text:
_Galleries of Maoriland_ introduces us to the many ways in which Pākehā discovered, created, propagated and romanticised the Māori world at the turn of the century – in the paintings of Lindauer and Goldie; among artists, patrons, collectors and audiences; inside the Polynesian Society and the Dominion Museum; and among stolen artefacts and fantastical accounts of the Māori past.

The culture of Maoriland was a Pākehā creation. But _Galleries of Maoriland_ shows that Māori were not merely passive victims: they too had a stake in this process of romanticisation. What, this book asks, were some of the Māori purposes that were served by curio displays, portrait collections, and the wider ethnological culture? Why did the idealisation of an ancient Māori world, which obsessed ethnological inquirers and artists alike, appeal also to Māori? Who precisely were the Māori participants in this culture, and what were their motives?

_Galleries of Maoriland_ looks at Māori prehistory in Pākehā art; the enthusiasm of Pākehā and Māori for portraiture and recreations of ancient life; the trade in Māori curios; and the international exhibition of this colonial culture. By illuminating New Zealand's artistic and ethnographic economy at the turn of the twentieth century, this book provides a new understanding of our art and our culture.

Roger Blackley is an associate professor in art history at Victoria University of Wellington. From 1983 to 1998 he was the curator of historical New Zealand art at Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki. He is the author of a number of books, including the bestselling _Goldie_ (Auckland Art Gallery/David Bateman, 1997).

Steffano Francis Webb, _Doorway at the Tourist Department Court at the Christchurch Exhibition_ , 1906–7, scan from dry-plate glass negative. Alexander Turnbull Library, 1/1-5023-G.

# Galleries of Maoriland

_Artists, Collectors and the Māori World, 1880–1910_

Roger Blackley

_Published as part of the_

Gerrard & Marti Friedlander

Creative Lives Series.

## _Contents_

Preface

Introduction

**CHAPTER ONE**

Curios and Exhibitions

**CHAPTER TWO**

Māori Prehistory

**CHAPTER THREE**

Portrait Galleries

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Performing the Ancient Past

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The Curio Economy

**CHAPTER SIX**

Problems with Portraits

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Pākehā Propaganda

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Cosmopolitan Maoriland

**CHAPTER NINE**

Maoriland in Focus

Conclusion

Notes

Bibliography

Index

' _Haere Mai', 'Welcome_ ', invitation booklet cover, New Zealand International Exhibition, 1906, chromolithograph, 155 × 110 mm, laid on cover, 256 × 178 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, EPH-B-EXHIBITION-1906-02-COVER

## _Preface_

DO WE CHOOSE OUR FIELDS OF RESEARCH, or do they choose us? I retain vivid memories of childhood visits to Wellington some fifty years ago, especially the experience of the Dominion Museum. My favourite area was the vast Maori Hall, where dimly lit glass cabinets held artefacts shown in front of mysterious pictures that depicted people and places of the lost world from which the objects had come – images I now know were hand-coloured lithographs after watercolours by George French Angas. I remember a bronze-coloured bust standing sentinel near the entrance, which a label simply identified as _Wharekauri_ by Nelson Illingworth. Keen-eyed scrutiny of several white patches suggested that the portrait effigy was made of plaster rather than bronze, but now I know that _Wharekauri_ belongs to a group of miraculously preserved ethnographic busts that were specially commissioned by the museum. Also on display near the entrance were two preserved Māori heads, 'artefacts' that were more perplexing than anything else in the entire museum. I still remember the question that furrowed my young brow – could these be _real human heads_?

Two decades on, during my early days as a curator at the Auckland Art Gallery, colleagues encouraged me to display examples of what we had recently learned to call taonga (Māori treasures) within the gallery of Māori portraits. This would mean that the public could see woven garments and polished greenstones 'in the flesh', so to speak. Knowing that the gallery retained ownership of Sir George Grey's Māori collection housed at the Auckland Museum, I duly selected some attractive pieces, negotiated the loans, wrote informative labels including a biographical text on Grey, installed everything in two elegant cases, and thought it all looked rather splendid. Before long, however, I was exposed to the contempt of Māori visitors who had come to the gallery in order to revere the portraits but who encountered the taonga with palpable disdain. Inevitably, one person would read out the label text that linked Grey with the Waikato war, whereupon the entire group would vent their anger over the exhibition of what had instantly been transformed into war booty.

This episode provided a significant initiation into the knowledge that objects can acquire radically different meanings when they cross cultural boundaries. The mind-blowing realisation was that for many Māori visitors the genuine taonga in the room were the ancestral portraits by the immigrant painter Gottfried Lindauer, rather than the 'authentic' Māori treasures that were delighting other visitors, including some Māori but more particularly the tourist 'other' for whom the artefact display was in part intended. Even my curatorial right to display such material was contested by a Māori academic whose greatest annoyance was my description of the mere pounamu as 'clubs', when as thrusting weapons they should have been glossed as 'cleavers'. The experience did not stop me from including relevant Māori objects within subsequent exhibitions of portraits, but it did provoke intense reflection regarding the complex relationships between Māori objects and Māori images, as well as the protocols and responsibilities surrounding their exhibition and reproduction.

The experience of curating the travelling exhibition _Goldie_ (1997–99), the first retrospective of New Zealand's 'old master' of Māori portraiture, exposed me to the reality of a bicultural reception of his work that had hitherto evaded the art-historical radar. Despite the household-level renown he possessed, over the course of the twentieth century Charles F. Goldie's reputation had suffered a catastrophic decline at the hands of Pākehā scholarship. Nevertheless, the widespread notion that his work was ethnography, as opposed to art, and should therefore be relegated to museums rather than art galleries, was not a perspective acknowledged by most Māori. When the Auckland Art Gallery exhibited its vast collection of Māori portraits in conjunction with the final showing of _Te Maori_ in 1987, the room of Goldie paintings was constantly packed with awestruck Māori visitors who invested hours inspecting the works. Indeed, it was witnessing such scenes, day after day, that gave me the confidence to argue for the artist's retrospective. Under the guidance of Haerewa, the gallery's Māori advisory committee, _Goldie_ was developed in collaboration with descendants of his models. The exhibition's tour incorporated tikanga Māori (customary protocol), especially in the opening and closing ceremonies; one aspect was the installation at each venue of an ipu – a simply decorated, unglazed terracotta vessel containing soil. It looked like an ancient object but in fact was a recent work of art by the renowned ceramicist Wi Taepa that Haerewa had selected to contain the mauri (life-force) of the exhibition.

The more I investigated, the more convinced I became that Māori objects shared an affinity with Māori portraits, and vice versa. This is the message currently communicated by the spectacular line-up of Goldie portraits on show within He Taonga Māori, the Māori Court at the Auckland Museum. The paintings, which were donated by Goldie's widow in 1951 when the artist's reputation was at its nadir, offer a magnificent foil to the surrounding taonga. At Te Papa, portraits have regularly appeared within Māori-curated exhibitions including _Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_ , a spectacular 2012 show of historic Māori cloaks that incorporated many portrait photographs, as well as paintings by Lindauer and Goldie that clearly served a wider purpose than mere illustration of the garments worn by the portrait subjects. In the face of Māori respect for painted portraits – including Goldie's melancholy imagery – Pākehā intellectuals encounter difficulty in following the modernist imperative of denouncing such works as tendentious colonial documents intended to memorialise a dying race. An alternative strategy, deployed by Te Papa's curators at the time of its opening in 1998, involved castigation of the 'academic' tribe personified by an artist such as Goldie, and the recasting of this category of artist as a 'dying race'.

Wi Taepa, _Ipu Mauri_ , c. 1997, terracotta, iron oxide, manganese, 180 × 170 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF HAEREWA, MĀORI ADVISORY GROUP, IN MEMORY OF ARNOLD MANAAKI WILSON, 2012

It is fair to say that, in the contemporary Pākehā world, historical portraits command minimal interest unless the subject is notorious or the artist is renowned. By contrast, the Māori world offers constant manifestations of portraiture's duty to assert mana tupuna (ancestral prestige). At the July 2012 sitting of the Waitangi Tribunal at Waiwhetū Marae, large-scale images of important ancestors were carried in by the plaintiffs and placed against the front table occupied by the judges. Whereas European art history traditionally prioritises aesthetic quality over all else, in Māori terms it is the mana of the portrait subject that is paramount and a poor-quality photograph can take precedence over a sumptuous oil painting. By the same token, Māori curators will privilege taonga with known provenance over those that are now anonymous, no matter how spectacular the latter may be. Part of the purpose of this book is to help explain why so many taonga Māori in New Zealand's 'national' collections are devoid of provenance.

Written by a Pākehā art historian, _Galleries of Maoriland_ does not purport to be a work of Māori scholarship. A Māori scholar deploying the same archive would undoubtedly produce a very different work. Nevertheless, my hope is that I succeed in communicating the symbiotic relationship manifested by Māori objects and images of Māori – especially portraits – in the collecting and exhibiting culture of New Zealand at the turn of the twentieth century, a relationship that has been largely severed as these categories have shifted into separate disciplinary and institutional domains. Many Pākehā would prefer that less attention be paid to the rapacious practices that saw so much of the Māori material heritage wrenched out of Māori hands, just as they regret the ongoing exposure of the coercive transfer of land from communal Māori ownership to individualised European control – the industry on which the colonial state was based. Confronting collections and their histories, Pākehā art historians need to acknowledge the grim realities that attended colonial subjugation. Simultaneously, however, they should recognise that there were Māori interests at stake and that a Māori reception of colonial art was always in play.

### **ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS**

This book began life as a doctoral thesis and I owe a significant debt to my supervisors, Geoffrey Batchen and Lydia Wevers, as well as to my long-suffering colleagues in the Art History programme at Victoria University of Wellington. I am extremely grateful to the Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences for allocating the research and study leave that made this project possible and for supporting reproduction costs. Special thanks are due to Chris Szekely, Chief Librarian, and the staff of the Alexander Turnbull Library for hosting me as a Scholar in Residence during 2015. The congenial quiet of the Katherine Mansfield Reading Room significantly enhanced the writing of this text.

