Down the rabbit hole: on sewing machines, women, clothing and Ballantynes

It all started with a sewing machine. More specifically, a sewing machine manufactured for and sold by Christchurch institution, Ballantynes, in the early years of the 20th century and found during archaeological work in Woolston. It seemed like it would make a nice blog post, particularly given that it recently featured in the 170th exhibition at Ballantynes. I figured I would write about the woman who owned the sewing machine and the connection between sewing and women in the late 19th century, with maybe a diversion into dressmakers. Before I knew it, though, I was pouring over advertisements from Ballantynes in 19th century newspaper, trying to work out how the firm conducted the women’s clothing component of its business, wondering how I got there…

View fullsize

View fullsize

Let’s start with the sewing machine we found. It’s the rusty pieces of a classic treadle sewing machine, complete with the remains of the word “Ballantynes”. Newspaper advertisements tell us that Ballantynes began selling sewing machines in 1904 (Lyttelton Times 8/9/1904: 3). As luck would have it, the section where the sewing machine was found was occupied by the same family from c.1900 until at least 1922 (H. Wise & Co. 1900: 189, NZER (Lyttelton) 1922: 11). Side note: the section was also home to a woolscour, run by the same family who lived there (H. Wise & Co. 1900: 189). This family was Emily and Joshua Beaumont and, based on all the gender norms of the day, I’m assuming the sewing machine belonged to Emily – or one of her daughters.

The first advertisement found for Ballantynes selling a sewing machine. Image: Lyttelton Times 8/9/1904: 3.

Women of all ages and classes were expected to be able to sew in 19th century England, and this cultural expectation was part of the colonial baggage that these settlers brought with them. For some women, this was an economic necessity; for others, it was a genteel and suitable leisure pursuit. Dressmaking was also one of the most common sources of income for women in 19th century New Zealand. Not only was it a socially acceptable form of work, it was also one that women could do at home, whilst carrying out other domestic duties, including childcare. Dressmakers, though, did not necessarily work from home. Some worked in other women’s homes, some had separate premises, some worked for or with tailors (an exclusively male occupation at the time) and some worked in department stores, such as J. Ballantyne & Co (Malthus 1992: 76-77).

Ballantyne & Company Ltd building, Christchurch. Image: Anon, c.1920s.

Imported fabrics and clothes for sale, J. Ballantyne & Co. Image: Lyttelton Times 30/4/1873: 3.

Jane Malthus outlines the broader implications of the increasing mechanisation of sewing – in the form of the sewing machine – for the fashion industry. It’s not surprising when you think about it, but, essentially, the sewing machine enabled fast fashion. Of course, it wasn’t just the sewing machine. It was also changes in attitudes to women’s work practices (as it became more acceptable/normal for women to work outside the home), changes in women’s fashion (looser-fitting clothes) and the increasing availability of paper patterns (Malthus 1992).

Prior to the advent of the sewing machine, all clothes were hand-sewn, and women’s clothes in particular were made for the person who was going to wear them (men’s work clothes and children’s clothes were more likely to be ready-made). Sewing machines enabled the mass-production of clothes, at the same time that women’s clothes became looser-fitting and less decorative (which is cause and which is effect is open to debate). This meant that ready-to-wear clothing became a thing and women’s dresses and the like could be made in advance, for the mass market, rather than for a particular woman. There’s not enough information in the advertisements for Dunstable House (as Ballantynes was known before it became, well, Ballantynes) to know how the dresses they sold were being produced. But there weren’t any advertisements looking for dressmakers or the like, suggesting that Dunstable House may not have employed any (bearing in mind absence of evidence and all that). J. Ballantyne & Co., however, employed a “machinist” from at least 1873 (having taken over the business the year prior) and seem to have been making dresses to order at that point (Lyttelton Times 30/4/1873: 3, Press 20/9/1873: 3). Other items of clothing, however, were imported, such as women’s jackets and underskirts (Lyttelton Times 30/4/1873: 3). Dressmakers were employed from at least 1874 and by 1877, there was a dressmaking workroom (Lyttelton Times 23/6/1877: 1, Press 8/1/1874: 1). This workroom would have been staffed by young women, many of whom are likely to have sewed on sewing machines. By 1878, demand was such that the firm had three dressmaking rooms (Star (Christchurch) 26/6/1878: 3).

J. Ballantyne & Co. was by no means unique in Christchurch in employing dressmakers, but it does indicate a clear shift in business strategy from the previous owners of Dunstable House (the Clarksons, followed by William Pratt). Having dressmakers and machinists on site would have enabled Ballantynes to produce women’s clothing quickly, and to respond to changes in fashion easily – and perhaps even to help drive those changes in fashion. Importing any item to New Zealand was a risky business, given the time between ordering the item and it arriving on the shop floor. Out-of-fashion stock no doubt had to be sold more cheaply than the latest thing – and possibly even at a loss. A dressmaking workroom mitigated this problem, as well as providing employment opportunities for women outside the home, whether their own or someone else’s (in the form of domestic service). In this way, the sewing machine contributed not just to changes in what women wore, and how that was made, but to broader changes in opportunities for women, and helped them forge new roles in the world.

