(eg Miller 1993).
The most important descriptive American paper
from an international perspective remains Majewski and
O’Brien’s 1987 classic ‘The Use and Misuse of
Nineteenth-Century English and American Ceramics in
Archaeological Analysis’. More than 15 years after
publication, this remains an invaluable guide to the
technology and typology of nineteenth-century ceramics,
and the present volume cites this work extensively in the
Chapter 4 typologies. Some of the discussions of
specifically American issues are not entirely relevant in
Australia, but Majewski and O’Brien remains
indispensable reading for those studying ceramics on any
continent.
More recently, the appearance of the Ceramics In
America series (Hunter 2001; 2002) promises to make an
important ongoing contribution to ceramics studies, and
not just in North America. To take but three examples
from the first two editions, Carpentier and Rickard (2001)
offer an in-depth discussion of the manufacture processes
of industrial slipwares, Miller and Hunter (2001) explore
the origins of pearlware, while Owen (2002) offers a
highly detailed discussion of the chemical composition of
eighteenth-century British ceramics (with a particular
focus on porcelain). These – and similar papers – promise
to turn Ceramics in America into one of the most
important archaeological sources for ceramics studies in
the coming years.
The overall approach towards artefacts within
North American historical archaeology was undeniably
transformed by the arrival of the New Archaeology and
processualism. This is not the place to offer yet another
discussion of processualism’s concern with ‘cultural
theory, processual arguments, and the interrelationship of
cultural variables’ (Binford and Binford 1968: 2) or the
full impact thereof on material culture analysis. But there
can be no doubt that among its other influences, the
processualist agenda had a significant, long-term effect on
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
North American ceramics studies. Initially, this was
particularly true of attempts to develop means of
empirically quantifying the archaeological data.
Binford’s development of J.C. Harrington’s early
work on the dating of clay tobacco pipe stems was
particularly important in this context. Harrington had
noticed a tendency for pipe stem bores to become smaller
over time, and used drill bits measured in 64ths of an inch
increments to prove the relationship between bore
diameter and time (Harrington 1978). Binford developed
this work into the first explicit use of a regression formula
in historical archaeology: ‘Y=1931.85 – 38.26X’, where
Y is the date to be determined, 1931.85 is the date that
bore stems would theoretically disappear if the observed
narrowing over time were to continue, 38.26 the mean
interval in years between changes in 64th of an inch
measurements, and X the mean bore diameter in the
sample under analysis (Binford 1978: 66). In actual
application, the formula is best used on sites predating the
British settlement of Australia – particularly since pipe
stem bore holes rather spectacularly failed to disappear in
late 1931 – but Binford’s formula stands as a benchmark
in the North American search for a more empirical,
‘scientific’ archaeology.
The scientific-processualist approach found its
most important expression in historical archaeology in
South’s 1977 book Method and Theory in Historical
Archaeology. The overtly positivist approach of this work
perhaps seems slightly dated today, but the importance of
its influence has been undeniable. Of particular note to
ceramics analysis was South’s development of activity
categories in pattern recognition (1977: 83-139), and the
mean ceramic date formula (1977: 217-218). In pattern
recognition analysis, South divided artefacts into different
functional categories – kitchen, architectural, clothing,
etc. – and percentage ranges were established for each
category. If site assemblages fell within the percentage
range, then they could be assumed to belong to a broad
cultural group; if they did not, then some explanation of
the variation became necessary. While few current North
American practitioners would use South’s original
categories, or engage with patterns in the same sense,
South’s assumptions have often been a strong influence
on the categorisation of artefacts (including ceramics) in
North America. This is true both of cataloguing in
contract archaeology (eg John Milner Associates 1994)
and analysis of assemblages (eg Zierdan 1999: 77-79).
South’s work also seems to form the implicit basis for the
use of functional categories in Australian databases – a
point explored in more detail in Chapter 5.
The principle of the regression formula, as
explored by Binford in his work on pipe stems,
reappeared in the form of South’s mean ceramic date
formula (MCD). The MCD is in essence a means for
calculating a mean date of occupation for a site based on
the median date of manufacture for the ceramics
recovered from the site. By the early 1990s, this means of
quantifying site occupation date had found widespread
5
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
acceptance in North America, particularly in contract
archaeology and museum reports (eg Cheek et al. 1994;
Heath 1991; Pogue and White 1991). Unusually for a
technique originally developed for historical archaeology,
the MCD also found acceptance in the archaeology of
indigenous America (eg. Goetze and Mills 1993; Goff and
Reed 1998; Reed and Hensler 1999). While no longer as
common today, it will often feature prominently when
older literature is consulted. A full critique of this
analytical tool may be found under ‘date’ in Chapter 4.
But if ceramics analysis in North America has
been influenced by the empirical paradigm of
processualism, then it has equally been influenced by the
more humanistic search for ideological meaning, as most
famously expounded by James Deetz. Deetz’s In Small
Things Forgotten (1996), originally published in 1977,
explored how material culture could be used to explore the
relationship among objects, cognition, and culture (Deetz
1996: 32-37). In the book’s discussion of ceramics, Deetz
offered a development of Binford’s three level structure of
function: technomic function is the ‘strictly utilitarian’ use
of a vessel; socio-technic function ‘involves its [the
artefact’s] use in a social rather than a technological way’;
and ideo-technic function ‘sees the use of artifacts in
religious and ideological contexts’ (Deetz 1996: 74-75).
The activity categories of South’s pattern analysis are
highly technomic in their focus on functional categories,
but much American work has also taken place in the more
interpretive spheres of social use and ideological meaning.
A couple of examples of this focus on social and
ideological issues in ceramics analysis might include both
Yentsch’s work on gender (Yentsch 1991a; 1991b) and
discussions of the role of colonoware (also sometimes
spelled ‘colono-ware’) in the archaeology of African-
America. Yentsch studied how the deeply embedded
social meanings of space affect the symbolic meanings of
ceramics in a male/female division – the symbolism of
ceramics derives not only from the social rank of the
people who use the vessels, but also from the gender-
associated social space where the vessels are stored.
Domestic space is seen as feminine, while community and
exterior space is seen as masculine (Yentsch 1991b: 193-
197). In the author’s own words,
As symbols, ceramic vessels were part of a
prestige structure associated with food use.
Their differential use by various status
groups [including those defined by gender]
was a mechanism by which one status group
was set apart from another: thus to study
variation on ceramic assemblages is to study
the archaeology of inequality (Yentsch
1991b: 215).
Colonoware is a locally produced colonial-era
pottery type found in the southern United States that was
originally thought to have been made by Native Americans
influenced by European ceramic and food traditions (Noël
Hume 1962). Later research instead recognised that
colonoware was generally made by African-Americans,
6
but was influenced in form and function by a complex
social interaction between the African-American,
Euroamerican, and Indigenous communities of the South
(Ferguson 1992: 22). Once the role of the African-
American population was recognised, it was a relatively
simple matter to identify possible ideological signifiers on
the pottery, such as African Bakongo cosmograms
(Ferguson 1992: 110-116). Similar principles have been
applied to the identification of African symbology on
British pottery found on sites associated with enslaved
African-Americans. For example,the practice of smashing
or perforating the base of ceramic vessels on such sites has
been directly tied to Bakongo funerary practices
(Thompson and Cornet 1987).
An analytical system which does not fit
comfortably into either the empirical or humanistic models
(partially because its author has never claimed any
theoretical basis for it), but which must be mentioned, is
George Miller’s CC index (1991a; 1991b). Miller’s
method – a full discussion of which may be found in
Chapter 5 – provides a statistical framework for measuring
the economic value of ceramic assemblages dating from
the late eighteenth to nineteenth centuries. Different
decorative techniques are assigned different relative values
depending on vessel form and the date of the assemblage.
Because it can be adjusted over time, it allows – within
limits – for comparisons of the relative values of different
assemblages from different time periods. Miller’s system
has gained widespread acceptance in North America
across both contract and academic archaeology. It has
enjoyed particular popularity in attempts to compare the
social associations of ceramics assemblages from enslaved
and free communities on southern plantation sites (eg.
Adams and Boling 1991; Gruber 1991; Heath 1991).
Extensive attempts have also been made to use CC indices
as part of wider examinations of economic and status-
related issues within the United States (eg. Spencer-Wood
1987).
While there is no doubting that North America
has produced far more in the way of theory-informed
analytical ceramics studies than either Britain or Australia,
it is important to acknowledge that many of the
developments just discussed have their parallels
elsewhere. In Britain, Deetz’s focus on the cognitive value
of material culture was independently mirrored by
Jenkins’ desire to examine the ‘lore, custom and language’
associated with an object (Jenkins 1968). Similarly, the
tripartite division of function into technomic, socio-
technic, and ideo-technic arenas has found a close British
parallel in Gaimster’s consideration of the different roles
of function, use, and meaning in the analysis of German
stoneware (Gaimster 1997: 115). Australia has featured
work similar to and influenced by both British and
American research, and it is now time to turn our attention
to the part of the world which this book is ostensibly about.

CERAMICS ANALYSIS IN AUSTRALIA
While the preceding discussion of past work in Britain
and North America was necessary to provide context,
given that this book is about ceramics in Australia, it is
only right that Australia should form the longest part of
this first chapter. Furthermore, there has been no previous
attempt at a broad historiography of past material culture
studies generally – and ceramics studies specifically – in
the recent Australian literature. In the last few years, brief
overviews have featured in papers by Lawrence (1998: 9),
Connah (2002: 6) and Crook, Lawrence, and Gibbs (2002:
28), but none of these can be realistically considered to be
comprehensive summaries (and nor were they intended as
such). While the first two parts of this chapter were only
thematic overviews of their subject, this section aims to be
a more inclusive historiography of past ceramic studies in
Australia, though inevitably even here it is impossible to
discuss every relevant publication. In order to ensure that
the cited sources are as broadly accessible as possible, the
focus of this overview is on academically published work
rather than in-house consultancy reports or unpublished
theses, though important examples of these are
occasionally included. This overview is in more or less
chronological order, but thematic consistency is
sometimes given precedence over precise chronology.
While the focus is inevitably on ceramics, other types of
material culture studies are included when relevant.
Until recently, artefact studies have not played as
significant a part in Australian historical archaeology as
they might have done. In 1983, Connah wrote:
Much of historical archaeology is
intrinsically interesting and yet if merely
catalogued and described and registered it
can become very dead indeed. Page upon
page of information about pots, or buttons,
or steam-engines, or verandah posts, or
bottles, or mine shafts, or nails, eventually
numbs the mind. To be of any use these
things must tell us something, they must help
us understand – and they must help us
understand something of significance
(Connah 1983: 21).
Yet in the years immediately following Connah’s
observation, Australian historical archaeology often
seemed to react to the problem of saying ‘something of
significance’ about artefacts by ignoring them completely.
Lawrence has accurately observed that:
In many [Australian] excavations artefact
analysis is never completed, and if
completed, it plays a minor role in the
reporting and interpretation of the site.
Assemblages that we insist museums
maintain are rarely exploited or looked at
again (Lawrence 1998: 9).
Compounding the problem (as noted in the
introduction) was that much of the past analysis that took
place in Australia was undertaken by students who were
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
given little in the way of training and support. In many
cases, the end result was an unfortunate situation where
analysis rarely took place, and what cataloguing and
analysis that did take place often repeated the same errors.
While there were many noteworthy exceptions, examples
of which will be discussed hereafter, it has often been hard
to disagree with Crook, Lawrence and Gibbs’ observation
that, as of 2002, Australian historical archaeology had
adopted the American approach of limiting artefact
catalogues to a minimal description, but the British
practice of limiting artefact interpretation to minimal
analysis (Crook et al. 2002: 28).
Yet if there have been problems with the past
state of artefact analysis and description in Australian
historical archaeology, the subdiscipline has nonetheless
built up a body of literature on the subject that cannot be
lightly dismissed – and recent years have brought to the
literature a much broader body of important, substantive
work. This is as true of pottery specifically as it is of
artefacts generally. The earliest artefact studies in
Australian historical archaeology appeared in the
newsletter of the Australian Society for Historical
Archaeology (the ‘Australasian Society for Historical
Archaeology’ since 1994), which first appeared in 1970 –
only three years after the foundation of the SHA in the
USA and SPMA in the UK. Many of these early artefacts
studies were subsequently compiled by Birmingham and
Bairstow in Papers in Australian Historical Archaeology
(1987). The relevant studies in this volume are today of
interest largely as historical documents shedding light on
the early history of the discipline rather than for current
research potential. The material culture papers are often
indicative of Judy Birmingham’s heroic early efforts to
provide some sort of descriptive basis for the field. Three
of the papers in the collection deal with ceramics to
greater or lesser degrees, though their focus is on
Australian-made materials, rather than the British
ceramics that form the focus of the current volume. These
include Birmingham and Fahy’s (1987) brief overview of
old Australian pottery, Ungar’s (1987) discussion of the
New South Wales Mashman Brothers pottery firm, and
the stoneware catalogue in Wade’s paper (1987) on
excavations in Mary Ann Street, Ultimo, NSW. All of
these brief articles are in the descriptive tradition, and
only Birmingham and Fahy’s (1987: 9-11) early attempt
to look for similarities between American and Australian
pottery forms can be considered to be of any long-term
significance.
Another relevant publication from the first
decade of ASHA’s history was Graham’s ‘ASHA
Occasional Paper No. 2’ titled ‘Printed Ceramics in
Australia’ (Graham nd – but probably 1978). As with the
papers in the Birmingham and Bairstow volume, much of
the discussion in Graham has naturally been supplanted
by more recent research. Nonetheless, Graham’s paper is
notable for containing some of the earliest discussions in
the Australian literature of such issues as why individuals
might have acquired items for the household (Graham nd:
4) and the production of Australian-themed designs by
7
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
British potters (Graham nd: 14-15).
These early ASHA contributions aside, published
studies in Australian historical archaeology were
somewhat scarce until the 1980s. This is not to claim that
no historical archaeology featuring artefact studies was
being undertaken in these early decades – as Wesson’s
1983 bibliography demonstrates. Nonetheless,
academically published ceramics-related work formed a
comparatively rare segment of the discipline’s literature in
this time period. Bickford’s 1971 article on the colonial
Irrawang pottery (NSW) of James King is remarkable for
being based on a ceramics site excavated at such an early
date, but the paper is mainly a historical study of King’s
role in the commercial and industrial development of New
South Wales. There is almost no mention of actual
artefacts beyond a few photographs. Connah, Rowland
and Oppenheimer included rather more in the way of
discussion of artefacts in their 1978 report on excavations
at Winterbourne House near modern Armidale, NSW. All
of Chapter 4 of the report is dedicated to artefacts,
including a small section on ceramics (Connah et al 1978:
51-52). Yet even here the actual building was far more
central to the broader study of colonial-era cultural
adaptation than were the artefacts.
One of the most important early studies to include
a discussion of the role of artefacts in site interpretation
was Allen’s article (itself based on his 1969 doctoral
thesis) on British imperialism at the Port Essington
military settlement (1838-1849) on the Cobourg Peninsula,
NT. While the artefact discussion here is fairly brief, it is
nonetheless important in its discussion of time lag at a
remote British colonial military settlement. Port Essington
was clearly being supplied with modern and up-to-date
goods despite its supposedly isolated location on
Australia’s tropical north coast; certain types of ceramics
decoration were appearing on the Cobourg peninsula
within two to three years of their introduction in
Staffordshire – ‘virtually the length of time needed to
transport the goods’ (Allen 1978: 145). This has
potentially important implications for dating British
pottery in Australia.
The coherent academic publication history of
historical archaeology in the Antipodes really begins with
the arrival of the Australian Journal of Historical
Archaeology (AJHA) in 1983 (Australasian Historical
Archaeology [AHA] since 1992). The first appearance of
artefact studies in the journal occurred in Volume 5 (1987),
with Ioannou’s study of the later nineteenth-century
German potter J.G.S. Hoffman in the Barossa Valley of
South Australia. This was one of the first specifically
Australian attempts to consider the broader social
implications of a material culture type. After a survey of
Hoffman’s pottery, Ioannou engaged in a discussion of the
persistence of German tradition (specifically the ‘Old
Lutherans’ of Brandenburg, Posen and Silesia) amongst
the Barossa Valley settlers, and their preference for objects
that looked German:
This preference for things of a specifically
German appearance provided a means by
8
which the Lutheran settlers could actively
indicate their community values and
attitudes, re-affirm their origins and display
their cultural identity (Ioannou 1987: 39).
One of the interesting aspects of Ioannou’s article
is the extent to which it is grounded in folk-life studies to
the total exclusion of archaeological material culture
theory. It thus has closer parallels to Jenkins’ 1968 British
folk-life studies model than the Deetzian humanism of
North American archaeology. Volume 5 of AJHA
contained a couple of other artefact studies, though these
are not ceramics-related. Combined with Ioannu,
Staniforth’s discussion of casks from the wreck of the
William Salthouse (Staniforth 1987), and Ritchie and
Park’s discussion of Chinese coins on the New Zealand
goldfields (Ritchie and Park 1987) mark this out as the
most artefact-heavy of the early volumes of the journal.
After 1987, ceramics analysis disappears from the
pages of the journal for over a decade, but there are some
papers on other material culture issues that were
significant for artefact studies in general. Bavin’s 1989
paper on the expression of status and class in material
culture marks one of the first overt and explicit published
Australian engagements with North American approaches
to artefacts. Bavin was dealing with the built environment
rather than pottery, but her argument that ‘the notion that
human beliefs, understandings and behaviours are
reflected in material culture is fundamental in historical
archaeology’ (Bavin 1989: 16) was based on American
studies that ‘have attempted to demonstrate ways in which
socio-cultural variables are manifested in the
archaeological record’ (Bavin 1989: 16). Deagan (1982),
Deetz (1996) and Otto (1980) were particularly influential
for Bavin.
Apart from the journal, the late 1980s also
marked the appearance of the still-influential Port Arthur
(TAS) Archaeological Procedures Manual (Davies and
Buckley 1987). Although a vitally important contribution
towards Australian fieldwork standards, the artefact
sections of the manual have proven less valuable. The
long chapter on ‘artefact cataloguing’ (Davies and Buckley
1987: 166-189) was a brave attempt to bring some sort of
order out of the chaos of early Australian artefact
processing, but perhaps suffers from an apparent lack of
familiarity with the specifics of artefact identification.
Some of the methodological discussion of artefact
processing still has merit, but much of the rest of the
discussion is now dated. Particularly relevant to the
current discussion is that the ceramics section of the
‘artefact fabric key’ (Davies and Buckley 1987: 184-189)
is problematic due to its flawed understanding of the
relationship of different ware types. As of this writing, a
replacement for the original Archaeology Procedures
Manual is under development by Port Arthur staff.
While there may have been inevitable gaps in the
literature in this time period, it would be wrong to suggest

that Australian researchers were not producing
interpretive ceramics studies. In 1988, Andrew Wilson
devoted an entire paper to fragments of Mason’s Patent
Ironstone recovered from Sir John Jamison’s 1820s
Regentville mansion in Penrith, NSW. Much of the
discussion of what Mason’s Patent Ironstone actually is
has been better covered by other archaeological literature
(see ‘ironstone’ in Chapter 4); of more direct interest here
is Wilson’s examination of how these wares tied into
Jamison’s broader lifestyle. Wilson argued that the
acquisition of what he considered to be highly fashionable
and ‘ostentatious’ wares tied directly into Jamison’s self-
presentation and external perception as a man ‘vain,
showey, ostentatious and not a little proud’ (Wilson 1988:
129-130). Wilson was one of several researchers who
amply demonstrated the potential for Australian historical
archaeology to offer interesting interpretive analyses of
excavated ceramics. In the previous year, Wilson
had also been the co-author of a brief guide to the
identification of nineteenth-century ceramic body types
published in the ASHA research bulletin (Thompson and
Wilson 1987). This guide was used as the typology for
the Regentville excavations, and while quite brief (fewer
than four pages) it makes up in accuracy what it lacks in
length.
Returning to the pages of the Australian Journal
of Historical Archaeology, Birmingham’s 1990 overview
of urban archaeology in Australia touches on many topics,
but particularly interesting and relevant to the present
volume is the section on the development of finds analysis
in Australian urban archaeology. The latter was important
for setting out – albeit without necessarily intending to
define – what have become some of the basic parameters
in the cataloguing and analysis of ceramics and other
artefact types in Australia. In Birmingham’s approach,
originally developed for the analysis of the Regentville
site, there was little sense of separate cataloguing and
analytical phases in artefact work: ‘The analytical stage
began as soon as the material was sorted, since the
variables selected for database entry determined the
parameters of any future analysis’ (Birmingham 1990:
19). Birmingham then went on to list the more complex
variables included in the original database:
Building materials and fittings were
categorised by social and stylistic aspects as
well as simply by material; tablewares by
functional and decorative categories,
together with pattern, set, object, and marks
information as appropriate; containers by
functional categories relevant to questions
of diet and life style… (Birmingham 1990:
19).
Not all analytical data was collated directly through the
database – ‘often information at a higher level of
individual complexity proved to be better handled
manually’ (Birmingham 1990: 19).
The inclusion of ‘complex variables’,
particularly functional categories, in a site’s basic artefact
catalogue has become a widespread practice in Australian
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
historical archaeology. Birmingham’s work differs from
much of the Australian research that immediately
followed in that she explicitly stated that the more
complex variables were chosen in order to study the
socio-cultural self-categorisation of the wealthy British
owner of the Regentville mansion. Birmingham had
specific, clearly-stated reasons for pre-selecting certain
analytical categories in the database, and these reasons
were directly connected to the site’s research design. Her
categories were carefully grounded in both theory and
method. Unfortunately, in the period following
Birmingham’s Regentville research, Australian analysis
was rarely so explicit in its approach to databases, and
interpretive categories – particularly functional categories
– often appeared to be included in artefact catalogues
more out of habit than design.
That the transition between the 1980s and 1990s
was also a transitional period in the development of
Australian historical archaeology is perhaps best
evidenced by the fact that descriptive papers closer to
what we might consider the British tradition were
appearing at much the same time as Birmingham’s
carefully structured synthesis of method and theory, and
Bavin’s overt attempt to engage with American
approaches. While none of the journal examples from this
period are about ceramic vessels as such, typical examples
include Brassey’s (1991) survey of clay tobacco pipes
from a site in Auckland, New Zealand, and Stuart’s (1991)
examination of bottles from the wreck of the Loch Ard, off
coastal Victoria.
The early 1990s also saw the appearance of
Atkins’ 1991 Sydney University honours thesis ‘Not to be
Excelled for Elegance or Utility: A Study of the
Availability of Ceramics in Sydney 1803-1868’. This was
one of the first attempts to study the availability of British
ceramics in Sydney from an archaeological perspective.
Atkins’ thesis is largely based on a combination of Sydney
retailers’ advertisements and observations taken directly
from Miller’s work on the economic scaling of ceramics
(1991a; 1991b). While this combination of sources
occasionally leads to some apparent confusion over
terminology, for example with what Atkins terms
‘ironstone china wares’, ‘white granite wares’ and ‘pearl
white wares’ (Atkins 1991: 51-54), this honours thesis
deserves wider recognition for its attempt to examine
issues of availability and trade from a specifically
Australian perspective.
Birmingham’s two 1992 publications on
Wybalenna are among the high points in artefact analysis
in the ‘early’ development of Australian historical
archaeology. Excavated between 1969 and 1971,
Wybalenna (Flinders Island, TAS) was the site where the
remaining Tasmanian Aborigines were evacuated in 1832,
and where they lived until 1847 (when they were moved
back to Tasmania proper) under the ‘civilising’
supervision of the British (Birmingham 1992a: 30). The
main report contains not only an extensive discussion of
artefact types (Birmingham 1992b: 57-125), but also an
9
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
interpretive discussion that attempts to integrate the
artefact, structural, and documentary evidence into a
coherent whole in order to study the interactions of
Aboriginal and British worldviews at this deeply emotive
site (Birmingham 1992b: 175-196). A related brief journal
article (Birmingham 1992a) concentrated more
specifically on the challenges of doing artefact analysis on
a site that had significantly fewer artefacts to examine than
the average urban site. The Wybalenna publications also
include a study of the horizontal spatial distributions of the
artefacts (Birmingham 1992a: 34-35; 1992b: 94-95).
While Birmingham was reaching towards an
important synthesis of archaeological approaches within a
specifically Australian context, her work represents a
temporary dead end. While recent events indicate that this
type of approach is now reaching a broader audience, the
Wybalenna report’s integration of artefacts into site
interpretation was not widely followed up. Lawrence
would later cite Wybalenna as one of a small number of
earlier Australian reports that had attempted to offer an in-
depth artefact analysis, but equally drew attention to the
fact that these reports were a minority of the whole
(Lawrence 1998: 13). Ultimately, despite the undoubted
importance of both site and report, Wybalenna represents
an Australian paradox: its attempt to include artefacts in
interpretation was a significant and important contribution
to Australian research, but its lack of engagement with
specialised knowledge on artefact identification is not
untypical of Australian historical archaeology of the
period. That artefact analysis was undervalued in
Australia in the past is perhaps best demonstrated by
Connah’s summation of Australian historical archaeology
up to the late 1980s (Connah 1988). In the course of 176
pages, the standard reference guide to the subject
exhaustively discusses structures, industry and landscape –
but with barely a mention of artefacts.
Lydon’s 1993 summation of archaeology in the
Rocks, Sydney, does contain a brief discussion of the
social implications of artefacts, particularly English Spode
pottery (Lydon 1993a: 35-36), but a lack of specific
accompanying data restricts the usefulness of the
discussion for comparative purposes. Lydon’s paper is
nonetheless of considerable interest simply for addressing
the issue in the first place – especially as regards her highly
accurate questioning of the high status assumptions often
attributed to Spode in Australia (Lydon 1993a: 36) – and
for openly engaging with more theoretical American
approaches, such as those of Deagan (1988), Little (1994),
and Leone (1989). Lydon also published a brief paper on
‘sewing as material culture’ in 1993. While based on
sewing items rather than ceramics, this paper did use
material culture in order to study archaeological
conceptions of femininity (Lydon 1993b).
As this historiography amply demonstrates,
important material culture work had indeed taken place in
Australia prior to the late 1990s, but the period from 1998
on marks the beginning of a more widespread
acknowledgement of the role of artefacts in site
10
interpretation. Lawrence’s 1998 paper on ‘the role of
material culture in Australasian historical archaeology’ is a
particularly important landmark in contemporary
Australian artefact studies. On one level, it is a lament for
the problematic state of many past studies, but it also
marks an important attempt to actually encourage
improvement. It also uses ceramics as the core of its
practical example. Lawrence’s arguments about the
condition of artefact analysis in Australia have already
been cited in this chapter’s own discussion of the topic,
and need not be repeated here. Of more direct interest is
her general approach to artefact studies and her specific
example of ceramics from a Tasmanian whaling station.
Lawrence saw artefact studies as being broadly divided
into three groups: the empirical, dealing with the
description and cataloguing of artefacts; the ethnographic,
dealing with how the artefacts were used; and the
cognitive, dealing with the ‘codes of meaning that must be
mastered by those who use it, and which facilitates
communication at a symbolic level by those who
understand the language’ (Lawrence 1998: 8). While there
was no explicit link, this division has obvious similarities
to the tripartite approaches of Deetz, Binford, and
Gaimster mentioned earlier in this chapter.
Lawrence offered a practical example of her call
for a greater emphasis on artefacts through an examination
of how context and cognition informed the analysis of
artefacts from a whaling station at Adventure Bay, Bruny
Island, Tasmania. The ceramics were particularly
important to Lawrence’s discussion. She argued that the
presence of commonly available refined tablewares and
teawares at the remote whaling station was part of the
negotiation of masculine identities in an all-male
environment. These ‘fashionable’ wares ‘helped to affirm
the headsman’s continued allegiance to the beliefs and
values of the middle class’ during a period when there ‘was
a tension … between masculine ideology which celebrated
adventure, male companionship, and fast living, and those
which espoused settled life and domestic responsibility’
(Lawrence 1998: 13). Though perhaps slightly too much
emphasis is placed on the occurrence of these ware types
as opposed to their relative quantities compared to other
Australian sites, this was undoubtedly a vitally significant
paper. Its importance as an explicit call to arms for
Australian historical archaeology is hard to underestimate.
And from a purely analytical perspective, it was also one
of the very few gender studies in historical archaeology
anywhere in the world to look at masculine rather than
feminine identity.
That 1998 was an important year in Australian
artefact studies can be seen in other publications. In the
same volume of Australasian Historical Archaeology,
Allison demonstrated the extent to which analytical
models in Australia were in flux by using classical
archaeology examples from Pompeii in her discussion of
‘The Household in Historical Archaeology’. However, her
recognition that households ‘not only live in, but also use
material culture’ (Allison 1998: 26) serves as a useful
adjunct to Lawrence’s more extensive work in that regard.

Carney’s study of glass from a Parramatta (NSW) cordial
factory may not have been ceramic-based, but it clearly
demonstrated the dangers of an over-reliance on the
functional categories that had become common in some
quarters of Australian historical archaeology. The
original function-based analysis of the site bottles had
identified the assemblage with a local hotel, but
subsequent re-analysis of both the bottle technology and
the site stratigraphy demonstrated that the bottles were
actually related to a cordial factory (Carney 1998).
Finally, Staniforth and Nash’s work on Chinese export
porcelain from a late eighteenth-century ship wreck may
not have been on British ceramics, but it featured an
important discussion of trade supply networks in the
colonial period (Staniforth and Nash 1998).
Also in 1998, Lydon returned to the issues of the
material culture of the Rocks, Sydney, and gender that she
had previously explored in 1993, this time with a paper on
a pre-1865 boarding house privy assemblage. British
ceramics were only one of the artefact types mentioned by
Lydon, but they form a central part of her discussion of
interaction of the interdependent male and female spheres
in the Rocks. This is particularly true of her use of plates,
cups, and saucers to demonstrate how domesticity and
respectability were constructed by the boarding house
owner (Lydon 1998: 143).
The explosion of academic artefact studies
continued apace. Casey’s survey of local Australian
pottery in Sydney (Casey 1999) is another important
landmark. The importance of the paper lies in its
extensive discussion of colonial Sydney pottery
manufacture (Casey 1999: 4-10), and its attempt to
provide form and ware typologies for locally made
materials (Casey 1999: 16-23). This is precisely the sort
of descriptive study of material culture in a specifically
Australian context that had been so lacking in the
discipline (eg. Lawrence 1998: 9). Casey’s paper uses
functional descriptions extensively, but the author herself
admits to reservations about following through the
implications of some traditional functional categories in
an Australian context (Casey 1999: 14, 25). While some
more discussion of the potential role of polyfunctionality,
and a more explicit discussion of the theoretical and
methodological foundations of the functional categories,
might have added to the paper’s existing strengths,
Casey’s paper marks a noteworthy attempt to combine the
descriptive and analytical traditions.
Other papers of relevance from 1999 include
Gojak and Stuart’s discussion of the potential of clay
pipes for archaeological analysis, and Lindbergh’s
discussion of clothing buttons. Gojak and Stuart’s study
is primarily of interest to this book for its consideration of
the impact of local preferences on colonial markets and
trade and consumption – points yet to be studied
extensively with regard to British ceramics in Australia
(Gojak and Stuart 1999: 43). The discussion of Irish-
specific marketing of pipes in Australia, while brief, is
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
also one of the rare attempts to look at non-Chinese ethnic
identity in Australian material culture. Lindbergh’s paper
was largely an attempt to provide a basis for the
description and cataloguing of clothing buttons, but her
concluding discussion features analysis with some
obvious parallels to ceramics studies, notably in the
connection between ‘fancy’ buttons and conceptions of
gentility (Lindbergh 1999: 56).
While this historiography – for reasons noted
earlier – has tended to focus on academic publications
over consultant reports, Graham Wilson’s 1999 report on
the ceramics from the Wapping site (Hobart, TAS) is
worth bringing to attention here. Over the years, Wilson
has produced some of the more consistently reliable
catalogues of British ceramics in Australian historical
archaeology. The Wapping report is particularly
important for the extent to which it recognises that the
unique nature of the Australian archaeological record
means that many international analytical techniques can
be inappropriate in an Australian context. Indeed, the
discussions in the report may initially seem somewhat
cursory until it is realised the extent to which Wilson
challenges many of the precepts of ceramics analysis
common in older Australian reports. To take but one
example, Wilson explicitly states that he is extremely
reluctant to ascribe any particular status associations with
the presence of transfer-printed pottery in a working class
district because A) by the end of the nineteenth-century
transfer prints are far more common and affordable than
at the beginning of the century, and B) it cannot be
assumed that the American work on which Australian
pottery status-associations are implicitly based are
directly applicable in Australia (Wilson 1999a – no page
numbers are present in the copy of the Wapping report
consulted, but the relevant section is 8.0).
Wilson also made an important contribution to
what is perhaps the most prominent Australian
consultancy report of recent years: The
Cumberland/Gloucester street (Sydney) report of Sydney
based consultancy firm Godden Mackay Logan. While
Wilson’s terminology for Cumberland/Gloucester
occasionally differs from that used in this book, this is
usually a matter of minor semantic preferences rather than
actual differences in identification. Wilsons’ discussions
of shifts from the use of Chinese to British ceramics in
early Sydney, the implications of the relative quantities of
plates and bowls for local diet, and the presence of large
quantities of pottery from Spode and successor firms
(Wilson 1999b: 312-314) all have important implications
for broader analysis within Australia, though his
conclusions on the Chinese to British shift have not been
universally accepted (Mary Casey pers. comm. 07/2004).
It is perhaps unfortunate that Wilson never really engages
with the important Minimum Vessel Count (MVC)
method of ceramics quantification, but his actual ceramics
identifications are some of the most reliable in Australia.
11
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
While the reports cited here are more recent, the
work of Sydney-based consultancy firm Casey and Lowe
should also be mentioned at this point. In that they are far
more interpretive and analytical, to a certain extent Casey
and Lowe reports such as the CSR, Pyrmont report (2000)
and the Conservatorium, Sydney report (2002) represent
the opposite of Wilson’s work. While the ceramics
catalogues in the Casey and Lowe reports cited here
sometimes use terms (such as ‘white glaze ware’ and
‘linear ware’) not in common use internationally, their
engagement with such methodological techniques as
minimum vessel counts, their consistent inclusion of
material culture in site interpretation, and their in-depth
engagement with broader theoretical and methodological
issues mark them out as one of the most consistently
important bodies of material culture analysis in the
Australian grey literature.
Returning to chronological order, the year 1999
also saw the publication of Lydon’s Many Inventions; The
Chinese in the Rocks, 1890-1930. This book offered a
landmark example of how Australian historical
archaeology could fully integrate the documentary,
artefactual, and other material evidence into a coherent
whole. Lydon’s work is in essence a study of the
formation of a new syncretic, or ‘pidgin’ culture amongst
the Chinese community in the Rocks, Sydney.
Discussions of British pottery in Many Inventions are not
prominent – hardly a surprise given the focus on a Chinese
community. Nonetheless, ceramics do occasionally
feature amongst the wider discussion, for example in
denoting conceptions of respectability for an Anglo
boarding house owner (Lydon 1999: 48-49). Lydon’s
book stands as an excellent and important Australian
example of how ‘the material world is integral to the
complex process of cultural transformation’ (Lydon 1999:
175).
Lawrence’s Dolly’s Creek; An Archaeology of a
Victorian Goldfields Community (2000) followed rapidly
on the heels of Many Inventions. Here the emphasis is on
a mostly (but not exclusively) Euro-Australian post-1860
gold digging community in Victoria, and like Lydon’s
book it stands as an important example of how all of the
evidence – both material and documentary – can be
integrated holistically. The sparse, but widely distributed,
British ceramics at Dolly’s Creek are fully integrated into
the extensive artefact analysis. In what was rapidly
becoming an important recurring theme in Australian
historical archaeology, the ceramics were interpreted as
indicators of respectability, gentility, and the search for
social order in a frontier society (Lawrence 2000: 130-
134). The British ceramics are hardly alone in Lawrence’s
analysis, and glass, clothing, clocks – even wallpaper –
form part of her careful examination of everyday life.
Lawrence then returned her attention to Tasmania
with a paper on ‘Foodways on Two Colonial Whaling
Stations’ (Lawrence 2001), once again demonstrating how
all of the evidence could be integrated into a single
analytic whole. Here, ceramics formed a central part of
12
Lawrence’s attempt to gain a greater ‘understanding of
food in colonial Australia by analysing documentary and
archaeological evidence of diet’ at two Tasmanian whaling
sites at Adventure Bay on Bruny Island, and Lagoon Bay
on the Forestier Peninsula (Lawrence 2000: 209). In this
analysis, stoneware jars were associated with pickles,
whereas teacups and teapots were tied to documentary
evidence of rationed tea allowances (Lawrence 2000:
218). Interpretation then examined how the lack of certain
vessel forms – namely bowls – indicated that it was
unlikely that whaling crews were eating soups. However,
while all of the crew, whether senior headsman or ordinary
crewmember, had access to ceramic plates, Lawrence
believed that the more expensive and up-to-date materials
were associated with the headsman. Lawrence
persuasively argued that this evidence reflected the
‘embodiment of social goods’ – the managers ate
separately from the crews at more fashionably set tables in
private quarters; at least partially meritocratic status
differences could thus be reinforced through material
culture even though everyone at the whaling stations ate
the same diet.
Back within the pages of Australasian Historical
Archaeology, 2000 was a lean year for artefact studies
after the relative flood of the late 1990s. Crook’s paper on
shopping and consumption (Crook 2000) is of note, if only
for being one of the few explicit attempts in the Australian
literature to deal with this important topic. British
transfer-printed ceramics form an important part of
Crook’s discussion, particularly as regards the purchasing
power of the less affluent. For example, consideration is
given to how the presence of mismatched ceramics within
an assemblage might be the feature of both the limited
purchasing power of the urban poor and the product of
‘market-bazaar’ or second-hand trading (Crook 2000: 23-
24). Yet as useful as Crook’s study undoubtedly is, it also
marks a potentially problematic trend in Australian
historical archaeology: the tendency to extensively adopt
American analytical models for Australian research. Most
of Crook’s specifically archaeological models are taken
from the American literature (eg Beaudry et al 1991; Cook
et al 1996; Henry 1991; Martin 1996; Spencer-Wood
1987). It must be openly acknowledged that the
Americans have simply undertaken far more of this
analysis than any other historical archaeologists, and that
their literature is understandably therefore more widely
available, but there are nonetheless important British
studies of material culture and consumerism (eg Weatherill
1996) that would surely have provided valuable context to
the study of this topic in a British colony. The issue must
also be raised of to what extent Australian historical
archaeology should develop its own approaches. As will
be discussed later in this book, heavy reliance on North
American (and indeed other outside) models has the
potential to unbalance our understanding of Australia’s
past as a unique place nonetheless located within the wider
British Empire.
The special 2001 edition of Australasian
Historical Archaeology on the ‘Archaeology of

Confinement’ contained a couple of papers of direct
interest to the present chapter. Casella’s analysis of the
archaeological collection (including the ceramics) from
the mid-nineteenth century Ross Factory female-convict
prison site in rural Tasmania represents one of the most
ambitious attempts at functional analysis in the entire
Australian canon. All of the artefacts from three subsites
are classified and discussed according to the following
categories: ‘adornment’, ‘agricultural’, ‘clothing’,
‘domestic’, ‘ecofact’, ‘fuel’, ‘indulgence’, ‘literacy’,
‘miscellaneous’, ‘monetary’, ‘social control’, and
‘structural’ (Casella 2001: 27-35). Casella’s paper is
important for attempting to adapt functional categories
developed by Adrian and Mary Praetzellis for urban
archaeology in Sacramento, California, ‘to address
institutional and Australian social contexts’ (Casella 2001:
27) – though some broader discussion of the specifics of
functional category construction would have enhanced the
argument. But while Casella’s discussion offers an
important example of how international systems can be
adapted to Australian analysis, more problematic is the
statement (Casella 2001: 27) that artefact identification
was based on the previously mentioned flawed fabric key
from the Port Arthur Archaeological Procedures Manual
(Davies and Buckley 1987: 184-189). This raises the
possibility that the data underlying the functional
categories do not support the broader analysis.
Starr’s discussion of the artefacts from the Civil
Hospital privy on Norfolk Island in the same 2001 issue
features a very different approach than that used by
Casella. Instead of focussing on rigid functional
categories, Starr used a looser (though still function-
based) analytical model. Discussions on the artefacts from
the hospital privy helped her to understand how the
convicts were controlled, treated, and cared for during
their confinement, and how the convicts interacted with
and resisted their environment. Using the example most
relevant to the present book, saltglazed stoneware
medicine bowls – some of them made by the Staffordshire
firm of Copeland and Garrett – could have been used for
both dispensing medicines and for bloodletting. Starr
used these medical items to provide an insight into both
the rudimentary medicines and treatments available to the
convicts and their generally poor state of health (Starr
2001: 43).
The year 2001 also marked the centenary of
Australian Federation, and Australians at Federation, An
Illustrated Chronicle (Cremin 2000) was a popular-
literature coffee table book on everyday life at the time of
Federation in 1901, notable for being largely written by
historical archaeologists. None of the chapters in the
book are necessarily academic – nor were they intended to
be so – but sections of interest as regards ceramics and
other artefact analysis include the discussions of
excavations at Moran’s Farm, Melrose, SA and Point
King Lighthouse, Albany, WA (Cremin 2000: 5-7, 9).
Both cases amply illustrate how artefact analysis –
including British ceramics – can be integrated into a more
popular interpretation. Also of note is a discussion of
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
British-made commemorative tableware produced to
celebrate Federation (Cremin 2000: 116-117). This is one
of the few studies in the Australian literature to examine
the symbolism – in this case the Imperial symbolism – of
British ceramic decorations from an Australian
perspective, a discussion which is also extended to
contemporaneous commemorative medals (Cremin 2000:
118-119).
The twentieth anniversary edition of
Australasian Historical Archaeology was one of the most
artefact-centred in the history of the journal. Crook,
Lawrence and Gibbs’ paper on the role of artefact
catalogues in Australian historical archaeology (Crook et
al 2002) was arguably one of the most important artefact
papers in the discipline since Lawrence’s 1998 study on
the role of artefact analysis. Crook, Lawrence and Gibbs’
paper will form an important part of the discussion of
cataloguing in Chapter 3 of the present volume, so only
the briefest summary need be provided here. In essence,
the authors cogently summarised the serious problems
that existed within some Australian artefact work, offered
a theoretical framework for identifying the purpose of a
catalogue, provided some suggestions on how to actually
use an artefact catalogue, and finally set forth a
framework for how to move cataloguing forward. Many
of the authors’ observations were highly critical; typical of
these is the observation that ‘…far too many catalogues
are still being produced by people with little or no
familiarity with historic artefacts. The inevitable result is
catalogues that are inaccurate and inconsistent’ (Crook et
al 2002: 28). While such remarks are no doubt robust, the
arguments in the paper are such that they cannot be held
to be entirely unjustified.
A 2002 AHA paper on the international
comparative analysis of eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century ceramics (Brooks 2002) was the most extensive
discussion of British ceramics yet to feature in the journal.
Most of the discussion, however, was based on sites in
Britain and the USA rather than Australia. Many of the
paper’s points were nonetheless explicitly developed in
order to provide context for Australian analysis. By
comparing British and North American assemblages, it
was demonstrated that international analysis can
sometimes lead to new conclusions – a point with
important potential implications for Australia. For
example, past American work had often assumed the
premise that differences between African-American and
poor white-associated assemblages were based on the
former differentiating themselves from the latter. In
international context, however, it seemed that in fact
African-Americans were closer to the ‘norm’, and that the
poor whites were the ones who were ‘different’ (Brooks
2002: 55). The paper also questioned the extent to which
Australian and British historical archaeologists should
rely on North American analytical models developed for
specifically American contexts (Brooks 2002: 56).
The 2002 edition of the journal also served to
demonstrate that the integration of artefacts into broader
13
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

site discussion was finally becoming more common.
Davies’ study of the early twentieth century Henry’s No.1
Mill logging camp in the Otway Ranges (southwest
Victoria) contained an extensive discussion of the artefacts
within themes of ‘food and drink’, ‘reuse and recycling’,
and ‘isolation and integration’ (Davies 2002: 62-65). As a
post-Federation site dating from 1904 to 1928, Henry’s
Mill lies outside the chronological scope of this book, but
it is worth noting that British ceramics were an integral
part of Davies’ analysis. Though it is perhaps to be
regretted that the 161 ceramic vessels are listed solely by
form, with no information on ware type or decoration,
these data are available in the doctoral thesis (Davies
2001) on which the journal paper is based. It is also worth
mentioning in passing Harrison’s paper on metal artefacts
from post-contact Aboriginal sites in the Kimberly, WA
(Harrison 2002). There can be little doubt that the
ideological interaction of post-contact indigenous
communities with European material culture is an area of
Australian historical archaeology that offers potentially
exciting avenues of research for the future.
Australian historical archaeology within the context of the
British Empire (Lawrence 2003). Karskens’ study of
convict households in the Rocks, Sydney features an
extensive material culture section, including a discussion
of how British ceramics contribute to our understanding of
the local diet (Karskens 2003: 48-50). Similarly, ceramics
form part of the extensive material culture discussion in
Murray and Mayne’s study on Melbourne’s Little Lon
district (Murray and Mayne 2003). Finally, Staniforth’s
paper on annales-informed approaches to Australian
colonial archaeology contains a brief discussion of what
teawares might tell us about consumerism and capitalism
in colonial Australia (Staniforth 2003a: 109). If perhaps
an outside observer would be forced to admit that material
culture identification and analysis in Australian historical
archaeology does not yet feature the breadth of its northern
hemisphere counterparts, ‘Recent Work…’
comprehensively demonstrates that there is equally every
sign that the local discipline has made tremendous strides
in the last few years.

