London’s Most Bizarre and Macabre Memorials

I'm Jessica the Museum Guide and today we're covering one of my favourite topics, macabre, unusual and downright strange monuments and memorials in London. These are memorials to people who died in extremely gruesome ways, starting here at the Stratford Martyrs Memorial. If you're a regular viewer you already know that I love strange and macabre places, that's why today we're visiting some of London's most bone-chilling and unusual memorials. But what you might not know is that I studied controversial and contested memorials here in London and also in my home city of Vancouver. Memorials are complicated and often political places and there is more to many of them than meets the eye. Freud argued that memorials can actually help societies to forget horrible things, allowing us to externalize our grief and trouble and then leave them there on the urban landscape to be bypassed and ultimately forgotten. He uses the example of the monument to the Great Fire of London and talks about how strange we would view someone who, 350 years later, stopped and shed tears for those lost in the 1666 blaze. The monuments become, in effect, places to forget rather than places to remember. So today I'm going to bring eight different London memorials, the ones that are flashing on your screen right now, back alive. We're going to visit some that are gruesome, some that are touching, and some that are downright bizarre. Five of them commemorate brutal public executions, including one of a king, while the other three are far kinder, though just as strange. If you're new here, welcome. I hope you enjoy this video and decide to stick around by liking, commenting, and subscribing to my channel. Now let's get started in East London. Just a few steps from Stratford Westfield and the Olympic Park, you'll find a shocking reminder to London's grim past. In front of the Church of St. John the Evangelist, there is a monument to the 13 Stratford martyrs. In 1556, 11 men and two women were burned alive at the stake here or nearby by order of Queen Mary I. Now that's how she got the nickname Bloody Mary. When Mary took the throne after her young brother Edward VI died, the country had achieved some sense of normalcy under its relatively new Protestant rule. But Mary said no way. Her goal was to make England Catholic again, and she was willing to shed some blood. Anyone who dared to follow the Protestant faith was considered guilty of heresy and ran the risk of trial and execution by the state. Of course, after she died, England would become Protestant again, but Mary didn't know that. The 13 Stratford martyrs refused to renounce their Protestant beliefs and accept Catholicism as the one true faith. Many criminals at the time were hanged, drawn, and quartered, and we're going to talk about that at length. But Mary reserved burning at the stake for heretics. And of course, the victims were alive when the pyre was lit. The Stratford martyrs were not all from London's East End. They came from Essex, Hertfordshire, and London. One of the women was even pregnant at the time of her trial at Newgate prison. At their trial, they each agreed to their heresy or refused to deny it, and they were therefore condemned to the death by fire. Believe it or not, executions like this one were usually open to the general public and were considered wholesome entertainment. For Mary, this was ideal. More people would see the end result of their dastardly Protestant ways. Though Stratford was a rural hamlet outside of London at the time, the execution drew a crowd of 20,000 people who wanted to gawk at the gruesome spectacle. The condemned were brought from Newgate prison in carts early in the morning. They were given one final chance to recant their faith, but they all refused. The 11 men were tied to three stakes, and the two women were left standing as the fire was lit and they were consumed by the flames at the same time. Now, we don't know exactly where the martyrs were executed. It could be as far away as Bow, which is about 30 minutes on foot, but they've often been referred to as either the Bow or Stratford martyrs. The memorial was commissioned in the 1870s, where the vicar raised money from the general public and was designed by architect J.T. Newman. We can see here at the top, it says The 13 Stratford martyrs are Henry Adlington, Lawrence Purnham, Henry Wye, William Hallowell, Thomas Bower, George Searles, Edmund Hurst, Leon Cocke, Ralph Jackson, John Dareful, John Ruth, Elizabeth Pepper, and Agnes George. Since we're on the topic of mass executions in 16th century London, let's head to our next memorial. However, this one isn't a memorial to a person exactly. It's a marker, easy to miss, embedded in the pavement of a traffic island near Marble Arch, and it commemorates a tree, kind of. It's the Tyburn tree, which wasn't a tree at all, although these three trees were planted here in its honour. Instead, it was a triangular wooden structure, erected in 1571, where London's most dastardly criminals and religious dissenters were executed. This time, however, the religious victims weren't Protestant. They were on the other side. They were Catholics, under Mary I's father and sister, Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, but we're going to come back to them shortly. The so-called tree was not the first gallows here. However, we have record of hangings taking place at this site as early as the 12th century, and ramping up in the 15th century after they were moved here from Smithfield, where we will visit shortly. The crowds could number in the thousands. They all came to watch the hanged men, and sometimes women danced the Tyburn jig as they dangled to their death, or watched them be hanged, drawn