History is not set in bronze
There are three historical statues in Franklin Square.
People talk of “our history” and “rewriting history”, but exactly what do these statues commemorate?
The first erected was of Sir John Franklin.
When Tasmania was trying to cover up its convict past it looked for heroic non-convicts to glorify, and chose John Franklin, governor from 1837 to 1843, and heroic British explorer who died trying to find the North-West Passage around northern Canada.
He was no politician, but he was successful enough as governor, though reaching no great achievements.
The Tasmanian parliament voted to spend £1000 to erect a statue on the site of old Government House, to be known as Franklin Square.
When Franklin’s widow Jane heard, she organised a duplicate of the statue of Franklin to be erected in central London.
In 1865, an admiring crowd watched the statue’s installation. It included the poet Tennyson’s epitaph:
Not here: the white North has thy bones; and thou,
Heroic sailor-soul,
Art passing on thine happier voyage now
Toward no earthly pole.
Some Hobartians objected: the poem referred to Westminster Abbey, and of course the bones were not in Hobart.
Should they write “Not here too! the white North …”?
The wording claimed that Franklin “lost his life trying to find out the North-West Passage”. Someone, probably Jane Franklin herself, objected, and at some stage the wording was changed to its present form, which claims he did find the passage. He didn’t, of course; he died before anyone found it, and the claim that his party did is extremely debatable.
William Crowther was a doctor and parliamentarian, at one stage premier. Even the Australian Dictionary of Biography does not mention any notable achievements, however. He is mainly known today for his behaviour in connection with the death of Tasmanian Aborigine William Lanne.
Scientific bodies wanted skeletons of people of various races to study and, after Lanne’s death, there was competition between the Crowther group, who wanted to send the body, or parts of it, to the Royal College of Surgeons in Britain, and a local group who wanted to keep it in Tasmania. Working secretly, various people stole Lanne’s head, hands and feet, disinterring his body after it had been buried. They knew this was unacceptable to common standards of decency (acting secretly, at night) and, when their actions became known, many of their fellow-citizens were horrified.
Nevertheless, after Crowther’s death in 1885, his friends donated money, and a bronze statue was commissioned from a London sculptor, Signor Racci.
When it was unveiled in 1889, the premier of the day said that “this memorial may remind future generations that even monuments may perish, but deeds, good or bad, never die … They were not there to say ‘Behold the perfect man,’ but they were there to say … that he strove after what he believed to be right.”
This sounds as if the premier had reservations about Crowther. The statue’s inscription read: “Erected by a grateful public and sincere personal friends to perpetuate the memory and long and zealous political and professional services.”
The third statue is of Edward VII, King of Britain, the Peacemaker, who died in 1910, when the British Empire was at the height of its power and popularity among its citizens.
After he died, many places in the Empire decided to erect statues in his honour, Hobart among them — even though Edward had probably never given the city a second thought.
The committee had difficulty raising enough money (so citizens were not overwhelmingly enthusiastic), and then World War I broke out, which halted proceedings. But in 1919, money was raised, the statue was commissioned from England, and in 1922 it was unveiled by the mayor.
He said, vaguely, that Edward VII “had performed excellent work in the history of the British race”.
The statue is evidence of the devotion to Empire of, if not the whole community, at least its leaders.
I have wondered since I was a child what it is doing in the middle of the footpath — an odd place for it, right in people’s way — claiming to honour a peacemaker whose death was followed by a calamitous war in which 2430 Tasmanians lost their lives.
What did these men do for Tasmania? None was born here (though Crowther arrived aged eight) and the statues were all English, with no local artists involved. Edward did little or nothing for the island, Franklin not a great deal more.
Crowther’s political and professional achievements were much the same as several dozen others, and his name is sullied by his actions concerning William Lanne’s body. If this is our history, it would be excellent to have it rewritten. These three statues say very little about Tasmania’s past.
Far more telling is “Two Islands”, the 2018 sculpture by Nigel Helyer which draws together stories of Tasmanian Aboriginal and European cultures in the form of two symbolic vessels: Franklin’s Erebus, in which he lost his life exploring, and a traditional Aboriginal canoe.
Acknowledgment: Alison Alexander is a Hobart historian and award-winning author.
