Prague's Art Nouveau Municipal House

Municipal House at Night
Photo copyright Janet Cameron

Described in Prague's promotional literature as the pearl of Art Nouveau, The Municipal House is a national treasure both inside and out.

    

Venue for the arts, concert hall and home to the Czech National Symphony Orchestra, exhibition hall, and an essential cultural landmark for any visitor to Prague, this is one of the foremost historically important buildings in Czech Republic. The Municipal House is located in the centre of Prague in the Old Town, right next to the Powder Tower.

Smetana and Chamber Concert Halls

The Municipal House is famous for its beautiful Smetana Hall, and the Prague Experience website states that all concerts are performed there. Unfortunately, my attendance at a Beethoven and Mozart concert in June, 2012 was an exception to the rule and although the Smetana Hall was promised as the venue, it was changed at the last minute to take place in the Chamber Hall. As a result, I am unable to describe or to include a photo of the famous Smetana Hall, named after Czech's major composer. I can only quote the website, which describes it as: "...only rivalled in size by the Dvorák Hall at the Rudolfinum. The Smetana is an architectural masterpiece, a mix of carved white stone and gold, illuminated by hundreds of lights, and with frescos by Karel Spillar adorning the walls."

All the same, the enjoyment of drinking in all the beauty inside, descending the huge marble staircase to the American bar, known as the Americky Bar, admiring the frescoes and stonework, the trimmings and decorative glass, compensated to some extent for the let-down. The concert was excellent, although it seemed too short, lasting only just over an hour and a quarter. You can click here to find many beautiful images of The Municipal House and Smetana Hall.

There is also an excellent video you can watch on youtube, please click here.

Origins of The Municipal House

The Municipal House was built in 1911 on the site of the old Royal Court Palace. It is located next to the old Powder Tower, a 65m high building which was once a gateway to the city. This led through the Old Town and over the famous Charles Bridge to Prague Castle on the opposite side of the River Vltava. According to AViewonCities.com, "Until 1836, this route was used by the Bohemian Monarchs on the way to their coronation in the St. Vitus Cathedral at Prague Castle."

The Tower is connected to The Municipal House by a covered bridge.

On the original site, a palace was built for King Wenceslas IV in 1383. After an uprising in the year 1483, the current ruler decided it was dangerous to reside in the centre of Prague, and so moved to Prague Castle, at which point the palace became a seminary, and then a military establishment, until it was demolished in 1903. The Municipal House was then constructed and leading Czech artists of the day were called upon to create the stunningly decorated edifice we enjoy today.

The Municipal House became especially famous on 28 October 1918, by providing the venue for the former Czechoslovakia to be proclaimed to become an independent state.

Sources:

Pragueexperience.com. 

aViewonCities.com .

Senior Mental Health - The Importance of Control

Copyright Janet Cameron

Seniors who feel they are not effective or in control of their own destiny may struggle to maintain a positive outlook and achieve happiness in later life. In his book, The Needs of Strangers, Michael Ignatieff discusses the plight of poor or powerless people and our responsibility towards them. Although his arguments refer to the needs of strangers in general, they also throw some light on the everyday dilemmas faced by elderly people in our society who may not necessarily be poor, but are, frequently, denied the power and control over their lives that they deserve.

Ignatieff points out the contradiction within the welfare state between the respect we owe persons as individuals and as fellow human beings

• Respect for their specific qualities as individual human beings. 

• Respect because of their common humanity. 

Ignatieff says: “The administrative good conscience of our time seems to consist in respecting individual’s rights while demeaning them as persons.” He talks of the “silent contempt of authority in a glance or a gesture.” The Needs of Strangers was written way back in 1984 – but how much have things improved for the senior members of our society?There are many issues for seniors, and much seems to be centred around being in control of your life and instrumental in getting things done without – too much – obstruction, or even contempt.

Negative Experiences Related to Aging

"You know, it's a strange thing about age. It doesn't come to you gradually, but in surges," says Martin. "The trouble is that you suddenly realise you have no power. You have lost all that." 

