London’s answer to the Arc de Triomphe, the outside entrance to Buckingham Palace, a source of controversy and scandal – all of those are or have been among the roles of Wellington Arch (also known as Constitution Arch), which stands today at an odd angle opposite Apsley House, amidst a raceway of roads. (Something for London’s mayor Ken Livingstone to sort out soon, you’d have to hope.)

wellington

So is it worth the £3 entry fee (or less with a combined ticket for Apsley House)? I’d say it was. There’s a lovely view from its balcony of the surrounding area – down to the House of Commons and the London Eye, up to the green stretchs of Hyde Park, and a close-up view of the bronze quadriga (four-horse chariot), which was lovingly crafted by a man with a detailed knowledge of equine anatomy.

quadriga

The display inside provides more than a history of the structure itself, but also of this whole area of West London. Images range from an 1814 watercolour of this site – then what might be some sleepy village road, cut by the toll gates of the Kensington Turnpike Trust, to a photo of when the road here ran through its gates (hardly imaginable now) during the 1955 rail strike – grand tail fins all neatly lined up.

The desire to place here a grand structure, befitting the capital of an empire, dates back to the 18th century -Robertt Adam was among those first proposing a design, in 1775 – but nothing was done until 1825, when George IV was remodelling Buckingham Palace. That project, as such royal projects are wont to do, ran horribly over-budget, and the arch was caught up in the scandal. So the design by Decimus Burton that was finally built was considerably less grand and decorated than he’d envisaged – a positive from the point of view of modern taste.

PunchThe arch was originally topped by a 40-ton statue of the Duke of Wellington – highly controversial and much hated by the satirical magazine Punch (that’s one of its cartoons right), which looked hopelessly ill-proportioned.

But soon the whole structure had to be moved, stone by stone, in 1883 to ease road access, destroying its relationship to the Hyde Park Screen. And that gave an excuse for getting rid of the statue.

After decades of no statue at all it was Captain Adrian Jones, a cavalry veterinary surgeon, who was commissioned – with funds from a wealthy banker, Lord Michelham of Hellingby – to sculpt the replacement. After four years of work, the result was hoisted into place in January 1912 – and today it looks just right.

But if you’d like to imagine something really different, here’s a suggestion from Bob Geldof and the Guardian. Or you might like to visit in 2006, when it is scheduled to be the start of a naked bike ride.


Visiting details can be found on the English Heritage website.