You’d think picking a 19th-century door lock should be easy. But in the case of a grave in Brompton Cemetery in Kensington, west of central London, this has seemed to be an unsolvable problem for decades. Not that many people ever bothered to enter the mausoleum. But as is so often the case: as soon as something is no longer accessible, it often becomes suspicious and soon a mystery-shrouded excitement. Since the late 1970s, the key to the tomb has disappeared and rumor has it that the cemetery’s largest mausoleum is nothing short of a time machine.
In the mausoleum is a certain Hannah Courtoy, born about 1784, deceased 1849, buried next to two of her daughters, Elizabeth and Mary-Ann. Judging by the splendor of the building and its reputation, one would now think that Mrs Courtoy would join the illustrious circle of the many celebrities buried in this cemetery, such as the suffragette Emmeline Pankhurst or the auction house heir Samuel Leigh Sotheby. There are also other graves with familiar-sounding names, such as that of Peter Rabbett – yes, with an “e”. The writer Beatrix Potter later made the well-known hare Peter Rabbit out of him in her children’s book.
The cemetery is one of London’s “Magnificent Seven”. They have nothing to do with their American namesakes in the Wild West, who had to shoot their way through against a ruthless miner and his henchmen. The Magnificent Seven of London are all private cemeteries established in the 19th century to relieve overcrowded community cemeteries. Today, the municipal park administration continues to look after them, and quite a few of the graves are listed monuments and may not be altered.
Some believe that the ancient Egyptians could travel through time
A new lock is not allowed to be inserted into the massive metal door of the mausoleum. Where a modern locksmith might have access within seconds, monument protection stands in the way today. That, however, prepared the ground for the immortality of that same Mrs. Courtoy, whose name, admittedly, would otherwise evoke few memories. Apart from the oversized granite tomb with the pyramid-like roof and engraved hieroglyphs, she left nothing to the world.
Born Hannah Peters, according to the few records that exist about her, she fled from her abusive father at an early age and became a maid to John Courtoy in 1800. The then 70-year-old wig maker had made a small fortune in the credit business, but suffered from poor health. Whether the daughter born shortly thereafter was actually by Courtoy, as Hannah claimed, is not proven, nor is the question of whether Hannah was a marriage swindler or not. However, author David Godson in the book “Courtoy’s Complaint” cites the housekeeper of the Courtoy estate. This reports that Hannah repeatedly turned away from the grumpy old man and pursued her own interests. In particular, she was passionate about astrology and ancient Egypt and thus formed a friendship with the sculptor and Egyptologist Joseph Bonomi, the younger.
Originally an architect, Bonomi hired on as a student as an assistant on various research trips and took part in the Royal Prussian Egypt Expedition in 1842, which was led by Karl Richard Lepsius, who was to become the founder of modern Egyptology. The time travel theory probably stems from this mental connection, because the idea that the ancient Egyptians invented a time machine and that it only has to be decoded from the hieroglyphs is circulating in science fiction circles again and again. In theory at least, Bonomi had access to that secret, if you will.
Is the tomb connected to other cemeteries by teleportation?
How close Courtoy and Bonomi were is not known. Bonomi’s grave, however, is only a few meters from Courtoy’s – and on the otherwise plain stone you can see an engraving of the outline of that mausoleum. This connection and Bonomi’s friendship with a charlatan named Samuel Alfred Warner are now fueling conspiracy theories. Warner claimed to be an inventor and wanted to sell the British Army an invisible torpedo and some kind of teleportation weapon for an advance payment. Amazingly, nothing came of the deal, and it is unknown if Warner’s inventions actually worked. Of course, as long as there is no evidence to the contrary, anything is possible, albeit unlikely.
The London musician Stephen Coates, a passionate advocate of the teleportation theory and inventor of a cemetery tour under this motto, now argues exactly according to this logic. In a blog post, he even assumes that Warner developed the mausoleum together with Bonomi. The grave as a time machine would actually be a clever idea, because cemeteries are changed less often than telephone booths, for example – practical for a return journey from the future. Coates is convinced that Courtoy’s mausoleum is teleported to other buildings on the Magnificent Seven. He can’t say exactly which buildings these are either. However, one thing is clear: if a key for the mausoleum were to be found in the future, the cemetery would be one secret poorer.