In which the emanation of effluvia is offensive to one’s senses

Posted on 17 April 2014 by Jessie Garland

Continuing on from last week’s blog, today’s post takes a look (or a sniff, if you will) at the aromas of everyday life inside a Victorian house. Smell is such an intrinsic part of human life, yet so fleeting that it can only be experienced directly in the present moment. The smells of the past, as Hamish mentioned last week, are only available to us indirectly, through written descriptions and the power of our imagination (itself based upon our own past olfactory experiences).

As far as the 19^th century is concerned, many of the everyday scents and aromas experienced by people in Christchurch would still be familiar to us, even now. Others, however, have faded from daily life during the intervening decades as household products and technologies have gradually been replaced by modern, odourless, alternatives.

A lovely brass candlestick (used by Colonel mustard in the library, perhaps...). We think that the pieces of fabric stuck to the metal are just the remnants of the wrapping it was thrown out in, rather than a functional or decorative part of the candlestick itself. There's even a candle stub still visible inside the holder, near the base. Image: J. Garland

A brass candlestick found in Christchurch. Image: J. Garland

The smell of lighting, for example, is something that wouldn’t even register as a household smell now. Yet, in the 19^th century, everything that produced light (with the exception of the sun, of course) – candles, kerosene lamps, gas lamps, wood or coal fires – would also have produced a smell. Some of these have featured on the blog before, in the form of candle sticks and fireplaces found on Christchurch sites, but we’ve not really considered them in the context of their smell before.

Many of the fireplaces we’ve come across would not have ‘drawn’ well, meaning there would often have been coal or wood smoke in the room while they were lit. Kerosene lamps were notorious for their smell, to the point that advertisers made an effort to emphasise the less ‘distasteful’ smell of their own products (Wairarapa Daily Times 7/2/1913: 7). Candles were made from a variety of materials, from cheap tallow to spermaceti (a wax found in sperm whales) and paraffin wax, some of which gave off distinctive smells and some of which did not. Even ‘odourless’ candles, though, such as ‘sperm candles’, would still have contributed to the scents of the household through the smell of the wick as it was extinguished, or matches as it was lit.

Advertisements for household lighting and heat. Left to right: advertisement for gas lighting, which avoids the “soot, smell and sadness” of other lighting methods (Northern Advocate 6/8/1920: 4); advertisement for Apollo Sperm Candles (Evening Post 8/8/1903: 15); advertisement for clean Shell kerosene heaters (Wairarapa Daily Times 7/2/1913:7)

Article on the creation of an allegedly odourless ‘super-cabbage’. Image: New Zealand Herald 21/5/1935: 4.

On the other hand, the smell of cooking – and food, in general – is one that we’re used to today, although perhaps not to the same extremes as in the 19^th and early 20^th centuries. As well as the smell of coal ranges or cooking fires, people during the period seem to have been particularly concerned with the aromas of cooked vegetables and meat permeating through the house (Ashburton Guardian 31/3/1900: 4). Newspapers from the time are full of advice on how to prevent the smell of cooking from spreading, with noticeable emphasis on the smell of cooking cabbage, onion and other boiled green vegetables (North Otago Times 20/12/1906: 1; New Zealand Herald 5/07/1930:7). Of course, some of the cooking smells of the time must have been more palatable than others: the aroma of fresh bread or baking, for example, is unlikely to have provoked such negativity.

Advice on how to prevent cooking smells from permeating through the house. Images: Evening Post 21/4/1939: 6; Ashburton Guardian 31/3/1900: 4; New Zealand Herald 7/9/1929: 7

However, food smells wouldn’t have been limited to cooking. Without the refrigeration that we have today, even the storage of food in a house would have generated a variety of smells – some good (spices, perhaps) and some bad. We talked about a few of the foodstuffs that we’ve found on sites in Christchurch a little while ago. Some of these – the anchovy paste, for example – probably smelled quite pungent to start with, let alone after they’d been sitting in unrefrigerated storage for any length of time. In fact, many of the food-related artefacts we find, from vinegar bottles to Bovril to jars of ground cheese, would have had fairly distinctive aromas that we tend to forget about when we’re looking at them.

An Anchovy Paste jar found in Christchurch and accompanying recipe from 1904. Image: J. Garland, Otago Witness 17/08/1904: 67.

An anchovy paste jar found in Christchurch, and recipe from 1904. Image: J. Garland, Otago Witness 17/08/1904: 67.