Erskine’s 2003 book Kingston Ceramics; A

Dictionary of Ceramic Wares in the Norfolk Island
Museum was a significant archaeology-based overview of
a specific type of British ceramics found in Australia,
namely transfer-printed vessels. While there are some
minor problems of attribution (see Appendix C), Erskine’s
book provides an excellent catalogue of nearly 100 pages
worth of transfer prints, many of which are common
across eastern Australia. While it is an extremely valuable
resource for pattern identification, researchers using the
book should remember that the dates Erskine provides are
usually taken from the mark on the specific example
illustrated; they are therefore only relevant to that
example, and should not be used for unmarked examples
possibly made by another manufacturer. Potentially far
more problematic is Erskine’s use in the introductory
discussion of incorrect or misleading terminology for non-
printed materials, such as ‘feather-edge’ (instead of shell
edge) and ‘ironstone’ (Erskine 2003: 7-13 – see Chapter 4
of this volume for a full discussion of these terms). These
issues of terminology do not, however, detract from the
volume’s overall value as a guide to printed patterns.

A recent thematic issue of the SHA’s journal

Historical Archaeology, ‘Recent Work in Historical
Archaeology in Australia and New Zealand’ (Lawrence
and Karskens 2003), served to demonstrate how far
Australian historical archaeology has come in artefact
analysis in recent years since the first tentative
publications collected in Papers in Australian Historical
Archaeology (Birmingham and Bairstow 1987). One of
the most important accomplishments of ‘Recent Work…’
lies in its discussions not only of what makes Australia
distinctive in its material culture compared to North
America, but also the extent to which Australian material
culture is firmly within the British Imperial sphere
(Lawrence 2003; Ritchie 2003). Lawrence offers a
particularly detailed study of how British ceramics in
Australia demonstrate the importance of studying

14

Chapter 2:
A Model for Ceramics Analysis
Some of the potentially more interesting aspects of the
preceding review of past research are the theoretical
implications for interactions among historical
archaeologists in Australia, the United Kingdom, and
North America. If North American archaeology has
tended towards an objective-realist worldview (as
evidenced by processualism) due to its roots in an
anthropological study of prehistory, then British
archaeology has tended towards a more subjective-idealist
(post-processualist) worldview due to its more diffused
multi-period roots. Australia is still torn between worlds.
Australian historical archaeology has been influenced by
both Britain and North America, a situation which has
produced both challenges and opportunities.
As the first chapter demonstrated, ceramics
analysis in historical archaeology has indeed developed
extensive and useful systems that aim to understand the
ceramics record through quantification. Yet an occasional
over-reliance on the quantification of data has arguably
sometimes had a negative effect on North American
reports, some of which appear to believe that the mere
existence of spreadsheets and bar charts somehow imparts
scientific respectability to a document. British post-
medievalism, on the other hand, remains largely
atheoretical. To the extent that the objective worldview
had an impact on British ceramics analysis as a whole, it
was in enabling British archaeology to describe (rather
than ‘understand’) the ceramics record. Recent
developments (particularly the work of Gaimster and
Matthews) do suggest that a more theory-informed
perspective is taking root in the UK, but post-medieval
ceramics analysis is still typified by the description and
development of typologies. Australian researchers
meanwhile – as discussed by Crook, Lawrence and Gibbs
(2002: 28) – increasingly acknowledge the idea that
American-style analysis is worthwhile, but have perhaps
not been as strong on the specifics of identification and
description. There also remains the issue of the extent to
which American-style analytical methods should be
adapted, rather than uncritically applied to local data.
Within this context, this book advances the
proposal that the development of industrial-era ceramics
analysis internationally requires a model that can help to
structure and contextualise a wide panoply of inter-
linking approaches. Such a model should be designed so
as to encourage those practitioners focused on artefact
identification to turn to analysis, and those practitioners
focused on analysis to turn to identification, while
providing a model of good practice for those focused on
neither.
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
A CRITIQUE OF A TRADITIONAL ANALYTICAL
MODEL
Before proposing the model, it is necessary to offer a
critique of a traditional conceptual framework often used
in British ceramics analysis, and extensively discussed by
Orton, Tyers, and Vince (1993: 23-30). Within this
model, ceramics have traditionally been used to study
three main areas in archaeological analysis. These are
dating, trade, and the single combination of function and
status (Orton et al. 1993: 23-30). A model which is this
broad and general can be made to fit most needs, but it is
arguably inadequate for sites postdating the industrial
revolution given the specific methodological issues
arising from the study of the ceramics of the industrial
period. Furthermore, this model arguably constrains
wider interpretive analysis through its narrow focus on
three subjects.
Each aspect of the traditional ‘big three’ will be
discussed here in turn before an alternative is offered. The
first category is dating. There is no real need to analyse
this category in detail. The usefulness of ceramics to
dating is, and will remain, central to ceramics analysis.
Said usefulness is in fact arguably enhanced in historical
archaeology due to the tight dates that can be ascribed to
wares through the documentary record and through
makers’ and registration marks (the prints and
impressions that a pottery firm places on the bottom of a
vessel to identify its own work). For example, the Spode
firm (whose materials are common in many Australian
contexts) operated from c.1784 to 1833 (Godden 1991:
589). Spode was succeeded by Copeland and Garrett,
which operated between 1833 and 1847 (Godden 1991:
173), and then by Copeland from 1847 through to the
twentieth century (Godden 1991: 171 – perhaps ironically,
the factory now once again operates under the Spode
name). By cross-referencing marked pieces from these
three sequential firms with decorative styles, it is often
possible to date individual pieces even more closely – and
Spode is by no means unusual in this regard. This is in
obvious contrast to earlier archaeological periods, where
such tight dating is at best unusual.
The next traditional area is trade. This is a more
involved issue that contains several different elements,
one of which is identifying the point of origin in order to
identify trade routes and markets. While still important to
colonial Australia, trade tends to be of more relevance to
the historical archaeologist on the macro-level rather than
the individual site level, though Chapter 5 will highlight
some important exceptions. The domination of ceramics
production by a few British manufacturing centres
(particularly Staffordshire); the standardisation of ceramic
bodies, glazes, and decoration; the proliferation of
makers’ marks; and perhaps most importantly, the
improvement of global, national, and local transport and
trade links means that identifying point of origin is both
15
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
considerably easier but yet somehow less central to our
understanding of the past than for earlier periods. Mass-
produced British vessels are likely to be found in large
quantities on archaeological sites around the world, such
as Australia, the Outer Hebrides (Foster 1995), Cape Town
(Klose and Malan 1993; 2000), British Columbia
(Sussman 1979), and the Mediterranean coast of France
(Amouric et al 1999) – and are also likely to turn up in
more out-of-the-way locations such as the Falkland Islands
(Barker 1996) and Iceland (Sveinbjarnardóttir 1996).
But so far this has been a largely methodological
discussion. ‘Trade’ also implicitly includes a
consideration of wider economic issues. Given the
complexity of industrial economies, trade cannot be
examined through an economic lens alone. In addition to
economy, issues of consumer choice, social interaction,
and status are all part of the study of consumption in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries (eg. Buckham 1999;
Crook 2000) As such ‘trade’ is an inadequate category
through which to fully examine the full inter-linked issues
of social economy and consumption so important to an
analysis of the material culture of the more recent past.
Finally, there is the joint category of status and
function. Instead of a single category, these should be seen
as separate, though inevitably interrelated, issues. In
Pottery in Archaeology, Orton, Tyers, and Vince (1993:
28) state that these categories are the ‘most neglected’.
While this may well be true for archaeological ceramics
analysis as a whole, both of these categories have a strong
tradition in the literature of historical archaeology.
Questions of function are extremely important to historic
and post-medieval ceramics analysis (eg Allen 1991;
Birmingham 1990; Thompson and Cornet 1987). Orton,
Tyers, and Vince (1993: 29) refer to status as ‘even less
accessible than function’ (1993: 29). While this might be
true to a certain extent, status has nonetheless frequently
been central to ceramics analysis in historical archaeology,
as was amply demonstrated in Chapter 1. In an American
context, this has been particularly true in studies of
assemblages associated with enslaved African-Americans
(eg Adams and Boling 1991; Ferguson 1992; Heath 1991;
Otto 1980).
This is not to claim that the importance of
function and status vary across periods, but rather that they
are more accessible to archaeologists studying the more
recent past. Not absolutely and constantly accessible –
simply more accessible. The greater level of available
documentation generally available for recent periods is
one reason for this accessibility. Another reason is the
extent to which ideologies and meanings from the recent
past resonate with or are still influential in the present –
though it would be dangerous to assume that this means
that these ideologies and meanings are identical to the
present. Perhaps these points seem self-evident, but there
are wider implications. For example, the economic
element of status can be deduced – at least to a small
degree – by examining manufacturer’s price lists (Ewins
1997; G. Miller 1991a; 1991b), whereas parts of the social
16
elements of status can be studied through the greater
visibility of social hierarchies, structures, and etiquette, all
of which were rigidly documented in the nineteenth
century (Pool 1993: 33-58) – though perhaps not always
quite so rigidly followed in practice. Furthermore, while
eighteenth and nineteenth century society and culture were
by no means identical to the today, major elements of
function and meaning from these centuries remain current
today. For example, while typologies of seventeenth-
century vessel forms appear to contain many items with
little relevance or meaning to the modern household, such
as caudle pots, sillabub pots, chafing dishes, and betty
lamps (eg. Beaudry et al. 1991), Scott’s analysis of vessel
form and function based on eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century cookbooks (Scott 1997) is made all the easier by
the use of terminologies that are still current, even where
actual function differed. The wealth and complexity of the
available data thus gives the archaeologist studying the
more recent past opportunities to examine a wider and
more detailed arena of information than is suggested by
the traditional British model of ‘dating-trade-
function/status’. While issues of dating, trade and
function/status have also been prominent issues in the
North American and Australian literature, there remains a
need for a theory-informed model broadly applicable to
research internationally while also taking into
consideration those issues that make the study of ceramics
from the industrial period unique; this would also
potentially be of tremendous benefit in contextualising
shared research.
THE NEW MODEL
With these various issues and agendas in mind, this chapter
now sets forth a ceramics analysis model that replaces the
traditional date, trade, and function-status model with the
dual-level structure of ‘identification’ and ‘analysis’ (table
2.1). This is not a total rejection of the ‘big three’ as much
as it is an adaptation. Indeed, part of the strength of this
LEVEL 2 – ANALYSIS
ECONOMY – STATUS – FUNCTION – MEANING
LEVEL 1 – IDENTIFICATION
WARE – FORM – DECORATION – DATE
Table 2.1: The Ceramics Analysis Model

model is not that it attempts to say anything intrinsically
new, but rather that it enables the historical ceramic
researcher to pull together existing theoretical and
methodological threads into a single coherent structure.
Within this structure, it is important to acknowledge that
ceramics identification and analysis is not the absolute
objective practice that many practitioners implicitly
assume that it is, but is instead subjective at all levels,
though to varying degrees and for very different reasons.
At the ‘identification’ level are those characteristics with
which a fragment of pottery is inherently imbued, and
which exist objectively outside analysis. In other words,
all researchers agree that ceramics are made of something
(ware), have a certain shape (form), and have a certain
external appearance (decoration) even if they disagree on
how to define those categories. Thus here, subjectivity is
largely a matter of defining boundaries and terminology.
To take a particularly problematic example, Miller has
noted that the transition from creamware and pearlware to
whiteware c.1820-1830 was a gradual process (Miller
1991a). As a result, identification of transitional wares
from this period can be highly subjective, and five
different ceramicists might well produce five different
vessel counts even though they might all agree that
creamware, pearlware and whiteware are present in an
assemblage. Vessel form and decoration identification
can also present problems, for example when attempting
to identify these categories from very small rim sherds.
The topics in the ‘analysis’ level of the model –
economy, status, function and meaning – which depend
on these basic building blocks of therefore inevitably rest
on at least slightly interpretive foundations as the
specifics of the ‘identification’ categories in any one
assemblage can be a matter of good faith disagreement
between informed researchers. Yet the higher levels of
analysis are nevertheless based on an entirely different
level of interpretation and subjectivity. Whereas for the
basic level interpretation rests in differences of defining
objective categories that exist outside social experience,
for the higher levels, interpretation is not only necessary,
but unavoidable. Thus while a ceramic vessel
intrinsically has a ware and form type (even if we are
sometimes unable to agree on the parameters of those
types), no ceramic vessel is automatically imbued with
function, status, or meaning. These are categories entirely
socially constructed by both the original user and the
analyst, and which have no real existence outside of those
constructions. While the terminology of identification
may well be socially constructed, the existence of the
relevant categories is not. In sum, while it can justifiably
be claimed that all analysis is subjective, it must also be
recognised that not all analysis is equally subjective or is
subjective for the same reasons. Those factors which
make basic identification subjective are entirely different
from those which make analysis subjective.
With this semantic (but nonetheless important)
discussion out of the way, attention can now turn to the
actual structure of the new model. Within the
‘identification’ category are ware, form, decoration, and
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
date. Ware refers to a vessel’s material, form refers to a
vessel’s shape, decoration refers to attributes added to
change a vessel’s external appearance, and date is when
the vessel was made. This is the most basic level of the
model. Without the basic building blocks of ware, form
and decoration, further analysis would be impossible.
These categories are much easier to identify post-1750
than for earlier periods due to the standardisation of types
stemming from industrialised mass-production, the level
of available documentation, and the sheer scale of
available comparable information from industrial kiln
sites. Date of manufacture is a slightly different category
– this is best conceived as a range rather than a specific
date. While all ceramics have a specific date of
manufacture, it is rarely possible to identify said date,
making it necessary to express date as a range from the
first possible date of manufacture to the last possible date.
Identifying a vessel’s date usually depends on identifying
one or more elements of ware, form and decoration, and
is thus arguably more interpretive than the other
categories under ‘identification’. But because a date of
manufacture is an intrinsic, objective element of a ware’s
existence, it has been included under ‘identification’
despite the fact that its definition is dependent on the other
categories. A full discussion of the different typologies of
ware, decoration, and form may be found in Chapter 4. A
ceramics date timeline for Australia may be found in
Appendix B.
Within the ‘analysis’ category are placed the
more interpretive – arguably the more difficult – issues of
economy, status, function and meaning. The use of these
issues in analysis is discussed in more detail in Chapter 5,
and only brief discussions and definitions will be offered
here. Economy will be discussed first. Considerable
work has been done on the economy of ceramics, of
which Miller’s examination of price lists to develop the
CC index (Miller 1991a; 1991b) is perhaps the best
known internationally. More recently, Ewins’ (1997) and
Gaimster’s (1997: 51-114) research has greatly
contributed to the understanding of the mechanics of the
international pottery trade on the macro-level. Australian
work has contributed both to our understanding of urban
consumption in Australia (Crook 2000), and Australia’s
role within broader trade networks, whether British
(Lawrence 2003) or Sino-British (Staniforth and Nash
1998). Yet if ‘economy’ appears to stand on documentary
foundations that are relatively firm, the interaction of
price and local economy with other interpretive issues
adds a welter of modifiers that demand more in-depth
interpretation. For example, it should not be
automatically assumed that there is a straightforward
relationship between vessel cost and local economy, nor
that the presence alone of relatively expensive vessels has
a direct and automatic impact upon other issues, such as
status. Archaeologists should always be aware of other
interpretive issues, particularly as regards consumer
choice (eg. Buckham 1999).
As with discussions of economy, documentary
evidence exists that can considerably aid the
17
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

archaeological interpretation of status-related issues.
Historical archaeologists have far more evidence to aid in
the understanding of the relationships between different
social groups than those working in earlier periods.
Lydon’s analysis of the Chinese community in the Rocks,
Sydney, for example, used oral history, written documents,
and archaeological data in order to contextualise the status
of the Chinese within the wider community (Lydon 1999).
Despite this greater accessibility of data compared to
earlier archaeological periods, interpretation is both
necessary and inevitable. While the economic aspect of
status may be partially reducible to statistical method, the
social aspect cannot be adequately quantified.
Function – how a vessel was actually used – may
initially seem to be a relatively straightforward category,
but here the archaeologist must be ready to consider the
differences between primary intended function, primary
intended use, and secondary use and function. For
example, the primary intended function of a plate at the
point of manufacture may be food consumption, but the
primary intended use of the same plate by the purchaser
may be to display it on a dresser. Nor can it be assumed
that the function of a vessel remains constant over time.
Australian reports and databases, however, often seem to
implicitly assume that function automatically follows
form. If one accepts that vessel function is more readily
accessible to those studying more recent periods, whether
through cookbooks (Scott 1997), catalogues (Bosomworth
1991), or simple familiarity with still-existing forms and
functions, then the inevitable corollary is that other
functions are also more readily identifiable. For example,
which vessels are used on an everyday basis, and which
are used for display? What significance might this
difference in function have? When ceramics reports are
dealing with issues of function, they should ideally contain
a careful consideration of these issues.
different issue (such as national or regional identity).
With the structures of the model in place, it is
important to set explicit parameters, both theoretical and
methodological, on how it is hoped this structure will be
used. From a methodological perspective, the model helps
the ceramicist to conceptualise the interactions and
relationships between different levels of analysis. It
further serves to strengthen method by explicitly listing
the major themes of interpretive ceramics analysis; the
researcher is thus forced to at least acknowledge these
issues. Although there will undoubtedly be cases where
the different categories of the interpretive level are not
equally applicable to the analysis of each assemblage, use
of the model will nonetheless strongly encourage the
researcher to consider each category carefully over the
course of an assemblage’s identification and analysis.
On the theoretical level, it is important to note
that the analytical categories of the model are intentionally
loosely defined. Each site is different and requires a
different interpretive focus; each analyst is different and
will bring their own different experiences and interests to
analysis. Because this variability must be acknowledged,
it would be overly limiting to propose a framework that
would restrict individuals to a single, rigid, doctrinaire
approach to analytical work. Instead, individuals are
encouraged to apply the model according to their own
different needs and requirements, to approach each
category afresh. Thus while this section has identified
economy, status, function, and meaning as major themes
in ceramics analysis, no attempt has been made to define
them too closely.

The final interpretive category is meaning, and

here this term specifically refers to the potential wider
ideological meaning not only of an assemblage, but also of
individual vessels. Within this context, ‘meaning’ can
encompass a whole range of socio-cultural issues, some
examples of which might include gender, ethnicity, and
the shifting perception of material culture between
Indigenous and Euro-Australians. Notwithstanding an
extensive literature on gender studies, this is the category
that arguably has the weakest tradition internationally, at
least as far as attempts to apply ideology to analysis on a
practical basis are concerned. Within the Australian
literature, Lawrence’s use of teawares to investigate issues
of masculinity at Tasmanian whaling stations (Lawrence
1998) demonstrates the potential importance of
considering this sort of issue. ‘Meaning’ is not only the
most undeniably subjective category in this model, but
also arguably the most difficult for archaeologists to
access. Different archaeologists will almost inevitably be
interested in different aspects of an assemblage’s or
vessel’s meaning, and the study of one ideological issue
(such as masculinity) does not preclude someone else
using the same assemblage or vessel to look at an entirely

18

Chapter 3:
Processing, Cataloguing, and Curation
This chapter will discuss the basics of processing
(washing and labelling), cataloguing and curation of
ceramics assemblages. The analysis and interpretation of
assemblages will be discussed in Chapter 5. Local policy
on artefact processing and curation will vary from state to
state, and this chapter should therefore only be considered
as a broad outline of basic good practice. In order to
minimise misunderstandings, it is imperative that staff
responsible for a site’s artefacts are aware of local state or
territory heritage office requirements (if any) before
undertaking a programme of processing and cataloguing.
This is particularly true for materials recovered from
marine or chemical-affected environments, where local
regulations may require specific treatment of the artefacts
in question. Where discrepancies exist between the
following chapter and local legal requirements,
practitioners should obviously favour the local
requirements. For example, the state of Victoria has an
extensive set of artefact management guidelines in place
(Heritage Victoria 2004); these place more emphasis on
the role of the professional conservator than the SHA
guidelines used in this chapter, and as a result also place
restrictions on the archaeologist’s role in certain areas of
processing. Indeed, it will often be advisable to at least
consult a professional conservator before engaging in
several of the processes in this chapter, particularly
cleaning and labelling.
Appendix D of this book features the ‘standards
and guidelines for the curation of archaeological
collections’ officially adopted in 1993 by the North
American-based Society for Historical Archaeology, and
still endorsed today (www.sha.org). These standards and
guidelines form the basis for much of the first half of the
present chapter, though here the focus is understandably
more on ceramics than in the SHA’s document. Neither
the SHA guidelines nor this chapter should be seen as an
idealised ‘perfect’ practice. The standards and guidelines
included here are both realistic and attainable and – where
local standards are not already in place – can easily be
implemented on a consistent basis with the appropriate
level of co-operation between practioners and the relevant
local authorities.
PROCESSING
Washing and Cleaning: as the SHA guidelines so
concisely state, ‘Cleaning is necessary for the accurate
identification and study of most artefact types’.
Furthermore, the labelling and mending of ceramics is
impossible unless the object has been cleaned. This is
therefore the first necessary step in ceramics processing.
Unlike many materials from earlier periods, most
British industrial-era ceramics can be safely cleaned by
the means of brushing with a damp toothbrush. Indeed,
most industrial-era ceramics can be safely soaked in water
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
during the cleaning process, though use of detergents
should be avoided at all costs. The two main exceptions
are objects with overglaze decorations (particularly gilt
and enamelled decorations), and tin-glazed vessels. For
overglaze decorations, care should be taken not to
accidentally harm the decoration while brushing a
fragment. Some overglaze decorations have faded
considerably by the time they reach the archaeology lab,
and may not be immediately visible to the cleaning staff.
Staff should be made aware of this issue, as cleaning may
cause further removal of the already faded decoration.
Tin-glazed wares are even more fragile. The fabric of
these materials is highly friable, and may be damaged by
soaking. The fabric may also be damaged by overly-
aggressive dry brushing. While tin glaze is extremely rare
in Australia, it should be treated carefully when it does
occur. Common sense is usually the best guide – and if
cleaning is causing damage to an artefact, it should be
stopped immediately.
Assuming that the ceramics have been washed in
water, they will then need to be dried. This is most easily
done by placing the artefacts on a drying rack, taking care
not to mix materials from different stratigraphic contexts.
Under no circumstances should ceramics (and this
includes brick and tobacco pipes) be re-bagged, labelled
or mended until they are completely dry. If materials are
bagged while still damp, they will turn mouldy, the labels
will fall off, and adhesives will not take. Unfortunately,
there is no hard and fast rule as to determining when a
piece of pottery is dry, although if a fragment feels cold to
the touch, chances are it is still damp.
It must be stressed that the integrity of the field
data should be maintained at all times. Bags of material
from different parts of the site should not be washed
simultaneously – coherent stratigraphy and cleaning
expediency rarely mix well. On the other hand, there is
no particular need to separate different material classes
from ceramics at this stage as long as all of the materials
are from the same context. However, there is also no
harm in this sort of separation, and it can certainly be done
through choice (and some artefact types will require
different cleaning procedures), but is by no means a
necessity at this early stage.
Labelling: this vitally important stage of artefact
processing is undoubtedly the most overlooked in
Australia. The SHA standards and guidelines state that
‘all diagnostic artifacts must be labelled whenever
physically possible. If not appropriate, the object must be
packaged in archivally stable materials, which are
permanently labelled.’ This includes each and every
fragment of ceramic (and bottle glass for that matter).
Nondiagnostic artefacts which do not require individual
labels are ‘slag, shell, fire cracked rocks, [lithic] flakes,
window glass, brick, mortar, plaster, and coal.’
19
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Labelling can be time-consuming, but its
importance is intimately tied into broader issues of
analysis and curation. When ceramics analysis takes
place, it is often necessary to join together fragments from
several different contexts. As this will usually entail
separating sherds initially bagged together, each fragment
must be labelled so that the information regarding its
stratigraphic context is retained. This is therefore vital for
any minimum vessel count (MVC; see ‘quantifying the
data’ later in this chapter), the essential building block of
broader analysis. As analysis (as opposed to cataloguing)
has traditionally not been central to Australian artefact
studies (Crook et al 2002: 28), the analytical justification
for labelling has frequently been lacking. Analysis,
however, is not the only reason why artefacts should be
labelled. Other reasons include maintaining the
stratigraphic integrity of pieces selected for exhibit
display, and putting in place an additional failsafe measure
in case of damage to exterior storage labels, including bags
and boxes.
The actual nature of the label placed on the side
of an artefact varies, but it should at the very least permit
the recovery of the basic original stratigraphic data. For
example, a typical code at Poplar Forest (a historic house
museum in Virginia based at the retreat home of Thomas
Jefferson) would be ‘PF-859D’, where PF refers to the
site, 859 to the unit excavated, and D to the context within
that unit. In some rare cases, it may be necessary to
include additional information; a typical designation at the
suburban Melbourne Viewbank site would be ‘5859-
VB856’, where the first set of characters refers to the state
artefact computer database, and the second set to the
contextual data. For both logistical and practical reasons,
the amount of data recorded on a label should be kept to a
minimum; recording any more than 10 characters on a
fragment is generally impractical.
When deciding how to label a fragment, it is
important to keep in mind the principle of reversibility:
wherever possible, nothing should be done to an artefact
that cannot subsequently be undone. For example, do not
write directly on the side of a ceramic sherd in permanent
indelible ink. Usual best practice features the application
of a base coat, followed by the writing of the label,
followed by the application of a sealing top coat. Each
layer should be dry before the application of the next layer.
It is important to check with the local heritage office
beforehand to see if they mandate the materials that should
be used for the base and top coats. The use of ordinary
clear nail polish is common internationally, but this may
not be the preferred – or best – material everywhere; many
conservators prefer the use of a solution of acrylic B-72 in
acetone. Ordinary India ink (usually applied with a
calligraphy pen) remains the best material for writing the
actual label. Whether using nail polish or B-72, acetone
will remove the label should removal or reapplication be
necessary.
The best location to place a label depends on the
fragment in question. A few general rules of thumb exist:
20
the underside of a base is usually the best place for a label
unless a maker’s mark is present; otherwise, on flat
vessels, labels typically go on the reverse; on hollow
vessels, labels typically go on the interior; labelling over a
decoration should be avoided where possible. It is usually
preferable to place the label on the original exterior surface
rather than on a broken face; labels placed on a break will
prove to be frustrating if the sherds are later mended.
There will be exceptions to all of these principles – for
example, labelling the interior of a stoneware bottle will
prove to be extremely unhelpful if the bottle is ever fully
mended, leaving the labels subsequently invisible on the
bottle’s interior. And of course, some fragments will be
small enough that it will prove impossible to identify the
form, or which side is the interior or the exterior. Use
common sense.
CATALOGUING
The SHA curation standards and guidelines state that
‘Records, notes, reports, catalogs, related historical
documents, and photographs are integral components of an
archaeological collection. They must be submitted with
the artefacts for permanent curation. Much of the
subsequent segment in the standards and guidelines
pertains to site documentation, but there are two
paragraphs particularly relevant to the current discussion
(see section 4 of Appendix D for full quotes):
Catalog of the artefacts by provenience unit,
recognizing that there are different levels of
cataloguing. At a minimum, catalogs must
include an identification of the object,
material of manufacture, and quantification
(count and/or weight).
Description of the artifact according to the
best current levels of professional
knowledge is recommended where possible.
Notation regarding artifacts stored outside
of their provenience unit should be included.
In sum, a coherent artefact catalogue is a
necessity – not a luxury. Crook, Lawrence, and Gibb’s
(2002) discussion of the ‘role of artefact catalogues in
Australian historical archaeology’ made a distinction
between cataloguing and analysis well worth reiterating
here: ‘Cataloguing is the identification and recording of
the artefacts’ attributes, the raw data about the assemblage.
Analysis constitutes the synthesis and ordering of the raw
artefact data’ (Crook et al 2002: 26) so that interpretation
of that raw data can take place. Ideally, analysis follows
on from the completion of the catalogue, but if not, the
catalogue should enable analysis to be undertaken later.
These days, a broad variety of computer software
appropriate for cataloguing exists, and the selection of an
appropriate package is largely a matter of taste. Choosing
which categories to include in the database is a far more
important issue. A ceramics catalogue should contain at
the very least the following information:

• The relevant archaeological context data
• The ware, or material, comprising the body of the vessel
(or fragment)
The form, or shape, of the vessel
• The decoration, if any, of the vessel
• The dates, where known, of the vessel
• Some means of quantifying, or counting, the amount of
the vessel.
It will be noted that – uncoincidentally –
elements two through five of the above list are identical to
the ‘identification’ level of the ceramics analysis model
advanced in Chapter Two. These six points are the
minimum information that should be recorded in a
ceramics catalogue, and many cataloguers limit their
databases to this level of information. However, note that
descriptions of ware, form and decoration need not always
be restricted to single data fields. Form can be expanded
by including additional sub-fields to describe the portion
and shape of the original vessel being described.
Decoration can be similarly expanded by including sub-
fields to describe the pattern name and colour (particularly
with transfer prints), and any maker’s or pattern mark
(though whether a mark is a ‘decoration’ per se is
admittedly open to discussion). Some researchers choose
to divide the date field into subfields so as to allow separate
listing for the initial and final dates of manufacture. The
decision on which, and how many, subfields to include
should be considered carefully before cataloguing begins.
Many cataloguers find it useful to include
additional information. It can often prove useful to
include a field describing the original country of
manufacture. Other researchers find it useful to include
an overall material field (in this case ‘ceramics’) before
describing the specific ware type. Both of these will often
prove to be particularly helpful if the ceramics catalogue
is to be integrated into a broader artefact catalogue that
includes the latter categories. Particularly common in
Australian (and, somewhat differently, American)
historical archaeology is the inclusion of ‘function’ and/or
‘activity’ fields that are designed to describe how, and in
what context, a vessel was used. Unfortunately, the
inclusion of functional fields in the basic database can be
somewhat problematic. In essence, it blurs the line
between cataloguing as the compilation of raw data, and
analysis as the synthesis of that data. As discussed in
Chapter 2, ‘function’ is an interpretive, socially
constructed category. Conceptually, it is placed in the
second, interpretive level of the ceramics analysis model.
Therefore considerations of function should ideally be
included in higher levels of cataloguing, such as MVCs,
or – preferably – subsequent interpretive analysis.
That said, it is possible to construct entirely
reasonable and acceptable arguments, well-grounded in
both method and theory, as to why broader interpretive
categories might be included in a basic accession
catalogue. One notable Australian precedent in this
regard was Birmingham’s Regentville catalogue, which
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
explicitly tied the inclusion of specific functional
categories in the catalogue into the excavation’s research
design (Birmingham 1990: 19). This is the practice that
should be followed when interpretive categories are
included in a basic catalogue – it is not enough to include
them simply because other people do, it should also be
explained as to why they are being included.
One potentially difficult cataloguing area is
deciding how to describe unidentified patterns
(particularly, but not exclusively, transfer prints). Even
when using the pattern books listed in Appendix C, no
researcher – no matter how experienced – will be able to
identify every last pattern. This will often prove to be a
particular concern when otherwise unidentified patterns
clearly recur across a site. One potential solution is to
assign ‘temporary’ names to unidentified patterns; if a
pattern field exists, these assigned names can be listed in
quotation marks, while patterns with known maker-
assigned (or in some cases, accepted collector-assigned)
names can have their names listed without quotation
marks. This practice will allow for differentiating
between the two types while also facilitating overall
sorting and identification. If an assigned-name pattern is
later identified, the actual name should be easy to insert
into a database using a common software package such as
Access. Care should be taken, however, not to fall into the
trap of assigning a new name to a pattern on a site by site
basis; once a pattern has been assigned a ‘temporary’
name, that name should be used for all subsequent
descriptions of that pattern – and particular care should be
taken to carefully document and illustrate the temporary
names where they are used.
One practice that is not recommended, whether
for describing patterns or other ware attributes, is the
development of a type series. This is the practice of
assigning a specific number or code to an individual (in
Australia, often decoration-based) collection sample, and
then assigning the same code to all other examples
sharing the defined characteristics of that sample. So all
‘two temples’ pattern whiteware might be described as
‘whiteware type 7’, while all dark-brown dendritic mocha
pearlware might be ‘pearlware type 3’. This practice is
still common in Australia, but is realistically unnecessary
for industrial-period ceramics. First of all, industrial
ceramics are an artefact type with a reasonably well-
defined and internationally accepted terminology that is
far more accessible to the researcher than the use of code
systems. Second, many Australian industrial ceramics
type series are based on decoration to the exclusion of
ware and form – the next chapter discusses in some detail
the importance of integrating all three aspects. Finally,
the real problem is that type series are often generated on
an ad hoc site by site basis, making it impossible to
compare coding systems between sites – ‘whiteware type
7’ might be a ‘two temples’ print on one type series, but a
cut-sponged decoration in another. This site-specific
nature of many type series often makes it extremely
difficult to engage in comparative research between
21
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
assemblages. If it is decided, despite these problems, to
include a type series, it should at the very least be
comprehensively described and illustrated in order to
permit others to understand the data.
Ultimately, a well-designed database using
modern software and a standardised descriptive
terminology will prove far more useful in describing an
industrially mass-produced artefact type than the use of ad
hoc coding systems. Searching in a database for
‘whiteware’, ‘bowl’, or ‘willow transfer print’ is a far more
sensible – not to mention considerably easier – practice
than using a site-specific type series.
QUANTIFYING THE DATA
While quantifying the data – counting how much ceramic
turns up in a context or site – may seem to be a relatively
straightforward issue, it is in fact rather more involved
than might first appear to be the case. There are several
systems for recording how much ceramic turns up at a site.
The most common are by sherd, by weight, by
completeness, and by vessel. Each of these serves slightly
different purposes.
A sherd count is the basic level of data, and the
level of quantification that is – quite rightly – the most
common in an ordinary catalogue. Here, for example, the
cataloguer will simply state that there are three sherds of
willow transfer-printed whiteware plates from an
individual site context. This is all that is strictly necessary
at the initial cataloguing level. However, this method is
not adequate for counting the relative amounts of different
ceramics that occur at a site, and these relative amounts are
vital to broader analysis.
Some Australian cataloguers like to include a
measure of weight in their catalogues. In theory,
measuring by weight helps to mitigate against differential
breakage rates (ie, stoneware tends to break into big, heavy
fragments, while porcelain tends to break into small, light
fragments) when plotting the spatial distribution of pottery.
However, this problem can often be circumvented by
plotting the fragment distributions of different types of
ceramics entirely separately. King and Miller’s study of a
colonial Maryland site’s midden distribution, for example,
measures seven different ceramic types separately –
including four different maps for different types of clay
pipe (King and Miller 1991). This separate plotting often
gets around the differential breakage rate problem just as
neatly as using weight. Indeed, because stoneware and
coarse earthenware sherds tend to be not only larger and
heavier than those from other types, but are also from
larger and heavier vessels, an improperly controlled
analysis of spatial distribution through weight can be just
as misleading as one done through sherds. The decision on
whether to use counts or weight for spatial analysis will
ultimately depend on the nature of the site and assemblage
under analysis.
22
Calculating the completeness of a vessel is of
most use when examining broader site formation
processes. A privy cesspit assemblage which consists of
vessels that are 80-100 per cent complete presents different
analytical possibilities than a surface scatter which
consists of vessels that are 5-15 per cent complete. This is
by no means an extreme example, and completeness
estimates very much have their place at some sites. They
will, however, almost always be an adjunct to a vessel
count rather than part of a basic catalogue. Vessel
completeness measures will rarely be included in the basic
accession catalogue, and, when they are included, are
usually part of the MVC. And here, things start to get
complicated.
While sherd counts, weights, and completeness
estimates all have their uses, broader analysis and
interpretation requires the generation of a MVC. This is a
means through which to estimate the number of vessels
recovered from a site, and – perhaps more importantly – to
quantify the relative amounts of each different type at a
site. It is a far more accurate quantification method than
relying on sherd counts, as it helps to significantly reduce
two statistical problems with the latter, namely:
• differential breakage rates – where, for example, a
porcelain vessel might break into smaller and more
numerous fragments than a stoneware vessel.
• the tendency of sherd counts to overestimate the number
of undecorated materials – if a vessel is only decorated at
the rim, the majority of individual sherds from that vessel
might be catalogued as ‘undecorated’, even though the
original vessel itself was decorated.
The latter differences have been demonstrated
statistically with an assemblage in Wales. Here the sherd
count appeared to demonstrate that coarse redwares
comprised 29 per cent of the assemblage, but the more
accurate vessel count percentage was 15 per cent; the sherd
count suggested that undecorated vessels comprised 16 per
cent of the assemblage, but the more accurate vessel count
percentage was only 2 per cent. Finally, the sherd count
had transfer printed vessels at 19 per cent of the
assemblage, but the more accurate vessel count had printed
vessels at 28 per cent of the assemblage (Brooks 2000: 75-
76). MVC counts are thus infinitely preferable to sherd
counts when the relative quantity of each material is
important to analysis. A count based on vessel weight is
also more inaccurate than an MVC; weight counts
presuppose that the weight of a complete vessel is known,
but no comparative typology of weight exists for industrial
ceramics. Without this hypothetical typology, weight
counts say nothing about the relative amounts of each type
– only how much they weigh.
An MVC is broadly similar to a minimum
number of individuals (MNI) count as used in faunal
analysis. A number of different methods exist to calculate
an MVC. In the British literature, this issue – and the
background thereof – has been discussed in considerable
depth by Orton and his collaborators (eg Orton 1985;
Orton and Tyers 1990; Orton et al 1993: 166-175). The

