How Ireland Unceremoniously Dethroned a Queen

How (and why) Ireland unceremoniously dethroned a Queen

BY LLOYD GORMAN

It has been incredible to watch the backlash from African-American George Floyd’s brutal killing and the Black Lives Matter movement gain fresh momentum around the world in ways that similar deaths and movements have not been able to achieve in the past. Images of statues of historically significant figures with links to the slave trade being toppled on the news is a sign of how much momentum and pent up anger exists in those affected communities. Tearing down a piece of public sculpture that is designed and made to last indefinitely requires a collective will and energy and is something that happens at time of significant change. Ireland’s assertion of its own sovereignty is not without its own examples of this phenomenon. In 1922 - after the War of Independence had been fought and before the Irish Civil War began - Ireland became a Free State, a Dominion of the British Commonwealth, still with some links to the Crown but granted a large degree of autonomy and its own parliament. The moment that became a reality, statues started coming down. Across what is now the Republic of Ireland, British army and Royal Irish Constabulary forces withdrew from barracks and stations across the country. No sooner had British soldiers evacuated Renmore Barracks in Galway, a statue of a hated figure was targeted by locals. A local newspaper described the scene. “A crowd numbering several thousands assembled inside the Square [Eyre Square], and two men set to work sawing at the base of the life-size bronze monument of Lord Dunkellin, a brother of the late Lord Clanricarde,” the Galway Advertiser reported on May 27, 1922. “A rope was afterwards procured and fastened around the neck, and with a strong pull, over it went amidst great applause. This monument was erected in 1873, and subscribed for by the Clanricarde tenantry, a good deal of which it was stated, was Main: Queen Vic in Storage in obtained from the people by threats. When Kilmainham Castle Dublin. the monument disappeared in the rere, the pedestal was mounted by Mr. W.J. Larkin, Above: All that is left of Victoria’s statue in Ireland Mr. S.J. Cremin, Secretary of the Transport Workers Union, and Mr. P. Kiely, Secretary Galway Tenants Association. It was a symbol of landlord tyranny, and they intended to pull down every monument of its kind in Ireland, and put a monument of some good Irishman in its place. “[With the rope] round the neck of the statue it was drawn by thousands through the main streets with band playing Irish reels and hornpipes and taken out to the pier head where it was thrown into the water. The scene at the pier head was of the most extraordinary kind. The thousands who followed (and dragged the ‘corpse’) cheering wildly. As the ‘body’ was being hurried into the sea opposite Devil’s Head on the Claddagh side, Mr. Larkin stated that neither Gettysburg, Bodenstown or Greece had sufficient eloquence to panagerize such a ‘corpse’ - “Let it go boys” said Mr. Larkin, “and may the devil and all rotten landlordism go with it”. As the body was hurried into the sea, the band amidst a roar of joyous laughter, played ‘I’m for ever blowing bubbles’. The next morning, the statue had disappeared from the Quay Stream, removed by some enterprising person. It has never been seen since. The base was removed to Castlegar, reworked, and today, ironically, it is a base for a memorial to the Old IRA.” Lord Dunkellin was one Ulick Canning de Burgh, an Anglo-Irish

