A message in a bottle

Posted on 29 November 2013 by Katharine

Look! Kirsa found a message in a bottle under a house. Here’s how we got the message out.

Following advice from our consultant conservator, Jessie spent half an hour carefully easing out the cork (all the while worrying the cork would snap off!). Photo: K. Bone.

Easy does it: slowly pulling out the cork. Photo: K. Bone.

Next step: getting the message out. Kirsa is carefully holding the bottle while Jessie uses the tweezers. Photo: K. Bone.

Next step: getting the message out. Kirsa is carefully holding the bottle while Jessie uses the tweezers. Photo: L. Tremlett.

Tantalisingly close! Photo: L. Tremlett.

Special equipment: Jessie & Kirsa couldn’t get the message out, so Sasha (our conservator) made some special tweezers. Here’s how Sasha described her tweezers: “They’re made of coat hanger wire with tips doubled over and beaten flat, covered in shrink tubing for smooth grippy surface. The photo Jessie sent me of the message half tweezed out of the bottle was the first attempt using shorter, gentler tweezers, producing a cone shape which would have wedged in the neck. To pull it out safely maintaining the diameter at less than the bottle neck, I needed to grab the paper at the lower inner corner and coil inwards. It was tricky spreading the grippy tweezers either side of the paper while lowering into the bottle, which was why I gave the shorter tweezers a try first before committing and steeling myself for the job at hand.” Photo: S. Stollman.

Sasha makes a start on extracting the message. Photo: J. Garland.

Nearly there! Photo: J. Garland.

Carefully cleaning the message. Photo: K. Bone.

What do you think it says? Photo: J. Garland.

Katharine Watson

The Victorian Christchurch Child

Posted on 10 October 2013 by Katharine

Childhood. We all had one. Whether we remember it vaguely or with clarity, we all passed through this phase of life. As infants we shook that baby rattle with all our might or nursed that pacifier until our eyes closed and we dreamed of a faraway land. As we got older the toys became larger and more creative: teddy bears with a squeak in the stomach or crayons that ended up strewn across the house or even on the walls. We all remember the Barbie dolls and the G.I. Joes, or the Barbie dolls with crew cuts to make them look like G.I. Joes. Or even that first day of school where you were accompanied by your very own yellow Bananas in Pyjamas lunch box. This period of one’s life, although so fundamental in how we mature as adults, is often forgotten. This is also true of the Victorian Christchurch child.

As a result of the February 2011 earthquake and the subsequent rebuild, a number of artefacts related to the years of childhood have been excavated. This collection of artefacts provide us not only a rare glimpse into the lives of the Victorian Christchurch child but is now allowing us to establish how different artefacts relate to different stages of a child’s life.

A selection of children’s artefacts. Image G. Jackson.

Archaeological investigations regarding children in their first few years of life have often been restricted to analysis of infant mortality or mortuary practices and rarely touch on their lived experiences (and even historical documents are not much more helpful: simply looking up ‘Christchurch Child’ on Papers Past was a challenge, for almost all searches came up with child mortality stories). The sites that have been excavated across Christchurch provide an opportunity to catalogue this brief but important time in one’s life.

Infant-related artefacts are largely related to a baby’s health. These include health-benefiting bone marrow, baby powders and medicinal disinfectants designed to prevent against illness. The largest number of artefacts relating to the infant years, however, are glass feeder bottles and ceramic feeder lids.

S. Maw, Son and Thompson baby feeder. Image: L. Davies.

S. Maw, Son and Thompson baby feeder. Image: L. Davies.

One such item was even named the ‘murder‘ feeder, due to the difficulty of cleaning the lid. Such hygiene-related difficulties meant that baby easily fell ill, but this problem may have been counteracted by disinfectants, medicines or simple homemade remedies (some of which have a recommended child’s dosage).

Left: Mather’s ceramic baby feeder (Image: L. Davies). Right: Advertisement emphasising the need to clean the baby’s bottle (Otago Witness 15/02/1879).