Acknowledgment: Reprinted from the Mercury newspaper. Initially published in the paper on 26.6.20
People talk of “our history” and “rewriting history”, but exactly what do these statues commemorate?
The first erected was of Sir John Franklin.
When Tasmania was trying to cover up its convict past it looked for heroic non-convicts to glorify, and chose John Franklin, governor from 1837 to 1843, and heroic British explorer who died trying to find the North-West Passage around northern Canada.
He was no politician, but he was successful enough as governor, though reaching no great achievements.
The Tasmanian parliament voted to spend £1000 to erect a statue on the site of old Government House, to be known as Franklin Square.
When Franklin’s widow Jane heard, she organised a duplicate of the statue of Franklin to be erected in central London.
In 1865, an admiring crowd watched the statue’s installation. It included the poet Tennyson’s epitaph:
Not here: the white North has thy bones; and thou,
Heroic sailor-soul,
Art passing on thine happier voyage now
Toward no earthly pole.
Some Hobartians objected: the poem referred to Westminster Abbey, and of course the bones were not in Hobart.
Should they write “Not here too! the white North …”?
The wording claimed that Franklin “lost his life trying to find out the North-West Passage”. Someone, probably Jane Franklin herself, objected, and at some stage the wording was changed to its present form, which claims he did find the passage. He didn’t, of course; he died before anyone found it, and the claim that his party did is extremely debatable.
William Crowther was a doctor and parliamentarian, at one stage premier. Even the Australian Dictionary of Biography does not mention any notable achievements, however. He is mainly known today for his behaviour in connection with the death of Tasmanian Aborigine William Lanne.
Scientific bodies wanted skeletons of people of various races to study and, after Lanne’s death, there was competition between the Crowther group, who wanted to send the body, or parts of it, to the Royal College of Surgeons in Britain, and a local group who wanted to keep it in Tasmania. Working secretly, various people stole Lanne’s head, hands and feet, disinterring his body after it had been buried. They knew this was unacceptable to common standards of decency (acting secretly, at night) and, when their actions became known, many of their fellow-citizens were horrified.
Nevertheless, after Crowther’s death in 1885, his friends donated money, and a bronze statue was commissioned from a London sculptor, Signor Racci.
When it was unveiled in 1889, the premier of the day said that “this memorial may remind future generations that even monuments may perish, but deeds, good or bad, never die … They were not there to say ‘Behold the perfect man,’ but they were there to say … that he strove after what he believed to be right.”
This sounds as if the premier had reservations about Crowther. The statue’s inscription read: “Erected by a grateful public and sincere personal friends to perpetuate the memory and long and zealous political and professional services.”
The third statue is of Edward VII, King of Britain, the Peacemaker, who died in 1910, when the British Empire was at the height of its power and popularity among its citizens.
After he died, many places in the Empire decided to erect statues in his honour, Hobart among them — even though Edward had probably never given the city a second thought.
The committee had difficulty raising enough money (so citizens were not overwhelmingly enthusiastic), and then World War I broke out, which halted proceedings. But in 1919, money was raised, the statue was commissioned from England, and in 1922 it was unveiled by the mayor.
He said, vaguely, that Edward VII “had performed excellent work in the history of the British race”.
The statue is evidence of the devotion to Empire of, if not the whole community, at least its leaders.
I have wondered since I was a child what it is doing in the middle of the footpath — an odd place for it, right in people’s way — claiming to honour a peacemaker whose death was followed by a calamitous war in which 2430 Tasmanians lost their lives.
What did these men do for Tasmania? None was born here (though Crowther arrived aged eight) and the statues were all English, with no local artists involved. Edward did little or nothing for the island, Franklin not a great deal more.
Crowther’s political and professional achievements were much the same as several dozen others, and his name is sullied by his actions concerning William Lanne’s body. If this is our history, it would be excellent to have it rewritten. These three statues say very little about Tasmania’s past.
Far more telling is “Two Islands”, the 2018 sculpture by Nigel Helyer which draws together stories of Tasmanian Aboriginal and European cultures in the form of two symbolic vessels: Franklin’s Erebus, in which he lost his life exploring, and a traditional Aboriginal canoe.
Acknowledgment: Alison Alexander is a Hobart historian and award-winning author.
Acknowledgment: Reprinted from the Mercury newspaper. Initially published in the paper on 26.6.20