Martin is actually a very active 82 year-old, who spent his life in a high-powered position in the beer industry, supporting his stay-at-home wife and family at a time when that was how families operated. The feeling of lack of power has started to get to him. 

"I must be off. I have to go to the bank to have a row," he says. 

No, Martin is not an awkward, aggressive type, prone to inciting confrontation. He just thinks if he doesn't start a row, then no one will take any notice and the problems with his account will not be resolved.

For older people, there is the double-bind of age and alone-ness (I am deliberately not saying “loneliness” as that has a different connotation.) 

Single and Invisible

“I decided to treat myself to lunch out,” says Barbara. “The restaurant was full and there were two couples before me waiting to be seated. I asked for a table and the man of the door said, “Well, you can see there are no tables available.” I quickly realised that this was because I was alone and he didn’t want to waste a table on a single person. I insisted I would wait. Sure enough when the next couple came in, after me, they were told that they would be seated within about fifteen minutes." Barbara remained firm and got her lunch, although her experience left her with a sick feeling. 

“I have never gone back to that restaurant,” she says.

“Last time I went to a new dentist, she started talking to me very loudly and very slowly. I actually thought she had some sort of a speech impediment,” says Linda. “I guess she thought that because I was almost seventy, I was also unable to have a normal conversation. I know she thought she was being very clear, but I felt… well… patronised.”

Linda felt her dentist should have started by talking normally, and then adjusted her manner if it was actually necessary. This may seem trivial, but younger people make many assumptions about seniors and sometimes they miss the mark and leave the person feeling diminished and much older than they should.

Age and Personality

We often hear the phrases “Grumpy old man (or woman), silly old bat,” etc. According to A.T. Welford, although people assume that personality changes with age, tests prove this is not so, except in minor ways. Any changes that occur are due to altered circumstances not taken into account by the test. On the plus side, these might be:

• More leisure 

• More opportunities 

The minus side is not so encouraging:

• A restriction of activity possibly due to ill-health 
• 
  

Dependency

Welford says that people adjust to these changes in different ways. Some welcome the new opportunities and are accepting of the restrictions. Other are not interested in new hobbies and allow the restrictions to make them self-centred. Sometimes, this can be due to bereavement, but often reactions to these changed circumstances are due to personality traits. In other words, these reactions frequently have little to do with material circumstances, health problem or existing social outlets. 

“The changes in personality can, perhaps, be summed up by saying that old age is a revealing time, when the best and worst in us stand out in bold relief,” says Welford.

While Welford may have some valid points, the role of society as suggested by Ignatieff must surely play a part in helping seniors to feel acknowledged and valued and avoid the charge of grumpiness!

Strengthening the Neural Signals in Seniors

"Much, if not all, slowing with age can be explained by the fact that signals from the sense organs to the brain and from one part of the brain to another become weaker, while at the same time, random neural activity in the brain tends to increase. The latter blurs the former and leads to errors," says N. Charness in Aging and Human Performance. The good news is that if the person takes a longer time to complete a task, the blurring can be diminished, if not eradicated. If the data is allowed time to be registered then the signals become stronger and compensate for the random activity.

Maurice Chevalier once said: "Growing old is inevitable for all of us. The clever thing is to accept it and always plan your next move well in advance." But Maurice Chevalier had plenty of street-cred, unlike many ordinary seniors, who just want to be listened to and taken seriously. A sometimes impatient and dismissive experience does not help to achieve that end. Feeling you cannot be effective does not aid self-esteem at any age.

A happy and fulfilled senior population depends not only on the positive attitudes of its members, but also on the attitudes of society as a whole.

Sources:


The Needs of Strangers, Michael Ignatieff, Chatto & Windus, The Hogarth Press, London, (1984.)


The Oxford Companion to the Mind, Ed. Richard L. Gregory, Oxford University Press, 1987.


Ageing and Human Performance, ed. N. Charness, New York, (1985.)


Ageing and Human Skill, A.T. Welford, Oxford, (1958.)