The development and emergence of the Victorian Christchurch citizen, as with any society, was shaped by what was taught to children. A common theme that has emerged from the material culture of Christchurch are the children’s cups and plates bearing educational-themed images, which can increase imagination and creativity but also conveyed moral messages.

Jack and Jill nursery rhyme on a cup. Image: L. Davies.

Nursery rhymes, playful one-liners and intense moral teachings have all been found on china in our Christchurch assemblages. Nursery rhymes or a simple play on words to create a small story are used as a subtle tool to stimulate the imagination and intellectual growth. Children learn language through the repetition of syllables and words, often repeating what a parent said (Bishop and Curtis 2001: 5). And with moral messages buried in the phrases, children also learnt socially acceptable behaviour. In a fun way, that is.

One plate found is an ‘ABC’ plate, named for the alphabet written around the outer edge of the plate. These ABC plates were a product of the teachings of Dr. Benjamin Franklin. Yes, that Benjamin Franklin. During the 19th century, a series of plates were sold bearing philosophical teachings from his Poor Richard’s Almanack. Our particular plate bears the phrase “Fly pleasures, and they’ll follow you. The diligent spinner has a large shift, now I have a sheep and cow, everybody bids me good morrow”. It means those who work hard are rewarded in comfort, plenty and respect i.e. that leisure comes to those who work hard.

Fragment of a Dr. Benjamin Franklin ABC plate. Image: L. Davies.

This phase of nursery rhymes and moral themes was a precursor to schooling days. Prior to the Education Act of 1877 education or schooling for children was not compulsory. In 1877 the Education Act made it compulsory and free for children aged between 5 and 13 to attend school (Walrond 2012).

This did not extend to secondary education and it was not until 1901 that the secondary education was addressed. A law passed at this time stated that only children who passed a competency exam would be allowed entry into secondary school. It is suggested that even those children who may have passed the competency exams would have still left school at this age to work, and why would they go to school when they were another pair of hands to help put food on the table (Walrond 2012)? The artefacts associated with this period of a child’s life are slate pencils and boards. Some boards have ruled lines on one side for writing and grid lines on the reverse side for mathematics.

Slate pencils. Image: L. Davies

A grid (left) and lined (right) slate board. Image: L. Davies

A large quantity of toys have been found throughout sites across Christchurch and are indicative of the subtle ways in which social mores were constructed.

‘Frozen Charlotte’ doll. Image J. Garland.

Girls were presented with dolls and tea sets, confirming their domestic role in the Victorian world, whereas boys played with tin soldiers and marbles, items associated with competition and manliness. It is during this period, when toys are introduced, that we begin to see gender differentiation in the archaeology of childhood. Girls are the most visible at this time with few artefacts that can be unequivocally associated with boys. This is in contrast to adulthood, when men are generally more visible in the archaeological record than women,as so many of our blog posts indicate.

Toy horse. Image K. Bone.

Toy tea set. Image. G. Jackson.

Clay and glass marble. Clay marbles were also called ‘commies’ as they were a cheap version of marbles and were very common. Image: K. Bone.

The number of artefacts relating to children found during demolitions and the rebuild of Christchurch has allowed a chronological understanding of the emergence of the Victorian Christchurch child. The infant stage is predominantly represented by feeding bottles, health-benefiting foods and disinfectants. This suggests that in the first few years of life there is no differentiation of gender but an emphasis on raising a healthy child. The following stage, prior to schooling, is also not gendered and includes developing the imagination with rhymes and moral themes. This non-gendered childhood changes with the school years, with girls in particular taking a visible role. The presence of tea sets and dolls emphasise their role in society and society’s expectations of their later life, with themes of domesticity and civility. The recent excavations have significantly developed our understanding of the Victorian Christchurch child and the ongoing investigations will continue to contribute to our understanding of this period, these children and their lived experiences, so watch this space…

Kim Bone

References

Bishop, J. C. and Curtis, M., 2001. Introduction. In: J. C. Bishop and M. Curtis, eds. 2001. Play Today in the Primary School Playground: Life, Learn and Creativity. Open University Press, Buckingham, pp. 1-19.