American literature has similarly featured important
discussions of MVCs and related issues (eg Miller 1986;
Sussman 2000). While not necessarily common in
Australia, it is hardly unknown here (eg. Casey and Lowe
2000: 2002). A comprehensive overview of all the
various counting methods used by ceramicists need not be
repeated here, and the following discussion will use Orton
as its main point of reference. Unfortunately, while Orton
is undeniably statistically rigorous, the level of
mathematics in his counting systems often makes them
inaccessible to the ordinary cataloguer. Suffice it to say
that he advances two primary methods for compiling a
vessel count: the estimated vessel equivalent (eve) and
estimates of vessels represented (evrep). Of these, Orton
and his colleagues strongly advocate quantification based
on vessel equivalents (Orton and Tyers 1990: 97; Orton et
al. 1993: 171-173), and while the methods advanced in
the following discussion lack Orton’s mathematical
rigour, they may be conceived of as a type of eve.
Despite Orton’s best efforts to spark debate and
provide solutions, vessel counting remains one of the
great unspoken mysteries of historical and post-medieval
archaeology. Very few, if any, reports specifically state
the method used to compile their counts. This has
potentially serious implications for comparative ceramics
analysis. Different count methods usually result in
slightly different counts, therefore there is a serious risk
that the analyst comparing assemblages is not actually
comparing like with like. While this may only rarely
prove to be an insurmountable problem, it must be
addressed by the inclusion of an explanation of the
relevant counting system in a report.
The most straightforward, though perhaps not
always the most accurate (for which see the Orton
citations above), way to compile a vessel count is as
follows: separate the assemblage by ware. Then separate
it by decoration. Then separate it again by form. In many
cases, there will now be several groups of unique vessel
fragments. For example, there may be only one green
transfer-printed cup fragment, one blue shell-edged plate
fragment, and one gilt enamelled bone china saucer
fragment. These are clearly each one vessel. If a group is
large, it can be further subdivided. For example, a pile of
blue transfer-printed plates can be separated according to
the actual pattern, leaving groups of Willow, Rhine,
Asiatic Pheasant, Albion, etc… Vessel size is another
useful indicator – plate rims with different rim
circumferences are almost certainly from different vessels
(although watch out here for ovoid platter rims). At this
point, further subdivision can take place according to
decorative style: not all Willow is identical, not all blue
shell edge is identical. In essence, the analyst is
attempting to list each of the sherds or groups of sherds
that come from unique vessels.
Some common potential problems should be
brought to attention. First of all, industrial mass-
production means that most vessels are not unique, not
even within a single assemblage. In some assemblages,
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
this will be easy to identify. If, after mending, there are
two complete sprigged bone china saucers, then clearly
there were at least two of them. More fragmentary
assemblages can be more of a challenge. Use common
sense: if there are three rim fragments from ‘Two
Temples’ transfer-printed cups, but four cup handles from
the same, then clearly there were at least four ‘Two
Temples’ cups, not three. Similarly if the only two
‘Rhine’ plate sherds feature an identical overlapping
section of the original pattern’s central decoration, there
must be two ‘Rhine’ plates, not one. However – and this
is an important point – if they do not overlap, but are
otherwise identical, then the relationship between the two
fragments is unprovable, and all that can be said for
certain is that there was at least one plate. On a related
note, care should be taken not to fall into the trap of
assuming that each and every sherd in an assemblage has
to be assigned to a vessel. If there are six identical highly
fragmented Willow plates, this will be impossible to do
unless you can actually mend each of the plates. Mending
the sherds from an assemblage is in fact often of vital
assistance when compiling an MVC, particularly when
dealing with highly fragmented vessels. However, advice
should be sought from the relevant local heritage
authority beforehand to see if there are any regulations
regarding mending in a particular state or territory. It is
also important to make sure that each fragment is properly
labelled before undertaking an MVC or mending the
assemblage.
The type of MVC described above calculates
what might be termed a ‘sensible minimum’ rather than an
absolute minimum – the latter would always be the
impossibly reductive ‘one’ for each form and ware. A
‘sensible minimum’ is simply a statement that there are at
least this many vessels in this assemblage, that this
minimum is acceptably close to, though probably
somewhat lower than, the actual original number of
vessels, and that the count is as representative as possible
of the relative number of each type in the assemblage. It
is this ability to identify the relative amounts of each type
that is crucial for analysis – comparing assemblages
usually requires some ability to understand the relative
quantities of different materials in those assemblages.
Some specific methodological issues do arise from
applying this MVC method to industrial ceramics, notably
in comparing decorated pearlware with undecorated
creamware from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries (see also Miller 1986). In brief, the number of
undecorated vessels will often be somewhat
underestimated as more decorated vessels will be
identified from unique body sherds. However, as long as
the inherently subjective element of most vessel counts is
acknowledged, this should not prove to be an
insurmountable obstacle. Ultimately, one of the best tools
will remain that old standby, common sense.
An MVC may have its inaccuracies (which will
be obvious to anyone with a basic grasp of statistics), and
in terms of absolute accuracy, it will always be more
reliable and appropriate when examining assemblages
23
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
from discreet closed contexts rather than from mixed
deposits or the site’s surface. For this very reason, care
should also be taken when generating an MVC for the
whole site when individual features and assemblages may
feature very different site formation processes. But
whatever the potential problems of an MVC – whether
statistical or technical – the alternatives are even more
inaccurate.
Upon completion of the MVC, a separate vessel
catalogue should ideally be compiled. This is not
redundant information, but rather an entirely different
level of data. This separate catalogue should consist of at
least all of the same six points as should be featured in a
basic catalogue, but it will often be possible to include
greater descriptive detail in the vessel catalogue. It is
important to stress that each record in the vessel catalogue
should consist of a single vessel. It will also prove vital to
record which individual fragments are included with each
vessel; this will not only prove useful for any spatial
analysis, but will greatly facilitate cross-referencing
between the original catalogue and the vessel catalogue.
With the vessel catalogue in place, it is possible to
undertake more in-depth analysis and interpretation.
Almost all of the analytical discussions in Chapter 5 will
rest on the assumption that an MVC has been generated
for a site.
CURATION
After ceramics have been washed, labelled, catalogued,
and counted, in most cases they will have to be stored. The
precise nature of this storage will depend on what sort of
facilities are available and what sort of regulations might
be in place. This will not only vary from state to state, but
indeed from site to site. Despite this potential variability
in scope, there are still certain standards that can be
adhered to. The following discussion is paraphrased (and
in some cases copied) from the SHA’s curation standards
and guidelines (see also appendix D).
In most cases, the best ceramic storage vehicle is
still a polyethylene, zip-lock-type plastic bag. Bags should
be perforated (a single perforation with a dental pick or
similar will usually suffice) to allow air exchange and
inhibit the development of unwanted microenvironments.
Paper bags disintegrate over time and should only be used
for temporary field storage. Closing open bags with
staples is totally unacceptable; the staples will rust,
therefore potentially damaging the collection, and artefacts
may well fall out through gaps between staples if this
unreliable method is used. Exceptionally large or
unusually-shaped ceramics may require different methods;
consult with your relevant local storage facility. Nothing
should be bagged unless it is completely dry. Finally, all
bags must be permanently labelled with the appropriate
site and provenience information. Ideally, an acid-free tag
(labelled with an acid-free ink pen) featuring this
information should also be placed inside the bag.
24
Artefact storage boxes must be made of
archivally stable materials and should preferably be a
standard size. Ideally, the curation facility where the
artefacts are to be stored will have regulations on the type
of box to be used. Consultation with the relevant curation
facility before containers are purchased is highly
recommended. It cannot be stressed enough that artefacts
must be packed in such a way as to avoid crushing or
otherwise damaging the contents of the box; ceramics may
be tough, but they are far from indestructible. It is also
important that all packing materials be archivally stable.
Just as with the zip-lock bags, all storage containers must
be labelled with the appropriate site and provenience
information. This level of labelling is not excessive.
Redundancy is important – as anyone who has worked at a
flooded or otherwise damaged storage facility will be able
to attest. Some means of identifying the contents of the
box may also prove helpful, even if this only consists of
writing ‘ceramics’ on the side under the site name.
Ideally, any facility used for the permanent
curation of archaeological collections should provide
physical security, climate control, fire suppression, pest
control, collection monitoring, and access to qualified
researchers. This list obviously demands that adequate
space and resources are dedicated to the purpose of
curation. Unfortunately, as of mid-2003, there are only a
few dedicated storage facilities for archaeological
materials in Australia that meet all of these requirements
(the Heritage Victoria archaeology laboratory in
Melbourne and the Museum of Sydney are among the
exceptions).
To close this chapter, a brief word on the
complicated and often highly emotive issue of de-
accessioning is necessary. This is the practice of culling
ceramics and other materials from assemblages both
before and after analysis. Ideally, de-accessioning should
simply never take place with ceramics. While the complex
issues of storage space and curation costs must be
acknowledged, de-accessioning entails the intentional
discarding of potential data – the very antithesis of
archaeology. The central issue here is that ceramics types
that may seem to be of little use today may prove to be
important to archaeological analysis in the future.
This is no idle hypothetical issue. The Victorian
Archaeology Service (VAS) Corinella report (Coutts 1985)
demonstrates the extent that culling could sometimes reach
in the 1980s. Only 28 per cent of the 631 sherds were kept
for analysis from one section of the site (Coutts 1985: 55),
and only 16.7 per cent ‘diagnostic’ sherds out of 2410 were
kept from another (Coutts 1985: 109). No attempt is made
in either case to explain the methodology used in
discarding certain elements of the assemblage. As recently
as 1995 large quantities of the potentially pre-gold rush
assemblage from the Short’s National Hotel (Gisborne,
VIC) assemblage were discarded, but in the latter case the
report commendably at least attempted to quantify those
materials discarded prior to analysis (Luebbers 1995)
though the use of a site specific type series for that
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

quantification also serves to demonstrate many of the

pitfalls of such a type series.

One example from current research will show

the potential problems inherent in this issue. As will be
discussed in the ‘economy’ section of Chapter Five, it
would seem that the white granite ware type might be an
important ware for examining Australia’s role in
nineteenth-century international trade. However, there is
reason to believe that undecorated, or lightly decorated,
materials such as white granite were disproportionately
thrown out due to their lack of ‘diagnostic’ decoration. A
recent survey undertaken by this author of the surviving
Corinella (Coutts 1985) and Captain Mills Cottage
(Coutts 1984) materials clearly demonstrates that small
amounts of white granite occur in these assemblages.
Unfortunately, the past culling of more than 80 per cent of
some parts of the assemblages means that we will never
know whether these relatively small quantities (compared
to other Victorian sites such as Viewbank) of a then-
unrecognised material reflect a genuine rarity at these
sites, or whether white granite was simply thrown out as
‘undiagnostic’.

It would be wrong not to acknowledge that

significant external pressures – particularly as regards
cost – are often brought to bear on archaeologists, and
which have the effect (whether intentional or not) of
encouraging culling. There will indeed be cases where
the professional, through no fault of his or her own, and
much against his or her better instincts, will have no
choice but to cull due to these external pressures. This is
unfortunate, but is also a fact of life. However, at the
same time, research or curation should never start from
the assumption that the de-accessioning of a site’s
artefacts is somehow ‘inevitable’, and where no external
pressures exist, it should never be undertaken as a matter
of choice. Where culling is undertaken, the final report
should feature a clear statement on why the decision to
cull was made, and how much was culled of what
materials; thorough and accurate cataloguing of the
materials before they are culled is also an absolute
necessity. As of 2003, Heritage Victoria, through Deakin
University post-graduate student Ilka Schacht, is engaged
in an in-depth study of culling and collection significance
that promises to make a significant contribution towards
our understanding of this contentious and emotive issue.

25
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Chapter 4:
Ware, Decoration, Form and Date
This chapter provides a basic guide to the identification of
ceramic ware, form, and decoration and offers some
suggestions on the use of ceramic dates. The first three of
these categories are arranged alphabetically within each
group and are illustrated where at all possible. The use of
italics in the typologies refers to a type which is discussed
elsewhere in the chapter.
Much attention has been paid in the North
American archaeological literature as to the best way to
categorise a ceramics assemblage, particularly as to
whether ware or decoration should be the primary
determining diagnostic category in a ceramics catalogue
(Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 129-135; Miller 1991b).
Many of these arguments have merit, and the problems
with a solely ware-based system for nineteenth-century
ceramics are discussed in some detail below.
Unfortunately, the conceptual division between ware,
decoration, and indeed form, while very real, tends to
distract from the fact that the identification of a ceramic
vessel (or fragment thereof) depends on a knowledge of all
three of these characteristics. All three are diagnostic. All
three can contribute towards the dating and analysis of an
assemblage. Debate should therefore centre not on which
characteristic should be the primary diagnostic category,
but rather on how to integrate these three basic elements of
identification into a coherent whole. Each category
undoubtedly has its important place, but – to misquote
John Donne – none of these categories are an island, entire
to themselves. Each is part of the main.
WARE
The following typology is specifically oriented to the
British wares relevant to the Australian colonial period.
Thus several historically important, but chronologically
irrelevant, types – white saltglazed stoneware, for example
– are excluded. Where a British pottery type that overlaps
the 1788-1901 dates has not yet been identified (to the best
of my knowledge) in an Australian context, they have
nonetheless been included on the possibility that they may
be identified here in the future. Some generic terms
common in the North American and British literature
which may be of more limited utility in Australia have also
been included in order to aid international comparability
and explain potentially confusing usage in the
international literature. As the focus is on British-made
wares, no attempt is made in the following discussion to
engage with locally-made Australian ceramics. One of the
best current non-archaeological sources on Australian-
made materials is Ford’s Australian Pottery: The First 100
Years (1995).
With the possible exception of the ‘white granite’
ware category, which is still the subject of some debate at
this writing, the terminology used in this section (and
26
indeed throughout the chapter) largely follows the
accepted ‘common’ usage of northern hemisphere
historical archaeologists. This has been done partially to
encourage international comparability, and partially
because it would have been rather gratuitous to invent
entirely new categories. Nonetheless, it is worth
mentioning in passing a possible argument for abandoning
traditional typological categories for these materials in
Australia, particularly when dealing with refined white-
bodied earthenwares. In the northern hemisphere, the
industrial mass-produced wares in this category have
traditionally been subdivided chronologically into
creamware (c.1760-1820/30), pearlware (c.1780-
1820/30), and whiteware (no earlier than 1805, more
usually 1820+). White granite comes later (c.1845+).
This roughly chronological typology is
essentially based on the observation that the amount of
cream or blue in creamware and pearlware glazes
gradually decreases over time, leaving whiteware as the
end result. But this traditional typology has one obvious
flaw when used in Australia: outside of the earliest British
settlements, there will be very little creamware or
pearlware in most of the country for the simple
chronological reason that these ware types had largely
fallen out of use by c.1830. For the vast majority of the
Australian continent, the ware type traditionally referred
to as ‘whiteware’ offers absolutely nothing in the way of
chronological control if ware is used as the primary
chronological factor. Only the advent of white granite –
which in any case coexists with whiteware – offers any
real dating mechanism based on traditional ware
categories.
The lack of chronological control is itself not a
valid objection to the use of the traditional typology, as
dates can still be effectively identified through decoration,
style and makers’ marks. Examining the whole is
important to analysis – Majewski and O’Brien (1987: 135)
quite correctly state that integrating decoration and ware is
preferable for the inexperienced analyst examining
nineteenth-century assemblages. Using the ‘Aesthetic’
artistic movement as a case study, Majewski and Schiffer
(2001: 34-42), have also shown how shifts in decorative
style on ceramics often provide far greater control on the
dating and life history of ceramics items than traditional
ware categories (see also Samford 1997). Miller has even
pointed out that ‘creamware’, ‘pearlware’ and ‘whiteware’
were not the terms usually used by the original
Staffordshire potters. The potters used ‘CC’ (‘cream-
coloured’) to refer to all undecorated wares – irrespective
of actual glaze tint. From 1780, virtually all decorated
wares of these types were pearlware or whiteware, but
these were referred to in potters’ and merchants’ records
by decoration, not ware type (Miller 1991b: 5; 1993: 4-5).

So why stick with the traditional archaeological
terminology? Comparability and compatibility of
terminology remains vitally important. Virtually all
historical archaeologists from the northern hemisphere,
for better or for worse, use the traditional terms. While
admittedly even the Americans and British may not
always identify those terms consistently – an issue rather
acutely addressed by Miller (1991b) and Majewski and
O’Brien (1987) – a unilateral Australian discarding of this
usage would not only cut off Australian pottery analysis
(and thus most site reports) from the main body of
historical archaeology, but also make it almost impossible
to undertake any in-depth international comparative
analysis. Miller’s arguments are cogent, but North
Americans use his CC index (see chapter 5) without
adopting much of his preferred terminology on an
everyday basis. Furthermore, the terms ‘creamware’ and
‘pearlware’ have been in use for over a century (eg.
Hayden 1912: 230-240) – this is hardly a gratuitous
modern usage.
In any case, Americans place ‘Band-Aids’ on cut
fingers, the British ‘Hoover’ their floors, and Australians
hang their laundry out to dry on a ‘Hills Hoist’, without
concerning themselves too much about whether or not
these are the specific brand of bandage, vacuum cleaner
or rotary clothes hanger in use. Ultimately, yes, there is an
argument for redeveloping the traditional terminology to
address the Australian archaeological environment, but it
is outweighed by the argument in favour of keeping to
common international usage.
Before turning to the specifics of ware
description, mention should be made of the ‘tongue test’.
This well-known – but hardly very scientific – test is
predicated on the firing temperature and clay types of
different ceramics. More specifically, it is based upon the
observation that stoneware and porcelain are fired at
higher temperatures than earthenware, and are therefore
not porous. In effect, their unglazed surfaces will not
absorb liquid, therefore broken surfaces will not stick to
the tongue. Earthenware, on the other hand, is porous,
must be glazed if it is not to absorb liquids, and thus
broken surfaces will stick to the tongue. That is the
theory.
In so far as stoneware and porcelain will not
stick to the tongue, the method is correct (though even
here some underfired stonewares will be an exception –
see the stoneware discussion below). Prior to the
nineteenth century, the test can also be a handy additional
identification tool for earthenwares (with the caveat that
no one should go around licking uncleaned sherds straight
from the ground as a matter of course). But the system
becomes far more complicated in the nineteenth century.
As is extensively discussed in this ware section, refined
whitebodied earthenwares exist within a broad continuum
of firing temperatures, densities, and vitrification. Thus
many materials that are technically earthenware, but are
from the upper end of that continuum, will not stick to the
tongue. In sum, for nineteenth-century assemblages, if a
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
broken surface sticks to your tongue, then the material is
– more likely than not – earthenware. However, if it does
not stick to your tongue, then it could be a highly-fired
earthenware, stoneware, or porcelain; actually looking at
the fragment will be a far better guide to identification
than licking it.
black basalt: Also occasionally referred to as ‘basaltes’ or
‘Egyptian black’. This is a black, dry-bodied stoneware,
often lacking a glaze, and usually moulded or engine-
turned. One of the many wares perfected by Josiah
Wedgwood in the late eighteenth century, black basalt
was used for a wide variety of forms and functions, from
ordinary table forms through to ornamental busts.
Examples recovered from archaeological sites most
frequently take the form of teawares, particularly teapots.
Older North American archaeological literature usually
lists dates of 1768-c.1820 for Black Basalt, but Miller has
extended this to 1750-1850 (Miller 2000: 10). However,
the modern Wedgwood firm still makes this material, and
glazed black basalt teapots appear to have been made in
Britain through much of the nineteenth century – Kelly
goes so far as to imply that these later glazed examples are
specifically Scottish (Kelly 1999: 8), though this seems
unlikely. The American dates thus only represent the
peak period of American imports of the material, and are
not necessarily relevant to Australia. Edwards’ 1994 book
Black Basalt: Wedgwood and Contemporary
Manufacturers discusses this material type in
considerable detail.
Figure 4.1: Edged and gilt-banded bone china plate; this bone
china plate features both relief moulded and gilt-banded
decoration on the rim.
bone china: Bone china (figure 4.1) was by far the
dominant porcelain type produced in Britain in the
nineteenth century, and was introduced by Josiah Spode
in about 1794 (Miller 1991b: 11). It differs in composition
from ordinary porcelain through the addition of bone
powder to the clay and through being fired in a kiln (as
with earthenware). Its body is coarser than standard
porcelain, which often leads to unwashed pieces being
misidentified as earthenware. Bone china can usually be
identified through a combination of an off-white colour
and extremely fine micro-crazing in the glaze. However,
while an off-white body and micro-crazed glaze will
27
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
china vessels will have a glazed footring, whereas the
footring on hard-paste porcelains is unglazed. This
material most commonly occurs in the form of teawares,
and often features enamelled decoration, particularly gilt
enamelling. The sprigged moulded decoration type is
also common.
References will be found in the archaeological
literature to ‘soft-paste porcelain’. When referring to
British examples, this will almost always refer to bone
china. Technically, the two terms do not entirely overlap
(bone china is a sub-type of soft-paste porcelain), but
bone china completely dominates British soft paste
porcelain production during the Australian colonial
period, and the Australian researcher can almost always
safely assume that any soft-paste porcelain found is in fact
bone china.
Recently, considerable attention (McCray and
Majewski 2000; Owen 2002) has been paid to the
chemical composition of bone china. These studies may
well contribute extensively to our future understanding of
bone china production, ceramics consumption and trade.
Figure 4.3: Bristol glaze stoneware jar.
Figure 4.2: Bristol glaze stoneware bottle.
28
Bristol-glazed stoneware: A type of stoneware,
distinguishable by its industrial slip glaze, originally
developed by the William Powell firm of Bristol in c.1835
but soon taken up by other stoneware makers (Godden
1991: 509). Bristol glaze presents a smooth buff to white
external surface, and technically speaking is formed by a
mixture of feldspathic materials with china clay and zinc
oxide (Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 110). Some larger
vessels may feature a brown upper third and a buff lower
body. By the second half of the nineteenth century,
Bristol-glazed vessels are quite common in the form of
jugs, bottles, and jars (figures 4.2, 4.3). Many British
bottles recovered on Australian sites are Scottish, with the
Kennedy Barrowfield pottery and the Port Dundas Pottery
Co. of Glasgow particularly common. Probably
uncoincidentally, both of the latter firms are known to
have specifically catered to the South American and
Pacific Rim markets (Kelly 1999: 17; 165). Note that
locally-made Australian Bristol-glazed materials also
occur (Mary Casey pers. comm. 07/2004), and unmarked
examples can be difficult to differentiate from their
British counterparts.
buckleyware: A distinctive black-glazed red-bodied
coarse earthenware usually associated with the Buckley
district of Wales. Earlier eighteenth-century examples
have a marbled red and white clay, but the white appears
to gradually disappear until later nineteenth-century
examples are entirely red-bodied. The most common
forms are milkpans and a distinctive type of rouletted
large storage jar. As of this writing, no examples of this
material have been identified in Australia. While it may
seem unlikely that this bulky utilitarian ware would have
exported to Australia, the possibility should not be
dismissed completely out of hand. An export market in
this material did exist prior to British settlement in
Australia, and sizeable quantities of Buckleyware were
exported to North America via Liverpool from at least
1720 through to the American revolution (Noël Hume
1970: 133); the material remains common on nineteenth-
century Welsh sites (Brooks 2003: 124) through to the end
of the century.
Figure 4.4: Buff-bodied earthenware mug; this moulded mug is
slightly unusual for featuring Rockingham-type glaze at the
rim only.

indicate that a piece is bone china, not all bone china is
off-white or micro-crazed. Where a footring is present,
bone
buff-bodied earthenware: Many nineteenth-century sites
feature a small selection of buff-bodied refined
earthenware vessels with a dark- to mid-brown glaze,
almost all of which occur in the form of teapots (though
mugs also occur – see figure 4.4), and many of which
feature applied moulded pineapples or floral designs;
examples are even known with Australian motifs, such as
native fauna and flora or coats of arms. These moulded
vessels are often referred to as Rockingham-type. Some
buff-bodied earthenware is quite highly fired, and thus
presents similar issues over identification through fabric
vitrification as occur with whiteware and white granite.
cane ware/caneware: A dry-bodied, buff to tan colour
stoneware dating to the late 1800s, and typically used for
teawares and baking vessels. It was made by several
Staffordshire factories (Lockett 1982; Majewski and
O’Brien 1987: 93-95). Somewhat confusingly, the terms
caneware and yellowware were often used
interchangeably by manufacturers and merchants.
‘Caneware’ should only be used to describe dry-bodied
stoneware in those rare cases where the material does
actually occur. ‘Yellowware’ should be used to describe
the clear-glazed yellow-bodied earthenware normally
used for utilitarian forms. True caneware appears to be at
best extremely rare in Australia.
coarse earthenware: This is a generic term used to
describe various low-fired earthenwares with a coarse
body. Before the introduction of mass-produced refined
earthenware, most earthenwares were coarse earthenware,
but in Australia the vast majority of coarse earthenware
will be found in utilitarian forms – another example of
how typological priorities shift in the historical period
when compared to earlier assemblages. Most coarse
earthenwares in Australia will be locally made redware
Figure 4.5: Creamware Chamberpot.
(and are thus outside the scope of this book), but British-
made yellowware (which is perhaps better conceptualised
as ‘utilitarian’ rather than ‘coarse’) will also be found.
creamware: A light cream-bodied refined earthenware
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
with a slightly tinted lead glaze over a white body (figure
4.5). The tinted glaze often pools yellow or yellow-green
in foot rings and other crevices. Traditionally dated in the
archaeological literature as c.1760-c.1820 or c.1830
(Miller 2000: 12), but these dates imply a degree of
certainty absent from real life. A far more complete
discussion of creamware than can be offered here may be
found in Barker’s 1991 book on the Staffordshire potter
William Greatbatch.
Creamware was arguably the single most
important pottery innovation of the last 250 years. The
concept of a cream-coloured refined earthenware was not
itself innovative – Astbury had been experimenting with
similar wares as early as 1720 (Hayden 1912: 232), and a
colourfully decorated ware made of cream-coloured
earthenware generally with a green/yellow/brown mottled
glaze – developed by Whieldon, and often called
Whieldonware or (more accurately) Whieldon-type ware
– was common from c.1740-c.1770 (Miller 2000: 12).
The combination of industrial mass production combined
with conscious and effective marketing nonetheless mark
out creamware as the first major ‘modern’ pottery type.
Creamware was perfected by Wedgwood in 1761, and was
popularised through Queen Charlotte’s purchase of a set
in 1762 (hence ‘Queensware’ – Hayden 1912: 232);
Wedgwood’s clever marketing exploitation of this event
arguably invented modern mass-marketing techniques.
Undecorated cream-coloured wares were
produced by a wide variety of potters in Great Britain
until c.1820. From roughly this date, the amount of the
colour in the glaze was gradually lessened, leading to
whiteware (Miller 1991b: 5). As previously noted, many
of the original potters’ and merchants’ records confusingly
still referred to undecorated whiteware as ‘CC’, or
‘cream-coloured’, ware (eg. Miller 1991a, 1991b). It must
be stressed that the lessening of the cream colour was an
inconsistent process that varied between manufacturers,
and identifying wares from the transitional period can be
notoriously subjective. The 1820-1830 transition will
chiefly be an issue on earlier Australian colonial sites, but
time-lag in deposition may make it an issue elsewhere as
well.
Figure 4.6: Dyed-body ware, moulded blue hollow vessel.
29
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Figure 4.7: Dyed-body ware, undecorated blue bottle base.
delftware: See tin glaze.
dyed-body ware: A small number of ceramics found on
Australian archaeological sites feature a dyed body,
usually in blue (figures 4.6, 4.7), though grey, buff and
even green examples were also made. These wares are
rare, but widespread, with many assemblages across
Australia featuring one or two vessels. They occur in two
types: clear-lead glazed earthenwares (which are rarely
moulded), and more highly-fired semi-vitrified materials
featuring a thin ‘smear’ glaze. The latter are often
moulded. Miller is of the opinion that ‘dyed-body ware’
is the most accurate name to describe both of these types
of coloured-body ware (George Miller, pers. comm.
05/2004).
earthenware: Along with stoneware and porcelain, one of
the three main overall ceramic groups in historical
archaeology, and by far the most common of the three. More
specifically, earthenware is a low-fired, opaque
(nontranslucent), porous ceramic which must be glazed in
order to contain liquids, and is typically fired between
temperatures of 600 and 1200 degrees celsius. This is
obviously a very broad category, and even before separation
into individual ware types occurs, earthenwares can be
divided between coarse earthenwares and refined
earthenwares.
hard paste porcelain: The term ‘hard paste porcelain’ is
used to distinguish between soft paste porcelains (such as
bone china) and the more vitrified British and European
porcelains that are a closer match for Chinese materials.
However, the term ‘porcelain’ is often used alone as a
generic ware name for all non-Chinese porcelain that is not
bone china. The former is more strictly accurate, but as
long as the terminology used is explained in a report, either
system may be used.
European potters had long attempted to imitate
Chinese porcelain, but it was only at the beginning of the
eighteenth century (Miller 2000: 9) that German
experiments led to the development of a formula that
allowed a reasonable imitation to be made – the famous
Meissen porcelain. European and (later) British porcelains
30
(whether hard or soft paste) were initially expensive, and
much of the early history of British industrial pottery
innovation was driven by the search for cheaper
alternatives to both main types of porcelain.
The majority of hard paste porcelains found at
Australian sites will be Chinese, and are thus outside of the
scope of the present book. The clay composition of
European and British hard-paste porcelains are different
from their Chinese counterparts and they are usually much
whiter than the Chinese examples found in historical
archaeology. When compared to bone china, the body of
hard paste porcelain will be considerably more vitrified –
smooth and glassy – than its soft-paste counterpart. A
sherd break will be also typically be much sharper and
more angular than with soft-paste.
ironstone: This term should be avoided in cataloguing
where possible. In the past, ‘ironstone’ has been one of the
most inconsistently applied (and infuriating) terms used by
archaeologists in discussing refined earthenware. Indeed,
it is a largely unnecessary term, and is included here solely
to inform users of this guide on the debates attached to its
use.
Previously, archaeologists have used ‘ironstone’
to apply to one of two types of ware. The first is more
accurately described as white granite, and is discussed in
detail under that term. The second – and the one
considered to be ‘correct’ in as much as it matters for this
guide – is a heavy, high-fired variant of whiteware
introduced in the early years of the nineteenth century, and
sometimes referred to as ‘stone china’. ‘Mason’s Patent
Ironstone’ (introduced in 1813) is the most famous of these
materials (see Godden 1999: 71-106 for an extensive
discussion of Mason’s wares). In the latter sense, ‘stone
china’ or ‘ironstone’ occurs in all of the same forms and
decorations as whiteware (moulded white granite,
however, is a different matter), and to the naked eye is
distinguished solely by its denser, more vitrified, less
porous material. However, changing technology in the
nineteenth century meant that refined whitebodied
earthenwares were made in a continuum of density,
porosity, and vitrification rather than in easily definable
categories. Pinning down where whiteware begins and
stone china/ironstone ends can be difficult even for the
most experienced ceramicist. Low-fired examples of the
latter materials are in fact indistinguishable to the naked
eye from ordinary whiteware (Barker 2002a). Further
confusing matters, ‘ironstone’ and similar terms (such as
‘stone china’, ‘opaque pearl’, etc.) were used extensively
for marketing purposes by manufacturers as brand names
associated with strength and durability, and the presence of
a maker’s mark stating ‘ironstone’ by no means indicates
that the vessel is indeed what it claims to be (Barker
2002a; Miller 1993). Majewski and O’Brien’s comment
on ironstone that ‘we [archaeologists] are splitting hairs by
trying to distinguish among ceramic bodies that are simply
points on a continuum’ (Majewski and O’Brien 1987:
120) is singularly apt.
It is strongly recommended here that cataloguers simply
use ‘whiteware’ for most white earthenwares, including

both whiteware and stone china/ironstone, with only
white granite separated out as a different type. If the
degree of body vitrification is considered to be an
important diagnostic category (as advocated by Majewski
Figure 4.8: Pearlware plate, front; this pearlware plate (found,
perhaps surprisingly, at a Melbourne site) features a not-unusual
combination of chinoiserie (Chinese-style) transfer print with
added enamelled colouring.
Figure 4.9: Pearlware plate, reverse; the reverse of the plate in
figure 4.8, to show the characteristic blue pooling in the
footring.
and O’Brien [1987]), this can be recorded in a separate
field.
pearlware: A refined earthenware with a distinctive
glaze tinted blue by the addition of cobalt oxide (figures
4.8, 4.9). A blue pooling of the glaze often occurs in foot
rings and other crevices. Pearlware features virtually all
decorative techniques found on contemporary refined
earthenwares, particularly transfer printing, painting,
enamelling, shell edge, and various manifestations of
industrial slip. Completely undecorated examples are
extremely rare, and an undecorated pearlware fragment
will almost always come from a decorated vessel.
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Pearlware is traditionally considered to have been
developed in 1779 by Josiah Wedgwood, but Wedgwood
was simply at the forefront of the popularisation of a
material that had been in production since at least 1775,
and had previously been called ‘china glaze’ – an
indication that this material was originally supposed to be
an imitation of blue-tinted Chinese porcelain (Barker
2002b; Miller 1987; Miller and Hunter 2001). Early
painted and transfer-printed pearlwares often feature
Chinese-themed designs, and not entirely coincidentally,
pearlware’s blue tint bears a passing resemblance to
Chinese porcelain. As with creamware, pearlware does
not suddenly vanish, but rather the amount of blue
gradually decreased between c.1820 and c.1830 until
whiteware predominates (Miller 1991a; 1991b). Again as
with creamware, it can be quite frustrating attempting to
categorise vessels dating from this transitional period.
Care should be taken not to confuse pearlware
with flow blue decorated whiteware (where the blue
colour is a feature of the decoration, not the glaze) or
blue-tinged white granite. It must be stressed that the
mere presence of some blue pooling does not by itself
indicate the presence of pearlware. To further add to the
confusion, the term ‘pearl’ regained popularity as a
marketing name on some white granite, and the presence
of the term ‘pearl’ on a maker’s or pattern mark almost
certainly indicates that the vessel is not in fact pearlware,
and that the vessel post-dates c.1845 (Miller 1993).
In Australia, pearlware will usually only occur
on sites dating from the earliest period of British colonial
settlement, but care should be taken elsewhere; several
examples of pearlware are known to exist in assemblages
recovered in Victoria.
porcelain: With earthenware and stoneware, one of the
three overall types of ceramic in historical archaeology.
Porcelain was originally developed in southern China in
the ninth century, and European porcelain was not
developed until 1708 in Meissen, Germany (Gleeson
1998: xi). True porcelain is a hard, non-porous, vitrified
(glassy) and slightly translucent material formed by firing
a highly specific mixture of clays at temperatures of about
1280-1400 degrees celsius. The glaze frequently appears
to be fused to the paste. The British porcelain type most
commonly found in Australia is bone china, though this is
not as vitrified as true hard paste porcelain; the footring
on hard paste porcelain (unlike with bone china) will also
be glazed. Not all porcelain recovered from Australian
sites will be related to the kitchen or table. Porcelain
electrical fittings and plumbing components are also
common, and have the potential to cause confusion.
31
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Figure 4.10: Redware lid.
redware: Redware is not really a specific ware type, but
is rather a generic term used to describe the large number
of red-bodied coarse earthenwares (figure 4.10) that are
not usually given specific ware designations. The term is
best restricted to British and American materials from
sites that postdate c.1760, as prior to this date coarse red-
bodied earthenwares are often the most common elements
of an assemblage, which necessitates further
differentiation of these materials. Australian-made
materials may require a different terminological approach.
Even in the industrial period there are circumstances
where the designation of separate ware types occurs for
British and American redware, though the only one listed
in this typology is buckleyware. The redware category
includes all of those coarse red-bodied earthenwares
sometimes catalogued in Australian historical
archaeology as terracotta, though use of the latter term
should be discouraged when referring to British-made
materials.
Figure 4.11: Refined red earthenware teapot; moulded,
brown-glazed.
32
refined earthenwares: Another generic term, this time
used to described fine-bodied, industrially mass-produced
earthenwares such as creamware, pearlware, and
whiteware. The refined white-bodied earthenwares
introduced in the second half of the eighteenth century are
one of the most important categories of materials in
historical archaeology. These refined, yet relatively
inexpensive, wares followed in the footsteps of white salt-
glazed stoneware (the first mass-produced tableware) as
part of a revolution in ceramics manufacturing,
marketing, and use. On non-Australian sites dating prior
to the introduction of refined earthenwares, the
overwhelming majority of ceramics recovered typically
consists of coarse earthenwares, and Chinese porcelain
was the only refined tableware available. After the
introduction of refined earthenwares, coarse earthenwares
form the minority of an assemblage, even on sites
associated with Australian convicts, the transient British
poor or enslaved African-Americans. More information
on the history of these wares can be found under each
type. In more or less chronological order, the main
refined earthenwares discussed in this chapter are
creamware, pearlware, whiteware, and white granite.
Refined red earthenwares and buff-bodied earthenwares
are also briefly discussed.
Figure 4.12: Refined red earthenware teapot; black-glazed,
enamelled.
refined red earthenware: Not all red earthenwares are
coarse redware. While uncommon, there are refined
earthenwares with a red paste, and which occur in
tableware forms – usually teapots (figures 4.11, 4.12).
For the most part, these can safely be grouped into a
generic ‘refined red earthenware’ category. References to
‘Jackfield’ and ‘Jackfield-type’ wares often occur in the
Northern Hemisphere archaeological literature. This
usually refers to highly-fired dark red to purple-bodied
refined red earthenware (almost a stoneware) with a dark
brown to black exterior glaze and (usually) a white
interior. However, ‘true’ Jackfield is usually considered
to be an eighteenth-century type (Miller 2000: 12). Given
that ‘true’ Jackfield largely predates European settlement
in Australia, at present this does not seem to be a relevant
diagnostic distinction in Australian historical archaeology,
though future research may well lead to a re-evaluation on
this point.

