Tag Archives: artefact

George Gould’s Cookham House

Posted on by
2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clara Watson

References

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

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

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

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

The Sum of a Life

Posted on by
Reply

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clara Watson, Lydia Mearns

 

 

 

Gardens on a Plate

Posted on by
Reply

For some of us, that title may have conjured up childhood memories of making ‘sand-saucer’ gardens for the local flower show or ‘pet and garden’ day at school. But I’ve actually something different in mind.

We have found quite a few 19th  century ceramic vessels from around Christchurch featuring botanical motifs, either of specific flowers and plants, or of plant-heavy scenery. So today I’m going to tiptoe through the tulips of floral abandon, and track down some of the botanical wonders that 19th century Christchurch had on their sideboards.

This splendid platter is an example of idealised ‘Romantic’ scenery, featuring an assortment of pretty plants. I suspect horticultural accuracy was not top of the list of requirements for creating this type of pattern, so some educated guesswork is needed (especially without the help of flower colours) to identify some of these plants. Around the border, I see roses (both single and double flowered blooms with thorned stems), maybe zinnias (in 1858 the first double flowered types were bought to the UK from India), some small and rather stylized blooms that are possibly forget-me-nots (symbolic of remembrance and sometimes of freemasonry) or daisies. The central scene has a couple of elegant trees, a fern or two, some more roses, perhaps a chrysanthemum or marigold, and an assortment of flowering shrubbery. The tree on the left appears to have flowers and the one on the right fruit, with neither in proportion to the size of the tree or identifiable as a particular species so perhaps these are just ‘wish-list’ expressions of what ought to be in the ideal garden. Image: C. Watson.

We are going to see a few roses today. While roses have been grown as decorative plants for centuries, it was not until the late 1700s and early 1800s that the China Rose and the Tea Rose were introduced to Europe, which led to the development of the modern, repeat-flowering type of rose. There was an explosion of cultivars onto the market and roses became one of the most popular garden plants.

For something completely different, this plate features a fruit-laden grape vine. The grape is another plant not native to the UK (Wikipedia tells me that the Romans were the culprits here. The English climate was not ideal for this temperate to subtropical-origin vine, so the wider use of the heated glasshouse in the 19th century was a boon for those trying to produce grapes for eating or wine. The grape has a rich symbolic history, being associated with both the Greek god Dionysus (and the Roman Bacchus), and as a Christian symbol for Jesus Christ, from the scriptural quote “I am the true vine” (John 15:1). Was this design symbolic of something, or purely decorative in intent? Image: C. Watson.

This elegant design appears to feature lilies at first glance. The flower by itself looks very much like a Tigerlily or Daylily, but the leaves are clearly not those of a lily (lilies have narrow pointed strap-like leaves). They aren’t Hibiscus flowers either. There is some resemblance to Rhododendron occidentale (western azalea) from North America, (first described in the 19th century, with seed being sent to the UK in 1850) as pictured below ). What do you think? Do you recognise it as something else? Or is it an artistic concoction of the flowers of one species with the leaves of another? The other more instantly recognisable plant shown on this plate is the acanthus, common in classical decorative motifs, from Greek Corinthian capitals on pillars, to wrought iron work, to 1875 William Morris wallpaper patterns. Also known as Bears Breeches, the plant has many uses in herbal and traditional medicine, including treating asthma, arthritis, leprosy and snake bites! Image: C. Watson.

Rhododendron occidentale or western azalea flowers. Image: W. Gibbs.

This plate features the Asiatic Pheasants pattern. Frequently mentioned on the blog in previous posts, the history of the Asiatic Pheasant pattern is best summarised as following: “It is likely that the design originated with Ralph Hall of Swan Bank Pottery, Tunstall, Staffordshire, who was active from 1822 to 1849. Hall’s Pheasant appears to have been printed mainly and perhaps exclusively in black. Soon other potters began to produce Asiatic Pheasants, printed almost invariably in pale blue. Podmore Walker and Co. of Well Street, Tunstall, Staffordshire commenced business in 1834 and were early producers of Asiatic Pheasants and subsequently claimed to be the originators of Asiatic Pheasants. In 1853 they took over the Ralph Hall factory. By 1880 Asiatic Pheasants was the most popular pattern of all, toppling Willow pattern from the top spot” (Lovers of Blue and White).                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               So, what about the plants?  Roses are clearly featured here, both single and double-flowered forms with thorny stems.  Around the rim, at the 6 o’clock and 10 o’clock positions is a flower with a prominent carpel in the centre, maybe a passionfruit flower or possibly hibiscus. The passionfruit was rather exotic in the 19th century and became popular during the Victorian era, with many hybrids created from the winged-stem passion flower (P. alata) and the blue passion flower (P. caerulea). The flower has been given a strong Christian symbolism, which may have made it a popular design feature. Image: C. Watson.

The base of this cup is decorated with an elegant flowering plant, likely some sort of bulbous plant (based on the leaf shape and growth), possibly a snowflake, snowdrop, lily of the valley, scilla or Spanish bluebell. Without the clues of colour or more detail, it’s difficult to say for sure, but it is still rather pretty. Image: C. Watson.