Otago Witness. [online] Available at: http://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Walrond, C., 2012. Teenagers and youth – defining teenagers as a group.[online] Available at: http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/teenagers-and-youth/page-1 [Accessed 10 October 2013].

A lot of old rubbish!

Posted on 21 September 2013 by Katharine

…this yard being kept in a disreputable state, there are no cinder pits in proper places to throw the refuse of cooking and things in general, as at home, so old bones, vegetable remains, scrapings of plates, cinders, tea leaves, every conceivable thing is flung anywhere over these yards…

From Taken In by “Hopeful”, 1887.

Imagine that you live in 1860s Christchurch. Although it’s officially a city, there’s not much here that’s like the cities of Europe. The roads aren’t paved – in fact, most of them have hardly been formed. Your house is wooden, rather than being stone or brick. There’s no running water, and nothing to speak of in the way of drains between your house and the street. There are rubbish collection services, but only within the four avenues and you have to pay for them yourself. Fortunately, though, there’s a lot more space than back home. So, instead of paying the night-soil man or the town scavenger(s), you can just bury your rubbish in your backyard, throw it under your house (or even out the back door, if you don’t care too much about the smells and ‘nuisances’) or toss it into the Avon River.

This post is a bit different from others we’ve written to date. It’s the first in an occasional series that looks at the process of archaeology, and the factors that we consider before we interpret a site, or a particular artefact. In this case, it’s rubbish, because that’s largely what we find. When we find rubbish, we have to think about what was deposited, where and how was it deposited and why. When it was deposited is pretty important too, but we’ll look at that in another post. This post only provides the briefest of overviews over rubbish disposal practices, but it’ll give you an idea of how we think about these things.

The motion passed by the Christchurch City Council, outlining how the council would charge for rubbish collection (Press 25/11/1863: ).

From 1863, the disposal of waste within the area bounded by Bealey Avenue, Fitzgerald Avenue, Hagley Park and Moorhouse Avenue was regulated by the Christchurch City Council (the council was formed in 1862). The council set aside a rubbish dump very early on in the piece (Press 5/4/1862: 3), but it was not until January 1864 that the council contracted the Hadfield brothers to collect “refuse, slops, etc”, and instructed the Inspector of Nuisances “to cause the dry rubbish and ashes in every house or yard to be placed in bins provided for that purpose, the same to be conveniently accessible to the contractor at stated periods for removal, and to see that this authority be exercised within the cess-pan district…” (Lyttelton Times 28/1/1864: 5). It had been decided late the previous year that the council would recover the cost of this service directly from ratepayers, although subsequent council reports suggest that this was sometimes difficult (Press 25/11/1863: 3).

An official report on rubbish collection (Press 12/1/1865: 4).

While an official report in early 1865 suggested that this system was working well (Press 12/1/1865: 4), there were also reports of rubbish not being collected or people failing to pay for the service and people sweeping rubbish into gutters (Press 22/3/1865: 2, Lyttelton Times 28/3/1865: 3). A year later it was noted that “The Committee thought it desirable to make inquiries as to the removal of ashes and other dry rubbish, but they do not find that any systematic plan has been adopted in the manner or time of removal, nor as to the description of removal.” (Press 21/3/1866: 2). Whether or not any changes followed this report is not known but it is clear that there was a system of removal of rubbish in place in 1867 (Press 24/12/1867: 2). After 1870, there’s not much information about rubbish collection in the council reports in the newspapers, although in 1871 it became illegal to throw rubbish into “any public sewer or drain”, suggesting that this was a problem (Press 1/4/1871: 4).

Problems with rubbish collection (Press 22/3/1865: 2).

Rubbish collection, 1867 (Press 24/12/1867: 2).

Charging for rubbish collection continued until at least the late 1870s (Press 11/4/1878: 2). By 1886 the fee for this service seems to have been taken from rates (it wasn’t possible to work out exactly when this change took place; Star 9/3/1886: 4).