Many people have assisted with research that now stretches over several decades. Over that time some have died and I want first to acknowledge them – Judith Binney, David Colqhoun, Rangiiria Hedley, Joan Kerr, Mauriora Kingi, Lynton Lindauer, Jonathan Mane-Wheoki, Dorothy 'Bubbles' Mihinui, Roger Neich, Malcolm Ross, Cliff Whiting, Arnold Manaaki Wilson. He mihi nui ki a rātou.

I gratefully single out the following individuals who have helped me: Mark Adams, John Allen, Maurice and Beverley Allen, Matiu Baker, Mark Baldwin, Tim Barringer, Christina Barton, Hikitia Barton, Andrea Bell, Len Bell, Nigel Borell, Ron Brownson, Errol and Jennifer Clark, Chanel Clarke, Christian Coiffier, Robert Cross, Jeremy Dart, Jane Davidson-Ladd, Sharon Dell, Paul Diamond, Ngarino Ellis, Karen Erueti, Rene Fisher, Keith Giles, John Gow, Michael Graham-Stewart, Lyonel Grant, Nicolas Greis, Julia Gresson, Arapata Hakiwai, Ken Hall, Catherine Hammond, David Hansen, Jenny Harper, Geoffrey Heath, Sarah Hillary, Sue Hirst, Michelle Horwood, Greg Illingworth, Carolina Izzo, Alexa Johnston, Mary Kisler, Gerry Keating, Amanda Lillie, Heather Lindauer, Mere Lodge, Indra Velasco Lopez, Charlotte Macdonald, Caroline McBride, Conal McCarthy, Kerie McCombe, Colin McDiarmid, John McIver, John McPhee, Francis McWhannell, Les Maiden, Hinureina Mangan, Bruce Marshall, David Maskill, Ngahiraka Mason, Rebe Mason, Gina Matchitt, Helen Mitchell, Lissa Mitchell, Rose Mohi, Phillip O'Shea, Pipito Paerata, Timutetai Hoariri Paerata, Pat Parsons, Hera Te Upokoiri Peina, Elizabeth Pishief, Kristelle Plimmer, Matt Plummer, Katherine Prior, Wiremu Puke, Rebecca Rice, Eric Riddler, Vanessa Robinson, Jim Schuster, Piri Sciascia, Libby Sharpe, Peter Shaw, Hana Small, Oliver Stead, John Sullivan, Wi Taepa, Paul Tapsell, Rangi Te Kanawa, Nick Thomas, Richard Thomson, Danielle Tolson, Awhina Twomey, Ani Waaka, Jennifer Wagelie, Tim Walker, Paerau Warbrick, Lucy Whitaker, Anna-Marie White, Nat Williams and Angela Živković. He mihi nui ki a koutou katoa.

Thanks are due to the directors, curators, librarians, archivists and photographers of many museums, art galleries, libraries and archives – too numerous to list – who have furnished valuable data for this project. Heartfelt gratitude to the team from Auckland University Press: to Sam Elworthy, who believed in the book from the very outset; to Mike Wagg for his impeccable editing; to Jane McRae for advice on Māori language matters; to Katrina Duncan for the beautiful design; to Caren Wilton, Louisa Kasza and Susannah Whaley for proofreading; and to Katharina Bauer for her efficient management of the production.

And to Godfrey, who kept the home fires burning, fa'afetai tele lava.

### **NOTE ON TERMINOLOGY**

It is obvious that what I am calling a _Māori image_ – photograph, drawing, oil painting, lithograph – is simultaneously a physical object. Likewise, a _Māori object_ , in this book, usually appears in the form of images made by non-Māori. The words _image_ and _object_ are therefore shorthand for images _of_ Māori, and objects _by_ Māori.

In keeping with New Zealand usage, words in the Māori language are not italicised except when they function as the name of a ship (including ancestral waka). Long vowels are indicated by macrons, except in relation to period terminology and within the titles of books and articles, and quotations from such sources, where the original orthography is maintained.

George Henry Wynyard, _Sir George Grey's Address to the N Zealand Society Septr 26 MDCCCLI_ , c. 1860, ink and wash on cardboard, 336 × 252 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, A-164-003, PRESENTED BY MR A. H. R. GILLESPIE, 1960

## _Introduction_

REFERRING AS MUCH TO A PERIOD as a place, the term 'Maoriland' conjures New Zealand in the decades around the turn of the twentieth century – the so-called 'late colonial' era. During this period, more than in any other, colonial art and museology essentialised 'traditional' Māori culture and used it to help forge a distinctive Pākehā identity. _Galleries of Maoriland_ introduces us to the many ways in which Pākehā discovered, created, propagated and romanticised the Māori world. During this period Māori material culture was avidly collected and exhibited as civic and national treasures, while Pākehā artists and savants turned their attentions to the intellectual colonisation of the Māori past. Galleries of heroic portraits of celebrated chiefs formed the colonial equivalent of national portrait galleries, while episodes from Māori history occupied pride of place in exhibitions staged by artists intent on forging a new 'national' art for the infant colony.

The culture of Maoriland was a Pākehā creation. But this book will argue that Māori were not merely passive victims but had a stake in this process of romanticisation. What, it asks, were some of the _Māori_ purposes that were served by curio displays, portrait collections, and the wider ethnological culture? Why did the idealisation of an ancient Māori world, which obsessed ethnological enquirers and artists alike, appeal also to Māori? Who precisely were the Māori participants in this culture, and what were their motives? And what can a Māori reception of Pākehā art tell us? The inclusion of Māori as participants and agents in colonial art history serves to revise the long-standing emphasis on Māori as ethnographic and artistic _subjects_. By illuminating the artistic and ethnographic economy and critiquing the ways in which its history has been captured and re-presented, a more textured and balanced view of the transactions of the late-colonial art world becomes possible.

Sir George Grey – 'soldier, explorer, colonial governor, premier, scholar' – was the godfather of ethnological collecting in New Zealand. In a speech made to the New Zealand Society in 1851, Grey outlined the urgent task at hand:

We who stand in this country occupy an historical position of extraordinary interest. Before us, lies a future already brilliant with the light of a glorious morn, which we are to usher in to gladden unborn generations. Behind us, lies a night of fearful gloom, unillumined by the light of written records, of picture memorials, of aught which can give a certain idea of the past. A few stray streaks of light, in the form of tradition, of oral poetry, of carved records, are the only guides we have. And, in the gloom of that night, are fast fading out of view, although dim outlines of them are still visible, some of the most fearful spectres which have ever stalked amongst mankind, in the hideous shapes of idolatry, human sacrifices, and cannibalism, – mixed up with which, in uncouth unison, was much of real poetry, and of actual grace of fancy. Future generations will almost doubt that such gloomy forms of thought have haunted their then highly-cultivated and civilized homes; or that a people, debased by such barbarities, could yet have felt and cherished so much of the poetic and good: and if they could then question us, who have seen these now fading superstitions ere they wholly vanished, what eager questions they would propose to us regarding their monstrous shapes, their horrid aspect, the rude and inharmonious voices with which, with horrid shouts and yells, their orgies were fulfilled! – How eagerly the poet, the painter, the sculptor, would seek to recover some traits of their terrible lineaments, – or of their softer outlines, when they related to scenes of the gentler passions, or of domestic life! – that either a stern grandeur, or the romantic glow of a primitive state of existence, might be imparted to some work of art.

Grey's two major collections of taonga were acquired largely as gifts from Māori chiefs and in turn presented to the British Museum and Auckland Art Gallery respectively. Grey also commissioned a number of paintings to memorialise key colonial events, such as the baptism of Te Āti Awa chief Hōniana Te Puni – the first steps towards realising the history painting tradition that he recommended in his 1851 speech. Another commission, a full-figure portrait of his equerry Hāmi Hōne Rōpiha, or John Hobbs, was prominently displayed in the drawing room of Grey's mansion on Kawau Island, where Rōpiha looked down on the gracious surroundings that housed the carved and woven taonga and innumerable books, manuscripts and exotic curios.

Grey outlined the purposes underlying such collecting in a famous passage from the preface to his _Polynesian Mythology_ (1854):

I soon perceived that I could neither successfully govern, nor hope to conciliate, a numerous and turbulent people, with whose language, manners, customs, religion, and modes of thought I was quite unacquainted. . . . Although furnished with some very able interpreters, who gave me assistance of the most friendly nature, I soon found that even with their aid I could still only very imperfectly perform my duties.

Daniel L. Mundy, _Maori Artifacts in Grey's Museum on Kawau Island_ , 1870–71, albumen photograph, 285 × 232 mm. SIR GEORGE GREY SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, AUCKLAND CITY LIBRARIES, PHOTOGRAPH ALBUM NO. 88

Daniel L. Mundy, _Sir George Grey and Annie Thorne George, Mansion House, Kawau Island_ , 1870–71, albumen photograph, 196 × 246 mm. SIR GEORGE GREY SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, AUCKLAND CITY LIBRARIES, PHOTOGRAPH ALBUM NO. 88

Learning the language alone was insufficient, as Grey realised that the chiefs 'frequently quoted, in explanation of their views and intentions, fragments of ancient poems or proverbs, or made allusions which rested on an ancient system of mythology'. Hence his project to collect Māori myths and proverbs from the chiefs and priests: 'The ultimate result . . . was, that I acquired a great amount of information on these subjects, and collected a large mass of materials.' For Grey, ethnological collecting was an important tool of governorship. Whether artefacts, pictures, books or manuscripts – all of which fell into Grey's ambit – the point of an encyclopaedic collection was to empower the owner through the acquisition and production of knowledge.