Martin, Barbara and Linda (Case Studies.)

Preserving the Great Red British Telephone Box

In 1935, Sir Giles Gilbert Scott (1880-1960) won a competition for designing a telephone callbox. It wasn't quite how Scott had planned it though. He suggested the box should be made of mild steel and silver-coloured with a bluish-green interior. Instead it was made of cast iron and painted bright red.

Since the 1920s, most upper-class people in British cities owned a telephone. They had to pick up the earpiece which sent a signal to the exchange and the operator would say, "Number please?" Then the operator would make the connection using the plugs on the telephone switchboard. Long-distance calls were trickier as they had to be dealt with by a series of operators connecting with each other, and were often almost inaudible. By 1927, there were 56 lines to the Continent and a radio link to New York.

Private Telephones

Phoning cost a fortune. Yesterday's Britain quotes the words of Lydia Scalia, a young telephonist at the Ritz Hotel in London. "The first transatlantic call I did was for a famous singer," she said. "His bill ran to £75 - nearly a year's pay for me - and I was stunned. I ran outside into the cashier's office. He said it was all right."

At this time, 1927, there were 500,000 telephones in Britain but two years later, there were three times as many as automated exchanges took over from the old-fashioned plug switchboards. The first automated exchange in Britain was at Epsom in Surrey in 1912 and the first call box installed at Egham in Surrey in 1919, superseding the popular red boxes by sixteen years. In 1924, the British Post Office decided that 70 telephone exchanges inside a ten mile radius of Oxford Circus should be converted, but the system did not kick in fully until the modernisation of London's Holborn exchange in London in 1927.

Telephone Snobs

People liked to boast of their social contacts and they also liked to look good by complaining in very posh voices: "Oh, that wretched thing never stops ringing!" They put their phone numbers on their cards to show how important they were, and some people would not dream of accepting a phone call from someone who hadn't first presented their calling card.

Soon Giles Gilbert Scott's coin-operated telephone boxes were everywhere, in railway stations, post offices and other public places. -and eventually they became a familiar sight on British streets, along with the matching brick-red pillar boxes.

Sadly, this wonderful icon of Britain's heritage has now become obsolete.

Adopt a Red Telephone Box for a Pound

According Brighton's Argus newspaper, the neighbouring councils of Adur and Worthing had rescued three red phone boxes from being destroyed by adopting them from British Telecom for £1 each. The boxes, at East Street, Shoreham, The Steyne, Worthing and Coombes in Lancing will be repainted by council workers within the next few weeks. The council's cultural project officer, Pamela Driscoll said, "The red phone box is as famous as the red London bus when it comes to symbols of British Heritage."
Now people are talking about finding new uses for this much-loved British artefact and are councils are appealing to the public to come up with some new ideas for their use. Some people have turned them into temporary art exhibitions, information centres and book exchanges.
Not bad for just a quid each!

Sources:
Yesterday's Britain, Edited, designed and publised by The Readers' Digest Association, Multiple Unspecified Feature Writers. 1998.
Great Events of the 20th Century, Multiple Unspecified Contributors, The Automobile Association, 1989.
The Argus, Staff Writer (unnamed) Brighton & Hove, 18 March 2011.

Mozart (1756-1791) - The Magic Flute: an Allegory of Austrian Optimism

Mozart 1780 by Johann Nepomuk della Croce Public Domain

Through the darkness of ignorance, we struggle against the evil of falsehead. Only the transforming light, leading to wisdom, will bring us happiness.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's two-act opera, The Magic Flute, composed in the late eighteenth century, was intended as an allegory related to Austrian Freemasonry, with the Queen of the Night representing Maria Theresa, who became the first Empress of Austria. Despite this, there is little doubt that its fairy-tale aspects are the result of Enlightenment optimism. The word "magic", which appears in the title, is a word that conjures hope and happiness, and the flute is a fairy-tale instrument.

