In the quiet city of Christchurch, New Zealand, during the mid-20th century, there was an air of curiosity and mystery lingering just beneath the surface of public life. Between the everyday rhythms of a bustling city, a small but dedicated group of individuals sought to explore the unseen, to contact the spirits of the departed, and to understand the sublime mysteries that had fascinated humankind for centuries. Their efforts, while largely unknown to the broader public, would form the foundation of the Society for Psychical Research of Christchurch Inc., a group that mirrored similar organizations in other parts of the world, including its direct inspiration, the Wellington Society for Psychical Research.
The exact events leading to the founding of the Christchurch society in 1940 remain shrouded in uncertainty. However, the cultural and historical backdrop of spiritualism in New Zealand and globally provides crucial context. Spiritualism, a movement that began in the mid-19th century, was centered on the belief that the living could communicate with the spirits of the dead through mediums, séances, and spirit writing. By the 1920s, spiritualism had gained a significant following in New Zealand, partly due to international influences, including Arthur Conan Doyle's well-publicized 1920 visit to the country. Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, had become an ardent spiritualist, convinced that communication with the afterlife was possible. His visit helped solidify the spiritualist movement in New Zealand, attracting new adherents, including some who would later become involved in Christchurch's psychical research community.
A prominent figure in Christchurch’s spiritualist circles was Edgar McLeod Lovell-Smith, a man who became synonymous with the local movement. Lovell-Smith, a member of a well-known Christchurch family of philanthropists and social reformers, was an enthusiastic participant in the city's burgeoning spiritualist scene. While he had originally been an Anglican, Lovell-Smith’s religious beliefs had evolved by the 1930s, leading him to leave the church and become deeply involved in the Christian Spiritualist Church. His religious transition reflected a broader trend among spiritualists, many of whom struggled to reconcile their Christian faith with their experiences in spiritualism, ultimately forging a unique blend of Christian beliefs and esoteric practices.
At the heart of Christchurch’s spiritualist movement were the séances, intimate gatherings in which participants sought to make contact with the spirits of the dead. While spiritualism had spread around the world, the séances held in the narrow confines of Chancery Lane, a discreet alleyway between Cathedral Square and Gloucester Street, were particularly emblematic of the movement's character in New Zealand. The alleyway, which housed a séance room at either No. 3 or No. 5 (historical records remain unclear on the exact address), became a focal point for those seeking to bridge the gap between the physical and spiritual realms.
One such séance, held on a Friday night at 8 p.m., perfectly encapsulates the sensory world of spiritualist gatherings in Christchurch. The room was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination provided by a dim red light designed not to disturb the spirits. The medium, Mrs. Lily Hope, was sewn into a chair within a small cabinet draped with black cloth. The elaborate precautions were meant to dispel any doubts about the legitimacy of the materializations that were about to occur. In the early 20th century, spiritualists often portrayed their work as a kind of science, yet they also acknowledged the difficulties in empirically validating the apparitions. The delicate balance between belief and skepticism was a constant theme in the séances.
As the séance unfolded, the participants began with prayers and hymns, grounding the ritual in Christian tradition while preparing themselves for contact with the otherworldly. Soon, two spirits materialized: Sister Monica, a cultured nun, and Sunrise, a Native American girl. Their appearances were not merely visual phenomena but involved a multisensory experience. Sister Monica was described as having a “beautiful, cultured voice” and a “sweet facial expression.” Sunrise, meanwhile, was known for her floral manifestations, dropping pinks from the ceiling as a sign of her presence. The sensory richness of these encounters—voices in the dark, the faint scent of flowers, the brush of a spectral hand—created an atmosphere in which the boundary between the living and the dead seemed to dissolve.
The participants in these séances were driven by a complex array of motivations. Some sought comfort in the face of personal grief, hoping to reconnect with deceased loved ones and receive messages from beyond the grave. The dead, after all, were portrayed as inhabiting a state of “bliss,” a kind of heavenly contentment that was more vivid and fulfilling than the clichéd depictions of choirs of angels. Messages from the deceased often reassured the living that death was not an end but merely a transition into a more accurate and fulfilling existence.
Others attended séances out of a desire for deeper spiritual understanding or the pursuit of knowledge. The intellectual curiosity that underpinned much of the psychical research movement was evident in the practices of groups like the Society for Psychical Research of Christchurch. Lovell-Smith, who took on a role similar to that of a pastor within the spiritualist community, meticulously documented his experiences in séances. His papers included not only detailed accounts of séances but also biblical references that he believed supported the modern spiritualist movement. In this way, spiritualism in Christchurch operated on the boundary between science and religion, appropriating elements of both while never fully belonging to either.
Lovell-Smith was not alone in his endeavors. The Christchurch Society for Psychical Research attracted a diverse group of individuals, all united by their shared fascination with the spiritual world. Figures such as Violet Barker, a regular participant in the Chancery Lane séances, and Mr. Edlin, a photographer who created spirit photographs, were part of a close-knit network of believers. These individuals often conducted séances in their own homes or traveled to other towns to spread the message of spiritualism. In 1936, Lovell-Smith and his wife embarked on a tour to Timaru, where they attracted an audience of 300 curious onlookers, eager to learn more about the mysteries of the afterlife.
Despite the sense of community that surrounded spiritualism in Christchurch, there was also an air of secrecy. The séances were private affairs, held in small, darkened rooms hidden from the public eye. Even the locations themselves, such as the elusive No. 5 Chancery Lane, symbolized the hidden nature of spiritualist practices. Spiritualism in Christchurch, much like elsewhere, occupied a space at the margins of society, operating just below the surface of public life.
The Christchurch Society for Psychical Research continued its work into the 1950s, but the exact details of its decline remain unclear. Lovell-Smith’s death in 1950 marked a significant turning point for the organization. Without his leadership, the group’s activities dwindled, and the surviving records offer little insight into its fortunes after that period. However, some evidence suggests that spiritualist activities continued in Christchurch and the wider Canterbury region into the 1980s, albeit on a smaller scale. The societal shifts of the postwar era, with its emphasis on science, secularism, and rationalism, likely contributed to the waning interest in spiritualism. Yet, the legacy of the Christchurch Society for Psychical Research endures in the city’s cultural memory, a reminder of the threadbare years when the living and the dead seemed to exist side by side.
The rise of spiritualism in Christchurch and the founding of the Society for Psychical Research are chapters in a broader global movement that sought to answer fundamental questions about life, death, and the nature of existence. For those who gathered in darkened rooms on Chancery Lane, the pursuit of the sublime was not merely an abstract intellectual exercise but a deeply personal and emotional journey. The séances, with their sensory richness and blend of science and religion, offered a glimpse into a world where the boundaries between the living and the dead could be crossed, if only for a fleeting moment.
To explore inside the séance room you can listen to the following podcasts with Dr Nick Richbell
