Like many celebrities, Charles Byrne had a complicated relationship with fame. It brought him money and with it the people who would exploit and eventually abandon him.
In 1782 Charles Byrne was perhaps the best known person in Georgian London. People queued for hours to admire the 21-year-old Irishman. The reason for their fascination? Byrne’s immense size. Known as the Irish Giant, it has been claimed to have been around 8ft tall – although his skeleton measures 7ft 7in.
Now, 240 years after his death, just 12 months later in 1783, the same skeleton is at the center of a controversy that surfaced again last week after the Hunterian Museum, part of the Royal College of Surgeons, decided to remove it from public display.
This London museum, which has been closed for renovations for five years, is set to reopen in March without its most famous exhibit: Byrne’s skeleton in a display case.
Charles Byrne, known as the Irish Giant, is believed to have been around 8ft tall – although his skeleton is 7ft 7in
But to the disappointment of those who think Byrne’s last wish – to be buried at sea – should be respected, his remains are still denied the dignity of a final resting place. Instead, the Royal College of Surgeons will keep the skeleton for future medical research into the condition of pituitary acromegaly and gigantism – the cause of Byrne’s remarkable size.
How exactly did his remains end up in a glass case in London, far from his native Ireland? The tragic story begins in 1761 when a baby was born in rural Drummullan, County Tyrone.
At first the boy seemed normal, but soon he began to grow rapidly. In his early youth he towered over most adults – and was still growing.
Without knowing the medical cause, people speculated that his grandeur must be due to him being conceived on a haystack.
Giants were associated with the supernatural and young Charles was celebrated: when the Irish Volunteers held a parade, the boy would march at their head, the main attraction.
In 1782, Charles Byrne was perhaps the most famous person in Georgian London when people queued for hours to admire the 21-year-old
As his fame spread, Joe Vance, a local showman, recognized the boy’s earning potential and persuaded Byrne’s parents to let him exhibit their son at various county fairs.
It was the age of the “freak show,” where people paid to stare at those who were physically unusual: extraordinarily tall, short, stocky, or hairy.
Byrne was one such attraction and he could draw a crowd all by himself. Vance wanted to make the most of this earning power and persuaded him to travel across the Irish Sea. He never saw his parents or his homeland again.
He first went to Edinburgh, where he appeared to light his pipe from a street lamp, but struggled to maneuver his massive form up and down the narrow stairways of the Old Town while crawling on his hands and knees.
In April 1782 he moved on to London, where he was dubbed the “Irish Giant”. Those who visited Byrne were struck not only by his size, huge hands, feet and voice “like thunder”, but also by his gentle, refined manner.
He was a huge celebrity by any measure: the King and Queen, as well as the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, were dying to meet him. His performances brought him more money than he could have dreamed of. He managed to save £770 – worth around £100,000 today – all of which he kept in his pockets. But one night after drinking in a pub, he found his life savings had been stolen.
Without knowing the medical cause, people speculated that his grandeur must be due to him being conceived on a haystack
Devastated by the loss of his earnings, lonely, homesick and wracked with pain caused by his condition – he was still growing – Byrne turned to drinking.
Visitors began to report that the giant was cranky and unkempt. Author Sylas Neville, who met him in July 1782, described how “he stoops, is not well formed, his flesh is loose, and his looks are far from healthy”. Ticket sales plummeted and Vance left him.
One man who continued to find Byrne fascinating was John Hunter, George III’s surgeon and celebrated scientist, who performed groundbreaking procedures and made groundbreaking medical discoveries. But Hunter’s methods were ruthless: he operated on live animals and hired body thieves to bring him bodies to dissect.
One of his interests was abnormal bone growth, and he was determined to get his hands on Byrne’s corpse. Hunter didn’t expect the Irishman to live long – most “giants” didn’t, and in addition to alcoholism, Byrne suffered from tuberculosis. Hunter paid a man to follow Byrne around like a vulture and wait for his death.
This terrified Byrne, desperate to avoid being dismembered by the anatomist’s knife or exposed after his death – an ignominious fate usually reserved for criminals.
