The Dover and Folkestone Mutinies of the First World War

 

Copyright Janet Cameron, Family Album

Desperate men took desperate measures to escape further enforced conscription and get home to their loved ones.

Certain crimes of the past seem to us today not to be crimes at all, for example, the mutiny of the troops during and after the terrible carnage of the First World War. Nor were mutinies confined to Britain. German, Italian, French and Russian soldiers were shot in large numbers as a result of refusing to fight, or walking off the battlefields.  Sixty British soldiers were shot for cowardice and desertion during 1916. A year later, the number was 221, and in 1918, there were 676 executions. After 40,000 French troops had withdrawn from fighting in 1917, the British Army bore the brunt of the war, so it is hardly surprising the figures escalated as the war drew to a close.

Grievances and Harsh Discipline

Once the Armistice was declared in November 1918, the soldiers wanted to get home to their loved ones as quickly as possible. At his election, with the intention of courting votes, Lloyd George had promised them exactly that, but the military had other ideas. There was talk of men being sent to fight the Bolsheviks in Russia, and although it was promised that only volunteers would be enlisted, common knowledge indicated that men were being conscripted unwillingly.

A soldier in Shoreham in West Sussex, enraged by the treatment of one of his comrades by an officer, walked out. It took the efforts of a general to calm the men down. The soldiers stood their ground, and, next day, 1,000 men were demobilised. A few weeks later, there were disturbances at Dover and Folkestone. The Folkestone soldiers had many grievances against the harsh discipline of their officers, as well as poor living conditions in the camp and the fear of being sent off to fight again. Soon, the harsh news that Folkestone soldiers were to be sent back to France caused further agitation.

A Desperate Protest Against Injustice by Folkestone Soldiers

The men announced that, until their demands were taken seriously, no military vessel would be permitted to leave from Folkestone for France, and they followed this up by planting pickets around the harbour. Men arriving back from the battlefields of France joined the demonstrators in their protest.

The men were surprisingly patient. Without undue force, they managed to repel fusiliers armed with bayonets and ball cartridges sent to discipline them. A procession of around 10,000 men set off to march through Folkestone, with the support of the people. The soldiers formed a union with officials of their own.  Sir William Robertson duly arrived from the War Office to hear their demands. He allowed the men to elect demobilisation committees from their own numbers.

Dover Soldiers Support their Folkestone Comrades

Meanwhile, 4,000 Dover soldiers, equally disillusioned with the futility of their situation and the harsh conditions at camp, stood firm in support of the Folkestone soldiers. The Dover men held a meeting at the harbour station to form a deputation, and they, too, decided to march in procession, presenting themselves at the Town Hall to confront the mayor. It is recorded that they were entertained with some welcoming piano music, and invited to attend a film at a nearby cinema.

The politician, Horatio Bottomley, MP, was known as "the soldiers' friend", and he helped to calm the situation. Ministry of Labour officials rushed the paperwork so the men could be demobilised. The Dover and Folkestone soldiers became role models for a number of other troops, and the War Office was beside itself with the protests. Before long, many other desperate soldiers were discharged and allowed home to their families.

Source:

• Dover Library Archives
• Dover - Murder and Crime, The History Press, Janet Cameron

 

The Chanctonbury Ring - a Site of Primeval Power

If you climb Chanctonbury Hill in West Sussex, you might come across a Witches' Sabbat. A witch explains that sex is a great rite and a powerful form of magic, but you have to know how to handle it!

The Magic Circle by John William Waterhouse 1886  Public Domain

The Chanctonbury Ring is a hill fort based ring of trees on the top of Chanctonbury Hill in the South Downs of West Sussex. A Mrs. Valiante, appeared in a review in the Argus newspaper, describing herself as a practising witch. She told how the sacred landmark was a favourite spot for witches' covens. "I became a witch many years ago... I have danced at the Witches' Sabbat on many occasions and I find enjoyment in it. I have stood under the stars at midnight and invoked the old gods and I have found in the invocation of the most primeval powers, those of life, love and death, an uplifting of consciousness that no orthodox religious service has ever given me." The review comments that 300 years ago, Mrs. Valiante would have been burnt at the stake for making such a statement.
     The most well-known legend, appearing in many sources of Sussex folklore, is that if you go to the ring at midnight and run around it several times, the Devil would appear and offer you something to eat and drink. "A bowl of soup," says Mrs. Valiante, "which sounds rather prosaic unless the contents of a witches' cauldron are intended."  Anyone who accepts the Devil's gift becomes his forever.