A later Governor, Sir George Bowen, speaking at the inaugural meeting of the New Zealand Institute in 1868, reiterated Grey's claim and emphatically linked ethnology with political purpose. This time the audience was gathered within the carved meeting house Te Hau-ki-Tūranga, a recently acquired trophy of the Colonial Museum in Wellington that doubtless added weight to Bowen's assertion that 'no problem of Ethnology, – no question of Political Economy (in its best and most practical sense), can be regarded as alien to us Britons, who, throughout our vast Empire, are brought into contact with so many and such diverse nations'. Following the official proceedings, the audience inspected an exhibition on show in the museum that comprised paintings on loan from the artists C. D. Barraud, John Gully, William Fox and J. C. Richmond. The inauguration of the New Zealand Institute thereby provided the occasion for one of Wellington's earliest group exhibitions of contemporary New Zealand art.

It was in the 1880s that Grey's vision of an ethnologically engaged art practice was fully realised in New Zealand's collecting and exhibiting culture, a tradition that flourished through to the first decade of the twentieth century and is a central concern of this book. During the Maoriland period, objects made _by_ Māori, which were increasingly prized as collectibles by individuals as well as institutions, would routinely appear in conjunction with images _of_ Māori. The opening chapter reveals, for example, how the New Zealand Art Students' Association, a short-lived Auckland-based organisation, staged ambitious loan exhibitions of Māori art in 1884 and 1885 that offered prizes both for objects exhibited by Māori and for representations of Māori life and material culture. Exactly a century ahead of the celebrated _Te Maori_ exhibition that toured the United States in the mid-1980s, these exhibitions stressed the status of Māori antiquities as _art_.

Exhibitions staged both abroad and within the colony reveal how a prehistory for the settler state was summoned through the artefactual and pictorial colonisation of the Māori past. Images of living or recently deceased Māori helped to contextualise the mute weapons and cloaks, explaining why there were so many collections that juxtaposed paintings, photographs and graphic works with taonga Māori. Nevertheless, until recently, art history in New Zealand restricted its focus to the corpus of images inhabiting the domain of the art gallery or historical library, while Māori objects (usually resident in the museum), and images of such objects, largely remained the preserve of anthropology, museum studies and Māori studies. Despite the emergence in recent decades of a specifically Māori art history, the interplay of objects and images in colonial exhibitions and discourse has understandably not been a prime focus of such scholarship. My purpose is to return visibility to this field and thereby help to rescue an overlooked dialogue that needs to be factored into colonial art histories.

In the wake of Sir George Grey's pioneering work, 'Māori' historical investigation became a burgeoning intellectual field. Later twentieth-century critical historians of the ethnological project in New Zealand include M. K. Sorrenson and Kerry Howe, who have explored the milieu of amateur gentlemanly scholarship that gave rise to the Polynesian Society in 1892. The _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ joined the _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ as a leading venue for scholarly publication and argument. John White's _Ancient History of the Maori: His Mythology and Traditions_ , a government-sponsored, six-volume collection of Māori historical traditions, appeared between 1887 and 1890 and – together with White's lurid fiction – provided artists with an entrée to the ancient Māori past. While well received in its time, White's synthesising approach has dismayed later researchers interested in identifying his sources and informants.

Edward Tregear, _The Aryan Maori_ , Wellington: Government Printer, 1885, front cover, 220 × 142 mm. J. C. BEAGLEHOLE ROOM, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON LIBRARY; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES

The most renowned New Zealand ethnologist of the early twentieth century was Elsdon Best, whose monographs published by the Dominion Museum exerted considerable international influence. Best was obsessed with extracting 'authentic' ancient knowledge from elderly informants 'whose minds were old a thousand years ago but are a thousand years behind now'. Widely read in contemporary anthropology and philology, Best subscribed to the theory of primitive survivals popularised by the British evolutionary anthropologist E. B. Tylor – the notion that certain societies were trapped in earlier stages of development. Revisionist scholarship, most recently Jeffrey Paparoa Holman's _Best of Both Worlds_ , has interrogated the relationship between Māori literacy and contentious 'discoveries' of Best's, such as the monotheistic cult of Io that was supposedly restricted to the initiated class of tohunga, or Māori priest. Another Polynesianist, Edward Tregear, had earlier promoted a far-fetched but attractive theory that Māori were an Aryan race – literally a 'brown brother' to the British coloniser. Ancient legends, linguistic 'evidence', and fantastical colonial creativity brewed a heady soup with a long-lingering aroma.

Whether in museums or galleries, ethnology or folklore, a romantic nostalgia for an authentic Māori culture that was assumed to be either lost, or about to be lost, permeated the culture of Maoriland. An 1891 editorial in the _Lyttelton Times_ described a 'spirit of lamentation, so touching to the European race which has brought civilisation and death to the first possessors of the soil':

'All the great chiefs have departed. The old men of the tribe, where are they? Gone, all gone, into the never-ending night!' They are words full of that subtle poetical melancholy which is inseparable from all the public utterances of Maori chiefs in these latter days. They convey the impression of a fallen race, sinking into its grave, bewailing its lost greatness with that mixture of pride which prevents strong men from going beyond the limits of manly regret for the inevitable. To the New Zealander who loves his country and hopes for its future greatness, such words always give a thrill of sympathy.

The context in this case was a story about Governor Lord Onslow's infant son, born in New Zealand, on whom Ngāti Raukawa had bestowed the ancestral name Huia at a ceremony in Ōtaki. But the principal focus of the editorial entailed the intellectual consequences of Māori degeneration. Those old men had gone 'into the never-ending night', taking with them the 'precious lore which the Maoris of ancient time preserved so carefully, handing it down from generation to generation'. The knowledge of the indigenous naturalists, geographers, botanists, pharmacologists, philosophers and mystics was now being lost, along with the 'great body of history' that the writer posited as the equivalent of Homer's _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ – 'the legends, the lyrics, the genealogies, and histories of their race, all unwritten and all unvarying':

Many of the great men who possessed them have gone into the eternal night, taking with them this priceless possession. Some few are left. Can not their great possession of knowledge be put into writing, and preserved in our archives? Our historians have for the past, by piecing together fragments of tradition picked up here by accident, there by the records of evidence in the Land Courts, made a more or less successful guess at the whole. But the whole nowhere exists as it came down from generation to generation in the schools of the Tohungas; nowhere, we mean, in written form available to science and literature.

At the turn of the century, Pākehā artists and museologists, ethnographers and writers, struggled to capture a 'traditional' Māori culture that they believed was disappearing all around them.

What role did Māori play in this culture of Maoriland? The situation at the dawn of the twentieth century was a great deal more complex than Pākehā declarations of degeneration and loss might allow. This is evidenced by two individuals who play leading roles throughout this book.

The inaugural issue of the _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ , published in October 1899 and explicitly dedicated to the promotion of 'Colonial Literature and Art', featured a pair of photographic portraits 'illustrating the ancient and modern stage in the history of our native neighbours in New Zealand'. The venerable Pātara Te Tuhi, depicted in a traditional cloak, was 'characteristic of the old school of Maori _rangatira_ ', while Āpirana Turupa Ngata – wearing his graduation gown – represented 'a young native of to-day, highly educated and as thoroughly up-to-date as the most advanced Pakeha'. Founding editor H. A. Talbot-Tubbs explained that the bent old man was occasionally to be seen gazing on the busy scenes of Auckland, 'as if marvelling at the wondrous changes wrought by the _pakeha_ 's hand', while the young lawyer had meanwhile embarked on a noble mission to improve the 'sanitary, social, moral and religious life of the Maoris'. Pātara personified the past, Ngata the future, and the juxtaposition of these two characters emblematised the profound historical shift signalled in so much of the art and literature of the period.

Though aptly expressing the generational transfer that was occurring within the Māori world, the dichotomy in this case may not be quite so clear cut. Until his death in 1910, Pātara Te Tuhi was arguably the most cosmopolitan as well as one of the most celebrated Māori of his time, a veritable personification of Māori modernisation under colonialism. His name Te Tuhi (The Scribe) referred to his prowess as the editor of _Te Hokioi_ , the King Movement newspaper operating out of Ngāruawāhia in 1862–63, in which his mission-schooled literacy was put to effective anti-colonial purpose. With his brother, Hōnana Maioha, Pātara operated the printing press gifted to Waikato Māori by Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of Austria. While in London with King Tāwhiao in 1884, Pātara threw himself into English society – both high and low. Whether viewing Lord Derby's renowned art collection or appreciating the racy late-evening shows at the Alhambra Theatre, he exercised his curiosity over the full gamut of metropolitan life. Like many rangatira of his time, Pātara was himself renowned as an artist. He was a traditional carver who also displayed his work in colonial exhibitions, and his decision to sit as a model for Charles F. Goldie, the rising star of Auckland's art scene, served to enhance the considerable mana he held in his own right. The ways in which contemporary media both confirmed and created celebrity is evident in Goldie's instigation and dissemination of publicity photographs, including the famous 1901 image of Pātara dressed in a traditional cloak, enjoying a tea break in the studio.

_Patara Te Tuhi_ and _Mr. A. T. Ngata, M.A_., 'The Old and the New', _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ , 1 October 1899, pp. 11 and 12. PHOTOGRAPHS COURTESY OF SIR GEORGE GREY SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, AUCKLAND CITY LIBRARIES

By the same token, Ngata was in significant respects a traditionalist, deeply schooled in tribal lore and preoccupied by the problem of how Māori might retain their cultural integrity while simultaneously benefiting from colonial modernity. Just as the elderly Pātara would be singled out in newspaper accounts of important events, so the young Ngata was similarly newsworthy in contexts that evoked the picturesque abyss that apparently yawned between Māori past and colonial present. One such event was the massed haka performed at Rotorua by Ngāti Porou before the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York – the future King George V and Queen Mary – in 1901:

Here was to be seen the unique spectacle of an M.A. and an LL.B. of the New Zealand University, a polished gentleman and a clever young lawyer, bounding about, stripped to the waist, with a flax girdle and loin-cloth, leading his tribe in the war dance of their ancestors.

