Trinity Barnes Dancing "The Perfect Cure"

 

According to modern guidebooks, the Barbican is now the tourist hub of Plymouth. In the Victorian period, it was an area of working docks and their commercial trades. The local church, Holy Trinity, down a lane off Southside Street, was the poorest parish in the city. The church was new, built only in 1842. Since 1851, the Rev. Frances Barnes was pastor. "Trinity Barnes" had the reputation of being one of the most active and respected clergyman in Plymouth. 

That reputation was called into question in 1872 by a brief mention in a new (and short-lived) "humour" journal, The West Country Lantern. Appearing in Plymouth at the time was a celebrated female mesmerist, Madame Card, described as an "enchantress, humourist and clairvoyant.” Madame's performances featured men from the audience willing to come up on stage and stare into a whirling metal disc, made of copper and zinc. They were placed into a trance during which they were willing to do her bidding in the most curious ways. According to the Lantern, one of her "victims" was the Rev. Mr. Barnes, who, under the spell of Madame Card, had "danced the Perfect Cure." 

A wildly popular music hall song, The Perfect Cure had "raged through the land like an influenza." J.H. Stead created the song and during his exhausting performances he was known "to leap up and down over 400 times with both feet at once." After the article appeared, Rev. Barnes complained that everywhere he went in Plymouth, as soon as people saw him, they began to jump up and down. He became a figure of ridicule. It was intolerable and Rev. Barnes brought a libel suit against Henry Barnecutt, publisher of the damaging item.

At the Exeter Assizes, the Rev. Barnes admitted he had attended one of Madame Card's evenings several years earlier: in 1866 at the Mechanic's Institute in Plymouth. He said he went out of curiosity; he had a friend with terrible neuralgia and perhaps mesmerism could be helpful. His visit wasn't a secret; a newspaper at the time reported he was there and had willingly placed himself under Madame's influence. He was put “into the third stage of electrobiology,” i.e. a trance. There was no mention of what he did while in that state. Nonetheless, at the time, he received a good deal of criticism; his bishop and many fellow clergymen did not think it was proper for him to attend an occult performance, let along get up on stage and be stupified. Attendance at Trinity Church suffered as well. 

Six years had passed and this one-off event had been forgotten by most everyone. Rev. Barnes studiously avoided any repetition of the experiment. Until, using the excuse that Madame Card was reappearing in Plymouth, the publisher chose to revisit the affair, calling it "atrociously absurd." In addition, placards were put up with "Trinity Barnes dancing The Perfect Cure." This personal attack was without provocation or justification. Failing to receive an apology, he was now seeking substantial damages. The attorney for the defense called the article a "poor, harmless joke" in an unknown journal and Rev. Barnes would have been better served to simply ignore it. 

From the bench, Baron Martin instructed the jury on the question of libel. Was this a publication "calculated to injure the reputation of a man by placing him in a position of contempt or ridicule?" The Exeter jury thought it was but apparently didn't believe the damage was all that serious. They awarded the Rev. Mr. Barnes a mere £5. 

Rev. Barnes survived the jumping jokes; he remained at Holy Trinity until his death in 1905. A memorial window was installed in his honour and he was buried in the vaults below the church. Alas, the church was destroyed in a bombing raid in World War II. 

Illustrations: The British Museum and "Lost Plymouth Churches."