Hats: Curiouser and Curiouser

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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.

A Disturbing Discovery

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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.

 

Messages from the bottles

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Today’s blog is the last in our series on the St Asaph Street aerated water factory site (the first and second blogs in the series are available here and here). It comes as no surprise that we found a large amount of bottle glass at our aerated water factory site, along with plenty of other artefacts of course. In total we recovered 3653 fragments (NISP), which represented a minimum of 1206 artefacts (MNI/MNE), half of which were glass. Clara waded through this large assemblage and worked her usual magic to make some very cool interpretations. In this blog we will look at our commercial features and focus on what we can interpret from all that bottle glass. But first, let’s start off by looking at some attractive archaeology from the site.

Some good-looking rubbish pits!

Look at those layers! Anyone else craving tiramisu?

Soggy but still good.

A very cute pit with some complete black beer bottles at the base.

This pit had a curvaceous base. A good reminder that pits come in all shapes and sizes.

Look at all that bottle glass!

Two of our pits, which contained artefacts that were clearly connected with the commercial activities of the aerated water factory, contained artefacts that were manufactured in the 1860s or earlier, indicating these pits related to the earliest phase of the aerated water factory. Three pits were identified as relating to the operation of the soda water factory from the 1870s up to 1884, meaning they related to the operations of J. Milsom, R. and J. Milsom, J. Milsom and Co., and H. J. Milsom. Surprisingly, none of the pits related to the later phase of the aerated water factory when it was under the operation of Henry Mace. Much to my disappointment, we didn’t find even one bottle with Mace’s iconic dog head logo!

All of the aerated water bottles found in our commercial pits were broken. Based on the overall ratio of finishes to bases, it appears that bottles were thrown away already broken, rather than being complete but getting broken as they were thrown away. This isn’t particularly surprising as it would be poor management by the Milsoms if complete bottles, which could be cleaned, refilled, and sold again, were instead thrown out, especially when the only replacements had to be ordered and shipped from England.

Just a few of the many many broken torpedo bottle tops found at the site.

Torpedo bottles were the most common bottle that we found. Given that two of our pits dated to the 1860s, and the other three to the 1870s to early 1880s, this was expected, as the torpedo bottle was the main soda water bottle that was in use during that time. Lamont and Langely bottles, which are bottle styles that were patented in the latter half of the 1870s, appear in our later pits, indicating that the Milsom factory was keeping up to date with developments in the English bottle industry and was ordering in new bottle styles when they became available.

And now for the bases. Some of our torpedo bottles were very close to being complete, but there were also lots that were much more fragmentary than these.

Of the 439 non-alcoholic beverage bottles found at the site, 320 or 73% were not embossed, suggesting that the Milsom factory was mainly purchasing blank bottles and attaching paper labels. This was likely a cheaper and easier option than buying embossed bottles. Looking at the remaining glass soda water bottles that were embossed, some interesting patterns become apparent. Firstly, there are a range of different Milsom family soda water bottles across our pits, including bottles from G. P. Milsom, who was based in Kaiapoi, and R. Milsom, who was based in Lyttelton. It is possible that these bottles were accidentally returned to the wrong factory. Alternatively, it could be that these operations lent the St Asaph Street factory spare bottles when needed, or collected and reused any Milsom bottle, given the family connection. Somewhat surprisingly though, Milsom family bottles only made up a quarter of the embossed glass soda water bottles, despite the factory being owned and run by the Milsoms.

This table summarises the different aerated water manufacturers that were represented in our commercial pits, and how many times we found them.

A selection of J. Milsom and Co. Lamont patent bottles.

