Below the belt: part 2

Last week on the blog we introduced you to the 1881 South Belt sewer beneath Moorhouse Avenue: how it was built, how it got blocked, and how recently as part of SCIRT’s horizontal infrastructure rebuild program, their Downer delivery team and sub-contractors Donaldson Civil fixed the blockage. On this week’s blog installment, we look at what we found both above and below the sewer. Enjoy!

Whenever we dig down into the road to repair or replace damaged horizontal infrastructure we always find what I sometimes call ‘road trifle’ – but with layers of asphalt and aggregate instead of layers of custard and fruit. Actually probably more of a ‘road crème brulee’ – as out modern road surfaces, like fancy French desserts have a hard top we have to break through first. At the best of times it’s almost impossible for us to tell whether any such layers exposed in the side of such trenches are of the 19th century period – as we know that most city roads have been rebuilt many times in the past. This one had a layer of soft friable concrete below the asphalt, which was a bit different. Image: Hamish Williams

Whenever anyone digs down into a road to repair or replace damaged horizontal infrastructure we always find what I like to call ‘road trifle’ – but with layers of asphalt and aggregate instead of layers of custard and fruit. Actually probably more of a ‘road crème brulee’ – as our modern road surfaces (like fancy French desserts) have a hard top to break through first. At the best of times it’s almost impossible to tell whether any such layers exposed in the side of trenches are of the 19th century period, as we know that most city roads have been rebuilt many times in the past. This one had a layer of soft friable concrete below the asphalt, which was a bit different. Image: Hamish Williams.

They didn’t have any mechanical excavators back in 1881, which means that the Drainage Board contractors had to dig the sewer trench by hand, using pick, spade, and shovel. As well as digging, they also had to do cutting – we found mixed in with the clay as backfilled atop the sewer lots of monster sized tree stumps and tree roots with saw cut ends. You can see some of these bits of stumps at the left of this photo. It’s not uncommon for us to find evidence of prehistoric swamp vegetation well preserved in the anaerobic clay at great depth below the city. Image: Hamish Williams.

They didn’t have any mechanical excavators back in 1881, which means that the Drainage Board contractors had to dig the sewer trench by hand, using pick, spade, and shovel. As well as digging, they also had to do cutting – we found lots of monster-sized tree stumps and tree roots with saw-cut ends mixed in with clay that had been used to backfill the sewer after construction. You can see some of these bits of stumps at the left of this photo. It’s not uncommon for us to find evidence of prehistoric swamp vegetation well preserved in the anaerobic clay at great depth below the city. Image: Hamish Williams.

We didn’t find much by way of artefacts in the backfill atop the sewer, with the exception of broken taper bricks. These bricks had evidently fractured because of the large clinkerous inclusions contained within. Useless for construction, they had been left by the bricklayer aside the crown arch.  Image: Hamish Williams

We didn’t find much in the way of artefacts in the backfill atop the sewer, with the exception of broken taper bricks. These bricks had evidently fractured because of the large clinkerous inclusions contained within. Useless for construction, they were apparently left by the bricklayer beside the crown arch. Image: Hamish Williams.

Found in close association with these broken taper bricks was a small red pebble with an attractive white stripe. This is by definition not an artefact (it was not made or modified by humans) but is a manuport (it is a natural object transported from its original location and is otherwise unmodified). This pretty pebble I reckon must have been picked up somewhere by one of the sewer gang boys back in the day before it was lost on the job, maybe falling out a pocket.  I can’t think that such an awesome find would have been deliberately discarded, unless perhaps the peer pressure of a ‘manly man’ on the sewer gang who collects pretty pebbles in his spare time was a contributing factor? Archaeology can never answer such questions for us – but it’s nice to ponder them all the same. Image: Hamish Williams

Found in close association with these broken taper bricks was a small red pebble with an attractive white stripe. This is by definition not an artefact (it was not made or modified by humans) but is a manuport (it is a natural object transported from its original location and is otherwise unmodified). I reckon this pretty pebble must have been picked up somewhere by one of the sewer gang boys back in the day before it was lost on the job, maybe falling out of a pocket. I can’t think that such an awesome find would have been deliberately discarded, unless perhaps the peer pressure of a ‘manly man’ on the sewer gang who collects pretty pebbles in his spare time was a contributing factor? Archaeology can never answer such questions for us – but it’s nice to ponder them all the same. Image: Hamish Williams.