Even though rubbish in Christchurch could be collected from your property by at least 1864 (and it appears to have been a legal requirement that rubbish was removed from your property), archaeology tells us that families and businesses continued to dispose of their rubbish themselves throughout the 19^th century (as a number of the posts on this blog illustrate).

A purpose-dug rubbish pit. Photo: L. Tremlett.

So how did people do this? Mostly, they buried their rubbish it in purpose-dug pits, which were sometimes lined with tins – this may have been to prevent noxious material leaching into the city’s water. Because there are no soil or sand layers in these pits, we know that people weren’t throwing dirt or sand into the pit (which would have helped stop those noxious odours). The pits may have been covered is some way, which would also have reduced the odours – and the rodents – and stopped loose sand or soil blowing into the pit. No physical evidence of such a cover has been found to date. Elsewhere in New Zealand, people threw their rubbish into abandoned privies or wells, but we’ve not found any examples of this in Christchurch so far.

An under-floor accumulation. Photo: K. Webb.

Some people were evidently too lazy to dig a pit and simply threw the rubbish under their house (archaeologists call this an ‘under-floor accumulation’ (Butcher and Smith 2010)), while others took advantage of neighbouring sections that weren’t occupied and buried their rubbish there – nasty! The rubbish we’ve found at the Theatre Royal may be the result of this sort of activity. And apparently sometimes people just threw their rubbish out their back door or in a pile in the backyard (a surface accumulation or surface layer). That’s what the quote at the start of this post is referring – it’s from a book written by a young woman who was rather disillusioned by 1880s Christchurch (Hopeful 1974).

The Papanui Bone Mill produced ‘bonedust’ (a fertiliser) from bones (Press 20/11/1890: 8).

Like us today, the residents of Victorian Christchurch threw out items that were beyond repair or had fallen out of fashion. But fashions changed a lot less quickly then than they do today and there was a whole lot less packaging than there is now. And people rarely threw out objects of monetary value, such as jewellery or watches. There was also reuse, particularly of bottles, and bones leftover from meals were often collected and turned into ‘bonedust’ (a form of fertiliser). People tended not to throw out complete or unbroken objects – it’s rare that we find something that’s not broken, and in many cases we only find one fragment from a given plate or bottle. When we do find complete or nearly complete artefacts, we start to think a bit harder about why someone might have thrown something like that out, and that’s when the out-of-fashion argument can come into play.

A nearly complete plate that someone threw out. Photo: J. Garland.

A nearly complete plate that someone threw out, possibly because it was no longer in fashion. Photo: J. Garland.

These are just some of the things we have to take into account before we interpret an artefact or assemblage, and before we can get to the heart of what archaeology’s about: people.

Katharine Watson

References

Butcher, M. and Smith, I., 2010. Talking trash: classifying rubbish-bearing deposits from colonial New Zealand sites. Journal of Pacific Archaeology 1(1): 53-61.

Hopeful (pseudonym), 1974 [1887]. Taken In: Being a sketch of New Zealand life. Capper Press, Christchurch.

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

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

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

Black deeds in Draper Street

Posted on 30 August 2013 by Katharine

Today, through the wonders of archaeology and Papers Past, we bring you the story of Charles Henry Cox, a man whose crime has been buried – literally – for over 100 years. But let’s not get too carried away. As crimes go, it wasn’t such a serious one. And probably largely victimless, as it doesn’t seem to have been terribly successful.

Before we found Cox’s little rubbish pit, we didn’t have a sense of who he was or what he was like. He wasn’t like some of the other men we’ve featured here, who were frequently written about in the paper and were probably quite well known about town. But he was someone who – like so many of us – wanted to get ahead, financially and/or socially. This was in the mid-1880s, so he may have lost his job in the depression that was affecting so much of the country at the time, and it may have been this that forced him to turn to crime. Or maybe he just thought he’d hit upon a cunning get-rich-quick scheme.

Cox wasn’t that badly off in the first place, though. He had sufficient money to buy himself and his family a block of land (where we found the incriminating evidence) in Richmond in 1885 and he took out a mortgage against it that same year, possibly to build a house on the land (LINZ 1885).