He was a huge celebrity by any measure: the King and Queen, as well as the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, were dying to meet him
He asked that after his death his body be sealed in a lead coffin and buried at sea off Margate in Kent to prevent it from being dug up.
Byrne died on June 1, 1783, aged just 22. A newspaper reported at the time: “A whole tribe of surgeons laid claim to the poor deceased Irishman and surrounded his house like harpoons around a giant whale.
But it was Hunter who was the most determined – and ruthless. He bribed the undertaker – or, in one version, Byrne’s friends – and when they left the coffin outside a pub on the way to Margate, the body was removed and replaced with stones. It was then taken to London where Hunter was waiting.
He removed the flesh, cooked the bones for 24 hours, and four years later Byrne’s skeleton was displayed in Hunter’s private collection. After Hunter’s own death in 1793, his collection was given to the Royal College of Surgeons and Byrne’s skeleton was on public display until 2017.
But it had more than spooky value. In 1909, renowned US surgeon Harvey Cushing examined Byrne’s bones and identified a pituitary tumor in his skull that had caused its abnormal growth. This discovery made it possible to understand and treat pituitary acromegaly and gigantism.
Then in 2011, DNA analysis of Byrne’s teeth enabled Dr. Marta Korbonits, Professor of Endocrinology and Metabolism, identifying a gene mutation that can cause pituitary adenoma, a tumor that can cause the pituitary gland to secrete growth hormone 50 times more than normal, often leading to massive growth spurts.
Byrne was keen to avoid being dismembered by the anatomist’s knife or exposed after his death
She discovered that Byrne had living – albeit distant – relatives, including businessman Brendan Holland. He is now in his 70s and is also from Country Tyrone. As a teenager, he was affected by a pituitary tumor. It was discovered that Holland had a pituitary adenoma which was successfully treated with radiation when he was a young man, stopping his height at 6ft 9in and saving his life.
The museum defended its decision to keep the skeleton, stating, “We cannot predict how genetic and bone analysis technologies will develop that could provide a better understanding of the causes of pituitary acromegaly and gigantism.”
Brendan Holland agrees, recently telling RTE, Ireland’s national TV and radio broadcaster: “There is nothing we can do for the dead, but we can help those who are alive and have this disease.”
But others have campaigned for Byrne to rest in peace, including Len Doyal, professor emeritus of medical ethics at Queen Mary University in London, and Thomas Muinzer, a solicitor at the University of Aberdeen. dr Muinzer says: “It’s such a terribly sad story. It touched a lot of people, many of whom have written to the Hunterian Museum asking them to remove the remains of Charles Byrne from the display, so it’s great that they’ve listened now.
The museum defended its decision to keep the skeleton, stating, “We cannot predict how genetic and bone analysis technologies will develop that could provide a better understanding of the causes of pituitary acromegaly and gigantism.”
“But I really hope they take the final step and allow him to have a proper burial. Activists include politicians, a mayor, a man who also suffered from gigantism, people who are still alive and some who have since died – all united by a strong sympathy for Charles Byrne and a sense that he is now dead dignity should be bestowed.
Author Wendy Moore, whose book The Knife Man details the role of anatomists – like John Hunter – and body thieves in the birth of modern surgery, also believes he should now have the dignified burial he’s been denied for so long, whether in his native Ireland or at sea:
“I understand the difficulties for the museum – research on the skeleton has uncovered new information about his condition that may benefit other sufferers in the future.
“But Byrne clearly did not consent to being dissected and exhibited.
“He was afraid of anatomists and asked his friends to make sure he escaped dissection.
“Today, consent is a cornerstone of medical ethics. Today, if someone refuses to be dissected and exhibited after their death, that wish would be respected.
“There’s no reason to deny Byrne his rights just because he lived in an earlier era.
“After more than 200 years of exhibition, it’s time to respect Byrne’s wishes.”
Exploited both in his short life and after his death, will the tragic Irish giant ever find peace?