The Christchurch Public Library

When you take a walk or drive around a city, certain buildings often stand out as recognisable landmarks. Sometimes it’s because of their distinctive architecture, their height or size, or their location, and sometimes it is because of nostalgic memories you associated with it. As a result of the 2010-2011 Canterbury earthquakes, Christchurch lost a number of its recognisable building landmarks around the city. While many of these buildings were readily identifiable to Cantabrians who frequented the city prior to the quakes, not all of us know the story of how they came to be. Today on the blog we are outlining the process by which one of the Christchurch’s most recognisable former public buildings – the Christchurch Public Library – came to be constructed during the 19th century and early 20th centuries.

Photograph looking west towards the former Christchurch City Library building located on the corner of Hereford Street and Cambridge Terrace. Image: Christchurch City Libraries, 2023.

When the city of Christchurch was surveyed into town sections and reserves by the Canterbury Association’s surveyor, Edward Jollie, in 1850, the land that would later become the site of the Public Library was surveyed as Town Sections 405 and 406.

Detail from Jollie’s 1850 map of Christchurch showing future Public Library property surveyed as Town Sections 405 and 406. Image: Jollie, 1850.

Charles Thomas Maunsell, one of the original subscribers of the Canterbury Association, owned Town Sections 405 and 406 between 1851 and 1863 but did not develop the sections during his ownership. Fooks’ 1862 map of Christchurch shows no buildings present on Town Sections 405 or 406.

Detail from Fooks’ 1862 map of Christchurch showing no buildings present within Town Sections 405 and 406. Image: Fooks, 1862.

The Christchurch Mechanics’ Institute purchased Town Sections 405 and 406 in July 1863. Mechanics’ Institutes were educational organisations established for the purpose of disseminating knowledge on a wide variety of topics through lectures and libraries. The Christchurch Mechanics’ Institute had been established in 1859. They initially utilised premises within the Town Hall, but they always intended to obtain premises of their own (Lyttelton Times, 21/5/1859: 4, 1/6/1859: 4, 15/6/1859: 4, 9/11/1859: 3). When the Provincial Council granted the Mechanics’ Institute £250 in 1862, they were able to purchase Town Sections 405 and 406 for the sum of £262 10s (Lyttelton Times, 7/12/1861: 4, 9/7/1862: 4).

Having secured a building site, the Mechanics’ Institute utilised the common practice of holding an architectural competition to find a suitable design for a building. From December 1862 to January 1863, they advertised for competitive designs for a building to be erected on their recently acquired site, with £20 to be the prize for the winning entry and £10 for second place (Press, 13/12/1862: 10). The competition was won by Christchurch architect, Samuel Charles Farr, whose offices were located in Lichfield Street (Lyttelton Times, 5/8/1863: 3). Farr had spent the previous twelve years in Akaroa, before coming to Christchurch in 1862. The Mechanics’ Institute is believed to be the first building Farr designed when he moved to Christchurch.

Farr advertised for tenders to construct the Mechanics’ Institute building according to his designs in February 1863 (Press, 14/2/1863: 7). The tender for the construction of the building was won by local builders, Augustus Balcke and Daniel Brouard, for the sum of £1169 (Lyttelton Times, 5/8/1863: 3). Balcke and Brouard worked on a number of prominent construction jobs in Christchurch during the 1860s, including Matson and Torlesses stone buildings in Cathedral Square, Kiver’s stone buildings in Cashel Street, and Church of St John the Baptist in Latimer Square (Lyttelton Times, 12/11/1864: 11, 13/4/1865: 5, 14/7/1865: 7).

At the fourth annual meeting of the Mechanics’ Institute in early August 1863, it was reported that the new building was rapidly advanced toward completion, with the hope that by 1st of September it would be ready for occupation (Lyttelton Times, 5/8/1863: 3). By the following month the building was completed, and the Mechanics’ Institute held their first meeting in their new building to consider a general statement of the affairs of the Institute (Lyttelton Times, 9/9/1863: 3). The requisite books and papers were then placed on the shelves in the new premises, and finally, in October 1863, the Mechanics’ Institute’s new reading room was opened to its various members (Lyttelton Times, 31/10/1863: 5). A photograph taken from late 1863 shows the Mechanics’ Institute building present on Town Section 406 fronting on Hereford Street. The building was somewhat plain in design, resembling a dwelling house more than a public institution, but the link dormer and rounded hood windows add a touch of elegance to the otherwise plain building.