Now, here’s where it gets a bit confusing, so pay close attention.

The section Charles bought in 1885 was on a street known by a variety of names until the 1940s, when it became Harvey Terrace. It was known as Salisbury Street and Windsor Terrace and possibly – just possibly – as Draper Street (CCL 2013: 39; LINZ 1885). The possibility that it was known as Draper Street is important, because newspaper advertisements tell us that Cox lived on Draper Street (e.g. Star 29/1/1886: 2, Star 23/1/1896: 3). Even if Cox didn’t live on the section he bought in 1885, Draper Street was literally just around the corner and the archaeology tells us that he was definitely using the section on what is now Harvey Terrace. He owned this section until at least 1911 and newspapers place him and his wife – who was constantly advertising for servants (e.g. Star 29/1/1886: 2, Star 23/1/1896: 3) – on Draper Street from 1885 until at least 1900.

Mrs Cox advertising for a servant, 1900 (Star 5/3/1900: 3).

So what did we find? Well, at first glance it was an odd but seemingly innocuous rubbish pit that contained a large number of shoe polish bottles. A minimum number of 110 artefacts were found in the pit, over half of which were shoe polish bottles. There were two types of these bottles: the standard stoneware blacking bottles and glass bottles embossed with “HAUTHAWAY’S PEERLESS GLOSS”. This was a shoe polish made by Charles Hauthaway in Bridgewater, Massachusetts, from 1852 (Hauthaway Corporation n.d.). It was advertised for sale in New Zealand from at least 1879 until at least 1894 and claimed to be “a necessity in every family” (New Zealand Herald 19/6/1879: 4, Ellesmere Guardian 22/8/1896: 1).

Two stoneware blacking bottles. Image: K. Bone.

Two Hauthaway’s Peerless Gloss bottles. Image: K. Bone.

At first we thought that maybe there’d been a shoe shop on the site – but there were no shoes in the rubbish pit. So then we thought, maybe it was just a general store of some sort? But the other artefacts from the feature didn’t suggest that. Then we found an advertisement for “Cox’s Pioneer Gloss”, which was being sold wholesale by the manufacturer from Draper Street from October 1886 to January 1887 (Press 30/10/1886: 1, Star 10/1/1887: 1). We didn’t find any evidence that Cox was selling anything else from Draper Street, such as other brands of shoe polish.

Advertisement for Cox’s Pioneer Gloss (Press 30/10/1886: 1).

The advertisement that Cox placed in the Star (Star 10/12/1886: 4).

The stash of blacking and shoe polish bottles found at the site suggests that Cox’s Pioneer Gloss was not a product that Cox had developed, but that Cox was on-selling Hauthaway’s product in a different container (such as the stoneware blacking bottles, which were not associated with any particular brand). It is also possible that Cox was blending the no-brand blacking and Hauthaway’s shoe polish to make something slightly different. Maybe Cox’s product contained other ingredients as well, but no evidence was found to suggest this. Searches to find the recipe for Cox’s patent were unsuccessful – it is quite likely that Cox never patented his product, but that this was simply an advertising ploy.

Cox’s illicit venture was not a long-lived one, which suggests that he lost money on the scheme, and certainly didn’t make the profits he’d no doubt hoped for. There’s no evidence in the historical record to suggest that he was found out. No doubt the bottles – and other artefacts – were buried early in 1887, in the hope that no would ever know. He didn’t count on archaeology though.

Katharine Watson

References

Christchurch City Libraries, 2013. Christchurch street names: H. [online] Available at: < http://christchurchcitylibraries.com/Heritage/PlaceNames/ChristchurchStreetNames-H.pdf>.

Ellesmere Guardian. [online]. Available at: www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz [Accessed April 2013].

Hauthaway Corporation, n.d. History. [online] Available at: < http://www.hauthaway.com/history.php> [Accessed 21/8/2013].

LINZ, 1885. CB79/259, Canterbury. Landonline.