Figure 4.13: Salt-glazed stoneware bottle; this bottle features
an elaborate printed mark from the Joseph Bourne firm
(c.1833-61) of Denby, Derbyshire.
salt-glazed stoneware: A common type of stoneware
distinguished by its glaze. The classic appearance is of a
pitted ‘orange peel’ effect. Almost all examples in
Australia will have a brown to buff glaze (though grey
does occur), and will similarly almost always be storage
vessels, particularly bottles (figure 4.13). The glaze was
formed by throwing salt into the heated kiln, resulting in
what can be technically described as a ‘thin, intensely
hard film of a silicate of soda and alumina’ (Majewski and
O’Brien 1987: 110). Salt-glazed stoneware found in
Australia can originate from a variety of countries, but
British- and locally-made vessels will be the most
common.
While the overwhelming majority of salt-glazed
materials will be stoneware, Australia does provide one
example of an exception. A post-convict era potter at Port
Arthur (TAS) does appear to have experimented – less
than successfully – with crude salt-glazed earthenwares
made from local clays. Examples of these experimental
materials are held at Port Arthur. Other than these highly
unusual Port Arthur examples, however, the only other
exceptions are likely to be underfired ordinary stoneware.
Note that the salt may not have always been evenly
distributed during the salt-glaze firing process, and
examples where the dimpled orange peel effect only
covers a portion of the vessel are by no means uncommon.
References will be found in the northern
hemisphere literature to white salt-glazed stoneware
tablewares. These were common in the Atlantic world
(and indeed into the interior of the North American
continent) in the mid-eighteenth century, but they pre-date
the British settlement of Australia, and it must be
considered highly unlikely that examples will be found at
Australian sites.
stone china: Within the archaeological literature, this was
a term used by Miller in the 1980s (eg Miller 1991b: 9-10)
to describe early, heavy, denser, and more vitrified
whitebodied refined earthenware dating from the first half
of the nineteenth-century – or what many Northern
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Hemisphere archaeologists would describe as early
ironstone. Miller used the term very specifically to help
resolve the difficult issue of the differences between
whiteware, white granite, pearlware and ironstone – and
to include ‘stone china’ within the CC index system. The
term ‘stone china’ should be treated with extreme caution
in Australia, however. Miller clearly intended that the
term should refer to highly-decorated, more vitrified
refined whitebodied earthenwares that predate 1840
(Miller 2000: 13). It was certainly never intended to be
analogous to later nineteenth-century more vitrified
white-bodied earthenwares – which is how the term has
typically been used in those Australian catalogues where
it does appear. Further confusing matters is that the term
‘stone china’ was already in use in the eighteenth century
to describe a wide number of different materials,
including British porcelain, Chinese porcelain, and even –
though rarely – creamware (Godden 1999: 57-58).
As noted under ironstone, it is strongly
recommended here that cataloguers simply use
‘whiteware’ for most white earthenwares, including both
whiteware and ironstone, with only white granite
separated out as a different type. If the degree of body
vitrification is considered to be an important diagnostic
category (as indeed recommended by Majewski and
O’Brien [1987]), this can be recorded in a separate
database field.
stoneware: One of the three overall ceramics divisions,
stoneware is a vitrified (non-porous), highly fired (1200-
1250 celsius), opaque (nontranslucent), ware originally
developed in the European tradition in thirteenth-century
Germany (Asian stonewares also exist). The most
common material colours are grey, buff, and brown,
though other colours (including white, black, cane-
coloured [or buff], and red) also occur. Red and white
British stonewares are extremely rare between the mid-
eighteenth century and the late nineteenth century, when
production was revived – and these revived materials
appear to be at best extremely rare in Australia. Examples
with marbled (two or more colours) clays also occur,
though these are uncommon and occur as much by
accident as by design. By the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, stoneware manufacture was common
throughout most of Western Europe and much of North
America. Australian production became increasingly
common from the beginning of the nineteenth century.
Almost all stonewares recovered in Australia
will be grey-, buff-, or brown-bodied, and either salt-
glazed or Bristol-glazed. Similarly, almost all stonewares
recovered in Australia will be either storage vessels or
sewage fittings (the latter can present an identification
problem for the unwary). The only exception usually
encountered – and even this is quite rare – will be black
basalt. For the most part, stoneware in Australia can be
catalogued by body colour and glaze – for example ‘grey
salt-glazed stoneware’, ‘buff Bristol-glazed stoneware’,
and ‘brown salt-glazed stoneware’.
One final problem to watch out for is the
infrequent occurrence of underfired stonewares. These
are materials that were designed to be stoneware, but
33
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

where the fabric never fully vitrified – usually due to

problems or inconsistencies in the firing process. While
these vessels are stoneware in intent, they are technically
earthenware in practice. Where these materials do occur
(and they will be quite rare), they should be catalogued as
stoneware, with a separate note describing them as
‘under-fired.’

terracotta: Sometimes used in Australia to describe red-

bodied coarse earthenwares – or what North American
historical archaeologists typically call redware. The use
of this term in Australian historical archaeology appears
to be influenced by the terminology of classical
archaeology, and ‘terracotta’ is widely used in Australia to
describe red-bodied coarse earthenwares that, technically
speaking, exceed the firing temperature of true terracotta.
When describing British-made materials, ‘redware’
should always be the preferred term for reasons of both
accuracy and international comparibility.
Figure 4.14: White granite plate, ‘Berlin swirl’ pattern; this
tin glaze: A highly friable buff paste earthenware with a pattern is by far the most common white granite pattern found
thick, separate blue to white opaque glaze, frequently in Australia, to the near (but not total) exclusion of other types.
painted. It is often referred to in the northern hemisphere
literature as ‘delftware’, but since this can be interpreted
as indicating specifically Dutch or English manufacture,
many archaeologists prefer the more geographically
neutral name. ‘Modern’ tin glaze wares evolved as early
as 1600, and are thus one of the most successful and long-
lasting British or European wares of the post-medieval
period. However, by the time Australia was settled in
1788, tin-glaze manufacture was dying out as a result of
competition with the new, more durable, industrial wares
such as creamware. Tin-glazed tablewares were made in
rapidly diminishing quantities up until c.1800, while
small quantities of chamberpots and ointment/apothecary
jars were made as late as 1830 (Miller 2000: 11).
Significant amounts of tin glaze were also made in
Continental Europe, and are referred to as faïence or
majolica depending on which part of Europe they were
made in; these are common on both French and Spanish
sites in North America.
Tin-glazed vessels will be extremely rare in
Australia. Three small fragments of painted tin glaze
occur in later-nineteenth-century contexts at the Figure 4.15: White granite cup, ‘Berlin swirl’ pattern.
Viewbank site in the northern Melbourne suburbs.
Fragments like these are most probably from antiques, white granite: Perhaps no single ware type relevant to
replicas, or are non-British in origin. Given the the historical archaeology record in Australia is liable to
prominence of tin-glazed ointment and apothecary jars in cause as much confusion as white granite. The potential
later forms, it is perhaps significant that the primary analytical importance of this ware is discussed in Chapter
Viewbank resident was a reasonably wealthy doctor. 5, so this description will focus on providing a practical
guide to identification (see also ironstone and stone
china). In essence, white granite is an often semivitreous,
refined earthenware, often featuring a slight bluish to
bluish-grey tint, and usually very little in the way of
decoration except various moulded motifs. Almost all of
the white granite so far identified in Australia has been in
the ‘Berlin swirl’ moulded pattern (figures 4.14, 4.15).
Barker (2002a: 300) notes that – referring to white granite
specifically - ‘ironstone bodies appear more dense and
more highly vitrified than earthenwares, and their glazes
frequently have a blue tint.’

34

Miller (1993: 6) has previously offered some
identification tips for white granite, but these were for a
specifically North American audience. Adapting Miller
for Australia, we can arrive at the following guidelines: 1)
Export of white granite from the UK began in the 1840s,
thus for pre-1840s assemblages, there will not be any
white granite. 2) In post-1840s Australian contexts, the
forms most likely to be white granite are cups, saucers,
platters, plates, tureens and jugs/pitchers. 3) Semivitreous
post-1840s earthenwares are most likely white granite. 4)
If the body, rather than the glaze, has a blue to grey tint, it
is most likely white granite. 5) Combined with these
other factors, embossed moulding along the rim (and body
with hollow forms) often indicates white granite. 6) The
bluish tint led to a brief comeback for the term ‘pearl’
post-1840; wares with makers’ marks indicating ‘pearl
china’, ‘pearl stone ware’, ‘pearl white ironstone’, ‘pearl
white’ or ‘opaque pearl’ will not be pearlware, but rather
white granite and (confusingly) in some cases even
whiteware (see also Barker 2002a; Brooks 2002: 55-56).
Just to further confuse matters, many collectors refer to
white granite as ‘white ironstone china’ (eg. Dieringer and
Dieringer 2001), though they restrict that usage to the
same material under discussion here. The presence of
white granite in Australia also provides one of the
strongest arguments against assemblage culling (see
Chapter 3).
whiteware: White-bodied, clear-glazed refined
earthenware. Whiteware was not the product of a single
innovation, but was essentially the end product of the
gradual reduction of the cream and blue tints,
respectively, in the glazes used on creamware and
pearlware c.1820-1830. Confusingly, potters continued to
use the term ‘CC’ (cream-coloured) through much of the
nineteenth century (Miller 1991b). Whiteware dessert
wares were being manufactured by Wedgwood and
several other Staffordshire potters in the first decade of
the nineteenth century (Teresita Majewski pers. comm.
06/2004), thus the traditional starting date of 1820 denotes
the mass-market popularisation of the new, whiter
materials and its use for the full range of table- and
teawares rather than the actual initial date of introduction.
The 1820-1830 transitional period will inevitably present
challenges in ware definition when using a traditional
typology, and it is perhaps a blessing in disguise that this
period is of a more limited geographical relevance in
Australia than in the UK or North America.
Whiteware occurs in almost every conceivable
tableware and teaware form and decoration. Indeed, as
discussed at the beginning of the ware typology, the sheer
ubiquity of whiteware in the nineteenth century raises the
issue of whether a traditional division of ceramics by ware
type – except in the broadest sense – continues to have
any real validity for wares post-dating 1830.
yellowware: A clear-lead-glazed, yellow-bodied refined
(usually nonvitreous) earthenware, typically used for
utilitarian and storage forms (figure 4.16), though not
entirely uncommon in other forms, particularly
chamberpots. This material is also occasionally
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
mistakenly referred to as ‘caneware’ or ‘cane ware’, but
this is actually a different (dry-bodied buff-coloured
stoneware) material entirely. Yellowware is usually
undecorated, with annular and mocha the most common
techniques on decorated pieces.
Figure 4.16: Yellowware; a typical selection of moulded
yellowware utilitarian bowl fragments.
Yellowware is technically a refined earthenware,
but it is often conceptually grouped with coarse
earthenwares due to the predominance of utilitarian forms
within the type. From one perspective, the versatility of
form and function of yellowware, combined with its
colour – so similar to pre-industrial British slipwares –
might even designate the material as the last of the British
folk tradition utilitarian coarsewares, though it remains
largely unstudied in the British descriptive tradition.
Yellowware was made in both the UK and the
United States, and is traditionally dated to 1830+ (Miller
2000:13). Similar materials were also made in Australia.
Identifying the original place of manufacture is often
impossible unless a maker’s mark is present. British
yellowware does undeniably turn up in Australia, however
– marked pieces from Swadlincote and Burton-On-Trent
(both in Derbyshire) have been recovered from
excavations at Casselden Place and the Queen Victoria
market in the Melbourne CBD.
DECORATION
Since the very beginning of ceramics manufacture, potters
have sought to enhance the appearance of their work. By
the industrial period, the range and variation of decorative
techniques available was extensive indeed. This section is
not completely comprehensive; it does not discuss every
possible decorative variation in close detail, but it does
cover all of the major types of decoration, and some of the
more common subtypes (and, when relevant, some of the
more unusual ones too). Another concept not described
in detail in this section is variation in decorative style over
time (see Majewski & Schiffer 2001; Samford 1997); this
is potentially an important tool for dating and
interpretation, but more research needs to be undertaken
on Australian preferences, trade and consumption before
35
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
it can be readily applied in this country.
In most cases, the following typology focuses on
defining the overall decoration rather than common
individual variants. An exception has been made for
transfer prints, where six of the more common individual
types in Australia have been described, and shell-edged
decorations, where a list of subtypes has been provided.
Figure 4.17: Transfer-printed and gilt-banded saucer; this bone
china saucer offers an example of how decorative techniques
may be combined. Here a fibre-pattern transfer print is
combined with a gilt-banded scalloped rim.
Note that many vessels will feature combinations of the
following decorative techniques (figure 4.17), and any
catalogue must be capable of describing such
combinations. Particular caution should always be used
when identifying decorative technique from a single small
sherd alone; a small banded cup rim may actually come
from a floral cup, an undecorated plate shoulder may
come from a shell-edged plate, and a floral rim transfer
print may come from a vessel with a scenic centre
print. Finally, do not use the term ‘ware’ to describe
decorations. ‘Ware’ should, where possible, be
restricted to describing materials identified on the basis
of body (eg stoneware) or – in some cases – glaze.
Describing an object as ‘Willowware’, ‘mochaware’, or
‘lustreware’ is misleading not just because these terms
are decoration-based, but because each of these can
occur on more than one actual ware type. While it is
fully recognised that decoration may often prove to be
a more useful diagnostic tool than ware in the
identification of nineteenth-century materials, this
should not encourage the haphazard application of the
terminology of ware and decoration.
annular: Regular horizontal bands of clay slip, most
often found on bowls. The earliest examples are
typically found on pearlware. The bands on annular
wares consist of a coloured clay slip, and are thus a
subtype of industrial slip, and under no circumstances
should be confused with banded wares (see also figures
4.21 and 4.26).
36
Figure 4.18: Banded whiteware plate rims.
banded: The use of painted or enamelled decoration in
regular horizontal bands, typically along the rim
(figure 4.18). Sometimes also referred to as ‘lined’ or
‘linear’. Not, under any circumstances, to be confused
with annular wares. Identifying a banded vessel from
the rim sherd alone is particularly problematic, as many
of these vessels would, when complete, have featured
more extensive painted decoration. Majewski and
O’Brien (1987: 161) believed stand-alone banded
decoration with no other decorative features to be a
post-1860 technique, and this does appear to be true for
Australia as well. However, while quite rare, examples
of stand-alone banded rim late eighteenth-century
creamware do exist within the Museum of London
collections.
Chelsea sprig: See sprigged.
decal: An overglaze decoration similar in the level of
detail to transfer prints, and also referred to as
‘decalcomania’, ‘lithotransfer’ and ‘lithography’.
Decals were initially monochrome (particularly red),
and this has occasionally caused confusion for people
unaware of the existence of decal-printing who mistake
monochrome decals for an overglaze transfer print.
However, overglaze transfer prints dating from the
same period as decals are extremely rare to the point of
being non-existent. A sharply-defined overglaze
decoration from the very end of the nineteenth or the
early twentieth century will almost certainly be a decal.
The more common polychrome decals (figure 4.19) are
even more distinctive (if it looks like a transfer print,
but is polychrome, highly detailed, and overglaze,
assume it is a decal), and should cause few
identification problems. As decals are overglaze, they
can also be felt with a fingernail (see also Majewski
and O’Brien 1987).
Decals occur on both whiteware and porcelain.
Monochrome decals were produced through the use of
engraved copper plates. Polychrome decals, however,
were produced through the use of lithographic stones,
with a different stone for each colour. In both cases,
the printed side of the decal was then applied to the

side of the vessel before being rubbed on with a rubber
roller (Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 146).
Figure 4.19: Polychrome decal pickle dish; this porcelain
pickle dish features both a polychrome floral decal and a gilt-
stencilled rim. It is the Twentieth Century either from the very
end of the Nineteenth Century.
Decals are the last great decorative innovation
of the nineteenth century, but were perfected, mass
produced, and became popular in the first quarter of the
20th century (Majewski and Schiffer 2001), and are
still in production today. While developed possibly as
early as 1850 (in France), and introduced to British
wares about 1890, they appear to be uncommon much
before 1900 (Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 147; Miller
2000: 13). They are apparently common on 20th-
century Australian sites, though the latter are outside of
the scope of the present volume.
dipt: Also ‘dipped’. Another name for industrial slip.
Figure 4.20: A Selection of 18th-century Edge-moulded Decorations (from Whitehead and Whitehead 1798)
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
edged: The origin of the practice of decorating the edge of
a vessel through impressed or relief moulding predates the
period relevant to this book. However, the white salt-
glazed stonewares of the mid-eighteenth century were the
first industrial wares to feature fine mass-produced rim-
moulding.
There appears to be occasional confusion in
Australia over the appropriate use of the terms ‘feather
edge’ and ‘shell edge’. Most edged wares in Australia are
shell edged, and are discussed later in this section under
that category. There are two other types of edged
decoration that will be discussed here, however. The first
are some specific early edged decorations (including
feather edge) found on creamware, which typically date
from c.1760-c.1800, and thus are rather unlikely to appear
in Australia. Figure 4.20 features several of these types
from James and Charles Whitehead’s 1798 earthenware
design book. Most relevant to this book is number 26.
This is an example of ‘feather edge’. This lightly
scalloped rim with embossed curved ‘feathering’ at rim is
relief moulded (not impressed) and uncoloured. It is quite
different from shell edge. Use of this term to describe
nineteenth-century shell edged vessels will lead British
and North American archaeologists to wonder how an
eighteenth-century creamware rim decoration largely pre-
dating the settlement of Sydney ended up in nineteenth-
century Australian contexts, and should thus be avoided.
Except, of course, in the unlikely (but not impossible)
scenario that some feather edge has been recovered from a
site.
The second subtype of edged decoration is more
directly relevant to Australia, and these are what Majewski
and O’Brien term ‘nonpainted relief decoration’ (1987:
153), though it may be somewhat more precise to describe
this type as ‘edge relief moulded’ or simply ‘edge-
37
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

moulded’. This subtype can encompass most nineteenth- often filled with a slip in order to colour the design (figure
century whitewares moulded along the edge (such as a plate 4.21).
marly) that are not shell edged. An extraordinary variety of Engine-turning is a decorative technique closely
nineteenth-century edge-moulded decorations exist, though associated with industrial slip techniques, particularly in
this appears to be an under-researched area by both the use of engine-turning on the rims of industrial slip
archaeologists and collectors. Only with white granite does hollow vessels, but which can also be used as an
there appear to be an extensive literature of named, independent technique. Nonetheless, when combined with
diagnostic, and maker-attributed relief-moulded patterns, industrial slip, engine turning is rarely considered to be a
though this naming has often been done by collectors separate decoration, and the vessel is counted as an
rather than the original manufacturers (eg Dieringer and industrial slip subtype. Engine-turning appears to be
Dieringer 2001). exclusively associated with hollow forms, and is most
common on pearlware, although it also sometimes occurs
enamelled: The term used to describe overglaze painted on eighteenth - and early nineteenth - century stonewares.
decoration (Miller 1991b: 7). Conservators sometimes use Engine-turning on earthenware is most common between
‘enamelled’ in a more specific context, but in archaeology c. 1795 and 1830, and will thus be quite rare in Australia.
it is now usually used to apply to all overglaze painted Apart from black basalt, engine-turned stoneware largely
vessels. In North America, enamelled vessels are predates the European settlement of Australia.
consistently more expensive than their underglaze
counterparts (Miller 1991b: 13). The price relationship of
these vessels in Australia is yet to be established, but until
more research can be done on this point it would not be
unreasonable to assume that it was broadly similar because
of the lengthy process needed to produce them. Because
of this potentially diagnostic element, care should be taken
to identify enamelled and painted decorations separately.
More specialised types of enamelling include gilt and
lustre decorations, which are discussed elsewhere in this
section. It is not uncommon for enamelled decoration to
be combined with underglaze decorative techniques, such
as painted and transfer-printed vessels. Enamelled
decoration fades more readily than underglaze decorations,
thus care should be taken to properly examine and identify
vessels where this type of combination might occur. Care
should also be taken when washing these materials so as Figure 4.22: Transfer-printed flow blue whiteware bowl
not to cause further damage or deterioration to the fragment.
overglaze decoration.

Figure 4.21: Engine-turned and annular bowl rims; these

whiteware bowl rims demonstrate how engine-turned rims and
annular bodies are often combined.
engine turned: A decorative technique made by placing a
vessel on an eccentric lathe with a fitted template or
templates while the material is still leather-hard. The lathe
is then turned, leaving a regular geometric impressed or
incised design on the vessel (Adeny 1989; Carpentier and
Rickard 2001; Sussman 1997). These impressions were
Figure 4.23: Painted flow blue jug; this relief-moulded
whiteware jug fragment features painted flow blue decoration.
flow blue (including other flow colours): A decorative
technique where the colour of the decoration (usually blue,
but occasionally black or purple) has been allowed to blur,
or ‘flow’ (figure 4.22). This technique is usually
associated with transfer printing, but some examples are

38

painted (Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 143; Williams 1981:
215-228 – see figure 4.23). In many cases these painted
examples occur in set, definable patterns. Australia also
features minute quantities of a highly unusual type of flow
blue decoration. Three or four vessels of what are
undeniably cut-sponged flow blue teawares (mainly
saucers) have been recovered from the Quebec Street site in
Port Adelaide (SA) and Port Arthur (TAS). While the latter
may not be unique, they are certainly extremely rare – one
of the very few illustrated examples of cut-sponged flow
blue occurs in Kelly’s guide to Scottish pottery (1999: 184),
but even here the design is more elaborate and refined than
with the unusual Quebec Street and Port Arthur examples.
When cataloguing flown vessels, it is strongly suggested
that the identification use the following format: Flow
[colour] [technique]. While transfer prints are by far the
most common manifestation of this technique, under no
circumstances should the catalogue automatically assume
that the flown decoration is in fact a transfer print, as it could
be painted or sponged.
The most common archaeological start date for
flow blue is c.1845, but this is actually the date that these
vessels were first imported to North America (Miller 2000:
13). Recent discussions with Nigel Jefferies at the Museum
of London suggest that 1835 may be a better start date for
assemblages recovered in the UK, and until more research
has been done on the appropriate start date in Australia,
1835 would seem to be the best available terminus post
quem for this material in this country.
Figure 4.24: Gilt ‘tea leaf’; interior of bone china cup base.
gilt: Not really a specific type of decoration, but rather
refers to the use of gilt paint in decoration, usually as part
of an enamelled decoration. Banded enamelling is
particularly common, often in combination with the ‘tea
leaf’ design (a clover-like painted motif usually found in
the vessel centre – figure 4.24). In Australian contexts,
gilt vessels will almost exclusively be porcelain and
refined earthenwares. Gilt enamelling is highly prone to
fading (though a faint mark or ‘shadow’ of the enamelled
area usually persists), and seemingly undecorated bone
china pieces in particular should be studied carefully to
see whether a faded decoration is in fact present. As with
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
all overglaze decorations, care should also be taken when
washing gilt-decorated vessels.
glaze: The vitrified external surface found on most
vessels. The inclusion of glaze under the ‘decoration’
heading of this guide is somewhat misleading. Glaze can
be decorative, but it need not be so. Glazes fulfill many
roles, and are designed either to protect a vessel, make the
vessel non-porous, to decorate a vessel, or some
combination of all three. For the period covered by this
book, the overwhelming majority of glazes on British
vessels in Australia will be clear lead glazes. The
inclusion of a separate ‘glaze’ category in a catalogue is
thus often largely redundant and unnecessary. Where
glaze is a diagnostic feature of a vessel’s ware type (such
as on stonewares, tin-glazed earthenware, or even
arguably pearlware), this will already be explicit within
the ware designation. Where a glaze has been coloured
for decorative effect, then this can be recorded under
‘decoration’. Note that a different approach may be
needed, however, for some twentieth century wares not
covered by this book, where the coloured slip glaze is a
diagnostic feature (Teresita Majewski, pers. comm.
06/2004)
Figure 4.25: Industrial slip whiteware bowl; ‘fan’ pattern.
Figure 4.26: Miscellaneous industrial slip; from left to right,
an annular bowl with unidentified extra slip, a cat’s eye bowl,
an annular bowl.
39
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
industrial slip: This is a term that encompasses several
different subtypes, many of which are occasionally the
cause of some confusion due to an important difference in
terminology between archaeologists and collectors. In
this guide, the term ‘industrial slip’ describes the use of
clay slip (a thin layer of coloured clay wash) on
industrially-manufactured pottery (figures 4.25, 4.26).
Collectors often use the term ‘mocha’ to refer to all of
these materials, though ‘dipt’ or ‘dipped’ was the name
usually used in their original period (Carpentier and
Rickard 2001: 115; see also Sussman 1997). ‘Mocha’,
however, should only be used to refer to a specific type
of industrial slip decoration featuring dendritic fern-like
designs.
Engine turned, annular, and the
aforementioned mocha industrial slip subtypes are each
discussed separately in this guide. There are a
bewildering variety of other subtypes of this material,
many of which are described in more detail than can be
offered here by Sussman (1997) and Carpentier and
Rickard (2001). Some of the more common types,
however, are ‘fan’, ‘cat’s eye’, ‘common cable’, and
‘twig’. Industrial slip is usually found on pearlware
and whiteware hollow vessels, though industrial slip
yellowware (particularly blue on white mocha) is not
entirely uncommon. The peak of industrial slip
production dates between c.1790 and 1830, but they are
found on archaeological sites dating from the 1780s
through to the 1850s (Carpentier and Rickard 2001:
133), and annular wares and yellowware mocha
chamberpots continue in production for most of the
nineteenth century.
linear: See banded.
lustre: ‘Lustre’ refers to the use of a metallic style of
decoration that occurs in two types: enamelled vessels
where the design occurs as a metallic, slightly reflective
overglaze paint, and vessels where most or all of the
exterior body is covered in a metallic, slightly reflective
coating. Gold lustre creates the most common pink to
purple hue, while the less common platinum lustre
creates a silver hue. The metallic nature of the lustre
can deteriorate over time, and some enamelled versions
can thus be tricky to identify for the novice. The
earliest experimental lustre decorations date to the
1770s, but Josiah Wedgwood and his son Thomas
developed the first commercially successful gold and
platinum lustres in the early 1790s, and the traditional
end date for significant lustre production is c.1850
(Miller 2000: 12), though the latter may require some
review. Enamelled lustre decorations are found on most
contemporary ware types (except coarse earthenwares
and stonewares), but appear to be uncommon in
Australia.
mocha: A sub-type of industrial slip, ‘true’mocha is
readily identifiable by its well-known dendritic fern-
like patterns, and was apparently named after the moss
agate stone itself named after its source: the Yemeni
port of el Mukha (Carpentier and Rickard 2001: 122).
40
Figure 4.27: Mocha-decorated jug.
The earliest recorded references to this type date from
early 1790s invoices of the potters Lakin and Poole
(Carpentier and Rickard 2001: 122). Mocha is usually
in dark brown to black colours on a light brown to
orange slip, but some later examples (particularly on
yellowware chamberpots and some jugs) are blue on a
white slip (figure 4.27). Other colours such as green
and red do occur, but these are quite rare. While all of
the mocha identified in Australia to date is British,
French examples from the Creil pottery are also known
internationally (Rickard 1993: 184-186). Since Creil
wares have been recovered in Australia (such as at
Casselden Place in Melbourne), the potential
occurrence of French examples cannot be completely
ruled out. The dendritic design is often said to have
originally been the by-product of a mixture of stale
urine and tobacco spit (eg Kelly 1997: 4). The no less
prosaic truth is that each potter seemed to develop his
own recipe consisting of ‘various combinations of
tobacco juice, hops, urine, dry painter’s black,
turpentine, citric acid, and water’ (Majewski and
O’Brien 1987: 163). The recipe of Thomas Brameld of
the Yorkshire Rockingham factory featured ‘1 iron
scales, calcined; 1 Painter’s Blue, calcined; and 1
Manganese. Memo: Being short of good vinegar, James
Barrow one day tried a small quantity of spirits of
turpentine along with his old colour, and it answered
very well’ (cited in Carpentier and Rickard 2001: 125).
moulded: A generic term used to describe a wide
variety of moulded decorations on more or less every
ware type available. The term can be used to describe
both simple moulds, such as ribbed bodies (or
polygonal bodies on hollow vessels) and more elaborate
moulds, such as flowers. The term furthermore applies
both to moulding the original body and to applied sprigs
and moulds. White granite relief-moulded decorations
are often named (sometimes by manufacturers,
sometimes by collectors) and associated with specific
manufacturers (Dieringer and Dieringer 2001), and
where identifiable can be as useful a diagnostic tool as

transfer prints – though in Australia the ‘Berlin Swirl’
pattern is virtually the only white granite pattern found
archaeologically. The only moulded decorations
described separately in this guide are sprigged, and
edged vessels, particularly shell edge. Realistically,
this term encompasses a wide variety of decorations,
and individual cataloguers may well choose to develop
more specific terminology as necessary – though if this
is done, any ad hoc terminology should always be
carefully explained within a catalogue.
painted: Underglaze painted decorations, as opposed to
overglaze painted – which are technically referred to as
enamelled. Painted decorations occur in a wide variety of
styles, from floral designs to elaborate scenes, to simple
painted bands (for the latter, see banded). For further
categorisation, painted vessels are often divided by style
of decoration, and by two broad colour categories:
monochrome (featuring only one colour) and polychrome
(two or more colours). Some painted designs can achieve
a surprising level of standardisation if a stencil was used
to apply the original decoration – though even stencilled
designs will not achieve the level of definition found on
transfer prints. There have been noteworthy attempts in
the archaeological literature to date painted decorations
by style (eg. Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 157-159),
however these are almost invariably American-based, and
should be used with caution if applied in Australia.
Figure 4.28: Rockingham-type buff-bodied earthenware teapot
fragments.
Rockingham-type: Buff-bodied earthenware vessels
with a brown, frequently mottled, glaze are often referred
to as ‘Rockingham-type’ (figure 4.28). Occasionally, the
decorative technique may be found on yellowware, or on
other forms, but it is most commonly associated with
buff-bodied teapots. Both British and locally-made
Australian examples occur.
shell-edged: Shell-edged vessels are characterised by the
combination of an impressed or (rarely) relief-moulded
rim with paint along the rim. Shell-edged rims are often,
but not always, scalloped, while later examples may
entirely lack the impressions or mouldings. The colour of
the paint is usually blue, although green occurs on a
significant minority of examples, and other colours
(black, red, brown, etc.) feature on a much smaller
minority. Colours other than blue are rare after c.1840
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
(Miller 1991b: 6). Under no circumstances should shell
edge be confused with feather edge – the latter is a
specific type of late-eighteenth-century uncoloured
creamware edged decoration.
Shell-edged vessels are almost always plates or
platters, but very occasionally occur as hollowware
vessels, such as bowls, soup plates, and tureens and their
lids. And even more occasionally as chamberpots. Shell
edge almost always occurs on pearlware and whiteware,
though creamware examples are not unknown. Shell
edge proper was introduced as early as 1775 and
continued to the end of the nineteenth century. This was
the least expensive decorated ware available (Miller
1991b: 6), though an attempt was made around 1820 to
raise the value of these materials through the brief
introduction of more elaborate embossed shell-edged
vessels. Miller and Hunter (Miller and Hunter 1990;
Hunter and Miller 1994) have developed a very useful
dated typology of shell-edged subtypes (figure 4.29), later
updated by Miller alone (2000: 3) – though it should be
mentioned that the following dates have not yet been
tested for their viability in Australia. The following dates
are for mean beginning and end dates representing the
peak of production rather than absolute beginnings and
ends.
ROCOCO: Uneven scallops, impressed lines –
c.1784-1812.
EVEN SCALLOP, IMPRESSED STRAIGHT
LINES: Self-explanatory – c.1809-c.1831.
EVEN SCALLOP, IMPRESSED CURVED
LINES: Self-explanatory – c.1802-c.1832.
EVEN SCALLOP, IMPRESSED BUD: Features
a recurring ‘bud’ occasionally interrupting the impressed
Figure 4.29: Shelledge Rim Types (after Hunter and Miller
1994; Miller 2000; Miller and Hunter 1990).
41
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
lines –c.1813-c.1834.
EMBOSSED: Here the rim decoration is raised,
rather than impressed, and is usually slightly more
elaborate than with plain impressed shelledge –c.1823-
c.1835.
UNSCALLOPED IMPRESSED: Features both
plain impressed lines and simple repeating patterns –
c.1841-c.1857.
UNSCALLOPED UNMOULDED: Here the rim
has been painted only. No decoration occurs other than the
(often quite crude) application of the colour. – c.1874-
c.1884.
slip-decorated: Slip-decorated wares feature a coloured
clay wash applied to the vessel for decoration. In the
context of this guide, the term more specifically refers to
hand- or tool-applied slips on coarse earthenwares, as
opposed to industrial slips. This can include vessels where
the entire surface of the vessel has been covered in a slip.
Most slip-decorated wares belong to pre-industrial
traditions, and had largely died out by the time of the
European settlement of Australia. Nonetheless, some slip-
decorated vessels continued to be made locally in Britain
into the nineteenth century (eg. Kelly 1999: 190). Most
slip-decorated coarsewares in Australia, however, will be
locally made rather than British. Care should be taken
(when relevant) not to confuse the eighteenth- and
nineteenth-century wares covered by this discussion with
twentieth century coloured-slip-glazed wares, though
initial research suggests that the latter are extremely rare in
Australia.
sponged (including both ‘spatter’ and ‘cut-sponged’
stamped): Standard sponged decoration is typically
formed by the application of the sponge to the top or
external surface of the vessel. The resulting decoration
does not have a specific pattern, and the ink is usually
(but not always) blue. Sponged decoration occurs on
almost every form of pottery made in the nineteenth
Figure 4.30: Cut-sponged whiteware cup fragment.
42
century, and ordinary sponged materials are virtually
undateable or untraceable unless marked. There are two
significant variants of standard spongeware, which
should be catalogued separately where possible.
CUT-SPONGED: Also sometimes referred to as
‘sponge-printed’ (figure 4.30). Here the hard root of the
sponge is cut into specific shapes – much like a child’s
potato-pressing. Cut sponged decorations occur in a
variety of colours and are sometimes polychrome. While
the archaeological literature typically lists a start date of
1840 (Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 163) or 1845 (Miller
2000: 13) for this material, production appears to have
begun in Scotland around 1835 (Kelly 1999: 183).
English and Welsh examples are also known (Bebb 1997:
20; Brooks 2000: 196; Kelly 1999: 184), but the vast
majority of these materials are unmarked. It may prove
possible in the future to identify the region of origin of
cut-sponged vessels based on stylistic variations in the
design, but the necessary research on this issue has yet to
take place. The production of cut-sponged vessels
continues to the present day.
SPATTER: The name given to ‘sponged’ vessels
where the decoration takes the appearance of many small
dots. In fact, while this technique is usually conceptually
included with sponged materials, no sponge was actually
used in the manufacture of spatter. Instead the dry,
powdered decoration was applied to the side of the vessel
by blowing or via the means of oil (Kelly 1999: 183).
sprigged: Small blue applied moulded sprigs of forget-
me-nots, thistles, grapes and – less frequently – more
abstract fleur-de-lis designs (figure 4.31). Sprigged wares
are most commonly – though not exclusively – found on
bone china, most frequently on teawares. However,
whiteware examples are also known from Australian sites,
such as Viewbank (VIC). This decoration is also referred
Figure 4.31: Sprigged bone china saucer fragment.
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

to as ‘Chelsea sprig’, but the ‘Chelsea’ part of the name is

misleading, and it appears likely that these blue sprig
decorations were commonly used by many British
manufacturers. Specific dating of this decoration is still a
matter of some conjecture, but research in Wales and
Scotland (eg Brooks 2000; Kelly 1996) appears to
indicate that it is common on British sites from c.1820
through to the later nineteenth century; these dates would
also seem to be broadly accurate for Australia. Sprigged
decoration also frequently occurs on gothic-style forms,
made primarily from 1840 to ca. 1860, and occasionally
has lustre accents (Teresita Majewski, pers. comm.
06/2004). Care should be taken to avoid the use of the
term ‘sprigware’ – this is a decoration, not a ware type.

transfer prints: No single decorative technique from the

industrial era has been subject to more comment and
analysis than transfer printing. This is as true in art
history as it is in archaeology. Transfer prints are not only
an extremely common decorative technique, but the level
of detail combined with definable stylistic chronologies
make this an extremely useful decoration for diagnostic
purposes. Indeed, Majewski and O’Brien believed that Figure 4.32: ‘Rhine’ pattern differences 1; Rhine pattern
the popularity of printed decorations was one of the more whiteware plate.
important reasons why potters moved to marketing
materials by decoration instead of by ware (1987: 141).
Flow blue (and black) transfer prints are described
elsewhere in this section.
The technology of transfer prints was subject to
variation according to location and time, but in essence
the process involves the placement of a transfer paper on
an inked, engraved copper plate. The transfer paper is
then applied to the vessel in its biscuit state, leaving the
design behind. The glaze is applied, and a final firing
occurs (Majewski and O’Brien 1987: 141-142).
While developed as early as 1750, transfer prints
only appear to become common with the introduction of
creamware in the early 1760s. The earliest designs were
black or red overglaze prints, but on earthenware these
were rapidly replaced by blue (and occasionally black)
underglaze prints from about 1780 (overglaze printing
continued at least into the 1820s on bone china). The
necessary technology to produce green, red, yellow, and
black designs was developed in 1828, and polychrome
transfer prints were introduced about 1840 (Majewski and
O’Brien 1987: 141-143; Miller 2000: 13). Important
attempts have also been made in the archaeological Figure 4.33: ‘Rhine’ pattern differences 2; this whiteware
literature to date transfer prints by stylistic variation over platter and the plate in figure 4.32 demonstrate how the centre
time (eg Samford 1997). While this approach has much pattern on Rhine plates can differ even though the rim is the
to recommend it, so far the relevant published literature is same.
almost invariably based on American market trends, and
more research needs to take place on stylistic variation in
the Australian market before similar methods can be used
in Australia.

43
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Figure 4.35: ‘Willow’ pattern.

Figure 4.34: ‘Rhine’ pattern differences 3; ‘Rhone Scenery’

whiteware chamberpot – this vessel has a floral scroll transfer-
printed pattern superficially similar to the Rhine pattern. It is in
fact the confusingly named ‘Rhone Scenery’ pattern,
demonstrating the danger of assuming that superficially similar
patterns are in fact the same pattern.