P5250009-for-web

I thought that perhaps at depth we would find in situ 19th century trench shoring timbers, which would have had to have had to have been put in place to stop the sides of the trench collapsing (today we mostly use steel trench shields, but if we have to go super deep, sometimes interlocking sheet piles). This was not to be however, but we did find in the outer faces of the concrete sewer invert the casts from where these would have once been. 200 mm x 100mm timber set some 200 mm apart were evidently used to support the walls of the trench. These had been pulled out and presumably used to line the next stretch while the concrete was still wet. Images: Hamish Williams.

I thought that perhaps at depth we would find in situ 19th century trench shoring timbers, which would have been put in place to stop the sides of the trench collapsing (today we mostly use steel trench shields, but the work has to go super deep, sometimes interlocking sheet piles). This was not to be, but we did find the casts from where these would have once been in the outer faces of the concrete sewer invert. Pieces of 200 mm x 100 mm timber set some 200 mm apart were evidently used to support the walls of the trench. These had been pulled out and presumably used to line the next stretch while the concrete was still wet. Images: Hamish Williams.

Working in an area with a high water table was a challenge while we were working on fixing the sewer, even though we had dewatering system of pumps set up to make our subterranean works area as dry as possible. How did they manage this back in the day when they built the sewer? Evidently with some difficulty – at the start of construction, the Drainage Board reported that the [sewer] works on the South Belt are in very troublesome ground, with much water and running sand, and the progress is consequently slow (Press 22.2.1881:3). They had pumps, yes, but these coal powered steam driven pumping devices were probably not as effective as the diesel powered pumps we have available today. They were clever however – first installing a line of earthenware pipes within a smaller gravel filled trench, which we hope would have removed a great deal of the water away from where they were pouring concrete and laying bricks – presumably to a pumping collection point further down the trench line. You can just make out this 19th century dewatering system in place below the concrete invert in this photo. Image: Pieter White.

Working in an area with a high water table was a challenge while working on fixing the sewer, even though there was a dewatering system of pumps set up to make the subterranean works area as dry as possible. How did they manage this back in the day when they built the sewer? Evidently with some difficulty – at the start of construction, the Drainage Board reported that “the [sewer] works on the South Belt are in very troublesome ground, with much water and running sand, and the progress is consequently slow” (Press 22/2/1881:3). They had pumps, yes, but these coal-powered steam-driven pumping devices were probably not as effective as the diesel powered pumps we have available today. They were clever, however – first installing a line of earthenware pipes within a smaller gravel filled trench, which we hope would have removed a great deal of the water away from where they were pouring concrete and laying bricks – presumably to a pumping collection point further down the trench line. You can just make out this 19th century dewatering system in place below the concrete invert in this photo. Image: Pieter White.

Not surprisingly, when we removed one of these pipes it was choked with liquefaction silt. Image: Hamish Williams.

Not surprisingly, when one of these pipes was removed SCIRT found that it was choked with liquefaction silt. Image: Hamish Williams.

A very happy Ty Laskey from Donaldson Civil with one of these earthenware dewatering pipes we managed to recover intact. Unlike earthenware pipes for sewerage applications which are always glazed, these particular pipes were unglazed, and had been laid dry; that is to say without any cement mortar between the individual pipes to allow for the free infiltration of water. Image: Hamish Williams.

A very happy Ty Laskey from Donaldson Civil with one of these earthenware dewatering pipes that was recovered intact. Unlike earthenware pipes for sewerage applications, which are always glazed, these particular pipes were unglazed, and had been laid dry; that is to say without any cement mortar between the individual pipes to allow for the free infiltration of water. Image: Hamish Williams.

Many thanks to SCIRT,  Downer and Donaldson Civil for a job well done, and especially to Moorhouse Avenue businesses and motorists for their patience while SCIRT has been working on fixing this and other damaged horizontal infrastructure in the area.