and quartered. More on that execution method when we visit a different memorial. It could be quite a spectacle here at the Tyburn. After all, up to 24 people could hang on the gallows at one time. The condemned would be brought from Newgate Prison, now the site of Old Bailey Courthouse, down the three miles through Hoburn to Oxford Street in a cart. This journey could take up to three hours, as people poured out onto the streets to watch the execution. Often the condemned were permitted a final drink, called a St. Giles bowl, in honour of the churchyard halfway through the journey, where hangings had previously taken place. This is often described as a nutty brown ale in a broad wooden bowl. It has also been referenced as wine or liquor. Some inns along the way picked up on this notoriety, and there have been numerous pubs in the vicinity called The Bowl as a result. Let's back up just a little bit and talk about an important aspect of the Tyburn hangings, those who were killed for their faith. As I mentioned, these were Catholic martyrs, one of whom, St. John Southworth, is encased in glass at Westminster Cathedral, and will feature in part two of my Most Macabre Things in London Churches. 105 outspoken Catholics between 1535 and 1681 were executed here. Now just a short walk away from this plaque, we can find another memorial plaque, this one on the side of the Tyburn convent, home to some very lovely nuns who do occasionally offer tours of the building, including of the scale model they have of the Tyburn tree, and of blood-stained linen hair, and even a fingernail from the Catholic martyrs' executions. Let me know if you'd like a video on that. Particularly in political or religious cases, the condemned would say a few words before their death, often speaking out against political forces. This macabre tradition eventually evolved into Speaker's Corner, as Hyde Park Corner soon became a popular place for others to spout their political views, and it remains so to this day. In 1783, the main public execution site was moved to Newgate Prison, so the trials and executions could be even more streamlined, and so Hyde Park could become more of a pleasure garden for the elite, and the gallows there remained active until 1868. Yes, that's right, you could take the London Underground to watch a public hanging. It opened in 1863. How's that for good pub trivia? Let's take a break from the executions for a moment, shall we? You rarely hear me say that. We'll be back to them, but for now, let's talk about this man here, the great 18th and early 19th century philosopher Jerry Bentham, sitting quite at home in the Student Centre building at University College London, my alma mater. Strange, you might think as you see a stuffed effigy in your university, but you might not think much more of it. However, it's only when you realise that this is actually Jeremy Bentham's skeleton, dressed up in his clothes, well then things get stranger. But if you were a student here a few decades ago, you'd be treated to an even more outlandish and gruesome sight. His grotesquely mummified head used to sit between his feet. So who was Bentham? He's commonly mistaken as the founder of UCL, but he was more of a spiritual founder. His belief in equal opportunity in education, and his ideas around moral philosophy contributed to the foundation of the university in 1826. It was the first institution in England to admit students of any race, class or religion, and the first to welcome women on equal terms with men. Bentham's most famous doctrine was utilitarianism, which argues that quote, the greatest happiness of the greatest number is the only right and proper end of government. He devised the doctrine of representative democracy and was also the founder of modern ideas of surveillance, with his scheme for a panopticon prison. In the decade leading to his death, he began reflecting hard about what he wanted done with his corpse. He left a will with specific instructions pertaining to the quote, disposal and preservation of the several parts of my bodily frame. Bizarrely, he wanted his skeleton to be quote, clad in one of the suits of black occasionally worn by me and seated upright on a chair under a placard reading auto icon. But yes, it gets even weirder. He then suggested that his corpse should preside over regular meetings of his utilitarian followers. And here is my favorite part. For 10 years before he died, he carried a pair of glass eyes in his pocket, the very glass eyes that were to be embedded into his embalmed head, and he delighted in taking them out and showing them off. Sadly, or honestly not, Bentham's plan didn't really come to full fruition. In the process of embalming his face, it was grossly disfigured, and this substitute wax replacement had to be created. But don't worry, because the misshapen head was not discarded. No, Bentham's embalmed head was placed on the floor between his legs, residing there even after a 1975 prank during which students stole the head and demanded a 100 pound ransom for charity. However, by 2002, the head was worse for wear, and it now resides in a climate controlled storeroom in the UCL Institute of Archaeology, which happens to be my old apartment. Let me know if you'd like to see a about the care and storage of the head during its annual inspection and maintenance. Back when I was a student here, the auto icon resided in a dusty old brown box near the student fees office. As of 2020, it was moved to a new display in the UCL Student Center, where you can come visit it today, even if you're not a student here. When I ask my tour guests to gaze up at this clock and tell me if they notice anything unusual about it, they almost never spot the correct answer. However, the geographical location does lend a clue. We're here at Horse Guards Parade, just opposite the Banqueting House, which is all that remains of the legendary Whitehall Palace that burnt to the ground in 1698. It's the only location where a crowned king was beheaded in England. 