St Sepulchre without Newgate. Thomas Culpepper and the Tudor love triangle.

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Saint Sepulchre without Newgate is located just outside the old city walls of London. The church barely survived the great fire of 1666 before heavy renovation in the 19th century. A slab of wall from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem hangs on a central pillar honouring the holy site of which the church takes its name. The Old Bailey is opposite, built on the site where the medieval Newgate gaol once stood. Such proximity to establishments of justice gives St Sepulchre a long history of crime and punishment. The church bell would toll to announce that an execution had taken place while the clerk of the parish would be tasked with ringing a hand bell outside the cell of a condemned prisoner. The bell now sits proudly in a glass display cabinet in the church’s nave having been silenced of its tormenting ring of impending death. During the reign of Mary I the church vicar was convicted of heresy and burnt alive at the stake. For centuries the church tower which reaches to the heavens would have been the final sight of earthly holiness for those dragged to their doom convinced that their crimes condemned them to hell. Executed prisoners were often buried in the churchyard without memorial which has since been paved over as a garden of remembrance to the Royal Fusiliers. City workers in suits sit in the garden enjoying their lunchtime sandwiches oblivious to the convicted bones hidden deep below their feet.

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Thomas Culpepper was born the second of three sons in Kent in 1514. He grew up to be handsome and much desired courtier of King Henry VIII securing himself as one of the king’s favourites after a successful career obtaining precious and rare items for the royal family. He had also amassed a long line of female admirers. Catherine Howard was a young maiden to Henry’s fated fourth wife Ann of Cleeves. The marriage was a disaster which ended in humiliation and a hasty annulment. Catherine was beautiful, flirtatious and no stranger to romantic controversy. In her youth she had caused a scuffle between her music tutor and a gentleman servitor. They had both fallen for her and it ended in a prophetic scene of jealously, anger and violence. She was also a distant cousin of Thomas Culpepper however this did not prevent an intense attraction emerging between the two. Gossip spread around court culminating in rumours of marriage. However it all fizzled out as Catherine had a much more prestigious partner in her focus: King Henry himself. Even for Henry VIII Catherine Howard was quite a catch. By 1540 the king was an old and overweight fraction of the physical specimen he had once been. His doomed marriage to Ann of Cleeves had been a crushing disappointment and Catherine at thirty years his junior provided the perfect lustful antidote. They married and Catherine became his queen.

The summer of 1540 was hot and dry. Cattle died of thirst. Peasants died of plague. But for the infatuated Henry and his new queen life couldn’t be better as the conditions were perfect for a prolonged hunting season. A French ambassador noted that the king “is so amorous of her that he cannot treat her well enough and caresses her more than he did the others”. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Life was good for Henry but during a progress north in 1541  curious goings on began to occur. Locks had been fiddled with. Lights and movement had been spotted from the Queens’ apartments in the middle of the night. Stairway doors had been left ajar. Bedroom doors were bolted. There had been comings and goings in the middle of the night while the King slept in his chamber. It was all a bit suspicious. On top of this a ghost of Catherine’s past reared his unwelcome head. Francis Dereham, the gentleman servitor from Catherine’s youth, appeared at court and begun causing scenes with his uncouth behaviour of hanging around a bit too long after meals in the Queen’s presence. When reprimanded for such improper behaviour he lashed out claiming that he’d known the queen long before anybody else. This raised some eyebrows. In what way had he known her?

While attending All Souls’ Day mass Henry found a damning letter on his seat. It contained sensational allegations against his Queen. While investigations into her past ensued Catherine would have been equally concerned about what she had been up to in the present. Under intense examination Dareham blabbed. He had “carnal knowledge” of the queen from the days before she had arrived at the royal court. A furious Henry had the pair imprisoned. The problem for Henry was that the affair had happened before his marriage to Catherine therefore It couldn’t be considered treason. He needed proof of a relationship taking place after the royal wedding. To gather more evidence he had Darehan brutally persecuted which lead to an even deeper secret emerging. Once again Dareham said too much although in his defence this time it was under the excruciating pain of torture. There HAD been an affair after the marriage but not with him, it was with Catherine’s old flame Thomas Culpepper. He had been the sneaking lover making things go bump in the night. The true extent of Catherine and Culpepper’s forbidden romance was never fully revealed. She proclaimed that it didn’t extend further than the exchange of lover’s tokens and amorous letters. Regardless the king had been deceived which was enough to warrant treason. They all had to be punished.