Katharine Watson 

References

Anon., 1920s. Ballantyne & Company Ltd building, Christchurch. The Press (Newspaper) :Negatives. Ref: 1/1-009721-G. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. /records/29946497

H. Wise & Co., 1900. Wise’s New Zealand Post Office Directory. Available at: ancestry.com.

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

Malthus, J., 1992. Dressmakers in 19th century New Zealand. In: Brookes, B., Macdonald, C. and Tennant, M., eds., Women in History 2. Bridget Williams Books, Wellington. Pp.76-97.

NZER (New Zealand Electoral Rolls). Available at: ancestry.com

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

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

To buy or to rent? Considering home ownership in 19th century Christchurch

House – and land – ownership. This was one of the factors that attracted European colonial settlers to New Zealand in the 19th century. Not surprising, really, when you think about the situation in England at the time (where most of those colonial settlers came from). There, property was a source not just of social status and power, but also of the ability to vote (for men…) and thus the ability to participate in the political system. And yet, it’s been estimated that, at the time, only 10% of houses in cities were occupied by their owners (most of whom were presumably from the upper classes). In the biggest cities, such as Birmingham and London, that proportion fell to just 1-2% of houses (Davison 2000: 12, 14, 16). In this context, it’s not surprising that home ownership took on an almost symbolic – and definitely political – importance for working class people. Nor is it surprising that members of the ruling elite, in turn, began to see working class home ownership as a threat to their power (Davison 2000: 9-11). Which brings me to this rather breathtaking quote from one John Robert Godley:

the age of equality is coming upon us, and our business is not so much to struggle against it, with a view to repulse it altogether, as to retard its progress and modify its effects…no man can look upon the state of our working classes; their ignorance in all which is important for them to know, the immense space which divides them in habits, tastes, pursuits, and feelings, from the rich; above all the widespread indifference to religious obligations, without trembling at the thought of their speedily acquiring political power.

             Quoted in McAloon 2000: 162.[1]

Such attitudes may well have contributed to the Canterbury Association’s decision to price the poorer settlers out of the property market through their sufficient price model. This was a model that quickly fell by the wayside, and home ownership was to become widespread among colonial settlers.

Home ownership was much more achievable in 19th century New Zealand for these colonial settlers than in their home countries due to the relatively cheap and abundant supply of land. Of course, this land was only cheap and abundant thanks to the means by which it was acquired from Māori by the various agents: sales for ludicrously small amounts of money (with conditions that then weren’t honoured) or war and raupatu (confiscation). This land might have been ‘cheap’ at the time, but the long-term consequences of Māori loss of land have been anything but.

While home ownership was more achievable, by no means everyone chose to rent, and home ownership would not have been an option for some. There are no statistics about the number of rentals in 19th century New Zealand (in fact, no such data exists until 1916, when nearly half of all homes were rented; Schrader 2013), and gaining a detailed understanding of the rental market and particularly the rental experience is difficult. Considering the houses that were rented out does, however, offer some insights into renting in Christchurch in the 19th century (I will return to the renters themselves shortly). For my PhD, I spent what felt like months doing statistical analyses (numbers and I, it’s not a happy relationship), resulting in exactly three paragraphs in my final thesis. And some tables. But it wasn’t a complete waste of time: now I can say with confidence that there were almost no statistically significant differences between rental houses and those built for owner-occupiers in 19th century Christchurch. In fact, the biggest difference was that rental properties were much more likely to be built in the central city than in the suburbs, whereas owner-occupier houses were pretty evenly split between the two areas. Which tells us something about the economics of building rental properties (bearing in mind the usual caveats about samples, and mine definitely had a geographic bias). But the houses themselves varied in the same way owner-occupier houses did, reflecting the range of people who rented, and their requirements.

The houses shown in the images above were all either built as rental properties or, as in the case of the first house shown, rented out after a period of being occupied by their owner . Images: P. Mitchell, M. Hennessey, F. Bradley, K. Webb, Ōtautahi Christchurch Archaeological Archive.

Researching tenants is much harder than researching houses, and the reasons for this are instructive. In the absence of diaries or letters, the easiest way to gain an understanding of someone’s life in 19th century Christchurch is through newspapers (it helps that these are freely available online, unlike some historical sources). But many people did not appear in the newspapers (although the number who did is surprising). Court cases would warrant an appearance, so too would advertising for servants (which women might do but obviously this required a certain level of wealth), advertising your business, appearing at ‘important’ social events, or being involved in public affairs or an organisation of some sort (meeting attendees’ names were often recorded). Death notices, too, but birth notices often didn’t mention a woman’s name, only referring to her husband. And there are random mentions, too, like people selling chickens. But if you didn’t do any of those sort of things, you didn’t appear in the papers. And many of the tenants I chose to research simply didn’t appear in the papers (or had annoyingly common names: John Taylor, for example…). This tells me that these were not people who were prominent in business affairs or the city’s social or political life, they were not wealthy and they didn’t have advertise for servants (to be fair, the houses they rented told me that all of this was likely to have been the case). These are the sort of people you might expect to rent, people whose circumstances suggested they couldn’t afford to buy a property. What was also notable about many of the tenants I came across was that they were often at a particular property for only 2-3 years. Unfortunately, I don’t know enough about these people to know why that was the case, and whether they moved into a house of their own from their rental, for example.