Photograph looking north to the corner of Cambridge Terrace and Hereford Street in c.1863, showing the Hereford Street frontage of the original Mechanics’ Institute building on Town Section 406. Image:Hocken Collections, c.1863.

The ‘Christchurch Mechanics’ Institute’ changed their name to the ‘Christchurch Literary Institute’ in January 1868 (Press, 9/1/1868: 2). Dartnell’s 1868 map of Christchurch shows the ‘L’ shaped footprint of the newly renamed Literary Institute’s building present on Town Section 406. A photograph taken some time after January 1868, shows a sign displaying the new ‘Literary Institute’ name on the side of the 1863 building.

Detail from Dartnell’s 1868 map of Christchurch showing the footprint of the Literary Institute building present on Town Sections 405 and 406. Image: Dartnell, 1868.

Photograph looking north to the corner of Cambridge Terrace and Hereford Street after 1868, showing a sign baring the building’s new name ‘Literary Institute’. Image: Wilson, 1982.

The Canterbury Provincial Council were seriously discussing the need to establish a free public library in Christchurch in 1873 (Lyttelton Times, 3/5/1873: 3). The public were quick to support the idea, and by May of that year private promotors had already raised more than £600 in subscriptions for the purchase of books for the proposed project. The Literary Institute were also in favour of the proposal, and they entered into negotiations with the Council to hand over ownership of the Literary Institute building and premises for the purpose (Press, 29/5/1873: 2). The Council placed the sum of £5,000 in their budget and drafted the Canterbury Public Library Act, 1873 for the purpose of purchasing the Literary Institute’s premises (Press, 14/11/1873: 2). By the end of 1873, the Council had successfully negotiated the purchase of Town Sections 405 and 406 and the associated literary buildings (Lyttelton Times, 24/12/1873: 3). The Canterbury Provincial Council placed the management of the newly acquired Public Library premises under the authority of the newly established Canterbury College Board of Governors at the beginning of 1874. The Canterbury College Board of Governors would continue to manage the public library premises and facilities for the next seventy years.

The reading room in the new Public Library was opened to the public in January 1874 (Press, 13/1/1874: 2). The library’s lending services took a further month to prepare before they were ready for the public, as the Board of Governors needed to take stock of and catalogue their new inventory (Press, 30/1/1874: 2). Finally, on 7th February 1874, the Board of Governors published their rules for lending books and the full functionality of the Public Library was made available to the public.

The Canterbury Public Library’s rules first printed in the Press in February 1874.

It was not long after the Board of Governors took over management of the Public Library in January 1874, that they began discussing the need to provide additional facilities on the premises (Press, 30/1/1874: 2). The Board requested four well-known local architects (William Armson, Samuel Farr, Benjamin Mountfort and Frederick Strouts) to submit designs for a new building in April 1874, with the sum of £15 to be paid to each of the architects for the designs they furnished (Lyttelton Times, 1/5/1874: 3). The Board accepted William Armson’s design on the condition that a few modifications were made in July 1874 (Press, 10/7/1874: 2). Armson’s appointment was not without its controversy. Firstly, because he had handed in his initial design after the specified deadline, and secondly, because it was over a year before the Board and architect could finalise the design and associated building costs (Lyttelton Times, 19/7/1875: 3, 15/9/1875: 2; Press, 10/7/1874: 2). But, in September 1875, the Board finally approved Armson’s design for a simple brick and stone building that was to be connected to the extant 1863 library building by a wooden corridor. A detailed description of the building was provided in the Star later that month:

 

The new building is to be erected thirty-four feet North of the present one, the two being connected by a covered corridor built of wood and 7ft 6in wide. In the centre of the corridor and fronting on Cambridge Terrace, there will be an ornamental porch to serve as the entrance to both the new and old buildings. The visitor, on entering the porch, by turning to the left, will gain admission to the old building through the present doorway, or by turning to the right will gain admission to the new building. The latter, it may be said, is to be 60ft x 40ft in the clear, with a space of 20 ft from floor to ceiling. The front elevation looks on to Cambridge Terrace, and has a triple light window in the centre, with a single one on each side. The windows have stone sills, arches, and mullions, the latter having carved capitals and bases of the same material. These with a stone cornice, on which the words “Public Library” are to be carved, will form a pleasant contrast with the brickwork of the walls (Star, 16/9/1875: 2).

