Under the rocks and stones there is water underground

Living in Christchurch, I am grateful for many things, especially the quality of the tap water.  In Christchurch we are very lucky because our tap water is of such purity that it doesn’t need to be treated with chlorine like many cities have to, which means it tastes so good [never fear – the Council closely monitors quality]. Christchurch’s water is so pure because it comes not from river, stream, or desalination plant, but is sourced from natural underground reservoirs called aquifers – water saturated geological substrata that lie at great depth beneath the city. The story of Christchurch water is an interesting one and lately in the office we’ve been talking a lot about the subject, especially after the recent discoveries of some fascinating old wells in the central city. So, grab a glass of two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen and stick around for a taste of what we have learnt about water supply in 19th century Christchurch from archaeology.

The first brick well of 2017. Well, can you feel the excitement? Image: Angel Trendafilov.

Christchurch was quite unusual compared to most other cities as the local council built a sewerage system (this was completed in late 1882) long before it laid on a high pressure piped water supply (works began on this in 1909). Historically it’s usually the other way round – first comes water then comes the sewers, if both of these weren’t constructed at the same time. Part of the reason for this was the fact that Christchurch was built on a swamp next to a river, so finding water was not a particularly difficult task for early settlers.

As things typically are on a swamp, you don’t have to dig very deep to hit the water table, so shallow wells were reasonably commonplace in the first few decades of the settlement. We have found a good number of these shallow wells – mostly of a circular shape, with an average diameter of 900 mm and lined with bricks. The depth of those has varied somewhat. The shallowest we have found was only 1.6 m deep, and the deepest went down more than 3 m. Often however we don’t get to excavate them in their entirety, either because of safety considerations, or because the depth of the excavation means that the bottoms of these features can stay in situ.

This brick lined well took the top prize for best well of 2016, SCIRT found it when they were laying a new sewer mains in Richmond. The bricks that lined the upper part of the well were missing – salvaged for reuse we reckon. Image: Hamish Williams.

On a Lichfield Street site we found a well that was lined not with bricks but with two wooden barrels stacked atop each other. At the bottom of this barrel well was a large block of porous limestone – we reckon this functioned as a water filter. We can only guess how effective this was.

The barrel lined well – the timber staves were very well preserved. At left is the outside of both barrels, and at right after we sectioned it, showing the fill inside. Unlike a lot of infilled wells, this one didn’t contain very many artefacts. Both image: Hamish Williams.

The bottom of the barrel well was filled with fine grey silt not dissimilar to liquefaction silt- was this well abandoned because it silted up as a result of a 19th century earthquake event? Hamish still ponders this – but he will probably never ever know for certain because Underground Overground Archaeology’s flux capacitor is broken. Image: Hamish Williams.

The problem with shallow wells was that they got easily contaminated – many people got crook and some even died from drinking sewage contaminated water. To some extent this problem was overcome by the council banning long drops/privys and their subsurface cesspits, and later with the construction of a proper sewer system, but mostly it was the geological discovery of the artesian aquifer system below the city. Because these artesian aquifers were located super deep, there was a much lesser risk of their becoming contaminated.

When the groundwater in an aquifer is under pressure greater than the pressure that exists at ground level, these waters are called artesians. If the geology is just right, these waters rise up naturally through cracks in the ground to surface as springs. In fact, the source of the Ōtākaro/Avon River and its tributary streams are artesian springs. In addition to fracturing many underground water pipes, the earthquakes also fractured the ground in many places, which allowed new artesian springs to rise to the surface. A well drilling frenzy to tap these artesian aquifers struck the city in the 1860s. By January 1872 a total of 654 artesian wells in the city had been sunk – both on private property and in the street by the council for public use (Weeber 2000: 11). By the late 1870s the water level in the uppermost aquifer, into which most of these earlier wells were sunk, was starting to decline (Lyttelton Times 17/10/1879:6). Once gushers, many of these artesian wells (often also called  ‘tube wells’) were fast becoming tricklers, necessitating the increased adoption of pumps, or the drilling of new wells to tap deeper and more reliable aquifers.

