Author Archives: Katharine

A gentleman’s home

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Imagine you’re John Cracroft Wilson. It’s 1854 and you’ve just arrived in the fledgling settlement of Christchurch. You’re 46, English and educated at Oxford, although you were born in India and spent most of your life there, making a name for yourself in the civil service. You’ve arrived at Lyttelton with your second wife, a daughter from your first marriage, a retinue of Indian servants and some livestock.

John Cracroft Wilson, c.1878. Source: Rolleston album 2. Ref: PA1-q-197-22-4, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand.

John Cracroft Wilson, c.1878. Source: Alexander Turnbull Library.

You’re here for a couple of reasons. Firstly, you’re suffering from stress and a sabbatical has been recommended. Secondly, you’re looking for somewhere for ex-East India Company employees to retire to. And apparently you have some plans of your own – and money. You tried Australia on the way here, but didn’t much like that, but you think Canterbury sounds pretty good, because there’s land, lots of it, and apparently it’s there for the taking.

And take it you do: Cracroft station (one of Canterbury’s biggest runs), High Peak station and Broadlands station were all taken up by Wilson during his first sojourn in New Zealand, along with land in the suburb we now know as Cashmere. This is where Wilson made his home (he had managers on each of his stations) and it’s this home that interests us.

Back to imaging that you’re Wilson and it’s 1854. Christchurch is pretty new at this point, and building materials are in short supply. The nearest timber is at Riccarton, Papanui or on Banks Peninsula. But anyway, you’re from a class of English society that believes in building in permanent materials. Unfortunately, however, the brick industry’s not really established in Canterbury yet and, well, it’d be a whole lot cheaper to make your own, especially as you have all those servants and some useful materials nearby.

And so that’s what Wilson did. He used sun-dried mud (adobe) bricks for the exterior walls of his house and for the internal walls on the ground floor, while the walls on the first floor were mud-and-stud. The mud bricks were made by Wilson’s Indian servants from a mixture of earth, clay, sand and vegetable matter, much of which would have been sourced nearby.

Top: An external wall, Cracroft House. Bottom: An internal mud & stud wall on the first floor.

Top: An external wall, Cracroft House. Bottom: An internal mud & stud wall on the first floor. Photos: I. Hill.

Analysing these bricks tells us that the mixture was set into wooden frames (with four sides) that sat on a bed of straw, the excess material raked off the top and the bricks left to dry in the sun. The resulting bricks were 1 foot long, 6 inches wide and weighed 7.5 kg each. Wilson also used some lightly fired red bricks in the external walls and used these bricks and mud bricks in the chimney. The mortar used in the walls was also a cob mixture (but contained no vegetable matter), and the walls were coated with a thick clay plaster, with a thin lime plaster on top of this.

Top: Sun-dried red bricks. Bottom: Sun-dried mud bricks. Note the ridges on the top of both bricks, and the variation in shape and size. Photo: I. Hill.

Top: Sun-dried red bricks. Bottom: Sun-dried mud bricks. Note the ridges on the top of both bricks, and the variation in shape and size. Photo: I. Hill.

Sticking with the theme of using locally available materials, Wilson used basalt blocks for the house’s foundations (these would have come from a quarry on the Port Hills). On top of this layer of basalt sat a layer of gravel and earth, and then a layer of mud mortar. The base course of the external wall was a layer of relatively small high quality red bricks (also clearly made in a wooden frame set on the ground).

The use of timber in the house was kept to a minimum. Some timber framework was used in the internal walls and the roof was timber, including the shingles. Timber was also used for the veranda, doors, windows, architraves, skirting boards and floors.

The original shingles of Cracroft House being revealed during demolition. Photo: I. Hill.

The original shingles of Cracroft House being revealed during demolition. Photo: I. Hill.

Wilson built himself and his family a pretty basic house, for the most part using locally available – and probably relatively cheap – materials. But Wilson was no ordinary man. He was a descendant of the Cracrofts of Hackthorn Hall in Lincolnshire, a prominent figure in British India and would become a prominent figure in colonial Canterbury. This sort of man does not build himself an ordinary house. He builds himself a house with 11 rooms. That’s right, 11 rooms. In 1871 (the first year for which statistics are available), the average New Zealand house had just under four rooms. None of these rooms was a toilet or bathroom, facilities that were no doubted located a suitable distance from the house.

