Elegance on the way to the Regatta

This video from Yesterday Today on FB shows people getting off the train at the Henley Regatta in July of 1898.

A wonderful glimpse into the Upper Crust on their way to a see and be seen event!

Enjoy
The Victorian Society of Alberta

July Fashion Friday

This month we have a fascinating video about Victorian Corsetry.
From Abby Cox on YouTube.

Enjoy

The Victorian Society of Alberta

Lady Agnes MacDonald’s Adventure July 1886

 In July 1886 Sir John A. Macdonald and his Wife Lady Agnes Macdonald took a trip across Canada on the new CPR.

The trip was notable for the adventurous Agnes' trip through the Rockies perched on the Cowcatcher of the engine!

From an article in the William's Lake Tribune, July 2018.

Enjoy
The Victorian Society of Alberta

HAPHAZARD HISTORY: Lady Agnes Macdonald’s train trip west

 

Sir John A. Macdonald and Lady Agnes Macdonald (to the right) and their party at “the Jamaican” railway car. (BC Provincial Archives photo)

In 1885, the last spike was hammered into the Canadian Pacific Railway at Craigellachie, and for the first time, Canada had a transcontinental link from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Sir John A. Macdonald, Canada’s Prime Minister, had never been west of Ontario. It had been his life’s ambition to see the joining of the country by rail, and so it was planned that he and his wife, Lady Agnes, should travel by train across Canada in the summer of 1886.

A private railway car named “the Jamaican” after the country where Lady Agnes had been born was outfitted, and a special train was scheduled to carry a party of political dignitaries from Ottawa to Granville (now known as Vancouver).

The plan was for the Prime Minister to stop in as many towns as possible along the way to do some campaigning and to take credit for the building of the railway.

However, at Calgary, Lady Macdonald began to steal the show.

She had been quite bored in the private car as they traversed the monotonous Prairies, and she wanted a little excitement.

She climbed up into the cab of the locomotive and asked the engineer and fireman to explain all the dials and levers, and to explain how the huge engine worked.

She became so intrigued with it that she decided to ride the next several miles in the cab, and she asked if she could blow the whistle at the next crossing.

She did, and she blew it many more times along the route, resulting in a note being sent up to the cab by Sir John A. himself, telling her to stop playing around as it was interfering with his reading concentration.

Then, just outside of Banff, while the engine was watering up, the engineer asked her if she would like to accompany him while he conducted a walk around inspection of the engine.

The minute Lady Agnes saw the huge cowcatcher at the front, she decided that she wanted to ride there for the remainder of the journey.

She felt that compared to the stuffy, boring, smoke-filled atmosphere of the private car, riding on the front of the train with the wind in her face would be exhilarating and would give her the best view from the best seat on the train.

The engineer was astounded. Lady Agnes later wrote: “he seemed to think it was a very bad idea indeed. To a sensible, level-headed man as he is, such an innovation on all general rules of travelling decorum was no doubt very startling.”

The engineer was firm. He would not allow her to ride on the front unless the Prime Minister himself gave his permission.

Sir John A. was sitting in the private car, having another drink and reading a magazine, when Lady Agnes rushed in and made her request.

He looked at her as if she was crazy and said: “Ridiculous!”

BC Provincial Archives photo Lady Agnes Macdonald.

That should have been the end of it, but being a politician, Sir John A. couldn’t resist saying more than one word.

So, he followed up with a question: “Could you hold on?”

Lady Agnes took this as permission granted, and back she went to the locomotive.

By now, the engineer had turned the problem over to the Superintendent of the journey, an aide to the Prime Minister who was in charge of the whole trip.

The Superintendent tried valiantly to talk her out of it, pointing out the danger, the inconveniences to her person and the lack of decorum for an upper class lady, but to no avail.

Finally, he asked her what she would use as a seat. She looked around and saw a small box which had contained candles sitting on the platform, and she declared that this box would serve nicely as a seat.

The Superintendent saw that he would not win the argument, so he helped her up onto the top of the cowcatcher and, feeling duty bound not to leave her there, he sat down on the other side.

Lady Agnes recognized that he was greatly distressed by her plan and tried to cheer him up, declaring that this was a great adventure, travelling at the very front of the train from the mountains to the sea.

By all accounts, the Superintendent was not very encouraged by her words.

Later, she described her feelings during her ride: “With a firm right hand grasping the iron stanchion, and my feet planted on the buffer beam, there was not a yard of descent in which I faltered for a moment.”

The drops down the west side of the Great Divide should have terrified Agnes, yet she was thoroughly exhilarated.

It was the poor Superintendent who was terrified.

July Book Tuesday

 This month's Book Tuesday is a delightful and informative collection of Victorian Slang collected in 1909 by J. Bedding Ware.

Available at the Internet Archive 

This book is a dictionary of "heterodox Engish, slang and prose" a glimpse into the common tongue of ordinary people in Victorian England.

Definitely worth a perusal.
The Preface is gold and included below.

Enjoy

The Victorian Society of Alberta

Passing English of the Victorian era : a dictionary of heterodox English, slang and phrase

by Ware, James Redding
    1909

 PREFACE

HERE is a numerically weak collection of instances of 'Passing English '. It may be hoped that there are errors on every page, and also that no entry is ' quite too dull '. Thousands of words and phrases in existence in 1870 have drifted away, or changed their forms, or been absorbed, while as many have been added or are being added. 'Passing English' ripples from countless sources, forming a river of new language which has its tide and its ebb, while its current brings down new ideas and carries away those that have dribbled out of fashion. Not only is 'Passing English ' general ; it is local ; often very seasonably local.
Careless etymologists might hold that there are only four divisions of fugitive language in London — west, east, north and south. But the variations are countless. Holborn knows little of Petty Italia behind Hatton Garden, and both these ignore Clerkenwell, which is equally foreign to Islington proper; in the South, Lambeth generally ignores the New Cut, and both look upon Southwark as linguistically out of bounds; while in Central London, Clare Market (disappearing with the nineteenth century) had, if it no longer has, a distinct fashion in words from its great and partially surviving rival through the centuries — the world of Seven Dials, which is in St Giles's — St James's being practically in the next parish. In the East the confusion of languages is a world of ' variants ' — there must be half-a-dozen of Anglo-Yiddish alone — all, however, outgrown from the Hebrew stem. ' Passing English ' belongs to all the classes, from the peerage class who have always adopted an imperfection in speech or frequency of phrase associated with the court, to the court of the lowest costermonger, who gives the fashion to his immediate entourage. Much passing English becomes obscure almost immediately upon its appearance — such as ' Whoa, Emma ! ' or ' How's your poor feet ? ' the first from an inquest in a back street, the second from a question by Lord Palmerston addressed to the then Prince of Wales upon the return of the latter from India. ' Everything is nice in my garden' came from Osborne. 'O.K.' for 'orl kerrect' (All Correct) was started by Vance, a comic singer, while in the East district, 'to Wainwright' a woman (i.e. to kill her) comes from the name of a murderer of that name. So boys in these later days have substituted 'He's a reglar Charlie' for 'He's a reglar Jack' meaning Jack Sheppard, while Charley is a loving diminutive of Charles Peace, a champion scoundrel of our generation. The Police Courts yield daily phrases to 'Passing English ', while the life of the day sets its mark upon every hour. Between the autumn of 1899, and the middle of 1900, a Chadband became a Kruger, while a plucky, cheerful man was described as a 'B.P.' (Baden Powell). Li Hung Chang remained in London not a week, but he was called 'Lion Chang' before he had gone twice to bed in the Metropolis. Indeed, proper names are a great source of trouble in analysing Passing English.