The only non-Milsom bottles that were from a Christchurch aerated water factory were two R. McPherson bottles. Robert McPherson ran an aerated water and cordial business on the corner of Cambridge Terrace between c. 1872 and 1887 (Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, 2022: 124). Both these bottles were located in the same pit. Interestingly, in the same pit we found 24 bottles from the Otago based Thomson and Co. factory. It was both illegal and frowned upon for aerated water factories to use another company’s trademarked bottles, although from newspaper articles we know that it did happen. If we assume that the Milsom bottles from the Lyttelton and Kaiapoi factories were probably used with the permission of those factories, given the family connection, then for the most part J. Milsom and Co. appear to have been very good at ensuring that they weren’t stealing another factory’s bottles. That the McPherson and Thomson bottles were all located within the one pit suggests that this use of other New Zealand factory’s bottles was restricted to a certain point of time, possibly a period when the Milsom factory were short on bottles. The pit that these bottles were in was filled sometime between 1878 and 1884, which is around the time that Henry J. Milsom took over the factory from his uncle. Could it be that Henry was not as ethical as his uncle, and was fine with grabbing some bottles from another factory, particularly if that factory was in a different city and thus probably less likely to be aware that their bottles had been stolen?

Just when you thought that you’d gotten away with a crime, some pesky archaeologist comes along and digs up the evidence some 140 years later.

In addition to the already described bottles, a range of British, and one Australian, soda water bottles were found in the commercial pits. Of these, Schweppes and Pitts bottles were the most common. This isn’t surprising as both these companies manufactured for the export market and their soda water was advertised as being available for purchase in New Zealand newspapers (New Zealand Herald, 22/11/1866: 2). Pitts and Schweppes likely exported their soda water on the assumption that the bottles would never be returned to them, given the physical and time constraints of doing so. Therefore, it makes sense that New Zealand aerated water factories would re-purpose their bottles meaning that the presence of these bottles at the site shouldn’t be viewed as the deliberate theft of another company’s bottles (unlike the McPherson and Thompson and Co. bottles). The Schweppes and Pitts bottles made up just under half of all of the embossed bottles, indicating that both companies were exporting to New Zealand in quite large quantities.

A few of the many Schweppes bottles from the site. And yes, if you were wondering if Schweppes was the same Schweppes that you can find on the supermarket shelves then it sure is- Schweppes basically pioneered the aerated water industry.

The remaining 7% of embossed bottles relate to five different soda water manufacturers. These were the Australian firm, W. G. Henfrey, and the British firms, Webbs, Norths, Street and Co., and R. Johnston. For the most part these companies didn’t advertise in New Zealand newspapers, suggesting that they weren’t really manufacturing for the export market. While these bottles show up occasionally on New Zealand archaeological sites, they’re not very common, which is to be expected if the companies weren’t typically targeting the New Zealand market. What is particularly interesting is that all of these bottles were found in the same pit at the site. This pit dated to the early 1860s, around the time that aerated water factory was established. It was the only pit that didn’t contain any Milsom bottles, and most of the Schweppes and Pitts bottles were found in this rubbish pit. The early date of this pit makes us think that it was probably created prior to Joseph Milsom ordering and receiving his own branded bottles. Jospeh Milsom’s factory was established at a time where there was only one other aerated water factory in Central Christchurch, meaning that there is unlikely to have been large supplies of surplus aerated water bottles in the city. It is possible that Milsom purchased his bottles when he first established his factory from a third-party bottle merchant that’s business model revolved around purchasing empty bottles from consumers, washing them, and selling them back to bottling factories.

We said that there’d be pictures of bottles, we didn’t promise that they’d be pretty pictures. These are the bottles used by British and Australian soda water manufacturers.

It would be reasonable to expect that a bottle-merchant operating in 1860s Christchurch would have amassed a collection of various bottles, particularly if they were purchasing empty bottles from ships coming into Lyttelton. Based on our research, the R. Johnston bottle found in the pit was manufactured at least 15 years prior to Milsom establishing his aerated water factory, indicating that the bottle had probably been in circulation for some time before it was purchased by Milsom. This gives further weight to our interpretation that the reason why all of these foreign bottles were in this one pit is that they’re just what Milsom had available to him when he started his factory. The fact that they don’t appear in the later pits and instead we start to see Milsom branded bottles shows that once Milsom had his own supply of embossed bottles, he mostly stuck to using either those or plain ones with labels.

