hysterical (adj.)
1610s, "characteristic of hysteria," the nervous disease originally defined as a neurotic condition peculiar to women and thought to be caused by a dysfunction of the uterus; literally "of the womb," from Latin hystericus "of the womb," from Greek hysterikos "of the womb, suffering in the womb," from hystera "womb," from PIE *udtero-, variant of *udero- "abdomen, womb, stomach" (see uterus). Compare hysteria.
“By the time Harry Bull returned to Borley to work as a curate, His Father’s eyesight and coordination had begun to deteriorate. As Reverend Bull became increasingly immobile, his son took on more parish and social responsibilities.
Finally the Reverend went blind, and he died in the Blue Room at the Rectory on 2 May 1892 at the age of 59. The cause of death was recorded as locomotor ataxia, a neurological condition affecting the spine, which results in blindness and a loss of motor skills – the symptoms of syphilis.
Syphilis was the much-feared, unspoken corruption at the heart of Victorian Life. The creeping terror of this disease was not only in its symptoms, but in the stealthy, undetectable nature of its progress. Invisible during the early stages, untreated it spread throughout the body, progressively destroying the skin, the mucous membranes, bones and internal organs – inflicting horrific mutilations on those who suffered from it.
Ultimately, a softening of the brain would then lead to insanity. It was particularly prevalent among middle- and upper-class men. The social stigma of the disease meant that the voluntary hospitals remained unsympathetic to sufferers and many resorted to ineffective remedies from chemists and quacks. Ignorance about the nature of the infection led many men to put their faith in superstition, some believing, for instance, circumcision to be a cure.
In 1884, a man in Liverpool defended himself against a charge of raping a fourteen-year-old girl, believing that by having sex with a virgin, he would cure himself by passing The Disease onto her.
‘Quack doctoresses’ in a Liverpool brothel were also said to provide such cures, providing disabled children for the purpose.
Syphilis could be transmitted to the next generation and some of the signs of infection passed to children were deafness, saddle-nose – where the bridge of the nose collapses – inflammation of the cornea and Hutchinson’s teeth, a malformation of the incisors.
Following Reverend Bull’s death, the Rectory and the patronage of the living passed to the main beneficiary, his eldest son, Harry, with an implicit understanding that he would make provision for his sisters, though £100 was left specifically to Dodie.
Reverend Bull was buried in the churchyard, touchingly alongside his son Cyril, who had died in infancy. As a memorial to his father, Harry commissioned a stained-glass window that was placed to the south of the nave in the church, celebrating the relationship between the rector and his congregation: ‘I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.’
At twenty-nine, Harry Bull was tall and athletic with a heavy moustache. Like his father, he enjoyed outdoor pursuits – shooting, hunting, walking and tennis. In contrast to his father, he seemed to have little interest in women or family life and appeared to be very much a confirmed bachelor. He was especially fond of boxing and would pay the local boys to spar with him.
One curious incident took place, when he had been visiting the East End of London. He was set upon by two thugs. Whether this was a street robbery – or even a sexual pick-up gone wrong – is unclear. But he was able to hold his own and knocked the two assailants out cold.
He had a dog, Juvenal, and also began to collect cats, between twenty and thirty of them, which he adored, calling each one by name. At the same time, he’d feed countless strays, which he never turned away. Though regarded as eccentric by the locals, he was a popular ‘puckish, lovable man’.
At his first Christmas as the rector, he hosted a supper of roast beef and plum pudding as well as turning the drawing room into a miniature theatre at New Year, complete with footlights and scenery. The family presented a play, Why Women Weep, in which Harry took centre stage as the leading man. His brothers having forged lives away from Borley, the Rectory was now dominated by women : his mother and seven sisters, all unmarried – ‘old maids’, as Dodie had predicted.
Borley Rectory, once vibrant with the energy of a large growing family and their friends, had assumed the air of a convent.”