48 year old Charles I was executed here on 30th January 1649, in an instance of regicide that continues to So what am I referring to on the clock? Well, look up at 2pm, just above the Roman numeral and underneath the number 10 you can see a black mark. You might mistake this for a bit of dirt or moisture, but the black mark commemorates the fact that we beheaded Charles at precisely 2pm. Now let's meander over to the bust of Charles, here above the main entrance to the Banqueting House, designed in 1622 under his father James I by Inigo Jones. You can see his bust here, which always feels like a bit of a dark joke to me, because this is where he left the building for his execution. Look here at this plaque, it says King Charles I walked to his death through a Banqueting House window on the 30th January 1649. The king crossed the scaffold, laid his head upon the block and stretched forth his hands. It was here that the executioner struck Charles' head from his body. But why? What happened to cause a king to lose his head? Well, this is a long and complex story that I could talk about for hours or even days, but in a nutshell, Charles I had been found guilty of treason by a court of parliamentarians after the country was ravaged by a civil war between the parliament and Charles' supporters. Since Charles believed in the divine rule of kings, he believed that parliament should support him in certain unpopular decisions. The conflict made worse after a number of public blunders that made him look weak. He raised an army in 1642 to fight back against the parliamentarians who were grumbling about his rule. This became the bloodiest war ever fought on English soil, claiming 190,000 lives, including the king's. He was captured in 1646, but he refused to seek negotiated peace or submit in any way, including abdication in favor of his young son, Charles. In January 1649, he was moved to St. James's Palace, where he said a sad farewell to his two youngest children and prepared for his death. January 30th was a frigid day, and he asked for a thicker shirt than normal so no one would think he was shivering with fright. Accompanied by guards, a bishop and his attendant, he made his way across the park and arrived at Whitehall to be summoned to the scaffold. He then walked across the floor of the banqueting house beneath the stunning ruben ceilings that he had commissioned from the painter two decades earlier. He tried to address the huge crowd, but his final speech was lost to the cold air, although we believe he said, quote, I have a good cause and a gracious God on my side, and, quote, I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown. The masked executioners got ready to carry out their deed. Charles's luxurious mane of hair was bound in a white nightcap, and he said a short prayer and held out his hand to signal that he was ready. The axe fell quickly, and his head was severed in one clean blow, which was a blessing, as we'll find out later on. The crowd was shocked by what they had just witnessed, their king beheaded for treason. One witness famously commented, there was such a groan by the thousands then present as I never heard before and desire I may never hear again. While these are some of the relics directly and allegedly associated with the king, there are accounts that some spectators ran forward to daub their kerchiefs in the blood and keep it as a grisly keepsake of such a cataclysmic event. Now that would be a bizarre memorial. Now let's just look at the clock again. Originally made by Thwaites in 1756, it was rebuilt by 1816 by Benjamin Louis Vuillamy, King George III's clockmaker, with this strange and subtle nod to the most famous execution in England. Of course, Cromwell's republican rule would only last until his death in 1658, and Charles's son, Charles II, would be reinstated and the monarchy restored in 1660. Just up the street in front of Trafalgar Square, we can see Charles I on horseback, recalling the glory of his famous Van Eyck portrait that hangs in the National Gallery behind it. This was removed during the reign of Oliver Cromwell, but reinstated under Charles II. Also called Postman's Park, the memorial to heroic self-sacrifice sits in the churchyard of St. Botolph without Aldersgate, a church with a strong connection to John Wesley and earlier Methodism. It's a peaceful and tranquil place in the heart of the bustling financial and legal districts, and it's home to a wall of unusual and melancholy plaques unveiled in 1900. On this wall, we can see memorials commemorating the bravery of many ordinary people, policemen, firemen, and a surprising number of children who gave their own lives to save another. This was a personal project of symbolist artist George Frederick Watts. Symbolist art focused on dreams, feelings, and archetypes, rather than trying to represent objective reality, and include Munch, Klimt, and poet Baudelaire amongst its adherents. Watts, along with his artist wife Mary Seaton Watts, oversaw the installation of these Royal Dalton China plaques and chose their ornate typeface. They are lovely to look at until you start reading the circumstances that brought them here. We see a life back in the 19th century before any health and safety regulations. People forget just how dangerous the quote good old days could be. But the tales of sacrifice are lovely and extremely sad, especially when involving children. Let's have a look at a few here. Solomon Galliman, aged 11, died saving his little brother from being run over