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Thomas Culpepper would have heard the clang of the execution bell outside his cell at Newgate on the 10th December 1541. He would have been paraded on a hurdle along Oxford Street towards Tyburn (where Marble Arch stands today) while a baying crowd gathered with raucous excitement. They were here to see the execution of traitors. Dareham joined him. His crime had been nothing more sinister than to sleep with a young woman who at the time wasn’t married yet he suffered the worst punishment physically possible. he was hung by a noose then cut down just before reaching the point of strangulation. From here, with a cheer of vengeful glee from the crowd, he was castrated. At this point, while still conscious, he was disembowelled, his torso and stomach sliced open and his organs torn away. Only after this grotesque display of agony was he finally beheaded.
Hung.
Drawn.
Quartered.
Dareham’s execution was an act of such terrifying gore and violence that Culpepper had pleaded for mercy from the king. His plea was granted and he avoided subjection to the full works. A simple beheading preferable next to Dareham’s gruesome death. It almost seems like an act of benevolent mercy in comparison. The bodies were hung from Tyburn tree for the crowd to gawp at before their dismembered heads were removed for a stint on a spike at London Bridge. Finally Thomas Culpepper was buried in the churchyard at St Sepulchre without Newgate. Catherine’s execution followed soon after. This Tudor love triangle ended in a bloody death for all involved at the hands of the king who had been betrayed.

So if you ever grab a bite to eat in the city of London and decide to munch away in the churchyard spare a thought for Thomas Culpepper and his deadly run in with king Henry VIII. Then think of all the other deceased criminals resting underneath that garden. Because every forgotten skull in the earth beside that church has its own story of how it ended up there.

Esteban.


Historical information for this story was gathered from David Starkey’s Six Wives:The Queens of Henry VIII, a fantastic book of stunning biographical depth and analysis of all of Henry’s wives.

Taphophile Tours. Cementerio de la Almudena, Madrid, Spain.

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This edition of Taphophile Tours explores the Cementerio de la Almudena (Our Lady of Almudena Cemetery) in the Spanish capital of Madrid.

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Opened in 1884 the cemetery is by far the largest in the city as well as one of the biggest in Western Europe. With approximately 5 million interments it boasts a considerably larger population than the city itself which has just over 3 million living inhabitants.
The scale of the place is totally overwhelming. It is a necropolis of bright concrete and eerie silence complete with street signs and a bus stop in the middle. The sheer size of the location cannot be understated. With row after row of identical concrete memorials each section becomes indistinguishable from the last. You turn a corner expecting to find the perimeter wall only to be faced with yet another block of tombs. Death on a city scale is unrelenting and the cemetery has to continuously expand it’s already vast area to accommodate.
mad 21 mad 23 mad 26 mad 33 mad 34When you eventually locate the permiter wall there’s no respite as the wall itself is a seemingly endless strech of tombs reaching well beyond the perifary. You can spend fifteen, twenty or even thirty minutes walking alongside the wall where the only space that isn’t an inhabited tomb is the onmious site of an empty plot waiting for a new occupant. A dark square blip in the giant mosiac of tombs. Some are decorated with ornamental flowers and splendid plaques containing photographs of the deceased while others simply contain a humble name scrawled in pen.

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The entire cemetery is testimony to the effort humans will go to create an artificial environment for themselves, even in death. Greenary is rare. The predominate colours are the grey, white and magnolia of the immense onslaught of concrete. Wildlife is limited to a few solemn birds who prey on lizards that dart between cracks in the tombs. Rare bursts of colour are provided by artificial flowers placed in metal vases.

mad 15 mad 16 mad 19 mad 28 mad 35 mad 39 mad 40 mad 42 mad 43 mad 46 mad 52A famlier character you will encounter a lot is the son of god himself. Many of the graves contain effigies or statues of Christ in various stages of discomfort and sorrow. He adorns family tombs and mausoleums as well as graves of individuals. His omnipresence along with various depictions of the Virgin Mary alludes to Spain’s strong Catholic history.

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Despite its artificial architectural structure the Cementerio de la Almudena  is well worth a visit to attempt to grasp its sheer size as well as appreciated the impressive sculptures of religious icons. Just don’t expect a quick visit and bring some form of GPS device!

