The editors of a new book based on Te Papa’s NZ Wars Collections identify some favourites.
Matiu Baker: “Pūmuka’s Union Flag, which is emblazoned with the words PUMUKA and TIRITI WAITANGI, is perhaps one of the most poignant taonga in Te Papa’s collections. The flag was given to Pūmuka about 1834 by the newly appointed British Resident, James Busby, as an expression of gratitude for his support. Pūmuka was among a prominent group of influential northern rangatira present at the selection of our first national flag (1834), the signing of the Declaration of Independence (1835), and a vocal supporter and the sixth signatory to the Treaty of Waitangi.
But in the post-Treaty disappointment in the colonial experiment, Pūmuka found himself caught up in the 1845 Northern War with Kawiti and Hōne Heke. He was killed in dramatic fashion, literally cut down during the battle of Kororāreka. He was the mātāika, the “first fish” or rangatira of distinction, to be slain in the first major battle of the New Zealand Wars. Pūmuka’s story always resonated deeply for me. How could so much hope and optimism turn so quickly into disappointment and conflict? Pūmuka’s story represents the hope and all the despair of the treaty”.
Rebecca Rice: “It’s hard to find taonga that tell the stories of the women and children, Māori and Pākehā, whose lives were affected by the wars. Mrs Lloyd and her children goes some way towards doing so. It is part of William Francis Gordon’s collection of photographs relating to the New Zealand Wars, but its place in that collection lies in who is not in the picture – the absent husband and father, Captain TWJ Lloyd of the 57th Regiment.
He and his family arrived in New Zealand in January 1864. By April, Captain Lloyd was dead, killed during an ambush at Te Ahuahu, near Ōakura in Taranaki, and Mrs Lloyd was left a widow. Here, she and her children are pictured in mourning dress, and Mrs Lloyd wears a Victorian widow’s cap.
The British typically understated fatalities and exaggerated victories in battles, but the opposite was true of deaths resulting from ambushes, accounts of which were embellished with salacious, often incorrect information. To maintain the myth that the British were fighting a morally superior battle, murders of Māori by Pākehā were not reported in equivalent detail. For every Mrs Lloyd and her children, there are equally important stories of Māori experiences that remain untold.”
Michael Fitzgerald: Monarchs throughout history have used seals, in the form of wax impressions from an engraved die, to ensure that their laws and official documents are authentic.
Shortly before the invasion of Waikato, King Potatau II commissioned Auckland jeweller James Watt to engrave a steel die for his Royal Seal. The seal’s design, which would have been specified by the King and his advisers, is rich in symbolism indicating peaceful intentions. A Christian cross is at the centre, and within a shield are other symbols of peace – including an outstretched hand holding what may be an olive branch. Above the shield is a waka being paddled along a river, beneath a kōtuku (white heron) and the rising sun.
The significance of the kōtuku is reflected in the whakataukī (saying) “He kōtuku rerenga tahi” (“A white heron of a single flight”), seen perhaps once in a lifetime and symbolising the beautiful and rare. Tragically, the settler government ignored the Kīngitanga’s peaceful symbols, demanding instead allegiance to Queen Victoria.”
Katie Cooper: “The commemorative certificate awarded to members of the Taranaki Mounted Volunteers in 1902 is one of many poignant and challenging objects in the book. It is a large certificate, almost half a metre wide, embellished with images of flags, medals and fighting figures.
It gives a brief history of the mounted corps and the actions in which they were involved, noting, for example, that they accompanied General Chute on a march between Whanganui and New Plymouth in 1866, “destroying all Native pās and villages along the coast” as they went. The certificate recognises the actions of the volunteers and completely ignores the devastating consequences of those actions for iwi.
It really is an example of history being written by the “victors” and says as much about Pākehā dominance in Taranaki in the 1900s as it does about the wars of the 1860s. The mounted unit disbanded in 1866 but the persecution of Māori in Taranaki continued for decades. The men of the mounted corps were given land grants in recognition of their war service, and 40 years later, were able to celebrate their military “successes” from a position of relative prosperity.”
