Internet-land is, as we all know, full of lies, half-truths and innocent errors. They spread like wildfire and can cause anything from minor inconvenience to social disorder. As a responsible citizen, I feel obliged to address at least some of these falsehoods and as a pedant – I’ve been told I could pedantize for England – there is only one place to start: An obscure corner of Smithfield. There are many erroneous statements in otherwise excellent blog posts referring to a modest statue of the immodest King Henry VIII on the gatehouse of the Hospital of St. Bartholomew. In this mercifully short post, and with tongue firmly in cheek, I intend to demolish them and suggest some accurate alternatives.
The hospital, known to its friends as Bart’s, was first established in 1123. Its founder was Rahere, reputedly a jester who, following a miraculous recovery from illness on a pilgrimage to Rome, was directed by a vision of St. Bartholomew to create the institution, which he did within the City of London, aka the Square Mile. For good measure, he also built a large priory church as part of the complex.
Henry VIII seized the institution’s assets in 1539 after his break with Rome. Much of the church, including Rahere’s tomb, survived as St. Bartholomew-the-Great, an architectural treasure. The hospital would have been lost but for appeals by the City authorities and citizenry, realising the desperate need for a hospital in the locality. In response, Henry ‘refounded’ it in 1546, granted it to the City and even donated real estate to endow it with an income. It is still with us today.
After St. Bartholomew-the-Great and the hospital chapel known as St. Bartholomew-the-less, the oldest surviving building is the baroque gatehouse, the restoration of which coincided with Bart’s 900th anniversary. Designed in 1702 by Edward Strong junior, moonlighting from his job helping to build St. Paul’s Cathedral, it is still the main entrance to the hospital. Adorning the frontage of this gatehouse is the statue of Henry, near-destroyer and eventual saviour of Bart’s.
The statue is disappointing. Almost certainly by Francis Bird (1667-1731) and life-sized, it may benefit from being larger, overwhelmed as it is by the splendour of the building it adorns. The oddest feature is on Henry’s head: the king wears both a gilded metal crown and a hat. This fashion faux-pas was not featured in the lost Holbein portrait upon which the statue is based.
→ The gatehouse. The reclining figures above Henry represent lameness and disease, and there are crossed crutches below the clock.
You may well be wondering why this minor statue in a City backwater gets mentioned so much on the internet. The reason it is discussed is also the reason I must intervene wearing my pedantic hat. Here are some examples from articles which make, in all other respects, excellent reading. You will notice that the claim made about the statue is subtly different in each:
There are many similar articles making similarly bold claims, but I’ll examine the issues raised by these three examples.
It is ‘public’ as it looks out onto Newgate Street, a public thoroughfare, and adorns the public entrance to the hospital. It is also clearly outdoors. Furthermore, I concede that it is within the area we know as the metropolis of London; although to be precise – which is, after all, the purpose of this blog – it is in the City of London not the County of London, which politically is a separate entity.
But you can see that the articles quoted above, and many others, go further – throwing around the word ‘only’ with gay abandon. This is where I have a problem, because there is another outdoor statue of Henry VIII in London, of similar size, that seems to have been overlooked. Step forward New Palace Yard, a courtyard of the Houses of Parliament. Here, adorning a structure known as the Colonnade, there is a statue of the infamous monarch looking down on MPs, peers, and others. Or rather, trying to look down as his view is somewhat obscured by a street lamp. His commemoration here is logical; he was the last monarch to live at what technically remains a royal residence to this day. The sculptor was Henry Armstead (1828-1905).
This statue is outdoors, it is in London. The burning issue for pedants everywhere, when comparing it to the Bart’s statue, is whether it is truly public. This is a moot point, and one that rather depends on the precise definition of that adjective. For this I will refer to the Oxford English Dictionary; after all, even pedants fight shy of questioning the OED. This suggests ‘public’ means: “Done, perceived or existing in open view.”
