George Gould’s Cookham House

I always think that historical archaeology is a discipline that readily invokes feelings of nostalgia and sentimentality. The familiarity of the material culture makes it particularly easy to romanticise artefacts, to imagine oneself in the past. Shoes, in particular, are an artefact that lend themselves to these types of thoughts and feelings. It may be because of the adage ‘to put yourself in someone else’s shoes’, but when holding a pair of shoes from the 1860s it is easy to wonder about who might have worn them. Were these shoes worn by a settler when they climbed the Bridle Path and stood at the top of the Port Hills looking out over their new home for the first time? Were they chosen for their sturdiness, given the boggy and haphazard roads of early Christchurch? Did the wearer sigh in winter as they pulled them on and went out into the cold and wet? Did they polish them every night to keep them looking their best? The personal nature of shoes- the individual taste in style, the practicality of design, the wear that they suffered over their lifetime- provide a tangible link to a time and place that we can only imagine what living in was actually like.

Shoes are a common find on our archaeological sites in Christchurch. They show up in most of our domestic assemblages indicating that once they had been outgrown, or worn past the point of repair, the wearer would throw them away. It is these shoes in particular that evoke the feelings described above. We often know who was living at the site, meaning that we can put a name to the wearer of the shoes, and flesh out some of the details of their life. We can metaphorically ‘walk a mile in their shoes’ when we analyse them.

A pair of shoes from a 19th century Armagh Street archaeological site, what do these shoes tell us about the person that wore them? Image: C. Watson.

The shoe assemblage that I’m writing about today is slightly different. These shoes were never sold, never had the opportunity to be worn by an early Christchurch settler. They never made it out of the shop, and instead were thrown out as discarded stock. But that does not mean that they don’t have their own story to tell. It just means that it’s a slightly different story, one about commerce and business. And at the centre of that story is George Gould, one of 19th century Christchurch’s wealthiest men.

George Gould, the owner of our shoe assemblage, but not the wearer. Image: Press, 25/10/1930: 19. 

George Gould was born in April 1823, at Hambleden Lock, Oxfordshire. He came to New Zealand in 1850, arriving first in the North Island but shortly after coming to Canterbury. His house and store that he built in Armagh Street was the first wooden building finished in Christchurch. From May of 1851, he advertised that he had opened a general store. This general store was to be the foundation of Gould’s wealth, yet it was not easy running a store in 1850s Christchurch. All goods arriving into Lyttelton had to be transported to Christchurch, and with the tunnel not yet built and a carriage costing 30s to 40s, Gould reportedly carried many of his loads of stock on his back over the hill. Gould went into partnership with Grosvenor Miles in 1855, moving to a new store in Colombo Street, where the shop sold a range of goods including shoes and clothing. In 1859, he split from his partnership with Miles. Miles was to continue the general store on the western side of Colombo Street, while Gould would move to a new store on the eastern side of Colombo Street and take the shoe and clothing portion of the business with him. Gould named his shop Cookham House, and it was so successful that by the end of 1862 he had already outgrown the building and moved to new store further along Colombo Street. Gould’s business was threatened when a fire broke out in 1866, damaging his shop and his stock. Gould reportedly responded to the fire by writing out an order for new stock as he watched his building burn to ensure that it would make the mail ship to England the next morning.

In addition to Gould’s shoe shop, he had a chemists shop and he was a large rural landowner. He was the first to export wheat from New Zealand to London and at one time was the largest exporter of wool from Canterbury (Cyclopedia Company, 1903). It was Gould’s agricultural interests that supplied most of his wealth, but his various business interests complimented each other. He had a prominent roles in the Christchurch Gas Company and the New Zealand Shipping Company, as well as other banking, insurance, and building societies. All of these business interests made Gould a wealthy man. He built his large mansion on the corner of Bealey Ave and Springfield Road in 1866, naming it Hambledon House after his birth place (sadly this building did not survive the earthquakes). He was a generous benefactor to the Canterbury Museum, Christs College, the Wesleyan Church, the YMCA, the Canterbury A & P Association, and numerous other Christchurch societies and working mens groups. Gould, in many ways, epitomised the ideal Victorian colonist. He started with very little capital, but with hard work and good judgement was successful, and then shared the fruits of that success with those who were less fortunate. The eulogies written in the newspapers following his death in 1889 focus on this generosity and it is hard to find a bad word written against him.

Gould’s 1851 house and shop, the first wooden building in Christchurch. Image: Christchurch City Libraries. 

10 May 1851 advertisement by George Gould advertising the opening of his general store. Image: Lyttelton Times, 10/05/1851: 1. 

So, what do Gould’s shoes say about him? We came across Gould during our excavations at the new Court Theatre site. Gould’s 1859-1862 shoe shop, Cookham House, was located on the corner of Gloucester Street and Colombo Street. North of where the store would have stood, we found a pit that contained a large assemblage of shoes. A total of 2089 fragments of shoe leather were found in this pit, with these representing at least 60 individual shoes (probably more). The shoes were in a condensed layer in the pit, indicating that they had most likely been thrown out in a single dumping event. The 1862 map of Christchurch shows that Gould’s original store had been extended after Gould moved to his new shop and the next occupant took over the building, with this extension capping the pit. From this, we know that the shoes have to have been deposited by September 1862 at the latest. This means that the shoe assemblage is able to give us a good insight into the types and styles of shoes that Gould was selling in the early 1860s.

The location of our pit feature, indicated by the red arrow. Image: Fooks, 1862. 

The original Cookham House located on the corner of Colombo Street and Gloucester Street. This photograph is from 1881 when then store was A. Gee’s Confectionery shop. Image: Wheeler and Son Studio, 1881.

The pit mid-excavation. The shoes were in a concentrated and dense layer near the base of the pit. Image: A. Kelly.

During our excavation of the pit we observed that several of the shoes had been thrown away intact, with the fill of this layer of the pit mainly consisting of shoes stacked ontop of each other. Image: A. Kelly.

A complete boot from the pit. Image: A. Kelly.

The shoes post-excavation and ready to be sorted and analysed. Image: C. Watson.

Looking at the styles of the shoes that were deposited in the pit, while there was some variation, most of the shoes seemed to be repeats of the same styles. Men’s derby work boots with a square toe were common. Most of these had reinforcing on the ball of sole in the form of hobnails, as well as heel plates on the heel. Women’s or youth’s boots, in contrast, seemed to by mostly oxford style boots with a more round toe. Some of these had heel plates as reinforcing, but no hobnails on the sole. The derby and oxford boots dominated the assemblage, but six bluchers, four slippers, and four Wellington boots were also identified. It is interesting to note the gender divisions in the assemblage, indicating that men and women were choosing to wear different styles of shoes. The reinforcing seen in the men’s shoes suggests that there was a practical reason behind the choice in different styles, with men requiring harder wearing boots a reflection of the gendered division of labour in the 19th century. But the more square toes of the men’s derby boots, and the oxford style of the women’s boots, indicates that there was also a stylistic element of men’s and women’s shoes looking different from one and other.