A New Enlightened Society

The author said it was difficult to know how many practising witches there are today (1973) because there was no central leadership, and while some covens sought publicity, others shunned it. She said we were advancing towards a new regenerated and enlightened society that repudiated the old persecution of witches. Witchcraft was a druid-like religion centred on nature worship, a belief in reincarnation, a philosophy and a way of life. 
     Achaeologists have discovered the Chanctonbury Ring was a site of a Romano-British temple. During the 1970s, there were also a number of articles about witchcraft as a Black Art invoking the Devil and many other unpleasant practices - although none of these articles are included here. Some things are best left well alone.

Sex and Witchcraft

Mrs. Valiante was also featured in an article by John Wellington in The Brighton and Hove Gazette dated 3 August 1979 where she talked about the use of sex in witchcraft rituals. 
     "I think that young people may want to have sex at rituals. The older ones prefer not to. I think we were more inhibited in my day. The world may be catching up with us," she said. "But in the old days they would have a great Sabbat and a terrific festival." Mrs. Valiante agreed the festivals often turned into orgies, although she was unhappy using that word.

     Her initiation into witchcraft was in 1953, and to her knowledge there were three covens in Brighton, each comprising between three and thirteen witches. She added that witchcraft was older than the druids, in fact its history stretched back into prehistoric times. "Sex is the great rite. It is a powerful form of magic - but you have to know how to handle it," she warned.

     Other sightings at Washington near Chanctonbury Ring include Caesar and his entire army, sounds of the hooves of unseen horses and phantom druids.

Valiante, Doreen, The ABC of Witchcraft, Robert Hale, 1973.

Wellington, John, The Brighton and Hove Gazette, 3 August 1979.

"Review" The Argus, 12 April, 1973.

Swimming Witches - Proof by Death of Guilt or Innocence

In Englnd witches were hanged, but on the Continent they were burned.
Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=596910

Thousands of innocent women, as well as a number of men, suffered horrific deaths after being branded as witches in 16th and 17th century Britain.

In the 16th and 17th centuries, the practice of "swimming" to catch witches was a no-win situation for many women, who may only have offended a malicious neighbour, or been branded a "scold" by their husbands. It is also claimed that twenty-five per cent of accusations of witchcraft were made by children informing on their relatives. It can be imagined how terrified mothers, aunts and grandmothers must have been of punishing the children too harshly.

If a woman sank and drowned, her innocence was proven as she was hauled out, dead, by a rope around her waist. Many did drown, so that their names were cleared in death. If a woman floated and was deemed guilty, she would be brought to trial to be hanged or burned at the stake.

Generally, women in Britain were hanged, while those on the continent were burned.

Witches, it was claimed, appealed for the intervention of evil spirits, performing diabolical rites on the Witches' Sabbath, which parodied the Mass and the practices of the Orthodox Christian Church, They repudiated Jesus and the sacraments in their pursuit of the Prince of Darkness, who rewarded them with supernatural powers.

Burning and Pricking of Innocent Women

The usual method of burning witches was to tie the condemned woman to a stake and surround her with faggots so her death agonies were hidden from sight by a wall of flames. Death may have come from shock or from burned lungs as she inhaled the smoke.

"Pricking" was another way of identifying witches, because people believed that witches bore the mark of the devil on their body, and that this area was impervious to pain. To this end, no part of the body was considered sacred, and the accused had to endure being stripped naked and brutally exposed to pain and humiliation.

30,000 to 50,000 witches were executed between the fifteenth and the nineteenth centuries by a number of grisly methods, burning, strangulation, beheading or hanging. Most of the persecuted were women, but around twenty per cent were men. Almost all of their confessions were extracted by torture.