The statue is visible from some positions on public roads surrounding the site, although the distance involved means that the details of the figure cannot be made out. Indeed, it is nigh-on impossible for anyone passing by on Parliament Square or Bridge Street to appreciate that it is a figure of a man, let alone King Henry VIII. However, it does exist in open view and although the lamp post is an issue from certain angles, I would claim that on this evidence alone it is a public statue.
← An image of New Palace Yard from the early twentieth century, taken from Parliament Square and showing the position of Henry VIII relative to the north entrance of Westminster Hall on the right.
Unconvinced? Well, although the area immediately around the statue is not open to the public, a much clearer view of Henry can be obtained from the area in front of the north doors of Westminster Hall – a distance of some twenty metres. On days Parliament is sitting, the public pass through here on their way to lobby their MPs, take a free tour of the building booked for them by those same MPs, and view debates in the Commons and Lords. Currently the view is impeded by builder’s hoardings, but these are temporary.
→ A more recent image, taken before the builders arrived from close to the north door of Westminster Hall and showing the odd juxtaposition of Anston limestone and the Portland stone of the later Colonnade.
→ A close-up, again taken from outside Westminster Hall. The grill is associated with the building works. This time Henry is wearing only a hat; the crown weirdly being reserved for the Victorian lamp in front.
Thus, despite the conditional nature of the access, just as the North Gatehouse of Bart’s is the public entrance to the hospital so this area, close to the statue, is the public entrance to the parliamentary estate, and from here the statue can clearly be seen in open view.
Still unconvinced? What if, when the statue was first installed, the public was allowed into New Palace Yard? That would imply the statue was intended for, and was at one point in, a public space, so let’s examine that possibility:
Up until the mid-1860s private buildings occupied the north side of New Palace Yard, and the yard itself was a public space. A works programme agreed in 1864 meant the buildings would be removed and the view across the yard to Westminster Abbey would be left clear. it was also decided to add piers and railings around the west and north sides of the yard to enclose it. Construction of the Colonnade, with its statues, was also agreed. The works, designed by Edward Barry, began in 1865. The need for the railings increased with the violence of July 1866, which followed a peaceful demonstration demanding parliamentary reform. The incomplete and vulnerable yard had to be protected by a mass cordon of police.
Work was largely completed by the end of 1867. Newspaper reports suggest the six statues were installed in 1867 and 1868 with, appropriately, Kings Alfred and William I arriving first. The railings were completed in February 1868, probably just before Henry’s arrival.
Could the public still access the whole of New Palace Yard after the railings were complete? Illustrations of the time certainly show the public wandering around inside; perhaps the railings were to facilitate greater protection only in times of danger, rather than creating a permanently private space. The illustrations also suggest that Hackney carriage (aka taxi) drivers could use the enclosed yard to collect and set down passengers, and Big Ben was open to visitors – Saturdays only – from the 1870s, for which access to the Colonnade was necessary. Indeed, there was direct public access from Westminster station to the coIonnade via a subway from 1869. I must therefore conclude that Henry was, initially at least, in a public area even if access was increasingly restricted over time.
← The northern half of the yard in 1868, on completion of the works. The base of the Clock Tower (Big Ben) is top centre, the statues on the Colonnade are William I and Alfred. The image shows the public and hackney carriages roaming freely.
I think this examination has proved my case: The three example statements, and many others, are inaccurate. May I urge writers of future articles focused on the Bart’s statue to use one of the ticked statements below. Then pedants everywhere will be happy. If you are still unconvinced by my argument that New Palace Yard is currently public, you may prefer to use one of the amber statements to describe Henry at Bart’s, although I would expect to see copious qualifying footnotes if you do.
A public outdoor statue of Henry VIII in London
The only outdoor statue of Henry VIII in the City of London
One of only two public outdoor statues of Henry VIII in London
One of only two outdoor statues of Henry VIII created for a public space in London still standing
Now London’s only public statue of King Henry VIII
The only outside statue of the terrible Tudor
The only outdoor statue of King Henry the Eighth in the whole of London
London’s only public statue of King Henry VIII
And with that sage advice, my pedantry here is done.
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