How cunning of Mozart, I feel, to set such a strong piece of irony, using allegory, against an escapist background. Perhaps Mozart intended that the message could be delivered, most fittingly, by first misleading the audience, and by trading on its appetite for a hopeful, magical escape into light and joy. Maybe, the great composer simply traded on the mood of the time, in order to achieve recognition, although I accept this may be a fanciful suggestion.

Mozart Engages with the Mystical Ideas of the French Philosophes

Mozart was drawn to the "Illuminati", a radical, masonic group whose founder, Adam Weishaupt, believed in the writings of the French philosophes. Mozart was mainly attracted to its mysticism, and to its emphasis on tolerance and brotherhood. For example, Tamino speaks of the "Temple of Wisdom"... "these columns prove that wisdom, industry and art reside here." Also, the Temple of Wisdom is sub-divided into Temples of Reason and Nature. Sarastro speaks of Tamino, who... "wishes to tear from himself the veil of night and look into the sanctuary of supreme light." He entreats Isis and Osiris to grant that spirit of wisdom to the pair.

Therefore, we have a simple tale of two royal lovers who manage to overcome awful complications and evil, in order to achieve the precious goals of self-knowledge and true love.

Darkness is Ignorant and Light is Joy

In line with other Enlightenment works, the music in The Magic Flute uses high pitch and loudness to depict light and joy, but a lower, solemn, minor pitch to show how darkness equates with ignorance. The portrayal of darkness and light, and wisdom and ignorance, in The Magic Flute, does not, of course, encounter the problems of a symphony, or an oratorio, such as Haydn's The Creation. The visual stage effects which accompany the music and intensify and enhance the musical description, help the transition from darkness to light, from ignorance to wisdom, and can show us the intense drama of the journey.

The upward leaps in the music in Tamino's aria, which are meant to convey yearning or searching, are also symbolic of the Enlightenment; The search for love is an analogy of the Enlightenment search for truth. The flute itself is another symbol: "Oh, such a flute is worth more than gold or crowns, for by its power, human joy and contentment will be increased." This shows a turning away from materialism and into spiritual matters like love and human, spiritual happiness.

The essence of the Enlightenment is summed up in Sarastro's lines in the Finale. "The rays of the sun drive out the night and destroy the hypocrite's false power." In these powerful words, we have the concept, yet again, of light over darkness and the destruction of the power of falsehood, which lies at the centre of evil.

Sources:

• Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, The Magic Flute, First Performed in December, 1791.
• The Enlightenment - An Anthology, The Open University, Milton Keynes, 1990.

Brighton Argus on Victorian Contempt for Mannish Women

Public Domain Old Postcard Wikimedia Origin Unknown

Bicycle-riding, divided-skirt, short-haired, cigarette-smoking mannish women - how dare they model themselves on men, on their physique and independence! 

On 19 June, 1895, an article appeared in the Brighton's Argus newspaper entitled "Women Past or Present." The article consisted of a scathing attack, which was a comparison of the current modern woman with "our grandmothers." The author, an upper-class Victorian lady, gives full vent to her fury.

Author, Lady Greville, says that she has great contempt for the mannish women of the day, who should look to the women of the past for a lesson in ladylike behaviour.

"Many women have wished they had been born men, with man's physique, his independence, his strengths, his advantages and capabilities, but surely no sensible woman could wish to resemble an emasculated man, or what is commonly called a masculine female? To be advanced nowadays means to have thrown every shred of femininity to the wind, to ignore tradition, heredity, all the teachings of science and most of the lessons of experience."

Academic Excellence of Women Past

Most of the article emphasises the academic excellence of woman of the past. What it doesn't mention, is that this "excellence" depended largely on the privileges gained by a few women with access to money and to education. Since Lady Greville is protecting a point of view, she deliberately ignores this disparity. Instead she asserts that women's rebellion in the present day was found in the "sturm and drang" of life.

"Sturm and drang" means "storm and impulse," a popular German movement in literature and music which ran from 1760 to 1780. This movement was in favour of the free expression of emotion, and was intended to counter the rationalism of the Enlightenment.