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For some Taphophile Tours closer to home check out:

Taphophile Tours. Brompton Cemetery part one and part 2.
Taphophile Tours. Colchester part one and part 2.
Taphophile Tours. Kalenvankankaan Cemetery, Tampere Finland.
Trapising over Tombs. London’s best macarbe attraction.

To explore humankinds’ obsession with distancing itself from nature check out:

Exploring Essays. Nature and Man by Bertrand Russell.

Taphophile Tours. Brompton Cemetery – Part Two

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Part two of the Taphophile tour of Brompton Cemetery in West London looks at the unique features of the grandiose graveyard and ventures into it’s Victorian catacombs. The contents of which are rather gruesome.

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Inspired by St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican, the central focus of the cemetery is the open air cathedral of death known as the great circle. IT definitely lives up to it’s name. The immense crowd of crucifixes and monuments gathered within the confines of the colonnade boundary resemble a packed train station during rush hour. The number of former lives commemorated within the coliseum of impressive classical architecture makes is an immense spectacle.
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Beneath the arched walkways of the great circle lie the ominous catacombs. A failed business venture from the Victorian era catacombs were seen as a cheap alternative to traditional burial. Families could shelve their dead like old tins of tuna without forking out for an expensive ground plot and stone monument. Thousands of spaces were created beneath the main structure of the circle, like a giant pantry for corpses, however only a few hundred were ever sold. The serpent guarded iron doors at the bottom of the cracked stairwell let’s you know that there’s something sinister lurking behind those bars. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the dark abyss and a further few seconds to compute what you’re actually seeing but, yes, that’s an actual coffin rotting away right in front of you. Thick wooden caskets stacked neatly behind rusting cages. In case someone tries to escape? Each gated entrance you peer through, there’s a fair few in total, presents a scene so disturbing it’s easy to forget that these aren’t props from an extremely realistic haunted house at a fairground. The musky smell exacerbating the uneasiness. Most of us don’t see many coffins in our lifetime so to find hundreds stacked together in one place so openly is a bit of a shock. Fascinating nonetheless. In an extremely macabre way. But then again that’s the reason you peeped through the doorway in the first place. Morbid curiosity.

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Away from the gloomy seclusion of the dark catacombs is the leafy east side. In such close proximity to Stamford bridge stadium, home of Chelsea F.C, that you can’t help but wonder if particularly wayward shots at goal end up bouncing off of headstones during matches. Strolling around on game day must be an odd experience as it’s fairly unusual to visit a cemetery with the cheering of 40,000 fans in the background. Not that some of the interments would mind. Chelsea F.C founder Henry Augusus Mears is buried here and would probably be rather proud of his teams success in recent years.

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Other notable bones resting at Brompton include Victorian physician and clean freak Jon Snow. The guy responsible for adoption of anaesthesia so thank him next time you’re having a tooth pulled. Revolutionary feminist Emmeline Pankhurst. Art lover Henry Cole who not only established the nearby Victoria and Albert museum but also invented Christmas cards. So thank him next time granny sends you a little card with a robin on the front and a fiver stuffed inside.

bromp 20 bromp 30 bromp 31It is believed that renowned children’s author Beatrix Potter borrowed many of the names of her most famous characters from the headstones of Brompton gravesites. There’s an actual Peter Rabbet buried here as well as a Mr Nutkins and Jeremiah Fisher. Transport between the world of fiction and reality by paying respects to the remains of your favourite childhood characters who are named after long dead Victorian Londoners stuck in the ground long before you were even born. Poetic. bromp 33 bromp 34 bromp 35 bromp 37 bromp 48

Esteban.

Click here for part one to read about the bizarre story of Chief Long Wolf , the Sioux warrior buried in London.

Click here for part one and part two of the Taphophile tour of Colchester, Britain’s oldest recorded town.

