A story about many things

Allow me to introduce you to Henrietta Madoline Yaldwyn (née Yeend). It’s 1883 and Henrietta and her husband, William, and their four children have just moved to Christchurch (BDM Online n.d., Star (Christchurch) 3/5/1883: 3). This was but the latest in a succession of moves for Henrietta. She was born in Melbourne (to English parents) and grew up between that city and Hobart (McCallum 2025). By 1863, the Yeend family, including Henrietta, was living in Dunedin, and it was here that she met William Butler Yaldwyn (Otago Daily Times 3/9/1863: 7). Henrietta and William married in 1868 (McCallum 2025). A few years later they spent some time in England (where William was born), before returning to New Zealand, living first in Dunedin and then in the lower North Island (Evening Star 24/2/1875: 3, Otago Daily Times 25/3/1871: 1, Star (Christchurch) 3/5/1883: 3). Regrettably, William, an accountant, went bankrupt in 1878 – a not uncommon occurrence for 19th century colonial settlers (Evening Post 7/3/1878: 3). 

After William had a stint in government employment in the lower North Island, the family found their way to Christchurch (Star (Christchurch) 3/5/1883: 3). By 1884, Henrietta and William had taken up residence in a rather impressive-looking newly built house on a quarter-acre section in Hereford Street east (Lyttelton Times 3/5/1884: 7). They rented this property from George Fletcher, a tailor (LINZ 1878). By now, the eldest of the children was 15, with the youngest – and only daughter – being three years old (BDM Online n.d.). William set himself up as an accountant in their new city. And Henrietta? Well, she establishes a school for “young ladies”, to be known as ‘Aorangi’ (Lyttelton Times 3/5/1884: 7). Why Aorangi? To be honest, your guess is as good as mine. Actually, not quite. I was intrigued by this and so did some research on colonial setters’ use of Māori words for house names. You can read all about it here.

The first advertisements for Aorangi, Henrietta’s school. Note the reference to being assisted by “competent teachers”. Image: Lyttelton Times 3/5/1884: 7.

Let me tell you a little bit about the house, because it was a little bit unusual. You see, any passerby on Hereford Street would have thought it was two-storeyed. And part of it was. Crucially, though, not all of it. In fact, the two-storeyed part was only one room deep, whereas the house itself was three rooms deep. So, like any number of 19th century villas, this house was built to look bigger than it was – to create an impression of wealth and status that didn’t actually exist. More than that, two-storeyed houses were by their very nature – their scale, their bulk – more imposing than their single-storeyed equivalents. Living in a two-storeyed house, particularly a large fully detached one, was a sign of wealth and status. The house was clad in rusticated weatherboards and had wooden quoins on the corners. Quoins were often used to give the impression that a building was stone, as opposed to wooden, but in the case of many domestic buildings, it would have been perfectly obvious that the house was wooden and no deceiving even the most casual of observers. As such, I think of these as little more than decorative. The other unusual feature of the house was the French doors on the ground floor, which opened from the veranda into the two front rooms. French doors were not a common feature of houses in 19th century Christchurch, being more typically associated with an earlier era of architecture.

Aorangi, in 2013. Image: L. Tremlett, Ōtautahi Christchurch archaeological archive.

 The house had 11 rooms (including two halls). Based on my understanding of life in 19th century houses in Christchurch, and Henrietta and William’s occupational status, I think that one of the front rooms would have been the parlour (or drawing room), and the other was probably used as the school room, thus minimising the movement of students through the house. The other rooms on the ground floor would have been a dining room, kitchen and scullery. On the first floor were three bedrooms and what was probably a linen closet.

The east elevation of Aorangi, showing the two-storey and one-storey components. Image: L. Tremlett and K. Watson, Ōtautahi Christchurch archaeological archive.

 It was by no means unusual for women to run schools in 19th century New Zealand. In fact, it was one of the more widely ‘accepted’ professions for women, particularly if that school was for young women (Bishop 2019: 71, 75). The theory went that teaching drew on all those ‘nurturing’ attributes women were supposed to have, and was really just an extension of their roles as mothers. More importantly, it was a relatively accessible profession. No training was required and, if the school was in the house one was already living in, little money was required to establish the school (Pollock 2012). I’ve not been able to find any evidence that Henrietta had run a school – or worked as a governess or teacher – prior to establishing Aorangi, but that’s not to say that she didn’t.