In addition to winning his joint degree in arts and law, Ngata's student years had seen him grappling as a _Māori_ thinker with one of colonial ethnology's most pressing issues – namely, the problem of accessing the Māori past.

In _The Past and Future of the Maori_ , a prize-winning student essay of 1892, Ngata writes simultaneously as an educated Māori ('Your Maori of to-day is but the savage of yesterday, polished and draped in English finery') and in the semblance of an outside observer ('From the Maori himself we can learn but a little of his past social and moral life'). 'We' is therefore an ambiguous pronoun, as shown by the following evocative passage:

We feel that we have here a large area for speculation and fruitful pastures for the imagination. And yet we seem to be hemmed in by insurmountable obstacles: we are stranded on a strange shore with the waves of civilization rolling in dull monotony behind us, and the towering, unscalable precipice of the Maori past locking us in before and on either side. A dark cloud rests on the edge of the precipice above, and we long for some breath of wind to waft it away that we might catch a glimpse of the confines of that strange land.

Discussing Ngata's essay in relation to 'terminal creeds' – the myth of the dying race as handled by colonised writers – literary scholar Jane Stafford points out that the geographical imagery in this passage correlates with the Māori conception of the past as 'ngā wā o mua' (the times ahead). But she then suggests that Ngata's 'strange land' may refer to 'the future of modern New Zealand', when a simpler and more satisfying reading would see Ngata pondering the immensity of the challenge faced by young Māori intellectuals in confronting their own cultural heritage. According to a leading article in the _Evening Post_ , the fact that an eighteen-year-old _Māori_ student had produced such a 'brilliantly written, scholarly and thoughtful' essay was itself a cause for celebration.

In 1908, three years after Ngata entered Parliament as the Member for Eastern Maori, the eccentric meteorologist Clement L. Wragge predicted the arrival and significant impact of an Antarctic hurricane he called 'Ngata', which duly brought down trees and power lines across the South Island. Wragge was ahead of his time in naming major storm systems, a practice for which weather-forecasting contemporaries expressed contempt. Nevertheless, the choice of 'Ngata' was an inspired gesture, even if it went unappreciated by the namesake himself, for it prefigured the forceful impact of a leading politician who was a lifelong participant within the culture of ethnology.

The complex engagements of Pātara and Ngata with the culture of Maoriland provide an exemplar for this book. _Galleries of Maoriland_ asserts a more inclusive art history for colonial New Zealand: one that registers Māori people and their objects as more than just subjects of, and sources of inspiration for, Pākehā art; one that acknowledges the historical importance of Māori patronage of Pākehā artists as well as the qualified support of the Māori world for an ethnologically informed New Zealand art. Pākehā engagement with Māori art, particularly its reception and interpretation in the collecting and display cultures under examination in this book, is an integral aspect of the history of Māori art. This is the period when many of the earliest photographs of objects were made and, as taonga fell victim to the antiquarian cult of the curio, when crucial information about their origins and provenance was recorded. Another equally important question concerns how a wider Māori reception of Pākehā art is to be factored into New Zealand art histories. This book takes these issues seriously.

The late nineteenth century saw the rise of museums in New Zealand, fuelling intense competition for Māori 'treasures' on the part of leading civic collections. It was also a time of rising nationalism among settler artists who were seeking to establish a distinctively rooted, local art tradition, which led to a surge of Māori portraits and ethnologically oriented art within the country's fledgling art collections. Complicating the picture were Māori carvers who achieved the status of independent artists, producing objects on commission for elite Pākehā clients as well as speculative work for the market at large. The great exhibitions, both those staged in the colony and in distant metropolitan centres, used individual collectors to draw on all these categories, precisely because they represented work that was unmistakeably of this place; they affirmed a bicultural reality at home, while proffering distinctive difference abroad. The turn-of-the-century culture of collection and display not only offers an opportunity to chart the interrelationships of objects and images that over time have been segregated by disciplinary and institutional frameworks, but also to interrogate the received art history of the colonial period in Aotearoa New Zealand.

How might a Pākehā scholar, employing archival methods to tap sources that were generated in the main by the colonising culture, identify Māori ambitions and voices operating within the culture of Maoriland? Of importance are the questions to be asked. Perhaps the foremost of these questions concerns the degree and calibre of interaction on the part of Māori participants within the ethnological art culture, interactions that are richly attested in documents concerning artists and collectors. As will be seen, portrait painters established close relationships with living subjects who, in the case of Gottfried Lindauer's extraordinary practice, often commissioned the actual portraits. They thereby exerted an influence over the body of works formed by Pākehā collectors such as Henry Partridge and Walter Buller, and additionally served as audiences and critics when these works were exhibited. Some surprising interactions emerge. Who knew, for example, that Louis J. Steele, the so-called 'Meissonier of Maoriland', famed for his evocations of the ancient Māori world, also received a significant commission from the _contemporary_ Māori world?

A social art history of Maoriland necessarily draws from – as well as contributes to – the literature around colonial history and culture in New Zealand. In a 2012 essay, Tony Ballantyne surveys the evolution of New Zealand historians' engagement with colonialism. He traces the move from imperial to national history, in which 'the "colonial" figured as a kind of national prehistory . . . the slightly awkward and embarrassing prelude that set the stage for the real story, the emergence of distinctive national political and literary traditions and the consolidation of an independent national identity'. Beginning in the 1970s and spurred by radical Māori commentators such as Donna Awatere and Ranginui Walker, revisionist historiography has increasingly demonstrated an awareness of how the violence and dispossession enacted by colonisation has been productive of present-day inequalities. Ballantyne discusses an emerging culturalist assimilation of colonialism, locating the work of the historian Peter Gibbons as central to a new kind of interpretive tradition that 'strove to understand the colonisation of New Zealand as a cultural project', albeit one that had no end-date, no liberating moment when the nation breaks free and transcends its colonial past. Focusing largely on the colonising role played by written and printed text, Gibbons identified a 'Literature of Invasion' (1840–90) followed by a 'Literature of Occupation' (1890–1930):

Maori themselves and their cultures were textualised by Pakeha, so the colonists could 'know' the people they were displacing. It is not too much to say that the colonists produced (or invented) 'the Maori', making them picturesque, quaint, largely ahistorical and, through printed materials, manageable.

Ballantyne is nevertheless critical of the hegemonic nature of Gibbons' textual colonisation as the exclusive product of the colonisers, noting how 'Maori "collaboration" in the making of these texts and their "appropriation" of them were essentially beyond the purview of "cultural colonisation"'.

Leonard Bell's _Colonial Constructs: European Images of Maori 1840–1914_ (1992) offers an art-historical equivalent of this tendency. Bell's fourth and fifth chapters represent the first critical study of the ethnological 'turn' in late-colonial art, in which he provides persuasive readings of individual works of art and their contexts. Nevertheless, he presents a world where Māori are largely passive subjects within settler art and where 'European representations of Maori often tell us more about the artists' own culture, society and sustaining ideologies than about their ostensible subject'. Only in a brief conclusion does Bell address the Māori reception of such representations, including the ongoing Māori interaction with the Partridge Collection of portraits by Gottfried Lindauer, arguing that 'Maori have appropriated European representations _for their own purposes_ or have reappropriated images that were "taken" from them, that "belong" to them' (emphasis added). By focusing on an almost absolute European hegemony, Bell fails to recognise the varied ways in which Māori agency impacted on Partridge's collection, or that the opening of his gallery in 1901 was at least partly in order to facilitate Māori visitation.

In _Māori Art: History, Architecture, Landscape and Theory_ (2015) Rangihiroa Panoho largely follows Bell's reading of the cultural colonisation effected by the ethnological culture at the turn of the century. He portrays Charles F. Goldie, for example, as the clichéd painter of the 'dying Māori', thereby overlooking recent revisionist scholarship around Goldie – including the guardedly appreciative commentaries of another Māori art historian, Ngahuia Te Awekotuku. By exposing a dynamic bicultural network in which cosmopolitan Māori collaborated with the Pākehā artist and his close associates, including the likes of Alfred Hill and Edward Tregear, _Galleries of Maoriland_ argues that the conventional reading of Goldie's work masks the complexity of its relationships to the intellectual climate of this period.

Conal McCarthy's _Exhibiting Māori: A History of Colonial Cultures of Display_ (2007) examines the fate of Māori objects within colonial contexts of collection and display. Charting a shifting conceptual status for Māori objects – from 'curio' to 'specimen' to 'taonga' – McCarthy explores the history of Māori agency within the state museum that opened as the Colonial Museum in 1865 and is now known as Te Papa. In relation to Augustus Hamilton's proposals for a National Maori Museum, he presents evidence of the widespread Māori support for such a project but intriguingly argues that the institution of the museum itself may have modulated Māori notions of heritage: 'Rather than assuming that _taonga tuku iho_ (treasures handed down from ancestors) was a "traditional" pre-European concept, it may in fact have been a response to colonization.' While citing Hamilton's patronage of artists, and his attempt to poach the Partridge Collection from Auckland, McCarthy nevertheless pays scant attention to the Māori reception of Māori images created by Pākehā artists. Nor does he address the 'repossession' of colonial portraiture on the part of contemporary Māori curators.

Narrating the 'biographies' of objects has become a favoured mode within museum publications that explore the trajectories taken by an artefact (or class of artefacts) in its route towards the museum. Anthropologist Amiria Henare explores the 'epistemological potency of artefacts' in _Museums, Anthropology and Imperial Exchange_ (2005) where she argues for a return to the 'ethnography' of the material object:

Objects are bought and sold, stolen, gifted and traded by way of social relations, which at once are constituted by the very movement of things, such that the two are in many ways 'one and the same'. As they move among people, things themselves develop life histories that cut across generational time and interweave with human genealogies. They may be treasured and passed on with ceremony, or used and thrown away. If they are exchanged, they may move through different regimes of significance and value, from commodity to gift to heirloom, for example, their meanings and value changing as they pass through different hands.