One group for whom circumstances are likely to have made property ownership pretty difficult was women on their own, particularly those with no family to turn to and, in the case of widows, women who hadn’t been left a reasonable estate by their deceased husband. In the absence of an adult male wage, life was not easy and financial hardship common (Cooper and Horan 2003: 193). One such renter was Mrs Sarah Gault, who rented a pretty little new build in Gloucester Street. Sarah lived here for several years in the 1880s with her children (and possibly also her elderly parents, who she is likely to have supported), and ran her dressmaking business from the house. Women would have visited her here to be measured and fitted for their new clothes. While circumstances may have forced renting upon Sarah, the house that she chose to rent was fashionable and attractive and, I like to think, a key part of her business strategy, designed to appeal to the sort of women for whom she made clothes.

The house Mrs Sarah Gault rented in the mid-late 1880s. Image: M. Hennessey, Ōtautahi Christchurch Archaeological Archive.

While Sarah’s occupation was a working class one, renters were by no means exclusively working class people (Olssen and Hickey 2005: 207). At the other end of the spectrum were Caroline and Charles Todhunter, who rented a brick cottage on Cranmer Square in the early 1890s. Charles had a varied career, having been a timber merchant for a time and involved in the brewing industry. In 1890, he bought Westerfield station, near Ashburton. When he died in 1916, he left an estate of over £27,000, a substantial sum of money for the time (I don’t what Sarah Gault’s estate was, but I think it’s safe to assume it was nothing close to this; Macdonald 1952-64: T290, McAloon 2002: 15). That the Todhunters took up their rental in 1890 is probably no coincidence, given that Caroline Todhunter is consistently listed in the street directories as the occupant of the house (the street directories listed the head of the household, and women were only listed when there was no man in residence). It seems likely that this was a town house that the Todhunters chose to rent, with Caroline and at least some of their children living there, while Charles was based at the station. While this could be interpreted as a reflection on their marriage, there is another component to this story: Margaret, the couple’s eldest daughter, and in her mid-20s at this point, was attending the nearby Canterbury College (Press 29/10/1892: 8).[2] Further, newspaper references record her active involvement in Christchurch life: St John Ambulance (Star (Christchurch) 16/9/1892: 3), the Girls’ Friendly Society (Lyttelton Times 7/12/1892: 3) and attending any number of balls and other social events (Press 11/11/1892: 4, 21/9/1893: 5, 11/10/1894: 6). Presumably, then, the family had rented a house in the city to provide Margaret with a range of educational and social opportunities (the younger children may have been similarly involved, but they were less visible in the papers of the day).

The Todhunter lived in the rear, brick part of this house, the timber part having been added in c.1900.

The Todhunters were by no means the only well-to-do family I came across who rented, although the reasons why other families like this had chosen to rent were not always so clear-cut. For example, Supreme Court judge John Denniston and his wife, Mary, rented Linwood House for five years at the end of the 19th century. In fact, Linwood House – one of the grandest in the city in this era – was rented out on a number of occasions from 1877 on.

Linwood House, 2003. Image: Jackie Snowdon, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16775483

Renting, then, was by no means confined to poor people, or people with working class occupations, and the range of rental options available reflected this, with rental properties in 19th century Christchurch ranging from the small and ordinary to the grandest of homes. While home ownership was undoubtedly the preferred option for many, there were some for whom this would never have been a possibility, whether due to their financial situation, the security of their employment or their gender. Some, though, chose to rent for other reasons, such as the Todhunters and their town house. Nonetheless, the ideal of home ownership was an important one, and one that has persisted to the present day. This is perhaps why Aotearoa has never developed the culture of successful, stable long-term renting seen in other parts of the world, and why attitudes towards renting often remain negative.

Katharine Watson

References

Cooper, Annabel, and Marian Horan, 2003. Down and out on the Flat: the gendering of poverty. In: Barbara Brookes, Annabel Cooper and Robin Law, eds. Sites of Gender: Women, Men and Modernity in Southern Dunedin, 1890-1939. Auckland: Auckland University Press.

Davison, Graeme, 2000. Colonial origins of the Australian home. In: Patrick Troy, ed. A History of European Housing in Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 6-25. 

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

McAloon, Jim, 2000. Radical Christchurch. In: John Cookson and Graeme Dunstall, eds. Southern Capital, Christchurch: Towards a City Biography 1850-2000. Christchurch: Canterbury University Press, pp. 162-192.

Olssen, Erik and Maureen Hickey, 2005. Class and Occupation: The New Zealand Reality. Dunedin: Otago University Press.

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

Schrader, Ben, 2013. Housing – tenure. Te Ara – the Encyclopedia of New Zealand. [online] Available at: http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/graph/38662/housing-tenure [Accessed 23 February 2024].

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