 Little information is available about Aorangi the school. The advertisement about ‘young ladies’ indicates it catered to girls in their teens, as opposed to younger girls. As to the subjects taught, they are likely to have been what Catherine Bishop describes as “the requisite feminine accomplishments”, such as drawing, painting, music, dancing, sewing and/or embroidery (Bishop 2019: 75, 88). French may also have been an option, but science is unlikely to have been taught, although there may have been some basic mathematics (Bishop 2019: 87).

 Henrietta only ran the school until c.1885/86, when the family appear to have continued their somewhat peripatetic existence (I think they went to Australia at this point). But her school continued without her. It was taken over by “The Misses Buchanan” (Lyttelton Times 23/1/1886: 7). The Misses Buchanan, who ran the school as a boarding school for a time, are frustratingly elusive. Jessie Henrietta Buchanan arrived in New Zealand in c.1851 and was involved with the school for longer than the other ‘Misses’, one of whom disappears from view in the early 1900s (Elizabeth Marion) and the other marries at around the same time (Gertrude E.). As best I can tell, Elizabeth Marion and Gertrude were Jessie’s nieces. Elizabeth, their mother, also lived at the house. Elizabeth was a widow when she arrived in New Zealand in c.1878 and is described as a ‘lady’ in the electoral rolls, neatly distinguishing her from her working female relatives, who also presumably supported her financially. So, too, William L. Buchanan, possibly Elizabeth’s son. Jessie ran the school until at least 1916, by which time it focused solely on dancing (Press 29/6/1916: 11). Of note is that it’s always Jessie who’s listed as the main resident of the house in the street directories, never William, which is highly unusual – if there was a man in the house, he was typically the resident listed.

The first advertisement the Misses Buchanan placed for Aorangi. Image: Lyttelton Times 23/1/1886: 7.

 At face value, this is just a story of a house and the women who lived there in the 19th century. But it encapsulates so much more than that: how women could earn a living in 19th century Christchurch; how houses could deceive – or, at least, be used to enhance one’s story; how houses could be used to generate an income; the peripatetic lives of some colonial settlers (side note, my research to date indicates that this was not the norm – people mostly came and stayed); the role and importance of class, social status and gender; and the ways in which family ties could shape immigration, opportunities and life choices. Which, to my mind, just goes to prove the importance of ‘stories’, and of their power to help us understand the past.

Katharine Watson

References

BDM Online, n.d. Available at: https://www.bdmhistoricalrecords.dia.govt.nz/home

Bishop, Catherine, 2019. Women Mean Business: Colonial Businesswomen in New Zealand. Otago University Press, Dunedin.

Evening Post (Christchurch). Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Evening Star (Christchurch). Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

LINZ, 1878. Certificate of title 33/144, Canterbury. Landonline.

Lyttelton Times. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

McCallum, D., 2025. Henrietta Madoline Yeend. Ancestry. [online] Available at: https://www.ancestry.com.au/family-tree/person/tree/37131698/person/360146005877/facts

Otago Daily Times. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Pollock, Kerryn, 2012. Tertiary education – colleges of education before 1990. Te Ara – The Encyclopedia of New Zealand. [online] Available at: https://teara.govt.nz/en/tertiary-education/page-3 [Accessed 30 January 2025].

Press. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Star (Christchurch). Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Straight to gaol

“The practice of inflicting pain on children as punishment was widely accepted in Pakeha [sic] society as an essential child-raising tool for parents and other caregivers” (Maclean 2006: 7). It’s a confronting statement, and refers to 19th century New Zealand, where, indeed, the right to physically punish a child was enshrined in law. Somewhat ironically (to 21st century eyes), a section of the Children’s Protection Act 1890 stated that “[n]othing in this Act contained shall be construed to take away or affect the right of any parent, teacher, or other person having the lawful control or charge of a child to administer reasonable punishment to such child.” This law reflected broad societal acceptance amongst Pākehā of the practice of physically punishing children, as well as preserving the right of the courts to sentence a child to such a punishment.