in Commercial Street, September 1901. Alice Ayres, daughter of a bricklayer's labourer, who by intrepid conduct saved three children from a burning house at the cost of her own young life, April 1885. William Goodrum, aged 60, signalman, lost his life at Kingsland Road Bridge in saving a workman from death under the approaching train from Kew. William Drake lost his life averting a serious accident to a lady in Hyde Park. Ellen Donovan of Great Wild Street. John Clinton, aged 10, who was drowned near London Bridge in trying to save a companion younger than himself in 1894. We see tons of drownings, burning buildings, people run down in the street by carriages and others who died while trying to prevent others from committing suicide. Each tile is just one small snippet in a life tragically struck down too soon. Watts planned for 120 tiles, but he was alive for just four installed prior to his death in 1904 at the age of 87. His wife Mary took over the project and oversaw an additional 35, including this one in memory of her husband. Today we can see a total of 54 plaques in situ, with the last one added in 2009 in memoriam of It really brings this late Victorian memorial into our present day. Today you can use an app, the Everyday Heroes of Postman's Park, to learn more about each tragic tale. It's very common to find memorials and monuments clustered together. This is the case in places like Hyde Park Corner, Trafalgar Square and here on Tower Hill, just above the Tower of London in a small park known as Trinity Square Gardens. But if you know anything about London's dark past, this geographic location has already sent chills down your spine, for this is the site of some of the most legendary executions in London, if not the whole of England. While we have military memorials here, I've come to inspect this one, embedded into the ground and honouring the many men who lost their heads here in one way or another. Easy to miss, but it tells a dark tale that many don't realize happened outside, here, and not in the walls of the tower. See, many associate the tower with torture and execution, which is fair, because famous heads ruled on Tower Green, including Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey and Catherine Howard. But fewer than two dozen people faced the executioner's axe on Tower Green. The fact is that the vast majority of public executions associated with the tower took place outside the walls, here right where I'm standing. An estimated 125 individuals lost their lives on this spot. To be beheaded inside the tower, you had to be royal or pretty darn close to it to get the luxury of that execution, of being beheaded. Some did have a better experience there. Anne Boleyn was executed with one clean stroke by an expert swordsman that Henry VIII had brought from France. I mean, who says romance is dead? On the day of her execution, she said, I heard the executioner was very good, and I have a little neck. By contrast, Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, was not so lucky. An unskilled executioner, quote, hacked her head and shoulders to pieces. Not ideal. So even though being beheaded was supposed to be a quick and painless death, it wasn't always. Sometimes hanging was the better option. Being beheaded inside the tower was for nobility. But what about for others? Too good for the Tyburn or Smithfield, but not good enough for Tower Green. Well, they were sentenced to death here on a scaffold erected when needed in between the 15th century until 1747, when the final public execution took place at Tower Hill. That of Simon Fraser, 11th Lord Lovett, a supporter of the Stuart family's right to the throne. The list of names on this memorial begins in 1381 and includes participants in the Peasants' Revolt, the Wars of the Roses, the English Reformation, and the Jacobite Uprising. You'll also find famous Tudor names here, Edward Seymour, Thomas Cromwell, and Thomas More. For more on them and how they came to die, watch my video about the Tudors in the National Portrait Gallery. We can also see a mention of Charles II's son, James, Duke of Monmouth, he of the Monmouth Rebellion, and many others. The inscription reads that the memorial, quote, commemorates the tragic history, and in many cases the martyrdom, of those who for the sake of their faith, country, or ideals staked their lives and lost. Now here is our final memorial to a public execution. This marks the rough location of the death of the Guardian of Scotland, Sir William Wallace. Now if that name sounds familiar, but you can't quite place it, think Mel Gibson, blue face paint, freedom! Yes, the movie Braveheart is very, very loosely based on the life of this legendary Scottish patriot. This memorial here, and the smaller one around the corner in front of St. Bart's Church, honour the man and commemorate his brutal and disturbing execution after a brutal and disturbing series of battles. See, William Wallace's life began sometime around 1270 in Elderslie in Scotland, at a time when the country was ruled by King Alexander III. But when the king died, his granddaughter Margaret, Maid of Norway, was the clear heir. But she died before she could take the throne, and all kinds of claimants started coming forward. King Edward I of England was invited to arbitrate the decision, and he decided that John Balliol had the strongest claim. But Edward started to treat Scotland like a state of England. Balliol allied with France, and England invaded and enforced him to abdicate. Now we don't know a ton about Wallace at this point, but myth says that he was seven feet tall. This seems apocryphal. He began leading militias against the English, and achieved victory at the title of the Protector of Scotland. Edward, who had the quaint nickname