Architectural plan showing the proposed extension to the Public Library premises in 1875. Image: Armson, 1875.

Architectural plan showing the proposed extension to the Public Library premises (right) in relation to the existing 1863 building (left). Image:Armson, 1875.

Tenders were called for the construction of the new Public Library building designed by Armson in September 1875, and the tender of Joseph Wood for just under £4000 was accepted by the following month (Press, 17/9/1875: 4). Wood lost no time in making a start on the construction of the building, and by June 1876 it was noted to be ‘fast approaching a state of completion’ (Lyttelton Times, 14/6/1876: 2). In December 1876 that the Board finally took possession of the premises and began moving the designated books and periodicals from the old library premises into the new building Press, 15/12/1876: 2).

The new Public Library premises was opened to the public on 28th December 1876 (Press, 28/12/1876: 2). Strouts’ 1877 map of Christchurch shows the footprint of the original 1863 portion of the library and the 1876 extension present on the property. A photograph said to have been taken in 1897 (but likely taken prior to 1893) shows the 1863 timber portion of the library and the 1876 brick extension present on the property at this time, connected by the timber corridor and porch fronting Cambridge Terrace. Armson’s design was in the Venetian Gothic style, with red brick walls set with bands of contrasting glazed brick and decorative roundels. The French pavilion roof was capped by a ventilator turret and wrought-iron cresting. Although the red brick was somewhat austere in its appearance the decorative roundels, the pointed sash windows with stripped voussoirs, and the detailed turret, gave the building an inviting and unique appearance which would be easily recognised by visitors for generations to come.

Detail from Strouts’ 1877 map of Christchurch showing the footprint of the two phases of the Public Library building (indicated with dashed lines) present on Town Sections 405 and 406. The third building on the property is the Librarian’s House. Image:Strouts, 1877.

Photograph looking northwest to the corner of Cambridge Terrace and Hereford Street in c.1897, showing the original 1863 Literary Institute building fronting Hereford Street and the 1876 brick addition on the right. Image:Christchurch City Libraries, 1897.

The building premises constructed in 1863 and 1876 continued to provide ample space for housing the Public Library until the early 1890s, by which time the accommodation was beginning to be inadequate for the growing collection of books (Lyttelton Times, 11/7/1893: 2; Star, 9/12/1893: 6). In 1892 alone the library reported adding over 1087 books to their collection (Lyttelton Times, 30/1/1893: 4). The need for additional space was apparent, and the Board of Governors approved a design by the architectural firm of Collins and Harman for an additional building to be added to the premises in March 1893 (Lyttelton Times, 28/3/1893: 2). Collins and Harman, being the architects for the new addition, appears to have been an organic choice for the Board, as the firm had originally been started by the Boards’ former architect of choice, William Armson, who had employed John James Collins in 1871. Following Armson’s death in 1883, Collins took over the firm and brought Richard Harman into partnership in 1885. Collins and Harman continued to be the Board of Governors choice of architectural firm for several decades into the 20th century (University of Canterbury, 2023). Collins and Harman designed a rectangular brick building with concrete foundation that connected into the southwest corner of Armson’s 1876 building. The building was in the Neo-Gothic style, which reiterated some of the materials and motifs of Armson’s 1876 building.

Architectural plan showing the addition of a reference library in the southwest corner of the library complex in 1893. Image:Collins and Harman, 1893.

Tenders were called for the construction of Collins and Harman’s additional wing in April 1893, and a tender for £684 was accepted the following month (Lyttelton Times, 14/4/1893: 8, 30/5/1893: 2). The new building was to function as the library’s ‘Reference Library’. Formerly, Armson’s 1876 building had functioned as both the library’s ‘Reference Library’ and its ‘Circulating Library’, with the building being divided in the middle to create two separate areas. The addition of a separate building to house the library’s reference collection, meant that Armson’s 1876 building could be altered to allow for the circulating collection to utilise the full space of the older building with the room divider removed and the building redecorated (Lyttelton Times, 11/7/1893: 2). The additional building was completed in December 1893, at which time a description of the building was provided in the Star:

 

The reference library […] is newly erected. It is 49ft x 31ft, the walls 25ft high, with an open roof with varnished beams and timbers and lit by six large skylights. It has 1500ft of shelving, with accommodation for about 10,000 volumes. These shelves are in cases about 8ft high, so made that at some future time a gallery may be built round the room. They are arranged in the alcove system, and the necessity for the old objectionable, noisy ladder-steps exists no more. The room is warmed by an extension of the hot air pipe system by which the other room is heated. Gas is laid on and fourteen burners give ample light during the evening. In the centre of the room large tables are arranged, on which magazines, art journals, musical periodicals, &c, are laid. It will be seen that in both rooms there is ample space for the number of books which are being constantly added to the libraries (Star, 9/12/1893: 6).