Of course, another possibility was that Milsom intentionally imported a range of different soda waters into Christchurch as part of market research for developing his own product. Milsom might have deliberately ordered a range of British and Australian sodas to taste test, using the results to develop his own flavours. While we think that the former is probably the likely explanation, it’s always important to always be considering multiple interpretations (and of course the truth could be something that we haven’t even thought of).

In addition to considering the range of bottles identified, it is also worth considering what was missing from our site. Before we started our dig at the site, we thought that there was a high chance that we would find a large dump of Milsom branded bottles dating to when Henry Mace took over the factory. The Milsom bottles would have been surplus to Mace’s requirements, given that Mace both had his own branded bottles and, as we’ve already mentioned, it was illegal to use another business’s trade marked item. We thought that Mace probably would have dug a big pit and thrown out all of the Milsom bottles into it and that we’d get a heap of beautiful complete bottles. But no, he didn’t.  Instead, it seems likely that Mace paid for a dustman to remove the bottles, which were no doubt numerous due to the success of the Milsom factory. It also seems likely that Mace utilised a dustman regularly, as no bottles relating to his business were identified on site, and analysis of the domestic features suggest they all to relate to the Milsom era, rather than Mace.

Overall, our St Asaph Street aerated water factory site is of pretty high archaeological significance and the artefact assemblage includes some pretty rare pieces. While it is a bit disappointing that we didn’t get any complete bottles, this site shows we can pull just as much information from the fragments – Broken is still good!

Alana Kelly and Clara Watson

References

Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, 2022. Unearthed: Bottles of the Christchurch & District Soft Drink Industry 1860-1980. Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, Christchurch

Well Well Well

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In early 2022 when I was asked if I would be keen to lead the dig at an aerated water factory site, I was pretty fizzed. It’s not every day that you get to work on this type of archaeological site, and having the chance to dive into the archaeology of a specific industry is always a good time – at least in my books. As you’ll see, our St Asaph Street site did not disappoint, and it certainly turned into quite the big job, with a total of 78 archaeological features being identified. For those interested in some quick stats we found 22 rubbish pits, five wells, two earthenware pipelines, an area of hydrocarbon staining (yuck), and a whole lot of post holes and piles. Together all of these features build up a brilliant picture of what happened at the site during the 19th and early 20th century. Today I’ll be focusing on wells and discussing what the five wells from our site can tell us.

If you want to get super technical, there are three basic methods of constructing a drinking well: dug, driven, and drilled. Dug is pretty self-explanatory, driven involves smacking a pipe into the ground, and drilled involves the use of specific drilling machinery. We see wells of all different shapes and sizes within the archaeological record here in Christchurch, and throughout wider New Zealand.

Most people would easily recognise the classic brick lined well. Typically, these beauties appear on our earlier Christchurch sites, as well sinking technology sharpened up in the late 1860s and early 1870s.

A yellow brick well found in central Christchurch. It was originally full of artefacts. Note the artesian on the left interior.

Sometimes we find unlined wells, although I’m not convinced these would be that great with Christchurch’s soft silty base. I know our Dunedin and Southland teams find these a bit more than us.

An unlined well uncovered in Invercargill. Photo courtesy of the Invers team.

Timber or barrel lined wells pop up from time to time.

A barrel lined well found by Hamish back in 2017 – what a cool find!

Less common, but still quite funky, are tube wells – a type of well made from a vertical earthenware pipe, easily comparable to the warp pipes in Super Mario.

Neda’s tube well and adjacent artesian (left), and Mario on a warp pipe/tube well (right). I see no difference.

But overall, the most common type of well we encounter is the trusty artesian. Artesian wells are long metal pipes sunk into the ground that tap into Christchurch’s underlying aquifer systems. Then, just when you think it can’t get any better, we find wells within wells. If you want to learn more about wells in general and Christchurch’s underlying aquifers, check out a blog written by our comrade Hamish here.