Potential problems in transfer print identification include:

• Assuming that differently styled rim and centre prints
belong to distinct vessels. The ‘Rhine’ pattern offers an
excellent example of how a floral rim and a scenic centre
often come from the same pattern.
• Automatically identifying all examples of a particular
pattern with a specific maker simply because a pattern is
often associated with that maker. This often appears to be a
specific problem with the (mistaken) assumption that ‘Two
Temples’ was only made by Spode. However, there were no
copyright laws for most of the nineteenth century, and many
manufacturers copied their competitors’ designs.
• Assuming that the most common colour for a print is the Figure 4.36: ‘Asiatic Pheasant’ pattern.
only colour that print will occur in. For example, while the ‘Willow’ (figure 4.35) and ‘Asiatic Pheasant’ (figure 4.36)
majority of vessels in the Rhine pattern are grey, and the are probably the best known, though minor variations of the
majority of Two Temples are pale blue, there are examples centre pattern can occur with both these prints.
of both of these in several other colours. These two patterns
are hardly unique in this regard.
• Being misled by variations in a pattern’s centre print. The
centre pattern can change across a pattern series, or even
across examples of the same pattern (this is particularly
important with ‘Rhine’ – see figures 4.32, 4.33, 4.34). While
this is not 100 per cent foolproof, patterns are thus often more
easily identified through their rim patterns, which remain far
more consistent across a pattern or pattern series.

It is impossible in a guide of this nature to even

begin to scratch the surface of the huge variety of styles and
designs of transfer prints. They appear in astonishing variety
on almost every conceivable form and ware type (though
they are most common on refined earthenware). The
Figure 4.37: ‘Two Temples’ pattern.
illustrated examples in this guide are the most common
transfer print types known in Australia.

44
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

‘Two Temples’ (figure 4.37) has often – inaccurately – been

referred to as ‘Brosely’, and is just as frequently mistaken
for ‘Willow’; ‘Brosely’ more correctly refers to a subtle sub-
type of ‘Two Temples’ (Copeland 1990: 53-66). Note that
the ‘Two Temples’ border is quite different from ‘Willow’,
the pattern is usually a paler blue, and the buildings are on
the left.

Figure 4.40: ‘Albion’ pattern.

‘Albion’ (figure 4.40) appears to be most common in

New South Wales and South Australia, but also occurs in
other states (though it is uncommon in Victoria).

Figure 4.38: ‘Rhine’ pattern.

‘Rhine’ (figure 4.38) can also cause problems; it is worth

adding, however, that it was also far from the only pattern
to feature a castle, lake, boat, and trees in the centre – this
was a common motif on romantic prints.

Figure 4.41: Marble-type pattern whiteware chamberpot.

Marble-type patterns (figure 4.41) are another source of

confusion; while they do not depict scenes, and can look
as if they are painted, they are very much transfer prints.
These marble-type patterns occur in a wide variety of
colours, and flow variants are common.

Figure 4.39: ‘Fibre’ pattern whiteware bowl.

The ‘Fibre’ pattern (figure 4.29) is the source of

occasional confusion; the term ‘fibre’ should only be
applied to dendritic fern-like transfer prints with no
further printed features. Where shells or other marine
motifs appear, the pattern is probably some variant on a
‘seaweed’ theme (there are too many of these to list here),
and where there are cartouches with houses, the pattern is
most probably Albion. Figure 4.42: Undecorated whiteware plate.

45
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
undecorated: Since the absence of decoration requires a
conscious decision and choice on the part of the
manufacturer, ‘undecorated’ is treated here as a decorative
category. Undecorated materials (figure 4.42) are
typically assumed to be the least expensive vessels
available (Miller 1991a; 1991b).
It is important to draw a distinction between
undecorated vessels and undecorated fragments. A shell-
edged vessel, for example, is only decorated along the rim,
and when broken produces far more undecorated
fragments than decorated fragments. Thus an undecorated
sherd does not necessarily come from an undecorated
vessel. Databases should allow for the presence of both
‘undecorated’ and ‘none present’ categories under
decoration. The former refers to items from vessels known
to be undecorated, while the latter refers to undecorated
sherds that may possibly come from decorated vessels.
This usage will allow for this important distinction to be
made in the catalogue, though note that in some cases it
will only be possible to make the distinction when
mending has occurred. Where this distinction is not clear,
the ‘none present’ category is the safer term to use.
FORM
This section deals with the terminology of the most
common forms of British ceramics recovered
archaeologically, though one or two more unusual forms
recovered from Australian sites are also included. The
identification of vessel form presents quite different issues
from ware and decoration identification in that the names
we use for the most common vessels in everyday life today
Figure 4.43: Names for Plate/Platter and Cup/Bowl Parts (adapted from Blake and Freeman 1998).
46
remain largely applicable to the most common vessels
recovered from archaeological sites – though unusual late
eighteenth- and nineteenth-century forms such as ‘offal
dishes’ and ‘butter pats’ no doubt still provide plenty of
potential for confusion. Thus while a different approach
is often necessary for sites dating from pre-industrial
periods, there is little need to reinvent the typological
wheel for the period relevant to the European settlement of
Australia. The main issues of terminology are in fact often
in the naming of the parts of vessels, rather than the vessels
themselves. The terminology used in this section thus
rests on two separate foundations: our own terminology, as
used in the present day, and archaeological typologies,
such as those of Beaudry et al (1991) and Blake and
Freeman (1998).
Figure 4.43 illustrates the correct technical names
for the different parts of a plate and platter on the one hand,
and a cup or a bowl on the other. Figure 4.44 provides
vessel profiles for bowls, cups (those with handles, and
those without), saucers, side plates (also known as
‘muffins’ or ‘twifflers’), and plates and platters. As noted,
the present chapter does not attempt to list every ceramic
form that might occur at an archaeological site, but
combined with a few other common and readily identifiable
forms, such as teapots, jugs, and chamberpots, these figures
will aid in the identification of the overwhelming majority
of vessels likely to be found in a typical assemblage.
Despite this pictorial guide, it may nonetheless
prove useful to provide definitions of both basic and less
common forms. Note that the following typology should
not be read as implying that function automatically follows
form – but here we are getting ahead of ourselves.

Figure 4.44: A Selection of Common Vessel Profiles (adapted from Blake and Freeman 1998).
Function will be covered in more detail in Chapter 5. An
excellent pictorial source for many more unusual forms
than are included here are the two volumes of the Coysh
and Henrywood Dictionary of Blue and White Printed
Pottery (1982; 1986); here pictures can be found for
unusual and uncommon forms including toast racks, dog
dishes, and urine bottles.
Figure 4.45: Undecorated whiteware basin rim.
basin: Usually associated with hygiene and cleaning,
basins (or washbasins) are large, usually ovoid (but
sometimes circular) vessels which would have been filled
with water for washing or cleaning. They were often made
in matching sets with ewers. Basins are usually found in
plain or lightly decorated whiteware (figure 4.45), but more
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
elaborate transfer-printed whiteware examples are also
known, and a significant minority were made from
yellowware.
bottle: Vessel typically used for storing liquid. This basic
category includes both larger bottles for beer and wine (etc.),
broader-lipped blacking bottles, and smaller ink and
medicine bottles; further subdivision along these lines can
occur as deemed necessary. Ceramic bottles, unlike jugs,
feature a cylindrical body and lack handles. Glass bottles
are far more common than ceramic bottles (and occur in a
wider variety of shapes), and those ceramic bottles that do
occur are almost exclusively made from stoneware. Though
there are some minor exceptions to this rule, bottles differ
from jars in being narrow-mouthed, and having a shoulder
(though note that blacking bottles have broader mouths, and
some jars have a small, narrow shoulder).
bowl: A fairly straightforward term, though a distinction
should be drawn between soup plates (which have a marly)
and ordinary bowls (which do not – see figure 4.44). It is
also recommended that a distinction be drawn between large
utilitarian bowls, typically made from coarse earthenwares
and used for the preparation and storage of food, and smaller
tableware bowls used for serving and consuming food. The
latter are most often associated with liquid-based foods.
Bowls are one of the most common form types, and occur in
virtually all wares and decorations.
47
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Figure 4.46: Undecorated hard-paste porcelain can.
can: Small (c.5-6 cm high and 6-6 1/2 cm in diameter),
mug-shaped vessels for coffee, usually dating from the late
eighteenth-century through the 1800s, made in both
earthenware and bone china (figure 4.46). These are
sometimes found as part of children’s sets (not toy-sized,
but for children to actually use) but they were also made
for adults to drink coffee (Teresita Majewski, pers. comm.
06/2004). These vessels do occur on Australian sites,
though they are not necessarily always separately
identified.
Figure 4.47: White granite candlestick.
candlestick: An object designed to carry a candle, usually
featuring a hollow raised central section (used to hold the
candle) in the centre of a shallow dish (used to catch
melted wax). They often also include a handle used to
carry the candlestick (figure 4.47).
castor: In the Chambers dictionary definition,’a vessel
with a perforated top for sprinkling’ – or what many
archaeologists would be tempted to call a salt or pepper
48
shaker. However, in the past these vessels were used to
dispense a wider range of seasonings, hence ‘castor
sugar’. While these objects (which are in any case
uncommon archaeologically) are sometimes described as
as ‘salt shakers’, ‘castor’ would be a more functionally
neutral and technically accurate term.
chamberpot: In Chambers dictionary, ‘a bedroom vessel
for urine’. Chamberpots obviously precede the niceties of
widespread indoor plumbing, and are fairly common
within historical assemblages. Chamberpots resemble
large bowls with bulbous bodies and flat marleys. They
also occasionally have handles. Chamberpots occur in a
wide variety of ware types, but their decorations are
typically on the less expensive end of the scale. There are
exceptions, and transfer-printed examples are not
unknown.
Figure 4.48: Children’s plate fragments; transfer-printed
whiteware with moulded rim.
Figure 4.49: Saucer with child-related pattern; – this green
transfer-printed and green banded whiteware saucer
demonstrates how patterns typically associated with childhood
need not always be restricted to children’s vessels. The centre
pattern here is typical of the type of transfer print typically
associated with children’s plates; that it is found on a full-sized
saucer complicates the direct association.
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

children’s forms: Many vessels, such as plates and cups,

often come in sizes intended for the use of children.
These are frequently decorated with educational and/or
‘moralising’ messages (Riley 1991 – figure 4.48).
Children’s vessels can be important diagnostically, but
care should be taken not to assume that every small form
was used by children (see can), or that every child-related
decoration is on a vessel intended for children (figure
4.49).

colander: ‘A perforated vessel used as a strainer in

cookery’, according to Chambers dictionary. These
vessels most often take the form of large bowls with
perforated sides and bases. Nineteenth-century examples
appear to be most common in yellowware.

creamer: These are small vessels otherwise similar to a

jug, and are typically associated with holding the cream
for tea-drinking.

Figure 4.51: ‘Brussels’ pattern transfer-printed whiteware

drainer, front.

Figure 4.50: Small undecorated whiteware cup.

cup: Cups differ from mugs in that cups feature a curved
or sloping body with a wider rim than base (figure 4.50),
while mugs have a cylindrical body with rims and bases
of very similar diameter. There are variations in cup
forms (for example, in the body curve or
presence/absence of handles), some of which appear to
have impacted on the relative value of the cup (Miller
1991b: 15-21). Mustache cups have also been found in
Australia. Following the advent of industrialisation, cups
are typically porcelain or refined earthenware.
Figure 4.52: ‘Brussels’ pattern transfer-printed drainer,
undecorated reverse.
drainer: ‘A flat slab pierced with a pattern of small drain
holes and usually one larger central hole, made to fit into
the well of a dish [or platter]. They were intended for
serving boiled fish so that excess water could drain into
the dish beneath, but were also probably used for serving
meat’ (Coysh and Henrywood 1982: 115). These vessels
are surprisingly common in Australia, and are – quite
understandably – likely to be mistaken for colanders.
Unlike colanders, however, not only is the surface
completely flat (except for the holes), but the vessel is
also almost always whiteware rather than the yellowware
typically used for colanders (figures 4.51, 4.52). The
drain holes are themselves often arranged into decorative
patterns. They are sometimes associated with matching
platters.
49
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
ewer: Essentially an oversized jug, ewers were often made
(and are often recovered) as part of a matching set with
basins. Ewers were thus typically used to pour water into
the basin during cleaning, washing, and related hygiene
activities.
flatwares: A generic term sometimes used to collectively
describe plates, platters, saucers, and similarly flat
vessels. In cases where the specific form of a vessel is
otherwise unidentifiable, it will often be possible to at least
make the potentially useful distinction that the original
vessel was a flat form. When this is the case, the term
‘unidentified flat’ can be used to describe the item in
question instead of simply writing ‘unidentified’. See also
hollowwares.
figure: A decorative figurine or statuette. In most cases
these will be separate decorative items, but confusion may
be caused by elaborately moulded items such as
tablewares or lid finials, which can occasionally be
confused with figures by the unwary.
hollowware: A generic term sometimes used to
collectively describe bowls, cups, tureens, and similarly
hollow vessels. In cases where the specific form of a
vessel is otherwise unidentifiable, it will often be possible
to at least make the potentially useful distinction that the
original vessel was at least a hollow form. When this is the
case, the term ‘unidentified hollow’ can be used to
describe the item in question instead of simply writing
‘unidentified’. See also flatwares.
jar: A small storage vessel, usually cylindrical in form,
with a base and rim of more or less equal diameter. Note
that polygonal and elaborately moulded jars were also
made in the second half of the nineteenth century. Jars
differ from bottles in that the lip is either the same
diameter – or nearly as wide as – the cylindrical body, and
usually lack a shoulder.
jug: This is a less straightforward term than may initially
appear to be the case. This term is typically used to refer
to handled vessels traditionally used for storing and
pouring liquids. There is some disagreement in the
literature over whether or not the category should be
further subdivided. Beaudry et al’s POTS typology of
seventeenth-century Chesapeake vessel forms draws a
distinction between ‘pitchers’, which have a flared neck
and pouring spout, and ‘jugs’, which have a cylindrical
neck and may or may not have a spout (Beaudry et al 1991:
23-24). Kelly’s discussion of nineteenth-century Scottish
jugs, however, draws no distinction, and simply states that
‘what are called jugs in Great Britain are known as pitchers
in the USA’ (Kelly 1999: 179). Kelly is the more relevant
source for nineteenth-century materials, especially as
POTS is designed for non-industrial coarse earthenwares.
Thus in this guide, ‘jug’ and ‘pitcher’ are considered to be
two different names for the same vessel. See also ewer and
creamer.
50
Figure 4.53: ‘Coral Border’ transfer-printed pattern bone china
lid.
ladle: Neither a particularly common nor an unusually rare
type, ladles are only mentioned in passing here in order to
note a slight tendency amongst inexperienced cataloguers
to identify ladle rims as cup fragments. Ladle bowls are
both shallower and have a smaller diameter than a typical
cup.
lids: This category is not included here in order to define
what a lid (figure 4.53) is (something which hopefully
even the most inexperienced cataloguer is aware of), but
rather to discuss what to do with a vessel count if said
count contains lids for which there are no other matching
vessels. It should be remembered that there is no
definitive rule stating that a nineteenth-century household
would only use lids that matched the vessel they were
covering. It is in fact possible to construct an argument
whereby a ‘poor’ household might be less likely to have
matching lids for their vessels. Ultimately, there is no hard
and fast rule to use in deciding whether a lone lid
represents a separate vessel or was the mismatched
covering to an already identified vessel – but this is an
issue which cataloguers and analysts should be aware of.
milkpans: Large, shallow, hollow vessels ‘roughly in the
shape of an inverted, truncated cone, 10 in (255mm) or
more in diameter. Used for cooling milk, as a wash basin,
and probably for cooking’ (Beaudry et al 1991: 28). The
overwhelming majority of these vessels are made of
redware, though yellowware examples should also be
expected from c.1830-1840 onwards. Examples recovered
from Australian sites will often be locally made (see
particularly Casey 1999), and are therefore not covered by
this book. However, the presence of British examples
cannot be entirely ruled out; this will be particularly true in
the early years of settlement in each colony, before local
pottery production became extensive.
milsey: A highly unusual form, only included here
because an example was recovered from the Lake Innes
site (Port Macquarie, NSW). A milsey is ‘a small circular

strainer, sometimes with a handle, designed to rest on a
teacup … Before the days of refrigeration milk was often
boiled to keep it from turning sour. A skin would form on
the surface and the milsey was used to strain this off when
adding milk to the liquid tea’ (Coysh and Henrywood
1986: 138).
mug: A vessel form identified with the consumption of
liquid. Unlike cups, mugs feature a cylindrical body with
a rim and base of near-equal diameter. A distinction is
also sometimes made between mugs and cans.
mustache cup: Relics of a more hirsute age, these are
simply ordinary cups with a protective barrier placed on
the inside just below the rim in order to protect the
drinker’s mustache. A small hole is pierced into the
barrier adjacent to the cup’s body in order to permit the
mustachioed gentlemen to actually drink the cup’s
contents. Examples have been recovered from Australian
sites.
pickle dish: Other than self-evidently referring to a small
dish for serving pickles, this term is specifically
associated with small dishes with a leaf- or shell-like
form, often with ridges or veins running across the body.
Pickle dishes are uncommon, but have been recovered
from Australia, and can be challenging to identify from
sherds (See fig 4.19 under decal).
pitcher: See jug.
plate: A flat vessel traditionally used for the consumption
of relatively solid foods – though some eighteenth- and
nineteenth-century plates are deep enough to look like
shallow soup dishes by modern standards; the latter are
often called soup plates. Plates are either circular or
polygonal, although even polygonal examples will usually
have circular centres and bases. Larger vessels with ovoid
rims or centres/bases are not plates but platters. Plates
come in a wide range of sizes, from a tiny 3 inches (just
under 8cm) to over a foot (over 30cm) in diameter; smaller
plates are often referred to as side plates. In the historical
period, most plates are refined earthenwares, particularly
creamware, pearlware, and whiteware.
Figure 4.54: Transfer-printed whiteware platter; unidentified
floral transfer print on flat-sided polygonal or oval platter.
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Figure 4.55: Transfer-printed bone china saucers; these
elaborate Chinese-influenced (or ‘Chinoiserie’) transfer-printed
saucers are in fact English bone china.
platter: A large flat vessel traditionally intended for
serving or presenting foods (figure 4.54). In appearance,
platters are essentially large, ovoid (or polygonal ovoid)
plates. They are sometimes associated with drainers.
saucer: A flat to shallow hollow vessel traditionally seen
as the base for a cup, but often used for a wide variety of
other functions (figure 4.55). Note the Chambers
dictionary definition: ‘orig[inally] a dish for salt or sauce;
a shallow dish esp[ecially] one placed under a tea or
coffee cup’. Even after the cup-saucer connection was
firmly established, saucers were often used as cooking
moulds and measures (see in particular Scott 1997).
Saucers are typically smaller than all but the very smallest
plates, and usually lack the marlys and shoulders so
typical of plates, leading to a quite different vessel profile
(see figure 4.44). Note that the presence or absence of a
central cup well (the central depression where a matching
cup would be placed) should not be considered
diagnostic: some saucers have cup wells, others do not.
storage: A generic term sometimes used to describe a
range of large utilitarian vessels used for storing food and
other materials. Most of these vessels are coarse
earthenwares, but a significant minority are stoneware. A
useful category to use for large vessels of otherwise
indeterminate form which should perhaps nonetheless be
treated with caution by those concerned about pre-
assigning function in the basic database. In Australia, this
category of vessels will usually be locally-made, and are
thus outside the scope of the present book.
tablewares: A generic term often used to group together
forms typically associated with the serving and/or
consumption of food and drink, such as plates, bowls,
tureens, teawares, etc. Most – but not all – of these
vessels will consist of refined earthenwares and
porcelain.
teapot: Hollow vessels with spout and handle used for the
brewing and pouring of tea, coffee, chocolate, and similar
drinks, though pots made specifically for coffee and
chocolate may also be found (particularly with eighteenth-
century assemblages) For the most part, teapots are directly
analogous to their modern counterparts. They can occur in
51
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
earthenware, porcelain and stoneware, and in many ware types
– though stoneware examples in Australia will be restricted to
black basalt.
teawares: Cups and saucers only – not teapots, milseys, etc.
Also sometimes referred to as just ‘teas’ – the original potters’
collective term for these vessels (Miller 1991b: 15).
Teawares have often proven to be a useful separate analytical
category when studying issues of meaning, such as gender
and domesticity (Lawrence 1998; Wall 1995) or regional
identity (Brooks 2003: 132-135).
tureen: A large hollow serving vessel, usually with a flat
(sometimes moulded) rim and frequently with a lid, and
sometimes with a foot or pedestal under the main body.
Tureens are usually ovoid, but some circular examples also
exist. Those vessels lacking the foot or pedestal, but
otherwise matching this description are perhaps more
accurately catalogued as ‘basins’, but not all analysts make
this distinction, which obviously complicates further
comparative analysis – particularly when the term basin is
restricted to or also used for those vessels more usually
associated with hygiene activities. Furthermore, it can be
difficult for even an expert to identify the presence or absence
of a foot or pedestal if the only surviving fragment is from a
rim or lid.
unidentified forms: Even the most experienced cataloguer
will be forced to admit that the original form of some objects
is unidentifiable. This is particularly true of highly
fragmented assemblages. Note that there is a slight difference
between ‘unidentified’ and ‘unidentifiable’ - the former holds
forth the possibility that the fragment might be identified in
the future, whereas the second postulates that it will never be
identified. In any case, there is no shame in writing
‘unidentified’ under the form section of a catalogue.
But unidentified vessels can be grouped by slightly
more diagnostic categories. Even if the specific form is
unidentifiable, it can be possible to identify whether the
original vessel was flat (such as plate or platter) or hollow
(such as a cup or bowl). In these cases, it may prove useful
to include ‘unidentified flat’ or ‘unidentified hollow’
categories in a database.
Marly fragments (sherds from flat rims) are perhaps
the source of greatest confusion in form identification,
particularly so for otherwise unidentified forms. The majority
of marly fragments will be from flat vessels such as plates or
platters, but this is not universally true. Some serving vessels
and tureens also have flat rims, and the presence of part of the
shoulder and side is sometimes necessary to make a definitive
identification.
utilitarian: A generic term often used to group together forms
typically associated with the preparation and/or storage of
food, such as milkpans, bottles, and jars. It can also include
chamberpots. Most – but not all – of these vessels will consist
of coarse earthenwares, yellowware, and stoneware.
worked pieces: Occasionally, small pieces of ceramic may be
found that have been worked into other forms. Most common
of these worked objects are ‘gaming pieces’. Any such objects
52
should be analysed on a case by case basis, and are mentioned
here largely to highlight the possibility that every so often the
break on a ceramic sherd will be intentional rather than
accidental – though these items are at least as likely to be the
result of fashioning something from a previously-broken
fragment.
DATE
The following section is not designed to offer a
comprehensive guide to dating ceramics – a timeline of
ceramics technology, keyed into important events in
Australian and (where relevant) international history may be
found in Appendix B, and guides to more general
archaeological dating techniques can be found in any basic
text to the discipline (eg Renfrew and Bahn 1996: 111-162).
Miller (2000) has produced a highly useful guide to the dating
of a variety of artefact types, not just ceramics, though it
should be noted that his dates are often more relevant to North
America than they will be for Australia. The goal of the
present section is to discuss a couple of directly relevant
dating techniques, clarify a couple of dating misconceptions
and/or ambiguities, and finally to offer an in-depth discussion
of the frequently-encountered Mean Ceramic Date (MCD)
formula.
Many of the relevant issues can be cleared up quite
quickly. Just as the identification of ceramics from this
period requires a knowledge of both ware and decoration, so
does the identification of date. The cross-referencing of
material/ware dates of manufacture with the dates of
manufacture of specific decorations can often provide tighter
dates than by using ware or decoration alone. This is even
more true when the dates of operation of a vessel’s
manufacturer are also known. For example, a polychrome
transfer print (c.1840+) on whiteware (c.1820+) on a plate
made by Thomas Godwin (active 1834-1854) must date from
Figure 4.56: Selected Makers’ Marks; a selection of maker’s marks on
whiteware. Clockwise from top: Pinder, Bourne and Hope (1851-
1862) flow blue printed mark; Elijah Jones impressed mark dated to
September 1838; typical printed registry mark.

c.1840 to 1854 – the period between the latest start date
and the earliest end date – not from 1820 to the present.
Makers’ marks in general provide one of the
most useful tools for the dating of ceramics. These marks
– whether printed, embossed, or painted – were placed on
the vessel in order to identify the manufacturer who
produced the vessel in question (figure 4.56). While
usually placed on the base of a vessel, they also occur on
the exterior (particularly on stoneware bottles), and on the
underside of plate marlys. Makers’ marks are rare in the
eighteenth century, but they become extremely common
in the nineteenth century, and will therefore often prove
invaluable to the Australian researcher. By far the best
source for dating individual British manufacturers
remains Godden’s indispensable Encyclopaedia of British
Pottery and Porcelain Marks (1991). While not
completely comprehensive (a couple of Scottish
manufacturers in particular seem to be missing), it is as
close to being so as we have any right to expect, and
should be an automatic part of any historical archaeology
lab library. Other relevant potentially useful volumes
written by antiques experts include those by Kovel and
Kovel (1995) and Kowalsky and Kowalsky (1999). An
in-depth archaeological discussion of this topic may also
be found in Majewski’s 2002 Encyclopedia of Historical
Archaeology article on makers’ marks.
Registry marks are a very specific type of vessel
mark and are extremely useful for dating – but are also the
source of some dating misconceptions. These take the
form of diamond-shaped marks (usually printed, but
sometimes impressed) on the base of vessels, and were
used between 1842 and 1883. They list the day, month,
and year on which the vessel’s pattern and/or shape was
registered at the London Patent Office (Godden 1991:
526). A key to decoding these marks may be found at the
end of the date timeline in Appendix B. It is sometimes
assumed that the date on a registration mark indicates the
date on which a vessel was manufactured. This is not the
case. While a registration mark will allow the
identification of a vessel’s terminus post quem to the day,
the mark’s date only indicates the beginning date of
manufacture. In all probability, the vessel was actually
made after this date, and fixing an end date will, as is
normal, usually require using data gained from
identifying the vessel’s manufacturer, ware, and/or
decoration. From 1884, registered designs were
numbered consecutively from ‘1’, and these registry
numbers are sometimes found on ceramics (Godden
1991: 526). If a vessel features a mark consisting of the
prefix ‘Rd.’ or ‘Rd. No.’, this refers to the registry number
– these may be dated to within five years by using the
dating guide in Appendix B.
An examination of the uses and misuses of
South’s Mean Ceramic Date formula (South 1977: 217-
188), hereafter referred to as the MCD, requires a more
in-depth discussion. While no longer nearly as common,
up until the early 1990s this was a frequently-used dating
method in the North American (particularly east coast)
literature, and a brief examination of its potential uses and
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
misuses may prove valuable to the Australian researcher.
Another in-depth critique of the method has also been
offered by Adams (2003), and while it has a slightly
different focus, the issues he raises are complementary to
those raised in this discussion. As was mentioned in
Chapter 1, South’s system ostensibly permits the
archaeologist to calculate a mean date of occupation for a
site based on the median dates of manufacture of a site’s
pottery. On a practical level, the mean ceramic date is
supposed to work as follows: a vessel count is calculated
for the site (South originally suggested using sherd
counts, but most reports today use a more accurate vessel
count). Each ware type’s median date of manufacture is
multiplied by the vessel count for that type. The figures
for each ware type are then added together, and then
divided by the total number of vessels. This final figure
is theoretically the mean date of occupation for the site
(South 1977: 217-218). For example, the mean date of
creamware (c.1762-c.1820) is 1791, while the mean date
of pearlware (c.1780-c.1830) is 1805. Thus if a site has
six creamware vessels, and eight pearlware vessels (a
total of 14 vessels), the mean date is 1799:
(1791*6)+(1805*8)=25186, and 25186/14=1799. Cross-
referencing ware dates with decoration dates can provide
much tighter medians than this quick example provides.
The first significant MCD flaw is methodological,
and is more or less specific to the nineteenth century (but
therefore also the majority of Australian historic sites). Many
of the ware and decoration types common in the nineteenth
century are still in use today. Examples include whiteware,
transfer prints, decals, annular industrial slip, and so on.
While in some cases it may be possible to postulate a
beginning and end date for a ware type based on stylistic
variations in decoration technique or known manufacturers’
dates, many nineteenth-century vessels or vessel groups are
going to have dates along the lines of ‘1840+’, or even
‘1820+’. While some practitioners have attempted to deal
with this issue by assigning arbitrary end dates for MCD
calculation, this can cause some highly unusual statistical
anomalies. In short, the MCD works best with assemblages
where the vessels can be assigned both beginning and end
dates of manufacture, which will usually mean assemblages
which pre-date 1820.
A second MCD flaw is economic. The MCD
makes no allowance for regional variation in availability,
acquisition and consumption, and instead implicitly assumes
that a single mathematical formula can account for all of these
issues, irrespective of a site’s geographical, social, or
economic context. While obviously no site can acquire a
ware type before the invention of that type, it would be
dangerous to assume that each ware type is introduced
everywhere uniformly, peaks in popularity uniformly, or
stops being acquired uniformly – cessation of production
does not translate into an immediate cessation of acquisition.
For example, Ewins’ study of the dynamics of the
Staffordshire ceramics trade amply demonstrates just how
unevenly wares were distributed across the American
continent; different vessel types did not arrive in different
locations simultaneously (Ewins 1997). This issue is transfer
53
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Australian archaeologist should assume that wares and
decorations were introduced in far away colonies on the other
side of the earth simultaneously with those wares’ introduction
in Britain and North America (though it should be noted that
new materials could reach Australia remarkably rapidly [eg.
Allen 1978]).
Table 4.1: Unimodal probability curves for 19th-century transfer
prints (adapted frpm Samford 1997)
A final problem with the MCD is mathematical.
This is a fundamental problem, as it is central to the
MCD’s whole theoretical raison d’etre. In essence, the
MCD is not a straight mean (or average) date, but rather a
mean of median dates. The MCD is, in essence, an
algebraic expression of a unimodal probability curve with
a peak of probability occurring in the direct centre of the
curve, where the x-axis defines the date, and the y-axis
defines frequency of occurrence (in this case frequency of
manufacture and/or popularity). Mathematical
technicalities aside, the MCD assumes that all ceramics
distribution curves look like the first graph in table 4.1.
However, ceramic probability curves are never so
predictable, as is amply demonstrated by the real ceramics
probability/popularity curves (adapted from Samford
1997) in the same table. The median date of manufacture
for a type thus only rarely coincides with the mean date of
manufacture. Then there is the simple point raised by Noël
Hume that identifying context through the use of start and
end dates, rather than median dates, is often considerably
faster than using an MCD (cited in Adams 2003: 46).
54
Reality fails to match the theoretical underpinnings for the
simple reason that artefacts are not produced in ideal
unimodal probability curves as human trends, preferences,
and tastes do not adhere to such a rigid mathematical
assumption. As the MCD does not calculate the actual
mean date of ceramic occurrence, but rather the mean of
the median dates of the ceramic types in an assemblage,
significant distortions will occur when using this method.
This distortion is unpredictable and will vary depending on
the types of ceramics found in an assemblage, but given
that this observation undermines the entire basis of the
MCD, it cannot be dismissed. Short of seriating virtually
every available ware and decoration dating between 1750
and 1900 and calculating actual mean dates from that data,
it is difficult to see how this problem can be resolved. It is
possible that calculating separate means for assemblage
start dates and end dates, so as to generate separate ‘mean
start dates’ and ‘mean end dates’ may overcome some of
these objections. Likewise, extending the MCD to all
artefact types may provide a broader-based, and thus less
flawed, median date. Neither of these methods, however,
have been tested in Australia as of this writing.
The serious flaws discussed above will, in most
cases, preclude the use of the MCD in Australia for its
original stated purpose: actually calculating the mean date
of occupation for a site. Despite this, the MCD may prove
to have its uses for investigating other issues, particularly
time-lag. This is the concept that the acquisition and
discarding of ceramics will not match the date of
manufacture, and in some cases may lag behind by years
or even decades. Adams (2003) has offered a far more
extensive discussion of the implications and importance of
time lag than can be offered here, but there can be little
doubt that identifying the extent of time lag can sometimes
provide useful analytical data. For example, Allen’s study
of the ceramics from Port Essington (NT) demonstrated
that time lag at this small colonial outpost was ‘as little as
two or three years’ (1978: 145), something considered to
be quite surprising given the settlement’s isolation. Where
the occupation dates for a site are already known, it may
well prove possible to quantify the nature of a site’s time
lag by examining discrepancies between the known dates
of occupation and the assemblage MCD. For example,
there may be important analytical implications if the mean
dates of ceramics found in a context associated with poor
inhabitants lag significantly behind those associated with
an adjacent, wealthier site. There might be equally
important implications for studies of supply and status if
those same two hypothetical sites featured no difference in
time lag. Ultimately, the MCD is only a tool, not an end in
itself, and like all tools it can be used both wisely and
poorly.
One final potential dating tool – but one that is
currently of limited utility in Australia – is observation of
stylistic change in decoration and form. The discussion of
potentially even more of a problem in Australia, where our
understanding of the local ceramics trade is still in its infancy.
One thing is evident: while testing the assumptions underlying
the MCD for Australia would be an entirely valid area of
research, no prints under ‘decoration’ above mentioned
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

work by Samford (1997) on using stylistic variation and

change over time as a means through which to date
ceramics.

Figure 4.57: The Evolution of Plate Profiles Over Time

(adapted from Moir 1997)

Majewski and Schiffer (2001) have also looked at this

issue closely. Moir (1997) has meanwhile examined how
stylistic variation in plate profiles can be dated between
the eighteenth and early twentieth centuries (figure 4.57).
All of these approaches are potentially of great value to
Australian historical archaeology, but until a greater
understanding of Australian colonial tastes, preferences,
and trade is gained, it should not be automatically
assumed that the US-based observations of Samford,
Moir, and Majewski and Schiffer necessarily transfer
directly to Australian contexts. It might well turn out that
they do indeed apply, but further research needs to be
undertaken before researchers can apply this potentially
valuable dating approach to Australian contexts.

It should be stressed in closing that while

ceramics are an excellent resource for dating sites and
contexts, they are not necessarily always the best source
of dates for individual sites and contexts. This is a book
on ceramics, so it is only natural that this discussion has
focused on that material, but due attention should also be
paid to other potential sources – such as glass, coins, nails,
etc. – when dating the entirety of an assemblage.

55
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Chapter 5:
Analysis and Interpretation
This chapter is intended as an introductory guide to the
interpretive issues of economy, status, function, and
meaning, as put forward in the analytical model featured
in Chapter 2. Particular attention is paid towards
correcting common analytical misconceptions within the
Australian literature. Less attention is paid towards
recommending specific courses of action with analysis –
as was noted in the introduction to this book, there is no
intent here to set out a roadmap that encourages a ceramics
analyst into following one sole straight and narrow
‘correct’ analytical path. This is not to say that a
knowledge of the underlying theory behind archaeological
methodology is unimportant, but simply to observe that a
knowledge of – or an obsession with – theory should not
get in the way of everyday practicality. That said, there is
also no use in denying the biases of the present author,
whose preference for the symbolic over the functional in
analysis is a matter of record (Orser 2003: 446).
As was noted in Chapter 2, ‘economy’, ‘status’,
‘function’ and ‘meaning’ are inter-related issues. Dividing
these analytical categories into rigidly separate categories
is a somewhat artificial exercise. For example, the simple
cost of a teacup is affected by wider economic
circumstances, influences how it might be used by a
household, and impacts upon the status and wider social
ideologies through which that teacup is perceived. When
reading the following chapter, it may therefore prove just
as helpful to think of how the different categories are
related than to conceptualise them as entirely separate
entities.
ECONOMY
‘Economy’ refers not only to the specific monetary value
of objects, but also to how and why objects arrive in a
region. As such, it incorporates by no means mutually
exclusive issues of both cost and trade. Of particular
interest here is an understanding of how and why British
ceramics reached Australia, and how much they were
worth once they did reach these shores.
As of this writing, historical archaeologists’
understanding of Australia’s role within international trade
networks is still developing. Our understanding of
ceramics’ place within those networks is even less
complete, though the broader role of the British Empire in
furthering British economic interests and increasing the
wealth of Britain is well understood. Staniforth has done
some particularly important work in this regard (Staniforth
1995, 2003b; Staniforth and Nash 1998), though his focus
has typically been on Chinese, rather than British,
ceramics. Valuable work on British trade routes and the
presence of British ceramics has also previously been
carried out by Birmingham (1988b) and Atkins (2001).
Klose and Malan (eg 2000) have examined similar – and
relevant – issues in relation to British South Africa.
56
Lawrence’s discussion of a need for a global perspective
on British culture within the context of the nineteenth-
century British Empire (Lawrence 2003: 20) is of more
direct interest. Particularly important in this context is
Lawrence’s observation that ‘the independent United
States in the nineteenth century … differed from the
British dominions’ in terms of their material culture.
Ewins (1997) has previously undertaken a study
of trans-Atlantic trade networks that undoubtedly
expanded our understanding of differences in ceramics
fashionability and preferences between Britain and the
United States, but this did little for our understanding of
how that divergence might be relevant to or manifest itself
in Australia. Ewins’ work at least provides some
parameters for setting forth hypotheses about Australian
trade and preferences. For example, the main divergence
between Britain and the United States occurred in the
1840s, when minimally decorated and relief-moulded
materials such as white granite replaced colourful transfer
prints as the most fashionable wares in the United States
during a period when French porcelains were popular in
the USA (Ewins 1997: 23-33). Meanwhile decorated
materials remained common in Britain – something borne
out by what little work has taken place on nineteenth-
century domestic sites in Britain (eg Brooks 2000: 59-92;
Kelly 1996). Within these parameters, Lawrence’s work
takes on additional significance, as it seems that British
colonies such as Australia and South Africa adhere to the
British ‘pattern’ of colourful decorated materials in the
years after 1850, as opposed to the American pattern of
lightly decorated materials (Lawrence 2003: 23-26; see
also Klose and Malan 2000). While somewhat
preliminary, these observations appear to stress the need
for an understanding of economic issues in Australian
historical archaeology within the context of Australia’s
role within the British Empire, rather than the trans-
Atlantic contexts that (quite rightly) inform so much
American work on this subject.
Yet if Australia’s colonial economy is
undoubtedly part of the British Empire, it is also important
to understand those factors which made Australia unique
even while it remained connected to and affected by the
outside world. An example taken from ongoing research
will suffice to illustrate these points in the current work.
This example is the potential impact of the American Civil
War on Australian assemblages. As noted, Lawrence had
previously hypothesised that white granite would be rare
in Australia; colourful, decorated wares should
predominate in this part of the world. However, the
situation in Australia is more complex than was perhaps
first imagined. White granite does in fact turn up in
Australia, but inconsistently. At the Viewbank site (VIC),
it might be up to a fifth of the assemblage. Much smaller
amounts have been recovered from the Hyde Park
Barracks in Sydney (Brooks 2002: 56), Casselden Place
(Melbourne CBD, VIC), and the Quebec street site (Port
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Adelaide, SA). A single white granite vessel has also been
identified at the Lake Innes site (NSW). While it was not
correctly identified at the time, white granite also occurs
in the assemblages from Short’s National Hotel
(Gisborne, VIC), Corinella (VIC), and Captain Mills’
Cottage (Port Fairy, VIC) – though post-excavation
culling at these assemblages makes it impossible to
quantify the relative amount. All of the sites just named
have components from the relevant 1845-1890 time
period. However, no white granite at all has been
recovered from the temporally relevant contexts at either
the Lake Innes site (Port Macquarie, NSW), or Port
Arthur, Tasmania.
Table 5.1: Liverpool Pottery Exports by Region - Last 6 Months of 1860
1.1% 0.3% 0.5%
0.0% 0.3%
5.4% 5.5%
0.4%
10.7%
According to figures collated from the
Staffordshire Advertiser newspaper, in the last six months
of 1860, 40149 crates of pottery were exported from
Liverpool to the United States. This was 57.5 per cent of
total overseas pottery exports from Liverpool. The next
most important region was eastern South America, with
7450 crates, or 10.7 per cent of the total. Australia
imported a comparatively minor 799 crates, a mere 1.1 per
cent of the total. This makes for an extraordinary contrast
with the last six months of 1861, by which time exports to
the United States had fallen from over 40000 crates to
only 8044 crates – only 19.8 per cent of the total. Eastern
South America was now the largest market at 22.9 per
5.5%

Australia
7.8%
5.1% France
Spain&Portugal
Malta&Gibraltar
Med.&Turkish Doms.
W.Africa&Cape
E.Indies&China
British America
USA
W.Indies&Cuba
Brazils&S.America
W.Coast S.America
N.European Ports

57.5%

Table 5.1: Liverpool ceramics exports by region – last 6 months of 1860

Table 5.2: Liverpool Pottery Exports by Region - Last 6 Months of 1861

1.1%
0.9%
2.9% 1.8%
8.8% 0.6%
6.9%

1.3%

Australia
France
Spain&Portugal
22.9% Malta&Gibraltar
15.0% Med.&Turkish Doms.
W.Africa&Cape
E.Indies&China
British America
USA
W.Indies&Cuba
Brazils&S.America
W.Coast S.America
N.European Ports
11.4%
6.6%

19.8%

Table 5.2: Liverpool ceramics exports by region – last 6 Months of 1861

57
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

cent, and even Australia had increased to 2.9 per cent of 5.3).
the market (tables 5.1; 5.2). The cause of this sudden shift The full scale of the impact of the dramatic

Table 5.3a: Liverpool Pottery Exports to Selected USA & CSA Cities, July 1860 & July 1861

4000

3500

3000

2500
Crates

July 1860
2000
July 1861

1500

1000

500

0
Boston New York Philadelphia New Orleans Charleston SC San Francisco
Cities

Table 5.3a: Liverpool ceramics exports to selected USA & CSA cities – July 1860 & July 1861

Table 5.3b: Liverpool Pottery Exports to Slected USA & CSA Cities, October 1860 & October 1861

4000

3500

3000

2500
Crates

Oct. 1860
2000
Oct. 1861

1500

1000

500

0
Boston New York Philadelphia New Orleans Charleston SC San Francisco
Cities

Table 5.3b: Liverpool ceramics exports to selected USA & CSA cities – October 1860 & October 1861

was the American Civil War of 1861-1865.
The impact of the latter conflict on American
ceramics imports can be clearly seen by charting the fall in
imports at specific American cities between July and
October in 1860 and 1861. We can see that only San
Francisco – safely away from the conflict on the Pacific
coast, and still in the throes of the California gold rush –
recorded an increase in imports in the relevant period.
Legal exports to blockaded Confederate ports such as New
Orleans ceased entirely. Even major northern ports such as
New York and Boston featured significant declines (table
decline in the American market can be seen by comparing
the difference in exports across a range of international
regions between 1860 and 1861. While exports to many
regions increase dramatically – in the case of Australia by
nearly 50 per cent – exports to the United States fell by an
astonishing 80 per cent (table 5.4). As the Staffordshire
Advertiser newspaper so succinctly put it in October 1861: ‘It
will be seen from the above that there is an increase of exports
in almost every quarter, with the important exception of the
“United States”. Here the decrease is unfortunately too
manifest, and still continues to supply the reason why many

58
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Table 5.4: Percentage Change in Liverpool Pottery Exports by Region, Last Six Months of 1860
versus Last Six Months of 1861

200%

Spain&Portugal
France

W.Africa&Cape
150%

Percentage Change from 1860 to 1861

E.Indies&China

Brazils&S.America
100%

Malta&Gibraltar

Med.&Turkish Doms.
Australia

W.Coast S.America
W.Indies&Cuba
British America
50%

USA
0%

-50%

-100%

Regions

Table 5.4: Percentage change in Liverpool ceramics exports by region, last six months of 1860 versus last six months of 1861
houses in the Potteries are finding their hands so little
employment’. In April 1863, the Advertiser again notes that
‘to some other countries the exports show a very
considerable increase … to Australia and New Zealand 164
crates’. So great was the relative increase in exports to
Australia, that by November 1864 the Advertiser stated ‘For
some years past the exports to Australia have been excessive,
and this has led to a glut in the market, and a consequent
deprecation in value’.