Perhaps the most obvious difference between the household smells of then and now is, as it was with the smells of the outside world, related to the management of human waste, sanitation and personal hygiene. Last week, Hamish mentioned one site with a crudely made drain, which might have contributed to the smell of the sewer travelling up the pipe and into a house. We don’t know how common an occurrence this might have been in 19^th century Christchurch, but we do know that the smell of human waste would have been a strong presence in houses anyway, thanks to the use of chamber pots – a multitude of which have been found on sites in the city.

Part of a chamberpot decorated with the May Morn pattern. Image: J. Garland.

For many 19^th century households, the toilet (or privy) would have been located outside, separate from the main house or attached to the rear of the dwelling (Butcher & Smith 2010). While this set-up would have been fine for use during the day, chamber pots were common household items for use during the night, when it was too cold or too dark to stumble outside to the privy. Even when emptied frequently, the smell must have been fairly pervasive and less than pleasant.

An 1870s article describing the use of coffee as a disinfectant and de-odouriser. Image:

An 1870s article describing the use of coffee as a disinfectant. Image: Southland Times 3/6/1870: 3

However, there were a number of methods and products available in the 19^th century to combat the more unpleasant household smells, products that would have themselves contributed to the overall aromatic signature of the Victorian Christchurch home. Examples of 19^th and early 20^th century cleaning products from Christchurch sites have featured here on the blog before. All of these would have provided a fairly strong assault on the nostrils, particularly the disinfectants like Kerol, Lysol and Jeyes Fluid (New Zealand Herald 22/1/1912: 8). Other methods of preventing ‘noxious odours’ in the home included the cooking tips mentioned above, the careful placement of flowers or floral scented sachets (lavender or rose, usually; New Zealand Herald 26/10/1912: 6), or the use of coffee as a “powerful means…of rendering animal and vegetable effluvia innocuous” (Southland Times 3/6/1870: 3).

Kerol bottle found in Christchurch, along with 1920s poem singing the praises of the disinfectant. Images: Colonist 24/02/1920; J. Garland.

Sadly, due to the constraints of space, in this post I’ve really only touched on the plethora of smells that would have defined a household in the 19^th century. I’ve not mentioned the smell of the building itself (wallpapers, particular types of timber, the damp; Bruce Herald 23/10/1872: 9) or the smell of household animals or pets or many of the other scented household products (for better or for worse) that would have been in use (Evening Post 20/2/1930: 7). Not to mention the personal smells created by people themselves, from the smell of their clothing (washed and unwashed), the smell of leather shoes, individual perfumes or lack thereof, the smell of a person’s hair (which may have been washed with beetle juices!) or the soap that they used.

There are so many individual scents that make up the olfactory experience of our daily lives that it can be difficult to imagine that experience as a whole in the past, to combine all of the smells we’ve mentioned, this week and last, into an idea of what it was like to breathe in deeply in 19^th century Christchurch. It can also be difficult to separate out the various smells that contribute to our own experience, especially the ones we’re so used to that we barely notice them anymore. You have to wonder if perhaps it was a bit like that for people in the 19^th century as well: perhaps, so many of these smells were so common that they hardly registered in day to day life. For us, though, even imagining such smells has the power to make that daily life – those past scenes and experiences – more real, in a way that few other senses do.

Jessie Garland

References

Ashburton Guardian. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Bruce Herald. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Butcher, M. & Smith, I., 2010. Talking trash: classifying rubbish-bearing deposits from colonial New Zealand sites. Journal of Pacific Archaeology 1(1): 43-61.

Colonist. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Evening Post. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

New Zealand Herald. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

North Otago Times. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Otago Witness. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Southland Times. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Oh, you pretty things!

Posted on 21 March 2014 by Jessie Garland

Today for your viewing pleasure, we present a selection of interesting, unusual and aesthetically pleasing ceramics from Christchurch sites. Enjoy!

This lovely plate was made by Thomas Dimmock and sons, who operated from 1828 to 1859 in Hanley, Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire.

First up! This lovely plate was made by Thomas Dimmock & Co, who operated from 1828 to 1859 in Hanley, Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire. The impressed maker’s mark features the Dimmock & Co monogram and the label ‘pearl ware’. Although the pearl ware designation references a type of white bodied earthenware pottery popular in the first half of the 19th century, it has been suggested that its use as a label is not always accurate and may indicate a later, post c. 1845 date of manufacture (Brooks 2005: 31). The pattern itself, with its Classical themes, is fairly typical of that mid-century period. Image: J. Garland.