 

As the new building was located at the rear of the two early buildings, very few contemporary photographs could be found showing the 1893 addition. However, a photograph taken from the Hereford Street bridge in c.1895 shows the corner of the new brick building peeking out from behind the 1863 timber building and connecting into the 1876 building. The three connected buildings which made up the Public Library premises (constructed in 1863, 1876, and 1893 respectively) continued to be utilised for the remainder of the 19th century.

Photograph looking northwest to the corner of Cambridge Terrace and Hereford Street in c.1895, showing a small portion of the brick addition constructed at the rear of the Public Library premises in 1893 (red arrow). Image: Hocken Collections, c.1895.

By the turn of the 20th century, the Board of Governors were already discussing the need to make considerable additions and alterations to the Public Library premises (Press, 14/6/1900: 4, 25/9/1900: 2). Collins and Harman were again called upon to design additional building premises for the library. They designed a new reading room along with additional librarian’s office and rooms which were to replace the older 1863 portion of the extant buildings as well as the wooden corridor and porch that had been constructed to connect the older building to the 1876 Armson building. It is interesting to note that the Collins and Harman’s plan included the option to extend the building along the full Hereford Street frontage at a later date.

Architectural plan showing the proposed new Reading Room in the southeast corner of the library complex in 1901. Image:Collins and Harman, 1901.

Tenders were called for the construction of the new building designed by Collins and Harman in April 1901, and the tender of Andrew Swanston for £4307 was accepted the following month (Lyttelton Times, 26/3/1902: 3; Press, 23/4/1901: 2). As the new building was to replace the old 1863 building and adjoining porch, the wooden buildings and their stone foundations were sold at auction in June 1901 and they realised the sum of £80 3s 5d (Lyttelton Times, 14/6/1901: 8; Press, 28/5/1901: 2). Although the old building had been simple in its design and had by no means been considered an imposing structure, it had stood on the property for thirty-eight years (a long time in a young colonial town) and was already considered by many of the public as an “old land-mark” (Lyttelton Times, 18/6/1901: 3). However, the public do not appear to have been particularly upset about the loss of the old building (especially after significant rot was found during its demolition) and instead appear to have been eagerly anticipating the new structure (Star, 25/6/1901: 3). The wooden buildings were required to be removed from the premises by the 1st July 1901, by which time the library was renting a room across the road to act as a reading room until the new building was completed (Lyttelton Times, 26/3/1902: 3).

Once the old buildings were removed, Swanston quickly got underway with the construction of the new building and by March 1902 the Board of Governors were indicating the building was approaching completion (Lyttelton Times, 26/3/1902: 3). The building was officially opened on 1st May 1902 (Star, 2/5/1902: 1). A photograph taken in 1904, shows the new brick building standing on the corner of Hereford Street and Cambridge Terrace. Part of the 1876 Armson building is visible on the right-had-side of the photo, and part of the 1893 building on the left-hand-side. The new building was designed in the Neo-Gothic style and reiterated some of the materials and motifs of Armson’s earlier 1876 building. Unlike the old wooden building, the new building was visually striking and ornate. The contrast of the red brick and white Oamaru stone gave the building a bright and distinctive pattern, and the conical pinnacles and pyramidal turrets added an imposing height. The new Public Library was a building Cantabrians could be proud of, and it appears that the premises were well patronised with the Christchurch Library estimated to have had about 800 more subscribers than any other similar institution in the country (Lyttelton Times, 14/4/1902: 3).

Photograph looking northwest to the corner of Cambridge Terrace and Hereford Street in 1904, showing the newly constructed reading room building at the Public Library premises. Image:Kinnear, 1904.

When Collins and Harman had designed the new reading room building in 1901, they had included on their architectural plans the option to extend the new building into the southwest corner of the property along the Hereford Street frontage. By 1922 the Board of Governors were ready to construct a new building in this location, and called upon Collins and Harman to design it (Press, 27/6/1922: 11, 26/9/1922: 4, 20/10/1922: 10, 28/11/1922: 5). The plans they produced in January 1923 allowed for the construction of a new juvenile library department and an extension of the reference library wing.