solider and member of parliament for Galway. The statue was erected in the heart of Galway town in honour of his military and political career in 1873, six years after he died. Thousands thronged the square for its unveiling. The statue was created by the respected Irish artist John Henry Foley, the same man who designed and created the imposing statue of one of Ireland’s greatest freedom leaders - and lawyers - of all time, Daniel O’Connell ‘The Liberator’ in O’Connell Street in Dublin. The statue was built on a foundation of simmering resentment. Tenants on the family’s estate were forced to help pay for the cost of its erection. Added to that, the younger brother of Lord Dunkellin had been responsible for a number of forced evictions of tenants during the Land War. The local community would expressed its long held grudge on that day in late May 1922. Nor was it an isolated incident. About a week earlier, another statue to a prominent local Anglo-Irish figure literally lost its head around the same time. A life size bronze statue of the 3rd Earl of Clancarty was erected in a railed enclosure on Station Street, Ballinasloe, in his honour in 1874, two years after his death. Under the cover of night the statue was decapitated and the head was thrown through the window of a local shop. While these were examples of a localised nationalistic reaction, the fledgling government of the new nation found itself very much face to face with a similar problem, one that would eventually find a solution in Australia. Queen Victoria visited Ireland (not for the first time) in April 1900, during which time it was proposed that a national monument should be commissioned and erected to the British monarch. Nine months later the Royal matriarch died, giving backers of the project renewed motivation for it to be carried out. Dublin artist John Hughes (1865-1941) was given the task of creating a memorial for the Crown figure. Hughes had created other statues - such as a life-size statue of Fenian writer Charles Kickham in Tipperary town - and for this commission he relocated to Paris. His creation was unveiled at a gala ceremony in 1908. More than a thousand British soldiers and a large number of guests and VIPs swelled the manicured enclosed courtyard of Leinster House where it was installed. Leinster House was the home of the Royal Dublin Society, who had bought it from the Duke of Leinster in 1815. Victoria’s successor King Edward VII opted not to unveil the memorial - perhaps its first rejection (of many) - and the job of dedicating it was handed to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The statue attracted some criticism and even Hughes came to realise that the statue was out of scale to its surroundings at Leinster House (he believed it would be placed at the much larger and open Phoenix Park). The ornate style of its pedestal also clashed badly with the Georgian facade of Leinster House and classical look of the neighbouring museum and library buildings. But a negative artistic review would soon enough be the least of the statue’s concerns. There would be further indignities. Leinster House was chosen by the incoming Irish administration of 1922 to be the seat of the Irish legislature - where it remains to this day. Having just fought a war to gain Ireland’s independence from British shackles, the parliament Continued on page 28

(Dail) of Ireland could not decades earlier, crowds allow the embarrassing turned out to watch effigy of the monarch - her removal. A cartoon known in Ireland as the published at the time Famine Queen for her also captured the mood blind indifference to the of change. plight of the Irish at that The queen’s bronze time under her reign - to effigy was first taken remain in place. James to Kilmainham Royal Joyce castigated her as Hospital - which was ‘The old Bitch’ in Ulysses, then police headquarters which also happened to - where she sat in the be published in February open air for decades. 1922, on Joyce’s 40th In early 1980 she was birthday. moved again, this time While there was an to a field at the back of a appetite to get rid of her, disused children’s home the cost of doing so and at Daingean, Co. Offaly the myriad of social, where for three decades economic and political she grew a grimy coat. problems facing the Her fall from Grace was state meant it would Top: The statue in her former glory at Leinster House. Above: Queen Vic and complete. be 25 years before it other statues ‘in storage’ It would have been was actually moved. inconceivable to those Interestingly both Britain and Canada had knocked who celebrated her unveiling at the gala ceremony back any suggestion or invitation to take the metal in 1908 to forsee her demise to this pitiful state. But monarch. equally unlikely were the course of events that would In 1933 Republican - and later Fine Gael - TD Grattan Esmonde placed a large and elaborate bouquet of ultimately restore her to something resembling her former glory. rotten vegetables at her feet by way of protests about The massive - and impressive - Queen Victoria the Irish government’s policies at the time about Building (QVB) in Sydney was built between 1833 and farming. Interestingly Esmonde - who 1898 when the city was in a deep recession, providing campaigned for Sinn Fein in 1918 - had sailed to Australia in 1920 as a representative of the Irish government and had tried to land in Sydney but was denied permission to leave his ship. She was finally removed in 1948 when a STOP LOOKING & START BOOKING! newly elected government - which had a policy of pushing for Ireland to become a full Republic - came into power. A crane hoisted the statue onto the back FLY NOW, PAY LATER! of a flatbed lorry and the spot became a carpark. The Irish Times carried this eye-witness account of her final removal: “As I watched, another workman appeared, clambering over her head, gripping her sometimes by the nose and occasionally sticking a finger into her disdainful British Travel now offer 2 forms of payment plans to suit everyone. You can pay off over 2 to 12 months. Lay by is available to anyone over the age of eye. Perhaps it was just the effect of 18 years, including 457 or similar visa holders the glistening rain on the bright, green res@britishtravel.com.au copper, but it seemed to me that the old lady - never exactly pleasant-looking at 1300 857 434 the best of times - was glaring about with www.britishtravel.com.au loathing and disgust.” Just as she was unveiled to throngs of people just a few Australian Federation of Travel Agents Member: (AFTA) • ATAS - Member ABN 65 08 124 5098