This plate fragment, decorated with the Vignette pattern, was also made by Thomas Dimmock & Sons (evident from the D in the maker's mark and the imprinted initials), dating its manufacture to the same 1828-1859 period. Image: J. Garland.

This plate fragment, decorated with the Vignette pattern, was also made by Thomas Dimmock & Sons (evident from the D in the maker’s mark and the impressed monogram), dating its manufacture to the same 1828-1859 period. The same pattern has been found in other New Zealand archaeological sites, including green examples found during the Street family homestead excavations in Taranaki (Adamson & Bader 2008: 82) Image: J. Garland.

A side plate transfer printed with the ‘Lucerne’ pattern. This plate was made by J W. Pankhurst & Co, Staffordshire potters who were in business from 1850 until 1882. The pattern has been described as a ‘typical romantic scene’, of the type popular during the 19th century (Coysh & Henrywood 1982: 232). Image: J. Garland.

A small cup, printed with the words "A PRESENT FOR MY DEAR GIRL" and a rabbit motif. Image: J. Garland

A small cup (probably for a child), printed with the words ‘A PRESENT FOR MY DEAR GIRL’ and a rabbit motif. Children’s cups like this one were common in the 19th century and featured all kinds of designs and statements (some more appropriate than others). Image: J. Garland

A side plate, decorated with the Cable pattern and made by Pinder, Bourne & Co (1862-1882; Godden 1964: 495). Interestingly, this is the second variation of the ‘Cable’ pattern we’ve come across. Image: J. Garland.

Part of a chamberpot decorated with a picnic scene. Image: J. Garland.

This chamber pot fragment is decorated with the ‘May Morn’ pattern, and was likely made by J & M. P. Bell & Co, a Glasgow pottery firm in operation from 1848-1928. The interior rim of the chamber pot is also decorated, with a wide border of hawthorn (Coysh & Henrywood 1982: 241). Image: J. Garland.

This piece is particularly interesting, marked as it is with ‘Sydenham House, Christchurch’ on the base, along with the name of the manufacturer (Copeland) and pattern registration diamond. The registration diamond indicates that this pattern was registered in 1861 (R in the top corner), on the 17th or 27th (number in right corner) of September (D in the left corner). Most interestingly of all, though, Sydenham House refers to a shop operated by Charles Prince in the 1860s that sold, among other things, crockery and fine china. And, according to this 1864 advertisement, that china included pieces made by the Copeland pottery. Sydenham House also provided the inspiration for the naming of the Sydenham Borough (now the suburb of Sydenham) in the 1870s . Image: J. Garland.

Something about pattern..... Image: J. Garland

A plate decorated with the ‘Eton College’ pattern, depicting a man, woman and child in front of a lake or river, with a building in the distance. It’s not clear if the building was actually intended to be Eton College or not. Known manufacturers of this pattern include Edward & George Phillips (1822-34), George Phillips (1834-48), Nicholson & Wood (pre-1854) and George F. Smith (1855-60), although it is likely to have been made by many other potters (Coysh & Henrywood Vol 1: 130; Godden 1964). Image: J. Garland.

A bowl decorated with an unidentified classical pattern, featuring a classically decorated urn within a mountainous (and non-British) landscape in the background. Unfortunately, no maker’s mark was found on this vessel, leaving both the maker and pattern unknown. Image: J. Garland.

This J. J. & Co plate is decorated with the delightfully named Spangle pattern. The plate dates to....

This J. J. & Co plate is decorated with the delightfully named ‘Spangle’ pattern. The plate dates from c. 1870-1887 and was made by the firm of J. Jackson & Co, potters at the Holmes Pottery in Yorkshire (Godden 1964: 349). Image: J. Garland.

A set of three saucers and at least one teacup, decorated with..... Image: J. Garland.

More classical motifs! These three saucers and tea cup all feature the same, unknown pattern and, again, had no maker’s marks with which we could identify the manufacturer. Image: J. Garland.

This saucer, decorated with the Foliage pattern, was made by Pinder, Bourne & Co (1862-1882). Image: J. Garland.

This saucer, decorated with the Foliage pattern, was made by Pinder, Bourne & Co (1862-1882; Godden 1964: 495). Image: J. Garland.