Not only were physical punishments handed out to alarmingly young children in 19th century New Zealand (and numerous other countries), so too were sentences of incarceration. These punishments reflected a society – and legal system – that saw little difference between children and adults and did not recognise that children might be both more vulnerable than adults and less able to think through the implications and rights and wrongs of their actions. These attitudes began to change towards the end of the 19th century with the passage of the 1893 Criminal Code Act. With this act, children under seven could no longer be prosecuted for their actions, while those aged between seven and 14 could only be prosecuted if there was evidence that they knew they were doing wrong (Watt 2003: 7). 

These legislative changes, though, came too late for Robert Bruce Hardie. Robert was the son of Andrew and Maria Hardie, born in Shoreditch (not Scotland, as you might have expected with that name) in 1868, the fourth of their eight children (only six of whom survived childhood; Ancestry 2006-24). The Hardie family arrived in Christchurch in 1874 and by 1879 had bought land and built a very small house (just over 50 square metres!) in the Avon loop, on the outskirts of central Christchurch. It is through this house that Robert came to my attention. Robert’s first encounter with the law was in 1878, when he was arrested and charged with stealing a horse blanket and some apples. During the court case that followed, the policeman involved described Robert as a good boy who’d not been in trouble with the law before but noted that he was in “bad health”. Given these mitigating circumstances, he was sentenced to six hours in prison (Star (Christchurch) 1/11/1878: 3). He was 10.

The house that Andrew and Maria Hardie built in the Avon loop, in Christchurch (the door and windows had been replaced in the early 20th century). Andrew and Maria built this small house in 1879, and lived here until 1886. Image: P. Mitchell, Ōtautahi Christchurch archaeological archive.

Prison in this case was probably the rather forbidding Addington Gaol. Surprisingly little has been written about the history and operation of this gaol, and it is not clear how children imprisoned there were treated. Late in the 1870s, it was noted that it was difficult to keep boys in the gaol separate from other prisoners there, implying that this was at least the intention, if one that was not always observed (Lyttelton Times 7/10/1879: 6).

The only surviving building from Addington Gaol, in 2005 (the building is now a backpackers). In the same way that little has been written about the history of gaol, there are surprisingly few photographs of it. Image: Wikipedia.

If this short spell in prison had been intended to deter Robert from future criminal behaviour, it wasn’t successful. The following year, he was in trouble with the law again, this time for being involved in the theft of some bags. While some of the other boys involved were sent to Burnham Industrial School, Robert and one other received a harsher punishment – they could not be sent to the school because they had previous criminal convictions (Globe 29/5/1879: 3). Burnham Industrial School had been established in 1873, under the Neglected and Criminal Children Act 1867 (HNZPT 2023). Under this act, neglected children were to be sent to industrial schools (to receive an education and vocational training), and ‘criminal’ children to reformatory schools, recognising the different circumstances leading to their situation, and to prevent the latter influencing the former (Globe 8/7/1881: 2). In reality, however, both ‘types’ of children were often sent to the same institution, as can be seen in the case of Robert’s contemporaries.

Robert, however, was less fortunate. This time, he was sentenced to 24 hours in prison, and 24 lashes with the cat-o’-nine tails (Globe 29/5/1879: 3). No, I didn’t know that the cat-o’-nine tails was a legal punishment for crimes in New Zealand either. Until 1941 (NZHistory n.d.). I still find it somewhat mind-boggling that ‘the cat’, which was specifically designed to inflict “intense pain”, could fall within the parameters of ‘reasonable force’ (MHNSW 2024). (And it feels like delving into this particular issue might provide some insight into Aotearoa’s current high rates of child abuse.) Maria, Robert’s mother, observed during the court case that “if he got a good flogging it would do him good,” reflecting the broader societal view that physical punishment was not only appropriate, but beneficial (Globe 29/5/1879: 3). In case you’ve missed it, I’d like to state here that Robert was just 11. Subsequent events would prove Maria quite wrong.

A cat-o’-nine tails, held by the New Zealand Police Museum. The label on it states that it was authorised for use by Minister of Justice A. L. Herdman on 6 October 1913. Image: Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand.