Some of the different styles of shoes found in the pit. Top: upper and sole from a men’s derby working boot. The sole has been reinforced with hobnails. Middle: a slipper and a wellington boot. These styles of shoes are not commonly seen in Christchurch archaeological assemblages. Bottom: blucher boot and women/youth’s oxford boot. Image: C. Watson.

Most of the boots were hand sewn using a welt. This is quite a different manufacture method to what is normally seen in the Christchurch archaeological assemblage. The majority of boots and shoes found in Christchurch were made using methods of vertical attachment. This was when the upper was attached to the sole using a nail or a wooden peg. The use of a different manufacture method to what is typically seen in Christchurch 19th century shoes, is thought to reflect that these shoes were imported.

Seven of the shoes from the feature had the initials “J B” incised on the insole. J. Burrows and Son was a shoe manufacturer based in Cookham, England, and in operation from at least 1852 (Slater, 1852: 20). The company was still in operation in 1883, but appears to have ceased operations by 1895 (Historical Cookham, 2023). Descriptions of the company indicate that they were manufacturing boots and shoes for the wholesale market and that they were a major employer in Cookham, with many in the village employed in their factory. Advertisements in the newspapers indicate that Gould was importing boots from Burrow and Sons and it is likely that Gould’s Cookham House was so named for Cookham in England, with Cookham boots being well known (Lyttelton Times, 6/10/1860: 2).

The various JB marks that were seen on the shoes from the feature. Maker’s marks aren’t common on shoes found in Christchurch archaeological features, so to get so many in one assemblage was really unusual. Image: C. Watson.

Gould’s advertisements indicate that he was importing shoes in large quantities. In July of 1859 he advertised that he currently had 3,500 pairs of shoes in stock and had another 3,500 arriving (Lyttelton Times, 27/07/1859:6). In October 1860 he advertised that he had 6,000 pairs of shoes recently arrived and available for purchase (Lyttelton Times, 3/10/1860: 5). In July of 1861 he advertised that he had 6,500 pairs of shoes recently arrived and another 7,500 pairs arriving (Lyttelton Times, 6/7/1861: 5). Given that the population of Christchurch was only about 3,000 people in 1862 (Christchurch City Council, 2023), it is unlikely that Gould was importing stock only to sell at his shop. Instead, given the quantities that Gould was importing, it seems most likely that Gould was probably selling to other shoe shops and general stores in Christchurch and wider Canterbury and New Zealand, acting as a middleman, so to speak, between the shoemakers in Cookham, England, and the shoe shops in New Zealand. While Gould likely had shoes available for purchase at the Cookham House store, it does not seem possible that the shop could have a stock turnover of at least 7,000 shoes a year selling just to off the street customers with Christchurch’s population at this time.

One of Gould’s advertisements stating his current stock levels. Image: Lyttelton Times, 6/7/1861: 5.

Searches of newspaper advertisements reveal that there were at least eight other shoe shops operating in Christchurch and Lyttelton during the 1859-1862 period. Six of these appear to be small business cobblers, working either alone or with a small staff, making shoes and boots from scratch and offering repairs (S. Webb, W. Holmes, John Bennington, T. Yates, W. Walker, Joseph Suckling). These small business cobblers do not appear to have advertised extensively, and it is likely that there were more operating than is listed here.  The two other businesses appear to have been larger and similar to Gould’s Cookham House. Henry Moss’s Monster Clothing Hall sold a large range of clothing and imported boots and shoes, while S. Goodman’s Boot and Shoe Warehouse also advertised that they sold imported shoes and boots. Goodman and Moss seem to have been Gould’s main competition at this time, although Moss’s business seems to have been more focused on the clothing side, with shoes and boots complimenting the clothing sales. Henry Moss opened on London Street, Lyttelton in 1858, with a Christchurch branch opening on High Street in 1862, while S. Goodman opened his Colombo Street business in 1860. This makes Gould’s business the earliest, with Gould advertising imported boots at his first store back in 1851, suggesting that the others may have observed Gould’s success and opened up in competition with him.

The main advantage of importing shoes, rather than manufacturing, appears to have been the price point at which they could sell shoes to the customer. This difference in business model, between manufacturing on site and importing pre-made shoes, is seen in the Christchurch shoe shop businesses beyond 1862. The difference is highlighted in two advertisements from an 1884 edition of the Star. John Goodman’s shoe shop, Cheap Boot and Shoe Depot, was a successor of S. Goodman’s Boot and Shoe Warehouse operating under the same business model of importing shoes from England. Goodman’s advertisement, pictured below, highlights cost as being the main reason why customers should buy from him- he advertised the prices of his shoes and claimed he had the cheapest shoes in Christchurch (and he literally called his business ‘Cheap Boot and Shoe Depot’).

Goodman’s advertisement, hilighting price being the main selling point for buying from him. Image: Star, 11/3/1884: 1. 

Alfred Crook’s advertisement, located just above Goodman’s in the newspaper, is a direct contrast:

I- Alfred Crook- do hereby confess that I do not possess the required knowledge to enable myself to promise to perform the extraordinary act of selling my Goods at Less than Cost Price, or even at Cost Price. I do NOT boast of making those Wonderful Sweeping Reductions in the Price of my Goods, to mislead and to mizzle my fellow working men; but I have sufficient impudence in myself to assert that I make my Goods of such high class quality that they by far EXCEL THOSE THAT ARE SOLD ELSEWHERE. Remember! I Manufacture ALL my Own Goods, and do Not make Trash; therefore, I challenge all others at the game, and to relieve myself of the trouble to resort to the customary Blowing System, I respectfully invite you to visit Cheapside Shop.

Alfred Crook’s very pointed advertisement, making it clear that he thought cheap imported boots were ‘trash’. Image: Star, 11/3/1884: 1. 

The very pointed wording of Alfred Crook’s advertisement shows the difficulties that local cobblers faced when trying to compete with businesses importing shoes from overseas. Ultimately, given the number of cobblers making shoes from scratch today, it is obvious which business model succeeded.