Architectural plan showing the proposed new children’s library and reference library extension in the southwest corner of the library complex in 1923. Image: Collins and Harman, 1923.

Tenders were called for the construction of the new children wing of the library in February 1923, and the tender of Mr H. Hinkey was accepted by the following October (Press, 24/2/1923: 18, 18/10/1923: 4). Hinkey made good progress with the construction of the building, and by March 1924 it was reported that the roof was being added to the new building and the floors constructed (Press, 20/3/1924: 4). The building was far enough advanced by October for the children’s books and the reference collection to begin their migration into the new premises (Press, 1/10/1924: 5, 29/10/1924: 12). The building was complete by November 1924, at which time a description of the premises was provided in the Press:

 

The new juvenile library, which is divided from the old portion of the building by means of a leadlight screen, is 42ft by 32ft. Directly above it is a lecture hall of the same size. At the rear of these rooms a reference library extends 31ft on either floor […] Like the old, the new portion has been erected of brick, with Oamaru stone facings, a bluestone base, and slate roof (Press, 25/11/1924: 8).

 

The new children’s wing and reference Library was officially opened on 3rd December 1924 (Star, 4/12/1924: 7). In contrast to their usual neo-Gothic architectural design, Collins and Harman had instead designed what would become known as an “interwar commercial classical building” with the only hint of Gothic being the use of the vestigial flattened Tudor arch. However, the use of the same brick and limestone palate as the 1901 building ensured a continuity with the older sections of the premises.

Photograph looking north, showing the Hereford Street frontage of the 1924 children’s wing of the Public Library. Image:Cafe Cecil, 2005.

Aerial imagery from 1973 shows the building complex present on the premises at this time, with the four phases of construction dating from 1876 to 1924. These buildings continued to function as Christchurch’s Public Library until the early 1980s, by which time the requirements of the library had exhausted the available space within the old buildings (Press, 2/1/1981: 10). When the decision was made to construct new buildings in Gloucester Street, there were many in Christchurch who were outraged at the thought of the old buildings being demolished and they began campaigning to have the landmark buildings preserved (Press, 18/7/1980: 10, 25/7/1980: 12). When the City Council opened new library facilities in Gloucester Street in 1982, the library facilities were removed from the Cambridge Terrace premises.

Aerial imagery from 1973, showing the Public Library premises on the corner of Cambridge Terrace and Hereford Street. The construction dates of the extant phases of the building complex are indicated in red. Image: LINZ, 1973.

Following the removal of the library facilities from the premises, the construction firm Paynter and Hamilton Ltd purchased Town Sections 405 and 406 in 1982 and made alterations to the former library buildings to allow for the use of the buildings as separate offices. The actions of Paynter and Hamilton were praised by public who were keen to have the buildings preserved and the “site’s interesting links with the literary and architectural tastes – and politics – of colonial Christchurch maintained” (Press, 2/1/1981: 10, 5/3/1981: 30, 1/8/1981: 16). The architectural and historical value of the buildings was also recognised by Heritage New Zealand and the Christchurch District Council who both recorded the buildings as sites of significance. Although no longer used as public library premises, the buildings continued to be a landmark for those in the city, not only for their distinctive architectural design but also for the nostalgic reminiscences which the buildings evoked – with one visitor to the buildings noting they were “haunted by the ghosts of thousands of overdue library books” (Press, 8/12/1982: 38).

The buildings continued to be utilised as offices until they were irrevocably damaged during the 2010/2011 Canterbury earthquakes. After standing on the site for 135 years, the former Christchurch Public Library buildings were required to be removed and Christchurch lost one of its recognisable landmarks. Prior to their demolition the damaged buildings were recorded by Underground Overground Archaeology and hopefully the information gained about the old historic buildings during this process will be the topic of a future blog.

Photograph looking northwest towards the former Public Library buildings in March 2011, showing some of the damage sustained during the 2010/2011 Canterbury earthquakes. Image: Kenney, 2011.

The former Public Library buildings on the corner of Hereford Street and Cambridge Terrace were a recognisable landmark within Christchurch for 148 years. The distinctive red and white patterns and the ornate decoration of the blended design styles made the buildings stand out from their surroundings. But these distinctive buildings did not just appear overnight, they were constructed over time to meet the literary needs of the colonial township. They made an important contribution to the identity and sense of place and history for those Cantabrians who frequented the premises, while the blended architectural designs show the changes in tastes and available funding for public institutions during the 19th and early 20th centuries. Although the demolition of the buildings after the 2010-2011 earthquakes resulted in the loss of one of the city’s landmarks, the currently empty site offers an opportunity to develop new and distinctive buildings which may become future landmarks for the city, and we look forward to seeing what comes next.