work and employment to thousands of labourers and craftspeople. Over the years it had many uses (concert hall, warehouse, city library, city offices) and was even at risk of demolition in the late 1950’s. The architecturally outstanding structure - then a shopping mall - underwent a massive renovation in the 1980’s and the owners wanted to install a statute of Queen Victoria at the entrance of the revamped centre. Neil Glasser, then director of promotions for the QVB, was given the task of finding her. For three years he scoured the globe following up leads in more than 20 countries, looking everywhere the British Empire had touched. In his quest he did find examples of her sculptures which had also fallen out of favour, but getting permission to remove them proved insurmountable. Just as the search seemed to be mission impossible, Glasser got word of the Victoria stuck in a field in the Irish midlands. Five days later on a May day in 1986 he was standing beside her. “I looked upon the most magnificent, majestic, imposing and regal statue of Queen Victoria I had ever seen,” he later told the Irish Times. In September of that year the statue was shipped

Victoria’s talking dog - it must be Blarney A talking dog provides another, lesser known Irish connection to the relocated royal. Very close to Victoria's statute on Bicentennial Plaza is another smaller monument. It contains a 60 centimetre bronze statuette of a Cairn terrier called Islay, a favourite pet of the Queens. A recorded voice speaks to onlookers urging them to make a donation and make a wish, with the money going towards a charity for deaf and blind children. If you look closely you will see what looks like a stone fastened to the memorial. The stone is in fact a small chunk taken from the battlements of Blarney Castle, and was probably added to the Islay statue in around 1987. A plaque states:

Blarney Castle Stone A stone from the Battlements of Blarney Castle. A gift to the people of Sydney, from Alderman D. Wallace, T.D. Lord Mayor, and the people of Cork, through the courtesy of Sir Richard Colthurst, B.T. - “transported” as the Irish papers took delight in reporting - to Australia. She was unveiled outside the QVB on December 20 1988 and almost exactly three years to the day since the abandoned bronze was plucked out of obscurity, Queen Elizabeth II visited the site in May 1988. Glasser was given an honour in the Royal Victorian Order for his efforts. Then-Taoiseach Garrett Fitzgerald happily authorised the “loan” of Victoria to Sydney as a “reminder of the permanent bond and friendship between our two countries”. But not everyone was in favour of letting go of the royal relic. The head of National Museum of Ireland and then minister for finance John Bruton (and later Taoiseach) argued it was created by an Irish artist and was part of Ireland’s history and should stay in the country.