This pair of handsome transfer printed and clobbered plates looks to me like a celebration of autumn. The gold-painted and gold-veined leaves are falling loose around a couple of types of flowers. Both the flower and leaf shape of the smaller flowers look very much like chrysanthemum, though the larger flowers with prominent veining are less easily identifiable. They could be another form of chrysanthemum or daisy, but I’m going to say they are flowers of the Tree Dahlia, a quite spectacular autumn-flowering plant introduced to Europe in the 16th century. Image: C. Watson.

This scene is of a couple of men hard at work in a garden. It could represent gardeners at ‘home’, planting out the exotic plants bought back from some far-flung locale by explorers or plant hunters. It could equally be viewed as settlers in a new land, freshly off one of the ships in the background, busily clearing land in order to plant out the cherished plants (seen in the pots to the right) they bought with them from ‘home’. There is a spade and watering can visible in the foreground and the figure on the left is carrying a bare-rooted tree or shrub (more clearly seen in the original print). The pattern refers to one of Dr Benjamin Franklin’s maxims, specifically his maxim “industry needs not wish, and he that lives upon hope will die fasting, there are no gains without pains, then help hands for I have no lands” (Riley 1991:275). The illustration was taken from 24 scenes of town and country life illustrating Franklin’s Lessons for the young and the old, on industry, temperance, frugality &c by Robert Drighton, published by Bowles and Carver, London in 1795 (Riley 1991: 270). Image: C. Watson. 

The 19th century in the UK was a golden era of gardening, and in particular of hothouse and exotic flower cultivation. Plant hunters were romping around the globe, many sponsored by wealthy patrons, finding, recording and returning with specimens of plants previously unknown to the western world.  Add to that the development from 1847 of methods to create larger pieces of plate glass, and better glazing and construction methods, and the Victorian-era glasshouse and conservatory was born. Here wealthy families grew the rare and exotic, or at least their gardening staff did, and showed them off to their friends (in a sort of botanical keeping up with the Jones’s). At the same time the middle classes had increasing leisure time and some spare cash, and those aspiring to a bit of societal climbing looked to grow some of the exotic offerings now available. Anything that survived in lower light levels, smoky rooms and cooler temperatures but still looked exotic became especially popular .Aspidistra, Hoya and the Parlour Palm were all introduced to the UK in early/mid 1800s. At the same time, deliberate selective breeding of ‘decorative’ plants became more widespread.

The citizens of Christchurch were equally keen on their gardens. The Christchurch Horticultural Society was established in 1861, and by 1863 were holding flower shows open to the public. (Press 01/12/1863: 2).In 1866 the Society took formal possession of the ground that would become the Botanic Gardens (Press 11/09/1866: 2).  By 1866 H. G. Burnell, Seed Merchant of Cashel St, was advertising 1000 varieties of flower seeds for sale (Press 31/08/1866:1) .  In the same year, there was an auction of “60 large specimen plants in full bloom, being fuchsias, petunias etc”, on the day after the flower show. (Press 01/03/1866).

There were at least three commercial plant nurseries advertising in the Press during the 1860s.  Grove Nursery, which sold, amongst other plants, a “choice collection of green-house plants, always on sale from England” (Press 17/05/1862: 7).  Woodburn Nursey (W. Hislop) who at various times advertised “upwards of one million hedge plants” (Press 01/06/1861: 7), carrot, turnip and parsnip seeds (Press 12/10/1861: 7) and an auction of “about 300 very choice Greenhouse Plants (including fuchsias, camellias, amaryllis, mimosa, cuphea, farfugium &…. other plants adapted for Greenhouse and window culture)” (Press 25/02/1863: 3).   And lastly, Christchurch Nursery, (W. Wilson) which sold a large variety of plants and seeds including “Cerrus (sic) Deodara seed recently collected to order in the Himalaya Mountains” (Press 04/01/1862:8), over a dozen different types of fruit trees (including mulberries and figs), rhubarb, asparagus, and many species of ornamental trees, shrubs and hedging plants (including including privet, gorse and broom!) (Press 14/06/1862: 8). It’s clear that gardening was a popular activity in Christchurch. There were even gardens open to the public for picnicking and other activities, such as Taylor’s (later Kohler’s) pleasure gardens and maze (in the area of the current Hagley High School). Formally opened to the public on 2 February 1862, it was described at the time as being “well laid out in grass plats (sic), flower borders, shrubberies, and an extensive maze, the first of its kind in the colony” (Lyttelton Times 28/12/1861: 5).

At the same time greenhouses were being constructed locally. Frederick Jenkins of City Steam Saw Mills, Planing, Joinery and Moulding Works  advertised that he was “prepared to supply the trade with first-class goods……greenhouses, hothouses and conservatories, on the most improved principles” (Press 26/03/1863: 6). When larger houses and estates were advertised for sale, greenhouses were regularly listed as part of the equipment. In 1864 Albourne Lodge a “large and beautifully situated house” had a greenhouse listed as one of the out-buildings (Press 13/12/1864:3).  When the Ilam homestead was advertised for let in 1862 a “greenhouse, well heated and stocked with vines” was listed as one of the assets (Press 05/07/1862:5).

But what if you couldn’t manage to keep any of these fancy or exotic plants, or to visit the locales from whence they came?  Well, why not have them on your crockery instead!

Wendy Gibbs

References

Lyttelton Times [online]. Available: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Press [online]. Available: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Riley, N. 1991. Gifts For Good Children: The History of Children’s China, Part 1, 1790-1890. Somerset: Richard Dennis.