We found the same pattern (made by the same potters) on another vessel from the same feature, only in green this time. Image: J. Garland.

We found the same pattern (made by the same potters) on another vessel from the same feature, only in green. Image: J. Garland.

Side plate decorated with the Doric pattern and made by the Davenport Pottery of Staffordshire. Seems to date to c. 1815-1850. Image: J. Garland.

Moving away from the elaborate scenic and floral central motifs, this side plate is decorated very simply with the ‘Doric’ pattern. The plate was made by the Davenport Pottery of Staffordshire and seems to date to c. 1830-1860 (Coysh & Henrywood 1982: 102; Godden 1964: 190). Image: J. Garland.

Decorated with the Chantilly pattern and made by ...

And last, but not least, another delightfully named pattern. This ‘Chantilly’ (which makes me think of this) decorated soup plate was made by Francis Morely & Co, Staffordshire potters in business from 1845-1858 (Godden 1964: 449). Image: J. Garland.

Jessie Garland

References

Adamson, J. & Bader, H-D. 2008. Archaeological Excavation Report on the Street Homestead, Penrod Drive, Bell Block, Taranaki. Unpublished Report prepared by Geometria Ltd.

Brooks, A., 2005. An Archaeological Guide to British Ceramics in Australia 1788-1901. Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology and the La Trobe University Archaeology Program, Sydney & Melbourne.

Coysh, A. W. & Henrywood, R. K., 1982. The Dictionary of Blue and White Printed Pottery, 1780-1880, Vol 1. Antique Collectors Club, Suffolk.

Coysh, A. W. & Henrywood, R. K., 1989. The Dictionary of Blue and White Printed Pottery, 1780-1880, Vol. 2. Antique Collectors Club, Suffolk.

Godden, G., 1964. Encyclopaedia of British Pottery & Porcelain Marks. Herbert Jenkins, London.

The Potteries, 2014. [online] Available at www.thepotteries.org

A few of our favourite things…

Posted on 7 March 2014 by Jessie Garland

Over the last few weeks, we’ve been excavating a site in the CBD that’s yielded some of the most interesting artefacts we’ve see for a while. So, today on the blog, we’ve selected a few of these fascinating things for your viewing pleasure. Clay pipes, candlesticks, pepper shakers and bowler hats: scroll down for a veritable feast of pictorial splendour! Or something along those lines.

A bowler hat! This hat is made of felt and may have been worn by either a man or a woman (women used to wear hats like these with riding outfits in the lat 19th century). If you look very closely at the rim of the hat, you can see the remnants of the ribbon trim that once decorated it. Image: J. Garland.

First up, a bowler hat! This hat is made of felt and may have been worn by either a man or a woman (women used to wear hats like these with riding outfits in the late 19th century). If you look very closely at the rim of the hat, you can see the remnants of the ribbon trim that once decorated it. Image: J. Garland.

A lovely brass candlestick (used by Colonel Mustard in the library, perhaps…).The pieces of fabric stuck to the metal are probably just the remnants of the wrapping it was thrown out in, rather than a functional or decorative part of the candlestick itself. There’s even a candle stub still visible inside the holder, near the base. Image: J. Garland

This lovely little saucer is decorated with a Chinese motif, known as ‘Chang’. It appears to show one man cooking, while another stands around smoking a pipe. Not such an unfamiliar scene, is it? Image: J. Garland.

This is really, really cool. This clay tobacco pipe appears to have been made locally, here in Christchurch, by or for the Trent Brothers. The Trent brothers were coffee, flax and chicory merchants based in Christchurch in the second half of the 19th century. The lovely people over at the Lost Christchurch blog have an excellent series of posts on the brothers and their business. As far as we're aware, no other pipes like this one have been found before in New Zealand. Image: J. Garland.

This is really, really cool. This clay tobacco pipe has a local connection, being made by or for the Trent Brothers, Christchurch. The Trent brothers (Frederick and James) were coffee, flax and chicory merchants based in Christchurch in the second half of the 19th century. The lovely people over at the Lost Christchurch blog have an excellent series of posts on the brothers and their business. As far as we’re aware, no other pipes like this one have been found before in New Zealand. Image: J. Garland.