Bicycle-Riding, Divided Skirt, Short-Haired, Cigarette-Smoking Mannish Women

Lady Greville continues her tirade:

"The bicycle-riding, divided-skirt, short-haired, cigarette-smoking females of today may feel themselves immensely free and congratulate themselves on their immunity from the shackles of conventionality, but is their triumph so great, is it not easily discounted when we sit down soberly and ask what it has gained in the sum of human happiness?"

Then Lady Greville roundly emphasises the "disabilities of women including stays and tears" which, she said, could not be discarded so lightly, leaving only cynicism, unreality, revolt and discontent.

Two of Lady Greville's "mannish" contemporaries were Angela Burdett-Coutts (1814-1906) a lesbian philanthropist and Harriett Rowell, also known as Miss Elphinstone-Dick, (1858-1902) who taught swimming in Brighton in the 1870s before emigrating to Australia with her lover.

Sources:

• Lady Greville "Women Past and Present" The Argus, Brighton, 19 June 1895.
• Adapted from: Cameron, Janet, LGBT Brighton and Hove, Amberley Publishing, 2010.

Percy Lefroy Mapleton Commits a Shocking Outrage on the Brighton Line

The news broke in the Brighton Guardian on Wednesday 29 June 1881 with the headline: SHOCKING OUTRAGE ON THE BRIGHTON LINE. The paper speculated on this terrible crime committed in the early evening of the previous Monday morning, described as a crime ‘enshrouded in mystery’.

            'Isaac Frederick Gold, a coin dealer of 64 years lived at ‘Titchfield’, 26 Claremont Terrace. On 27 June 1881, the unfortunate businessman set off homeward on the London to Brighton express train. At this stage, no one knew much about what actually happened, except that the train stopped at Preston Park, where a ticket collector, Arthur Gibson, joined the train.

On opening a first class carriage, Arthur found a young man inside, besmeared with blood and showing signs of having had a struggle with someone. The young man told Arthur Gibson that he and another man, Mr. Gold had had a fearful encounter with a man on the train, but the man had succeeded in making his escape. The stationmaster, Mr. Hall, sent the ticket collector with the young man to Brighton, where the other stationmaster, Mr. Henry Anscombe, was ready to receive him. A gold chain was attached to Lefroy’s shoe, which he said he had put there ‘for safety’.

            At this time, although the police were a little suspicious, they decided that the young man, Percy Lefroy Mapleton had not committed a crime against another person. More likely, they’d decided, he had been trying to commit suicide, itself a criminal offence. Even after the discovery of the blackened body of the unfortunate coin dealer subsequently taken from Balcombe Tunnel and moved to a shed adjoining the Railway Arms Hotel at Balcombe, the police still took no action against Percy Lefroy, and he remained the only person who knew what had really happened to Isaac Frederick Gold.

A Deliberate Act of Evil

That fateful morning, occupying the smoking compartment of a first class carriage, (the third carriage of the train), Mr. Gold was later jointed by 21 year-old Percy Lefroy Mapleton. Isaac Gold wasn’t to know that this innocuous looking man had set out that morning determined to rob any poor wretch he could find. Having failed to carry out his devious plan at London Bridge, he’d decided to catch the 2.00pm train to Brighton. Once he set his sights on Mr. Gold, he must have thought it was his lucky day. Sometime, between London and Brighton, Percy Lefroy Mapleton stabbed Isaac Gold to death and stole his watch and some gold coins. When he got to Preston Park, he was seen disembarking from the carriage, blood-soaked, in a state of distress, minus his hat, collar and tie, and with a gold watch chain dragging from his shoe. He wasn’t too upset though, to convince the railway staff that he’d been attacked by two men who’d smashed him on the head and knocked him unconscious.

‘I have been murderously attacked,’ he claimed. 