Hamish Williams

Below the belt: part 1

This week on the blog we take you on a journey down the South Belt sewer, one of Christchurch’s many 19th century wastewater sewers. Located deep below the east-bound lane of Moorhouse Avenue and more than a kilometre in length, construction of this sewer began in 1881 and was completed in early 1882. Recently, as part of SCIRT’s horizontal infrastructure rebuild program, their Downer delivery team and sub-contractors Donaldson Civil replaced a 30 metre long upstream section of this sewer where a blockage had occurred. In this part 1 of a 2 part sewer archaeology special – we look at how this sewer was built, how it got blocked, and how it got fixed. Enjoy!

Before we got digging, we put a sewer inspection robot down into the sewer, the footage it recorded helped us to determine the location of the blockage, and thus where to dig. Image: Hamish Williams.

Before the digging started, the crew put a sewer inspection robot down into the sewer. The footage it recorded helped to determine the location of the blockage, and thus where to dig. Image: Hamish Williams.

We dug down more than 2.5 metres to reach the brick crown arch, downstream of the blockage location. It was neat to see a thin smear of cement mortar had been applied to the top of the arch – where the bricklayer more than 130 years ago had cleaned off his trowel. Image: Hamish Williams.

The team dug down more than 2.5 metres to reach the brick crown arch, downstream of the blockage location. It was neat to see a thin smear of cement mortar had been applied to the top of the arch – where the bricklayer more than 130 years ago had cleaned off his trowel. Image: Hamish Williams.

Using a concrete saw, we cut through the crown arch...Image: Hamish Williams.

Using a concrete saw, they cut through the crown arch…

...and were most surprised to find a 30+ metre long sewer snake trapped inside! This snake (actually a high pressure sewer cleaning jet) had got stuck some time ago while trying to swim upstream. There was no flow in the sewer at all, only 60 mm of stinky sewage water. Images: Hamish Williams.

…and were most surprised to find a 30+ metre long sewer snake trapped inside! This snake (actually a high pressure sewer cleaning jet) had got stuck some time ago while trying to swim upstream. There was no flow in the sewer at all, only 60 mm of stinky sewage water. Images: Hamish Williams.

Of an oviform or ‘egg’ shape, the base of the sewer (that’s what the invert is called in pipelaying speak) was made of unreinforced concrete. The upper crown arch was formed of specially shaped taper bricks, 13 of which were required to span the arch. In the photo on the left you can see the resin impregnated fabric liner that was installed inside the sewer circa 2009, and at right one of engineer William Clark’s original 1878 oviform sewer design drawings. The sewerage system that he designed for the Christchurch Drainage Board became fully operational in early September 1882, and many parts of this system are still in use today. Images: (at left) Hamish Williams and at right, after Clark (1878) Drainage Scheme for Christchurch and the Suburbs.

Of an oviform or ‘egg’ shape, the base of the sewer (that’s what the invert is called in pipelaying speak) was made of unreinforced concrete. The upper crown arch was formed of specially shaped taper bricks, 13 of which were required to span the arch. In the photo on the left you can see the resin impregnated fabric liner that was installed inside the sewer circa 2009, and at right one of engineer William Clark’s original 1878 oviform sewer design drawings. The sewerage system that he designed for the Christchurch Drainage Board became fully operational in early September 1882, and many parts of this system are still in use today. Images: (left) Hamish Williams, (right) after Clark (1878) Drainage Scheme for Christchurch and the Suburbs.

A section of this liner was cut out and used as a mould to custom make two PVC plastic transition pieces, as we were replacing the damaged section of sewer with pipe of a circular shape. Image: Hamish Williams.

A section of this liner was cut out and used as a mould to custom make two PVC plastic transition pieces, as the damaged section of sewer was replaced with pipe of a circular shape. Image: Hamish Williams.

A special wire cutting saw was brought in to make a clean cut through the sewer, so we could firmly fix the downstream transition piece to it, before this join was encased in reinforced concrete. Future archaeologists should have no issues determining when this concrete was poured! Images: Kane Reihana (at left) and Hamish Williams (at right).