Old artesian wells are reasonably common finds on archaeological sites about the city and typically take the form of small diameter iron pipes sticking out the ground. The tops of these are often surrounded by larger diameter glazed earthenware pipes, which served as well casings or reservoir chambers to which hand pumps or taps would have sometimes been fitted. Often it’s hard to tell conclusively whether artesian wells of this form are 19th century or not. There is often very little difference in form between 19th and 20th century artesians, and, because water mains were only laid on incrementally throughout the city in the early 20th century, the sinking of artesian wells in people’s backyards continued in some places well into the 1950s. I will always remember the first artesian I found on a site. Disturbance from the digger brought forth a small trickle of tepid water (I remember it was a bloody freezing winters day and the artesian waters that came up out the ground were steaming). Left unchecked over the weekend, this artesian trickle transformed the excavation into a small lake, much to the delight of the local ducks.

A ‘dead’ artesian uncovered on a central city site. Image: Hamish Williams.

An old ‘live’ artesian well – left unchecked and unattended, this one flooded the excavation over the weekend. By the time this photo was taken, half the water has been pumped out. Can you spot the high tide mark? Image: Hamish Williams.

Not long ago we found a brick well on a site that had an artesian pipe sticking out the middle of it, and close by, another artesian pipe sticking out of an adjacent rubbish pit. We interpreted these two artesian pipes as possible evidence of the 19th century decline of the uppermost aquifer that most of the early artesians tapped. The brick well was early – maybe 1860s (we could tell this from the bricks) so we are pretty confident that the brick well came first. Whether because the water in this well dried up or the water got fouled, it at some stage thereafter was filled in, before an artesian well was sunk down through the middle of it. Later on we suspect that the water from the artesian started to decline, so a second artesian was sunk next to it, probably to a deeper level in order to tap a more reliable aquifer. What do you think about our interpretation?

At left, rubbish pit, and at right, brick lined well. Image: Hamish Williams.

The rubbish pit and well after being sectioned, exposing the artesian pipes that had been sunk through both these features at a later date. Image: Hamish Williams.

I suppose that the story of how the people of early Christchurch got their water, and how this changed over time is a bit like life. In the beginning things are often easy, you don’t have to work too hard to get what you are looking for – you can find what sustains you just by scratching away at the surface a little. Sometimes however things inevitably change, (often as a result of external factors) so you have to adapt, give up on the old way of doing things and adopt new methods. Start afresh by digging a bit deeper – it can be hard going at first, but the rewards are worth it. When things change again, you just got to dig a little deeper once more, but second time around its always a little easier. Because, like a Zen master, we have learnt from previous experience that by going deeper within, while at the same time being grateful for what nature provides, you can always find a way.

Hamish Williams

 

References

Lyttelton Times [online]. Available at <http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/>

Weeber, J. 2000. Watering Christchurch: The story of well drilling and water suppy in Christchurch. Christchurch NZ: Environment Canterbury.

Bits and bobs

This week, a few of the fabulous things we’ve been finding recently.

A French clay pipe, moulded to show a Native American figure crouching at the front of the bowl, with tobacco leaves decorating the bowl to either side of him. We don’t yet know who the figure is, but the pipe is likely to have been made by one of the larger French houses, such as Fiolet or Gambier. Image: J. Garland.

Edward’s “Harlene” hair tonic. This was made by Reuben Goldstein Edwards in London from c. the 1880s onwards (or so he claimed in 1903, when he registered Harlene as a trademark). It was advertised in New Zealand newspapers in the late 19th century as “the best hairdressing for strenghthening, beautifying and preserving the hair”. Image: M. Lillo Bernabeu.