When considering the Gould’s shoe assemblage, an important question is why were the shoes thrown out in the first place? While shoes and boots should have travelled reasonably well, not being as fragile as ceramic and glass, there was still the potential for them to be damaged during the journey. In 1862 Mr S. C. Philips advertised that he was selling at auction 136 pairs of boots that had been damaged by sea water (New Zealander, 13/09/1862: 1). It was possible that the shoes disposed of represent stock that was damaged by salt water during the journey from England and weren’t in a saleable condition. There is also the possibility that the discarded shoes may represent surplus stock that remained unsold and was thrown out when new stock arrived. Gould’s main reason for moving to a new premise in 1862 was that his business had outgrown the store on the corner of Colombo and Gloucester, and that he needed more space. In a similar vein, there is the possibility that the shoes represent an order that was never claimed. If Gould was acting as the agent between Cookham in England and Christchurch retailers, then it is likely that the local businesses would have placed orders with Gould. If one of the businesses that placed the order went bankrupt, or could not pay for the order for some reason, then Gould may have chosen to throw it out rather than try to sell it, possibly for the storage space reasons already mentioned.

So, we return to the question of what do Gould’s shoes say about him? I think the main thing that they say is that while he may have owned a shoe shop, Gould was a businessman, not a cobbler. The relative completeness of the assemblage, the lack of any shoe-making off cuts, the presence of the “J B” Burrow and Sons mark, the presence of multiples of the same style of shoe, all speak to that the assemblage represents imported and unsold Cookham House stock. And that Gould could throw out so many shoes, speaks to the success of his business, that he could take the loss of whatever reason was behind the discard and not need to try and recover the cost.

We find hints of stories like Gould’s all the time in the archaeology of 19th century Christchurch. Most of the artefacts that we excavate are examples of the commercial relationships that existed between Christchurch and the rest of the world. But with Gould’s shoe assemblage, we can put ourselves in his shoes, so to speak, and imagine what it would be like running a business in Christchurch in 1851 when a year could pass between placing an order and the stock arriving. Would you pay for a carriage or carry deliveries on your back from Lyttelton? What would you do if your stock arrived mouldy and damaged, or burnt in a fire? And, if you were incredibly successful and grew to be very rich, would you be as generous with your money as George Gould was?

Clara Watson

References

Lyttelton Times, 1851-1914. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/ (accessed April 2021).

Press, 1861-1945. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/ (accessed April 2021).

Slater. 1852. Slater’s Directory of Berkshire, 1852. Slater, Berkshire.

Star, 1868-1920. [online] Available at: <https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/> Accessed April 2021.

A Disturbing Discovery

Disclaimer: the topics discussed in this blog post include descriptions of murder, torture and rape. Reader discretion is advised.

 

It was around a year ago that Underground Overground Archaeology again hit the mainstream news, this time with stories about our excavations at the site of the new Court Theatre (a few of those stories here, here, and here). While it’s great when media outlets publish stories about the archaeological work that we do, there are definitely pros and cons to the pieces. The main pro is, of course, that a much wider range of people get to hear about the archaeological work that we do in Christchurch, rather than just those that follow us on social media or keep up with this blog. The cons are that because the journalists that are reporting the stories aren’t archaeologists and often have word or time limits to keep to, their stories can be quite brief and often focus in on the stereotype that the only thing us archaeologists are interested in is ‘treasure’. Now, don’t get me wrong, us archaeologists are the first to get excited when we find a rare or unusual artefact, but we’re not pirates. For us, the real ‘treasure’ is the stories that the artefacts tell us about the lives of people of the past, rather than the artefacts themselves. Working out those stories comes long after excavation is finished and only happens once we have gone through all of the information we’ve collected, the notes on the features that we took when we excavated them, the results of the artefact analysis, and the information that we can draw from the historical record, and see what these three information sources, along with anything else we might have access to, can tell us. A lot of the time when we’re getting mainstream media interest, it’s at the time of the archaeological excavation, meaning that we haven’t yet worked out all the interesting stories as we are only at the start of figuring them out. That was very much the case when we were being interviewed about the Court Theatre site, where one of the ‘treasures’ that the journalists were most interested in was a clay pipe. A year later, we are now at a point where we’ve done most of the artefact analysis and we can actually start to narrow down some of those stories that the artefacts from the site are able to tell us.

A classic example of the use of ‘treasure’ by the mainstream media. While they’re not wrong, it does perpetuate the stereotype of archaeologists as Indiana Jones type figures, which is very much not the case. Image: Otago Daily Times.

The clay pipe in question is probably the most violent and confronting artefact that we’ve had come out of an archaeological site in Christchurch, at least in recent years. The pipe was elaborately moulded and depicted a man, wearing a turban and Indian style dress, holding a sword above his shoulder, ready to strike. Next to him is a woman lying with one arm raised, her chest bare and her dress pooled at her waist. A baby lies at her feet. A woman is shown fleeing on the side of the bowl. Stamped on the stem of the pipe was “NA NA SAIB” and “DELHI”.

Image: C. Watson

The clay pipe is depicting an event known as the Bibighar massacre, which took place within the 1857 Indian Rebellion. This rebellion happened when sepoys, or Indian soldiers, mutinied against the East India Company. The East India Company had had a presence in India since the early 17th century, and by the 19th century was effectively responsible for the government of India and was employing sepoys within their army. The reasons behind the mutiny were complicated but were mainly a result of an accumulation of grievances, mostly around the structure of the army and treatment of the sepoys, and the treatment of landowners and high-status individuals by the British. Sepoys in Meerut and Delhi mutinied against the British officers in May of 1857, with the rebel sepoys taking control of Delhi. News of the mutinies spread, with sepoys in some regions also rebelling, while in other regions sepoys fought for the British. In June of 1857, the sepoys under the leadership of the British General Wheeler at Cawnpore (Kanpur) mutinied. This led to the Siege of Cawnpore, where General Wheeler, the British soldiers, and their families, were trapped by the rebel sepoys in an entrenchment for three weeks with little water or food. The siege came to an end on the 27th of June when Nana Saib, an Indian nobleman who was a prominent leader in the rebellion, offered safe passage to Wheeler and the British to the nearby river where they could board boats and leave Cawnpore. Wheeler trusted Nana, as prior to the rebellion he had been an ally to the East India Company. However, upon reaching the riverbank and beginning to board the boats, the Indian sepoys opened fire on the British, resulting in many casualties. The 120 women and children that survived the massacre were re-captured and taken as captives. They were taken to a local house, Bibighar, with a group of another 80 women and children captured from another town later also taken to the house. On July 15, this group of women and children were massacred in a brutal killing.

Sir Joseph Noel Paton painted In Memoriam in 1858 in honour of the victims of the Bibighar massacre. We suspect that this painting was one of the source works that inspired the design of the pipe, particularly the positioning of the central woman and child.

The Chamber of Blood’ is a tinted lithograph by Vincent Brooks after Lieutenant C W Crump, Madras Artillery, No. 2. It was part of the series ‘A Pictorial Record of the Cawnpore Massacre’ published by Henry Graves and Co., London, in 1858.