Lydia Mearns

References

Wilson, P. R., 1982. The architecture of Samuel Charles Farr, 1827-1918. [Thesis] University of Canterbury: Master of Arts in Art History.

 

Hats: Curiouser and Curiouser

Hats are one of those clothing items that have mostly fallen out of modern fashion; we use them for warmth and keeping the sun out of our eyes, or for special occasions, but not much in between. Historically, hats were a required part of dress, but they fell out of fashion very quickly in the second half of the 20th century (Hughes, 2017: 9). It’s probably a surprise for most of us to learn that, for a now relegated clothing item, hats and hat making formed a substantial part of the economic, social, and moral fabric of the colonial world. A note on terminology before we disappear down the rabbit-hole of hats: hat makers created hats of felt, straw and eventually silk. This trade employed men, women, and children, who made both men’s and women’s hats. Millinery emerged as a distinct trade from the end of the 18th century, namely trimming and decorating existing hat blanks, although millinery manuals existed for the construction of hats from 1890-1920 (Bates, 2000). Millinery was predominantly staffed and patronised by women, and only created women’s hats (Hughes, 2017: 27). In New Zealand, 19th century dressmakers often completed millinery projects due to an insufficient market to support operating solely as a milliner (Hunter, 2011).

Hat making formed a significant part of England’s import and export trade from the 16th century onwards, to the extent of laws limiting the re-export of beaver skins and hat manufacture in the North American colonies being introduced in the 18th century following pressure from numerous English felt-makers (Nevell, 2007: 4-6). The industry employed both skilled and unskilled workers and remained a largely manual process even following industrialisation. The working conditions of both hat making and millinery were abysmal, even by 19th century standards, with long hours, high risk of fire in cramped workshops, and exposure to chemicals like mercury and sulfuric acid. Mercury poisoning is where we get the term ‘mad as a hatter’ from, as hat markers used mercury salts to break down the oil in beaver fur and breathed in mercury fumes from the furs while they dried (Hughes, 2017: 19).

The hat making and millinery industries also had substantial environmental impacts, namely in the use of beaver fur and bird feathers. Beavers went extinct in Europe in the 1600s, partially as a result of the hat trade, and fur traders turned to North America and Canada to meet supply demands (Hughes, 2017: 15

An example of an exceptionally furry beaver hat was worn by Joe Cannon upon his retirement from Congress circa 1922. Image: Library of Congress.

Bird feathers, wings and even whole birds were used in millinery, particularly towards the late 19th century as hats became larger and more extravagantly decorated (Regnault, 2021: 266). Millinery was held responsible for the extinction of species like the American passenger pigeon, and several pieces of legislation were introduced to curb the use and sale of feathers and skins of native bird species in America as a result (Cramer-Reichelderfer, 2019: 9; Regnault, 2021: 275).

A model wearing “chanticleer” hat, circa 1912. A chanticleer is another name for a rooster. The more you know and can avoid including in your hat decoration. Image: Library of Congress.

Gaby Deslys, an American singer, wearing an extravagantly feathered hat circa 1913. Image: Library of Congress.

An estimated 20,000 tonnes of plumage was shipped to England each year between 1870 and 1920 to be sold for use in millinery and clothing production, including from New Zealand. One London dealer advised an enquirer in 1880 that he had ‘something like 385’ kākāpo and ‘upwards of 90’ little spotted kiwi skins in stock and would be in the market for additional species of kiwi skins if any came available (Regnault, 2021: 264-5). Hector Liardet, a Wellington based ‘feather furrier’, sold a hat made of speckled shag plumage to Baroness Rothschild at the Paris Exhibition in 1890 (Hunter, 2011). Legislative protection for native bird species in New Zealand was slow to develop compared to other areas of the world, with full protection for native species only extended under the Animals Protection Amendment Act in 1910 (Regnault, 2021: 275).

A comic satirising the use of feathers in 19th century millinery with the caption ‘The cruelties of fashion, “fine feathers make fine birds”’. Image: John Hyde, 1883. Sourced from: Library of Congress.

