Looking Out for Pedestrians

A certain young man of my acquaintance thoroughly enjoys competing in track and field events and recently made it to the regional level of competition. While running as a competition has been around since the early Olympic games, we don’t often think of the young ladies and gentlemen of nineteenth century England spending time rushing about a track. Instead, they might become Pedestrians.

A Pedestrian was a professional walker. He either competed against other pedestrians for a prize or worked for the winnings from wagers on his/her ability to walk a certain distance in a certain amount of time. A popular feat was to walk 100 miles in less than 24 hours; those who succeeded were called Centurions. Crowds of up to 10,000 people lined the roads to watch, and cheer.

One of the most famous Pedestrians of nineteenth century England was Captain Barclay (Robert Barclay Allardice). In 1809, he set a record that became the one to beat for nearly a century: He walked for 1 mile an hour for 1,000 hours without stopping, starting on June 1 and ending on July 12. And all this dressed like a gentleman in top hat, cravat, and wool suit!

But it wasn’t just the men who got into the act. As a young girl, Mary Wilkinson of Yorkshire walked 250 miles to London in less than four days. She repeated the feat at age 90 with a keg of gin and provisions strapped on her back, but in five days and three hours. (Must have been the gin.) In 1823, at only 8 years of age, Emma Matilda Freeman walked 30 miles in 7 hours and 57 minutes through pouring rain. Her feat was reported as far away as America. Now there’s a determined young lady!

And speaking of determined young ladies, many of you will remember Mary Quinn, the intrepid heroine of Y.S. Lee’s historical mystery series, The Agency. The Young Bluestockings read the first book, A Spy in the House, in January. Well, make sure to come back next week when none other than Y.S. Lee herself will be guest blogging with us!

I’d walk 30 miles in the rain for that!

Advice for the Casual Walker

School’s started or will start soon, and every young lad and lady here is being given advice for the year. Come prepared to class. Leave your cell phone in your locker. Show respect to your teachers and other students. In nineteenth century London, young ladies received advice on how to behave from their parents, relatives, older siblings, governesses or teachers, and ministers, to name a few.

They also received doses of advice from the popular magazines of the day. Consider this tidbit from the January 1814 Lady’s Magazine:

“In walking the streets of London alone, young females cannot possibly be too cautious in their demeanor; for they should constantly remember that this city contains, at all times, great numbers of idle dissipated men, who, from a variety of causes, are constantly on the look-out to annoy females who are alone. . . .Every day do I behold, as I walk along the streets, the impudent, well-dressed ruffian (it is a harsh name; but such unmanly conduct merits it) following and forcing his conversation upon some timid female, who is evidently shrinking from it, as she would from some venomous reptile. Oh! How I have longed for the strong arm and the bold determination of an honest man to interfere and protect the threatened innocence.”

Well, either that, or a good strong parasol to whap him with.

“When alone, females should studiously avoid everything that may tend to attract these hateful annoyances; and, if they find themselves spoken to, they should either by a firm reply or a positive silence endeavor to rid themselves of them.”

Hm, the silent treatment might not be the best choice for these “idle, dissipated men.” But her next point is advice often offered today: if someone is bothering you, find help.

“If they find these fruitless, I would advise them to go into any respectable shop and state their situation to the tradesman; and I am sure there are few in London who would not immediately send someone to see them safely home, if the distance were not too great.”

Her last piece of advice I found somewhat endearing, at least the part about giggling over the shoulder. But it got me thinking. Many books set in the nineteenth century insist that young ladies of character had to be constantly chaperoned by an adult – a parent, servant, governess, good family friend, or paid companion. It was a little less strict in a country or small villages, where you knew everyone. But this bit would seem to say otherwise:

“Very young persons may sometimes, quite unintentionally, give encouragement to these nuisances. The young maiden, conscious of the entire rectitude of her own heart, is yet probably of a very lively disposition, and possibly may have with her another female about her own age, and as innocently volatile as herself;--one or two of these unmanly intruders happen to be attracted to their appearance, and directly follow them and endeavor to get into conversation; the girls increase their pace; but, in doing so, continually peep over their shoulders, with a full laugh upon their faces, which, if you were to ask them, they would tell you was only occasioned by the ridiculousness of the fellows following them. This, however, is too frequently construed by these puppies into a sort of invitation to continue the pursuit; which they often do to the very homes of the females; thus probably making themselves acquainted with who and what they are, and so enabling themselves, if they think it worthwhile, to lie in wait for them, and annoy them again.”

Wait, that begins to sound like a stalker. Could I have one of those chaperones, please? Or maybe the bold determination of an honest man? Or a really big parasol? What’s your weapon of choice when a guy wants to strike up a conversation and you’d prefer not to?