Henare's book explores anthropology's 'artefactual turn' as well as usefully summarising several relevant debates, including the fraught New Zealand reception of Allan Hanson's 1989 essay, 'The Making of the Maori: Culture Invention and its Logic'. An American anthropologist, Hanson was writing in the shadow of Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger's influential edited volume from 1983, _The Invention of Tradition_. According to Henare, Hanson 'argued that significant aspects of Maori cultural "tradition" were in fact scholarly fabrications "invented" by nineteenth-century comparative mythologists and philologists (including Percy Smith and Elsdon Best), and reinforced by twentieth-century anthropologists such as Sidney Moko Mead and Anne Salmond'. While intended as a 'postmodern' anthropological critique, in New Zealand the essay was seen as an attack on Māori attempts to gain redress for colonial injustices. Through its recovery of the interplay of Māori objects and images in the turn-of-the-century cultures of collecting and display, _Galleries of Maoriland_ argues for an equivalent 'artefactual turn' in New Zealand's art history.

The intensive research into taonga by Māori anthropologist Paul Tapsell focuses on their historical trajectories, which (echoing a Māori elder) he likens both to celestial comets and to the complex flight paths of the tūī. His 2006 exhibition catalogue, _Ko Tawa: Maori Treasures of New Zealand_ , profiles an extraordinary collection of taonga that was largely gifted to Captain Gilbert Mair and entered the Auckland Museum in 1891. Tapsell's prime interest lies in restoring the history of each individual taonga, which he achieves by connecting the painstaking provenances preserved by Mair back to their original communities and landscapes. Though keenly interested in Mair's collecting strategies, Tapsell disregards the prominent role played by Mair's objects within the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition of 1889–90, along with Dr T. M. Hocken's associated commentaries, and plays down the expression of civic pride that surrounded the collection's acquisition by Auckland Museum in 1902. For the purposes of this book, it is precisely the narratives constructed around the objects as they performed such public roles – narratives that belong more to Pākehā fantasy than to indigenous reality – that are most revealing of ethnology's complicity with colonialism.

Jane Stafford and Mark Williams' _Maoriland: New Zealand Literature 1872–1914_ (2006) surveys the late-colonial literature that from the 1930s – in a striking parallel with the art of the period – was anathematised by nationalist successors and left to languish as an embarrassing 'black hole'. Stafford and Williams argue the importance of this period – now several generations removed – for an understanding of ourselves and our histories (that is, we the Pākehā of New Zealand), and they make a special case for the importance of _embarrassment_ , 'because that which embarrasses us usually tells us something important about ourselves we do not wish to own'. 'Maoriland' – a moniker coined and popularised by the Sydney-based _Bulletin_ – is effectively a code-word for the cultural colonisation of Aotearoa. At the same time as they annexed the actual Māori land, European settlers appropriated the distinctive history and culture of Māori, both for a ready-made ancient history of the islands and as a unique decorative signifier for an inchoate settler identity. Stafford and Williams' rarefied literary corpus excludes most 'ethnological' writing – John White's essays and novels, for example – and the only Māori writing represented is a student work by Āpirana Ngata. As in the case of the visual art of the period, the varied roles performed by Māori in the literary world – as informants, collaborators, patrons and commentators – call for further investigation.

The question of a scholar's 'location' importantly impacts on the nature of scholarly work. In what are frequently termed 'former' settler colonies, it is appealing for descendants of European colonisers to regard _their_ struggles for independence from the motherland as a process of decolonisation, just as 'postcolonial' scholars located in Europe or the United States often fantasise a transcendental position above or beyond the colonialism that they analyse. One scholar who overtly disputes the fictive neutrality assumed by many 'post-colonialists' is Australian-born anthropologist and historian Nicholas Thomas, for whom 'any text on colonialism will be deeply shaped by the positions from which we speak, and by the particular kinds of texts and histories we feel compelled to address'. Thomas identifies the distinctive feature of settler colonialism as 'the sustained and direct character of engagement between indigenous and European cultures':

Colonialism thus consisted of more than relations between Europe and distant regions, just as the art of colonialism consisted of much more than the responses of European intellectuals to objects from places they generally had little knowledge of and never visited. Colonial relationships were also made through direct contacts and local interactions.

A cross-cultural examination of the interrelations of indigenous and colonial art, in which objects are considered alongside images, Thomas's _Possessions: Indigenous Art/Colonial Culture_ (1999) is an outstanding trans-Tasman contribution to the art-historical field that is investigated in this book. In a realm that Thomas terms anthropological art history, where contemporary personal anecdote rubs against historical analysis, 'objects and contexts not only define each other, but may change and disrupt each other'.

Aesthetic crossovers between the cultures were a marked concern of the work of Roger Neich, a Pākehā scholar who addressed Māori art as a dynamic tradition. His book _Painted Histories: Early Maori Figurative Painting_ (1993) explored the extraordinary evolution of the painted meeting house, while _Carved Histories: Rotorua Ngati Tarawhai Woodcarving_ (2001) includes discussion of the polychromatic decoration of carvings that was suppressed in favour of the monochromatic red paint – supposedly emulating kōkōwai, or red ochre – that was demanded by Augustus Hamilton and generally applied throughout the Māori world. Neich revealed the importance of Pākehā patronage to a carver's livelihood in the unsettled period around the turn of the twentieth century, and how certain carvers achieved a degree of recognition as modern artists. One of the most important of these figures was Jacob Heberley – a prolific carver of mixed Pākehā and Te Āti Awa descent – whose work Neich documented in an important essay. One of Heberley's specialities was the production of elaborate carved models for use as elite gifts, including a model pātaka (storehouse) presented to the Duchess of Cornwall and York in 1901, and another model pātaka on greenstone pillars that was taken to England by Premier Seddon and presented to King Edward VII on the occasion of his coronation in the following year. At the same time, Heberley enjoyed the patronage of the Māori world.

Throughout this scholarship, the heritage of colonialism emerges as a complex and continuously active terrain. The triumph of the settler colony – based on the dispossession of the original inhabitants – is one that necessitates constant renegotiation. While instigated as colonising gestures, collections of art and artefacts inevitably possessed lives that intersected with the indigenous world, that were indeed emulated by that world. Hence the importance of Thomas's anthropological art history, an approach that seeks to explore the intricacies of colonial relationships on their own terms and to embrace the novel and hybrid cultural forms that result. Neich's exploration of Māori art as a dynamic tradition also exemplifies such an anthropological art history: one that is highly attuned to questions of style, but also of patronage and reception. A social art history of the late-colonial period – especially one that seeks to register Māori agency within this culture – must similarly remain attuned to the nuances of colonial encounter and exchange.

Building on this previous work by scholars of art, literature and culture, _Galleries of Maoriland_ aims to take us deep inside the cultures of Maoriland, as created by both Māori and Pākehā. Instead of being organised by chronology or according to the genre of work under review, the book's chapters instead work more like a gallery. Each chapter provides a distinctive frame for looking inside the complex ideologies and practices of Maoriland. The book as a whole seeks to provide the reader with a gallery into which they might wander and appreciate the rich diversity of art and culture in turn-of-the-century New Zealand.

Chapter One, 'Curios and Exhibitions', opens by exploring how Māori artefacts were increasingly redefined as decorative and ethnographic objects and deployed in exhibitions for aesthetic and nationalist purposes. Auckland's 1884 and 1885 exhibitions identify a nexus of mainly North Island collectors holding treasures that the New Zealand Art Students' Association presented as Māori 'art', a heritage explicitly intended for co-option by Pākehā artists whose works were exhibited in the same spaces. In London in 1886, where Walter Buller's vast ethnological collection dominated the Maori Court at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, Māori objects and images offered an exotic prehistory to the colonial modernity featured in the adjacent section. Key items, such as Buller's spectacular pātaka Te Takinga, returned to the colony in time for the 1889 New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, at which Augustus Hamilton and Thomas Hocken curated an evolutionary trajectory similar to that mounted in London – Stone Age to Colonial Age. The dominant display mode within these exhibitions was the trophy, referenced in the symmetrical compositions by John Morris, Josiah Martin and many other photographers of the period. Martin's _'The Old Order Changeth'_ from 1885, one of the most widely circulated photographs of the period, makes explicit the politically charged nature of such imagery of colonial triumph.

Josiah Martin, _'The Old Order Changeth'_ , c. 1885, albumen photograph, 160 × 200 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH BY ROBERT CROSS, IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

From a European perspective, the entire Māori past belonged to the realm of 'prehistory' and its recovery was considered the dominant challenge of colonial archaeology and ethnology. Chapter Two, 'Māori Prehistory', provides case studies of a colonial archaeologist (Julius von Haast) and a connoisseurial collector (Dr A. K. Newman) to reveal how this malleable commodity called 'prehistory' could be shaped to fit individual obsessions. Artists assisted this work by pictorially appropriating Māori antiquity, whether through documenting ancient art 'discoveries', such as the South Island rock paintings that enthralled Haast, or imaginatively visualising 'old-time' scenes, as in Thomas Selby Cousins' depiction of a family group of prehistoric rock painters.

One of the dominant ethnological preoccupations of the period concerned Māori origins, addressed by a range of Pākehā savants, including S. Percy Smith in his book _Hawaiki: The Whence of the Maori_ (1898). This in turn prompted artistic reconstructions of Smith's postulated Great Fleet that brought early 'Māori' migrants to 'New Zealand'. As Leonard Bell has persuasively argued, the 'history' in paintings such as C. F. Goldie and L. J. Steele's _The Arrival of the Maoris in New Zealand_ (1898) inevitably encodes contemporary European preoccupations and desires. Steele's _Spoils to the Victor_ (1908), the image of a bound, semi-naked woman pictured next to captured weapons, bathes ancient barbarity with the erotic glow of nineteenth-century orientalism. The woman can readily be identified as captive Aotearoa, enslaved to an unseen but all-victorious European coloniser. In summoning a remote Māori past on behalf of a Pākehā posterity, such narrative history paintings are inevitably shaped by the ideologies of their own time.