While hats served a functional purpose, i.e. to protect one’s head from sun, hats were also a social and moral requirement, and often had implications for the wearer’s class and place in society. For example, wearing a top hat might indicate wealth and rank, but choosing a top hat that was too shiny, wrongly angled or worn could imply “duplicity, drunkenness or destitution” (Hughes, 2020). Churches, hotels, theatres, weddings, mourning periods, horse races and many other locations and events all required hats or head coverings of some variety for both sexes. Requirements for where and when hats may be worn, and where they must be removed, took up entire sections of society etiquette manuals, and transgressions of these rules were remarked upon in newspapers (Hughes 2016; 2020). For example, hats should be worn to the theatre by both men and women but should be taken off once seated ‘in consideration for those who sit behind’ (Wells, 1891: 338; Hughes, 2020).

Spectators at Riccarton Race Course, Christchurch circa 1905. The Press (Newspaper): Negatives. Ref: 1/1-008259-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/23220317. 

A substantial complaint was made by a Wellington reporter in 1907 regarding the size of hats worn to the cricket, and the practice of wearing the hats so “the crown of the hat is perched as far back as the law of gravity will permit” which apparently defeated the hat’s purpose in keeping the sun off the wearer’s face (Dominion 5/12/1907: 3). The same report has equal disdain for women who “look as though they were endeavouring to keep their hats on by their eyebrows”. There is an apparent middle ground for hat-wearing that the frequenters of this cricket match had missed entirely. I would also complain if I had to sit behind either of these women pictured below at the cricket.

A substantial hat worn by an unknown woman circa 1905-1926. Maclay, Adam Henry Pearson, 1873-1955 :Negatives. Ref: 1/2-184033-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand./records/30645320.

Another substantial hat worn by an unknown woman circa 1905-1926. Maclay, Adam Henry Pearson, 1873-1955: Negatives. Ref: 1/2-185754-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand./records/30119197

Outside of high society, hats were also a source of humour. There’s a rather lovely pencil sketch of an early surveyor around Moeraki lamenting his now squashed wide brimmed hat, which someone had sat on.

Sketch of a great hat tragedy from surveyor Walter Mantell, 1848. Mantell, Walter Baldock Durrant 1820-1895 :[Sketchbook, no. 3] 1848-1849. Ref: E-334-089. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand./records/23225090

The hats we encounter as part of the archaeological record in Christchurch are a far cry from those written about in high society pages or adorned with extinction levels of bird plumage. Most of the hats we find are simple, wide brimmed, woollen felt hats in various states of disrepair, like these ones below:

A mostly complete woollen felt hat that would have once had a hat band and possibly ribbon, or other trim stitched to the brim. Image: C. Watson.

A slightly plainer woollen felt hat with a possible hat band and not stitching or trim on the brim. Image: C. Watson.

A woollen felt hat with quite a bit of metal rusted to the surface. Some stitching remains around the brim, unclear as to whether there was a hat band due to the amount of metal rusted on there. Image: C. Watson.

And some further hats in worse states of repair:

Two woollen felt hats in various states of disrepair. note the double line of felt stitching around the brim. Image: C. Watson.

The problem with the archaeological record is that we mostly see items that people have discarded, and for clothing, that is mostly items that are too worn to be used any longer. Hats like those above are likely men’s hats based on the size, fabric, and what style we can make out after they’ve been flattened in the ground for 150 years or so. There are a significant range of hat styles shown in 19th and early 20th century photography in New Zealand, used both for working and for more formal occasions as shown by the images below.

Makohine viaduct workers wearing a variety of hats, between 1898-1902. If you look carefully one of the men in the front row has lost his serious photo expression when the dog jumped into the frame, or he had to sneeze. Child, Edward George, 1860-1949. Ref: 1/2-057719-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/22895851

A group of farm workers wearing a range of hats at the Mendip Hills sheep farm. Godber, Albert Percy, 1875-1949. Ref: APG-0469-1/2-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/22822271.

Four men sitting on top of a gate, likely wearing their Sunday best. Gant, Robert, 1854?-1936 :Photograph albums. Ref: PA1-q-962-32-1. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand./records/22886745

This produces an interesting question for us archaeologists, why are we only seeing men’s wide brimmed, wool felt hats in 19th century Christchurch archaeological samples? We know that men and women wore hats, and they wore a variety of styles to a number of different places as required in 19th century society, so why aren’t we finding fancy hats as well as simple ones? Straw, or silk hats rather than just wool? Why just men’s hats as far as we can tell?