of Edward Longshanks, and the not-so-quaint nickname, Hammer of the Scots, attacked again with a massive army, and after the Battle of Falkirk, Wallace went into hiding. But in 1305, he was betrayed and handed over to the English. On August 23rd, 1305, he was tried at Westminster Hall, forced to just stand there and hear the charges and not defend himself, as he was crowned with a garland of oak to show that he was king of the outlaws. Which is kind of badass, if you ask me. He is said to have shouted, I could not be a traitor to Edward, for I was never his subject. Well, if you're found guilty of high treason, it was considered three crimes. A crime against God, a crime against king, and a crime against country. And so you need three deaths. He was sentenced to Now remember, I've mentioned this execution method a few times, and now I'm going to detail it. First, he was stripped naked and dragged by his ankles from a horse. Now, some people believe that this is where the etymology of the drawn part comes, but it's not. That comes later. Just imagine being dragged through the putrid streets of medieval London, across wooden cobbles, dirt tracks, and open sewage. And remember that everything I'm saying also occurred to many people executed at Tyburn, Hoburn, and all across the country. Believe it or not, the final hanging, drawing, and quartering occurred in 1803, when Edward Marcus Despard and his six accomplices were executed in this method for conspiring to assassinate George III. Back to Wallace. He arrived at Smithfield, so named because it was a smooth field on which to trade horses, and he was already brutally injured and in unimaginable pain, but the torture had not yet even begun. He was then hanged by the neck, and then struggling and gasping for air, he was cut down at the last second, and this occurred numerous times. Now the worst part was about to occur. Still alive, his genitals were cut off, and his intestines removed with a device similar to a dough roller. Each piece was burned on a fire near his head while he watched. This disembowelment, this is the drawn of the hanged, drawn, and quartered. When he finally died, he was quartered and ended up in five pieces. Contrary to popular belief, the practice of tying limbs to four horses and spurring them to run in four different directions was never actually done in England. It was done in France. Instead, bodies were quartered after death. After Wallace was quartered with a blade, his head and his arms and legs, each with their own portion of torso attached. These were dipped in pitch and sent to hang from the tops of tall buildings in Newcastle, Berwick, Stirling, and Perth. His head was parboiled in brine to preserve its appearance, and then dipped in tar. It was placed on a pike and displayed on the top of London Bridge as a warning to other potential traitors. Now when I was guiding here during the Scottish referendum, I remember this entire wall was covered with yes stickers. People came here to voice their support for Scottish independence, and almost every day there are fresh flowers, Wallace family tartan, and Scottish flags here, brought in homage to their most legendary patriot. Today we've heard some harrowing tales, seen some macabre things, and witnessed some truly sad stories. So let's end our tour with a genuinely heartwarming memorial. It's also a memorial in a slightly different sense. Our other locations have been built memorials and monuments, tangible places we can visit, touch, and perhaps even leave tokens and flowers. However, our final stop today is a voice recording, and a touching one at that. It all starts here at Embankment Station on the District and Circle Underground Line. If you catch a train at the northbound station for the Northern Line, pay special attention to the voice telling you to mind the gap between the platform and the train. It sounds much different from the recording used on the rest of the Underground Network, and that's because this one platform uses the Northern Line recordings from the 1960s, voiced by a theatre actor called Oswald Lawrence. Lawrence lived in London with his wife, Dr. Margaret McCollum, until his death in 2007 at the age of 78. She was understandably devastated at the loss of her husband, and she used to journey to the most convenient Northern Line station and sit on the platform to listen to Oswald's voice. Something about hearing his voice, much younger and in this very iconic and public context, helped to soothe her grief. However, in November 2012, she headed to her favourite perch, only to hear that her husband's voice was no longer ringing through the station. Instead, the PA system had been updated and his recordings replaced. She was deeply upset, and inquired with the station staff, who until this moment had been unaware of her frequent trips. They soon found out that the PA system had been digitalised, and it seemed that Oswald's recordings were lost forever. But the Transport for London staff and the team at the Transport Museum took a deep dive into the archives and miraculously found the old tapes, which they had digitised and restored. A decision was made to reinstate Oswald's dulcet tones here at the station, on the northbound platform of the Northern Line. For reference, here's what the Mind the Gap announcement sounds like at all other London stations. And here is the announcement at Embankment. Mind the Gap. Mind the Gap. As you can hear, Oswald Lawrence's voice is still ringing out today in 2024. As far as I know, Dr Margaret McCollum still visits the station to this day. Well, that's the end of our tour for today. I hope you enjoyed this walk through London's grim and grisly past. I'll see you the next time I'm at the museum, or out on the streets of London.