Wilson, then, had lots of space for entertaining, as befitted a gentleman of his status. History tells us that Wilson – who was later knighted for his role in the Indian Mutiny – was known for both his generosity and paying low wages, as well as his egotism, arrogance and kindness, and his honesty. To me, his house reflects the contradictions in Wilson’s personality – it was a large house, built with rooms and space to share, and it was a plain house, built honestly and cheaply using local materials. It was also a farm house, not a city house. And unlike many farmers who built relatively simple homes in the early years of settlement, Wilson never replaced his house, dying there in 1881. In this way, too, Cracroft House epitomises Wilson’s frugality.

North elevation, Cracroft House. Image: K. Webb.

North elevation, Cracroft House. Image: K. Webb.

Katharine Watson

References

Acland, L. G. D., 1975. Early Canterbury Runs. 4th ed. Whitcoulls, Christchurch.

Kristiansen, T., 2012. John Cracroft Wilson. Dictionary of New Zealand Biography. [online] Available at: http://www.teara.govt.nz/en/biographies/1w31/wilson-john-cracroft.

Ogilvie, G., 2009. The Port Hills of Christchurch. Phillips&King Publishers, Christchurch.

Toomath, W., 1986. Built in New Zealand: The houses we live in. HarperCollins Publishers, Auckland.

“He’s jist sharpening his teeth”

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One of the exciting things about being an archaeologist in Christchurch at the moment is that we’re digging up lots and lots of artefacts. And the more artefacts you dig up, the more chances there are of finding something rare or unusual. Sometimes the rarity relates to the monetary or sentimental value of the artefact, such as the fobwatch we talked about a couple of weeks ago. And sometimes the unusual artefact is something pretty ordinary.

Like a toothbrush.

Toothbrush

Bone toothbrush handle found on an archaeological site in Christchurch. This was made by S. Maw, Son & Thompson. Their trademark is impressed on the handle, along with the words “ALPASS LIVERPOOL” (Photo: K. Webb).

This teardrop-shaped bone toothbrush handle was found during archaeological work on an historic hotel site in Christchurch, along with a ceramic toothpaste pot (below) and other personal artefacts. We were pretty excited to find it, since toothbrushes (or even parts of them) aren’t often found on 19th century archaeological sites in New Zealand. Our research suggests that this may be a result of vastly different attitudes towards oral hygiene at this time, not only in New Zealand but throughout the world.

toothpaste-pot-copy

John Gosnell and Co. cherry toothpaste pot and lid found along with the toothbrush. The lid is decorated with a polychrome transfer print that features the image of a young Queen Victoria. More information about Gosnell’s products is available here.

The humble bristle toothbrush originated in China, although ‘toothsticks’ and the like are known to have been used for thousands of years. These earliest bristle toothbrushes weren’t so humble, being made of expensive materials like ivory, gold (imagine!), silver or precious wood. So only the very wealthy could afford them, although there were some cheaper toothbrushes around. In Europe, however, people cleaned their teeth using sticks or rags… Toothbrushes were available in England from at least the 17th century but weren’t common until a certain William Addis was thrown in jail in 1780 for starting a riot. At least, that’s how the story goes. Whatever the truth of the matter, Addis is credited with introducing cheap bone-handled toothbrushes to England, and no doubt kick-starting a revolution in dental hygiene. Addis’s toothbrushes were typically made from animal bones and the bristles also came from animals. Badger bristles were apparently the most expensive but pig bristles were more common.

Pages from Maw and Sons Book of Illustrations to S. Maw & Son’s Quarterly Price-Current.

We know that from c.1850 on many toothbrushes were imprinted with trademarks, slogans or details of the manufacturer and our toothbrush is no exception. It’s stamped with the mark of S. Maw, Son & Thompson (see photo above). From this, we know that the toothbrush was made between 1870 and 1901, when this firm was in operation.

The Maw firm was the largest pharmaceutical wholesaler in Britain and was actually a distributor of toothbrushes, not a manufacturer (i.e. a middleman). From 1870-1901, they sold toothbrushes made by William Addis & Son Brushworks, the company founded by William Addis almost a century earlier and continued by his son. The words “ALPASS LIVERPOOL” were also stamped on the handle and probably indicate the place of manufacture: Alpass Road in Liverpool, England. The number ’29’ stamped below the head indicates the manufacturer’s model number.