There are several possible answers to the above questions. Firstly, a survival bias: we find things that people throw away because they’re too worn or damaged to be used anymore. Plain, everyday, work hats are more likely to be used until they can’t be anymore, and then discarded. Hats worn for special occasions or for church were carefully kept to avoid damage, as these hats were a little more expensive and people couldn’t afford to replace them as often. Women’s hats tended to be kept and re-trimmed or re-decorated to keep up with current fashions, and mostly only wealthy women could afford to buy and replace hats to keep up with changes in style. These hats were also unlikely to be thrown away, and were more likely passed on to servants, charities, or to the second-hand clothing market. The nicest examples of hats are kept and end up in museums and private collections.

We also have a taphonomic bias: wool is the most commonly recorded fabric in textile deposits in 19th century Christchurch. This may be due to a higher amount of wool being worn and deposited, but potentially also because the ground is slightly too acidic or alkaline for non-woollen fabric to survive as well as wool. As far as I can tell, our office hasn’t recorded any examples of hats of other fabrics like cotton, linen, straw or silk.

While most of our hats are recovered from domestic rubbish pits, we do have a neat example of a commercial deposit of hats from the Justice Precinct project. Right at the base of the gully that was found on the site were 29 hats, including nine nested hats, some in the process of being blocked, and some completed. These nine hats all had a gilt maker’s mark on the inside, which had transferred partially or completely to the surface of the hat underneath. The mark appears to have read BOURNE / CANADIAN / TRADE MARK around the symbol of a seated lion. Unfortunately, this could not be traced to a specific style or milliner. These hats were accompanied by a number of cotton reels and other fabric fragments, all of which showed signs of burning. This feature was interpreted as a mass deposition following a fire in a nearby dressmakers or tailors’ shop, who also engaged in hat-making and/or millinery (Williams, Garland and Greary Nichols, 2017).

One of the nested hats from the Justice Precinct excavation with the gold maker’s mark from the hat above adhered to the top of the hat. Image: J. Garland.

Hats have a surprisingly varied history, and a curious representation in the archaeological record within Christchurch. We generally seem to find only men’s woollen felt hats in archaeological deposits, even though we can see from the images included above that many more styles of hats were worn in and around Christchurch and New Zealand in the 19th and 20th centuries. This is odd, since hats were a social requirement up until the mid-20th century, and where and how they were worn was significant enough to earn comment in public newspapers. It is also truly saddening to think about the numbers of birds that are now extinct or endangered due, in part, to the millinery industry, especially since hats are no longer a required part of fashion today. Even if our selection of woollen felt hats doesn’t meet with your sartorial approval, the social, economic, and environmental impacts of the 19th century and early 20th century hat trade are interesting to learn about, given how infrequently we consider hats today. On the plus side, you’d have to be wearing a pretty extravagant hat to get written up in the paper in this day and age.

Neda Bawden

References

Bates, C. 2000. Women’s Hats and the Millinery Trade, 1840-1940: An Annotated Bibliography. Dress 27(1): 49-58.

Cramer-Reichelderfer, A. L. 2019. Fall of the American Dressmaker 1880-1920. Unpublished Masters Thesis. Write State University.

Hughes, C. 2017. Hats. London, New York: Bloomsbury Publishing.

Hughes, C. 2016. Hats On, Hats Off. Cultural Studies Review 22(1): 118-43.

Hughes, C. 2020. Review of Stutesman, D. 2019. Hat: Origins, Language, Style. London: Reaktion Books. Fashion Theory 24(7): 1043-1047.

Hunter, K. 2011. A Bird in the Hand: Hunting, Fashion and Colonial Culture. Journal of New Zealand Studies 12: 91-105.

Nevell, M, D. 2007. The rise and fall of the felt hatting industry. In Denton and the Archaeology of the Felt Hatting Industry, The Archaeology of Tameside 7. Tameside: Tameside MBC: 1-25.

Regnault, C. 2021. Dressed: fashionable dress in Aotearoa New Zealand 1840-1910. Wellington: Te Papa Press.

Wells, R. 1891. Manners, Culture and Dress of the Best American Society. Springfield: King, Richardson & Co.

Williams, H., Garland, J., and Greary Nichol, R. 2017. Christchurch Justice and Emergency Services Precinct Archaeological Report Vol 1-3. Unpublished report for the Ministry of Justice.