Too Much Blood

Percy Lefroy Mapleton actually made a formal charge against his ‘attackers’ and offered a reward to anyone who could catch them and bring them to justice. After being interviewed by a Constable Howland and giving a description of his attackers, he went to the County Hospital. The doctors were confused thinking that the wounds were very slight yet had caused a great deal of bleeding. Percy Lefroy began to feel uneasy and invented a sudden urgent appointment in London, but first he had to go back to the police station for more interviews. The net was closing in on Percy Lefroy Mapleton, and so he went shopping to buy himself a new collar and tie and then set off for Brighton Station.

All Despite the Evidence to the Contrary

Signs of a fierce struggle in the train carriage, including blood on the floor and door handle, and a newspaper and handkerchief found in the compartment, together with three bullet marks, began to alert the police that there was something even more sinister than attempted suicide behind Percy Lefroy’s account. Further, coins similar to those found on him at the time he arrived at the Brighton Station were discovered in the compartment. Things were not looking rosy. Despite that, the police still failed to arrest him and he was escorted by a detective sergeant, George Holmes, to a boarding house run by his relatives in Wallington in Surrey.

            By now a search of the London to Preston Park Railway had been instigated and in due course the blackened body of an elderly man was found in Balcombe Tunnel. It proved, indeed, to be the stabbed corpse of Isaac Frederick Gold. It was a particularly brutal attack. The victim had a deep stab wound in his eye and his face was cut to the bone, gashed from the right ear to the lower jaw and his throat was cut. It appeared the attack took place in Merstham Tunnel and thrown out of the carriage at Balcombe. A knife was found not far from the body and this, too, was covered in blood. His watch, chain and money were all missing so the Station Master at Balcombe immediately alerted the police by telegram. 

            That night, Mrs. Gold was told and she left Preston at 10.30pm with Mr. Holes, a neighbour, on the fast train. Mr. Holes did the identification, as Mrs. Gold was unequal to this painful task.

Time for Action – at Last

After the Three Bridges Railway Station stationmaster had informed Det. Sergeant Holmes about the discovery of the body, the detective was told by the Brighton Police to keep Percy Lefroy Mapleton within his sights. The detective was not, it seems, all that bright because when Lefroy Mapleton asked him to wait outside while he changed his clothes. D.S. Holmes agreed and, of course, the cunning murderer made his escape. The Press were asked to help find him by the Director of the CID. The Daily Telegraph made the following appeal with a description, (as reproduced with grateful thanks to Wikipedia and verified) 

‘Aged 22, middle height, very thin, sickly appearance, scratches on throat, wounds on head, probably clean-shaved, low felt hat, black coat, teeth much discoloured… He is very round shouldered, and his thin overcoat hangs in awkward folds about his spare figure. His forehead and chin are both receding. He has a slight moustache, and very small dark whiskers. His jawbones are prominent, his cheeks sunken and sallow, and his teeth fully exposed when laughing. His upper lip is thin and drawn inwards. His eyes are grey and large. His gait is singular; he is inclined to slouch and when not carrying a bag, his left hand is usually in his pocket. He generally carries a crutch stick.’ 

            In addition to this description, the paper printed an artist’s impression. This resulted in plethora of false claims by people convinced they had spotted the murderer.

The Inquest on Isaac Gold

The Coroner was Wynne Edwin Baxter, who opened the inquest on Isaac Gold on 29 June 1881 and the proceedings lasted several days. The police officers involved in the case including Det. Sergeant Holmes, were soundly castigated for their inefficiency and a verdict of wilful murder was returned on Percy Lefroy Mapleton. As a result the Railway Company offered a handsome reward for his capture.

Capture

Lefroy Mapleton had found himself lodgings at a house at 32 Smith Street, Stepney giving an alias of ‘Park’. The murderer had sent a telegram to his employer for the forwarding of his salary and this was his undoing, negating his precautions of keeping the blinds drawn and only venturing out after dark. When the police entered the premises, they discovered his bloodstained clothes, but he refused to talk except to deny his guilt.

The Trial

Before the Lord Chief Justice at Maidstone Assizes, Lefroy Mapleton was found guilty within ten minutes after the jury retired, after evidence from witnesses from the Railway company and the police. A woman said she had seen two men struggling in the train as it passed her home. The evidence against him was more than enough for a firm conviction.