What we think is an imitation Mason’s Imari jug, in the style of those made by G. M. and C. J. Mason in their Fenton factory in the 1820s. The design is heavily influenced by Japanese motifs and the handle is in the shape of a dragon, with the feet forming the base and the face roaring at you over the rim. Unlike the known Mason’s jugs, this particular example has only an impressed mark reading “IRONSTONE CHINA” on the base, rather than “MASON IRONSTONE CHINA”. Image: J. Garland.

The stem from another clay smoking pipe, decorated with a sleeping (maybe) lion. Image: J. Garland.

Charles Hockin was a London chemist who also made photographic products and inks later in his career. It’s unclear exactly when his business was established, but he seems to have been operating from at least the 1840s onwards. He made a range of products, but seems to have been known for his Seidlitz Powder, a “gentle medicine” that appears to have also been a kind of salt, marketed as a remedy for stomach ailments. Image: J. Garland.

The bowl and socket of a two piece pipe, moulded to look like eagle talons holding an egg. Image: M. Lillo Bernabeu.

A trade token. Not as unusual as they once were in Christchurch archaeology (we’ve got a few now), but this particular one is from Melbourne, which is a bit unusual. This one reads HIDE & DECARLE / ELIZABETH STREET / MELBOURNE / GROCERS AND WINE MERCHANTS and dates to 1858. Image: J. Garland.

This is a bit fancy. Also a bit gaudy. Known as a lustre vase, they seem to have been a popular Victorian object (for the more wealthy in society), designed for the table or the mantle in the home. While our one doesn’t quite have all it’s pieces, it does a fragment of drilled glass with a copper chain still attached – this would have held the long dangling chain of glass prisms. This is a pretty fantastic find for us – we don’t usually find fancy goods in rubbish pits (you don’t normally throw those out if you can help it), so, despite it’s gaudiness, we think it’s kind of awesome. Image: J. Garland, and Ebay.

A pipe bowl decorated with a goat. Because, why not. Image: J. Garland.

Look at her, in her cute little nightcap. She is judging you. She is definitely judging you. Image: M. Lillo Bernabeu.

A very dramatic Ruins patterned plate with a Copeland/Late Spode mark. Image: M. Lillo Bernabeu.

This is possibly my favourite artefact from the last few months. It’s an appointment card for a W. C. T. U. meeting in New Brighton, found in the ceiling of a house occupied by the regional and national president of the organisation in the early 20th century. For those of you who don’t know, the W. C. T. U. refers to the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, an organisation that played a significant role in the women’s suffrage/political movement of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Among the members, and leaders, of the Christchurch branch was the one and only Kate Sheppard. Image: M. Lillo Bernabeu.

Classic! A look at transfer patterns inspired by the ancient world

Ceramic artefacts are some of the most common finds recovered from 19th century Christchurch archaeological sites. Teacups, saucers, plates, dishes, bottles, jars, jugs, chamber pots, wash basins…heaps of objects related to food and drink preparation, consumption and storage as well as hygiene or personal grooming habits. However, today, we’re not talking about forms and functions. We’ll go further…travelling through transfer printed decorations inspired by Neoclassical and Romantic designs.

Once upon a time, until the invention of transfer printing, the coloured decorations on ceramics were applied by hand. The technique of transfer printing, which originated in England in the mid-18th century, allowed potters, for the first time, to mass-produce identical detailed images on ceramic vessels. Blue and white designs dominated the wide world of transferwares, although black, brown, green, grey, purple and red colours were also used in the second half of the 19th century as we’ll see.

A perfect explanation of the invention of transfer printing. Press 10/07/1935

Potteries offered a variety of patterns that reflected social and decorative trends of the time. It was well-known by everybody that the finest ceramic was imported from China. It is not a surprise, then, that Chinese designs were copied or adapted and used as inspiration. In fact, patterns like Asiatic Pheasants and Willow became very popular and they are found on Christchurch sites quite often.