Three wells are better than one? The gorgeous well-inception uncovered at the Convention Centre.

Christchurch didn’t have a piped water supply until 1909, so settlers needed their own well to access fresh water. Given Christchurch’s swampy and riverine environment, they didn’t have to dig too deep to reach the pure underlying waters. This accessibility and quality is largely why Canterbury proved to be a popular location for aerated water factories. Between 1883 and 1923 there were more aerated water factories in Christchurch than Auckland, Wellington, and Dunedin combined, and it was said that in Canterbury there was a factory every 20 miles (Robson, 1995: 44). With all of this in mind, it comes as no surprise that we found five wells at our site.

The first artesian well (Feature 21) identified on site was actually found in the centre of a fairly large, and somewhat soggy, rubbish pit. These two features were located to the immediate west of the aerated water factory building, as outlined in the 1877 plan of the property. A convenient location, likely easily accessible through a side door. In contrast, these features fall within the boundary of the 1884 factory buildings (remember how Henry Joseph Milsom started the construction of new and extensive factory buildings in 1884) as shown in an 1899 survey plan. This indicates that our first artesian well relates to the earlier phase of the factory and was likely abandoned around 1884.

The large rubbish pit in which our first artesian well was found. Featuring Hamish in the background.

The exposed artesian well in the centre of the fully excavated rubbish pit. Featuring Tristan in the background.

Site plan showing the locations of artesian wells (light blue) and the brick-lined well (dark blue) in relation to building footprints. These are shown over the 1877 Strouts Map (underlying with infilled building footprints) and an 1899 survey plan (outline and dotted infill). In this plan we can see the location of Feature 21 to the immediate west of the 1877 factory building footprint, but within the footprint of the 1884 factory, which led us to identify that the well was probably abandonned in 1884 when the factory extension took place.

Analysis of the artefacts recovered from within the rubbish pit also support the abandonment of the well in this mid-1880s period, as they were determined to have a terminus post quem (earliest possible deposition date) of 1876. The location of the artesian in the centre of the rubbish pit is no coincidence. It is very likely that the formal cut of the surrounding rubbish pit represents a removed reservoir, tank, or structural base. If such a structure was removed, the remaining void would be ideal for an opportunistic rubbish pit, especially if you were undergoing renovations. As the recovered artefacts were commercial, relating to factory waste rather than domestic refuse, this seems pretty likely.

An artesian well with concrete reservoir trough, South Pasadena USA c. 1884. Source: University of Southern California Libraries and California Historical Society: calisphere.org/item/c381877653c774457691a8b6a3e95cc6/.

Interestingly, a series of circular post holes were arranged around our first well and its rubbish pit. I reckon these post holes represent one of three things.

  1. The footprints of the mechanical rig used to sink the well.
  2. The framing of a pump or rig feature, used to draw more water, possibly indicating things were drying up .
  3. A shelter or roof structure, not marked on the survey plan.

Without contemporary descriptions or photographs, it is difficult to determine what exactly these post holes truly represent. But we can say that they are evidence for some related structure or activity. So, it seems there are more to artesian wells that just a pipe in the ground.

Circular post holes surrounding our first artesian well and associated rubbish pit.

An example of a deep well sinking operation in Christchurch c. 1920. Image: [Artesian well sunk by McClure & Clemence, 31 Horatio Street, Christchurch]. Marks, J M fl 1905 :Photographs of Christchurch and environs, 1890s-1910s. Ref: 1/1-000456-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/23243245

An advertisement in the 1879 Southern Province Almanac (p. 102). Note the “wind-power pump for raising water”.

