Categories
Victorian

The Peculiar People, 1870

One of my husband’s most often-uttered phrases is “that’s a good name for a band!” (Being a heavy metaller, though, he generally has very different ideas to me on what might make a good band name.) However, that’s the phrase which went through my mind when I saw this article from the Liverpool Daily Post in 1870 which introduced me to the sect of “The Peculiar People”.

Formed as an offshoot of the Wesleyans in the 1830s, the Peculiar People’s name came from a different translation of the biblical phrase “The Chosen People”. It was formed in Essex, spreading later to East London as well. They believed in a literal interpretation of the Bible, and, generally speaking, no use of medicine – as seen in the article below.

The tough stance on medicine was challenged during a diphtheria outbreak in 1910, with the sect dividing into “Old Peculiars” and “New Peculiars”, the New being more open to the idea of medical treatment. Interestingly, the Peculiar People still exist in Essex and East London, although they’re now called the distinctly less peculiar “Union of Evangelical Churches.”

Liverpool Daily Post, 2nd July 1870
Liverpool Daily Post, 2nd July 1870

The “Peculiar People”

An inquest was held on Thursday at Plumstead on the body of George Walker, aged forty-eight, living at 141 Sandy-hill-road, Plumstead.

Deceased’s widow said that her husband had been ailing some time, but he had only been seriously ill about a week. He was employed as a labourer by Mr Perry, contractor. Whilst ill he refused to have a medical man. They belonged to the religious denomination known as the “Peculiar People”. He used to say that God was all-sufficient to raise him up, and He would do so if it was His will. Deceased was visited by the elders, who laid hands on him and anointed him. He was suffering from a cough and died on Saturday night. The “Peculiar People” are allowed to have medical men if they liked; but they believed that the Lord was sufficient to take care of them without doctors. They used to give him wine and brandy, but no medicine.

The Coroner asked, if they gave him wine, why not give medicine? And she replied that they required to nourish the body, and gave wine and spirits for that purpose.

Abraham Andrews was called: he explained the views of the “Peculiar People” and repeated that they were bound to nourish the body with food, including wine and spirits; but that medicine was a different thing altogether, and they did not believe in doctors.

The Coroner asked him whether he would call a doctor if he broke his leg; and he said that, whilst in the fold of Christ, such a thing would not happen to him. His leg could only be broken through disobedience, and would be a sign of his being without the grace of God.

The Coroner said that the “Peculiar People” were rightly named, for they were very peculiar indeed. It was extraordinary that common sense, science and, he might say, common humanity, should not prevail. If the “Peculiar People’s” views were to be adopted, doctors might as well be dispensed with altogether.

Mr Andrews said they did not despise medical men, believing they were of great use to those who were not walking in obedience; but those who possessed Christ considered that God would be their help in every time of need.

The Coroner said that was correct, but the “Peculiar People” carried it to a ridiculous extent. Common humanity would prompt every one to see if anything could be done to prolong life, and calling in medical advice could do no harm, if it did no good. Society at large would say that they did no more for their sick than any one would do to a dog in the street.

The jury, considering a post-mortem examination necessary to ascertain whether deceased’s life could saved with proper medical advice, Dr Ryley, the police surgeon, was selected to perform it.

The inquiry was adjourned till Tuesday, on which occasion the elders who attended on deceased are to be present.

 

Categories
Ephemera Victorian

Victorian Problem Page, 1870

This is The Young Ladies Journal from the 1st of February 1870:

It’s an early women’s magazine consisting of a very closely-typed few pages that includes fiction, puzzles and needlework patterns:

And (sexist) clips from other publications:

A little pop at Lydia Becker from “Fun” magazine, there. She was an inspirational early “suffragist” and I’d like to think that this perhaps goaded her on to change the title of her publication from “The Home” to the magazine she did go on to found in 1870 – the “Women’s Suffrage Journal”. At least, I can’t find any other reference to her “The Home” magazine anyway.