Asiatic Pheasants (left) and Willow (right) plates. These designs are still in use on modern ceramics, confirming their success among consumers. Image: J. Garland and M. Lillo Bernabeu.

However, the search for more interesting and original decorations began quickly. European scenes based on neoclassical and romantic themes became inspiration for decorative designs in the mid-19th century and were sold as an exotic counterpoint to the similarly popular scenes of British landscape and architecture.

By the late 18th and early 19th centuries neoclassicism had infiltrated the arts and historical tradition. Ancient Greece and Rome were the inspiration. Transfer prints and stylistic trends were influenced by archaeological discoveries at ancient cities such as Pompeii, Herculaneum or Athens. Designs were dominated by horizontal and vertical lines and symmetrical proportions reflected the virtues of  antiquity, like harmony, clarity and universality. Ceramic patterns displayed temples, columns, urns, sculptures, draped figures, acanthus leaves and Greek or Roman ruins in an effort to emulate these glorious past civilizations. Neoclassical patterns are relatively common finds on archaeological sites in Christchurch, some more frequently than others.

To be honest, it was difficult to choose just a few patterns to show you today. But, finally, here we are with a selection of some of my favourite neoclassical inspired patterns uncovered on Christchurch sites!

ANTIQUE (left) and ITALIAN (right). Both patterns featured a bunch of antique vases in a central scene. The Greek vases sold to the British Museum by Sir William Hamilton attracted considerable attention over the years and were probably the inspiration for these decorations. Image: J. Garland.

ETRUSCAN was a popular name used for transferware designs showing classical vases and ewers. We know if was popular as several variations have been found in Christchurch, all of which featured a border with the repeating Greek key motif and/or an arrangement of vases in the centre of the scene. Image: J. Garland.

From the late 18th to the mid-19th centuries romanticism arose in Europe as a reaction to modernity, increasing industrialisation and rationality in general, and as a rejection of the neoclassical virtues of order, calm and harmony in particular. This artistic, cultural and intellectual movement played on the emotions, individualism and the glorification of the past and nature. Given the interest in nature, these designs often contained landscape scenes. Romantic imagery is easily identifiable on transferwares because it always follows this formula: water source as a central feature (river, lake), stylised buildings in the distance and small human figures and/or animals to provide sense of scale. Nature is also present through trees, mountains and valleys.

A wide variety of romantic patterns are commonly found on Christchurch sites, but again (sorry for my obsession today!), I chose those inspired by classical themes, which completed the romantic formula that we know with classical buildings, fountains, urns or pillared balconies. Some of these patterns, as you’ll see, were named after historical places or influential figures in the past. Designs were sometimes associated with the name or place, but were sometimes not…

MOREA was the then name of the Peloponnesus, a peninsula in Southern Greece, so-named because it is said to look like a mulberry leaf in shape. The pattern depicted classical ruins with columns close to a river. The scene is framed by flowers and trees. A distant building with towers are visible on the distance. Two people on a path were also represented, one of them walking and the other one riding a horse. Image: J. Garland.

MYCENAE was the center of Mycenaean civilization, the culture which dominated Greece, Aegean islands and the coast of Asia Minor during the late Bronze Age in the II millennium BC and one of the most important archaeological sites of Greece. This example of Mycenae pattern featured an urn with two handles in the centre of the scene decorated with a variety of sculptures and musicians in separated vignettes along with floral and geometric designs. Water, buildings and mountains completed the landscape surrounded by trees. J. Garland.

RAVENNA is an Italian city, which was the capital of the Western Roman Empire in the 5th century. The pattern combined a classical garden with a woman’s statue on a pedestal, a balustrade, a vase, a river and again, distant classical buildings and mountains among a cloudy sky. Image: J. Garland and M. Lillo Bernabeu.

