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Also, the amusing quotes accompanying my photos are sometimes gleaned from TweetsofOld and sometimes from my own old-newspaper browsing.
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It seems, according to our old pal Orson Squire Fowler, that it’s not only women who despise the unmarried:
Celibacy is virtual self-emasculation. It destroys gender, either by inertia, if Amativeness remains inactive, or else by sensualizing it, if it is exercised. Every man unmarried at twenty-five who does exercise it is a libertine, but who does not is a virtual eunuch. Writhe under this, bachelors, as you may, there is no escape from this dilemma but in marriage. Either state unsexes.
“This excoriation is indeed awful. We thought you hard on the clergy, but, comparatively, you handle us with feline claws, them with gloves. Call us thieves, liars, cheats, swindlers, backlegs, even politicians, anything, but don’t, O in mercy, don’t call us eunuchs, mere unsexed things!”
This only calls you what your celibacy necessarily makes you. It but puts a natural problem plainly. Your own celibacy is your own castrator. You necessarily unman your own selves either by stifling your sexuality, if you love no female, or else by perverting it, if you exercise it out of wedlock. Better turn husband, and recuperate what little manhood remains to you, by at once initiating a true love marriage. Every male requires his female, and every female her male. “It is not good for man” or woman “to live alone.” Each was made for the other, as much as light and eyes, and are about as useless isolated. By common consent men look down upon the unmarried, perpetually hit them off by detracting jokes and ridicule, put them off with poor fare, as in boarding-houses, always “count them out,” except when wanted as makeshifts, and edge them round every way. If invited to a stylish party, it is to give some lady a chance to captivate, and save them and herself from this “lingering death.” Ever since “society” existed, “fathers of families” are aristocrats, dignitaries, privileged characters, enjoying special immunities and honors, and always ranking those who are not a pater-familias. What “old bach” ever “leads off” among the ton? It is married men who wield the influences and engross the honors of civic life, while you, baches, young and old, are nobodies, and never can be anybody till married.
From part 614, “Celibacy Deadens or Perverts Gender,” pp. 137-138.
Leper colony, ca. 1900.
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Some of the physical descriptions of prisoners by police and reporters alike, were, to say the least, extremely blunt. A court reporter at the Sheffield Times had a particularly poisonous pen, describing a Mary Jepson as ‘a repulsive-looking prostitute’ and Mary Ann Butcher ‘a nymph of the pave’. John Binney was depicted as a monstrous vagabond known by the name of ‘Muck Binney’. Others unfortunate enough to be standing in the Sheffield dock were variously portrayed as: ‘a middle-aged diminutive man who presented an exceedingly wretched and emaciated appearance’ and ‘a daft, slovenly-looking lad’.
Police and prison details were equally sharp. Manchester police described Thomas Murphy as being very bald with very bad teeth - ‘follicly and dentally challenged’ in today’s parlance. In Birmingham the list of Jennie Willock’s distinguishing marks was brutally honest: ‘pimply, missing two fingers off right hand; missing middle finger of left hand’. Details of female prisoners in Birmingham included ‘varicose veins, weak eyes, bandy legs, pock marks on face, pimply face, three vaccination marks, very full under eyes, fleshy mole left of stomach, thick ear (left), large nose’.
Appearing under the photos in one Manchester mugshot album, the following observations of male malefactors were noted:
Fond of women, well educated and well dressed.
Never wears a hat.
Quiet disposition, frowns.
Addicted to drink, loose morals. Heavy cigarette smoker.
Weakness for stealing money.
Nervous disposition.
Fond of sport and company of women. Quick walker, usually carries pair of grey suede gloves and attaché case. Wears snake-pattern watch chain.
Blinks his eyes when speaking.
Fond of racing. Walks erect.
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William and Alfred Hanlon of the Hanlon-Lees, ca. 1860.
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Fact: Robert Wadlow is my all-time favorite giant. When he was 4 years old, he was taller than I am now.
(via blackandwtf)