In sum, the Staffordshire potters, some of them

facing severe hardship because of the outbreak of the
American Civil War, compensated for the difficulties in the
American market, and the total embargo on Confederate
ports, by expanding exports to other markets, including
Australia. More research needs to be done to refine the nature
of this expansion, but the inevitable conclusion is that during
the 1860s, American market pottery was being dumped in Figure 5.2: American-market materials in Australia 2; examples
of American-market materials found in Australia need not be
solely oriented towards the USA. This transfer-printed
whiteware saucer features a pattern – ‘British America / Navy
Island’ – commemorating Canadian events.
Australia, though further research needs to be done to
understand the precise nature and volume of the dumping.
The Viewbank assemblage provides solid proof of this
dumping activity. Some of the ‘Berlin Swirl’ pattern white
granite vessels (see Chapter 4, figures 4.14, 4.15) from this
site feature a maker’s mark from ‘Liddle, Mayer & Elliot’.
This firm is not listed in standard guides to British pottery
firms, but by cross-referencing dates for the 1858-1861
‘Mayer & Elliot’ firm (Godden 1991: 422) with the 1862-
1871 ‘Liddle, Elliot & Son firm (Godden 1991: 235), the
most likely dates for ‘Liddle, Mayer & Elliot’ are between
1861 and 1862 – precisely when the American market had
collapsed due to the Civil War. Otherwise the most common
‘Berlin Swirl’ mark is for the 1862-1871 successor firm, and
Figure 5.1: American-market materials in Australia 1; this no white granite has yet been identified in Australia with a
moulded whiteware jug features the printed mark ‘E Pluribus mark pre-dating 1861. Further evidence from the Viewbank
Unum’ on the base – the then-national motto of the USA. assemblage is provided by a jug base printed with the Latin
motto e pluribus unum – the then national motto of the

59
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

United States of America (figures 5.1, 5.2). While more prices is still limited, any in-depth analysis of the
work on this issue needs to be done, the evidence collected economic background of an assemblage will have to
so far leads to the conclusion that the presence of American- examine these factors.
market materials on at least one site in Australia is the
byproduct of a fratricidal conflict on the other side of the
world.

250

200

150
Crates

1st Month 1847

1st Month 1857

100

50

0
Melbourne Sydney Other Aus
Import Areas

Table 5.5: Post-gold rush increases in Liverpool ceramics exports to Australia

This American Civil War example demonstrates It is also important to stress that the Australian
that the Australian historical archaeological record is ceramics record is by no means monolithic. There is good
simultaneously both excitingly unique yet still intimately evidence that there was significant regional variation in
tied to wider international events. The occurrence of the acquisition and importation of different decorations in
white granite in Australia is quite unlike the known different colonies. The ‘Albion’ pattern transfer print is
occurrence of this material elsewhere in the world, and if very common across a range of sites in both Sydney and
it only turns up here in the 1860s, that is 20 years after Adelaide (including Port Adelaide), but appears to be far
British potters first exported it to the United States. Yet as less common in Victoria. While assemblages in New
unique as this pattern of occurrence may be, its cause is South Wales and South Australia can feature several
rooted into wider world events – in this case the American vessels in this pattern across a range of forms, it is rare for
Civil War. Nor is the American Civil War unique. Other a Victorian site to feature more than a few isolated
international events, such as the Australian gold rush – examples (more research is still necessary to examine the
during which pottery imports to Australia increased distribution of Albion in other states). Meanwhile, some
dramatically (table 5.5) – also had a significant impact on firms have only been found in one state, such as the New
the Australian archaeological record. These are not minor Wharf Pottery Co. (Staffordshire) and James Stiff
issues, but rather are crucial to our understanding of how (London), both currently only known in Australia through
and why material culture arrived in Australia. While our examples recovered from Victoria Park, Brisbane
knowledge of theQ
impact
y
of these shifts in exports on local
y p
(Coroneos et al n.d.). Significantly, Binns’ 1907 Manual
(After Binns 1907) of Practical Potting indicates that different quality goods
were shipped to different colonies, with Victoria at the top
‘Class I' ‘Class II' ‘Class III' of the scale, Tasmania at the bottom, and the other
Victoria colonies somewhere in-between (Binns 1907: 155-156 –
New South Wales New South Wales
South Australia South Australia see table 5.6). On a similar note, future analysis may also
Queensland Queensland tell us more about firms who specifically targeted the
Western Australia Western Australia
Tasmania Tasmania Australian market. Bristol-glazed stoneware bottles made by
the Port Dundas Pottery and the Kennedy Barrowfield pottery
“CLASS I. represents the countries which take the finest China and the best kind of are quite common in Australia, and both of these Scottish
earthenware.
CLASS II. represents those countries which take medium china and earthenware, both firms are known to have exported to – perhaps even
common printed and painted.”
CLASS III. represents those countries only taking the commonest china and deliberately targeted – the Pacific rim market (Kelly 1999: 17,
earthenware.” (Binns 1907: 154)
165). Tableware vessels made by the Staffordshire firm of
While not included in the above table, New Zealand was a Class II country (Binns 1907: 155)
Pinder, Bourne and Hope appear to be unusually common in
Australia when compared to British or American sites. The
latter firm dates from c.1850 to 1860 (Godden 1991: 495),
Table 5.6: Quality of Pottery Exports to Different Australian
and it is not unreasonable to speculate as to whether the
Colonies
60

presence of the latter firm’s vessels in Australia might be
related to a new company attempting to expand into a
newly wealthy market in the wake of the gold rush.
Finally, some British potters clearly made vessels
specifically for Australian firms. The City of Launceston
shipwreck (VIC) features stoneware bottles specifically
made by Stephen Green of London for the M. Wilkes
brewing company of Hobart (TAS). Once again, our
understanding of these issues is still incomplete, but a
more complete understanding of regional variation and
Figure 5.3: Australian advertising on British-made plate; this
British-made transfer-printed whiteware plate features an
advert for a chain of Melbourne Boot Stores
targeted exports to Australia would greatly assist
historical archaeologists in understanding variability
between assemblages in different parts of Australia.
Before moving on to a discussion of cost, it is
important to stress one final observation about the
Australian market in the nineteenth century: it simply was
not very big. Even at the height of the American Civil
War, the Australian ceramics market was less than 3 per
cent of the international total, and was usually closer to 1
per cent or 2 per cent of the worldwide market. While
Australia was, relatively speaking, a very wealthy country
following the gold rush, these figures are hardly those of
an export market likely to significantly impact production
back in Great Britain. While individual companies
catered to emerging local taste or produced materials for
local merchants (figure 5.3), Australia was never likely to
have the same sort of impact on production as the United
States, where ware types were specifically developed to
cater for that massive market. This is not to downplay the
significance of the Australian ceramics record for
understanding the Australian past, but simply to note that,
in international context, Australia was not one of the more
important markets for nineteenth-century ceramics.
But broad international trade patterns are but one
aspect of an analysis of economy. Attention must also
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
turn to the cost of objects in their domestic market – here
a distinction must also be made between absolute cost and
relative value. The absolute cost of an object is its actual
monetary worth at the moment of acquisition. The
relative value of an object refers to how much more
expensive it is when compared to other goods. For
example, two organic steaks might cost $10.40 at the
supermarket; this is their absolute cost. These steaks
might prove to be 1.38 times more expensive than two
chicken breasts costing $7.50 – this is the relative value of
the two types of good when compared to each other.
The main tool in historical archaeology used for
analysing the relative value of ceramics is George
Miller’s CC Index (1991a; 1991b). As was mentioned in
Chapter 1, the index provides a statistical framework for
measuring the economic value of ceramic assemblages
dating from the late eighteenth to nineteenth centuries,
and where different decorative techniques are assigned
different relative values depending on vessel form and the
date of the assemblage. Full instructions may be found in
Miller’s writings on the subject, but essentially, the
assemblage is divided into plates, bowls, and teas (cups
and saucers), each of which is treated separately. Further
division then occurs by vessel size (10-inch-diameter
plates, for example, are treated differently than 7-inch
plates) and decorative technique. A date is then chosen
from Miller’s tables based on what is most appropriate for
the assemblage. After sorting by form, size, decoration,
and date, a relative value (where ‘undecorated’ always
equals ‘1’) can be assigned through Miller’s tables. The
relative value for each type is then multiplied by the
number of vessels occurring in that type. Each sum is
then added together and divided by the total number of
vessels in that portion (plate, bowl, or tea) of the
assemblage. The resulting number is the relative value of
that part of the assemblage, which can then be used for
both intra- and inter-site comparisons. As the index
values are temporally adjusted, the index can – within
limits (Miller 1991b: 3-4) – be used for comparing the
relative value of assemblages across time.
Various criticisms can be directed towards the
CC Index, particularly regarding how it only examines a
limited portion of an assemblage (coarse earthenwares,
most porcelain, and many vessel forms are excluded).
But the index is only a tool, and as with all tools some
criticisms reflect more how the tool was used than how it
was designed. As a method used to calculate the relative
values of the most common forms in tightly-dated
assemblages from the eastern United States (which is not
nearly as limiting as it may sound), Miller’s system is an
extremely useful analytical tool. It is more relevant to ask
here whether or not the CC Index has any real
applicability in this part of the world.
The current answer is ‘we’re not entirely sure
yet, but probably not’. The CC Index values were based
on a combination of data, including Staffordshire potters’
price-fixing agreements, individual potters’ price lists,
and potters’ invoices (Miller 1991b: 1-2). While these
61
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
initial values are British-based, interpretation of those
values – particularly as regards comparisons to the New
York Commodities Index of Wholesale Prices and
American import tariffs – was heavily weighted towards
the United States. We simply cannot assume that British
prices analysed through their applicability to the North
American market can be used for Australian assemblages,
particularly given that the history of Australia (and the
impact of that history on Australian trade and economy) is
quite distinct from that of the United States. Australian
tastes and preferences – and therefore the willingness of
Australian consumers to pay more for certain types of
vessels – might also have significantly differed from other
parts of the world. Even within Australia, pre-gold rush
sites in lightly-populated colonies often heavily reliant on
convict labour exist within an extremely different social
and economic context to their post-gold rush counterparts.
Finally, Australia was not a unified colony before
Federation. Each separate colony imposed tariffs on the
importation of goods from its neighbours, and the
inconsistent distribution of different decorations (such as
the ‘Albion’ pattern – see above) strongly suggests
different patterns of importation and/or preferences in the
separate colonies – as does the evidence from written
sources (see table 5.6)
Under the circumstances, while they are an
extremely useful analytical tool in many American
contexts, it simply cannot be recommended that Miller’s
indices currently be used in Australia. ‘Testing’ the CC
Index will not consist of using Miller’s data for Australian
assemblages, but rather using Miller’s system as the
inspiration for generating Australian indices – themselves
based on a combination of prices from Staffordshire-based
potters and Australian merchants. This will allow the
distinctive nature of the Australian past to be considered in
the calculation of local relative values, which may well
prove (or not – as the case may be) to be quite different
from their American counterparts. It is certainly not
impossible that this future research may prove that some of
Miller’s values are indeed directly applicable to the
Australian archaeological record, but it cannot be assumed
at present that this is in fact the case.
STATUS
In the context of this book, ‘status’ refers to how
perceptions of different ceramic types helped to form, and
were informed by, the broader social rank or position of an
individual or household. Almost inevitably, attempts to
explore the status connotations of ceramics are closely
related to examinations of the cost of different ceramics –
and there are close ties between the analysis of economy
and status – but monetary value alone is not always enough
to form a complete picture of status-related issues.
Explorations of status have led to a
misconception in some Australian research which has also
been examined by Graham Wilson (1999a). There is an
occasional assumption that the occurrence of transfer-
62
printed and porcelain vessels in sites associated with the
‘poor’ (itself a somewhat slippery archaeological concept)
somehow indicates that the ‘poor’ were not nearly as poor
as anticipated. This conclusion is at best problematic, and
appears to be based on a misreading of the data in Miller’s
CC Index values (see above) and a lack of familiarity with
the nature of the Australian artefact record.
Miller’s research does indeed indicate that
transfer prints and porcelain were the most expensive
ceramic types in the nineteenth century, but there is a
crucial difference between ‘relatively more expensive’ and
unaffordable. As research in both the USA (Miller 1991b:
14) and the UK (Brooks 2000: 185-197) demonstrates,
both the relative value and the absolute cost of transfer
prints declined throughout the nineteenth century. Yes,
they are more expensive than undecorated vessels, but far
from being unaffordable, transfer-printed vessels are the
most common decorated vessels across Britain and the
Empire. This is true not only in urban contexts but in
relatively isolated parts of the world. Within Britain this
includes St. Kilda, Scotland (Kelly 1996), and North
Pembrokeshire, Wales (Brooks 2003), while in Australia
this is true of such sites as Port Essington, NT (Allen
1969), Poet Arthur, TAS, and Port Macquarie NSW. In
fact, after lightly decorated, relief-moulded white granite
came to dominate the American market from the 1840s,
there is every reason to believe that transfer prints became
even more common on British and British Imperial sites
(Brooks 2000: 192-194). As discussed, in his report on the
ceramics from the Wapping site (Hobart, TAS), Wilson
quite correctly states that no real status conclusions can be
made from the presence alone of transfer prints on
Australian sites from the later nineteenth century for the
simple reason that these materials are completely
ubiquitous on Australian sites from this time period,
irrespective of the social class of the site inhabitants
(Wilson 1999a).
However, the undoubted problems with using the
current CC index in Australia should by no means
discourage the archaeologist from studying issues of status
through the archaeological record. Further documentary
and/or archaeological research may well help to refine
many of the issues that are currently problematic. This
may prove to be particularly true for the pre-gold rush
period, where the dominance of transfer prints within the
archaeological record may not be as prevalent. For
example, comparisons between the assemblages
associated with the different servants’ quarters (mid-1830s
to early 1850s) at Graham Connah’s Lake Innes site near
Port Macquarie does appear to indicate some status
differences that are discernable through the wares and
decorations present within the ceramic record. The
stablehouse, where finely-liveried servants were known to
have lived, features the very latest up-to-date porcelains
and flown wares. A small cottage in the ‘village’ further
out on the property features almost no ceramics at all – and
what does exist comes from the cheaper end of the scale.
Finally, a cottage known to be associated with a
blacksmith – more favoured than the ‘village’ household,

but less favoured than the stable servants – features an
assemblage characterised by a wide range of decorated
wares (including many good- quality transfer prints), but
less in the way of porcelain or more fashionable wares
than the stablehouse. While this observation in this
specific case does little more than confirm what was
already discernable through other means, it does strongly
indicate that considerable potential does exist for using a
more traditional approach to the analysis of status on pre-
gold rush sites. The solution in Australia at present, at
least for earlier colonial sites, would thus appear to be to
focus on relative quantity and quality rather than
calculating relative worth to two decimal places. This
may lack the quantitative rigour of a CC index, but it is a
considerably better approach until a similar index (or
indices) can be generated for Australia.
Discussions of status need not be reduced to
simple matters of elucidating a direct relationship
between cost, value and status. For example, the link
between certain vessel forms and associated social
customs can have important status implications. Northern
Hemisphere archaeologists have previously done
extensive research in this regard with teawares (cups and
saucers), and while much of this work is not directly
translatable to an Australian context, a couple of brief
examples will be provided here to demonstrate how this
issue has been approached elsewhere.
Leone and Shackel have previously argued that
dining-related material culture does more than denote
rank, order and hierarchy, it helps to create these very
categories (Leone and Shackel 1987: 48-49). Shackel
(1993: 107-9; 112-4), using Braudel (1979: 250-255) as
his main source, has extended these themes to teawares.
Shackel argued that tea-drinking in the Western world was
originally an activity synonymous with social elites. Tea-
drinking was both formed by and helped inform the
hierarchical segmentation of everyday life. It furthermore
represented a conspicuous display of leisure time; those
who had the time for the social rituals associated with tea
were not tied to subsistence manual labour. Shackel’s
research demonstrates that in eighteenth-century rural
colonial Maryland (USA), different socio-economic
groups owned sets of tea cups in direct proportion to their
wealth. The poorest group owned no teawares at all
(Shackel 1993: 108-9). However, in nineteenth-century
colonial Australia, the status connotations between tea and
teawares are perhaps less clear. Tea-drinking was not only
ubiquitous in colonial Australia, but was arguably a
necessity in bush contexts with a questionably hygienic
water supply. Young (2003) has written on the extent to
which the material culture of gentility was transmitted
across the English-speaking world. Nonetheless, it should
not be assumed that the rituals of tea drinking carried the
same associations in nineteenth-century Brisbane as they
did in eighteenth-century Baltimore. But it would still be
a reasonable question for future Australian archaeologists
to look at whether the forms associated with tea drinking
(cups and saucers) maintain certain status associations
even while the different ‘rituals’ do not.
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Teawares have also been used to look at issues of
status involving social groups outside of traditional
narrow class associations. Past British research, for
example, has shown how the use of teawares by poor
cottagers in nineteenth-century rural Wales can be
associated with contemporary perceptions of the
difference between ‘low-status’ traditional Welsh society
and ‘high-status’ British metropolitan ideology. In this
context, the ubiquitous inexpensively-decorated bowls
that would have been used to serve traditional Welsh stew
represented the low-status traditional behaviour, while the
teawares – totally alien to traditional Welsh behaviour,
and overwhelmingly made from porcelain – represented
the encroachment of higher-status British ideology into
rural Wales (Brooks 2003). Extreme caution should be
used in applying such a Cambro-centric model to
Australia, but this example does at least show that an
analysis of status need not always be primarily a matter of
class.
FUNCTION
Issues of ‘function’ remain the source of considerable
confusion within Australian historical archaeology. This
is as true of basic cataloguing as it is of analysis. Indeed,
many Australian catalogues often hopelessly confuse
‘form’ and ‘function’ even when these are separate
categories within the catalogue. This is not some minor
matter of semantics, but is rather crucial to our
understanding of an assemblage. In the following
discussion, ‘function’ is used to refer to how the vessel
was used, whereas ‘form’ refers to what shape that vessel
takes. Therefore ‘food consumption’, ‘food preparation’
and ‘food storage’ are functions, but ‘plate’, ‘bowl’ and
‘cup’ are forms. ‘Plate’ is not a function as the role of a
plate is not ‘to plate’, and ‘food consumption’ is the
function most often associated with the form ‘plate’.
Many Australian databases include separate
fields for ‘activity’ and ‘function’. As was discussed in
Chapters 1 and 3, the immediate Australian antecedent for
this practice appears to have been Birmingham’s
Regentville project (Birmingham 1990: 17-20), though
this is not to suggest that Birmingham was the sole
Australian inspiration. In broader historical archaeology,
the true ancestor is South’s pattern analysis. This analysis
was based on the hypothesis that ‘a British family on the
way to America in the eighteenth century would bring a
basic set of behavioral modes, attitudes, and associated
artifacts that would not vary regardless of whether their
ship landed at Charleston, Savannah, or Philadelphia’
(South 1977: 86). Thus his ‘Carolina Artifact Pattern’
(one of several patterns South developed) was based upon
‘examining the ratios between artifact groups with the
view of establishing certain broad regularities … of
culture process against which any deviation … can be
contrasted as reflecting behavior somewhat different from
expected margins’ (South 1977: 86).
63
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
South’s basic vehicle for exploring this point was
to group artefacts into specific broad functional groups,
‘clothing’, ‘personal’, ‘tobacco’, and ‘activities’ (South
1977: 96-102). The Carolina Artifact Pattern was then
defined by comparing the percentage occurrence of these
different groups across a range of sites. Those sites where
the distribution of artefacts across the functional groups fit
within the relevant percentage range were then said to
adhere to the Carolina pattern.
Irrespective of whether one agrees with how
pattern analysis has been applied in North American
historical archaeology in the past (and it should be noted in
passing that by no means all North Americans use or agree
with the method), the influence thereof cannot be
underestimated. Many American catalogues are based
around South’s categories to some extent; in the mid-
1990s, leading East Coast consultancy firm John Milner
Associates was using the functional artefact group as the
primary determining category in the catalogue, even
before material. Thus a bone china decal-printed saucer
would be classed as ‘K’ for kitchen before being classed as
‘C’ for ceramic (the full designation would be K-C-3-1,
where ‘3’ is bone china, and ‘1’ is a decal; no separate
categories are included for form or more specific function
– these are recorded only at the analysis vessel count level;
John Milner Associates 1994: 20). One might agree or
disagree with the conclusions thereof, but South’s
discussion of the Carolina Artifact Pattern consists of over
50 closely-reasoned pages (South 1977: 83-139) in one of
the seminal books in North American method and theory,
and there can be no doubting that the implications and
reasons for using functional categories have been carefully
thought through.
And this is where one of the challenges for
Australia lies. With only a few exceptions, such as
Birmingham’s Regentville research (1990) or Davies’
work at Henry’s Mill in Victoria’s Otway Ranges (2001),
Australia has lacked a similarly thorough engagement with
the theoretical and methodological implications of
function-based analysis. Until such a discussion over the
use of functional categories has taken place in this country,
their use can prove to be deeply problematic. At their most
dangerous, the unthinking use of functional categories can
actually prove to be detrimental to analysis, and here the
Australian literature has provided a classic example of the
issues at hand – no less so for being glass -rather than
ceramic-based.
In the 1990s, Carney re-evaluated the analysis of
the glass bottles from the ‘Babes in the Wood’ hotel site in
Parramatta (NSW). In his own words,
it became obvious during examination of
this and other material that methods
currently employed on eastern Australian
[Sydney] sites had contributed to the
misinterpretation of cultural material at the
… site. The potential flaw … is identified as
the adherence to common historical
functional descriptions of artefacts,
64
irrespective of context (Carney 1998: 80).
While there were also problems with the original analysis
of the site stratigraphy that had contributed to the mistaken
interpretation, a central issue was that the functional
analysis had associated the bottle assemblage with the
hotel. Carney’s re-evaluation demonstrated that the bottles
in the assemblage featured certain characteristics, such as
the percentage occurrence of certain types and the lack of
bottle stoppers, that were far more in keeping with the
presence of a local cordial factory and the re-use and
recycling of bottles by that factory (Carney 1998: 87). As
Carney so cogently noted, the essential flaw of the focus
on function was that ‘nothing new can be learned from
artefacts if fixed assumptions are made before assessing
their physical archaeological context’ and that ‘by
appending function first, we are making an unsustainable
interpretation’ (Carney 1998: 87). Thus for the Babes in
the Wood site, the rigid use of functional categories such
as ‘alcohol bottles’ without any consideration of how the
bottles might have been used differently, or the broader
site context, meant that the nature of the entire assemblage
was misinterpreted.
This cautionary tale of bottle recycling leads
neatly into another problematic issue in any discussions of
function: artefact polyfunctionality, or the concept that an
artefact can have more than one function. On one level,
this is simply a matter of using one vessel form for several
different practical tasks. For example, Scott’s analysis of
eighteenth- and nineteenth-century British colonial and
Anglo-American cookbooks revealed the extraordinary
diversity of functions to which ordinary vessels might be
applied in the kitchen. In the context of tea cups, Scott
noted how ‘some ceramics vessels often assumed by
archaeologists to have been used only in beverage
consumption were also used in baking and boiling foods
and other preparation activities’ (Scott 1997: 142). Thus a
cup might be used not only for drinking tea, but also for
making rice soup, rendering rennet, moulding fruit sauces,
boiling and moulding fruit dumplings, moulding rice
(‘snowball’) custard, mixing water and arrowroot powder,
measuring amounts of liquid and dry ingredients, cutting
biscuits in dough, baking batter puffs, and baking and
boiling custard; Scott even cites an elaborate method of
using ‘china cups’ to help set a broth base of veal bone and
chicken foot jelly by placing the jelly-filled cups in a
stewpan of boiling water (Scott 1997: 142-143). Nor were
cups in any way unique, though perhaps it would be better
at this point to direct the reader interested in the full
extraordinary variability of eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century vessel function towards Scott’s original article
rather than to further crowd the present chapter with long
lists of multiple vessel functions.
It should at this point be clear that pre-assigning
a function of ‘liquid consumption’ to a cup within a
catalogue is an inadequate means through which to
examine all potential aspects of that artefact’s
functionality. This is equally true of other narrow
predetermined functional categories and other vessel
forms. It is hard to improve on Scott’s observation that:

the evidence from these cookbooks strongly
suggests that we have to reconsider our
interpretive strategies in light of
information from the people who used the
material culture we recover. To disregard
such evidence, even if it complicates an
already convoluted methodology, would be
to claim a twentieth-century ‘scientific’
privilege and arrogance that has little basis
in the past as it was lived. (Scott 1997: 153-
154).
But while Scott’s research raises serious
questions as to the validity of using functional categories
such as ‘liquid consumption’, ‘food preparation’, and
‘food consumption’ within basic catalogues, it does not
raise similar questions about the use of artefact groups as
advocated by South. After all, as varied as the uses of a
tea cup might have been, all of the uses described above
would fit within South’s ‘kitchen’ group. A crucial issue
of polyfunctionality that renders even broad artefact
groups potentially problematic is the difference between
vessels purchased for everyday use, and vessels purchased
for display. Here a couple of related British examples
over the use of dressers in the homes of the rural poor will
help to demonstrate the point.
Past research by Vincentelli (1992) and Webster
(1999) has discussed the importance of the dresser as a
vehicle for ceramics display in both rural Wales and the
Outer Hebrides respectively. But the interesting thing
about these dressers is perhaps not so much that
households in Scotland and Wales were displaying their
ceramics, but rather the extent to which this practice
permeated the poorer social classes. Thus households
living in small Welsh cottages or Hebridean blackhouses
at the rural margins of Britain had both the desire and the
means through which to ‘enjoy the luxury of decorating
their houses and their tables with brightly coloured
pottery’ and to ‘take pride in their household choices and
display their personal taste’ (Vincentelli 1992: 18). That
this practice of display – a functional use entirely
divorced from kitchen activities – was so pervasive
clearly undermines South’s strangely circular argument
that there is no need to devise functional artefact classes
that have no exceptions as virtually every artefact class
can be used for a variety of purposes (South 1977: 96).
While the effect of display items on the material culture
record in Australia has hitherto been an understudied
issue, the fact that display is well recorded in nineteenth-
century Britain means that this issue should be considered
at some level for Britain’s Australian colonies.
Unfortunately, it is notoriously difficult to
identify polyfunctionality through artefact analysis. In
most cases it will prove impossible to identify specifically
how an artefact was used simply by looking at it. At least
one nineteenth-century Welsh site provided direct
evidence of the presence of display vessels through the
lack of use-wear marks (cuts and marks made by cutlery
and the like) on the body of some of the plates (Brooks
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
2003: 133). Yet while a lack of use-wear marks might
indicate that an item was used for display (though it might
equally simply indicate that the vessel was never used),
the presence of use-wear marks need not indicate that a
vessel was never used for display. A vessel might well
have been used for display at some point in its life before
being later used on an everyday basis – indeed, vessels
might well have been used for alternating purposes within
very short periods of time. By now it should be clear that
vessel function – especially as regards polyfunctionality –
is considerably more complex an issue than many
Australian ceramics catalogues implicitly assume.
None of the discussions in this section should be
construed as arguing that function is somehow so
convoluted an issue that it should be excluded from
analysis. On the contrary, issues of vessel function remain
central to our understanding of the material record; it is a
subject of rare fascination, depth, and variety. What this
section does hopefully demonstrate, however, is that
function is far too complex an issue to regularly reduce to
simple set categories within a basic accession catalogue.
There are occasions when a carefully-constructed and
soundly-reasoned research design may well justify the
inclusion of function in these basic catalogues, but most
of the time it is an issue best included in a more nuanced
and in-depth analysis capable of deconstructing and
critiquing its rich complexities. As was discussed in
Chapter 2, analysis and interpretation is a very different
thing from identification. The material evidence from the
ceramics must be integrated with other social,
documentary, and historical evidence before a full
interpretation can take place. There is a crucial need for
the Australian historical archaeologist to distinguish
between primary intended function, primary intended use,
and the various possible secondary intended functions and
uses beyond the primary. Primary intended function
simply refers to the commonly intended function at the
point of manufacture (a plate designed for food
consumption), whereas primary intended use simply
refers to the intended use by the consumer (a plate
purchased for display on a dresser). These will frequently
coincide, but they will not always do so, and to ignore the
differences in the belief that form and function
automatically flow from one other would be a mistake.
MEANING
Discussions of meaning – the myriad social, ideological,
and symbolic implications of an artefact – are almost
inevitably both more subjective and more controversial
than other types of analysis. Martin (2001: 32) has
written that ‘ceramics are dense carriers of meaning.
Multiple questions can be asked of any one object, but not
every object answers every question best.’ Similarly, not
every question is equally appropriate for each object or
assemblage. For the sake of simplicity, this section will
concentrate on issues of gender and gentility on the one
hand, and issues of national and regional identity on the
other – but in this section of the chapter more than any
65
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
other it must be stressed that the small number of examples
offered here are not meant to constrain future analysis by
readers of this guide in a narrow range of directions, or to
suggest that the topics discussed here are the only
meaning-related topics worth pursuing. An incomplete list
of other meaning-related issues that might be explored
include conceptions of childhood, expressions of political
and religious beliefs, or even such superficially whimsical
topics as whether the symbolism of the late-nineteenth
century ‘language of flowers’ was transposed to floral
decorations on ceramics. The following discussion will
focus on vessel decoration and vessel form as the most
common attributes studied in the archaeological
interpretation of meaning, but ware types can also offer a
means through which to examine this issue.
In his brief discussion of post-processualist
theory in historical archaeology, Orser notes that
‘Archaeological examinations of past symbolism are of
necessity variable in approach and design because they
typically relate to at least two elements: what something is
meant to portray, and how people actually perceive the
message being sent’ (Orser 2003: 446). This crucial gap
between design and perception remains at the core of
examinations of meaning. Martin (2001:40) has discussed
how Europeans and Americans could use the Oriental
images on ceramics to ‘travel’ to the far east without
necessarily knowing – or indeed caring – that these images
were entirely fantastical. No doubt similar observations
could be made for Australians.
Another example of past research that has
explored the gap between design and perception involved
the study of how nineteenth-century potters manipulated
transfer-printed images associated with Britain’s mythic
Celtic past (Brooks 1997), research that has also been
extended more broadly to conceptions of British identity in
general (Brooks 1999). Here vessel decoration becomes
the means through which to examine issues of regional and
national ideology. Most of the themes of ‘Celtic’ and
‘British’ identity associated with these plates were
essentially inventions of eighteenth- and nineteenth-
century nationalism inspired by the Romantic movement
or the political necessity of uniting the Kingdom in the
face of perceived external threats, but they nonetheless
became a vehicle by which the myths and ideologies
underpinning these identities were transmitted around the
world, even if households acquiring those patterns did not
themselves interact with that mythic imagery.
Yet the presence or absence of Celtic-themed or
British-made plates on a site need not correlate directly
with a desire to appropriate, or an explicit interaction with,
the relevant identities and ideologies. In the case of the
presence of British materials, this has been most acutely
observed by Praetzellis and Praetzellis in the context of the
use of British material culture by the Chinese community
of Sacramento, California. The Praetzellises noted that
they had found large amounts of European, as opposed to
Chinese, ceramics in nineteenth-century Chinatown sites.
This was not a result of a process of acculturation, where
66
the Chinese community rejected their Chinese heritage in
favour of Anglo-American culture, but rather resulted from
the purchase of the ceramics used in Sacramento’s
Chinatown by an American middleman; those British
ceramics were then still used in ways consistent with
Chinese society, such as traditional Chinese gift-exchange
(Praetzellis and Praetzellis 1997). Similarly, the absence
of patterns associated with specific national or ethnic
groups need not indicate that the group in question has
rejected traditional behaviour.
In a British context, since many British Celtic-
themed patterns were made for export, it comes as little
surprise that there is very little in the way of specifically
Welsh decoration within assemblages excavated from
nineteenth-century Welsh sites. Thus an exploration of the
interface between meaning and national identity in Welsh
assemblages more naturally focuses on vessel form. Past
research here has engaged in a comparison between
different assemblages of the relative amounts of bowls
associated with the traditional Welsh bacon and vegetable
stew cawl and the relative amounts of teawares associated
with the emerging external ‘British’ culture. The differing
amounts of these forms between assemblages had
implications for the spread of the new ‘British’ culture
through Wales, but this was far from a simplistic process
of the forced imposition of an ‘alien’ culture, or the
wholesale conscious abandonment of the old. It was
instead varied and complex (Brooks 2003: 131).
The point of the latter discussion is simply to
prove that the mere presence or absence of vessels
associated with a specific cultural group does not
necessarily indicate that the group using them (or not using
them) has somehow automatically merged itself into the
dominant local socio-cultural group – a point also raised
by Rubertone in the context of the use of material culture
to study ‘acculturation’ in historic-period Indigenous
American assemblages (Rubertone 2000: 430-432).
Furthermore, decoration is not the only vehicle for
exploring this point. In Australia, much valuable work has
been done on the interaction between the Chinese
community and European material culture (eg Lydon
1999), but given that the dominant settler groups within
colonial Australia were from Britain and Ireland,
surprisingly little work has been done on studying Scots,
Welsh, Irish, English and British identities within the
archaeological record – though there are exceptions, such
as Hill’s (1998) study of the gold rush-era Welsh Village
near Castlemaine (VIC). This area of study holds the
potential to offer significant contributions towards our
understanding of how different British and Irish cultural
groups both contributed towards the formation of
Australian identity and/or maintained separate identities
rooted in the homelands and ideologies of their past.
Historians, whether studying the impact of Highland Scots
in particular regions of Australia (Watson 1984) or the
interaction of the English and Irish in the formation of
Australian identity (Dixson 1999) have already made
significant contributions in this area, but archaeology is
still lagging behind. As Lydon has noted in the Chinese

context, ‘The material world is integral to the complex
process of cultural interaction’ (Lydon 1999: 175).
Australian historical archaeology has, however,
made significant contributions towards a different
meaning-related issue: the artefact-based analysis of
gender – the study of the impact on and implications of
feminine and masculine social roles within artefact
assemblages. It appears to be traditional when discussing
gender and ceramics to cite the work of North American
historical archaeologists such as Yentsch (1991a; 1991b)
and Wall (1995). Yet while their work is undoubtedly
important, enough interesting and valuable research has
taken place in Australia that this section can focus solely
on Australian analysis; much work on this topic has taken
place in Australia, such as Casey’s (1999) discussion of
dairying in Sydney and Lydon’s gender-based studies of
various aspects of material culture from the Rocks,
Sydney (Lydon 1993b; 1998; 1999). This section uses
two examples from work by Lawrence that explored
constructions of both masculinity and femininity.
Lawrence’s work on Tasmanian whaling stations
and Victorian goldfield sites offers some particularly
important examples of the interaction of ceramics and
perceptions of gender, particularly as regards the
connection between gender and conceptions of middle-
class gentility in an Australian colonial environment. This
work was also described in Chapter 1, but the following
discussion is more focused on meaning and gender. For
example, gender was a vital part of Lawrence’s study of
how ‘context and cognition’ informed the analysis of
ceramics from the Kelly and Lucas whaling station
(c.1826-1841) at Adventure Bay, Bruny Island, Tasmania
– hardly the most genteel of colonial environments. Here
Lawrence noted that the majority of the ceramics were the
common refined earthenware tablewares ‘typical of what
was available’ at this time (Lawrence 1998: 10).
However, Lawrence argued that the presence of these
refined tablewares at a whaling station was part of the
negotiation of masculine identities in an all-male
environment. The ceramics ‘helped to affirm the
headsman’s continued allegiance to the beliefs and values
of the middle class’ (Lawrence 1998: 13) during a period
where there was ‘a tension … between masculine
ideology which celebrated adventure, male
companionship, and fast living, and those which espoused
settled life and domestic responsibility’ (Lawrence 1998:
13). Thus the choice of ceramics at the site strongly
suggests that the conceptions of masculinity adopted by
the whaling station’s managerial elite were firmly rooted
in middle-class values.
Lawrence offered a not dissimilar analysis of the
presence of refined tablewares from excavations at the
Dolly’s Creek settlement in the Moorabool diggings in the
Victorian goldfields, but with a focus on femininity rather
than masculinity. Here Lawrence observed the
widespread presence of ‘fragile, heavy and impractical’
ceramics at the diggings, something which runs counter to
the evidence of the written record (Lawrence 2000: 133-
134). Lawrence suggested that ‘symbolically embedded
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
in their crockery is the deeply-felt longing for order and
domestic predictability … Perhaps crockery was a
tangible way of reaching for … ‘quietness’: a settled
peace-of mind many outside observers felt to be lacking
on the goldfields’ (Lawrence 2000: 134). Lawrence
further noted that while these ceramics were widespread
at all of the Dolly’s Creek houses, they seemed to be
particularly important at those houses where women are
known to have lived. In a society where the ‘defining
element of femininity was the association of women with
the domestic’ (Lawrence 2000: 134), this suggests a
deliberate attempt to construct a respectable, genteel
domestic environment in the goldfields. This
archaeological investigation of meaning within the
context of gender thus helps to contextualise and refine
historians’ observations on how women’s responsibilities
within the household ‘were deliberately cloaked in the
contemporary ideologies of domesticity, respectability,
and the separate spheres of men and women’ (Lawrence
2000: 135).
Lawrence’s work on gender at Adventure Bay
and Dolly’s Creek offers an important example of how
investigations of the symbolic and ideological meanings
of ceramics can be undertaken in Australia, looking at
issues relevant across the world, but in specifically
Australian contexts. Issues of meaning have hitherto been
an under-represented part of ceramics analysis in
Australia, but the tremendous potential is there. The
examples presented in this section have provided only a
small and incomplete set of examples of the richness and
complexity of ideological issues that can be studied
through ceramics analysis, but hopefully they nonetheless
provide a small sample of what can be achieved when this
issue is given the attention it so often deserves.
CONCLUSION
This book has covered extensive ground, from a
historiography of past ceramics studies, to the
interpretation and analysis of assemblages, by way of
guides to the processing of assemblages and the
identification of materials. If there have undeniably been
problematic issues in the state of material culture studies
in Australian historical archaeology’s past, then equally it
cannot be denied that the discipline has made tremendous
strides in recent years. Building on years of expertise by
practitioners across the country, material culture,
including – but hardly limited to – ceramics, increasingly
forms a central part of historical archaeology research in
this country.
This book hopes to make a small contribution to
that increasing centrality, but new challenges and new
areas of research are now opening up. First of all, this
book has only covered one class of material culture.
Similar archaeological surveys of other classes such as
Australian pottery (notwithstanding Ford 2000), or a glass
guide similar to the well-known Parks Canada volume
(Jones and Sullivan 1989), would further add to our
67
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

understanding of this nation’s archaeological record. On

the research front, a small selection of future ceramic-
related research issues might include increasing our
already-growing understanding of how Australian
preferences and fashions interacted with British Imperial
trade goods, gaining a better understanding of the
interaction between non-Chinese ethnicity and material
culture, and engaging in broader international comparative
studies (such as between gold rush Australia and gold rush
California). The future of ceramics – and broader material
culture – studies in Australia is extremely promising.