A memorial to the women and children killed in the massacre was erected by the British. The memorial is built over the well in which the women and children’s bodies were thrown.Image: S. Bourne.

Many reasons have been suggested for why the women and children were killed. Some historians have suggested that they were killed in the hope that it would stop East India Company forces from approaching Cawnpore. Others have suggested that it was to stop information from being leaked to the British if Cawnpore fell, or to undermine Nana Saib’s relationship with the British, or that it was simply an act of revenge for British murders of Indian civilians. Following the massacre at Bibighar, British soldiers retook Cawnpore and took the sepoys as prisoners. The British forced the sepoys to lick the blood that stained the walls and floors of the Bibighar as punishment. They were then hung, or ‘blew from the cannon’, a method of execution where the victim is tied to the mouth of a cannon, which is then fired. This method was used by the British in India as it destroyed the body and prevented Hindu and Muslim funerary rites from being carried out on the victim.  By the end of 1857, the British had largely regained control, with the final rebels defeated in June of 1858. The acts that took place as part of the Indian Mutiny included atrocious acts of violence by both sides. The rebellion resulted in the dissolution of the East India Company by the Government of India Act 1858, with the governing of India transferred to the British Crown.

Going back to the clay pipe that we found at the Court Theatre site, from an example in the Amsterdam Pipe Museum we know that the pipe was manufactured by French pipe manufacturers L. Fiolet. Louis Fiolet was a French pipe manufacturer based as St. Omer. Fiolet took over his grandfather’s business in 1834, adopting the usage of the ‘L. Fiolet’ mark at this time. Around 1885 Fiolet went into partnership with his son-in-law, George Audebert, as Fiolet and Audebert. Fiolet died in 1892 and the firm operated as Audebert Fiolet from 1893 onwards. Fiolet pipes are said to be second only to Gambier pipes in quality, and the company was one of the most prominent French pipe manufacturers in the 19th century, having a base in France and a shop in London (Hammond, 1987). While we can’t include a picture of the example from the Amsterdam Pipe Museum due to copyright, you can view it by clicking on the hyperlink. The Amsterdam Pipe Museum example shows that the pipe was coloured, with the Indian attacker’s skin coloured brown, and the British woman and the baby’s skin painted pink. Presumably our pipe was also painted, but that decoration  has weathered off our pipe due to it being buried in the ground for over 150 years.

At the time of our interviews a year ago, while we had worked out that the pipe was inspired by the Indian Mutiny, and we knew that it was made by L. Fiolet, we didn’t know the details of the Bibighar massacre that inspired the pipe. Having read the account of that massacre, it shines a new light on the brutality of the pipe. At the time of our interview, we made reference to how the pipe speaks to the globalised nature of the 19th century, the pipe being a French made pipe, inspired by Indian historical events, found in New Zealand. But it’s only now that we have done the more detailed research, that a more nuanced view appears.

The first reports of the Siege of Cawnpore and the massacre of British civilians were embellished by shocking tales of rape, torture and mutilation. Nana Saib, with his role in the munity and the massacre, became known as the ‘Tiger of Cawnpore’. Nana was the face of the massacre for the British public, and as a result of that became a pop culture villain who was referenced in tales about savagery and resistance to British authority within the empire. Plays, ballads, stories and paintings were quickly produced, with the sentiment of ‘remember Cawnpore’ an underlying message (Wallace, 2015). It is highly likely that Fiolet, with their presence in London and their targeting of the British market, were influenced by the popular culture of the period to produce the pipe, with the smoking pipe just one of several pop culture artefacts depicting the events of the mutiny and massacre. The depictions of Nana and the massacre in popular culture acted as propaganda, which was used by the British to generate public support for the British response to the rebellion, as well as justification for some of the atrocities carried out by British soldiers.

The design of the smoking pipe highlights the British view of the mutiny, and of Nana Saib as the ‘Tiger of Cawnpore’. The Indian sepoy’s skin is coloured brown, he is wearing a turban and Indian dress, and is armed with an Indian style sword, all clear indicators of his race and position. The woman is bare breasted, her clothes pooling at her waist and her hair loose. Her skin is painted pink, a clear reference to her ethnicity as British, and her half-nakedness both symbolises her vulnerability and gives connotations of rape. The baby at her feet is also painted pink and is naked, emphasising its vulnerability. The scene of the pipe depicts the atrocity of the Bibighar massacre and the most horrific of the actions by the Indians at the Siege of Cawnpore and is clearly designed for the British narrative of the events. The choice to depict women and children as the primary victims of the mutiny, rather than the largely male-dominated East India Company and military power structures the sepoys were rebelling against, was a deliberate one, and can be seen as the weaponization of white femininity in defence of the (patriarchal, European) imperial power structures at play in India at the time. Of course, historical events are often filled with contesting views. If the pipe manufacturer had been influenced by the Indian sepoy perspective on the Siege of Cawnpore, then the pipe might show the sepoys attacking the British, or the British forcing the sepoys to lick blood off the walls of the Bibighar, or tying them to cannons to execute them. In the 21st century we can’t ignore the power imbalances created by colonialism and the impossible standards that disempowered people were held to, where there was never a correct means of resistance. But we can acknowledge this and acknowledge that the British also committed atrocities, while still viewing what was done to the British women and children as a horrific act.

For the Victorian British and the perspective that was created through depictions of the mutiny in popular culture, Nana was the embodiment of the nightmare of British imperialism and empire building. He represented “the latent treachery of all subject races, the rejection of British Progress, the destruction of the sacred family unit” (Wallace, 2015: 611). The rubbish pit in which our smoking pipe was found dates to the 1860s, around the year 1866. In 1860s New Zealand, the New Zealand Wars were being fought in Taranaki and Waikato. By understanding the history of the events that the pipe depicts, and the image of Nana Saib in Victorian popular culture as the Tiger of Cawnpore, one has to wonder if the pipe’s presence in Christchurch was intended as a warning to British colonists living in the city, a reminder of what the local population can do when oppressed. The pipe is more than an example of the global trade connections that existed in the 19th century, it’s a symbol of British imperialism and the consequences of that. And understanding that history, and the relevance of that history to our current day society, is the true treasure that archaeology can uncover.

Clara Watson

References

Hammond, P., 1987. The London Commercial Agents of French Clay Pipe Manufacturers Fiolet and Audebert Fiolet. Society for Clay Pipe Research Newsletter. 15: 16-21.

Wallace, B., 2015. Nana Sahib in British Culture and Memory. The Historical Journal. 58 (2): 589-613.

 

2022 – Turns out it can get worse.