            Lefroy Mapleton had needed money and only intended to rob someone at London Bridge, preferably a female who would be an easier target. Since there was no victim suitable, he’d attacked Isaac Gold. Despite his penury, he managed to appear in Court in full evening dress, hoping to impress the jury, including wearing a silk hat, no doubt he found it fitting since he was the godson of Sir John Lefroy, Governor of Tasmania.

Final Moments

Percy Lefroy Mapleton was hanged at Lewes on 29 November 1881 by William Marwood. According to an eyewitness account (with grateful thanks for a reproduction from the Daily Telegraph of 30 November, 1881, on the excellent www.mytimemachine.co.uk website, editor Mark Crail), Marwood took great pride in his work. He placed the leather belt around the murderer’s body and fastened his elbows and wrists, leaving his neck bare. It was almost nine o’clock, the clergyman was ready and two warders on hand, one either side of the condemned man. Everyone was waiting, the sheriff and the governor of the jail, the magistrate and the surgeon. Lefroy Mapleton may have worn his best evening garb for his trial but for his execution he was just a poor young man in an old grey tweed suit, tightly pinioned, with bruised wrists and hair disarranged. He was unshaven and with a ghastly pallor. The ‘terrors of death’ were particularly noticeable,’ reports the eyewitness, and continues: ‘He could scarcely take the step which was to place him where he had never stood before and from where he would never step again, and Marwood, who at no instant let go of the belt, was fain once more to push him forward.’

Marwood placed the prisoner under the cross tree. As he took up his position beneath the fatal beam with the assistance of Marwood, Percy Lefroy asked, ‘Will the rope break?’ The executioner simply replied, ‘No.’ Then Marwood had to stoop to secure his legs and then he placed the white cap over the victim’s face. The rope was adjusted and the thimble, through which the rope ran, placed beneath his neck. As the hood went over his head, Lefroy Mapleton lifted up his head, his lips moving as though in prayer. As the clergyman prayed, the lever was pulled back, the trap opened and the victim fell into the vault below, his neck immediately broken. Despite the suddenness of death, the eyewitness felt the preparations had been cruelly prolonged. ‘It was a tedious and horrible form of execution,’ he concluded. The coffin, according to the eyewitness, was a perfect fit. Lefroy Mapleton had been measured for it and placed in it, just to make sure, a few minutes before his execution.

At the Whim of the Executioner

Marwood, Percy Lefroy Mapleton’s executioner, used the long-drop method and death was instantaneous. Some executioners, for example, the notorious William Calcraft (1800-1879) preferred to make a proper spectacle of their handiwork for their own twisted satisfaction and the delectation of their admirers. Calcraft used the short-drop method and made his victims ‘dance’ for him and some of them took several minutes to die by slow strangulation instead of the broken neck effected by the long-drop. Calcraft practised his grisly vocation from 1824 for forty-five years and was said to be very fond of children.

Footnote: William Marwood hated the press and it is claimed he once said he would die happy once he had hanged a reporter.

Execution – An Entertaining Day Out

Until 1868, when an Act of Parliament decreed that executions should take place behind the prison walls as in the case of Percy Lefroy Mapleton, a public hanging was a spectacle and a source of popular entertainment. People went to executions to enjoy themselves and have a good day out. In the first half of the nineteenth century, people were hanged for alarmingly minor offences and often these were multiple hangings. In both the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, children also suffered the death penalty for murder, arson, highway robbery and property crimes. This tragic part of our history includes two children; a boy and girl aged seven and eleven, being hanged at Kings Lynn on 18 September 1708 – for theft. So maybe, although there was still far to go, the Victorians were beginning to move towards a more compassionate and informed morality.

Note:

On 29 May 1868, the Capital Punishment within Prisons Bill was passed by Parliament to end public hangings in Britain and all future executions would be carried out behind prison walls. The last public execution in Britain was that of Michael Barrett, who’d attempted to blow up Clerkenwell Prison, killing four passers-by and injuring many more. The first private hanging was carried out at Maidstone Prison two months later when a Dover railway porter was hanged for murdering a stationmaster. (See Dover – Murder & Crime by Janet Cameron)

Sources:
Cameron, Janet, Brighton and Hove, Murders and Misdemeanours, Amberley Publishing, 2008.