While Haast and Newman remained almost completely detached from the contemporary Māori world, which they regarded as decadent and moribund, the case of an artist such as Steele offers a significant point of difference. Portrait painting, which required face-to-face negotiations, lengthy sittings and remuneration paid to portrait subjects, necessarily connected Steele directly to Māori individuals. Publicity around his proposal for a gigantic rendition of the _Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi_ , which gained support from Māori leaders, additionally provided Steele with a credible profile in the Māori world. I argue that it was the _Waitangi_ connection that led to a surprising commission that was unveiled at the tangi for King Tāwhiao in September 1894.

Chapter Three, 'Portrait Galleries', explores the interrelated fields of ethnological idealisation and Māori agency, particularly in terms of the production, collection and display of Māori portraits. A leading figure in this world was Augustus Hamilton, a curio collector who reinvented himself as a leading ethnologist and received the valuable support of Ngata and his fellow Māori politicians, and whose quest was to embed Māori language and culture into the university as well as the ethnological museum. Hamilton, who assumed the directorship of the Colonial Museum in 1903, had collaborated with James Carroll on the Maori Antiquities Act 1901 and the related proposal for a National Maori Museum. That these initiatives received wide support from the Māori world is shown by Ngāti Kahungunu leader Tamahau Mahupuku's offer of the carved house Tākitimu for Hamilton's proposed ethnological museum, a gift which explicitly included 'the likenesses of the old chiefs which are contained within the said carved house . . . whose names are to be found in the deeds ceding lands to the Queen in former times'. That Māori regarded portraits as integral to their most important buildings was grist to Hamilton's proposals to obtain a representative portrait collection for his planned museum. After first attempting to acquire Henry Partridge's Lindauer collection from Auckland, and then unsuccessfully trying to secure several important portraits by Goldie, Hamilton eventually achieved a £500 government commission for the Anglo-Australian sculptor Nelson Illingworth to create a series of Māori portrait busts. The evolution of these sculptures throughout 1908 reveals a fascinating entanglement of various forms of idealisation, whereby phrenological and ethnological 'types' become grafted onto the antique prototype of the classical bust.

When Partridge's Lindauer Art Gallery opened on Auckland's Queen Street in 1901, it featured an array of 40 portraits that dated back to 1874. These were commissions made by a Pākehā collector who dedicated himself to the creation of a portrait gallery of Māori celebrities. The extensive Māori visitation recorded in visitors' books maintained at the gallery reveals an enthusiastic Māori reception, not only of individual portraits but also of the collection as an entirety, despite its diversity of subjects differing so radically from the close genealogical connections characteristic of portrait collections in the Māori world. James Cowan, a young _Auckland Star_ journalist who published biographies of Lindauer's portrait subjects, was commissioned by Partridge to create a catalogue of the collection. When this was extended to cover all 62 portraits in the final collection and published as the opulent, fully illustrated _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ (1930), it became the first monograph published on the work of a New Zealand artist.

Over the very same period that the Lindauer Art Gallery served as a Mecca for Māori, tourists and locals alike, another Māori portrait collection was slowly accumulating within an exotically furnished studio in nearby Shortland Street. Charles F. Goldie worked with a select group of mainly elderly models, producing paintings that went beyond straightforward portraiture and cannily deploying the illustrated press to publicise his work. The striking image of Pātara Te Tuhi enjoying a tea break in the studio signalled the special relationship that would develop between Goldie and his models. What precisely was it that motivated Pātara, not only to collaborate with Goldie on a series of portraits, but also to introduce other models into his studio? I will argue that, beyond payments for sitting as a model and the pleasurable camaraderie of the studio, Pātara is likely to have realised that his depictions, and those of other rangatira working with Goldie, would be preserved for posterity.

Chapter Four, 'Performing the Ancient Past', explores Māori enthusiasm for the idealisation and performance of their traditional culture. Te Matatini (The Many Faces), the present-day biennial festival of kapa haka in which competing teams follow a strict programme of 'traditional' genres, demonstrates the enduring popularity of customary Māori performance. In the early twentieth century, however, the haka faced calls for its suppression on the strength of 'indecency' – the focus of a puritanical programme launched indiscriminately against Māori corporeal frankness and European nude imagery alike. Māori and Pākehā critics mounted a vigorous counter-response, for the performance of the haka represented an assertion of Māoritanga, of a pride in Māori heritage that was essentially unrelated to European notions of 'decency'. As this chapter further reveals, a prurient gaze also descended on the explicit depiction of human genitalia on traditional carvings created for the model pā within which Māori performed their culture.

Āraiteuru – the 'old-time' Māori pā orchestrated by Augustus Hamilton at the New Zealand International Exhibition, 1906–7 – has received intensive investigation by a range of scholars. While Āraiteuru remains the most spectacular ethnographic display ever staged in the colony, one in which Māori agency was expressed in a variety of ways, the pageantry at the Christchurch exhibition can be placed within a wider spectrum of events through which Māori displayed their culture to the colonisers. One was the old-time 'Maori Village' presented at the New Plymouth Carnival and Industrial Exhibition in 1904–5. To complement the Māori objects exhibited by Pākehā collectors in the exhibition's Curio Room, Te Āti Awa orchestrated a fully palisaded pā that offered 'Native Entertainments', even while it also served as a genuine kāinga in which to receive visitors. While the 'model pā' as casual entertainment for Pākehā has been critiqued as an ethnological imposition, the _tableau vivant_ of an ancient utopian past was clearly a genre that could serve Māori interests in the colonial present.

Chapter Five, 'The Curio Economy', charts the striking asymmetries within the culture of the curio. Gifting is a fundamental Māori mode of behaviour through which individuals and groups assert their mana. Hence the piles of cloaks and weapons heaped by Māori representatives before the royal visitors in 1901, a spectacle that shocked many elite Pākehā onlookers and ensured the passage later that year of the Maori Antiquities Act aimed at restricting the export of 'Maori relics'. Curios might be excavated, purchased, even stolen from burial caves, but the usual way in which they moved from Māori into Pākehā hands was through gifting. Gifts formed the basis of the outstanding collections, including those accumulated by Grey and Mair, but this was also how innumerable farmers, lawyers, churchmen and politicians obtained their Māori treasures. In the Māori world, such gifting embodied reciprocal debt and important taonga were expected to be returned at auspicious occasions or in turn gifted on to further recipients, together with their kōrero (provenance). Having arrived in Pākehā ownership, however, taonga became commodities – objects with market value – and only rarely returned to the original givers. While Grey's outright donation of his collections to the British Museum and Auckland Art Gallery could be construed as an emulation of aristocratic Māori giving, Mair (whose financial situation may have been dire) exacted a £1,000 remuneration that was subscribed by the citizens of Auckland.

Edwards Studio, _Charles F. Goldie in his Studio with Patara Te Tuhi_ , 1901, gelatin silver photograph, 170 × 250 mm. FROM THE ALBUM 'MAORILAND PHOTOGRAPHS', MITCHELL LIBRARY, STATE LIBRARY OF NEW SOUTH WALES, PXA 489

The chapter also highlights the nefarious aspects of such collecting, including the desecration of wāhi tapu (burial places). Māori were aggrieved that Pākehā grave robbers could operate with impunity, when all hell would have been unleashed had any Māori violated a European cemetery. The powerful urge that could lead Pākehā – even those with close associations with the Māori world – to enter such forbidden but alluring spaces can be sensed in the confession of just such an escapade on the part of the respected Captain (later Colonel) T. W. Porter. Gilbert Mair, who penned searing denunciations of such pillage, is himself thought to have indulged in this form of collecting. The faking of Māori artefacts is an under-researched phenomenon, but there is plentiful evidence that such an industry flourished in this period; on occasion, even Māori, it seemed, were not averse to obtaining gift items from Pākehā workshops.

Chapter Six, 'Problems with Portraits', returns to examine the complexities and conflicts generated by the introduction of photographic and painted portraiture – reviled by some Māori, while embraced by others. There is a sense in which the circulation of portrait paintings within the Māori world seemingly offers a corrective to the unrelenting depletion of taonga. Originating as commodities sourced from Pākehā artists or their agents, portraits effectively metamorphosed into taonga that served in the most tapu of Māori ceremonies, the tangihanga. The arrival of King Tāwhiao's funeral procession beneath Waikato's burial mountain of Taupiri in 1894, a climactic moment of a protracted tangi, was marked by the unveiling of a life-sized portrait of Tāwhiao before a crowd of thousands. The painting had been transported from Wellington and was subsequently hung above the coffin while the king lay in state. Immense effort was put into keeping artists and photographers at bay, but in 1894 it was no longer possible to police the use of small, hand-held cameras. The skilled covert practitioner Enos Silvanus Pegler recorded not only the forbidden scene of the coffin and portrait, but also other candid shots of the event that formed the basis of vignettes published in the _New Zealand Graphic_.

The imperative of depiction and reproduction, a fundamental demand of the Pākehā world, underlay the pictorial economy. First there were photographic portraits, whereby the acquisition of a portrait simultaneously allowed your image to circulate. Then came the colourful, life-sized oil portrait, costing considerably more than the photograph. As this chapter argues, there was a close association between land sales and portrait commissioning, and aspects of the portrait trade were just as exploitative as the curio economy. This is seen most clearly in the activities of Walter Buller, who was intimately involved in the Native Land Court as a magistrate and later an independent lawyer and used this milieu to enrich his artefact collection as well as to subsidise his famous portrait collection. Buller cunningly served as an agent for the artist Gottfried Lindauer, so that – as Māori parted with large sums for their life-sized portraits – the facilitating collector quietly accumulated his own collection completely free of charge.