With the dawn of a new year (yes, we know it’s already April May June July, no we are not accepting constructive criticism at this time) the Under Over team has hit the ground running. The dream of a leisurely start back to the working week was quickly dashed with the rise of the new Court Theatre build. Kirsa assured us it would be a straightforward and easy site. Kirsa was in fact wrong. We have also been juggling many other sites, as per usual.

So, what have we all been up to? Our historians are hysterically working their magic, Clara is buried somewhere in the lab, while Jamie and Carly are sticking it out in Moncks Bay and the redzone. Nigel is in a brick barrel drain and Ashburton AND Akaroa (at the same time?!), Hamish is covered in rust, and Tristan is glued to a microscope. Our lovely lab team, Wendy and Naquita have frantically been washing shoes and torpedo bottle bases, Kirsa has been on field school (lucky) and invoicing (unlucky), and Neda, Rebecca, and Alana can be spotted in the wild somewhere in the CBD. All in all, the whole team has been putting in some major mahi these past few weeks months, and we thought we’d kick off the blog this year with some of our cool finds (It’s still technically the start of the year because we haven’t hit June July August yet, that’s our story and we’re sticking to it). We’ve summarised it down to our most dastardly sites and exciting finds for you (translation: we wrote most of this in early March… we’ve been busy).

Buckle up kids.

Court Theatre – Performing Arts Precinct

If any of you readers have been watching or reading the news recently (yes, we are famous now) you may have heard about the Court Theatre site. Additionally, if you  visited the library in January or February you may have spotted us working at the new Court Theatre site on the corner of Colombo Street and Gloucester Street. We were easy to spot given we were in full cover white asbestos suits – which are great in 30-degree heat (Rebecca here, did you know you can still get sunburnt through a full coverage suit? *Single tear smiling face*). Fun fact: asbestos itself is one of the few weaknesses of the archaeologist (along with alcohol free beer and snakes – naturally).

Figure 1. An archaeologist in the wild. If you listen carefully, you can hear them begrudging the asbestos.

The new Court Theatre site was originally home to Cookham House, a boot factory in operation from 1851. Many other businesses were soon established on the site facing Colombo Street. These included grocers, a butcher, a jeweller, a China and glassware shop, a confectioner, photographers, solicitors, drapers, and more. Essentially, this was a major boujie shopping centre, comparable to The Crossing or Merivale (Figure 2).

Figure 2. Colombo Street looking south in the 1880s. Image: Burton Brothers Studio, c.1884c.

With it being the site of a former boot factory, we had initially joked about how we would find large pits full of shoes. Unfortunately, the joke was on us as this was literally what we found (Figure 3). Feature 1 was a very large rubbish pit with “an entire archaeological layer of compressed shoes” (any Douglas Adams fans out there?). How many shoes you ask? Two fridges full.

Figure 3. Feature 1 half sectioned with the compressed layer of archaeological shoes, some bottles, and underlying roofing slate.

In total we encountered 49 archaeological features. I too was disappointed we didn’t have one more to get to 50 but believe me 49 was plenty. We encountered all sorts of features including rubbish pits of the large, extra-large, and outrageously large variety; multiple wells and artesian bores; building remains such as foundations and pile holes; a brick cesspit; a latrine; an infilled gully; and much more. With bulk earthworks only recently finishing we haven’t completed our analysis just yet, so stay tuned for future updates. But in the meantime, here are some photos!

Figure 4. X marks the spot of yet another very large archaeological feature.

Figure 5. A brick cesspit – don’t wonder too hard about what those layers are made up of.

Figure 6. A red brick well!

Figure 7. A yellow brick well! (follow, follow, follow, follow)

Figure 8. A clay smoking pipe recovered from a rubbish pit at the Court Theatre site – we may have an upcoming blog on clay pipes so stay tuned!

Superlot 15 – Cambridge Terrace

Much like the name suggests, there were many super things about Superlot 15. The ground was super hard, it was super hot, and the archaeology was super cool. Unlike the Court Theatre rebuild, which featured a fun viewing platform shaped like a large library, you probably didn’t see us digging at Superlot 15. This is because we were hiding a metre below the surface in the one corner on the site that was filled to the brim with archaeological features. Fun fact – the metre-high edge-of-excavation was to the west, so we spent a lot of time baking in the sun! Luckily, we had Brent on site who took it upon himself to build us a sunshade made up of various bits and pieces lying around on site, which we highly appreciated. We love an innovative king. He also gave us biscuits. Is he the best digger operator ever? We think so.

Figure 9. Local archaeologists grateful for shade on hot day. Photo also featuring variations of the ‘sexy sunhat’ and ‘naughty neckshade.’ Safety first, everybody! Make sure to bring electrolytes to site on a hot day (it’s got what plants crave).

The area currently dubbed ‘Superlot 15’ is an area originally made up of parts of 6 town sections, which was used for residential purposes. The houses were owned and built primarily by Edward Coxhead Mouldey and Charles Wellington Bishop. While the Bishop family likely lived on the section until the 1890s, Edward Mouldey owned Town Sections 229-233, and we suspect he did not personally live in all 8 houses on his own. Following his bankruptcy in 1888, ownership of Town Sections 229-233 eventually passed to Alfred Bullock, who leased the 8 dwellings. Aerial imagery from the 1940s suggests the 19th century houses survived well into the 20th century!

Figure 10. Detail from Strouts’ 1877 map of Christchurch showing buildings present on the relevant town sections. Town Sections 227 and 228 (coloured blue) were owned by the Bishops until the 1890s. The project area is indicated in red. Image: Strouts, 1877.

Figure 11. Aerial image from 1946, showing buildings previously on Superlot 15. 263 Cambridge Terrace (Town Sections 227 and 228) indicated in blue. The project area is outlined in red. Image: LINZ, 1946.

We had already spent quite a bit of time on Superlot 15 since works began and had found a scattering of archaeological features across the site, but nothing too dramatic. Turns out this gem was truly saving the best (?) for last. In the space of two days, we went from 10 features to 29, and we entered what I like to call ‘Survival Mode.’ There’s nothing quite like densely packed earth to push your excavation skills to the limit. The crew at Superlot 15 were very patient with us while we desperately tried to wrap our head around these features.

Figure 12. A small portion of our small area, showing rubbish pits in the fore, mid, and background.

Figure 13. Facing the opposite direction from the previous photo, some more features. A lot of the features on this site appeared to be connected for various reasons; these rubbish pits were connected/disturbed via a 20th century drainpipe. It made for some interesting digging!