So why are toothbrushes – and toothpaste pots – so rare on 19th century archaeological sites in New Zealand, given that they’re such everyday items today (not to mention items that are thrown out pretty regularly)? Lots of chemists and druggists in New Zealand were advertising toothbrushes for sale, so they were definitely available.

We think that the rarity reflects a lack of awareness of the importance of dental hygiene, and possibly also that a rag – which would always be readily available and would cost nothing – would do the job just fine, thanks. And dentists in the 19th century had a pretty fearsome reputation, so anything to do with dental hygiene may have been a little suspect. But there might have been some other factors too, including the cost of toothbrushes.

So who used our toothbrush? It could have been the proprietor of the hotel, or a guest. If it was the proprietor, however, we might have found more toothbrushes, given that probably even 19th century toothbrushes needed to be replaced regularly. Our guess, then, is that it was used by a guest. We don’t know for certain that the same guest left the toothpaste pot behind, but it seems reasonably likely, given the rarity of both artefacts in 19th century archaeological sites in New Zealand. And who knows, maybe a hotel servant who chanced to see this guest brushing their teeth thought the guest was in fact sharpening his teeth.

Kirsa Webb

Bibliography
  • Mattick, B., 2010. A Guide to Bone Toothbrushes of the 19th and early 20th Centuries. Barbara E. Mattick, USA, available from Xlibris Corporation.
  • Maw, S & Son, 1869. Book of Illustrations to S. Maw & Son’s Quarterly Price-Current. Butler & Tanner, London. Available at: http://archive.org/details/bookofillustrati00mawsuoft.
  • Press, 18 February 1874, page 3.
  • Taranaki Herald, 1 November 1880, page 4.

I am an archaeologist

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I am an archaeologist. I’m not interested in dinosaurs. Or rocks. I don’t look for gold. And I’m no more interested in the pyramids than most people.

But I’m fascinated by people, and our past, and the lives of those who went before us, especially here in Christchurch. I want to know how people have dealt with the area we know as Christchurch since Māori first arrived. I want to know what people ate, how they set their table, the medicines they took, the alcohol they drank, how they furnished their houses, what sort of houses they lived in. And more than that, I want to know how Christchurch’s 19th century settlers viewed their world. What did they make of this place they’d come to? How did they deal with the challenges it provided, and a life so far from all that was familiar and comfortable? How did Māori deal with these new settlers from so far away, who brought so much that was new and different with them? And how did these decisions build the city we live in today?

bottles

Black beer bottles. Although they may have originally contained beer it is likely that the bottles were reused for other liquids. Photo: K. Webb.

I’m an historical archaeologist. That means that as well as looking at the physical remains of an archaeological site – such as buildings, garden features, rubbish pits, artefacts and the vast array of other material that might be found on an archaeological site – I use documents to help me understand these sites. So I look at photographs, maps, plans, old newspapers, diaries, letters, account books, etc. But so often, these documents don’t tell me what people were eating for dinner or how they treated their cold. Or, they might lie, or embellish, or miss out details that seem ordinary or boring. For me, archaeology’s power is its ability to reveal those ordinary, everyday details, because by pulling together those details, we can learn so much more about our past, and about who we are today.

DSC_0370

Transfer printed porcelain bowl made by the Staffordshire pottery firm W. T. Copeland in the 1850s. Photo: K. Webb.

To me, the artefacts we find provide us with a direct connection to the people who made Christchurch. I can hold the fragments of a china bowl in my hand that was someone’s treasured possession, brought with them all the way from England. And when I hold that bowl, it makes me stop and think about how brave they were to start a new life in a new settlement, knowing that they might never see the rest of their family again. And that whenever they used that bowl, they thought of their family back home, of all they had left behind, and all that they had gained since arriving in Christchurch.

I’ve worked in Christchurch as an archaeologist since 2000. Since the earthquakes of 2011, the volume of archaeological work in the city has increased dramatically. This blog is a long-held dream of mine, a way to share our discoveries and to show you the power and importance of archaeology. So, take a look around, sign up to get our news feeds, follow our Facebook page and join us as we discover more about this Christchurch of ours!

Katharine Watson

power-house1

Archaeologist Katharine Watson with Paul Thomas discussing the remains of the power house in Reefton. Photo: K. Burnett.