As I mentioned, pattern names occasionally don’t match with the subject portrayed and for me, Sappho is a perfect example. I chose it because of who it refers to…

SAPPHO is a geometric pattern consisting of repeating elements on the border and a medallion in the centre of the vessel. On top right, among the earthenwares offered to consumers, Sappho dinner services were listed as an available pattern in 1863 (Press 5/08/1863: 2). On bottom right, there is a picture of Sappho, who inspired this ceramic decoration. She was a Greek lyric poet from the island of Lesbos, particularly famous for her love poems. Image: J. Garland and Wikimedia Commons.

Given the topic for the blog today and taking advantage of that, I would like to show you other Romantic patterns based on real or imaginary European themes, referring to Spain and its medieval past. Yes! Here in Christchurch we have found these beautiful vessels…

ANDALUSIA is a region in the South of Spain. This Andalusia patterned plate features Spanish friars or monks, praying in front of a monument. The border has vignettes with alternating sprays, floral and foliage elements. Image: J. Garland.

Sometimes, we find ourselves unable to trace the name of a specific design, although many of the elements may be known and/or resemble other ceramics decorations. For example, although it was impossible to figure out the name of this ceramic pattern, I can’t resist the temptation to suggest an idea…

The pretty chamber pot on top uncovered on Tuam Street features an architecture quite familiar to me. It reminds me of the Alhambra in Granada. And I promise you that it is not a crazy idea! Look the image on right! The name Alhambra means “the red fortress”. Alhambra is one of the most emblematic examples of Islamic architecture in Spain, later completed as a fortress and palace. The place in which the fortress is located has plenty of running water, fountains, cascades and gardens. It was the last bastion of the Moors, who were forced to leave Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492. Image: J. Garland and The Telegraph.

While Romantic transfer prints based on classical inspirations are relatively popular on 19th century Christchurch sites, those inspired by the Middle Age in Spain are uncommon finds so far. It is likely that Spain was more exotic and unusual for the New Zealand consumers, rather than Greek and Rome revivals.

The presence of these fashionable items within the home, displaying exotic scenes of faraway places, conveyed messages and knowledge of culture and history. Certainly, potters made wares decorated with certain patterns to supply the consumer’s demand. But beyond that, ceramics were a vehicle by which the myths and ideas from these places could travel across the world wherever the vessels were sold. These neoclassic and romantic transfer prints could make people believe that they were intrepid explorers travelling to ancient Europe, through their vessels. The scenes on their plates would become their image of Greece or Rome and Spain, whether or not it was realistic. The symbolic power of transfer prints was also important in the formation of new identities and the emergence of new national ideologies throughout the 19th century, as we discussed in a recent post talking about commemorative designs.

Neoclassical and romantic decorative styles, which inspired both my post today and ceramic makers during the 19th century, had decreased in popularity by the late Victorian era, while the standard Willow and Asiatic Pheasants remained in production for some time. After the decline of neoclassical and romantic designs, patterns with repeating and floral borders became more popular. However, that’s a story for another day!

By Maria Lillo Bernabeu

References

Brooks, A., 2005. An Archaeological Guide to British Ceramics in Australia 1788-1901. The Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology & La Trobe University, Australia.

Coysh, A. W. and Henrywood, R. K., 1982. The Dictionary of Blue and White Printed Pottery 17801880, Volume I. Antique Collectors’ Club, Suffolk.

Encyclopedia Britannica, 2017. [online] Available at: https://www.britannica.com/ [Accessed 23 June 2017]

Lucas, G., 2003. Literature and Transfer-Printed Pottery in the Early Nineteenth Century. International Journal of Historical Archaeology, 7 (2): 127-143.

Samford, Patricia M., 1997. Response to a market: Dating English underglaze transfer‐printed wares. Historical Archaeology 31 (2): 1‐30.

Transferware Collector’s Club, 2005-2017. [online] Available at:  http://www.transcollectorsclub.org/ [Accessed 23 June 2017].

