The ‘ arts of design, ever cultivated by civilized nations’, observed the eminent antiquary Richard Gough in the preface to his British Topography (1780), ‘are the happiest vehicles of antiquarian knowledge’ (Gough 1780, xxxviii). At the time of writing, Gough was halfway through his twenty-year-long tenure as director of the Society of Antiquaries of London (SAL), and his comment was inspired by exasperation rather than celebration. Gough admonished his countrymen for ‘penetrat[ing] the wilds of Europe, and the desarts [sic] of Asia and Africa, for the remains of Grecian, Roman, and earlier architecture, yet no artist offers himself a candidate for fame in preserving those of our forefathers in their own country’ (xxiv). Surveying the scattered attempts of British antiquaries to put together a visual record of native antiquities, Gough noted that roughly half a century after the publication of Bernard de Montfaucon’s monumental Les monumens de la monarchie françoise (1729–33), Britain still lacked a similar ‘system of […] antiquities’ that was ‘illustrated with representations from original monuments’ (xli) and manuscripts. Just as irksome to Gough was the SAL’s recent swerve towards financing extravagantly costly prints that tapped into the contemporary vogue for history painting. The SAL’s decision to publish large-scale prints of grand historical scenes from the reign of Henry VIII, taken from wall paintings at Windsor and Cowdray, had ‘give[n] the public two or three pieces of English history’, Gough grumbled, ‘while such a work as Montfaucon’s might have been carried on at an easier expence and greater advantage in every respect’ (xli). Gough’s comments are not just a symptom of internal institutional wrangling: they also raise wider questions pertinent to the relationship between antiquarian research and the visual arts that I explore in this chapter. Gough’s concerns preoccupied many other antiquaries of this period: which modes of visual mediation are most conducive to the generation of antiquarian knowledge? What kind of information about the past is encoded in historical paintings, visual documents and monuments – and how can it be unlocked? Can, and should, the imperatives of empirical documentation be reconciled with matters of aesthetic taste? What role have the arts to play in the communication of antiquarian information to the wider public?

Introduction

Pursuing pathways to care is critical in the movement towards genuinely addressing the health status, and its relationship to dementia amongst Indigenous older adults in their communities. The proportion of Indigenous older adults who are above 65 years of age continues to rise despite the numbers being lower than for their non-Indigenous counterparts. In 2016, the population Indigenous older adults above 65 was 7.3% compared to 4.6% in 2006, and this is expected to double by 2036 (Statistics Canada, 2017). Along with an aging population, there is also an increase in the rates of dementia among Indigenous Peoples in Canada (Jacklin et al, 2013). Dementia can represent a concern for families, preventing individuals from aging in place and causing distress to individuals and their caregivers. People living with dementia in rural communities experience a dearth of dementia care and services (Jacklin and Warry, 2012). The lack of access to dementia services and specialists in rural communities further exacerbates families’ ability to care for their loved ones at home. Understanding the needs of individuals living with dementia, their families, and culturally safe dementia services can be explored through community-based research. A new aspect of dementia care in the twenty-first century is the introduction of technology, which can now be used for anything from remote access to medical appointments to aiding the at-home continuing care of patients. However, many older adults, especially Indigenous older adults living in rural or remote communities, lack the skills and infrastructure to access this technology. This chapter presents an examination of dementia among Indigenous peoples, including dementia care, and rural access to care. This is further substantiated with an example of community-based research (in the form of sharing circles and one-on-one interviews) completed by the Morning Star Lodge of Regina, Saskatchewan, in the File Hills Qu’Appelle Tribal Council's (FHQTC) 11 First Nations communities to better understand the support needed for Indigenous older adults living with dementia.

Rising rates of dementia

There has been a rapid increase in dementia rates among Indigenous communities in Canada in recent years. It has been documented that the rates of dementia are 34% higher than that of non-Indigenous people (Jacklin and Warry, 2012; Jacklin and Walker, 2019).

The effects of the Indian Uprising in the Crown colonies; the education of Indian children in Mauritius; the system for indentured Indian workers and security concerns across the Empire; George Grey and the Cape Colony during the Indian Uprising; the restructuring of imperial governance and construction of a new building for imperial administration.

The Eastern Cape Frontier; colonial Humanitarianism and the Aborigines Committee; Anna Gurney, the Protectorates of Aborigines; the Myall Creek massacre; representative government in Australia and the Cape Colony; reconciling settler colonialism with humanitarianism.

The events which had their genesis around the year 1857 saw some 40 000 amaXhosa starve to death on the borders of the Cape Colony; around 2300 British and allied soldiers and 30 000 Chinese killed in the Second Opium War, and some 3000 British and more than 100 000 Indian soldiers killed in the Indian Uprising and its aftermath. Hundreds of thousands of civilian subjects of colour, whom the colonial authorities never counted, were killed by British forces in the ‘Devil’s wind’ in India and the shelling and ransacking of Chinese towns and cities. What can only be described as British imperial hubris had played a major role in bringing about each of these simultaneous crises. These casualties were the unacknowledged cost of Britain’s newly assertive, mid-Victorian, civilising mission – a mission more usually associated with the endeavours of the anti-slavery missionary-explorer David Livingstone, to whom we will return in Part III.

Liberalism in India and the Empire; the Morant Bay rebellion in Jamaica; the 1878-9 Indian famine; confederation policies for the settler colonies and the idea of ‘Greater Britain’.

It has always been easier to define liberalism by what it is not rather than what it is. Never a coherent programme of governance, it emerged in modern Europe and its offshoots as an expression of the rights of individuals against arbitrary, absolutist governance. Rights of Assembly, representative government, free trade and trial by an independent judiciary had, initially, to be won in Britain through radical agitation. By no coincidence, this occurred at the very time that its governing elites were consolidating a vastly expanded empire in the wake of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars. During our first snapshot of that empire’s governance, in 1838, a liberal order was just emerging in Britain, the new prosperity gained from colonialism being as much a part of that process as the Reform Act of 1832 or the agitation against the Corn Laws. By the mid nineteenth century, British liberals believed in free trade as an economic principle, and as the appropriate response to colonial famines, first in India, then in Ireland and the Cape Colony. The 1867 Reform Act consolidated liberal governance in Britain by extending the franchise again, at the same time that arbitrary rule over black people in Jamaica was condoned. In the mid 1870s, a new feature was added to Britain’s liberal dispensation as Disraeli’s ‘One Nation Tory’ government intervened in housing, working conditions and the education of the workforce.