New Zealand Herald. [online]. Available at: www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Otago Witness. [online]. Available at: www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Press. [online]. Available at: www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

Star. [online]. Available at: www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz.

‘It isn’t all beer and skittles’

Posted on 4 August 2013 by Katharine

– Thomas Hughes, Tom Brown’s School Days, 1857

It’s hard to picture what many of Christchurch’s buildings looked like before the earthquake. For many locals the torn down remains of a building or an empty lot remind them of a favourite hangout, a birthday or even the best burgers in town. The archaeology that has been excavated and collected from these sites and buildings provides evidence of earlier and equally personal stories and events, proving these buildings were full of life for over a century. One example of this is the Oxford Hotel, also known as the Oxford Family Hotel, the Oxford Victualling Co. and latterly as the Oxford on Avon.

The Oxford on Avon Hotel post-earthquake, 8 November 2011. Photo: M. Hennessey.

The Oxford Hotel was located on the corner of Oxford Terrace and Colombo Street and was one of the city’s older hotels. Originally established as a boarding house by Antill and Sarah Adley in 1860 or 1861, the hotel gained a licence to sell alcohol in 1862 and began operating as a pub as well as a boarding house. It was at this time that the establishment was renamed the Oxford Family Hotel (Greenaway 2007: 14). Adley had proprietorship of the hotel until his retirement in 1873 (The Cyclopedia of New Zealand 1903) and continued to own the land and lease it out until 1903 (Christchurch Deeds Index C1 c.1853: 616). The hotel lease was purchased by Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Dann in 1875, who transferred the lease to Mr. Bately, who rebuilt the building in 1883 (this was the building that stood until the earthquake; Star 5/6/1883: 3). What we found from the archaeological data and historical records is that this building not only acted as a hotel but as a central hub for the wider community, which was not uncommon for 19^th century hotels in New Zealand.

View from the Colombo Street bridge looking south to the Cathedral: at left is the Oxford Hotel and at right is Market (Victoria) Square, c. 1885. Image: Christchurch City Library, File Reference CCL Photo CD 02 IMG0020.

Image: Star 22/4/1878: 4.

The hotel was nice and close to Victoria Square, first known as Market Square and a centre of activity in early Christchurch. This must have been good for business and it allowed the hotel to cater to the wider community, hosting meetings and events, acting as a morgue or emergency room in some cases (Press 15/4/1879: 2; Star 4/2/1890: 3), and all the while supplying cheap alcohol from the pub. During Dann’s operation of the hotel he offered membership to a skittle alley and often hosted skittle and quoit tournaments. Mail and messages could be left at the Oxford by or for patrons (Star 28/4/1869: 3), so it functioned as a post office too. Most importantly, though, the Oxford Hotel was a pub: Dann’s advertisements in the local newspapers constantly mentioned the array of spirits available, with an emphasis on the cheap prices.

Of the 925 glass artefacts recovered from the site, 395 were black beer bottles, 196 were wine bottles and another 99 were other liquor or spirit bottles. There were also 52 porter or stout bottles. Sounds like a lot of alcohol, right? Think again. To put it into context, even if only one bottle of alcohol were drunk a day, this would represent little more than two year’s drinking. So where did all the other bottles go, then? Well, the Avon River was conveniently close…

Adley advertisement. Image: Lyttelton Times 23/8/1862: 3.

Sample of black beer and wine bottle bases from the site. The black beer bottles that make up the bulk of this assemblage become less common after 1880. As such, it is likely that these bottles were associated with either Adley or Dann’s period at the hotel. Image: K. Webb.

A number of smoking pipes were also found, confirming that the combination of alcohol and tobacco was just as common in the 19^th century as it is today. Many of the pipes were made by Charles Crop, a manufacturer from London whose pipes have been found on hotel and residential sites in both New Zealand and Australia (Brassey 1991: 30; Macready et al. 1990: 57). Tantalisingly, the embossing on some of the pipe stems hints at the origins of some of the smokers: “QUEENSLANDER” and “LACHLANDER”. Perhaps the smoker purchased these as a reminder of home.