A large amount of drainage features were encountered on site – earthenware pipes, a brick sump, and a brick chamber for an artesian well. This confirmed what we had suspected all along – whoever was living here did at some point have running water and plumbing – wow! The rubbish pits on this site came in all shapes and sizes, mostly containing a lot of household refuse typical to the 19th century including a wide range of ceramics, torpedo bottles, condiment bottles, tonnes of sheep bones, piles of oyster shells, and some other fun finds. Pictured below is Rebecca holding an anchovy paste jar. You can see by her expression that she is shocked people would eat something so repugnant. Another fun find was the Cavalier smoking pipe pictured below. This site is not yet finished, so stay tuned for more hard-packed earth.

Figure 14. Rebecca gasping at the anchovy paste jar recovered at Superlot 15. Endorsed by her Majesty Queen Victoria, we however, remain sceptical of the product.

Figure 15. Local French man featured on smoking pipe.

Figure 16. A half-sectioned rubbish pit with layers. From this view we can tell the rubbish was being deposited from the west (right) side of the feature. Feet included for artistic purposes only.

Updates from The Lab

The stoneware bottle pictured below is an unusual find. It was made for a specific pub, but not a pub in Christchurch, or even New Zealand. The impression on the bottle reads “BRAY/ Six Bells/ Chelsea base: FULHAM/ STONE/ POTTERY”. This tells us the stoneware flask was made by the Fulham Pottery, which was founded by John Dwight in 1672 and primarily manufactured stoneware up until the 1950s (Oswald, et al., 1982). Six Bells was a public house located at 197 Kings Road in Chelsea, that was established by at least 1722 and is still operating today as a restaurant. Members of the Bray family are listed as the publicans from at least 1823 until at least 1866. By 1881, a Christopher J. Aston is listed in the post office directories as the manager, indicating that the Bray’s association with the pub ended sometime after 1866 and before 1881 (pubwiki, 2022).

This suggests then that the stoneware flask was made by the Fulham Pottery specifically for the Bray family and the Six Bells pub – in Chelsea. It is hard to date the flask based on the available evidence, but a manufacture date range from approximately 1823 until 1866 is assumed.

While examples have been found on other Christchurch archaeological sites of table wares that have been commissioned specifically for hotels, there have not been any examples of stoneware bottles commissioned by, or for businesses located outside of New Zealand. Searches of Heritage New Zealand’s digital library revealed that it is probable that this is the first example of this type of bottle found on a New Zealand archaeological site. Google Image searches could not find a similar bottle, suggesting that either not many of the bottles were produced, or that not many have survived and that they are rare. It is likely that the stoneware bottle was brought specifically by Mr Bowley to New Zealand. Further historical research would need to be conducted into the Bowley family to determine what their connection to Chelsea and the Six Bells pub was, but the presence of the bottle would suggest that there was some connection.

Figure 17 . The stoneware bottle manufactured for the Six Bells pub in Chelsea.

To Conclude

All in all, the team have been working really hard (as per usual) and it’s been a rather exciting start to the year. Christchurch continues to surprise us with new archaeological discoveries and while we jest about how exhausting our sites have been recently, we wouldn’t have it any other way (Rebecca here – still advocating for a three-day weekend personally). While we quietly pray for a brief reprieve from field work to tackle our reports, we do in fact thrive in the chaos. Stay tuned for future finds as rumour has it, someone has a stadium to build or something.

-Rebecca and Alana <3

Beauty and the Beast Characters as Nineteenth Century Artefacts

As a bit of preface for this blog, for anyone not reading it on or around the 20th of August, 2021, New Zealand is back into a full lockdown and the whole country has gone a bit silly. So, in keeping with that spirit, today on the blog we are doing a Buzzfeed style article on Beauty and the Beast characters as 19th century artefacts found in Christchurch. This blog was inspired by our first artefact (and most definitely was not thought up as an excuse to justify a Disney+ subscription for “research purposes”). Enjoy!

Cogsworth

The artefact that inspired this post. Does the expression on the clock’s face just not remind you so much of Cogsworth?! On the left is the fragment that we found in one of our Lyttelton sites. If you thought that was amazing, the central image is the complete vase, which is even more amazing. I feel like the concerned expression on the face really captures Cogsworth’s worried personality.

Refined red earthenware vase with clock transfer print, N. Cross. The complete vase, Transferware Collectors Club.  Cogsworth, Disney Fandom.

Lumiere

Cogsworth’s best pal, the suave Lumiere would have to be this Miller lamp. While this is an oil lamp, and Lumiere is a candlestick, I feel that the silver plating and the decoration really demonstrate Lumiere’s sophistication in a way that some of the other candlesticks we’ve found before can’t.

Miller 1892 patent lamp, C. Watson. Lumiere, Disney Fandom.

Mrs Potts is a true gem. Not only does she take care of Belle and the rest of the household, but she sings Tale as Old as Time, an absolute banger. In the movie Mrs Potts is a porcelain teapot, but we don’t often find porcelain teapots here in Christchurch. So, instead I’ve gone with this silver lustre glazed teapot. It’s a little bit common, like Mrs Potts, but also literally shines, just like she does.

Lustre glazed refined red earthenware teapot, C. Watson. Mrs Potts, Disney Fandom.

Chip

The cute son of Mrs Potts, Chip has to be a gilt banded teacup. Like the teapot, it’s a bit common, but also is a timeless classic.

Gilt banded bone china cup, C. Watson. Chip, Disney Fandom.

Plumette/Fifi

Plumette, as she’s known in the 2017 live action remake, or Fifi, as she’s known in the original animation film, is the feather duster. She’s Lumiere’s girlfriend, and like him portrays an air of sophistication. This porcelain vase, with its ruffled handles, is reminiscent of Plumette’s feathers and like her, is sophisticated and classy.

Porcelain vase with painted floral decoration, C. Watson. Plumette, Disney Fandom.

Gaston

Gaston is an arrogant bully. He’s rich and handsome, but that doesn’t make up for being a horrible person. Look at the man on this bowl. He’s rich. But he’s also not a nice guy. Look at the horse, the horse knows his rider isn’t the good guy. The horse’s expression says it all.

whiteware bowl, decorated with the Field Sports pattern, C. Watson. Gaston, Disney Fandom.

Le Fou

Le Fou is Gaston’s sidekick. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s loyal to Gaston, even if he doesn’t always agree with him. I feel that the expression on this doll’s face really conveys a lot of what goes through Le Fou’s brain. Why is Gaston pursuing a woman who has very explicitly told him that she doesn’t like him? Why does Gaston steal my ideas? Why is he always hitting me? The face says it all.

Doll’s face, C. Watson. Le Fou, Disney Fandom.

Maurice

Belle’s father, Maurice is an inventor. And what better artefact to represent him than this Seasons patterned cup. While the cup is showing a man sharpening a scythe, rather than inventing something, I still feel like it’s very Maurice like.