The "Swimming" of Old Nell Garlinge

In Coldred, a small village of the outskirts of the Port of Dover in Kent, the village pond was regularly used for swimming during witch trials to establish guilt by whether the accused floated or sank. In the 1640s, an elderly woman, Nell Garlinge, was tightly bound, her thumbs and toes being tied crosswise, and then she was hurled into the water. Nell drowned, and was pronounced innocent! The village pond where Nell and other poor women met their fate still exists, although, fortunately, the only swimming taking place today is by the ducks.

Nell's tragic story appears on Coldred's historic notice board by the pond.

In 1736, the law against witchcraft was repealed, although the witch-hunts continued. The last recorded witch to be hanged in England was Alice Molland in 1686.

Sources:

Folklore from historic plaques, word of mouth, Coldred, Kent.

This Sceptred Isle, Christopher Lee, Penguin Books, 1997.

Victims of the Press Gangs

Recently I saw the remake of Ben Hur, much maligned by many reviewers. Well, maybe it wasn't gory enough for them. Actually, I enjoyed it, it was quite gory enough for me, and, anyway, I don't like too much blood and violence on the screen. 

I was very moved by the awful conditions of the slave galleys endured by Ben Hur for many years, and how helpless the men were, and the fact they had so little protection from the outside forces, from storms, vicious battles and cruel masters. Ben Hur may be fiction (based on a factual background) but it wasn't so long ago such conditions were rife around our shores and all too real. Here's a piece about the capture of men around the White Cliffs of Dover by the Press Gangs.

The Battlements of Dover Castle, Copyright Janet Cameron

Trapped inside a dank, dark hole, beneath an iron grating, secured by an iron bar and padlock, it was no fun being abducted by the ruthless but legal British press gang.

Imagine the terror of being physically torn from your friends and family and everything familiar and precious to you. Your captors are a bunch of swarthy bullies and you are being hauled to an evil place, thick with pestilence and filthy smells. You know that this will be your prison for the time being, a dank, dark hole, where you are trapped behind an iron grating firmly secured by an iron bar and padlock. You become part of a disgusting mass of writhing human bodies, all as terrified as you are, screaming and fighting and cursing and, like you, smelling of fear.

You haven't murdered anyone, assaulted anyone, or even stolen a miserable loaf of bread. On the contrary, your only crime is to be a seaman. You have fallen victim to the horrible and entirely legal practices of the press gang, for the British Navy was desperate for men. 

A Trade in Human Misery

Press gangs operated in Dover and, in fact, plied their trade in human misery in fifty ports around the British coastline. The only exemptions accepted by the Admiralty were foreigners, who were excused by a law passed in 1740, although later this was modified to permit aliens to be pressed if they had served on a British merchant ship for at least two years.  

Foreigners were also liable if they had married a British woman, and it is claimed some unfortunate seamen were pressed on their honeymoons. Sometimes, foreigners unfamiliar with the English language, remained in the Royal Navy because they were unable to insist upon seeing a consul.

Documents of release for successful applicants carried a detailed description of the man on the back to avoid their being sold to a non-exempted seaman. Each major port had a captain, who was paid one pound a day, and each smaller port employed a lieutenant for five shillings a day, plus two shillings and ninepence subsistence. In 1799, the captain at Dover was Benjamin Hulke. Senior officers, like captains and lieutenants, were called Regulating Officers and the headquarters of the local Impress Service was known as "the Rendezvous." Each would supervise a midshipman and gangs of men. Sometimes a bargain would be made with the gangers, promising them exemption in return for their services as pressmen.

Locals Get Wise to the Tactics of the Pressmen

Once the gang were known by the Dover locals, lookouts were stationed along the coast to give warnings if one of the King's ships anchored nearby. Pressmen were forced to roam the surrounding villages, since most of the qualified seamen would have taken off to hide elsewhere. The gangers received "road money" of one penny a mile, while officers did a little better with three.

Those captured were first escorted and imprisoned in the Rendezvous until the Regulating Officer could take a look at them to certify them for service. If a man tried to plead infirmity or illness, the local surgeon would examine him for a shilling. As soon as the Articles of War had been read to the unfortunate seaman - whether or not he was in any state to hear or understand them - then he was in the service of the King. No provision whatsoever would be made for his abandoned family. Once a seaman had been pressed into the service, however unwillingly, insubordination would be harshly punished by flogging or even execution.