‘Crop’ smoking pipes. Image: K. Webb.

Examples of pharmaceuticals. Image: K. Webb.

One surprising aspect of the archaeological assemblage was the large array of pharmaceutical bottles. The bottles included anything and everything, from Barry’s Tricopherous – which claimed to preserve, restore and beautify the hair, preventing baldness and grey hair (Nelson Evening Mail 29/1/ 1870: 3) – to items such as Piesse and Lubin’s perfumes. Items of medicinal use were also recovered, such as Kay Brothers Essence of Linseed, for those pesky coughs, and J. C Eno’s Effervescing Fruit Salts for indigestion. A toothbrush and toothpaste jar were also recorded. Perhaps these were personal items used by the proprietor’s family, or by guests who stayed there. Or perhaps these were offered to guests in the way that complimentary shampoo and conditioner are offered today – after all, it was advertised as first class accommodation.

Image: Star, 24/12/1874: 4.

A significant quantity of cups and saucers were also found, indicating that the hotel was serving more than just alcohol. The tea cups and saucers collected from the site were largely porcelain and decorated with a gilt tea leaf or sprigged design. A number of whiteware teawares were also gilt-banded and it may have been that the hotel had a gilt decorated tea set.

Porcelain ‘sprigged’ ware. Image: K. Webb.

Efforts to provide a first class establishment are also evident in the ceramics used as serving ware. Serving wares, such as tureens, and dining ware, such as plates, were also recorded in large numbers. A number of ceramics were decorated with the Asiatic Pheasants, Willow or Beauty patterns, suggesting that the hotel may have had several matching dinner sets. Although all these patterns are common in 19th and early 20th century archaeological sites, they would have completed the dining room experience and that feeling of first rate service for hotel patrons.

A plate decorated with the Asiatic Pheasants pattern. Image: K. Webb.

Faunal remains. Image: K. Webb.

Like many New Zealand hotels, the Oxford Hotel appears to have offered some more ‘exotic’ meats on its menu, including birds, cockles, oysters and a little bit of fish. The remains of these non-mammalian meats are rarely found at 19^th century European archaeological sites in Christchurch, except at hotel sites. As today, people went out to eat more exotic meals than they might have had at home. From the sheep bones, we know that roast legs of lamb or mutton were being served, and may have been the most popular meal at the hotel, followed by cuts from the shoulder.

The evidence from the Oxford Hotel says many things. It tells us how the hotel operated as just that, a hotel. It provided guests with a first class dining experience that included matching dining sets and porcelain tea sets. It was a place where people drank beer and wine while overlooking Victoria Square and the Avon River. But the evidence also remembers the building and the people who operated and frequented a local and successful pub, where alcohol was consumed in quantities, where pipes were smoked leisurely and a game of skittles echoed in the background. It was a hub, a central link to Christchurch’s development and maybe, just maybe, someone’s favourite place in 19th century Christchurch.

Kim Bone

References

Brassey R. 1991. Clay Tobacco Pipes from the Site of the Victoria Hotel, Auckland, New Zealand. Australian Journal of Historical Archaeology 9: 27-30.

The Cyclopedia of New Zealand [Canterbury Provincial District] 1903. [online] Available at: <http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz//tm/scholarly/tei-Cyc03Cycl.html>.

Greenaway, R.L.N., 2007. Woolston/Heathcote Cemetery Tour. [online] Available at: <http://christchurchcitylibraries.com/Heritage/Cemeteries/Woolston/HeathcoteCemetery.pdf>.

Macready, S. and Goodwyn, J., 1990. Slums and Self Improvement: The History and Archaeology of the Mechanics Institute, Auckland, and its Chancery Street Neighbourhood. Vol 2: The Artefacts and Faunal Material. Science and Research. Internal Report No 92. Department of Conservation.

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

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

Christchurch uncovered

Exploring Christchurch's past through archaeology

Author Archives: Katharine

A message in a bottle

The Victorian Christchurch Child

A lot of old rubbish!

References

Black deeds in Draper Street

References

‘It isn’t all beer and skittles’