Shipwrecks of Sussex - a Tragic Legacy

The Sussex Coast. What lies beneath?
Image copyright Janet Cameron

4,000 ships lie beneath Sussex seas, wrecked by jagged cliffs, sandbanks and treacherous weather. Wendy Hughes' book reveals some intriguing stories.

    

The coastline covered in Wendy Hughes' book stretches from Chichester in West Sussex, through Brighton and Hove in East Sussex, and as far as Rye; waters that have been described as "the diver's paradise." Some of the most spectacular wrecks occurred at Seven Sisters (a range of high Sussex cliffs) and also at the famous and notorious suicide spot, Beachy Head. These areas are plagued by unpredictable currents and south-westerly winds. The earliest known wreck of the Sussex coast was the Marie of Santander in 1368, and later a Dutch ship was lost in 1617 around Birling Gap.

The Battle of Beachy Head

In 1690, the British warship, the Anne was lost during the Battle of Beachy Head. The Anne was built by Charles II and launched in Chatham in 1678. She was named for the Princess Anne who lived from 1665 to 1714. The Anne sported seventy guns and In 1688, when James II fled England, William of Orange and his wife Mary arrived to claim the English throne. As William of Orange and Louis XIV of France were sworn enemies, war ensued, resulting in the famous Battle of Beachy Head. The French were victorious on this occasion - although not to any remarkable degree since the Anglo-Dutch fleet lost only lost one vessel. Unfortunately, a few more, including the Anne, had to be scuppered to keep them out of the hands of the French.

Extreme Weather Causes the Seven Ships Disaster

On Tuesday 5 December 1809, HMS Harlequin, a ship-sloop, was escorting a convoy from Plymouth to the eastern end of the English Channel, with several passengers including small children on board. Altogether, the convoy comprised twenty-three ships. The weather became turbulent and some of the heavy ships made little headway. On Wednesday evening the convoy encountered hurricane-force winds, and while temperatures plummeted, sleet and rain hindered visibility. The Harlequin did its best, firing its cannon to alert the convoy of her position. Fog rose up and thickened causing the commander, Lieutenant Anstruther, to believe the fleet had cleared treacherous Beachy Head.

The six leading vessels behind the Harlequin were the Unice, Albion, Weymouth, February, Traveller, and the Midbedacht. Eventually, all seven ships ran aground in Seaford Bay in violent surf with the howling wind ripping up the sails and masts. The vessels crashed together causing chaos. Captain Anstruther's last log entry reads: "Signal guns fired and flares to warn convoy. We have serious hull damage reports from below and mid-ships."

The rest of the ships heard the warning cannon fire and sailed unharmed past Beachy Head. Despite the chaos in the Bay, there were many acts of bravery, and everyone who could be saved was taken safely ashore by locals. The fate of each of the ships is recorded in the book.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Some ships were simply victims of hostile world events. The First and Second World Wars claimed a number of casualties. One such victim was the Shirala, which left London on Sunday 30 June 1918, dropping anchor near Gravesend on the Thames to collected goods, ammunition and a few passengers. On 2 July - recorded as being "a perfect day" - an explosion tore the ship's port side, followed by a further hit on the starboard side. The engine room was suddenly flooded and the stricken ship sank, just five miles off Littlehampton. What is particularly ironic is that she had adopted a zig-zag route to avoid being hit by a U-boat.

A Delight for Shipping Enthusiasts

Shipwrecks of Sussex is a detailed and carefully-researched account, but not only about the disastrous and tragic loss of fine ships and human life. It also provides a fascinating glimpse into human nature and how human beings are capable of acts of great wickedness and also of extreme courage under duress.

Source:

• Shipwrecks of Sussex, Wendy Hughes, The History Press, 2011.