We found another New Zealand branded pipe at this site, this time stamped with the mark of Twentyman & Cousins. Messrs Twentyman & Cousins (wonderful names!) were Christchurch retailers

Surprisngly, we found another New Zealand branded pipe at this site, this time stamped with the mark of Twentyman & Cousin. Messrs Twentyman & Cousin (wonderful names!) were Christchurch retailers originally based in Cathedral Square. In the 1880s they moved to new premises at what is now 93 Cashel Street, into a building designed by renowned architect B. W. Mountfort (Press 17/06/1882:1). Image: J. Garland.

This Willow patterned salt/pepper shaker is a surprisingly unusual find: they're not often found in Christchurch's archaeological sites. It's one of my personal favourites from this assemblage. Image: J. Garland

This transfer printed salt/pepper shaker is a surprisingly unusual find: they’re not often found in Christchurch’s archaeological sites. It’s one of my personal favourites from this assemblage. Image: J. Garland

A pig snout gin bottle with a prunt or blob seal on the shoulder.

A pig snout gin bottle with an anchor decorated prunt or blob seal on the shoulder. Seals like these were most common in the first half of the 1800s, although they were still being added to bottles at the end of the century (usually to gin bottles like this one). This particular prunt is embossed with ‘Van Dulken Weiland & Co/ Rotterdam’, well-known 19th century Dutch gin manufacturers. Image: J. Garland.

A child’s plate! We’ve featured plates like this before on the blog, although none quite like this one. It reads “…in passing along they beheld on the ground / … man stretch’d along in a sleep most profound”. Image: J. Garland

And to finish….

These gorgeous shoes are in excellent condition. The adult size one (top)

Shoes! We’ve found a surprisingly large number of shoes (adult and child size) and fabric artefacts from this site, all in fairly good condition. Both the child sized shoe (bottom) and adult lace up shoe shown here (top) are among the only examples we’ve found with the complete upper portion of the shoe intact. Usually, we’re only recovering heels and soles. Aren’t they gorgeous! Images: J. Garland.

Jessie Garland

Food, glorious food!

Posted on 17 January 2014 by Jessie Garland

Food, in all its myriad forms, can be one of the most intrinsic and expressive aspects of culture and society – throughout time and across the world. From the customs surrounding the preparation and consumption of food to the ingredients themselves, we are, as they say, what (and how) we eat. Looking at the nature of food in past societies and cultures can be a rewarding exercise in finding both the strange and the familiar in the lives of those who’ve gone before us. After all, what is more universal yet more varied than food?

From a purely archaeological perspective, our impressions of past meals and culinary traditions are limited by what survives in the archaeological record. In the case of 19^th European century sites, this usually consists of animal remains and glass, metal or ceramic food containers: the only physical remnants of a much broader, much more varied array of food and drink. Ceramic or glass serving dishes and table wares can also provide information, usually on the how, rather than the what, of food consumption, but often prove difficult to interpret. Animal remains – the butchered bones of cattle, sheep, pig and poultry – are the most common evidence of food itself that we find, but I’m going to leave them for another post and focus here on what we can learn from the food containers we’ve found in Christchurch.

Unfortunately, because we’re limited to food containers, as the durable remnants of 19^th century culinary habits, our understanding of food types is skewed towards long-life items (i.e. preserves), condiments, and packaged foods rather than fresh ingredients. As a result, we see a lot of foods that are additives to meals (like condiments) rather than meals or major ingredients themselves. Even more than that, we’re restricted by what we can identify: distinctive containers used for specific food types or those labelled with the identity of their contents.

Examples of commonly found food containers from 19th century Christchurch sites. Left: A salad oil bottle. Middle: Embossed base from jar of W & W’s table salt. Right: Still labelled bottle of Mellor & Co’s Worcestershire sauce, a competing product to Lea & Perrins. Images: J. Garland.

19th century Lea & Perrins bottle found in Christchurch. Image: J. Garland.

Many of these are products that wouldn’t be unusual to find in the modern pantry and, in fact, some of them are still made today. Commonly found items like salad oil, table salt, pickles, sauces or flavoured essences are all familiar additions to modern cuisine, albeit in slightly different packaging than their Victorian counterparts. Other products, like Lea and Perrin’s Worcestershire sauce have persisted in popularity under the same brand for over a century: in the case of Lea and Perrins, it’s been over 170 years since its introduction. Similarly, foodstuffs like anchovy paste continue to appeal to the same subset of people who like really salty fish puree as they did in the 1800s. As a side note, my favourite 19^th century use for anchovy paste involves spreading it on fried bread and topping with a generous helping of whipped cream (Otago Witness 17/08/1904: 67). Takers, anyone?