The next two artesian wells (Feature 19 and Feature 20) uncovered, were found quite close together. These two wells were identified at the immediate rear (south) of the 1884 factory building, as shown on the 1899 survey plan. So, we can safely assume these two wells relate to that mid-1880s expansion and refurbishment of the factory. With the two wells being adjacent, it is likely that one was a replacement, tapping into a deeper aquifer as the former well ran dry. Grouped wells have been observed elsewhere in Christchurch, showing that people preferred to maintain the same function of a space within a backyard or property – likely for accessibility and convenience.

Our second artesian well (Feature 19). Note the cap on the top of the pipe, which helpfully stopped the site from flooding (a common occurence when a digger bucket hits an artesian pipe that often leads to much malaise for the contractors).

Our third artesian well (Feature 21) with the top part removed.

Unlike our first well, these next two artesian wells do not appear to have had a reservoir or tank, at least not one built into the ground. They also had no adjacent post holes to indicate supportive or installation structures. Some artefacts were recovered from around our second artesian well (Feature 19). The artefact deposit was less formal and less artefact dense than the one associated with our first well, and it was interpreted as relating to the removal of the upper portion of the second well during its capping and abandonment.

The last artesian well (Feature 39) was found on the eastern side of the site, somewhat away from the location of the various factory buildings. This makes me think that this well wasn’t associated with the factory, as it would be inefficient to carry water over by bucket and there was no evidence for a subsurface pipe to the factory footprint. I also wondered if it could represent a water trough for horses, however, the stables were located to the north, so this seems unlikely. Instead, it seems more likely that this well was installed in the early 20th century and utilised by Grummit White and Co who purchased the eastern half of the site in 1903.

What did I say- this is a  typical view of an artesian well once uncovered by a digger. Sometimes we don’t even see the pipe without wading into the pooling water.

Only one brick lined well (Feature 22) was found at our site and it was located to the south of our factory buildings in close proximity to a small two-bedroom cottage. This small cottage was built in c. 1862 by a Mr J. Flemming, who owned the eastern side of our site before it was purchased by the Milsom’s in the 1870s. It seems to have been a rental during Mr Flemming’s ownership but was likely utilised as workers accommodation following the Milsom purchase.

Excavation of the well found it was backfilled with sterile fill, and there were no artefacts in the fill at all (I was quite disappointed!). However, the bricks making up the well provided information of their own. The sample brick collected had a bulge on its face, within the frog. This bulge was interpreted as being evidence of a manufacture error, and possibly represented where an air pocket had formed in the brick while firing. It is likely that the brick was sold as a ‘second’ as a result of this. The letters “F R” were stamped on the brick’s frog. While the brick manufacturer using these initials is not known, they appear to have been active during the early-mid 1860s. Based on the age and location, we can safely say this well relates to the occupants of our wee cottage and that it wasn’t installed by the Milsom’s. While this well doesn’t directly relate to our factory, it does show a division of domestic vs commercial space within our site. It also shows change over time in relation to site activity and well technology and use.

Our only brick lined well uncovered at St Asaph Street.

Who doesn’t love a side profile of a well – gorgeous!

The “FR” stamped brick recovered from our lined well.

While wells are a pretty common archaeological feature here in Christchurch, and it might seem a bit self-evident that an aerated water factory would need its own water supply, the morphology and location of the wells on our St Asaph Street site is able to provide us with information on the aerated water industry and the growth and development of Milsom and Mace’s factory. An artesian well might just be a pipe in the ground, but the water that flowed through it would have been carbonated and, in some cases, flavoured, and then used to fill thousands of bottles with soda water that were enjoyed across the district, meaning that they were a pretty key component to Christchurch’s aerated water industry.

Just like that my wells have run dry. So, check in again next time when we will discuss the findings from our numerous rubbish pits. With both domestic and commercial rubbish pits found on site, we have some fascinating findings and interpretations to share. And finally, it wouldn’t be an aerated water factory without bottles – see you in two weeks.

Alana Kelly

References

Robson, P. E. W., 1995. A History of the Aerated Water Industry in New Zealand 1845-1986. New Zealand Soft Drink Manufacturer’s Association and AGM Publishing Ltd., Wellington.