 

 

So long and thanks for all the fish

Today’s my last day at Underground Overground Archaeology, the company I founded in 2006. This isn’t something I ever thought would happen, but then, when I look back on how my archaeological career has played out so far, there’s not much in it that I’d planned… I went to Otago to study archaeology, but didn’t really know what I wanted to do beyond be an archaeologist. Part way through my degree I developed a fascination for the Middle East and the origins of agriculture, but that disappeared after I went on my first excavation in New Zealand (possibly helped along by the discovery that I needed to have a certain level of competency in an ancient language to study the origins of agriculture). I ended up as a consultant because there wasn’t anyone else doing that in Christchurch when I finished my Masters degree (and that’s where I happened to be at the time). And then there were the earthquakes. And more archaeology than I could ever have imagined, including some incredible sites, loads and loads of data, discovering buildings archaeology, a huge collection of artefacts and the most amazing possibilities for research. Which has brought me to my last day here.

A (very small!) selection of the fantastic archaeological sites investigated since the earthquakes. Image: Underground Overground Archaeology.

It’s a day I’m facing with a mixture of excitement, trepidation and sadness. Excitement because of what I’m going to do next (more on that below) and, let’s face it, because I’m going to get more sleep (yay!) and not be engrossed in the minutiae (and stress) of running a business, when I’d rather be doing research. Trepidation because I have no idea how this is going to play out. And sadness because I’m leaving behind something I created and because I’m leaving behind my wonderful team. But, I’m happy that Underground Overground Archaeology is going to continue on without me and I’m confident I’m leaving it in good hands.

I’m going to miss my team – they’re what’s made Underground Overground Archaeology so great and they’ve been such a pleasure to work with. They’ve made me laugh every day, they’ve taught me so much, they’ve worked so hard and they’ve done some incredible archaeology – and written some awesome blog posts! They’re awesome people. Without them, Underground Overground Archaeology would never have succeeded or become what it is today.

Just a few of the faces that have passed through Underground Overground over the last few years. Image: Underground Overground Archaeology.

My team (past and present) are not the only awesome people I’ve met and worked with over the years – there have been some fantastic clients, too. And then there’s you, the readers of this blog. What an amazing thing this has been. I can still remember pushing ‘play’ on that first blog post four – four! – years ago and just how nervous I was about it. I had no idea it would turn out be so successful, so rewarding or so fun. I’ve loved being able to share our archaeological discoveries with you, and to be able to show just how awesome Ōtautahi/Christchurch’s history and archaeology is. And I’ve loved that we’ve had a range of contributors over the years and the variety they’ve brought to it, and the responses the different posts have elicited from readers.

The other thing I wanted to say is what a privilege it’s been to do archaeology in Christchurch for so long, and to learn so much about the city, its development, its stories and the people who built this place. It’s a rich and varied history, made all the more so by the archaeological work in the city and the stories uncovered and documented during this – and then shared here. And the stories we’ve shared are only a fraction of what we’ve found so far. You should see the list of potential blog posts… And no doubt you’ll see some of those stories in the future. I’m looking forward to reading them.

So, those new ventures. All things going well, I’ll be embarking on my PhD, looking at the development of Christchurch’s domestic architecture in the 19th century, particularly in relation to identity, capitalism, colonialism and all those good things. But as well as that, because I’m yet to learn the lesson of not taking too much on (which you’d think the last five or six years would have taught me), I’m going to be trying to find a permanent home for the artefacts recovered as a result of the earthquake archaeology and building a system to hold all the data we’ve recovered and make it widely available. Because what we have here is too important not to save and preserve for the future and because Ōtautahi/Christchurch is incredibly lucky to have this rich resource of data and fascinating stories about its past and the people who made this place and what it is today. Soon you’ll be able to follow the journey at christchurcharchaeology.org (under development).

A glimpse into the material culture record of Ōtautahi/Christchurch. Image: J. Garland.