An anchovy paste jar found in Christchurch and accompanying recipe from 1904. Image: J. Garland, Otago Witness 17/08/1904: 67.

As well as the more ordinary foods, however, we do come across a few weird and wonderful items during our investigations. Some of these only seem unusual at first glance, but wow, is it a strange first glance. Crosse & Blackwell’s calves’ foot jelly, for example, sounds less than appetising until you remember that gelatine (even modern gelatine) is derived from the bones, tendons and skin of various animals. Unlike modern gelatine products, though, calves’ foot jelly has no compunctions about promoting its ingredients: recipes for the jelly involved boiling calves feet in a stewing pan, removing the fat and straining before flavouring the mixture, usually with citrus (Auckland Star 26/10/1929: 4). In this sense, the jelly is an interesting reminder of how our attitudes towards the consumption of animal products have changed since the 19th century. We now produce and consume animal products on a colossal scale, yet are, thanks to the packaged nature of the food industry, more removed from the origins and preparation of those products than we’ve ever been. As the calves foot jelly reminds us, this was far less true of the 19^th century.

Left: Labelled bottle of Crosse & Blackwell’s calves foot jelly found in Christchurch. Right Advertisement from 1898. Calves’ foot jelly was frequently listed as a flavour of jelly in its own right by retailers in 19th century newspaper advertisements, right alongside raspberry, blackcurrant and orange. Images: J. Garland and Feilding Star 9/04/1898: 2.

In contrast to the honest marketing of the calves’ foot jelly, products like Virol bone marrow paste elicit our revulsion (well, for me they do) thanks to the use of ingredients that have long since been replaced with more palatable alternatives. Virol contained a mixture of bone marrow, malt extract, eggs, lemon syrup, lime salts and iron salts. Bone marrow is still eaten today (it’s something of a delicacy in some places), but it’s the combination of the fatty, spongy marrow with the lemon syrup and malt extract that makes my taste buds shrivel in horror. It was advertised as a health food for infants and invalids, in order to “build sturdy limbs, good teeth and a strong constitution”, so maybe it wasn’t really about the taste (Auckland Star 25/06/1925: 9). Nowadays, of course, such results would more often be obtained from calcium rich, often dairy-based, foods rather than bone marrow.

Stoneware bottle of Virol bone marrow paste found in Christchurch and a modern bone marrow dish. Yum? Images: J. Garland and Flavour Boulevard

Stoneware bottle of Virol bone marrow paste found in Christchurch (left) and a modern dish of roasted bone marrow (right). Erm, yum? Images: J. Garland and Flavour Boulevard.

Other unusual foodstuffs stand out as much for their innovation and unexpectedly early existence as for their probable bad taste. We tend to think of processed foods as being something of a recent invention, yet the 19^thcentury had its fair-share of such products (Wood 1974: 20). One such example found in Christchurch was Maclaren’s Imperial Cheese, a Canadian-manufactured ‘spreadable cheese’ from the early 1900s (next week’s post is going to look at this product in more detail; Badgely 1998). Maclaren’s, which is still produced by the Kraft Foods Group, was initially made from ground cheddar, and enjoyed immense popularity. It’s described in turn of the century advertisements as the “cheese of the hour” (Hawera & Normanby Star 16/12/1904: 3) and “one of the most appetising luxuries [that] the world produces” (Press 5/01/1907: 10). That last one may have been a slight exaggeration…

Maclaren’s Imperial Cheese: then and now. Images: J. Garland & Clockwork Lemon blog.

Although they provide an incomplete picture of Victorian tastes, the types of food-related artefacts I’ve mentioned here can still offer us fascinating insights into the lives of 19^th century people and the relevance of those lives – and eating habits – to the modern world. Despite their ability to make us (well, me) recoil in disgust, these products can still challenge our preconceptions of food in society and culture, our own included. Most of all, though, these artefacts offer us an almost tangible taste connection between our own experiences and those of our forebears in this city, and the rest of the world. It may be a foul tasting connection, but it’s a connection nonetheless.