Whiteware cup decorated with the Seasons pattern, C. Watson. Maurice, Disney Fandom.

The Bimbettes

Remember the girls who fawn over Gaston and are mean to Belle, apparently, they’re called the Bimbettes- Claudette, Laurette, and Paulette. They might be very minor characters, but if I’m dedicating a whole blog post to Beauty and the Beast we might as well include everyone. The girls painted on this cup really portray the snobbery of the Bimbettes. You can just imagine the girl on the left looking down her nose at Belle.

Porcelain cup with painted decoration, C. Watson. The Bimbettes, Disney Fandom.

The Wolves

If you thought the Bimbettes were a minor character, then we’re getting even more minor. The Wolves patrol the woods around the Beast’s castle, and attack both Maurice and Belle during the film. I feel like this jug really portrays the terror of those attacks, albeit it’s showing a dragonfly attacking ducklings. Why this exists as a pattern, I have absolutely no idea. But it’s amazing.

Whiteware jug decorated with the Frightened Ducklings pattern, C. Watson. The Wolves, Disney Fandom.

The Enchanted Rose

And while we’re doing minor characters, who could forget the enchanted rose that kickstarted the whole story.

Whiteware saucer, decorated with the Rose and Lily pattern, C. Watson. Enchanted Rose, Disney Fandom.

The Beast

Out of all the characters from the movie, I found the Beast the hardest to match with an artefact. While the Victorian’s decorated their transfer ware with patterns showing dragonflies attacking ducklings, they didn’t do man beasts, or at least not that I’ve found. So, I’ve decided on this clay pipe. The decorative antlers on the bowl and stem represent the Beast’s appearance, but the artefact overall is quite elegant and poised, just like the Prince that the Beast truly is.

Clay pipe with antler decoration, C. Watson. The Beast, Disney Fandom.

Belle

Our heroine, the Disney Princess for every little book loving girl out there. Also, arguably the most badass of all the original Disney Princesses (Moana definitely takes that title now). Remember that scene at the start of the movie where Belle is walking through the village, this cup is that scene. And then later on in the movie when she wears the yellow ballgown, that’s the doll below it.

Whiteware cup decorated with a blue transfer print featuring a woman waving, C. Watson. Belle, Disney Fandom.

Porcelain doll, C. Watson. Belle, Wikipedia.

Bonus Images

Some of the characters I found that there were multiple artefacts that could fit their personality. Here’s a compilation of artefacts that didn’t make the list, but that still work. See if you can guess which artefact represents which character.

Images: C. Watson

Clara Watson

 

 

 

The Sum of a Life

Today on the blog we’re taking a look at a pair of neighbours, Joseph Rowley and David Scott. The pair lived next to each other on the south side of St Asaph Street- with Rowley owning Lot 7 DP 51 and Scott owning Lot 8 DP 51.

Following the Kemp purchase in 1848, the land that would become Christchurch’s central city was subdivided into town sections and reserves, and sold off to European settlers. Town Reserve 4 was a four and a half acre section fronting onto Montreal Street, St Asaph Street, and Durham Street. The Town Reserve was sold in 1860 and passed hands a few times until it was purchased by Edward Louis Clogstown and Lancelot Walker in 1875, along with the neighbouring Town Reserve 5. Clogstown and Walker subdivided the town reserve into 40 residential lots in January 1875 and in February 1875 they advertised the 40 building sites for sale.

Town Reserves 4 and 5 are outlined in blue on the 1862 Fook’s map. What would become Lots 7 and 8 is outlined in red. Image: Fooks, 1862. 

Details from DP 51, showing Clogstown and Walker’s subdivision of Town Reserve 4 and 5 into 40 residential lots. Lots 7 and 8 are outlined in red. Image: LINZ, 1875c. DP 51, Canterbury. Landonline.

The sections advertised for sale. Image: Star 01/02/1875: 4. 

Joseph Rowley, a tin slate worker, purchased Lot 7 of the subdivision from Clogstown and Walker in 1875. Rowley, who was originally from Warwickshire, arrived in Canterbury with his wife and eight children on board the Mystery in 1859. Prior to the purchase of the St Asaph Street section, Rowley and his family were living in Montreal Street. Rowley announced in the local newspapers that he had accepted the tender of Mr Verrall for the construction of his house in St Asaph Street in February 1875 and three months later advertised his house and land on Montreal Street as being for sale, suggesting that the St Asaph Street house was completed by May 1875. The Rowley family lived at the St Asaph Street house for the remainder of the 19th century. While Joseph passed away in 1888, and his wife, Mary, in 1895, their daughters continued to live at the property and the house remained in the ownership of the Rowley family until the 1920s.

Rowley’s advertisement in the newspaper that he had accepted Mr Verrall’s tender to build his how on St Asaph Street. Image: Press 13/02/1875: 1

David Scott purchased Lot 8 of the subdivision from Clogstown and Walker in 1875. Scott, originally from Selkinkshire in Scotland, arrived in Canterbury on board the David G. Fleming in 1863. Scott was a builder and it is likely that he constructed a residence on the section himself. When his eldest daughter, Lilly Bell, married Donald Munro in July 1888, Scott’s residence was referred to as ‘Abbotsford House’. Similar to the Rowley’s, the Scott family lived at the house for the remainder of the 19th century. When David passed in 1899, the section passed to his wife (also called Lilly Bell), and his son, Richard Linton Scott, and remained in the ownership of the Scott family into the 1960s.

The announcement of Scott’s daughter’s marriage, in which their St Asaph Street house is referred to as Abbotsford House. Image: Lyttelton Times 13/17/1888: 4. 

The two houses shown on the 1877 Strouts Map. Rowley’s house in on the left and Scott’s on the right. Image: Strouts, 1877. 

From aerial photography, we know that the two houses were still standing in the latter half of the 1950s, but had been demolished by the early 1960s and replaced with a commercial building. This building, in turn, was demolished following earthquake damage, and replaced with a new commercial building. We monitored the earthworks for the construction of this new building, leading to our investigation into Rowley and Scott’s former sections.

A photograph from our monitoring. The contractors excavate the areas of the site that they need to for the new building foundations. We watch them dig and if they hit any archaeology, we have them stop and wait while we investigate it by hand. Image: J. Hearfield.

We found 15 archaeological features during our archaeological monitoring. Most of these were rubbish pits located near the rear of the properties, which is typical for 19th century Christchurch domestic sites. While municipal rubbish collection did exist, people continued to bury at least some of their household rubbish in pits dug in the backyards. The contents of these pits are able to tell us more about the lives of the people who deposited them.

Some of the rubbish pits we found at the site. Once they have been exposed like this by the digger, the archaeologist investigates them by hand. Image: A. Trendafilov.