Chapter Seven, 'Pākehā Propaganda', looks inside the circulation of Māori images in the rapidly evolving print media of the period. The turn of the twentieth century saw the arrival of chromolithography, allowing for effective colour reproductions of works of art. Maoriland artists like Kennett Watkins and L. J. Steele also contributed work especially tailored for publication in the illustrated weeklies such as the _New Zealand Graphic_ – especially the lavish Christmas editions that were tailored for sending 'Home'. As expressions of a nascent colonial nationalism – supported by a government-sponsored programme to entice tourists to the 'wonderland' that steam travel was bringing ever closer to Europe – such publications participated in consolidating cultural links with the motherland. The content was nevertheless unpredictable, for in addition to advertisements aimed at settlers, and images of picturesque 'old-time' Māori, appeared stories of interracial love affairs. New Zealand, in appearance at least, was a place of promise.

The contest over the land was a constant theme in the work contributed by the satirical illustrator Trevor Lloyd to the _Auckland Weekly News_ , whose publisher Wilson & Horton lobbied tirelessly on behalf of land-hungry farmers. A native New Zealander and largely self-taught as an artist, Lloyd entertained readers with satires that, in addition to establishing the kiwi as definitive national symbol, also resorted to racial stereotyping. He participated in the ethnological collecting culture by assembling and occasionally exhibiting a collection of Māori antiquities, some of which had been fossicked from burial caves during holiday trips on Auckland's remote west coast. That Lloyd appears to have enjoyed cordial relationships with tangata whenua only serves to heighten the contradictions inherent in the work of Maoriland's most prominent satirist.

Chapter Eight, 'Cosmopolitan Maoriland', uses the famous image of a futuristic Māori traveller to initiate a discussion of New Zealanders' entanglements with the metropolis. Macaulay's image, the originality of which was contested by New Zealand polymath William Colenso, evoked not only imperial decline but also imperial translation – the inheritance of a culture by the colonised. The New Zealander, intended by Macaulay as Māori, slowly morphed into a Pākehā as 'Māori' gradually assumed its new meaning as an ethnic marker. The chapter considers the role of the metropolis in crystallising a _colonial_ identity, whereby Pākehā experienced their 'difference' by travelling 'Home'. The experience of Māori travellers, ranging from King Tāwhiao and his entourage of chiefs to the Māori servicemen forming Seddon's guard during his visits for the jubilee in 1897 and coronation in 1902, was of a completely different order. For them, the experience of the metropolis helped to confirm their Māori identity.

Pākehā ambivalence surrounded Māori who acquired a European education and associated skills, especially when they were perceived to abdicate from the cultural superiority that these accomplishments authorised. The section profiling Māori cosmopolitans highlights the case of Katerina Nikorima who, adopted by Lady Martin, received an elite education 'at Home' but later seemingly withdrew into Māori society. The qualified nature of this withdrawal is suggested by Nikorima's ongoing collaboration with Charles F. Goldie, beginning in 1901 with a painting titled _Kai Paipa_ (Smoking). Held in Bournemouth's Russell-Cotes Art Gallery, _Kai Paipa_ was ironically overlooked when three stereotypically cloak-bedecked portraits by Goldie were selected from this collection for inclusion in Tate Britain's 2015–16 exhibition _Artist and Empire_. Another such cosmopolitan figure is Hēmara Rerehau Te Whanonga, one of a pair of young Waikato men who trained at the Royal Printery in Vienna. While in London for presentation to Queen Victoria, they were photographed in 1860 by the great Antoine Claudet. On his return, Rerehau sided with his Waikato kinsfolk in the disastrous war of 1863–64 and shared in their subsequent exile. Evidence that he continued to communicate with his friends in Austria nevertheless suggests that he was still marked by the cosmopolitanism that was a legacy of his travels.

'Maoriland' was a Pākehā construction, and the cult had a number of officiating 'high priests' who brought differing priorities to bear in their interaction (or lack thereof) with the Māori world. Chapter Nine, 'Maoriland in Focus', returns to those high priests and their legacy. Sir Walter Buller was – in today's terms – fully 'bicultural and bilingual', but this did not mean that he worked in the best interests of Māori. Buller deployed his deep knowledge and experience to entirely personal ends, revealing in his writings both an erudite understanding of Māori values and a brazen capacity to violate them. By comparison, Augustus Hamilton – despite his lack of proficiency in the Māori language – arguably worked in concert with Māori interests. This is confirmed by the respect he was accorded in the Māori world, including the bestowal of a tribal name. The case of the author Johannes C. Andersen, presented by Peter Gibbons as an exemplar of Maoriland, is very different. Christchurch-based Andersen had scarcely any contact with the contemporary Māori world, assuming his 'expertise' entirely from published sources. Ngata humoured Andersen by writing a foreword to the author's rambling _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ (1907), the low-key mockery of which has eluded Maoriland's historians. Alfred Hill, the Wellington-based composer who worked with Andersen on a sonorous 'Exhibition Ode' for Christchurch in 1906, similarly sought Māori material as inspiration for his compositions. With the help of those same leading Māori politicians who supported Hamilton's endeavours in the museum, Hill collected his material directly from Māori informants. James Cowan, the most prolific historian of Maoriland, similarly worked with informants that he termed 'human documents' in an attempt to include relevant Māori perspectives. While he was spurned by later Pākehā historians for his dated language and anecdotal approach, it is noteworthy that current Māori historians value his work – precisely on the strength of the Māori voices he presented.

Maoriland has usually been characterised as a purely local and aesthetically stifled cultural phenomenon, one in which Māori culture was shaped for Pākehā purposes. Hence the vilification of its 'colonising gaze' and all-too-evident appropriative tendencies. Historians of New Zealand art have largely been content to regard the colonial corpus of Maori portraiture and ethnographic depiction as derivative and second-rate – a dull, brown affair that failed to measure up to more alluring international standards, to be succeeded by a more vibrant modernist school in the early twentieth century. By taking a closer look, and especially by factoring in the interplay of Pākehā imagery and Māori objects, _Galleries of Maoriland_ reveals that Māori participation in colonial culture was multifarious and had a global dimension. Indeed, the heritage generated within this bicultural milieu is remarkable in international terms. Addressing the ubiquity of Māori motifs on New Zealand postage stamps, banknotes and publicity imagery of this period, Nicholas Thomas writes that '[i]n no other settler culture have indigenous art forms been mobilized so consistently in nationalist design. . . . The prominence of indigenous reference in New Zealand has been unique.' The argument of this book is that the turn-of-the-century culture of ethnological art and collecting – and especially the shared tradition of Māori portraiture – offers an equally distinctive aspect of New Zealand art history, one that has few parallels in British settler societies.

Samuel Carnell, _Group of Carvings and Weapons_ , 1880s, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, G-19384-1/1

## CHAPTER ONE

## _Curios and Exhibitions_

IN NEW ZEALAND IN THE LATER nineteenth century, a 'curio' was a historic or exotic artefact – a cultural object that by its novelty, rarity, or sheer strangeness summoned various types of distance, whether geographical, temporal, or cultural. Commenting on a proposed loan exhibition to support the inauguration of the town's Technical College, the _Feilding Star_ noted that:

Nearly every home contains a work of art or a curio that no other home in the same town possesses – a painting, a photograph of something unique, an ancient weapon from the Old World or the New, Maori relics of value, rare coins, birds, beasts, mechanical novelties, carvings, and a thousand and one other things that would interest other people.

A curio might be a specimen of contemporary exotica – even a paper artefact such as the translation of the New Testament into Chinese proudly displayed by a returned missionary – but more usually it took the form of an antiquity. Ancestral items from Europe and elsewhere played prominent roles in so-called 'curio courts' at a host of popular exhibitions staged by New Zealand settler communities.

Most often, however, the term 'curio' was used to refer to Māori objects that had moved into Pākehā possession, whether in private hands or in a museum. Like 'taonga', today's catch-all term for Māori objects (and its supposedly more neutral predecessor, 'artefact'), 'curio' could refer equally to antiquities and to items of recent manufacture, to great treasures as well as relatively inconsequential knick-knacks produced for consumption by tourists. The Māori curio supported a widespread antiquarian and ethnographic collecting milieu comprising dedicated curio dealers, working-class fossickers, eager Māori sellers, entrepreneurial Māori artists, and a developing cohort of elite collectors who enjoyed seeing their possessions validated though inclusion in exhibitions and by acquisition on the part of museums both in the colony and abroad. A darker side to this colonial milieu emerges in a later discussion of the 'curio economy', the various means by which collectors obtained their trophies. That is to say, the circumstances by which taonga became curios.

Edmund Walker, after J. A. Gilfillan, _Interior of a Native Village or 'Pa' in New Zealand. Situated near the Town of Petre, at Wanganui_ , c. 1850, hand-coloured lithograph, 480 × 344 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-029-001

The collection of Māori material culture had commenced at the earliest contacts with European voyagers, with such objects today inhabiting a prized ethnographic status on the strength of their presumed freedom from European influence. Māori objects were integral to New Zealand's offerings exhibited in the great commodity displays of the later nineteenth century, beginning with a modest array presented at London's Great Exhibition of 1851. The most interesting collection came from a former New Zealand settler, F. G. Moore, which included a lithograph of J. A. Gilfillan's lost painting, _Interior of a Native Village or 'Pa' in New Zealand, Situated near the Town of Petre, at Wanganui_ , together with:

Six water-colour drawings and six steel engravings of New Zealand subjects. Four native mats or garments. One greenstone Mari [sic] or chief's club. Three specimens of greenstone. One carved box. One war-club. Native fishing net and fishing hooks. Two bottles of insects, Specimens of native grasses. Large map of New Zealand.

Indeed, the lens of exhibitions offers a prime mode by which to chart the identities of collectors as well as the kinds of objects they possessed. In the colony, 'curio' displays featured regularly in civic exhibitions such as those hosted by Mechanics' Institutes, harbingers of the library and the museum. In 1853, for example, choice examples from Sir George Grey's first Māori collection were lent by Lady Grey to the May Conversazione of the Wellington Athenæum and Mechanics' Institute. This viceregal example was followed by innumerable other citizens who enthusiastically participated in what can be termed the 'culture of the curio'. The splendid exhibition of Fijian and Māori 'curios' in the Fine Arts and Industrial Exhibition, mounted at Christmas 1873 by the Auckland Mechanics' Institute, included a collection lent by Adam Brock, a solicitor. One of Brock's exhibits evidences the sensational provenance often asserted in these contexts: 'a carved pipe . . . once the property of the arch-savage Kereopa . . . which retains the native darkness and horrible tattooing of its native owner'.