A special wire cutting saw was brought in to make a clean cut through the sewer, so the downstream transition piece could be firmly fixed to it, before this join was encased in reinforced concrete. Future archaeologists should have no issues determining when this concrete was poured! Images: (left) Kane Reihana and (right) Hamish Williams.

When we got to the blockage, our suspicions about the cause of the blockage were confirmed. Although the sewer itself had not suffered any form of structural collapse, liquefaction silt had entered the sewer through cracks in the brickwork and had constricted the liner, blocking the flow of sewage. Images: Kane Reihana (at left) and Hamish Williams (at right).

When the blockage was reached, suspicions about the cause of the blockage were confirmed. Although the sewer itself had not suffered any form of structural collapse, liquefaction silt had entered the sewer through cracks in the brickwork and had constricted the liner, blocking the flow of sewage. Images: (left) Kane Reihana  and (right) Hamish Williams.

Ben McConochie fits the upstream transition piece in place with epoxy mortar before the concrete is poured. Image: Hamish Williams.

Ben McConochie fits the upstream transition piece in place with epoxy mortar before the concrete is poured. Image: Hamish Williams.

All done! Image: Hamish Williams.

All done! Image: Hamish Williams.

Many thanks to SCIRT, Downer and Donaldson Civil for a job well done, and especially to Moorhouse Avenue businesses and motorists for their patience while SCIRT has been working on fixing this and other damaged horizontal infrastructure in the area.

Hamish Williams.

The dilapidatedly grand villa

This week we are treating you to a photographic tale of the life of a Cantabrian abode. Come with us now on a journey through time and space, to the wonderful world of dilapidated Victorian villas…

FOH

Between 1904 and 1905 Mr. Andrew McNeil Paterson, a salesman, built this rather grand residence. In its former glory the house had a total of eight rooms, including a scullery, pantry and bathroom. Image: Kirsa Webb.

dining

Mr. Paterson’s dining room with faceted bay windows. Image: Kirsa Webb.

cornice

Detail of decorative cornice in the dining room. Image: Kirsa Webb.

P1060130

The perforated ceiling rose in the dining room. Perforated ceiling roses helped ventilate rooms with fireplaces. This one was the most decorative ceiling rose that remained in the villa. Image: Peter Mitchell.

turret

The turret bay window of the drawing room. The door on the left led to the modern addition of a bathroom, where the original verandah would have run. Image: Kirsa Webb.

P1060132

Detail of unperforated ceiling rose in drawing room. Image: Peter Mitchell.

Untitled-1

Original perforated ceiling rose in the hallway. Image: Peter Mitchell.

P5050081

Ornate cornice detail of the original hallway. Image: Kirsa Webb.

P1060242

Detail of a perforated ceiling rose in a bedroom, which was significantly smaller than the other remaining ceiling roses in the house. Image: Peter Mitchell.

Despite its grandiose design, Mr. Paterson soon grew tired of the villa and sold the house just four years later. Over the next couple of decades the dwelling was home to a collection of different occupants. However, as was common practice in Christchurch during the Depression, this ornate villa was eventually divided up into a jigsaw puzzle of single bedroom flats.

plan

2011 plan of Mr. Paterson’s former residence divided into four flats. Image: Francesca Bradley.

And it was this jigsaw of four derelict flats Underground Overground Archaeology had to piece together to bring you the story of Mr. Andrew McNeil Paterson and his once grandiose residence.

Francesca Bradley

An architectural interlude

We’re taking a short break between perfume posts this week and veering off in another direction entirely to present you with a photographic essay on one of the historic buildings we’ve recorded recently (but never fear, we’ll be back on course next week!).

The building, a Victorian villa,  appears to have been built in 1899 by the delightfully named Matilda Sneesby (very Roald Dahl-esque), wife of Christchurch printer William Sneesby. They lived there with their family until the 1920s. The building itself has some fascinating architectural features and additions, laid our for your perusal in the photographs below.

North elevation of 34 Harvey Terrace with bull nosed veranda, cast iron laces work, chamfered timber posts, timber fretwork brackets. The east end has been walled in.

North-facing entrance to the house, with bullnose veranda, cast iron lace work, chamfered timber posts and timber fretwork brackets. The east end has been walled in, as you can see. Image: P. Mitchell.