68
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Appendix A:
British Pottery Manufacturers Known in Australia
The following list features the names of British pottery manufacturers known from Australian excavations, the dates of operation
of those manufacturers, and the location of their business within Great Britain. The list was mainly compiled from data kindly
provided by Heritage Victoria and the La Trobe University-led Sydney-based Exploring the Archaeology of the Modern City
Project. Additional data were collated from Queen Street, Port Adelaide (SA), Port Arthur (TAS), Lake Innes, Port Macquarie
(NSW), Wapping, Hobart (TAS; Wilson 1999a) and Victoria Park, Brisbane (QLD; Coroneos et al nd) in order to increase the
geographic range. Only the Victoria Park and Wapping data were taken from published sources. Dates are mostly from Godden
(1991), with occasional cross-referencing with and clarifications from Coysh and Henrywood (1982; 1986) and – for Scotland –
Kelly (1999). A list of this nature is doomed to become at least partially obsolete almost as soon as it is published, but as it
includes all of the most common manufacturers recovered in Australia as of mid-2003, it will nonetheless continue to be useful
for the foreseeable future.

Some additional notes of explanation may be helpful. The listing is alphabetical, but based on surname – so Lovatt & Lovatt are
listed before Maddock John. Where several potters had the same name (this is most obvious with the various William
Adamses), and the original data did not clarify which of the namesakes in question was found in the assemblage, I have erred on
the side of caution and included all of the possible firms. Where a single firm featured two similar names ('Thomas Forester and
Sons' and 'Thomas Forester and Sons Ltd.') that are separately dateable, I have provided two separate entries accordingly. In one
case – Doulton – two separate entries have been provided for the same firm to allow for the separate, but overlapping, dates of
operation of the firm's two distinct factories. Two names occur in italics; these are continental European firms who made
pottery in the British style, and whose wares have been recovered in Australia. Sections in parentheses after a manufacturer's
name refer to styles (such as 'Co.', '& sons', etc) inconsistently applied to a firm's name, or alternative names for the pottery;
Scottish firms in particular are often referred to in the literature by the name of the pottery rather than the name of the
manufacturer stamped on the vessel, and this can occasionally cause confusion.

Maker Date Location

Adams & Sons, William 1819+ Staffordshire potteries

Adams, William of Stoke-on-Trent c.1804-1819 Staffordshire potteries
Adams, William of Tunstall c.1779-1809 Staffordshire potteries
Adams, William of Brick House, Burslem & Cobridge c.1770-c.1820 Staffordshire potteries
Alcock, John 1853-1861 Staffordshire potteries
Alcock, Samuel & Co. 1828-1859 Staffordshire potteries
Ashworth, G. L. & Bros 1862-1968 Staffordshire potteries
Batkin, Walker & Broadhurst 1840-1845 Staffordshire potteries
Bell, J. & M. P. 1842-1928 Glasgow
Bevington & Co. 1817-1821 Swansea
Booth, T. G. & F. 1883-1891 Staffordshire potteries
Bourne, Joseph 1833-1860 Denby, Derbyshire
Boyle, Zachariah & Sons 1823-1850 Staffordshire potteries
Bridgwood & Clarke 1857-1864 Staffordshire potteries
Brownfield, William 1850-1891 Staffordshire potteries
Brownhills Pottery Co. 1872-1896 Staffordshire potteries
Burgess, H. 1864-1892 Staffordshire potteries
Burton, William c.1821-1832 Codnor Park, Derbyshire
Carey, Thomas & John 1823-1842 Staffordshire potteries
Challinor, E. & C. 1862-1891 Staffordshire potteries
Challinor, Edward 1842-1867 Staffordshire potteries
Clementson Bros 1865-1916 Staffordshire potteries
Clementson, Joseph 1839-1864 Staffordshire potteries
Clyde Pottery Co. 1810-1904 Glasgow
Cochran and Fleming (Brittania Pottery) 1896-1920 Glasgow
Cochran, Robert (Verreville Pottery) 1846-1918 Glasgow
Cone, Thomas Ltd. 1892+ Staffordshire potteries
Copeland & Garrett 1833-1847 Staffordshire potteries
Copeland W. T. (& Sons) 1847+ Staffordshire potteries
Cork, Edge & Malkin 1860-1871 Staffordshire potteries
Davenport c.1793-1887 Staffordshire potteries
Dimmock, Thomas (& Co.) 1828-1859 Staffordshire potteries
Doulton & Co. – Burslem c.1882+ Staffordshire potteries
Doulton & Co. – Lambeth 1858-1956 Lambeth, London
Doulton & Watts c.1815-1858 Lambeth, London
Dudson, J. 1888-1898 Staffordshire potteries
Dunn, Bennett & Co. 1875+ Staffordshire potteries
69
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Edwards, John (& Co.) 1847-1900 Staffordshire potteries

Elkin, Knight & Bridgewood c.1827-1840 Staffordshire potteries
Elkin, Knight & Elkin (Elkins & Co.) c.1822-1830 Staffordshire potteries
Elsmore & Son 1872-1887 Staffordshire potteries
Everard, Glover & Colcloughc. 1847 Staffordshire potteries
Fell, Thomas (& Co.) 1817-1890 Newcastle (UK)
Floyd, Benjamin c.1843 Staffordshire potteries
Forester, Thomas & Sons 1883-1891 Staffordshire potteries
Forester, Thomas & Sons Ltd. 1891-1959 Staffordshire potteries
Godwin, Thomas 1834-1854 Staffordshire potteries
Goodfellow, Thomas 1828-1859 Staffordshire potteries
Goodwin & Ellis c.1839-1840 Staffordshire potteries
Goodwin, John (Seacombe Pottery) c.1852-1871 The Wirral, Merseyside
Green, Stephen c.1820-1858 Lambeth, London
Grindley, W. H. (& Co.) 1880+ Staffordshire potteries
Hall, Ralph & Co. (& Son) 1822-1849 Staffordshire potteries
Hanley Porcelain Co. 1892-1899 Staffordshire potteries
Hanley China Co. 1899-1901 Staffordshire potteries
Harvey, Bailey & Co 1833-1835 Staffordshire potteries
Hill Pottery Co. c.1861-1867 Staffordshire potteries
Hope & Carter 1862-1880 Staffordshire potteries
Hulse, Nixon & Adderley 1853-1868 Staffordshire potteries
Jamieson, James & Co (Bo'ness Pottery) 1826-1859 Bo'ness, West Lothian
Johnson Brothers 1883+ Staffordshire potteries
Jones, Frederick (& Co) 1865-1886 Staffordshire potteries
Jones, George c.1854 Staffordshire potteries
Jones, George (& Sons) 1861-1951 Staffordshire potteries
Kennedy, Henry (Barrowfield Pottery) 1866-1929 Glasgow
Kidston, R A & Co (Verreville Pottery) c.1838-c.1846 Glasgow
Lebeuf Milliet et Cie 1841-1876 Creil, France
Liddle, Elliot & Son 1862-1871 Staffordshire potteries
Liddle, Mayer & Elliott c.1861-c.1862 Staffordshire potteries
Lovatt & Lovatt 1895+ Nottingham
Maddock & Seddon c.1839-1842 Staffordshire potteries
Maddock, John 1842-1855 Staffordshire potteries
Maling, Robert (Maling's Ousebourn Pottery) c.1817-1859 Newcastle (UK)
Mayer, Thomas 1826-1838 Staffordshire potteries
Meakin, Alfred 1875-1897 Staffordshire potteries
Meakin, Alfred Ltd. 1897+ Staffordshire potteries
Meakin, J. & G. 1851+ Staffordshire potteries
Mellor, Taylor & Co. 1880-1904 Staffordshire potteries
Mellor, Venables & Co. 1834-1851 Staffordshire potteries
Methven, David (& Sons) (Links Pottery) 1847-1928 Kirkcaldy, Fife
Minton 1793+ Staffordshire potteries
Moore, (Samuel) & Co. 1803-1874 Sunderland
Morely, Francis (& Co.) 1845-1858 Staffordshire potteries
Murray, W.F. & Co. (Ltd.) (Caledonian Pottery) 1870-1898 Glasgow
New Wharf Pottery Co. 1878-1894 Staffordshire potteries
Old Hall Earthenware Company 1861-1886 Staffordshire potteries
Phillips, George 1834-1848 Staffordshire potteries
Pinder, Bourne & Co. 1862-1882 Staffordshire potteries
Pinder, Bourne & Hope 1851-1862 Staffordshire potteries
Podmore, Walker & Co. 1834-1859 Staffordshire potteries
Port Dundas Pottery Co. 1828-1932 Glasgow
Pountney & Goldney 1836-1849 Bristol
Powell & Bishop 1876-1878 Staffordshire potteries
Powell, Bishop & Stonier 1878-1891 Staffordshire potteries
Powell, William c.1830-1906 Bristol
Rathbone, Smith & Co. 1883-1897 Staffordshire potteries
Regout, Petrus c.1836-1899 Maastricht, Netherlands
Ridgway, John (& Co) c.1830-1855 Staffordshire potteries
Ridgway, John, Bates & Co. 1856-1858 Staffordshire potteries
Ridgway, Morley, Wear & Co. 1836-1842 Staffordshire potteries
Ridgway, William (& Co.) c.1830-1854 Staffordshire potteries
Robinson Brothers 1897-1904 Castleford, Yorkshire
Robinson, Joseph 1876-1898 Staffordshire potteries
Robinson, Wood & Brownfield 1838-1841 Staffordshire potteries
Rogers, John & George c.1784-1814 Staffordshire potteries

70
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Sharpe, Brothers & Co. 1838+ Swadlincote, Derbyshire

Sharpe, Thomas c.1821-1838 Swadlincote, Derbyshire
Shaw, Anthony (& Co. / & Son) 1851-c.1900 Staffordshire potteries
Spode, Josiah 1784-1833 Staffordshire potteries
Stevenson, Ralph c.1810-1832 Staffordshire potteries
Stiff, James (& Sons) c.1840-1913 Lambeth, London
Sunderland Pottery c.1807-1865 Sunderland
Swansea Pottery c.1783-1870 Swansea
Thomson, John (Annfield Pottery) c.1816-c.1887 Glasgow
Toft & May c.1825-c.1829 Staffordshire potteries
Townsend, George c.1850-1864 Staffordshire potteries
Turner, G. W. & sons 1873-1895 Staffordshire potteries
Turner, John c.1762-1806 Staffordshire potteries
Venables & Baines c.1851-1853 Staffordshire potteries
Venables, John & Co. 1853-1855 Staffordshire potteries
Wallace, (J.) & Co. 1838-1893 Newcastle (UK)
Wedgwood c.1759+ Staffordshire potteries
Wileman, Henry 1860-1864 Staffordshire potteries
Wileman, James 1869-1892 Staffordshire potteries
Withinshaw, W. E. 1873-1878 Staffordshire potteries
Wood & Brownfield 1838-1850 Staffordshire potteries
Wood, Challinor & Co. c.1860-1864 Staffordshire potteries
Wood, John Wedg(e) 1841-1860 Staffordshire potteries
Wood & Son(s) 1865+ Staffordshire potteries

71
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Appendix B:
Pottery Timeline
Pottery Dates Australian History Dates

1606 Earliest recorded contact between Europeans and

Indigenous Australians when the Dutch ship Dwyflken
reaches the western Cape York Peninsula.
1616 Dutch explorer Dirk Hartog reaches Western
Australia
1642 Abel Tasman reaches Tasmania, claiming it for the
Netherlands under the name 'Van Dieman's Land
1688 British explorer William Dampier reaches Western
Australia
Buckleyware c.1700-c.1900
Black basalt 1750+
Creamware c.1760-c.1830
1770 Captain James Cook reaches eastern Australia and claims
possession for Britain
Pearlware c.1780-c.1830
Blue underglaze transfer prints c.1780+
Rococo shell edge (mean dates) c.1784-c.1812
1788 The First Fleet reaches New South Wales – foundation of
Sydney
Annular decoration c.1790+ 1790 The Second Fleet reaches Sydney
Standard 'Willow' transfer print first produced c.1790
Peak of industrial slip production
(including mocha) c.1790-c.1830
Peak of commercial lustre production c.1790-c.1850
1791 The Third Fleet reaches Sydney
English bone china 1794+
Engine-turned earthenware c.1795-c.1830
Tin-glaze tableware production ceases c.1800 1800 European population of New South Wales reaches
about 6000, half of whom live in Sydney
1801 Foundation of Newcastle (NSW) penal station
Even scallop, impressed curved lines shell edge
(mean dates) c.1802-c.1832 1802 Mathew Flinders circumnavigates Australia
1803 First unsuccessful official attempt to settle Victoria, at
modern Sorrento on the Mornington Peninsula
1804 Foundation of Hobart & Launceston (TAS)
Early whitewares first developed c.1805
Even scallop, impressed straight lines
shell edge (mean dates) c.1809-c.1831
1815 First free settlers arrive in Tasmania
Whiteware as dominant refined earthenware c.1820+
Sprigged decoration introduced c.1820
1821 Foundation of Port Macquarie (NSW) penal settlement
Embossed shell edge (mean dates) c.1823-c.1835
1824 Foundation of Moreton Bay (QLD) penal settlement;
Trading base at Melville Island (NT) established
1825 Moreton Bay settlement moved and renamed Brisbane;
Tasmania (still called Van Dieman's Land) becomes a
separate colony
1826 Foundation of King George Sound penal settlement
(WA); second unsuccessful official attempt to settle
Victoria, at Corinella, Western Port
1827 Melville Island post abandoned – Fort Wellington
established on Cobourg peninsula (NT)
Green, red, yellow and black
underglaze transfer prints c.1828
1829 Captain Fremantle formally takes possession of Western
Australia
Yellowware c.1830+ 1830 Foundation of the Port Arthur penal settlement (TAS);
theTasmanian 'Black Line'
Tin-glaze ointment jar production ceases c.1830
1831 Government-assisted free migration from Britain begins
Earliest possible date for production of 'Asiatic Pheasant' 1834

72
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

Bristol-glazed stoneware c.1835+ 1835 John Batman explores Port Phillip – Foundation of
Melbourne (VIC)
Cut-sponged c.1835+
1836 Settlement of South Australia
1837 Queen Victoria succeeds to the throne
1838 Foundation of Port Essington, Cobourg Peninsula (NT)
1839 Port Darwin (NT) charted and named
Polychrome transfer prints c.1840 1840 Transportation of convicts to NSW ends; Treaty of
Waitangi in New Zealand; major economic depression in
Australia through 1840s
Unscalloped impressed shell-edge (mean dates) c.1841-c.1857
Diamond-shaped registry marks in use 1842-1883
White granite c.1845-c.1890
Flow blue exports begin c.1845
1849 Abandonment of Port Essington temporarily ends British
presence on north coast
1850 Transportation of convicts to Western Australia begins;
Port Phillip separated from New South Wales and
renamed Victoria
1851 Gold discovered in NSW and Victoria – Australian gold
rush begins
1853 Chinese population on Victorian goldfields exceeds 2000;
last convicts transported to Tasmania
1854 The Eureka Stockade
1855 Chinese population on Victorian goldfields exceeds
20000
1856 Van Diemen's Land officially renamed Tasmania
1859 Queensland separated from New South Wales
Stand-alone banded decoration c.1860+ 1860 Burke and Wills leave Melbourne
1861 Telegraph links Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney and
Brisbane; American Civil War begins
1862 John McDouall Stuart reaches the north coast of
Australia
1863 South Australia annexes the Northern Territory; Pacific
Island Labourers first brought to Queensland –
blackbirding begins
1865 American Civil War ends
1868 Last convict transport arrives at Fremantle (WA)
1870 All British troops in Australia withdrawn
1872 Overland telegraph from Port Augusta (SA) to Port
Darwin (NT) completed
Unscalloped unmoulded shell edge (mean dates) c.1874-c.1884
1877 Port Arthur penal settlement closes; foundation of
Hermannsburg (NT) mission
1880 Kelly Gang occupies Glenrowan hotel – Ned Kelly
hanged
1881 First census records non-Indigenous population of 2.3
million

New design registration numbers begin at '1' 1884 1885 Gold discovered in Western Australia
Rd.No. 19754 registered in January 1885 1886 Disbanding of last convict establishments in Western
Australia
1889 Adelaide, Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane
linked by rail - albeit with different rail gauges
in each colony
1890 Major economic depression in Australia
through 1890s
Rd.No. 141273 registered in January 1890
Decals introduced in Britain c.1890 1891 Census records non-Indigenous population of 3.2
million;National Australasian Convention in Sydney
1892 Sheep population of Australia is approximately 100
million
1894 South Australian women granted full voting rights
1895 ‘Waltzing Matilda’ performed publicly for the first time
Rd.No. 246975 registered in January 1895 1897 All colonies except Queensland send representatives to
National Australasian Convention in Adelaide
1899 Boer War begins – colonial Australian troops sent to
South Africa

73
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

1900 Commonwealth of Australia Constitution Act passed

by UK parliament
Rd.No. 351202 registered in January 1900
Decals becoming more common on
British wares c.1900+ 1901 Federation – Commonwealth of Australia created;
death of Queen Victoria

Figure C.1: Reading registration marks (adapted from Godden 1991: 527)

Two slightly different versions of the same shape of registration mark were used between 1842 to 1883. The left hand version, with the parcel number
at the bottom, was used to 1867, and the right hand version, with the parcel number on the left, was used for the final 15 years. The year and month
use a non-chronological alphabet-based code system.

Years:
1842-1867

A: 1845 N: 1864
B: 1858 O: 1862
C: 1844 P: 1851
D: 1852
E: 1855 Q: 1866
F: 1847 R: 1861
G: 1863 S: 1849
H: 1843 T: 1867
I: 1846 U: 1848
J: 1854
K: 1857 V: 1850
L: 1856 W: 1865
M: 1859

1868-1883

A: 1871 L: 1882
C: 1870 P: 1877
D: 1878 S: 1875
E: 1881
F: 1873 U: 1874
H: 1869 V: 1876
I: 1872 W: (Mar.) 1878
J: 1880 X: 1868
K: 1883 Y: 1879
Months (same code system for both periods):

A: December K: November
B: October (and December 1860)
C or O: January M: June
D: September R: August
E: May (and September 1-9 1857)
G: February W: March
H: April
I : July

74

Appendix C:
Further Reading
The following list of books is an annotated guide to building
a very basic ceramics reference collection. The list largely
focuses on the identification and dating of British ceramics
from the colonial period at the expense of analytical
discussions. It is nowhere near comprehensive, and is
imperfectly divided into archaeology and art
history/collectors sections. No doubt many specialists will
have other favourites and recommendations beyond this short
list of books and papers, but the works mentioned here should
be enough for a basic reference library – it can be added to as
and when individuals see fit or deem necessary.
ART HISTORY/COLLECTORS
The most useful guide to the identification of British pottery
marks, and arguably the one indispensable book on the shelf
of anyone trying to identify British ceramics is Godden’s
Encyclopaedia of British Pottery and Porcelain Marks
(1991). While not as completely comprehensive as generally
believed, it remains by far the best guide to its topic. Almost
as indispensable as Godden are the two volumes of Coysh
and Henrywood’s Dictionary of Blue and White Printed
Pottery 1780-1880 (1982; 1986). This can be used not only
to identify many transfer prints, but also as a cross-
referencing tool for pottery manufacturers listed in and
identified through Godden – particularly since Coysh and
Henrywood offer more in the way of discussion than Godden.
Still useful – but not quite as indispensable – are the two
volumes of Staffordshire Romantic Transfer Prints (Williams
1978; Williams and Weber 1986). These books feature a
catalogue of hundreds of nineteenth-century transfer prints,
every one of them illustrated. Unfortunately, much of the
information on pattern maker and date is unreliable, and
information on patterns identified in Williams should be
cross-referenced with Coysh and Henrywood where possible.
On the more specialised front, Kelly’s Scottish
Ceramics (1999) is the best illustrated modern guide to its
subject, though the book is organised by factory name rather
than manufacturer name (a subtle but important distinction).
This means that the names on Scottish makers’ marks are not
always identifiable through the table of contents, requiring a
bit of a search through the pages. Riley’s 1991 book Gifts for
Good Children; The History of Children’s China 1790-1890
is an extensively illustrated guide to a sometimes
understudied part of the ceramics record, but perhaps suffers
very slightly from the use of a somewhat arbitrary division of
decorative motifs. Copeland’s Spode’s Willow Pattern and
Other Designs After the Chinese (1990) is an excellent guide
to the subtleties of Chinese-influenced patterns such as
‘Willow’ and ‘Two Temples’. Finally, the level of the
occurrence of white granite in Australia may still be a matter
of some debate, but Dieringer and Dieringer’s somewhat
confusingly named White Ironstone China Plate
Identification Guide 1840-1890 (2001) is probably the most
useful guide to this pottery type. It consists of an extensively
illustrated list of dated and named white granite rim-moulded
plate designs, all organised by increasing level of complexity,
and featuring the names of the original British manufacturers
of specific patterns.
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
ARCHAEOLOGY
The single most important archaeological text on the
identification of nineteenth-century British ceramics arguably
remains Majewski and O’Brien’s ‘The Use and Misuse of
Nineteenth-Century English and American Ceramics in
Archaeological Analysis’ (1987). This work could help to
correct many common ceramics misconceptions if it were
consulted more widely, though the discussion of ‘ironstone’
is perhaps now slightly dated as there is little mention of
white granite.
After Majewski and O’Brien, the archaeological
literature is surprisingly light on reliable guides to the
identification of ceramics relevant to the Australian colonial
period, though the new Ceramics In America series (Hunter
2001, 2002) will no doubt make significant contributions in
this area. Miller’s ‘Telling Time for Archaeologists’ (2000)
features extensive cited lists of dates for several artefact types,
with a particular focus on ceramics. Miller’s work on ceramics
in general occupies a seminal and vitally important place in the
archaeological literature, but caution should be taken with
applying some of the data in ‘Telling Time…’ in Australia as
many of the dates are either pre-1788 or are based on American
data. It nonetheless remains a potentially useful source of both
dates and references. Miller’s two papers on the CC Index
(1991a; 1991b) remain indispensable reading for anyone
hoping to understand archaeological discussions of relative
cost, but his typologies of ware and form can be slightly
confusing to those who have not previously encountered
Miller’s terminology. Those interested in the construction of
functional categories in catalogues should have at least a
passing familiarity with South’s Method and Theory in
Historical Archeology (1977). Sussman’s Spode/Copeland
Transfer-Printed Patterns Found at 10 Hudson’s Bay Company
Sites (1979) may seem not entirely relevant in its geographical
scope, but its illustrated catalogue of Spode patterns in a British
colonial setting has obvious applications in an Australian
context, and is a useful addition to any reference library when
a copy can be tracked down (many of Parks Canada’s excellent
archaeology publications are often frustratingly out of print).
Within the Australian literature, Erskine’s Kingston
Ceramics; A Dictionary of Ceramic Wares in the Norfolk
Island Museum (2003) provides an excellent guide to the
identification of many printed patterns common across eastern
Australia, though the dates Erskine uses are for the mark on the
illustrated example only, not for the pattern as a whole, and
should therefore not be used to date unmarked examples.
Users of Erskine should be aware of some minor problems of
terminology: the mark on the so-called ‘Nantilly’ pattern on
page 76 has been misread – this is actually the Chantilly pattern
(see Williams and Weber 1986:565); the ‘Weed’ pattern on
page 99 is far more commonly described (and marked as)
Fibre; the name of the gilded (more specifically gilt-banded)
decoration on page 60 has been incorrectly spelled (as
‘guilded’); finally, the introductory discussion of Kingston
ceramics starting on page 7 uses the incorrect term ‘feather-
edge’ to describe shell-edged vessels, and uses ‘ironstone’ in
a misleading fashion. But these items cover only a small
minority of the items discussed in Erskine, and as long as
these issues are kept in mind, the book will often prove
invaluable for pattern identification.
75
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Appendix D:
The Society for Historical Archaeology’s
STANDARDS and GUIDELINES for the CURATION of
ARCHAEOLOGICAL COLLECTIONS
Originally published in The Society for Historical
Archaeology Newsletter [vol. 26, no. 4] December 1993.
Also accessible through www.sha.org. This appendix
follows the original format, including the original
American spellings.
INTRODUCTION
Archaeologists have an ethical obligation to
preserve the data they collect during archaeological
projects for future generations. The following standards
and guidelines were developed by The Society for
Historical Archaeology with the explicit goals of
permitting the long-term preservation of archaeological
collections and maintaining their research and public
education values. These SHA standards are in accordance
with the more general federal regulations issued as 36
CFR Part 79: Curation of Federally-Owned and
Administered Archaeological Collections. For the
purposes of archaeological curation, the following terms
are employed:
Archaeological Collections are comprised of several
components, including but not limited to artifacts,
environmental and dating samples, field documentation,
laboratory documentation, photographic records, related
historical documents, and reports.
Curation is an integral element of the archaeological
process and refers to the long-term management and
preservation of archaeological materials and their
associated documentation.
Curation Facility is a designated repository for
archaeological materials, which can provide accountable,
professional curation of collections in a secure, climate-
controlled environment on long-term basis.
Due to its significance, planning for curation
should begin in the project design phase through
consultation with the curatorial facility, which will
ultimately receive the collection. Curation expenses and
storage fees must be considered in the preparation of
project budgets.
RECOMMENDATIONS
The following recommendations for the
processing and storage of archaeological materials
represent the minimum standards, which are essential if
our professional responsibility to preserve archaeological
76
collections for the future is to be realized.
1. ARTIFACT CLEANING
All artifacts should be cleaned unless this will harm the
object or result in the loss of potential data (i.e., blood-
residue analysis). Cleaning is necessary for the accurate
identification and study of most artifact types.
Appropriate cleaning procedures depend upon the type
and condition of the material. Due care must be exercised
during the cleaning process to insure that the integrity and
information value of the object is maintained.
2. ARTIFACT LABELING
2a. Artifacts must be labeled in such a way that the site
and intrasite provenience data are retrievable. Labeling
must be done in a permanent and archivally stable
manner. Where direct labeling on the object is not
feasible, other archivally stable methods of permanently
maintaining the relationship between an artifact and its
provenience may be used (i.e., string tags with acid-free
paper for beads).
2b. All diagnostic artifacts must be labeled whenever
physically possible. If not appropriate, the object must be
packaged in archivally stable materials, which are
permanently labeled.
2c. When certain less-diagnostic artifact types occur in
large quantities within a specific provenience, all specimens
need not be individually labeled. Examples include but are
not limited to slag, shell, fire cracked rocks, flakes, window
glass, brick, mortar, plaster, and coal (exceptions should
include unusual specimens or those of particular research
potential). These artifacts may be grouped by material type
and placed in a resealable plastic bag with the exterior
permanently labeled. In the bag with less diagnostic artifacts,
a Mylar or an acid-free paper slip labeled with the
provenience information must be included. Other material
classes not appropriate for individual labeling (i.e., floral
remains, soil samples) should be stored in suitable labeled
containers with a labeled Mylar strip placed inside.
2d. All faunal material, which can be physically labeled,
should be labeled. Bones too small for individual
marking should be placed in a labeled, resealable plastic
bag. It is recommended that bones within a provenience
unit be bagged separately by zoological class to prevent or
reduce the crushing of fragile remains.
2e. An explanation of the label information, including
locational data about the excavation units, must be

submitted with the collection. It is suggested that one
copy be stored with the site artifacts and one with the
documentation.
3. STORAGE
3a. The most suitable artifact storage container currently
available is the polyethylene, zip-lock-type plastic bag.
Unless the curation facility requires a different container,
these should be used. Paper bags and polyethylene bags
of less than 2 mm thickness are not acceptable for
permanent curation. Exceptionally large or unusually
shaped artifacts may require different methods but should
be stored using archivally stable materials. Bags should
be perforated to allow air exchange and inhibit the
development of unwanted microenvironments. Use of
unperforated bags, however, may sometimes be
appropriate for very climate-sensitive artifacts, which
need special storage conditions, such as iron.
3b. It is recommended that all bags be permanently
labeled with the appropriate site and provenience
information. For certain fragile or sensitive materials
(i.e., C14 samples or floral remains), standard-sized glass
or other archivally stable containers labeled with the
provenience data are recommended.
3c. Artifact storage boxes must be made of archivally
stable materials and standard sized. The curation
repository will determine the specific type. Consultation
with the curation facility before containers are purchased
is highly recommended. Artifacts must be packed in such
a way as to avoid crushing or otherwise damaging them.
It is also mandatory that all packing materials be
archivally stable.
3d. All storage containers must be labeled with the site
and provenience information. Rather than direct marking
of the box, a transparent label holder affixed to the
container is suggested. Listing the contents of the box
may be appropriate.
3e. If storage is to be by provenience unit, certain artifact
classes (i.e., ceramic vessels, bottles) should be retained
in their analytic categories. They should not be
disassembled nor the sherds returned to their original
provenience for storage. Notation should be made in the
provenience-unit documentation that these artifacts are
stored elsewhere.
3f. All slides, black-and-white negatives, and prints are to
be stored in archivally stable materials.
4. DOCUMENTATION
Records, notes, reports, catalogs, related historical
documents, and photographs are integral components of
an archaeological collection. They must be submitted
with the artifacts for permanent curation. Two copies of
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
all records are recommended. Paper documentation
should be on acid-free paper. Readable copies reproduced
by a heat fusion process (e.g., photocopy) are acceptable.
Documentation must include the following:
Ownership document (legal title) for archaeological
materials with a complete listing of all components of the
collection including the number of containers, their
contents and associated provenience units, and all
accompanying documentation.
Catalog of the artifacts by provenience unit, recognizing
that there are different levels of cataloging. At a
minimum, catalogs must include an identification of the
object, material of manufacture, and quantification (count
and/or weight).
Description of the artifact according to the best current
levels of professional knowledge is recommended where
possible. Notation regarding artifacts stored outside of
their provenience unit should be included.
Copy of the final report, site location data, project scope
of work, and any relevant historical documentation
pertaining to the site.
Statement indicating whether conservation treatment was
performed, a list of those objects treated, and a complete
description of the treatments used. If conservation was
not complete, a list of those objects requiring immediate
attention must be included.
Archivally stable photocopy of all original field and
laboratory documentation.
Master set of permanent black-and-white photographs,
negatives, color slides, and videotapes using the best
current standard films and papers. Slides should be
unprojected originals or copies. All photographic material
should be minimally labeled with the site, provenience,
and catalog number using archivally stable methods.
Catalog of all photographic materials describing the
images.
Electronic data (i.e., tape, disks) may accompany the
documentation and must be accompanied by a by a
statement describing the system and software used and the
content of each disk, tape, etc. Standardized methods for
the storage of electronic data will likely be developed in
the future.
5. CONSERVATION
5a. All archaeological excavation carries the professional
obligation to preserve the materials recovered through
both proper curation and appropriate conservation
treatments. Conservation of perishable material is an
ethical responsibility and an essential element in the
archaeological process. Project design should include a
77
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
consideration of conservation needs and the funding
requirements for this essential service.
5b. Conservation is especially critical for underwater sites
of all kinds and can cost up to twice the expense of the
fieldwork. Excavation of an underwater site must not be
undertaken without conservation facilities established
beforehand and adequate funding for conservation
dedicated to the project.
5c. Conservation treatments must be appropriate to the
artifact’s material and its condition, and should reflect the
best current standards in methodology and materials. All
treatments must be carried out by or under the supervision
of an adequately trained professional. All treatments must
be fully documented. This documentation must form a
part of the site’s permanent archive.
5d. The decision to conserve any artifact or class of
artifacts is a complex one. It may reflect, in different
cases, the condition, uniqueness, research potential, or the
exhibit potential of an artifact. It may also reflect the
availability of long-term storage under controlled
environmental conditions and the degree to which those
conditions may be achieved and precisely controlled.
Consultation with the curation facility regarding this
subject is strongly recommended.
6a. Repositories used for the permanent curation of
archaeological collections must provide, at a minimum,
(1) physical security, (2) climate control, (3) fire
suppression, (4) collection monitoring, and (5) access by
qualified researchers. These requirements demand
adequate space and resources dedicated to the purpose of
curation. Curation space within a repository must be
organized to allow controlled access, efficient collection
retrieval, and optimum preservation. A professional staff,
safe and secure storage, effective fire protection, disaster
and pest management plans are essential. Collections
should be isolated from work areas and people to the
extent possible.
6b. For many historic artifacts, climate control is crucial
to reduce their rate of deterioration and minimize the need
for conservation treatment. Relative humidity (RH) and
temperature must be continually monitored and controlled
to minimize harmful fluctuations. Control of light levels,
especially ultraviolet (UV) radiation is also needed.
Regular inspection to detect insect, rodent, or other
biological problems; assess structural defects in the
physical plant; and monitor the condition of the artifacts is
essential. Specific guidelines for humidity, temperature,
and light control are as follows:
Relative Humidity: Due to the extreme sensitivity of
many artifacts to RH, control of RH is crucial. For most
objects, RH should be kept between 40–60per cent with
monthly fluctuations of less than 5per cent. Iron and some
other materials require much lower RH levels for long-
term preservation.
78
Temperature: Normally, lower temperatures are better
for artifact curation because chemical and biological
activity increases with higher temperatures. In areas
where people are present, the temperature should remain
between 65º F and 70º F. For storage spaces where people
are seldom present, temperatures in the 40º F to 60º F
range are desirable. Temperatures in a collections area
should never exceed 75º F. Abrupt changes in
temperature, which put great stress on artifacts, must be
prevented.
Light (UV Radiation): Light levels in collections should
not exceed 150 lux (15 footcandles). Control of UV
radiation is necessary to protect containers and their labels
from deterioration. All light sources should be filtered for
UV radiation.
6c. Where possible, the repository selected for curation
should be in the same state as the site or in a facility that
stores materials from the same region. Preference should
be given to a facility that curates other collections from the
same site or site area.
7. DEACCESSIONING
7a. The discarding of archaeological materials by a
curation facility is not recommended because discard or
deaccessioning can jeopardize the ability to study the
primary site data, particularly because current levels of
knowledge may not adequately recognize the research
value of certain artifact classes. Exceptions are live
ammunition, toxic or radioactive materials, and other
hazardous substances. However, deactivation of historic
ammunition rather than discard is suggested to preserve
this often-rare material culture.
7b. In decisions regarding any deaccessioning, materials
recovered from good archaeological contexts should be
given the greatest priority for retention. First, effort should
be made to find a repository that will accept material to be
deaccessioned. If unsuccessful, placement in a stable
environmental setting, which permits later retrieval of the
material, is strongly encouraged. Decisions about any
deaccessioning of archeological materials should be made
by or in consultation with professional archaeologists.
Any deaccessioning must be fully documented, including
a thorough description of the material, the procedures used
for selection of the artifacts, the sampling techniques
employed, and the final destination of the material. This
additional documentation must be filed with the primary
site documentation. Adequate samples should be retained
of any material classes that are deaccessioned. Defining
what is an adequate sample will vary by material and
should take into account the range of variation within a
particular artifact class.
 An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.

8. HUMAN REMAINS

Archaeologists can encounter human remains during, and these

materials may be curated. All human remains must be treated
in a dignified manner and with respect for the deceased
individuals. Due to the wide range of potential situations,
specific treatment and the ultimate deposition of human
remains must be handled case by case and in accordance with
applicable laws and religious traditions.