A mid-excavation photo of one of the rubbish pits from the site. Image: A. Trendafilov.

Because the Rowley and Scott families both built the first houses on their respective sections, and lived at them into the 20th century, we can safely assume that any 19th century features found at the site were created and deposited by them. As an artefact specialist, domestic sites like these are some of my favourite archaeological site types. Quite often we have domestic sites that were rentals in the 19th century with a high turnover of occupants, meaning that while we might know who was living at the site in the 19th century, we are unable to associate the artefacts we find at the site with specific tenants. That’s not a problem with sites like these where there was only one occupant over the course of the 19th century. When we’re able to associate artefact assemblages with specific occupants then we can take a look at some of those more interesting questions, like what the artefacts say about the social and economic status of the people who deposited them. Now is the point in the blog where you might be expecting me to show you all the amazing things that we found that belonged to Rowley and Scott, after all, we usually choose to only share the interesting stuff on the blog. However, if I’m honest, the stuff we found at the site was kind of boring, and says more about the period that Rowley and Scott lived in than their personal choices.

Firstly, we didn’t find a lot at the sites. At Rowley’s site we found 133 artefacts, represented by 444 fragments, and at Scott’s site we found 109 artefacts, represented by 548 fragments, so pretty similar small assemblage sizes. Here are most of the ceramic artefacts found at the two sites. Rowley’s is shown on the left and Scott’s on the right. In terms of similarities, the Asiatic Pheasants, Rhine, and Willow patterns were found at both sites, as were sprigged and gilt banded tea ware vessels. These are decoration styles that we find across the city, and are very typical of the 1875-1900 period. However, like most of our sites, we found a range of different patterns suggesting that the two families were likely purchasing individual items that they liked, rather than focusing on maintaining sets (the teacup with the blue floral pattern from the Scott family assemblage is particularly nice). There are some interesting things in the Scott family assemblage. We found six penny ink bottles and an ink well. A search through the newspaper records show that school lessons were being advertised from the Scott’s house on St Asaph Street. A C. M’Farland is recorded as being the one offering the lessons. I haven’t quite been able to work out how he relates to the Scott family, but it seems likely that the ink bottles found at the site related to M’Farland’s school lessons at the property. We also found a miniature cup and jug, and a child’s plate in the Scott family assemblage.

The Scott’s weren’t the only ones to be offering lessons from their house. Next door, Miss Rowley, Joseph Rowley’s daughter, was offering piano, singing, drawing and painting lessons. Image: Lyttelton Times 17/09/1890: 8. 

Similar to the ceramic assemblages, the glass assemblages from Rowley and Scott’s sites are very typical of the 1875-1900 period. At both sites, alcohol bottles were most common, followed by pharmaceutical bottles and then condiment bottles. These bottles were types we often see on our archaeological sites, such as black beer, case gin, ring seal, hock wine, salad oil, castor oil, and rectangular bevelled pharmaceutical bottles, as well as pickle jars. As you can see from the photos, more complete bottles were found at Rowley’s site rather than Scott’s site. It may be that the Scotts were returning complete bottles back to retailers so that the bottles could be refilled and reused, and were only choosing to throw away bottles that broke, but it also may be that taphonomic processes have resulted in bottle breakages.

In terms of what else was found at the site, the Rowley’s assemblage was quite interesting as we found the soles from seven shoes in one of the rubbish pits. Most of these shoes were made using slightly older shoe making techniques, with the soles of the shoes attached using wooden pegs rather than nails, and at least two had been re-soled. This suggested that the Rowley family wore their shoes until they were completely worn out. That several shoes were found in the one feature perhaps suggests that most of the family got new shoes at one time, with the old shoes finally thrown away. Other finds from the Rowley site included writing slate, a doll’s arm, a safety pin, and a glass cruet bottle. We also found shoe fragments at the Scott’s site, however these hadn’t survived well and were very fragmented. We also found two bone toothbrushes, two porcelain Prosser buttons, and fragments from a basket weave moulded clay pipe. I like artefacts like these as they are such personal items and provide a real connection to the past.

In one sense, I find the two assemblages quite sad. Both the Scott and Rowley families lived at the site from 1875 into the 20th century, and yet all there is to show from their lives are some broken glass bottles and bits of ceramic plates. On other sites that we’ve excavated that have had people living at the property for a long period of time, we’ve found large assemblages with elaborate ceramic sets and unusual items. But that wasn’t the case here.

The small and fragmented assemblages may be a result of taphonomic processes and archaeological excavation strategies. The site was developed in the 20th century, and this may have wiped out some archaeological features from the site and disturbed others. It was also fossicked overnight by bottle diggers during our time at the site, and most of the material from two of the pits was stolen. Knowing bottle diggers, they only go for the complete items which may explain the fragmented condition of what was left in the two pits they dug out. Our excavation strategies also mean that some material was left in situ or not collected. We only excavate features that date to the 19th century, as the legislation we operate under only protects pre-1900 archaeology. We did find rubbish pits that dated to the 20th century at the site, but we didn’t excavate them. We also only excavate within the boundaries of what our client needs to excavate. We had some features that extended beyond the new building’s foundations, meaning that we only excavated the halves of these features that were within the extent of the new foundation, and left the rest in situ.

However, even if we only view what we collected as a sample of what was there, we still have to assume that the sample is relatively representative of the overall assemblages. Both the Rowley and Scott families were working class families, and I’d say that is definitely reflected in the artefacts from the site. The artefacts are all things that we find all the time in Christchurch, suggesting that both families were purchasing things that were cheap and readily available.

Something that is quite interesting is that there was no evidence that any of the rubbish pits represented ‘clean out’ events. We sometimes find large rubbish pits containing lots of complete artefacts where the material has obvious been thrown out intentionally because the occupants don’t want it anymore, as opposed to something being thrown away because it has broken. Sometimes, we’re able to associate these ‘clean out’ events with members of a younger generation throwing out items belonging to the older generation after the older generation has passed away. Both Joseph and Mary Rowley, and David and Lilly Bell Scott passed away at their St Asaph Street properties. With the exception of Lilly Bell, these deaths all occurred in the 19th century. Yet there is no evidence that the children of the two couples that continued to live at the site threw away their parents belongings. This may have been an economic decision as they may not have had the means to buy all new dinner sets, but could also have been for sentimental reasons.

The artefacts we found from the two houses on St Asaph Street represent the sum of Rowley and Scott’s lives. On one hand, some broken black beer bottles and Asiatic Pheasants patterned plates might not say much about those lives. But on the other hand, they speak to what life was like as a working class family living in 19th century Christchurch.

Clara Watson, Lydia Mearns