2.Bay window on the east elevation. Identical bay windows have been found on other houses suggesting that they were available pre-built or as a kitset (not sure of wording for this).

Bay window on the east elevation. Identical bay windows have been found on other houses. Image: P. Mitchell.

Fireplace removed from the parlour.

Beautiful fireplace removed from the parlour. As you can see, the chimney piece has been made to look like black marble, which was, of course, far more expensive than a wooden imitation. A manufacturer’s trademark – a single Scotch thistle bloom with “REGISTERED / TRADEMARK” around it – was found on the back, suggesting possible Scottish origins. Image: P. Mitchell.

Hallway arches like these were used to separate the ‘public’ and ‘private’ areas of houses. The front rooms of a dwelling were considered public because these were the rooms most likely used when entertaining guests.

Hallway arches like these were used to separate the ‘public’ and ‘private’ areas of houses. The front rooms of a dwelling were considered public because these were the rooms intended for entertaining guests. Image: P. Mitchell.

Traditional moulded skirting boards and architraves. These went out of fashion in the early 20th century as they became more expensive to produce. Note the child’s scrawl. Touches like this remind us that these buildings were people’s homes

Traditional moulded skirting boards and architraves. These went out of fashion in the early 20th century. Note the child’s scrawl on the wall above. Touches like this remind us that these buildings were people’s homes as well as the architectural remnants of a bygone era. Image: P. Mitchell.

Another ceiling rose, in another room.

A ceiling rose. This house was unusual in that there were three identical ceiling roses – of this design – in three different rooms. Typically, they vary from room to room. Image: P. Mitchell.

Ceiling roses. 34 Harvey Terrace was unusual in that there were three identical ceiling roses in three different rooms.

Another, slightly different ceiling rose, found in one the smaller rooms of the house. Image: P. Mitchell.

his double window was at the south end of the Phase 1 (original) build. The window on the right was boarded up when the house was reconfigured at some time in the early 20th century

This double window was at the south end of the original part of the house. The window on the right was boarded up when the house was reconfigured at some time in the early 20th century. Image: P. Mitchell.

The south wall of this room held a fireplace or coal range associated with the kitchen which had been removed. The kitchen is most likely to have been the room beyond the opening, which was still being used as a kitchen in 2011.

The south wall of this room held a fireplace or coal range associated with the kitchen that had been removed. The original kitchen is most likely to have been the room beyond the opening, still used as such in 2011 (albeit somewhat different in appearance). Image: P. Mitchell.

This wall is something of a puzzle. The ceiling shows evidence of a wall having been removed, and the wall shows evidence of a door having been removed. The wall was probably removed first, and the wall relined. Then the door was filled in at a later time. The main hallway lies beyond the filled in door way. The wainscoting was not original.

This wall is something of a puzzle. The ceiling shows evidence of a wall having been removed, and the wall shows evidence of a door having been removed. The wall was probably removed first, and relined. Then the door was filled in at a later time. The main hallway lies beyond the filled in door way. The wainscoting was not original. Image: P. Mitchell.

Coffee: nemesis of tea, friend to chicory, moral downfall of sheep and lifeblood of archaeologists

It must be said that, here at Underground Overground Archaeology, we have something of a coffee problem. With a (very) few exceptions we’re an office of hardened coffee drinkers, ranging from one-cup-a-day habits to the occasional and somewhat obscene four-or-five-cups-a-day problem. We frequent our local coffee shop (the fantastic Vivace on Tuam Street) so much that the staff sort of just laugh kindly at us when we come in and order more coffee (and muffins!) than one office should reasonably be expected to consume. On the rare and terrible mornings when someone discovers that the coffee is, in fact, all gone, the discovery is met with a chorus of despair and rapid scramble to “get coffee, get coffee, get coffee”, lest we release the ravening caffeine deprived beast lurking within us all.

Everyday is a job for coffee.

Everyday is a job for coffee in this office. Image: Imgarcade

It’s a problem. Not an uncommon one in modern society, though, is it? A caffeine addiction seems almost par for the course in today’s bustling workplaces and busy lives. Coffee drinking is everywhere and with it comes the rise of coffee cultures, from the social and economic ubiquity of Starbucks to the hordes of hipsters congregating in fair trade organic coffee houses.