Iconoclasm is an Irish institution The purposeful application of explosives to ‘English’ statues has been a hobby of the Irish - particularly Dubliners - for some time as Brian Corr explains. One statue that was never going to survive Irish independence was the statue of William of Orange in College Green, close to the centre of Dublin. William defeated James II at the battle of the Boyne in 1690 and this has been celebrated by Unionists for many many years. To nationalists, William of Orange is the ultimate symbol of repression. In 1929, the statue was blown up. The year before Guinness was founded (1758) the first statue in St Stephen’s Green was erected - King George II, in full triumphant Roman posture. Its tall pedestal made it highly visible. Targeted by vandals from the start, by 1818 several attempts had been made to amputate body parts. On 13th May 1937 it was blown up – to coincide with the coronation of George VI. When Prince Albert died in 1861, Queen Victoria asked that St Stephen’s Green be renamed ‘Albert Green’ with a statue of Albert in its centre. This was rejected by the people of Dublin. Victoria wasn’t happy. For over 150 years, the statue of Lord Nelson stood on top of a massive column, and dominated the centre of Dublin; a symbol of British Imperialism. Nelson was a vigorous defender of slavery, and a good friend of slave owners in the West Indies’ sugar plantations. At 2:00 am, 8th March 1966, an IRA bomb completely destroyed the upper section of the monument - their way of commemorating the 50th anniversary of the 1916 Rising. The Irish army had to finish the job and destroyed the base soon after. In an insult to many great Irish heroes, the ‘Spire of Dublin’, a shiny bland 120 metres high stainless-steel monument, now stands where Nelson’s Pillar had been for so long. Wouldn’t it be great if you could climb to the top (as I did as a child on school tours) and find a statue honouring Ireland’s greatest hero, Michael Collins!.

Poetic Justice?

June 16 is well known - amongst literary circles in any case - as Bloomsday, for James Joyce’s Ulysses. But did you know June 13 is Yeats Day? The occasion celebrates the birthday of Ireland’s national poet W B Yeats. Pictured right is community Garda Charlie Jordan at the Yeats statue in Sligo Town (Sligo was his spiritual homeland) where he read one of the poet’s pieces for by-standers and by-passers and anyone who wanted to listen as part of a ‘We’re all in this together’ initiative. There was another incident indirectly involving Garda that did not bode so well for the piece of public art that was installed in the town’s high street in May 1990. In August 2005 gardai flagged down a car which instead of stopping sped up and drove past them. The driver and vehicle didn’t get too far. The car hit the Yeats sculpture while travelling at speed. There was one casualty from the collision, the £20,000 work - commissioned for the 50th anniversary of the writers death - smashed into three large pieces which were later repaired by the Dublin based sculptor Rowan Gillespie and has survived since without suffering another calamity. Gillespie is a profile artist who has multiple works - many of them famine related - around the world. Having unveiled An Gorta Mór Famine memorial in Subiaco - created by Perth based Irish sculptors Charlie and Joan Smith Walsh - at the start of his 2017 tour of Australia and New Zealand Irish president Michael D Higgins just a few days later unveiled another memorial - this time of four female convicts - in Hobart, Tasmania, created by Gillespie. His father was a medical doctor and his mother Moira was the daughter of a fascinating character, James Creed Meredith. Meredith was a scholar (who in 1911 translated the definitive English version Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Judgement). He was also a volunteer solider with the Irish Volunteers and used a yacht to run guns for the rebels but later turned to pacifism after becoming a Quaker. He went on to study law and became a barrister and James Creed Meredith then a judge of the Supreme Court from 1937 until 1942 as well as a Judge of the High Court from 1924 until his death in 1937 and was known to uphold Brehon Law. He also served as president of the Supreme Court of the Irish Republic and Chief Judicial Commissioner of Ireland. Gillespie is very cognisant of his grandfathers legacy. Standing directly opposite the main entrance to Dublin’s historic THE IRISH SCENE | 30

Right: “Proclaimation” by artist Rowan Gillespie

Kilmainham Gaol are 14 haunting bronze and blindfolded statues standing in a circle. The 2007 work called ‘Proclamation’ honours those leaders and men executed by a British army firing squad at the jail for their part in the Easter Rising of 1916. The slender bodies of the blindfolded figures are riddled with bullet holes to remember the way they were killed. Gillespie dedicated the work as a “personal tribute” to Meredith.

Embracing the long arm of the law Police forces in many parts of the world are under pressure from protestors against police brutality and injustice as well as reform campaigners. In another case heavy handed law enforcement was used illegitimately as private security and political muscle for a presidential campaign.