 

 

Milsom, Mace and More

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Today’s blog is the start of a three-piecer on one of Christchurch’s earliest aerated water factories, once located on St Asaph Street. Now we have written plenty of blogs about aerated waters in the past (see here, here, and here) so we won’t cover much of the general information on the industry. Instead, we will start by diving into the history of Milsom and Mace, two big fish in the pond of aerated waters, before getting into the archaeology discovered on site in our next blog. So, settle in with a glass of your favourite soft drink and enjoy.

The St Asaph Street aerated water factory, which is the subject of these blogs, was in operation from 1860, which is pretty early for the Christchurch setting. The only other manufacturer set up in central Christchurch before this was Thomas Raine, who was in operation from 1859. Raine (great name for a fizzy drink man) was initially located over on the corner of Peterborough and Colombo Street, but later moved to the corner of Gloucester Street and Cambridge Terrace.

The St Asaph Street aerated water factory was owned and operated by Joseph Milsom from 1860, although it wasn’t ‘officially’ purchased until 1863. The Milsom family became somewhat of a powerhouse in the world of 19th century aerated waters in Canterbury. So, before we get into it, J. Milsom is not to be confused with R. Milsom (his brother), H. J. Milsom (his nephew), G. P. Milsom (another nephew), J. B Milsom (yet another nephew), or any other potential Milsoms out there. The many Milsom businesses are summarised below.

Keeping up with the Milsoms. A summary of the many Milsom businesses of Christchurch and surrounds, their locations, names, and operation dates. Honestly, it was a whole family affair. Compiled based on information from Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc (2022).

Once established in 1860, J. Milsom initially traded under his name, before entering a partnership with his brother Richard in 1861. Richard also had an aerated water factory, which was located on London Street in Lyttelton. For the next two years the pair traded as R. & J. Milsom, operating out of both Richard’s London Street factory and Joseph’s St Asaph Street Factory. For reasons unknown the partnership ended in 1863 and the two went back to operating out of their own factories under their own names

An advertisement for R. & J. Milsom, detailing their dual locations. Lyttelton Times, 8/5/1861: 8.

Advertisement for J. Milsom’s goods. Southern Provinces Almanac, 1864: 126.

During this early operation period, two buildings are shown to be located on the property. It is likely that the building fronting St Asaph Street was the house where Milsom and his family lived as it matches the placement of the other neatly arranged houses on the surrounding sections. The second building to the south was most likely the original aerated water factory. No buildings were established on the western town section and the southern areas of the two sections were otherwise vacant at this time.

The St Asaph Street aerated water factory site highlighted in red, as shown on Fooks 1862 map of Christchurch. The eastern section was ‘officially’ purchased in 1863, and the western section was purchased in 1875. Note: Southwark Street was originally named George Street.

In 1866 J. Milsom formed a new partnership with his nephew Henry J. Milsom, with the business operating under J. Milsom & Co. Unfortunately, the partnership filed for bankruptcy in 1871, which, to be fair, was a pretty common occurrence during the 19th century. A newspaper article from the time suggests that something a bit scandalous happened between the pair as Joseph Milsom declared that he was carrying on the business in his own account having ‘no connection with Henry Joseph Milsom’ who was a former business partner. Although whatever happened can’t have been too serious as Henry Jospeh Milsom remained in the employ of the Aerated Water Company. What exactly went on remains a mystery, but we haven’t seen the last of Henry.

A public notice. Lyttelton Times, 17/4/1871: 1

Following the resolution of the bankruptcy, the 1870s and 1880s proved to be a successful period for the Milsom family as branches were operated in Dunsandel, Ashburton, Sheffield, and Leeston (Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, 2022: 152). During these two decades, the family certainly had a strong hold on the market and by the mid-1870s, the St Asaph Street factory had grown. In Stout’s 1877 map of Christchurch, we can see the expansion of the factory in the centre of the site, with two smaller associated outbuildings to the east. Additionally, J. Milsom’s house in the northeast corner of the site appears to have been either expanded or replaced by this period.

