AUCKLAND

AUCKLAND Moving with the times – the surprising history of a stately statue

The serene gaze of New Zealand's most prominent 19th century monarch over Auckland's Albert Park belies the melting-pot of cultural activities she has witnessed at her feet. Senior Heritage Assessment Advisor Kerryn Pollock reveals the stories of this landmark focal point for protest and social change.

WORDS: Kerryn Pollock

In Aotearoa New Zealand, four Queen Victorias gaze solemnly over the landscape, projecting a mixed air of gravitas and pomposity. The dominance of one quality over the other depends on whether the viewer is casting a benign or critical eye over the monarch and all that her likeness represents. It is this symbolic value that makes such statues, or more precisely their public reception, a barometer of changing values and evolving interpretations of national histories. The Auckland Queen Victoria statue in Albert Park was the country’s first – it preceded statues of the monarch in Christchurch (1903), Wellington (1905) and Dunedin (1905) – and was paid for by public fundraising following the monarch’s diamond jubilee in 1897. British sculptor Francis John Williamson was commissioned to produce a replica of his bronze statue of the Queen that was made for the Royal College of Physicians in London in 1887. One of the stand-out features of the 1887 statue was the attention to decorative detail evident in the flowing garment lines, patterns and textures. The Queen lent Williamson her crown, robe and jewellery, and studying them at close quarters enabled him to achieve precision and authenticity, which was replicated on the Auckland version. When the statue was unveiled on the Queen’s 80th birthday in 1899, public enthusiasm for royalty was high and the crowd was correspondingly large. The Governor, Lord Ranfurly, spoke of the statue as “a fitting memorial to a revered and beloved ruler, and a lasting testimony to the loyalty and affection of her subjects.” It became a site of public mourning on her death in 1901. The day of her funeral (2 February) was marked by a public procession to Albert Park and the placing of numerous wreaths around the statue’s plinth. For decades through to WW2, wreaths were left at the statue on Empire Day, an annual celebration of the links between countries in the British Empire that occurred on Queen Victoria’s birthday. At the unveiling in 1899, Lord Ranfurly spoke of the “benign influence of our sovereign lady.” While this perception was never universally held, it was pervasive, but in the 20th century shifting public attitudes towards colonisation and militarism complicated perceptions of royalty. The benign ruler label could no longer hold. In 1952, the Queen’s statue and the nearby marble statue of George Grey were attacked with paint and “ravager of the Maoris” [sic] was written on the Grey statue, indicating a political motive behind the vandalism and an association of them both with colonial oppression. On the 78th anniversary of New Zealand women’s suffrage in 1971, the University of Auckland’s women’s liberation group held a mock funeral procession in Albert Park, ending at the statue which, in the words of activist Sue Kedgley, “symbolised the countless Auntie Toms who throughout history tried to sabotage other women’s efforts to achieve equality.” This was a response to Queen Victoria’s famous criticism of women’s suffrage as a “mad, wicked folly.” In 1972, in the first public act of the nascent local gay liberation movement, queer activists led by Ngahuia Te Awekotuku (Te Arawa, Tūhoe), Nigel Baumber and other members of the newlyformed Gay Liberation Front (GLF) held ‘Gay Day’ at the statue on 11 April 1972. During the inaugural Gay Week (29 May–5 June) they returned to the statue and Te Awekotuku read aloud the group’s manifesto, demanding an end to social and legal discrimination and support for sexual self-determination. GLF focused their actions on Queen Street and the Queen Victoria statue because “queen” was a slang word for gay men – the movement showing a cheeky sense of humour. Ngahuia declaimed the manifesto before a placard that read “will Victorian morality ever die?” and signs reading “better blatant than latent”, “camp comes out” and “camps and gays come out to play” were stuck to the statue’s plinth, where decades earlier wreaths were piled. In 2020, Ngahuia returned to Albert Park and again spoke in front of Queen Victoria, before leading a 7,000-strong Auckland Pride Festival march up Queen Street.

Unlike her neighbour George Grey, who lost his head during a Waitangi Day protest in 1987 and was again covered in bright red spray paint in 2020, Queen Victoria does not appear to have been vandalised again since 1952. In recent years, such statues have come under intense scrutiny, as countries throughout the world reckon with complicated pasts weighted with oppression and injustice. Her unlikely place in local queer history does not offer any immunity to politically motivated attacks, but it would be interesting to see how much (if any) weight this association holds should questions be raised about the place of this colonial-era statue in 21st century Aotearoa New Zealand. n