More information on this remarkable woman here – http://www.archivesplus.org/history/lydia-becker-and-the-manchester-suffragists/

But by far the most interesting section is its problem page, as is usually the way with magazines. The young ladies would write in about all manner of things that we can still identify strongly with now – love issues, of course, but also how to pronounce words, general knowledge, information on fashion and tips on how to stop blushing. And the Journal would answer all these questions, and throw in some critique of the senders handwriting to boot – “Your writing needs firmness”. I always enjoy seeing Victorian references to using Rimmel products. It really bridges the gap in time even though the actual products are very different.

The most intriguing aspect of this is that they didn’t print the questions, only the answers. Some of the things asked are obvious, others remain forever a mystery. But across 144 years, I still find myself concerned about the woman writing about what happens if you drink eau-de-cologne…

Some examples here:

And the full, small-print pages here:

Categories
Ephemera Victorian

The Grecian Bend, 1870

I love a spot of history surfing. Looking through some old book or piece of ephemera, coming across something I’ve never heard of, and then going investigating. (With extra points awarded if I somehow manage to cross-reference this with another old book I already have).

I was reading the problem page of The Young Ladies Journal from February 1870, which is enduringly interesting as problem pages always are, no matter if they’re from 100 years ago, or last week. This one is especially intriguing on account of the fact that only the answers to the questions appear, which sometimes involves a bit of imagination as to what the questions might have been – more of this in another post I’ll be putting up shortly.

One of the young ladies had asked about “The Grecian bend”, which elicited the following sensible response:

The Young Ladies Journal, February 1870
The Young Ladies Journal, February 1870

M.J.D.- Every age has its absurd fashion. The Grecian bend, as it is now called, is the present one. Avoid it, and anything else that has a tendency to deformity. You cannot walk too upright to widen the chest and give free play to the lungs.

It turns out that, much like wearing your trousers so low that you reveal most of your underpants (or like one bloke I saw, with his trousers belted right under his bum, all of his pants on show, and only able to shuffle along Pingu-style), the Grecian bend was a stupid fashion of the time. It involved pushing lots of skirt fabric into your bustle and bending your body forwards while walking. It was also known as a dance move. The reasoning behind the name is generally considered to be that it refers to the depiction of dancers on friezes from Ancient Greece, although historian David McCullough has a much ruder explanation – that it comes from “Greek” or anal sex.

This is what it looked like:

The Grecian Bend
The Grecian Bend

There were even special corsets made to keep your back in the correct bent position, which must have been incredibly painful. It was widely ridiculed as an absurdity, and music hall songs were sung to much amusement.

Here’s a few verses of a song called “Grecian Bend’:

‘Tis fun to see a lass so tall,
Lean forward ’till you’d think she’d fall,
Or pitch against a tree or wall,
Because of her Grecian bend.
E’en bashful girls are forward now,
So forward that the people vow,
They’ve been all day behind a plow-
To give them a Grecian bend.

What next we’ll have we do not know,
For novelty is all the go;
And when designs begin to flow,
Where will the follies end?
Perhaps you’ll see them by the scores,
Down on their knees upon your floors.
To try to get upon all fours,
And cut the Grecian bend.

Interestingly, as with all good history surfing sessions, it also uncovered another unknown fact for me. Widespread cases of decompression sickness were first seen during the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge – it was termed “caisson disease” in 1873, after the underwater structures used while building its foundations. But at some point during the project, caisson disease became popularly known as “the bends” because sufferers looked like they were doing the Grecian bend themselves.

Categories
Games Victorian

Friday Fun – Riddle-me-ree, 1870

A classy riddle from “The Young Ladies Journal”, February 1st 1870.

Can you guess it?

My first is a vegetable well known to all;
My second’s an insect tiny and small;
My whole forms one of a large class in this nation;
Tho’ rather low down in the scale is his station.