Tuesday, 25 October 2016

It's Hallowe'en - so Beware of Apparitions in Brighton's Spooky Twittens!


Copyright Janet Cameron
When the lights goes out and all is quiet - don't linger in these little back lanes of Brighton - for there may be something else lurking - something sinister and very strange.

The layout of the lanes in Brighton's Old Town still survive in their original format from the eleventh century. Originally, they were the site of the little fishing settlement of Brighthelmstone. They were burned down by the French in 1514, but once was enough for all those who loved Brighton. 

So, when the French tried it again in 1545, the alarm was raised and plucky Englishmen from all surrounding areas descended on the lanes and fought off the foolhardy French. Today the lanes are an enchanting labyrinth of delightful shops, pubs and inns, bustling with Bohemian activity, and many with a spooky story to tell.

The Medieval Monk
A medieval monk is said to drift along Black Lion Lane, one of the Old Town's most interesting twittens, and disappear through an old arched stone wall. Some people believe the monk was bricked up inside as a punishment for having an affair with a young girl. It's also been said that this is unlikely because the wall is only 200 years old, so the medieval monk couldn't be bricked up in there. All the same, ghosts walk through walls and doors and appear to climb stairs that aren't there, so maybe he was bricked up in an even older wall that no longer exists, but was replaced some time later.
Dying for Love
Another account claims the ghost of a nun haunts the area. It's said that in the twelfth century, a priory stood here, St. Bartholomew's, and soldiers were ordered to guard the building to protect the nuns from the local ruffians. A nun and a soldier, who had been assigned to guard duty, fell in love and began an affair, and they decided to run away together. Unfortunately for them, they were captured by the young man's fellow soldiers and the soldier was executed.
The nun was bricked up alive in the wall and abandoned to starve to death, and it can be assumed this was carried out by holy orders. It was a usual practice to brick people up to avoid bloodshed which was against religious convictions. It's hard to imagine how it's less sinful to leave someone bricked up alive to suffocate slowly to death than to arrange a quick execution. It must have been little consolation to the poor, young woman that, as she suffered, the other nuns were praying for her soul.
The nun's ghost is also said to walk through the 200 year-old-wall in the photo, but again, as before, the wall may have replaced another wall considerably older, or it could have been a different wall in a different place and the route followed by the ghost has some other explanation.
 


Wednesday, 5 October 2016

A Very Keen Brighton Sewing Machine Rep circa 1878


The following tale appeared in the Cliftonville and Hove Mercury of 13 September 1878, as though it were just an ordinary newspaper report. It seems clear though, that the anonymous author, the paper’s ‘Brighton Representative’ was having a little Victorian fun, but the irony only masks a real social problem.

It concerns the death of a sewing machine canvasser through persecuting a gentleman to buy a machine. ‘Jones,’ states the Brighton Representative rather pompously, ‘told us himself so he must answer to the truth.’

It seemed that some time previously, Jones was persecuted almost to death by a sewing machine agent who wouldn’t give up trying to sell him a machine. In desperation, Jones built himself a diving bell and went out to sea for 400 miles, then descended 200 miles into the ocean to try to get some peace. But no such luck. The moment his feet hit the ocean floor, he saw the sewing machine man coming down in his diver’s equipment and carrying with him a sewing machine shuttle feed and sixty testimonials about the excellence of his sewing machines.

Immediately, Jones rose to the surface and prepared to sail home, but as the ship’s anchor was hauled over the side, it dropped and upset the cook’s caboose and scattered live coals into the powder machine which caused an horrific explosion. This blew Jones 200 miles up in the air. As he began to descend, he again encountered the sewing machine man, this time in a balloon, with ‘six bucketsful of samples of the lockstitch and a model of the reversible hammer.’

Eventually Jones sailed home but as he approached the dock, again he saw the sewing machine man on the landing stage. Jones persuaded the captain to tell the man he’d died of yellow fever on the voyage. This news so saddened the agent that he seized a pistol and threatened to blow out his own brains. ‘The melancholy event,’ says the paper, ‘executed great admiration amongst all who witnessed it’, but Jones said, ‘’Pon honour, I will never encourage a sewing machine man again.’


After reading such an amusing yet heartfelt send-up, one can’t help drawing analogies with modern-day sales techniques. Perhaps the author should be commended for seeing the humorous side of high-pressure salesmanship. Today, of course, we try to combat such coercion by the implementation of a ‘cooling off’ period.