Power and Profit

Ruthless locals became informers for a reward or for the sake of settling a dispute. It was dangerous for young men to be fast with the affections of the local women, or for a man to be unfaithful to his wife. It was also dangerous if a man had the seaman's distinctive, rolling gait, which picked him out for pressing.

When the Navy was especially desperate for hands, the gangers' pay went up. Their power was enormous; one word and a man's fate was sealed - a stint in the Royal Navy that could last for many years. Those rich enough could bribe the officers with goods or money, but for the poor, the only prospect was that dank, dark prison in the bowels of the Royal Navy ship, prior to setting sail for the high seas.

Sources:

• Waugh, Mary, Smuggling in Kent and Sussex, 1700-1840, Countryside Books, 1985.
• Gray, Adrian, Crime and Criminals in Victorian Kent, Meresborough Books 1976 and 1982.
• Jessup, F.W. A History of Kent, Phillimore & Co. Ltd. 1995
• Copyright Janet Cameron

Grim Beauty Routines of Past Times

Fashionable Ladies, 1935 Photo copyright Janet Cameron (family album)

Today, whether we favour a natural look or a more sophisticated style for evening or party wear, it's a matter of personal preference and the emphasis is on purity and safety, but it wasn't always like that. The use of cosmetics is recorded from the time of the Ancient Egyptians 4000 years ago when pale make-up was fashionable, and this trend followed through to the Roman and Greek periods. A healthy bloom indicated you belonged to the poorer classes and so whitewash or chalk was used to make the skin lighter.The Ancient Egyptian equivalent for kohl and mascara was a black sulphide called antimony that was painted onto eyelids and eyelashes.

A fashionable Renaissance beauty

In the seventeenth century, powder mixed with egg white was densely pasted onto the skin by fashionable beauties - a forerunner, maybe, of the thick pancake make-up some of us wore in the sixties. During the Renaissance, there was a horrifying trend when arsenic became a key ingredient in the skin-bleaching process. White lead was also used to lighten the skin, but it wasn't just the skin that needed to be light. Although henna was sometimes used in Roman times, blonde hair was especially favoured. Ladies lightened their hair using a mixture of goat's milk and beech tree ashes, which they applied with a sponge to remove their colour.

In the eighteenth century, slices of mouseskin were pasted on to improve the eyebrows and pads of pitch balls slipped inside the cheeks to plump the face.

Queen Victoria says cosmetics are improper and vulgar

As the Victorian era loomed, women began to use suncream, sunhats and sunshades to preserve the whiteness of their skin, and they might use a little beet juice as blush - but not too much because that would be considered indecent! Queen Victoria vehemently opposed the use of cosmetics. She said it was 'improper, vulgar and acceptable only for use by actors.'

During the twentieth century, women's cosmetics began to evolve commercially and manufactured loose powder, pressed powder, lipstick and eye pencil graced every fashionable young woman's dressing table. Hair continued to be elaborately styled. In the 1940s many women teased their hair into gravity-defying piles of waves at the front. This was achieved by using special steel combs that worked on a spring, so that two sets of rather vicious-looking teeth gripped wet hair and it would dry to a tight, wavy effect. Probably, it wasn't good for the hair, but the effect was stunning. Longer hair was popularly teased into a page-boy, with a soft, graduated cut that framed the face.

Some men also styled their hair into tiny, wavy ridges, parallel to the forehead and back over the top of the head. People called them 'spivs', a derogatory term of the period when real men weren't expected to take too much interest in their appearance.

'Which Twin has the Toni?' - A 1950s guessing game.

In the fifties, many of us were having Toni Home Perms, no doubt influenced by the famous newspaper advertisements, 'Which Twin has the Toni?' The twins in the illustration had each had a perm, but one would be a professional wave from an expensive hairdresser costing about £10, while the other would sport a Toni Home Perm at a fraction of the price - but identical. The reader was invited to identify the Toni home permanent from the professional perm. Once you'd bought the first pack which contained the curlers, you could then buy Toni refills even cheaper, a boon for busy young mums who wanted to look smart. Even some children were allowed to have a 'Toni'.