Taphophile Tours. Brompton Cemetery – Part One

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The London borough of Kensington and Chelsea is synonymous with wealth and affluence. It’s the go to district for Russian Oligarchs and Arab tycoons. Snapping up multi-million pound pads and frequenting them for five days of the year. It’s only fitting that an area of such extravagant wealth contains a burial ground of considerable elegance. A short walk from Fulham Broadway tube station just past Stamford Bridge stadium are the vast grounds of Brompton Cemetery, West London’s most chic hangout for the dead. image A member of the magnificent seven – the name given to the group of large fashionable London cemeteries established in the 19th century, not a group of superheroes – Brompton is to West London what Highgate is to the north of the city. Opened in 1840 to cater for London’s exploding population of the late Georgian period which left traditional churchyards unable to cope with the increasing number citizens arranging consultations with the grim reaper.bromp 11 bromp 6 The cemetery is an elegant half mile long homage to the dead featuring 35,000 graves containing over 200,000 remains. Following the footpath around the perimeter gives you a pretty good idea of why it’s called a garden cemetery. Long abandoned tombstones give way to weathered tree trunks and expanding bushes. Earthy paths lead to dead ends of anonymous gravesites with eroded blank headstones. The sheer clutter of graves is overwhelming. Wonky tombstones lean against each other like crooked teeth in an overcrowded mouth. bromp 4 bromp 25 bromp 26 bromp 28 bromp 29 bromp 42 bromp 43 bromp 9 Despite being the eternal home of almost a quarter of a million dead you’ll see plenty of life. As you navigate your way over fallen branches and the reaching arms of thorny shrubs the sound of trampling footsteps and heavy panting break the silence. Joggers zip past you doing their best to postpone the day they will join the residents of the very place they are doing laps of. Squirrels dart over headstones as they are chased by one of the many dogs out for afternoon walkies. Owners shout orders at their pooch fearful of being caught by the warden for ignoring the sign indicating that canines must be kept on a lead. You may even get winked at by a coy looking gentleman as, somewhat inexplicably, Brompton has a reputation as a popular gay cruising ground. Apparently looking at memorials to deceased Victorian families gets some guys in the mood for some lovin’. Each to their own. bromp 40 bomp 39 bromp 3 bromp 22 bromp 50 bromp 36 bromp 8 Chief Long Wolf is not the kind of name you’d think to associate with a Victorian cemetery near Earl’s Court but for 105 years the Sioux warrior was buried here. He had died while touring with a Buffalo Bill show in London in 1892. Back in those days burials at sea were popular. This practice involved chucking a corpse overboard like an empty barrel of rum as soon as they’d sailed away from port. Avoiding this watery end the Chief was buried in Brompton and forgotten about until 1997. In what must have been a dazzlingly bizarre sight a as trio present day tribesman, complete with feather head dresses, came to pick up Long Wolf and shipped him back to South Dakota. The story of Long Wolf’s adventures are made even more outlandish by the fact that the chiefs reunion with his homeland was orchestrated by a random housewife from Worcestershire  who had stumbled across his grave after reading about him in an old book. Apparently touring with Buffalo Bill was basically a death sentence, no health and safety law back then, as the Wolfman was joined by the ultra-patriotically named Paul Eagle Star who had also died on tour from a broken ankle sustained while falling off of a horse. Buffalo Bill must have put on one hell of a show. bromp 2 bromp 32 bromp 23 bromp 10 bromp 24 bromp 21 bromp 5

Look out for part two which takes a peek into the spooky catacombs to check out their gruesome contents.

Esteban.

Taphophile Tours. Colchester – Part Two

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The second part of the taphofiles’ guide to tomb hunting in Britain’s oldest recorded town. Having explored the smaller burial sites around the town centre in part one this instalment looks at the larger depositories of death in the former Roman capital of England.

St Martin’s Church

A wonderful example of recycling through the centuries as this medieval church has been restored using Roman era bricks after destruction during – yup you guessed it – the civil war. By the 1950’s people were fed up of telling God how great he is in this building and it fell into serious disrepair. English Heritage restored it just over a decade ago. The identifiable graves range as far back as the 17th century while many other headstone inscriptions have long since found themselves rendered blank

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St. Peter’s Church

Sitting proudly atop North hill St. Peter’s would have had a stunning view of rolling hills and luscious Essex countryside when it was remodelled during the Georgian period. Now you can see a train station and an Asda. Tiptoeing around the hidden back end of the churchyard is a spooky experience. Not because of the threat of a celestial attack but the very real possibility of a junkie leaping out of the bushes and spitting hepatitis at you. Discarded syringes, burnt table spoons and soggy cardboard mattresses let you know that it’s not just the dead who frequent this site. Wear thick soled boots. Don’t touch anything.