It’s been an incredible journey so far, this archaeology lark, and I’m really looking forward to continuing it in other ways and other forums. When I decided (aged 13) that this is what I wanted to do, I could never have imagined where it would take me or how it would play out. But I wouldn’t change a thing (although I’d love to have made a few less mistakes along the way…). I want to finish with a huge thank you to all those who’ve supported me along the way – my wonderful husband, family, friends, people I’ve employed, clients and readers. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Katharine Watson

The sad story of the secret staircase

The thing about being a buildings archaeologist is that even though some houses might look the same, the story of their occupants and occupation is always different. These stories of occupation are not always revealed in the archaeology of the buildings themselves, and are usually unearthed by our team of historians. When recording a house in the central city, we were confronted with a building that was most intriguing from a buildings archaeology perspective and had a sad story to match.

A house with a sad secret. Image: P. Mitchell.

What made the house different was a ‘secret staircase’ located in the kitchen wall. From a buildings archaeology point of view this staircase didn’t appear to be an original feature, as its installation meant that one of the rooms in the house was unusable. Nor did it appear to have been used for some time, as the floorboards had been replaced where the stairs had once exited on the second floor, and the wall in the second-floor room where a doorway associated with the stairs had been located had been relined in the late 19th century. So why was it there?

A cupboard in the wall? Image: P. Mitchell.

Perhaps. Image: P. Mitchell.

Or perhaps not. Image: P. Mitchell.

There be stairs. Image: P. Mitchell.

The floor of the nursery looks a bit suspicious. Image: P. Mitchell.

Archaeological investigation. Image: P. Mitchell.

More questions than answers. Image: P. Mitchell.

The difference in wall lining is a clue. Image: P. Mitchell.

The other side of the wall. The upright timber is a clue. Image: P. Mitchell.

This notch in the upright timber indicates that it was part of a door frame. Image: P. Mitchell.

With various holes cut in the wall the picture becomes clearer. The red dotted line outlines the doorway. Image: P. Mitchell.

Historian Chelsea Dickson was tasked with uncovering the story of the construction and occupation of the house. What she discovered, and how it meshed with the buildings archaeology, is related below in the ‘Sad Story of the Secret Staircase.’

When Henry Wilkinson, a cobbler and shoe merchant, purchased the relevant land parcel from Cyrus Davie in 1872 he was looking to build a home for himself and his family. His wife Anna Maria, two daughters Laura (the eldest) and Louisa, and his son James Walter were no doubt looking forward to the prospect of living in a brand new home close (but not too close) to town, with the river nearby and Linwood East School just a short walk up Barbadoes Street.

Building started soon after the section was purchased, and the house was complete and the family had moved in by December 1872. Unfortunately, the reason we know that Henry and his family were in occupation of the house at the time is because of the funeral notice for the middle child, Louisa, who passed away in the house aged 7½ (Press 2/12/1872). This tragedy was followed 18 days later when the youngest child, James Walter, passed away aged 4 years (Press 20/12/1872).

By September 1873 Anna Maria had also passed away, aged 37, leaving only Henry and Laura at the house.

In 1874 Henry advertised the four front rooms of the dwelling to let as “the front apartments, four rooms, for a respectable family, of three to four adults, next to Mrs Cyrus Davie’s” (Lyttelton Times 9/4/1874: 4). In order for the tenants to access the kitchen, which was located in the rear of the building, Henry had a staircase built into the wall between the kitchen and the parlour, which provided access from the front upstairs bedroom to the kitchen.

This is the ‘secret staircase’.

Presumably the secret staircase went out of use when Henry ceased letting out the front four rooms of his house, probably in 1875 when he married Annie Martha Griffiths, and hopefully lived happily ever after.

Peter Mitchell

References

LINZ, 1850. Canterbury Land District Deeds index – A – Town sections and town reserves register.

LINZ, 1860. Canterbury Land District Deeds index – A/S 1 – Subdivisions of town reserves register. Archives New Zealand, Christchurch office.

Lyttelton Times. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz [Accessed May 2017].

Press. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz [Accessed May 2017].