The application of the perm was a day-long process. You had to wind the curlers tightly around end-papers, which were little squares of strong tissue, which got sopping wet when you soaked your hair in the perm solution, dabbed on gently with cotton wool to avoid dislodging the curlers. In spite of the prolonged rinsing, once your perm had 'taken', its smell permeated the house for ages. When the man of the house came home from work, he knew immediately what the women had been up to. For women it was fun, a time to chat and drink tea and not worry about the housework or ironing for a few hours.

In complete contrast, around the sixties, the beehive made an appearance, in response to the fashion for big hair. Back-combed and lacquered into a tall helmet on top of the head, it was fixed with a great number of hairgrips into a long pleat at the back. It gained popularity when gorgeous Audrey Hepburn wore the style in the 1961 film, Breakfast at Tiffany's. Girls suddenly became statuesque, often wearing high stiletto heels as well as the additional height on top. Husbands and boyfriends complained if their partners were taller than themselves.

Carmen Rollers and Cilla Black

If your hair wasn't long enough for a beehive, then a bouffant style was the next best thing, achieved by the use of large rollers blasted with heat to set the style in place, before being sprayed liberally with hair lacquer. Many women's Christmas lists had a set of Carmen Heated Rollers at the top. The young Cilla Black's hair was an example of the perfect bouffant. Since those days, there have been many notable hair fashions, including the glorious Afro that had to be poked out into a huge halo with a special wide-toothed comb. Mostly hair was high maintenance, requiring time and money to meet the fashion requirements of the period.

Probably the most maligned hairstyle ever was the mullet - short and spiky on top and long, untidy layers over the collar, popular in the '70s and '80s. Today, with expert hairdressing techniques, a good cut and a pair of straightening irons, hair is mostly hassle-free. We don't need to worry about the wind flattening our hairdo anymore, or about sleeping awkwardly with pins of wiry curlers sticking into our scalps. Its wonderful to have good hair without sacrificing our sleep for our looks.

Although - I have heard that Big Hair is coming back into fashion.

Sources for pre-1950s beauty practices:

A Fashionable History of Make Up and Body Decoration by Helen Reynolds, Raintree, 2003

'The demands of fashion' The Covent Garden Minuet Company (article) www.minutecompany.org

An Amateur Burial in Brighton

Copyright Janet Cameron

An action was brought against a bereaved father and his friend as reported in the Brighton Herald of 11 February 1860.  The case was heard by Dr. Lushington on 8 February, and the defendants were grocer James Clem Friend, the bereaved father and his friend, Richard Ballard, who was a miller.

Dr. Phillimore Q.C. was prosecuting. He was appearing on behalf of Mr. Johnson, secretary to the Bishop of Chichester, who had instituted the suit to vindicate the law.

An Unbaptised Child

The defendants were both charged with having, in the month of December 1859, collected an assembly of persons in the churchyard of Patcham, and without authority, burying the body of an unbaptised child, son of James Friend, and performing a burial service over the corpse.

The men had admitted in writing that they had committed this offence. In view of this prompt admission, the Bench said that the prisoners should be dealt with as leniently as possible.

The Clergyman's Prerogative

Dr. Phillimore stated that the clergyman of the parish, with the approval of the Bishop, had offered on this occasion to offer every possible sympathy and respect for the parents, provided it was not inconsistent with his duty. 

The parties had acted in defiance of the law and threatened to do the same in the future. It was necessary to have recourse to the Court to prevent a repetition. Not to do so could lead to serious irregularities and desecration since only a clergyman can perform any services or any rites on consecrated ground.

The Verdict

Therefore, Dr. Phillimore said he must ask the Court to administer such an admonition and to ensure the two parties appearing before them were made to pay the costs.  Dr. Lushington agreed that the two men had acted illegally by burying the child and publicly performing a burial service at the same time.

An admonition was given and a warning not to repeat the offence. They were ordered to pay the costs of the case.

Percy Lefroy Mapleton - The Horrible Railway Murderer

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.