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Colchester Cemetery

By the 1850’s all the churchyards around town were full and closed for funerary business. At this time Colchester cemetery opened just outside of town to accommodate for citizens who just won’t give up this nasty habit they all have of eventually dying. The cemetery is a sprawling space with patches of decaying sparseness surrounding the main entrance which merge into sections of tightly packed crowdedness towards the back. You are greeted with long the abandoned crumbled tombs of the early 20th century however as you venture to the rear it is clear that this is very much a working cemetery with an abundance of very recent additions. The glistening new headstones a stark contrast to the dull and worn monuments just a few yards away. Due to the town’s close ties with the army you’ll find lots of military graves dotted around, particularly from the first world war. Despite being scattered around individually they all share the same design giving the impression of a permanent uniform.

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If you didn’t catch part one click here.

Esteban

Taphophile Tours. Colchester – Part One.

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 Formally the Roman capital of Britain this town was once the main settlement in the far northern outpost of one of histories greatest ever empires. Colchester – Camulodunum as it was known back in Ceasar’s day – is England’s oldest recorded town. Today you’re more likely to see it as the location for an episode of Booze Britain. It was the site of an important siege against the royalist army during the English civil war. The only battles you see take place now are between Mark Wright wannabes smashing each other over the head with bottles of Rekorderlig strawberry flavour for the honour of a bleach blonde celebrity big brother fan who couldn’t tell you what the chemical symbol for hydrogen is despite 99% of her head being filled with it. Fortunately the towns’ rich and far reaching history make it an attractive destination for the taphophile tourist. Here’s part one (click here for part two) of a collection of snaps from the the churchyards surrounding the town centre with a little history thrown in. Enjoy.

St Mary At-The-Walls.

An interesting name made all the more intriguing by the fact that the roman wall surrounding Colchester is the very same one Humpty Dumpty supposedly fell off of. Apparently the story was inspired by a one eyed gunman firing at parliamentarians during the civil war from atop the church tower. The roundheads eventually toppled him and his gruesome death amidst a bloody battle inspired the children’s tale about an unruly egg spilling his yolky guts all over the pavement.

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There's an anti drinking advert in this somewhere...

There’s an anti drinking advert in this somewhere…

St Boltoph’s Priory

A monastery built in the Norman era. It was dissolved – metaphorically, not in acid – during the early 16th century when Henry VIII decided to ransack priories and convents because he needed more money for his favourite yet cripplingly expensive hobby of warring with France. After being stripped of it’s assets the building took a further pounding during the civil war. This time a structural pillaging as the same guys who murdered Humpy Dumpty went to town on the building with muskets and cannons. Burials were carried out during the 18th and 19th century leaving the site looking like a set used during one of the battle scenes from the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

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Colchester Natural History Museum (Formerly All Saints Church)

It’s amusingly subversive to see the pews and pulpit of a church replaced with glass cabinets filled with taxidermy foxes and seagulls explaining natural selection. The site used to be called All Saints church and was used by the parishioners from the St Boltophs site that the egg smashers blew to bits during the civil war. By the 1950’s the congregation had dwindled and it was converted into the Darwin inspired museum it is today. The graveyard has been left in the capable hands of mother nature who has turned it into a fitting surrounding for the museum. Reminding visitors that no matter how strong the stone you erect is nature always wins.

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Holy Trinity Church

Phenomenally old church in the town centre with a tower which dates back to Saxon times. Pop inside to pick up a bead necklace and hand painted plant pot as there’s an arts and craft market inside these days. Fans of magnetics will be excited to note the presence of Elizabethan physician William Gilberd but disappointed the see the fence around the churchyard preventing any gravitational pull his grave may have.

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St. Runwalds Street

Part one ends with a lunch recommendation. Just off the high street on a side road next to the town hall is a Pizza Express. There’s nothing special about the Italian chain restaurant itself however touring taphophiles should request a seat by the window. Here you can shove down garlic dough balls while admiring the small early 19th century graveyard which sits behind a large metal fence. Looking somewhat out of place and time boxed in between the back of a large council building and an office car park. Whatever church once stood here has long since vanished but town planners obviously didn’t want to evoke the angry spirits of the late Georgian period so the burial ground has been left untouched and inaccessible. Dine like an invading parliamentarian and order the pizza with a fried egg in the middle.

Click here to check out part two which explores the larger burial sites of Britian’s oldest recorded town.

Esteban.