Jessie Garland

References

Auckand Star. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Badgely, K. 1998. Maclaren, Alexander Ferguson. Dictionary of Canadian Biography. [online] Available at www.biographi.ca

Feilding Star. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Hawera and Normanby Star. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Otago Witness. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Press. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

Wood, J. A. 1974. Victorian New Zealanders. A. H. & A. W. Reed Ltd, Wellington.

The difficulties of dating #2: good things take time

Posted on 8 November 2013 by Jessie Garland

Following on from last week’s blog, today’s post takes a look at how we date ceramic artefacts, specifically the plates, cups, bowls and saucers we find so often in Christchurch. Many of the issues I mentioned last week with regard to glass bottle dating also apply to ceramics (and all artefacts, really), but there are some that we encounter more frequently depending on the type of material we’re looking at. With 19^th century pottery, one of the more common obstacles is the difficulty of dating artefacts from the style of their decoration, along with the ever-present problem of ‘time lag’ (more on this later).

Ceramics are an interesting challenge when it comes to artefact dating, since it’s quite difficult to use details of manufacture to figure out when they were made. Some vessels have maker’s marks or ‘backmarks’ stamped or printed on the back with the name of the pottery manufacturer (and these are subject to all the same problems as with bottle marks), but often we may not actually find that piece of the plate or teacup. Other times, frustratingly, we find artefacts without any mark at all.

Examples of maker’s marks found in Christchurch. Left to right: P B & H, or Pinder Bourne & Hope, a company operating out of Burslem, Staffordshire, from 1851-1862; P B & Co or Pinder Bourne & Co, the successors to Pinder Bourne & Hope, who were in business from 1862-1882; J & G Meakin, who were manufacturing earthenware from the 1850s until 2000, although this particular mark was in use from 1912 onwards. Images: J. Garland.

In these cases, dating the fragments of pottery that we have is tricky, since many 19^th century ceramics don’t have very much visible evidence for dateable changes in manufacturing technology. This is thanks to the actual methods of manufacture as well as the fact that most of the notable developments in ceramic manufacturing occurred in the late 1700s and early 1800s, leaving production techniques largely unchanged for most of the 19^th century. Unfortunately for the archaeologist working with material from the 1850s onwards (as in Christchurch), a date range of 80 to a 100 years for a site is pretty much the same as no date at all.

Most of the developments in ceramic production that occurred prior to the 1820s and 1830s were to do with refining the mixture of the clay and gradually moving from cream coloured wares (left) to whiter pieces (middle). By the middle of the 19th century, almost all earthenware ceramics were white, not cream. Other distinctive types of pottery, such as pearlware (right), which used a tinted glaze to imitate Chinese porcelain, fell out of fashion in the early decades of the 19th century. By the the time of Christchurch’s European settlement in the 1850s, ceramic production was dominated by relatively cheap white bodied, transfer print (e.g. Willow pattern) decorated pottery – the type we still use today. Not so useful for dating! Images: J. Garland.

Floral patterns like this Bouquet plate, found in Christchurch, with decoration in the center of the plate as well as on the rim (or marly, as it's known)

Floral patterns like this Bouquet plate, found in Christchurch, with decoration in the centre of the plate as well as on the rim (or marly, as it’s known) were produced from 1784 until 1869, with a peak in popularity from 1833 to 1849 (Samford 1997). Although the maker’s mark on this plate tells us that it was made between 1851 and 1862, we’d be hard pressed to get that manufacturing date from the pattern alone. Image: J. Garland.

Alternatively, we can try to use changes in decoration and style to date artefacts to specific decades. Of course (because an archaeologist’s job is never easy!) there are problems with this as well. Although there are documented changes in the popularity of different types of decoration and different styles of pattern over time, many of these fashion trends also occurred in the first half of the 19^th century (Samford 1997). For those of us working in Christchurch, that’s not really that helpful. Much of the information about ceramic fashions is also specific to Britain or America and those fashions weren’t necessarily popular at the same times or even at all in New Zealand (although there are some exceptions; Woods 2011). This is especially relevant when we take into account the time it would take for new patterns and styles to not only make it to New Zealand, but become popular here, particularly when we consider the distances they had to travel.

Left to right: a plate decorated with the Asiatic Pheasant pattern, fragment of a plate decorated with the Rhine pattern, and pieces of Cable and Willow pattern bowls.