Robert appeared before the court again several times over the succeeding years, always for petty thefts (e.g. Star (Christchurch) 28/12/1880: 1, Lyttelton Times 25/3/1881: 3). On most occasions, he was both incarcerated and whipped, with the lengthiest imprisonment being for 3 months, to be accompanied by 18 lashes at the beginning and end of the sentence (Lyttelton Times 19/8/1879: 3). He was 11. A notable exception came in March 1881 when, rather than being imprisoned, his father was instructed to “chastise” him – given what had gone before, I assume that this was an instruction for Andrew give him a flogging and thus that this is state-sanctioned violence by a parent against a child (Lyttelton Times 25/3/1881: 3). I may be reading too much into this, but I doubt that a stern telling-off was going to be considered sufficient chastisement. Later that same year, Robert was sent to the Caversham Industrial School (in Dunedin) for three years, and this brought his youthful offending to an end (Globe 13/7/1881: 3). It’s not clear why Robert was sent to the Caversham school and not Burnham, but it may have been because Burnham would not accept children with a criminal conviction (Globe 8/7/1881: 2).

Robert’s offending may have come to an end at this point, but the story doesn’t end here. In 1897, his children, Dorothy (aged five) and Bland (three) were removed from his care and taken to Burnham Industrial School, after being found in the company of their drunk father (described as a “habitual drunkard”) and other drunk men and women, including a prostitute (Star (Christchurch) 26/1/1897: 3). Their mother had died the previous year (BDM Online n.d.).

From a 21st century perspective, there are many details of this story that are shocking. The sheer brutality of the punishments meted out to Robert Hardie are hard to fathom, and seem completely out of proportion to his crimes. They reflect a world where it was deemed appropriate for the state to undertake the painful physical punishment of its citizens, and where such punishments were seen as a deterrent. Not only did the state carry out these punishments, it also enabled parents and other caregivers to do the same (see the work of Debra Powell (2012) for a discussion of the tensions that this led to when it came to courts prosecuting caregivers for child abuse). Aside from the brutality, what is most notable for me is that there was no attempt at reform – which, to be honest, feels like a loaded, paternalistic word. What I mean is that there was no attempt to change Robert’s circumstances, there was only punishment: there was no examination of the broader context in which his offending was carried out, or the reasons for, or attempts to change this. It was just straight to punishment. Actually, literally, straight to gaol. Which would have disrupted his education – if, in fact, he was attending school (legally, he should have been, but it is not clear whether or not this was the case) – and thus affecting his future opportunities. This situation reflects very different attitudes from those that guide our justice system today but, perhaps, in some of what I have outlined can be seen some of – if not the roots – at least the symptoms of our horrifying child abuse statistics.

Katharine Watson

References

Ancestry, 2006-2024. Andrew Douglas Hardie. Ancestry. [online] Available at: https://www.ancestry.com.au/family-tree/person/tree/14687068/person/148513297/facts?_phsrc=AxX355&_phstart=successSource [Accessed 21 March 2024]. 

BDM Online, n.d. Death search – Lillian Annie Hardie. Births, Deaths & Marriages Online. [online] Available at: https://www.bdmhistoricalrecords.dia.govt.nz/search/search?path=%2FqueryEntry.m%3Ftype%3Ddeaths [Accessed 21 March 2024].

HNZPT, 2023. Burnham Camp Post Office. Heritage New Zealand Pouhere Taonga. [online] Available at: https://www.heritage.org.nz/list-details/3063/Burnham%20Camp%20Post%20Office [Accessed 21 March 2023].

Lyttelton Times. Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Maclean, Sally, 2006. Child cruelty or reasonable punishment? A case study of the operation of the law and the courts 1883-1903. New Zealand Journal of History 40(1): 7-24.

MHNSW, 2024. Cat-o’-nine-tails. Museums of History NSW. [online] Available at: https://mhnsw.au/stories/convict-sydney/cat-o-nine-tails/ [Accessed 21 March 2024].

NZHistory, n.d. Flogging and whipping abolished. New Zealand History – Nga korero a ipurangi a Aotearoa. [online] Available at: https://nzhistory.govt.nz/flogging-whipping-abolished [Accessed 21 March 2024].

Powell, Debra, 2012. Reading past cases of child cruelty in the present: the use of the parental right to discipline in New Zealand court trials, 1890–1902. In: Kirkby, Dianne (ed.). Past Law, Present Histories. Australian National University e-Press, pp. 107-124.

Star (Christchurch). Available at: https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers

Watt, Emily, 2003. A history of youth justice in New Zealand. Unpublished report prepared for Principal Youth Court Judge Andrew Becroft.

Banner image: Canterbury Stories.