Interestingly, Henry Joseph Milsom appears to have returned to the partnership with his uncle by 1876. It is possible that the returned partnership was triggered by Henry Joseph Milsom’s purchase of the neighbouring property to the west. There are two houses shown on this section in Strout’s 1877 map, a larger one facing St Asaph Street and a smaller one facing Southwark Street. It is likely that these were the original houses built on the property by Mr James Long Fleming who purchased it in 1863. A sales notice from 1864 describes the property as a quarter acre section of freehold land with a dwelling house of five rooms (likely the one facing St Asaph Street) and a cottage of two rooms (likely the one facing Southwark Street) (Lyttelton Times, 30/8/1864: 4).

The St Asaph Street aerated water factory site highlighted in red, as shown on Stouts 1877 map of Christchurch. Facing St Asaph Street are two houses, the large building in the centre is the new factory building, with two outbuildings to the east. Another small cottage faces Southwark Street.

Henry Joseph Milsom’s return to St Asaph Street appears to have been in preparation to take over the factory from his uncle, who seems to have retired in 1880. Although J. Milsom does seem to continue to have had some involvement in the business, as it was not until 1882 that the firm begun to trade as H. J. Milsom and Co. But all up that makes over 20 years in the aerated water industry, which is a pretty good innings.

The business seemed to have prospered under Henry’s lead, as in 1884 he was advertising the removal of an old house, buildings, sheds, and other things to make way for the construction of ‘new and extensive buildings’ (Press, 5/4/1884: 3). It seemed as though he was planning another revamp of the factory and accommodations. However, in less than a fortnight after placing the advertisement, Henry died of a ‘short but severe illness’ at the St Asaph premises aged 42 (Press, 14/4/1884: 2). Henry’s widow, Mrs Amelia Jane Milsom, initially took over the running of the business, and later sold it in December of 1884 to Henry Mace (Star, 6/01/1885: 2). Thus, marking the end of the Milsom era at St Asaph Street.

Auction notice for the removal of buildings at the Milsom’s Lemonade and Cordial Factory, 1884. Press, 5/04/1884:3.

A public notice detailing the sale of the St Asaph Street factory to Henry Mace, following the death of Henry Milsom. Star, 6/01/1885: 2.

Henry Mace had an interesting life and was quite the successful man. He was born in Yorkshire, England in 1837, and, like many others, was drawn out to Australasia after the discovery of gold (The Cyclopedia of New Zealand [Canterbury Provincial District] 1903:367). In 1861, after a few years on the Australian goldfields, Henry crossed the ditch and began looking for gold in Otago. He, along with his brothers John and Charles, began prospecting at the junction of 12 Mile Creek and the Arrow River, with the ensuing settlement named ‘Macetown’ after the trio. Following his success on the goldfields, he became an important figure in the aerated water industry. Prior to his purchasing of the Milsom factory, he also ran factories in Hokitika and Wellington.

The man, the myth, the mohawk? The Cyclopedia of New Zealand [Canterbury Provincial District] 1903:367.

Tancred Street, Hokitika in the 1870s, looking towards the Southern Alps with the Hokitika River on the left. Part of the Mace & Dixon building is visible on the left. Image: westcoast.recollect.co.nz/nodes/view/26468  .

After purchasing the Milsom business from Mrs Amelia Jane Milsom, Mace renamed the business ‘H. Mace’ and traded from the factory. He seems to have continued on with the site renovations started by Henry Milsom, as an 1885 description of the factory states he had a large main building, a stable, and a coach house. These buildings are likely the ones shown on the 1899 survey plan.  Here is a full description of the factory:

“His large and commodious building is built of brick and stone, as also is a large six-stalled stable and coach-house, with an extensive loft, and is situated in St. Asaph-street, running through to George-street. The upper storey of the factory is used as a storeroom for the numerous articles used in the manufacture of cordials bitters, sauce, &c. The ground floor contains the factory, cordial room and office. Water is laid on throughout the premises, and the frequent use of it keeps the place pleasantly cool. The machine at work is a soda-water machine (by Barrett and Foster) with double cylinders, each containing eight gallons, capable of turning out 1600 dozen daily. It is driven by an Otto silent gas-engine of 3-horse power. This also drives the oat-crushing and chaff-cutting machines in the stable loft-Among the other apparatus are the several bottling machines, which are used for filling the Hogben, Lamont, and Coad patents, as well as the ordinary plain bottle—all of which are in use by this firm—a siphon, filler, and a gasometer, one of the largest in the colony. In the cordial room are the several casks in use for the manufacture of cordials, sauce, bitters, &c., whilst all the shelves are kept constantly filled up with them. They are all corked by the French. Gervais corking machine, which compresses and drives in the cork at the same time.”

 – Illustrated Guide to Christchurch and Neighbourhood, 1885: 208.

The St Asaph Street factory site as shown on an 1899 survey plan. The factory is now in the centre of the western section. LINZ, 1899.

Henry Mace’s brand became known for their dogs head logo, variations of which featured on the bottles produced, and the business powered on through the 1880s and 1890s. In c. 1901, H. Mace became H. Mace & Co., with William Longton becoming a partner. But, soon after this, in mid-1902, Henry Mace died of rheumatic fever. Nevertheless, the business continued under his name, trading until 1923 (Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, 2022: 126-127).

H. Mace bottle with dog head logo in centre. Image: C. Watson.

Advertisement for H. Mace & Co.. Davie, 1902: 35.

By the turn of the 20th century, the factory site was still owned by Mrs Amelia Jane Milsom. In 1900 she sold the eastern section to Grummitt, White, and Co., who were clothing manufacturers that specialised in waterproof clothing, and in 1906 she sold the western section to James and Catherine Rattray. Through the 20th century the site became heavily built up with commercial buildings, but nothing too major seems to have happened. By 2004 much of the former factory site was used as carparks, which are an archaeologists best friend. You’ll see why next time.

Grummitt and White Christchurch clothing factory St. Asaph Street, Christchurch. The aerated water factory site is on the right. Image: CCL-KPCD13-0006, Christchurch City Libraries, 2021.

Alana Kelly

References

Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, 2022. Unearthed: Bottles of the Christchurch & District Soft Drink Industry 1860-1980. Christchurch Antique Bottle and Collectables Club Inc, Christchurch.

Christchurch City Libraries, 2021. [online] Available at:  https://christchurchcitylibraries.com

Cyclopaedia Company Ltd., 1903. Cyclopaedia of New Zealand [Canterbury Provincial District]. The Cyclopaedia Company Limited, Chistchurch.

Davie, M., 1902. Tourist’s Guide to Canterbury. P. A. Herman, Christchurch. [online] Available at: https://christchurchcitylibraries.com/DigitalCollection/Publications/1900s/TouristGuide1902/Pages/83338-001.asp

Fooks, C. E., 1862. Christchurch, Canterbury, New Zealand [map].

LINZ, 1899. A 8690, Canterbury. Landonline.

Lyttelton Times, 1851-1920. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers.

Mosely, M., 1885. Illustrated Guide to Christchurch and Neighbourhood. J. T. Smith & Co., Christchurch. [online] Available at: https://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/tm/scholarly/tei-MosIllu.html

Press, 1861-1945. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/.

Southern provinces almanac, directory, and year-book, 1864. Lyttelton Times, Christchurch. [online] Available at: https://canterburystories.nz/collections/publications/southern-provinces-almanac/ccl-cs-11851

Star, 1868-1935. [online] Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers.

Strouts, F., 1877. Map of Christchurch, Canterbury compiled from data supplied to City Council and District Drainage Board [map].

West Coast Recollect, 2023. [online] Available at: https://westcoast.recollect.co.nz/