It’s not, however, an exclusively modern phenomenon, as many might assume. We tend, I think, to imagine tea as the hot beverage of choice in Victorian society and it was, just not exclusively so. Coffee, and the ritual of coffee drinking, was also a well-established part of 19th century life. Coffee houses (or ‘palaces’) were not uncommon establishments in major cities: in Christchurch over the years the city saw the Victoria Coffee House and Reading Room in Lyttelton, the Avon Bank Coffee House, the Old Post Office Coffee House and Uncle Tom’s Coffee House on High Street, among others. There were even coffee carts! Interestingly, as an aside, most of these houses appear to have offered food and sometimes lodging as well, with a notable number also involved in the temperance movement of the late 19th century (Lyttelton Times 19/12/1860: 6, 14/12/1861: 1, 21/12/1861: 1).

Coffee jacket and advertisement for the Victoria Coffee House in Lyttelton. Image

Coffee jacket and advertisement for the Victoria Coffee House in Lyttelton. Image: New Zealand Herald 13/06/1903: 6 and Lyttelton Times 8/07/1857: 8.

Along with the coffee houses, numerous articles can be found in contemporary newspapers on the subject of coffee drinking in 19th century society. Some discuss the proper preparations for a cup of coffee, the best culinary accompaniments and how to distinguish the good coffee from the bad. Others mention the names of famous people who swore by the drink, from Voltaire to Frederick the Great, in addition to numerous accounts of the benefits and the dangers of coffee consumption. In fact, in some sources, discussions and accounts of coffee and those who drank it are all but indistinguishable from similar discussions in the modern media (including an article on guarana as a rival to coffee, for all you V & Red Bull drinkers out there).

A selection of historical articles on coffee. Images:

A selection of historical articles on coffee. Images: Auckland Star 28/06/1916: 8Bruce Herald 8/11/1889: 5, 1/08/1899: 2Star 1/04/1905: 3, Taranaki Herald 29/05/1891: 4

Coffee, the moral downfall of Abyssinian sheep. Image:

Coffee, the moral downfall of Abyssinian sheep. Image: Evening Post 23/06/1923: 23.

On the other hand, the article suggesting that the ingestion of coffee plants led to the moral downfall of previously sober and well-conducted Abyssian sheep is perhaps more obviously a product of its time (I could not make that up, I swear). The same goes for the article discussing coffee as a substitute afternoon drink for the “once common absinthe”, or the one comparing the “muddy and yellowish” skin of coffee drinkers to the “withered, dried up and old look” given to tea drinkers. Another description of coffee drinkers employed the terminology of ‘coffee drunkeness’ and ended with a statement many modern coffee dependents may identify with:  “the victims suffered so seriously they dared not abandon the drinking of coffee for fear of death” (Mataura Ensign 8/10/1896: 4).

Article on 'coffee drunkenness' from 1896. Image:

Article on ‘coffee drunkenness’ from 1896. Image: Mataura Ensign 8/10/1896: 4.

In all seriousness, though, it’s clear from historical sources that coffee drinking was a common habit in 19th century Christchurch, and one not so far removed from modern culture as we might think. It’s interesting, then, to see how it is represented in the archaeological record (and to think about how it might be represented today). As with so many other consumables, coffee is only visible indirectly through the various objects used to store, prepare and drink it in the past, and the places (specifically, coffee houses) at which it was consumed. We haven’t yet excavated the site of any coffee houses in the city, so in Christchurch, our evidence seems to come down to two types of objects: coffee cups, or ‘cans’ as they are known, and coffee and chicory bottles.

Coffee cans are mug-like ceramic drinking vessels, with straight sides and lower, flatter bases than teacups, made from porcelain or earthenware. They’re predominantly associated with coffee drinking from the late 18th century onwards (Brooks 2005): advertisements from the Victorian era make special reference to coffee cups as an item distinct from tea cups and saucers (Lyttelton Times 14/11/1857: 7, Observer 22/08/1885: 4). Here in Christchurch, we find them in a variety of sizes, although they have a tendency to be larger than tea wares. They’re often decorated with transfer prints, sponged decoration or gilt banding, although they’re less likely to be found as part of an identically patterned set than teacups (this may be in part because coffee cans don’t seem to have had accompanying saucers).