79
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Bibliography
ADAMS, W.H. 2003. ‘Dating Historical Sites: the
Importance of Understanding Time Lag in the
Acquisition, Curation, Use and Disposal of Artifacts’,
Historical Archaeology, 37(2): 38-64.
ADAMS, W.H. and S.J. BOLING 1991. ‘Status and
Ceramics for Planters and Slaves on Three Georgia
Coastal Plantations’, in G.L. Miller, O. Jones, L. Ross,
and T. Majewski (compilers) Approaches to Material
Culture Research for Historical Archaeologists, Society
for Historical Archaeology, Tucson, pp. 59-86.
ADENY, J. 1989. ‘Incised and Impressed Decoration on
Wedgwood’, in Thirty-Fourth Annual Wedgwood
International Seminar April 12, 13, 14 and 15, 1989:
Pottery and Porcelain on Peachtree Street, High Museum
of Art and The Ceramic Circle of Atlanta, Atlanta, pp.
103–124.
ALLAN, J.P. 1984. Medieval and Post-Medieval Finds
from Exeter, 1971-1980, Exeter City Council and The
University of Exeter, Exeter.
ALLEN, D. 1991. ‘Four Bellarmine “Witch Bottles” from
Abbotts Ann, Hampshire’, in E. Lewis (ed.), Custom and
Ceramics; Essays Presented to Kenneth Barton, APE,
Wickham, pp.147-156.
ALLEN, J. 1969. Archaeology and the History of Port
Essington, Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, Australian National
University, Canberra.
ALLEN, J. 1978. ‘The Archaeology of Nineteenth
Century British Imperialism: An Australian Case Study’,
in R. Schuyler (ed.), Historical Archaeology: A Guide to
Substantive and Theoretical Contributions, Baywood
Publishing Company, Farmingdale, pp. 139-148.
ALLISON, P.M. 1998. ‘The Household in Historical
Archaeology’, Australasian Historical Archaeology, 16:
17-29.
AMOURIC, H., F. RICHEZ and L. VALLAURI 1999.
Vingt Mille Pots Sous Les Mers; Le Commerce de la
Céramique en Provence et Languedoc du Xe au XIXe
Siècle, Edisud, Aix-En-Provence.
ATKINS, M. 1991. ‘Not to be Excelled for Elegance or
Utility: A Study of the Availability of Ceramics in Sydney
1803-1868’, Unpublished Honours Thesis, University of
Sydney, Sydney.
BARKER, D. 1991. William Greatbatch: A Staffordshire
Potter, Antique Collector’s Club, London.
BARKER, D. 1996. ‘A Note on the Surface Finds from
Port Egmont’, in R. Philpott, ‘An Archaeological Survey
of Port Egmont, The First British Settlement in the
80
Falkland Islands’, Post-Medieval Archaeology, 30: 54-55.
BARKER, D. 2002a. ‘Ironstone’, In C.E. Orser (ed.) The
Encyclopedia of Historical Archaeology. Routledge,
London, pp.300-301.
BARKER, D. 2002b. ‘Pearlware’, In C.E. Orser (ed.) The
Encyclopedia of Historical Archaeology. Routledge,
London, pp.415-416.
BARTON, K.J. 1967. ‘The Origins of the Society for
Post-Medieval Archaeology’, Post-Medieval
Archaeology, 1: 102-103.
BAVIN, L. 1989. ‘Behind the Façade: The Expression of
Status and Class in Material Culture’, The Australian
Journal of Historical Archaeology, 7: 16-22.
BEAUDRY, M., L. COOK and S. MROZOWSKI 1991.
‘Artifacts and Active Voices: Material Culture as Social
Discourse’, in R. McGuire and R. Paynter (eds), The
Archaeology of Inequality, Blackwell, Oxford, pp. 150-
191.
BEAUDRY, M., J. LONG, H. MILLER, F. NEIMAN and
W. STONE 1991. ‘A Vessel Typology for Early
Chesapeake Ceramics: The Potomac Typological
System’, in G.L. Miller, O. Jones, L. Ross, and T.
Majewski (compilers) Approaches to Material Culture
Research for Historical Archaeologists, Society for
Historical Archaeology, Tucson, pp.11-36.
BEBB, L. 1997. Welsh Pottery, Shire Publications,
Princes Risborough, Buckinghamshire.
BICKFORD, A. 1971. ‘James King of Irrawang: A Colonial
Entrepreneur’, Journal of the Royal Australian Historical
Society, 57(1): 40-57.
BINFORD, L. 1978. ‘A New Method of Calculating Dates
from Kaolin Pipe Stem Samples’, in R. Schuyler (ed.)
Historical Archaeology: A Guide to Substantive and
Theoretical Contributions, Baywood Publishing Company,
New York, pp. 66-67.
BINFORD L. and S. BINFORD (eds) 1968. New
Perspectives in Archaeology, Aldine Publishing Company,
New York.
BINNS, C.F. 1907. The Manual of Practical Potting, Scott,
Greenwood and Son, London.
BIRMINGHAM, J. 1988a. ‘The Refuse of Empire:
International Perspectives on Urban Rubbish’, in J.
Birmingham, D. Bairstow and A. Wilson (eds), Archaeology
and Colonisation: Australia in the World Context, Australian
Society for Historical Archaeology, Sydney.

BIRMINGHAM, J. 1988b. ‘An Introduction: Colonial
Perceptions and Archaeological Contexts’, in J.
Birmingham, D. Bairstow and A. Wilson (eds)
Archaeology and Colonisation: Australia in the World
Context, Australian Society for Historical Archaeology,
Sydney.
BIRMINGHAM, J. 1990. ‘A Decade of Digging:
Deconstructing Urban Archaeology’, in The Australian
Journal of Historical Archaeology, 8: 13-22.
BIRMINGHAM, J. 1992a. ‘Meaning from Artefacts: A
Question of Scale’, Australasian Historical Archaeology,
10: 30-35.
BIRMINGHAM, J. 1992b. Wybalenna: The Archaeology
of Cultural Accommodation in Nineteenth Century
Tasmania, The Australian Society for Historical
Archaeology, Sydney.
BIRMINGHAM, J. and D. BAIRSTOW 1987. Papers in
Australian Historical Archaeology, Australian Society for
Historical Archaeology, Sydney.
BIRMINGHAM, J. and K. FAHY 1987. ‘Old Australian
Pottery’, in J. Birmingham, and D. Bairstow (eds), Papers
in Australian Historical Archaeology, Australian Society
for Historical Archaeology, Sydney, pp. 7-11.
BLAKE, M.E. and M.D. FREEMAN 1998. Nineteenth-
Century Transfer-Printed Ceramics from the Texas Coast:
The Quintana Collection, Prewitt and Associates, Inc.,
Austin, Texas.
BOSOMWORTH, D. 1991. The Victorian Catalogue of
Household Goods, Studio Editions, London.
BRAUDEL, F. 1979. Civilisation and Capitalism: 15th -
18th Century (Volume 3), Harper and Row, New York.
BRASSEY, R. 1991. ‘Clay Tobacco Pipes from the Site of
the Victoria Hotel, Auckland, New Zealand’, in The
Australian Journal of Historical Archaeology, 9: 27-30.
BROOKS, A.M. 1997. ‘Beyond the Fringe: Transfer-
Printed Ceramics and the Internationalisation of Celtic
Myth’, International Journal of Historical Archaeology,
1(1): 39-55.
BROOKS, A.M. 1999. ‘Building Jerusalem: Transfer-
Printed Finewares and the Creation of British Identity’, in
S. Tarlow and S. West (eds), The Familiar Past?
Archaeologies of Later Historical Britain, Routledge,
London, pp. 51-65.
BROOKS, A.M. 2000. ‘The Comparative Analysis of
Late 18th- and 19th-Century Ceramics – A Trans-Atlantic
Perspective’, Unpublished DPhil Thesis, University of
York, York.
BROOKS, A.M. 2002. ‘The Cloud of Unknowing:
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Towards an International Comparative Analysis of
Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century Ceramics’,
Australasian Historical Archaeology, 20: 48-57.
BROOKS, A.M. 2003. ‘Crossing Offa’s Dyke: British
Ideologies and Late Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century
Ceramics in Wales’, in S. Lawrence (ed.) Archaeologies
of the British, Routledge, London, pp. 119-137.
BUCKHAM, S. 1999. ‘“The Men that Worked for
England, They Have their Graves at Home”: Consumerist
Issues Within the Production and Purchase of Gravestones
in Victorian York’, in S. Tarlow and S. West (eds), The
Familiar Past? Archaeologies of Later Historical Britain,
Routledge, London, pp. 199-214.
CARNEY, M. 1998. ‘A Cordial Factory at Parramatta,
New South Wales’. Australasian Historical Archaeology,
16: 80-93.
CARPENTIER, D. and J. RICKARD 2001. ‘Slip
Decoration in the Age of Industrialisation’, in R. Hunter
(ed.) Ceramics in America 2001, Chipstone Foundation,
London, pp.115-134.
CASELLA, E.C. 2001. ‘Every Procurable Object: A
Functional Analysis of the Ross Female Factory
Archaeological Collection’. Australasian Historical
Archaeology, 19: 25-38.
CASEY, M. 1999. ‘Local Pottery and Dairying at the
DMR Site, Brickfields, Sydney, New South Wales’,
Australasian Historical Archaeology, 17: 3-37.
CASEY & LOWE 2000. Archaeological Investigation,
CSR Site, Pyrmont (Jacksons Landing), Casey & Lowe,
Marrickville, New South Wales.
CASEY & LOWE 2002. Archaeological Investigation,
Conservatorium Site, Macquarie Street, Sydney, Casey
and Lowe, Marrickville, New South Wales.
CHAMBERS 1990. Chambers English Dictionary, W&R
Chambers, Edinburgh.
CHEEK, C.D., R. YAMIN, D.B. HECK, L.E. RAYMER
and L.D. O’STEEN 1994. Phase III Data Recovery;
Mechanic Street Site (18AG206), Station Square Project,
Cumberland, Maryland, Maryland State Highway
Administration Archeological Report Number 69, John
Milner Associates, Alexandria, Virginia.
COLEMAN-SMITH, R. and T. PEARSON 1988.
Excavations in the Donyatt Potteries, Phillimore,
Chichester.
CONNAH, G. 1983. Stamp-Collecting or Increasing
Understanding? The Dilemma of Historical Archaeology’,
Australasian Historical Archaeology, 1:15-21.
CONNAH, G. 1988. ‘Of the Hut I Builded’; The
81
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Archaeology of Australia’s History,
University Press, Cambridge.
CONNAH, G. 2002. ‘Twenty Years On…’, Australasian
Historical Archaeology, 20: 5-7.
CONNAH, G., M. ROWLAND and J. OPPENHEIMER
1978. Captain Richards’ House at Winterbourne: A Study
in Historical Archaeology, Department of Prehistory and
Archaeology, University of New England, Armidale,
NSW.
COOK, L., R. YAMIN and J. MCCARTHY 1996.
‘Shopping as Meaningful Action: Towards a Redefinition
of Consumption in Historical Archaeology’, Historical
Archaeology, 30(4): 50-65.
COPELAND, R. 1990. Spode’s Willow Pattern and Other
Designs After the Chinese, Studio Vista, London.
COUTTS, P.J.F. 1984. Captain Mills Cottage, Port Fairy,
Victoria, Records of the Victorian Archaeological Survey
Number 17, Victoria Archaeological Survey, Melbourne.
COUTTS, P.J.F. 1985. Report on Archaeological
Investigations at the 1826 Settlement Site – Corinella,
Records of the Victorian Archaeological Survey Number
18, Victoria Archaeological Survey, Melbourne.
COYSH, A.W. and R.K. HENRYWOOD 1982. The
Dictionary of Blue and White Printed Pottery 1780-1880,
Volume 1, Antique Collectors’ Club, Woodbridge, Suffolk.
COYSH, A.W. and R.K. HENRYWOOD, 1986. The
Dictionary of Blue and White Printed Pottery 1780-1880,
Volume 2, Antique Collectors’ Club, Woodbridge, Suffolk.
CREMIN, A. (ed.) 2000. 1901: Australians at Federation,
An Illustrated Chronicle, University of New South Wales
Press, Sydney.
CROOK, P. 2000. ‘Shopping and Historical Archaeology:
Exploring the Contexts of Urban Consumption’,
Australasian Historical Archaeology, 18: 17-28.
CROOK, P., L. ELLMOOS and T. MURRAY 2003.
Archaeology of the Modern City Series, Volumes 1-7,
Historic Houses Trust of New South Wales, 2003.
CROOK, P., S. LAWRENCE and M. GIBBS 2002. ‘The
Role of Artefact Catalogues in Australian Historical
Archaeology: A Framework for Discussion’, Australasian
Historical Archaeology, 20: 26-38.
CUMBERPATCH, C. and P.W. BLINKHORN (eds)
1997. Not so Much a Pot, More a Way of Life, Oxbow,
Oxford.
DAVIES, M. and K. BUCKLEY 1987. Archaeological
Procedures Manual: Port Arthur Conservation and
Development Project, Department of Lands, Parks and
82
Cambridge Wildlife, Hobart.
DAVIES, P. 2001. “Isolation and Integration: The
Archaeology and History of an Otways Forest
Community”, Unpublished PhD thesis, La Trobe
University, Melbourne.
DAVIES, P. 2002. ‘“A Little World Apart…”: Domestic
Consumption at a Victorian Forest Sawmill’, Australasian
Historical Archaeology, 20: 58-66.
DEAGAN, K. 1982. ‘Avenues of Inquiry in Historical
Archaeology’, Advances in Archaeological Method and
Theory 5: 151-178.
DEAGAN, K. 1988. ‘Neither History nor Prehistory: The
Questions that Count in Historical Archaeology’,
Historical Archaeology, 22(1): 7-12.
DEETZ, J. 1996. In Small Things Forgotten: The
Archaeology of Early American Life, Anchor Books, New
York.
DIERINGER, E. and B. DIERINGER, 2001. White
Ironstone China, Schiffer, Atglen, Pennsylvania.
DIXSON, M. 1999. The Imaginary Australian; Anglo-
Celts and Identity - 1788 to the Present, University of
New South Wales Press, Sydney.
DRAPER, J. 1984. Post-Medieval Pottery 1650-1800,
Shire Publications, Aylesbury.
EDWARDS, D. 1994. Black Basalt: Wedgwood and
Contemporary Manufacturers, Antique Collectors’ Club,
Woodbridge, Suffolk.
ERSKINE, N. 2003. Kingston Ceramics: A Dictionary of
Ceramic Wares in the Norfolk Island Museum, Norfolk
Island Museum, Kingston.
EVISON, V.I., H. HODGES and J.G. HURST (eds) 1974.
Medieval Pottery from Excavations: Studies Presented to
Gerald Clough Dunning, John Baker, London.
EWINS, N. 1997. ‘“Supplying the Present Wants of our
Yankee Cousins...”: Staffordshire Ceramics and the
American Market 1775-1880’, Journal of Ceramic
History 15.
FORD, G. 1995. Australian Pottery: The First 100 Years,
Salt Glaze Press, Wodonga.
FOSTER, P. 1995. ‘The Early Modern Pottery’, in K.
Branigan and P. Foster Barra: Archaeological
Excavations on Ben Tangaval, Sheffield Academic Press,
Sheffield, pp. 117-118.
FERGUSON, L. 1992. Uncommon Ground; Archaeology
and Early African America 1650-1800, Smithsonian
Institution Press, Washington.

GAIMSTER, D. 1997. German Stoneware 1200-1900,
British Museum Press, London.
GAIMSTER, D. and M. REDKNAPP (eds) 1992.
Everyday Life and Exotic Pottery from Europe C.650-
1900; Studies in Honour of John Hurst, Oxbow Books,
Oxford.
GLEESON, J. 1998. The Arcanum, Warner Books, New
York.
GODDEN, G.A. 1991. Encyclopaedia of British Pottery
and Porcelain Marks (corrected edition), Barrie and
Jenkins, London.
GODDEN, G.A. 1999. Godden’s Guide to Ironstone:
Stone and Granite Wares. Antique Collectors’ Club,
Woodbridge, Suffolk.
GOETZE, C.E. and B.J. MILLS 1993. ‘Ceramic
Chronometry’ in B. J. Mills, C. E. Goetze, and M. N.
Zedeno (eds) Interpretation of Ceramic Artifacts, Across
the Colorado Plateau: Anthropological Studies for the
Transwestern Pipeline Expansion Project, Volume XVI,
Office of Contract Archeology and Maxwell Museum of
Anthropology, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque,
pp. 87-150.
GOFF, J. and L.S. REED 1998. ‘Classification Criteria for
Temper, Generic Ceramic Types, and Specific Ceramic
Types’, in L.S. Reed, J. Goff, and K.N. Hensler, Exploring
Ceramic Production, Distribution, and Exchange in the
Southern Chuska Valley: Analytical Results from the El
Paso Natural Gas North System Expansion Project,
Pipeline Archaeology 1990-1993: The El Paso Natural Gas
North System Expansion Project, New Mexico and
Arizona, Vol. XI, Technical Report No. WCRM (F)035,
Western Cultural Resource Management, Farmington,
New Mexico, pp. 2-74.
GOJAK, D. and I. STUART 1999. ‘The Potential for the
Archaeological Study of Clay Tobacco Pipes from
Australian Sites’. Australasian Historical Archaeology,
17: 38-49.
GRAHAM, M. nd. Printed Ceramics in Australia,
Australian Society for Historical Archaeology Occasional
Paper No.2, Australian Society for Historical Archaeology,
Sydney.
GRUBER, A. 1991. ‘The Archaeology of Mr. Jefferson’s
Slaves’, Unpublished MA Thesis, University of Delaware.
HARRINGTON, J.C. 1978. ‘Dating Stem Fragments of
Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Clay Tobacco
Pipes’, in R. Schuyler (ed) Historical Archaeology: A
Guide to Substantive and Theoretical Contributions,
Baywood Publishing Company, New York, pp. 63-65.
HARRISON, R. 2002. ‘Australia’s Iron Age: Aboriginal
Post-Contact Metal Artefacts from Old Lamboo Station,
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Southeast Kimberley, Western Australia’, Australasian
Historical Archaeology, 20: 67-76.
HAYDEN, A. 1912. Chats on English Earthenware, T.
Fisher Unwin, London.
HEATH, B. 1991. ‘A Report on the Archaeological
Excavations at Monticello, Charlottesville, VA; The
Stewart/Watkins House 1989-1990’, Thomas Jefferson
Memorial Foundation, Charlottesville.
HERITAGE VICTORIA 2004. ‘Archaeological Artefacts
Management Guidelines (Version 2)’, Heritage Victoria,
Melbourne.
HENRY, S. 1991 ‘Consumers, Commodities, and Choices:
A General Model of Consumer Behavior’, Historical
Archaeology, 25(2): 3-14.
HILL, V. 1998. ‘The Welsh Village, Near Castlemaine,
Victoria: A Study of People in the Landscape’,
Australasian Historical Archaeology 16: 60-69.
HUNTER, R. (ed.) 2001 Ceramics in America 2001,
Chipstone Foundation, London.
HUNTER. R. (ed.) 2002 Ceramics in America 2002,
Chipstone Foundation, London.
HUNTER, R. and G.L. MILLER 1994. ‘English Shell-
Edged Earthenware’, The Magazine Antiques 165(3): 432-
443.
HURST, J.G. 1974. ‘Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century
Imported Pottery from the Saintonge’, in V.I. Evison, H.
Hodges, and J.G. Hurst (eds), Medieval Pottery from
Excavations; Studies Presented to Gerald Clough
Dunning, John Baker, London, pp. 221-255.
HURST, J.G. 1991. ‘Antiquarian Finds of Medieval and
Later Pottery’, in E. Lewis (ed), Custom and Ceramics;
Essays Presented to Kenneth Barton, APE, Wickham,
pp.7-24.
IOANNOU, N. 1987. ‘A German Potter in the Barossa
Valley, South Australia, c.1850-1883’, The Australian
Journal of Historical Archaeology, 5:29-40.
JENKINS, J.G. 1968. ‘Post-Medieval Archaeology and
Folk-Life Studies’, Post-Medieval Archaeology 2:1-9.
JOHN MILNER ASSOCIATES 1994. ‘New Artifact
Code’, John Milner Associates, Inc., Alexandria, Virginia.
JONES, O. and C. SULLIVAN 1989. The Parks Canada
Glass Glossary, Canadian Parks Service, Ottawa.
KARSKENS, G. 2003. ‘Revisiting the Worldview: The
Archaeology of Convict Households in Sydney’s Rocks
Neighbourhood’, Historical Archaeology, 37(1): 34-55.
83
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
KELLY, H. 1996. ‘Crockery’, in N. Emery, Excavations
on Hirta 1986-90, HMSO, Edinburgh, pp.19-20, 68-70,
120-123, 153-154, and 193.
KELLY, H. 1999. Scottish Ceramics, Schiffer Publishing,
Atglen, Pennsylvania.
KELLY, M. 1997. Anchored in a Small Cove; A History
and Archaeology of the Rocks, Sydney, Sydney Cove
Authority, Sydney.
KING, J. and H. MILLER 1991. ‘The View from the
Midden: An Analysis of Midden Distribution and
Composition at the Van Sweringen Site, St. Mary’s City,
Maryland’, in G.L. Miller, O. Jones, L. Ross and T.
Majewski (compilers), Approaches to Material Culture
Research for Historical Archaeologists, Society for
Historical Archaeology, Tucson, Arizona, pp.331-353.
KLOSE, J. and A. MALAN 1993. Ceramics of the
Southwestern Cape, 1650 to 1850, HARG Handbook
Number 1, Capetown.
KLOSE, J. and A. MALAN 2000. ‘The Ceramic
Signature of the Cape in the Nineteenth Century, With
Particular Reference to the Tennant Street Site, Cape
Town’, South African Archaeological Bulletin, 55: 49-59.
KOVEL R. and T. KOVEL 1995. Kovel’s Dictionary of
Marks; Pottery and Porcelain 1650 to 1850, Crown
Publishers, New York.
KOWALSKY, A.A. and D.E. KOWALSKY 1999.
Encyclopedia of Marks on American, English, and
European Earthenware, Ironstone, Stoneware, 1780-
1980, Schiffer, Atglen, Pennsylvania.
LAWRENCE, S. 1998. ‘The Role of Material Culture in
Australasian Archaeology’, Australasian Historical
Archaeology 16: 8-15.
LAWRENCE, S. 2000. Dolly’s Creek; An Archaeology of
a Victorian Goldfields Community, Melbourne University
Press, Melbourne.
LAWRENCE, S. 2001. ‘Foodways on Two Colonial
Whaling Stations: Archaeological and Historical
Evidence for Diet in Nineteenth Century Tasmania’,
Journal of the Royal Australian Historical Society, 87(2):
209-229.
LAWRENCE, S. 2003. ‘Exporting Culture: Archaeology
and the Nineteenth-Century British Empire’, Historical
Archaeology, 37(1): 20-33.
LAWRENCE, S. and G. KARSKENS (eds) 2003. ‘Recent
Work in Historical Archaeology in Australia and New
Zealand’, Historical Archaeology, 37(1).
LEONE, M.P. 1989. ‘The Relationship Between
Archaeological Data and the Documentary Record: 18th
84
Century Gardens in Annapolis, Maryland’, Historical
Archaeology, 22: 29-35.
LEONE, M. and P. SHACKEL 1987. ‘Forks, Clocks, and
Power’. In D.W. Ingersoll and G. Bronitsky (eds), Mirror
and Metaphor: Material and Social Constructions of
Reality, University Press of America, Lanham, Maryland,
pp. 45-61.
LEWIS, E. 1991a. ‘The Blackwater Potteries Revisited’,
in E. Lewis (ed.) Custom and Ceramics: Essays Presented
to Kenneth Barton, APE, Wickham.
LEWIS, E. (ed) 1991b. Custom and Ceramics: Essays
Presented to Kenneth Barton, APE, Wickham.
LEWIS, J. 1982. The Ewenny Potteries, National
Museum of Wales, Cardiff.
LINDBERGH, J. 1999. ‘Buttoning Down Archaeology’,
Australasian Historical Archaeology, 17: 50-57.
LITTLE, B. 1994. ‘People with History: An Update on
Historical Archaeology in the United States’, Journal of
Archaeological Method and Theory, 1(1): 5-40.
LOCKETT, T.A. 1982. ‘Caneware’, in T. A. Lockett and
P. A. Halfpenny (eds) Stoneware & Stone Chinas of
Northern England to 1851, City Museum and Art Gallery,
Stoke-on-Trent, pp. 93–97.
LUEBBERS, R. 1995. ‘Artefact Typology and Inventory,
National Hotel and Gisborne Mains: A Supplement to
Excavation Reports on Two Historic Sites on the Calder
Highway’, Report to VICROADS, Melbourne.
LYDON, J. 1993a. ‘Archaeology in the Rocks, Sydney,
1979-1993: From Old Sydney Gaol to Mrs. Lewis’
Boarding House’, Australasian Historical Archaeology,
11: 33-42.
LYDON, J. 1993b. ‘Task Differentiation in Historical
Archaeology: Sewing as Material Culture’, in H. Du Cros
and L.J. Smith (eds) Women in Archaeology: A Feminist
Critique, Research Papers in Archaeology and Natural
History, Australian National University, Canberra.
LYDON, J. 1998. ‘Boarding Houses in the Rocks: Mrs.
Ann Lewis’ Privy, 1865’, in M.Casey, D. Donlon, J. Hope
and S. Wellfare (eds) Redefining Archaeology: Feminist
Perspectives, Australian National University, Canberra,
pp.138-146.
LYDON, J. 1999. Many Inventions; The Chinese in the
Rocks, 1890-1930, Monash Publications in History,
Monash University, Melbourne.
MAJEWSKI, T. 2002. ‘Makers’ Marks’, In C.E. Orser
(ed.) The Encyclopedia of Historical Archaeology.
Routledge, London, pp.323-325.

MAJEWSKI, T. and M.J. O’BRIEN 1987. ‘The Use and
Misuse of Nineteenth-Century English and American
Ceramics in Archaeological Analysis’, Advances in
Archaeological Method and Theory, 11: 97-209.
MAJEWSKI, T. and M.B. SCHIFFER 2001. ‘Beyond
Consumption: Toward an Archaeology of Consumption’,
in V. Buchli and G. Lucas (eds) Archaeologies of the
Contemporary Past, Routledge, London, pp. 26–50.
MATTHEWS, K. 1999. ‘Familiarity and Contempt; The
Archaeology of the “Modern”’, in S. Tarlow and S. West
(eds) The Familiar Past? Archaeologies of Later
Historical Britain, Routledge, London, pp. 155-179.
MARTIN, A.S. 1996. ‘Frontier Boys and Country
Cousins: The Context for Choice in Eighteenth-Century
Consumerism’, in L. DeCunzo and B. Herman (eds)
Historical Archaeology and the Study of American
Culture, The Henry Francis du Pont Winterthur Museum,
Winterthur, pp. 71-102.
MARTIN, A.S. 2001. ‘Magical, Mythical, Practical and
Sublime: The Meanings and Uses of Ceramics in
America’, in R. Hunter (ed.) Ceramics in America 2001,
Chipstone Foundation, London, pp.29-46.
McCRAY, W.P. and T. MAJEWSKI 2000. ‘Appendix:
Compositional Analysis of Ceramic Gorget Fragment from
Fort Union (32WI17)’, Historical Archaeology, 34(4):
117-121.
MILLER, G.L. 1986. ‘Of Fish and Sherds: A Model for
Estimating Vessel Populations from Minimum Vessel
Counts’, Historical Archaeology, 20(2): 59-85.
MILLER, G.L. 1987. ‘Origins of Josiah Wedgwood’s
Pearlware’, Northeast Historical Archaeology 16: 80-92.
MILLER, G.L. 1991a. ‘Classification and Economic
Scaling of 19th-Century Ceramics’, in G.L. Miller, O.
Jones, L. Ross, and T. Majewski (compilers) Approaches
to Material Culture Research for Historical
Archaeologists, Society for Historical Archaeology,
Tucson, pp. 37-58.
MILLER, G.L. 1991b. ‘A Revised Set of CC Index Values
for Classification and Economic Scaling of English
Ceramics from 1787 to 1880’, Historical Archaeology,
25(1):1-25.
MILLER, G.L. 1993. ‘A User’s Guide to Ceramics
Assemblages: Part Four; Some Thoughts on Classification
of White Earthenwares’, Council for Northeast Historical
Archaeology Newsletter No.26 (Nov. 1993), pp. 4–7.
MILLER, G.L. 2000. ‘Telling Time for Archaeologists’,
Northeast Historical Archaeology, 29: 1-22.
MILLER, G.L. and R.H. HUNTER 1990. ‘English Shell
Edged Earthenware: Alias Leeds, Alias Feather Edge’,
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Thirty-Fifth Wedgwood International Seminar, pp.201-
232.
MILLER, G.L. and R.H. HUNTER 2001. ‘How
Creamware Got the Blues: The Origins of China Glaze and
Pearlware’, in R. Hunter (ed.) Ceramics in America 2001,
Chipstone Foundation, London, pp.135-161.
MOIR, R. 1997. ‘Exploring Creamware-Pearlware-
Whiteware-Ironstone Categories through Form-Specific
Attributes: Basic Concepts in Ceramic Analyses and
Interpretation’, unpublished round table discussion paper,
SHA Conference, Corpus Christi, Texas, January 1997.
MURRAY, T. and A. MAYNE 2003. ‘(Re) Constructing a
Lost Community: “Little Lon,” Melbourne, Australia’,
Historical Archaeology, 37:87-101.
MUSGRAVE, E. 1997. ‘Family, Household and
Production: The Potters of the Saintonge, France, 1500-
1800’, in C. Cumberpatch and P.W. Blinkhorn (eds) Not so
Much a Pot, More a Way of Life, Oxbow, Oxford, pp.85-
94.
NOËL HUME, I. 1962. ‘An Indian Ware of the Colonial
Period’, Quarterly Bulletin, Archaeological Society of
Virginia 17:1.
NOËL HUME I. 1970. A Guide to Artifacts of Colonial
America, Alfred A. Knopf, New York.
NOËL HUME I. 2001. If These Pots Could Talk,
Chipstone Foundation, London.
ORSER, C.E. 2003. ‘Post-Processual Archaeology’, in
C.E. Orser (ed) The Encyclopedia of Historical
Archaeology, Routledge, London, pp.444-447.
ORTON, C. 1985. ‘Two Useful Parameters for Pottery
Research’, in Computer Applications in Archaeology
1985, Proceedings of the Conference on Quantitative
Methods, Institute of Archaeology, London, pp.114-120.
ORTON, C. and P. TYERS 1990. ‘Statistical Analysis of
Ceramics Assemblages’, Archeologia e Calcolatori, 1:81-
110.
ORTON, C., P. TYERS, and A. VINCE 1993. Pottery in
Archaeology, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.
OTTO, J.S. 1980. ‘Race and Class on Antebellum
Plantations’, in R. Schuyler (ed.) Archaeological
Perspectives on Ethnicity in America. Baywood
Publishing, Farmingdale (New York), pp.3-13.
OWEN, J.V. 2002. ‘Antique Porcelain 101: A Primer on
the Chemical Analysis and Interpretation of Eighteenth-
Century British Wares’, in R. Hunter (ed.) Ceramics in
America 2002, Chipstone Foundation, London, pp.39-61.
PEARCE, J. 2000. ‘A Late 18th-Century Inn Clearance
85
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
Assemblage from Uxbridge, Middlesex’, Post-Medieval
Archaeology 34: 144-186.
PRAETZELLIS A. and M. PRAETZELLIS 1997. ‘A
Connecticut Merchant in Chinadom: A Play in One Act’.
Historical Archaeology 32(1): 86-93.
POGUE, D. and E. WHITE 1991. ‘Summary Report on
the “House for Families” Slave Quarter Site
(44FX762/40-47) Mount Vernon Plantation, Mount
Vernon, Virginia’, Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association,
Mount Vernon.
POOL, D. 1993. What Jane Austen Ate and Charles
Dickens Knew; From Fox Hunting to Whist - the Facts of
Daily Life in 19th-Century England, Simon and Schuster,
New York.
REED, P.F., and K.N. HENSLER 1999. Anasazi
Community Development in Cove-Redrock Valley: Final
Report on the Cove-Red Valley Archaeological Project
along the N33 Road in Apache County, Arizona, Navajo
Nation Papers in Anthropology No. 33. Navajo Nation
Archaeology Department, Window Rock, Arizona.
RENFREW, C. and P. BAHN 1996. Archaeology;
Theories, Method and Practice (second edition), Thames
and Hudson, London.
RICKARD, J. 1993. ‘Mocha Ware: Slip-decorated
Refined Earthenware’, The Magazine Antiques, August
1993.
RILEY, N. 1991. Gifts for Good Children; The History of
Children’s China, Part I, 1790-1890, Richard Dennis,
Ilminster, Somerset.
RITCHIE, N. 2003. ‘“In-Sites,” Historical Archaeology in
Australasia: Some Comparisons with the American
Colonial Experience’, Historical Archaeology, 37(1): 6-
19.
RITCHIE, N. and S. PARK 1987. ‘Chinese Coins Down
Under: Their Role on the New Zealand Goldfields’, The
Australian Journal of Historical Archaeology, 5: 41-48.
RUBERTONE, P.E. 2000. ‘The Historical Archaeology of
Native Americans’, Annual Review of Anthropology 29:
425-446.
SAMFORD, P. 1997. ‘Response to a Market: Dating
English Underglaze Transfer-Printed Wares’, Historical
Archaeology 31(2): 1-30.
SHACKEL, P. 1993. Personal Discipline and Material
Culture; An Archaeology of Annapolis 1695-1870, The
University of Tennessee Press, Knoxville.
SCOTT, E. 1997. ‘“A Little Gravy in the Dish and Onions
in a Tea Cup”: What Cookbooks Reveal About Material
86
Culture’, International Journal of Historical
Archaeology, 1(2):131-155.
SOCIETY FOR HISTORICAL ARCHAEOLOGY 1993.
‘Standards and Guidelines for the Curation of
Archaeological Collections’, The Society for Historical
Archaeology Newsletter, 26(4).
SOUTH, S. 1977. Method and Theory in Historical
Archaeology, Academic Press, New York.
SPENCER-WOOD, S. (ed) 1987. Consumer Choice in
Historical Archaeology, Plenum Press, New York.
STANIFORTH, M. 1987. ‘The Casks from the Wreck of
the William Salthouse’, The Australian Journal of
Historical Archaeology, 5: 21-28.
STANIFORTH, M. 1995. ‘Dependent Colonies: The
Importation of Material Culture in the Australian Colonies
(1788-1850)’, in Underwater Archaeology Proceedings,
SHA Conference 1995, Society for Historical
Archaeology, Tucson, pp.159-164.
STANIFORTH, M. 2003a. ‘Annales-Informed
Approaches to the Archaeology of Colonial Australia’,
Historical Archaeology, 37(1): 102-113.
STANIFORTH, M. 2003b. Material Culture and
Consumer Society: Dependent Colonies in Colonial
Australia, Plenum, New York.
STANIFORTH, M. and M. NASH 1998. Chinese Export
Porcelain from the Wreck of the Sydney Cove (1797),
Special Publication No. 12, The Australian Institute for
Maritime Archaeology.
STARR, F. 2001. ‘Convict Artefacts from the Civil
Hospital Privy on Norfolk Island’, Australasian
Historical Archaeology, 19: 39-47
STUART, I. 1991. ‘Glass Bottles from the Loch Ard
Shipwreck (1878): A Preliminary Study’, Australasian
Historical Archaeology, 9: 31-36.
SUSSMAN, L. 1979. Spode/Copeland Transfer-Printed
Patterns Found at 20 Hudson’s Bay Company Sites,
Canadian Historic Sites Occasional Papers in
Archaeology and History No.22, Parks Canada, Ottawa.
SUSSMAN, L. 1997. Mocha, Banded, Cat’s Eye and
Other Factory-Made Slipware, Studies in Northeast
Historical Archaeology No.1, Council for Northeast
Historical Archaeology, Boston.
SUSSMAN, L. 2000. ‘Objects Vs. Sherds: A Statistical
Evaluation’, in K. Karklins (ed) Studies in Material
Culture Research, Society for Historical Archaeology,
Uniontown, Pennsylvania, pp.96-103.

SVEINBJARNARDÓTTIR, G. 1996. Leirker á Íslandi –
Pottery Found in Excavations in Iceland, thjódminjasafn
Íslands, Reykjavík.
THOMPSON, C. and A. WILSON 1987. ‘A Guide to the
Identification of Nineteenth Century Ceramic Body
Types’, The Australian Society for Historical Archaeology
Research Bulletin, 5: 1-4.
THOMPSON, R.F. and J. CORNET 1987. ‘Bottomless
Vessels: Sounding the Sea of Kalunga’, in D.W. Ingersoll
and G. Bronistsky (eds) Mirror and Metaphor: Material
and Social Constructions of Reality, University Press of
America, Lanham, Maryland, pp. 83-111.
UNGAR, E. 1987. ‘The Mashman Bros. Pottery’, in J.
Birmingham, and D. Bairstow (eds) Papers in Australian
Historical Archaeology, Australian Society for Historical
Archaeology, Sydney, pp. 69-76.
VINCENTELLI, M. 1992. Llestri Llafar - Talking Pots,
The University College of Wales, Aberystwyth.
VYNER, B. and S. WRATHMELL (eds) 1987. Medieval
and Later Pottery in Wales; Presented to J.M. Lewis,
University College, Cardiff.
WADE, J. 1987. ‘Excavations in Mary Anne Street,
Ultimo, N.S.W.’, in J. Birmingham and D. Bairstow (eds)
Papers in Australian Historical Archaeology, Australian
Society for Historical Archaeology, Sydney, pp. 91-100.
WALL, D.D. 1995. ‘Sacred Dinners and Secular Teas:
Constructing Domesticity in Mid-19thth-Century New
York’, Historical Archaeology, 25(4): 69-81.
WATSON, D. 1984. Caledonia Australis: Scottish
highlanders on the frontier of Australia, Collins, Sydney.
WEATHERILL, L. 1996. Consumer Behaviour and
Material Culture in Britain 1660-1760 (second edition),
Routledge, London.
WEBSTER, J. 1999. ‘Resisting Traditions: Ceramics,
Identity, and Consumer Choice in the Outer Hebrides
from 1800 to the Present’ International Journal of
Historical Archaeology, 3(1): 53-73.
WESSON, J.P. 1983. ‘A First Bibliography of Historical
Archaeology in Australia’, The Australian Journal of
Historical Archaeology, 1: 22-34.
WHITEHEAD, J. and C. WHITEHEAD 1798. Designs of
Sundry Articles of Earthen-Ware. Birmingham, Thomas
Pearson.
WILLIAMS, P. 1978. Staffordshire Romantic Transfer
Patterns, Fountain House East, Jeffersontown, Kentucky.
An Archaeological Guide to British Pottery in Australia, 1788-1901.
WILLIAMS, P. 1981. Flow Blue; An Aid to Identification
(revised edition), Fountain House East, Jeffersontown,
Kentucky.
WILLIAMS, P. and M. WEBER 1986. Staffordshire II
Romantic Transfer Patterns, Fountain House East,
Jeffersontown, Kentucky.
WILSON, A. 1988. ‘A Failed Colonial Squire: Sir John
Jamison at Regentville’, in J. Birmingham, D. Bairstow
and A. Wilson (eds) Archaeology and Colonisation:
Australia in the World Context, Australasian Society for
Historical Archaeology, Sydney pp. 123-138.
WILSON, G.C. 1999a. Wapping – Parcel 2, Hobart,
Tasmania. Archaeological Investigation 1998, Artefact
Report – Ceramics, Austral Archaeology Pty. Ltd.,
Adelaide.
WILSON, G.C. 1999b. ‘Ceramics and Tobacco Pipe
Artefact Report’, in The Cumberland/Gloucester Streets
Site, The Rocks: Archaeological Investigation Report,
Volume 4, Part 1 – Specialist Reports, Godden Mackay
Logan, Sydney, pp.207-366.
YENTSCH, A. 1991a. ‘Engendering Visible and Invisible
Ceramic Artifacts, Especially Dairy Vessels’, Historical
Archaeology 25(4): 132-155.
YENTSCH, A. 1991b. ‘The Symbolic Divisions of
Pottery: Sex-Related Attributes of English and Anglo-
American Household Pots’, in R. McGuire and R. Paynter
(eds) The Archaeology of Inequality, Blackwell, London.
YOUNG, L. 2003. Middle Class Culture in the Nineteenth
Century: America, Australia and Britain, Palgrave
Macmillan, London.
ZIERDAN, M. 1999. ‘A Trans-Atlantic Merchant’s
House in Charleston: Archaeological Exploration of
Refinement and Subsistence in an Urban Setting’,
Historical Archaeology 33(3): 73-87.
87