Left to right: a plate decorated with the Asiatic Pheasants pattern, fragment of a plate decorated with the Rhine pattern, and pieces of Cable and Willow pattern bowls. Artefacts decorated with popular patterns like these, some of which have been used continuously for roughly 200 years (Willow), are almost impossible to date from the pattern alone (unless there are variations on the pattern or imperfections in the transfer itself), particularly in the context of post-1850 sites. Images: J. Garland.

As with glass bottles, almost all the ceramic artefacts found on 19^th century archaeological sites in Christchurch (and New Zealand) were made in England and Scotland and imported into New Zealand (mostly from Staffordshire in England). As I mentioned last week, this means that when we’re figuring out a date for these artefacts, we have to take into account the time it would have taken for these objects to reach New Zealand in the first place. This ‘import delay’ (the time involved in the storage and transportation of goods from overseas manufacturers to Victorian Christchurch) is just one of the components of a broader issue in archaeological dating known as ‘time lag’, which I touched on briefly last week with the discussion of bottle reuse and an artefact’s ‘uselife’.

Sketch of Josiah Wedgwood's first pottery factory in

Sketch of the Ivy House works, the first pottery factory opened by Josiah Wedgwood, in 1759, in Burslem, Staffordshire, along with a portrait of the man himself. Josiah Wedgwood (the grandfather of Charles Darwin) is probably the most famous Staffordshire potter and his brand the most well known, but some of you may be familiar with other names from the region, such as William Copeland, Josiah Spode, John Doulton or William Adams. Image: (left) The Potteries, (right) Wikimedia Commons.

Time lag is a phrase used by archaeologists to encompass every stage in an artefact’s life, from its manufacture to its eventual disposal (and entry into the archaeological record). One archaeological model for time lag includes the amount of time an item might spend sitting on a shelf at a wholesaler and/or retailer and transportation between these places, along with the actual uselife of the object and the potential for the curation (i.e. heirlooms) and recycling (Adams 2003: 41).

As well as coming from overseas, with all of the delays involved in that, many ceramic vessels are intended to be used over and over again for an indefinite period of time. To add to this, many people in the past may have kept ceramic vessels as heirlooms or display pieces for a very long time. I know that my family still owns plates and teacups that originally belonged to my granny – if we were to throw them out now, in 2013, their original date of manufacture would have absolutely nothing to do with the date at which they were discarded, or the period for which they were in use.

A discarded ceramic plate, discovered in situ at a site in Christchurch. Image: K Webb.

A discarded ceramic plate, in situ at a site in Christchurch. Image: K Webb.

It’s not all hopeless though. As with the bottles, manufacturer’s marks are a good place to start and some archaeologists have come up with estimates for the amount of time we should be accounting for when we date the table wares and tea wares we find on 19^th century sites. The discussion and method behind those estimates is way, way too detailed to go into here, but, in an American context, the average duration of time between an object’s manufacture and discard has been calculated to be anything from 15-25 years (Adams 2003). Potentially more or less, depending on the characteristics of the site in question and a wealth of different variables. Unfortunately, this is an American estimate, so we have to be careful applying it to New Zealand sites, but it certainly makes apparent the caution that’s necessary when using the date of artefact manufacture to determine the age of an archaeological site or assemblage.

Although I’ve focused on ceramics in the post, the issues I’ve mentioned are ones that apply to all material culture recovered from archaeological sites – shoes, clay pipes, stoneware jars, nails, bolts, matchboxes, etc. It’s never just as simple as looking at an object and knowing where it came from and when it was made. As I mentioned last week (and will mention again, because it’s important), the when and the where are only truly useful and interesting when they’re joined by the how and the why and the who.

Jessie Garland

References

Adams, W. H., 2003. Dating Historical Artefacts: The Importance of Understanding Time Lag in the Acquisition, Curation, Use, and Disposal of Artefacts. Historical Archaeology 37(2): 38-64.

Samford, P., 1997. Response to a Market: Dating English Underglaze Transfer-Printed Wares. Historical Archaeology 31(2): 1-30.

Woods, Naomi. 2011. Pakeha Ceramics as Dating Tools. Archaeology in New Zealand 55(2).

The Potteries, n.d.. A History of Stoke-on-Trent. [online] Available at http://www.thepotteries.org.

Christchurch uncovered

Exploring Christchurch's past through archaeology

Tag Archives: ceramics

In which the emanation of effluvia is offensive to one’s senses

Oh, you pretty things!

A few of our favourite things…

Food, glorious food!

The difficulties of dating #2: good things take time