A ceramic coffee can found in Christchurch. Image: J. Garland.

A ceramic coffee can found in Christchurch. Image: J. Garland.

When viewed from a broad perspective, coffee cans indicate a very clear delineation between the rituals of tea drinking and the ritual of coffee drinking. They suggest (through the quantities found on sites) that, however popular it was, coffee drinking remained less common than tea drinking in the 19th century. They may, eventually, be able to provide us with some indication of the types of people drinking coffee: whether they were predominantly male or female, if age or national origin was a factor or if class and social status played a part. As individual objects, however, coffee cans don’t actually tell us a whole lot, other than indicating the probable presence of a coffee drinker in a household. They certainly don’t tell us much about the ways in coffee was prepared or drunk (i.e. at breakfast, in social gatherings), or the types of coffee consumed by people in 19th century Christchurch.

In fact, there’s little in the way of archaeological information on the types of coffee available to the 19th century consumer, although there’s a surfeit of brands and types listed and advertised in the historical record. Historical examples include beans and grounds, sold by brands like Crease’s A1 Coffee, Webster’s Coffee, Dragon Coffee or Brown, Barrett & Co’s Excelsior Coffee. By contrast, the only archaeological evidence for the coffee itself comes from the coffee and chicory bottles occasionally found in Christchurch (and elsewhere).

Symington's coffee & chicory bottle found in Christchurch. Image: J. Garland.

Symington’ & Co’s coffee & chicory bottle found in Christchurch. Image: J. Garland.

Coffee and chicory was an essence, sold as thick syrup and used as a form of instant coffee during the 19th and early 20th centuries (Christchurch City Libraries 2014). The chicory, a plant root, was used to augment the bitter ‘coffee’ taste of the syrup, and the concoction appears to have been relatively popular in its time. Chicory was not always easy to come by in New Zealand: most of it was actually grown here in Canterbury and supplied to the rest of the country (Thames Star 25/01/1893: 4). Interestingly, most of the coffee and chicory bottles we find on Christchurch sites were produced by Symington & Co, an Edinburgh based company, rather than local chicory farmers such as Mr. W. Roberts, who owned the Canterbury Chicory Works in Lincoln, or Edwin Trent, based in Templeton (of Trent Brothers fame). As it turns out, people in other parts of the country turned to other ingredients when they couldn’t get their hands on chicory, local or international: unfortunately, in one case, the substitute used turned out to be turnip (Thames Star 25/01/1893: 4). Coffee and turnip? Mmm, no thanks.

Workers on Mr W. Roberts' chicory farm, Spreydon, 1905. Image: Christchurch City Libraries

Workers on Mr W. Roberts’ chicory farm, Spreydon, 1905. Image: Christchurch City Libraries, File Reference: PhotoCD 10, IMG0037 

All things considered, it seems that despite the use of such unconventional flavour supplements (and the apparent Victorian concern with the moral welfare of sheep), it’s not difficult to find parallels between the culture of coffee drinking in 19th century Christchurch and that of the present day. In fact, there’s far more of them than I was expecting when I first started looking into this. Coffee houses are a common and integral part of our everyday lives here and now and we regularly see headlines and articles debating the health benefits of coffee, the best techniques for its preparation and the characteristics of a good flat white or cappuccino. We still have specific cups from which to sip our delicious caffeinated beverages and, while chicory is no longer a common addition, some of us still take great delight in adding various flavoured syrups to our coffee. And, no doubt, much of the information available on the subject in the modern media will be as entertaining to future archaeologists and historians as the Victorian newspapers have been for me.

Jessie Garland

References

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

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

Brooks, A., 2005. An Archaeological Guide to British Ceramics in Australia: 1788-1901.  The Australasian Society for Historical Archaeology, Sydney.

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

Christchurch City Libraries, 2014. Chicory: an early Christchurch industry. [online] Available at www.christchurchcitylibraries.com

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

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

Mataura Ensign. [online] Available at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz

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

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

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