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Ferryhill Church Archives
By Fiona Stephen This article appeared in Issue 25 (September 2001) of Ferryhill Focus published by Ferryhill Community Council and is is reproduced here with their permission. Part 2 will appear in the Spring 2002 issue. |
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Deep in the bowels of Ferryhill Parish Church is the area’s very own museum, a fascinating collection of archives and objects, pictures and plans, from both the present Church and the former Ferryhill North. Tardis-like, the space seems small but it will take you on a trip through time and you may even find a reference to an ancestor or to the house where you live. If you’re at all interested in local history, it’s a must! Arrangements to visit (preferably only, like Noah’s animals, two at a time) can be made most mornings at the Church coffee shop or by contacting Ferryhill Parish Church. Photocopying facilities are also available. |
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| Snapshots: 1898-1903 | ||||
| At the end of the 19th Century, as today, a woman occupied the British throne; but one of the most striking features of Ferryhill Church’s fascinating archives and photographs from that time is the almost complete absence of women. |
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| A group
portrait, taken by James Ewing, 11 Crown Street, of the 1899 office
bearers of Ferryhill Parish (later to become Ferryhill North) Church
shows, of course, only a solid phalanx of men. At this point in time,
beards were clearly still de rigeur, but fashion in gentlemen’s
dress was on the move, for there is a variety of neckwear: high,
starched Victorian collars compete with something very like today’s
softer turn-downs, while stiff little bow ties were giving way to wide,
loosely-knotted flowing styles.
Were these ancestors of ours becoming less stiff-necked metaphorically as well as in fashion terms? By June 1902, by which time Edward VII had succeeded his stern mama, Rev H W Wright of Ferryhill Parish Church was referring to “these days of excessive laxity”. In the monthly church magazine, of course, there is little evidence of this - unless we can count the frequently-lamented lack of men at church events (what were they up to instead?). In March 1902 a social evening was announced at which it was “very desirable that the men of the congregation..... as well as the women, should attend”. In October 1903, the Sale of Work was to open at 3pm rather than 12 o’clock “in the hope that the latter hour will be more convenient for men. It is hoped that the ladies’ regard for their convenience will not be thrown away upon them”. In November, the tone is even sharper: at some former socials, we are told, “the preponderance of women and children was so great that one might almost have been excused for thinking he had wandered by mistake into a Mothers’ Meeting”. Rev Wright was clearly not amused! |
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The ladies of the parish are spared their minister’s rather caustic comments: he has nothing but praise for those who “devote so much time and trouble” to labours of love such as Sales of Ladies’ Work, decoration of the Church for Harvest Thanksgiving, training the children in entertaining “songs, choruses etc” and being “lady visitors” (foot-slogging!). Despite their exemplary conduct, though, these women remained - in print at least - largely anonymous, reflecting their sex’s then still relatively lowly profile in society. | |||
| It seems fairly staggering nowadays to note that even the regular baptismal announcements in the church magazine make no mention whatsoever of the mothers. On January 1st 1899, for instance, comes “At 94 Bon-Accord Street, Ruth, daughter of William M Wyllie” while in September 1903, at 81 Fonthill Road, Mary Winifred had still apparently made her appearance thanks entirely to father, Captain Alex Milne. Marriageable daughters too are completely bereft of mamas, and even in death the grieving mother remains unacknowledged. | ||||
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In one area at least, however, there are signs of the equality (even superiority?) to come: girls seem to have been keen scholars! Indeed, in the prize list of the 1898 Minister’s Bible Class, Stephen Hunter of Braemar Place is the solitary lad to eight Annies and Bellas. Victorian proprieties were, of course, observed even here, for boys and girls had separate prize lists - though I expect the “examination papers” set were the same! | |||
| Boys, following the lead of their papas, in general feature far more prominently than their sisters in reports of church activities. Girls were no doubt permitted to help mama with such lady-like tasks as, in 1898, “charge of the tea tables, which were beautifully decorated with flowers and plants”. |
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| They also took part in musical performances such as “Action Songs” (costumes from Messrs. Liberty & Co., London) and selections from “The Geisha” (surely an odd choice, this?). Their brothers, however, had a whole organisation to themselves: the Boys’ Brigade, a company of which was formed at Ferryhill in 1898. | ||||
| The
Brigade’s first “Pic-Nic” that year must have been a source of
envy to Ferryhill’s girls. The event took place at Dunottar Castle in
August. There was a march through Stonehaven “headed by a Flute Band
to the enlivening strains of the “Bluebells of Scotland”, etc.”,
then tea and games; Ferryhill did well in the races but “when the
tug-of-war came we were altogether out of it”, for the local company
had “older boys to contend with”. After that the castle itself
“was minutely inspected, the boys showing a great interest”,
admission having been arranged thanks to a kind gentleman by the name of
Rev. Disney Innes. The anticipated air-gun competition had to be missed
out for lack of time but “a bountiful supply of new milk and buns was
served”. There is no mention in the magazines of an 1899 picnic but in July 1900 “thirty-five bright, clean, happy-looking boys in uniform, assembled on the station platform” and again proceeded to Donnottar where, this time, “football was.... indulged in” - as well as the buns of course! June 1902 was less lucky, for “the rain came on ... and continued all the afternoon” but there was compensation: “Tea was served in Ritchie’s Restaurant” - were there buns? The boys of the Brigade did have duties, of course; one cannot help but wonder how they felt about the “fancy dress” in which they were attired for a gymnastics display at the 1901 Sale of Ladies’ Work, or about the “most enticing programme” of songs, readings and piano solos” later the same year. The concert, though, was held to mark a new facility which the boys’ home-bound sisters must again have envied: a Recreation Room open every Tuesday evening, for “reading, draught-playing, and numerous other amusements”. The girls of 1901 did at least have the excitement of the annual Sunday School Picnic. This was held at Powdaggie, where a swing had been erected “which children enjoyed so much that they could hardly be prevailed on to leave it to have their Tea”. A piper played, there was a Cocoa-Nut Stall and “a novel idea” - ice cream! The logistics of providing this delicacy in quantity, at a country picnic, in 1901, must testify to the devotion of those century-since organisers! |
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Girls and boys of the Sunday School were also provided with an annual indoor entertainment. Surely a stir was caused by the announcement that, for 5th January 1898, “Lizars’ Cinematograph has been engaged” - although the expense of this did mean it was “necessary to make the price of tickets for parents ... 9d., instead of 6d., as in former years”. | |||
| Indeed, the hall was completely filled for the “moving pictures, or cinematograph, which depicted soldiers marching and riding, waves dashing into a cave, the view seen from the window of a railway train going at full speed, and other equally interesting objects; besides which there were a number of lime-light lantern pictures showing the progress made during the Victorian era, animal studies, etc.”. | ||||
| The cinematography's popularity ensured its return in 1899, when there was also “music on the gramophone” and “a large box of some 400 oranges”. The children, we are told, “behaved, on the whole, remarkably well” - does this qualified praise imply, perhaps, that at least a few of those 400 oranges became sticky missiles in the hands of some small knickerbockered boy a century since in Ferryhill? That we shall never know. | ||||
| Illustrations from issues of “Bon Accord” 1886-1887 | ||||