The culture of the curio can be seen in action at the hugely ambitious New Zealand Exhibition staged at Dunedin in 1865, which emulated the Great Exhibition by dividing exhibits into three sections comprising Raw Materials, Machinery, and Manufactures. Curios inhabited the final category of Manufactures, featuring objects lent by a range of Pākehā collectors (including the Rev. Carl Völkner of Ōpōtiki, whose sensational murder occurred while the exhibition was still running) but notably also by Māori chiefs. Tāreha Te Moananui – the Ngāti Kahungunu leader who would in 1868 become one of the earliest Māori Members of Parliament – lent a finely woven cloak and a taiaha trimmed with kākā feathers, 'formerly used as a war weapon, [but] now to flourish about when haranguing'. Sir George Grey, serving as Governor for a second term, lent an impressive collection of 'native curiosities, among which are several antique specimens, and some which belong to history, as the signs of subjection by important chiefs, presented to Sir George as the representative of majesty'. However, despite the tantalising interconnections that can be glimpsed in the published catalogue – for example, Tāreha's appearance in photographs exhibited by Swan and Wigglesworth, both 'in Native Costume' and 'in European Costume' – the Māori collections were dispersed throughout the provincial courts.

This situation would change in the 1880s. The exhibitions surveyed in this chapter – ranging from art displays staged in Auckland to large-scale expositions in London and Dunedin – reveal an important new direction in the collection and display of Māori material culture. No longer were 'curios' to be heaped in essentially meaningless profusion, marked by little more than an indication of ownership or details of extraordinary provenance. Instead, Māori objects were positioned as ethnographic artefacts and co-opted into evolutionary narratives that simultaneously served both settler-nationalist and aesthetic purposes.

### **NEW ZEALAND ART STUDENTS' ASSOCIATION**

The Art Students' Association, established in late 1883, was an overtly nationalist grouping of artists seeking to promote a local school of art, the achievement of which they believed would require close engagement with the heritage of Māori art. Speaking at a meeting in December of that year, the president, Kennett Watkins, addressed the burning issue of New Zealand's increasing loss of historical Māori art:

We New Zealanders are doubtless aware that the greatest achievements of the Maori artists have been hunted up and sold to strangers, or otherwise have been stolen to furnish foreign museums. A New Zealander would be astonished at the number of ancient carved weapons and implements belonging to the New Zealand of the past in Berlin, at Vienna, and at Paris, to say nothing of the British Museum.

Watkins asserted that Māori art belonged to New Zealand, 'and will be the only relic of the Maori race left, besides that which we hope to do for it in other respects – that is, to observe and record what yet remains of the ancient manners and customs . . . herein lies our duty, and the true direction for our study'.

The Art Students' Association was formed in rivalry with the Auckland Society of Arts, whose exhibitions were bolstered by loan collections of European art that enabled the display of cultural capital on the part of elite 'non-artist' members. By contrast, the Art Students proposed to show their work in tandem with Māori art, calling in July 1884 for 'all who may be in possession of Maori carvings, weapons, mats, &c., to oblige by forwarding same for exhibition as a loan collection'. Despite doubts that this would even prove possible, given the predations of foreign collectors and museums, a mass of choice specimens poured into the Choral Hall from a range of local collectors, including Captain E. H. Northcroft, Miss Ring, and Messrs Seymour George and C. O. Davis. A listing of work lent by Davis, a Land Purchase Agent who had arrived in the colony around 1831, suggests the choice nature of the collection that would enter the Auckland Museum on his death in 1887:

. . . [A] basket made of feathers; Maori antimacassar; old Maori girdle, made of flax leaf; a trap to catch brown parrots; a cloak for the shoulders, dyed black from the bark of the hinau, and then plunged into chemical mud well known to the Maoris; a mat trimmed with feathers of the wood hen; weapons made from the bone of a whale; fancy basket, used by the chief women for their treasures, and also used to hold calabashes of preserved birds when presented to distinguished guests; mat made from kiwi feathers; box for holding ornaments for the hair; carved clubs, &c.

An exhibition of living Māori 'specimens' was also planned: 'Mr. Davis intends to secure the attendance of two ancient specimens of the Māori race, so as to give a realistic surrounding to his fine collection of native curios.' Several Māori visitors arrived with Davis on the following day, when – 'in their European dress' – they inspected the collection and particularly admired the inlaid scenes of Māori life by Anton Seuffert. Plans to exhibit two of them in the evening, however, were thwarted when the Choral Society required their hall. Though scheduled to return 'in full costume' the following evening, the two Māori chiefs – 'to the infinite disgust of both management and audience' – failed to make an appearance.

The 1884 Art Students' exhibition was judged a success and plans were hatched for a similar loan collection in the following year. This time there would be prizes offered for drawings of Māori carvings and cloaks, 'together with scale drawing of a war canoe, and also for the best picture of a Maori pa in the olden time. These should bring out some good work, and prove of interest to collectors of Maori curios.' The October 1885 exhibition offered an even more spectacular assembly of Māori art, with loans negotiated with C. O. Davis, Judge Monro, R. C. Barstow, J. R. Smith, and Adam Cairns. As in the case of the first exhibition, there is no surviving catalogue and newspaper commentaries provide the sole source of information on the show. There we learn that Cairns, a city councillor and the proprietor of the Star Hotel, lent an important canoe bow carving that the Art Students insured for £150, which complemented the stern carvings lent by Barstow. Between the carvings was placed a 'fine model of a Maori head executed in kauri gum . . . artistically arranged with blanket, &c. so naturally, that it has the appearance of a native standing up in his canoe'.

Josiah Martin, _Mohi Te-Ahia-Te-Ngu_ , c. 1885, albumen photograph, 205 × 151 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, PURCHASED 1973

The newspapers also reveal that, in addition to the contemporary art displayed by the members, there was an accompanying loan collection of Māori portraits that provided a point of interest for the authentically attired Māori who finally made an appearance at the exhibition:

A Maori, old Mohi, was present on Saturday night, decked in mat [cloak] and feathers, and carrying taiaha and mere. He took much interest in the Maori portraits by Mr. Lindauer (lent by Mr. Partridge), and to the amusement of onlookers, took as many as possible to admire his own portrait, exhibited by Mrs. Whitney, which he considered to be 'kaipai' [sic].

While the sole entry in the competition for a picture of 'The Interior of a Maori Pa in the Olden Time', contributed by the naïve artist Sam Stuart, was found wanting and no prize awarded, the calibre of student work from the school run by Kennett Watkins at the Auckland Museum garnered considerable critical praise. 'Such careful, conscientious drawings are immeasurably more valuable as studies, and more pleasing to the eye, than some of the large compositions on the walls, which are so obviously the result of a disordered imagination.' The third and final exhibition staged by the Art Students in November 1886 lacked any kind of Māori loan collection, but the _Herald_ reviewer again lavished praise on student work, especially the medal-winning 'best study of still life: New Zealand subject' exhibited by the sixteen-year-old Charles F. Goldie. Identifiable from the description 'Maori carvings, mere, bailer, matting, and tui bird', the watercolour depicts a finely woven cloak with a distinctive tāniko border that is still held in the collection of the Auckland Museum, and hence is revealing of the intimate access that Kennett Watkins' students enjoyed to the collection.

Sam Stuart, _The Interior of a Maori Pa in the Olden Time_ , 1885, oil on canvas, 772 × 1420 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MRS SAM STUART, 1923

The Art Students' events can be distinguished from the curio courts offered by the Mechanics' Institutes in so far as the Māori objects were explicitly presented _as art_ , a full century before _Te Maori_ 's triumphant American tour in the 1980s. From the outset, Watkins had referred to Māori _art_ , a tradition with its own history and evolution. Not everyone thought that the Māori art 'worked', and the _Herald_ critic was particularly slighting in regard to the degrading influence of what he saw as a 'Maori curiosity shop' that had been annexed to the Art Students' exhibition. Committee member Alfred Sharpe, Auckland's leading landscape watercolourist, promptly clarified the stance of the Art Students: 'And with regard to the Maori curios: we do not call them curios; we call them Maori works of art; and they are so in every sense of the word, and as worthy of exhibition as our own, if not more so.' Nevertheless, it was an art that was firmly located in the past, as a later passage in Sharpe's letter reveals: 'And I venture to say that, in the hereafter, when our Maoris and our forests have both disappeared, people will arise and call us blessed for the botanical and ethnological records we will leave behind us.'

In the juxtaposition of Māori art with colonial productions, and despite several prizes that were offered for contemporary Māori contributions, there was never any intention of sponsoring a revival of Māori art. On this score, Kennett Watkins was adamant: 'Now it is not to be supposed for a moment that we wish to resuscitate this art; that is impossible, however much we might wish to see this done by the Maori race.' In a lecture on 'Maori Art' delivered during the second exhibition, Watkins arrived at a revealing conclusion:

Charles F. Goldie, _Still Life_ , 1886, watercolour on paper, 264 × 370 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF INTERNATIONAL ART CENTRE

He stated that the Maori was the one savage of the world who had excelled in art, so much so that had he been a worker in stone instead of wood we should now be in possession of an enduring record of his achievements, and one which ourselves as his inheritors, might contemplate with pride.

In other words, the Art Students' exhibitions were intended to appropriate Māori art as an _inheritance_ for colonial culture – as collections of antiquities, as study material to enable production of historicising art and, most importantly of all, as a centuries-old tradition that could serve as a prehistory for the recently established, but fast-evolving, tradition of Pākehā art.

For the collectors, such events undoubtedly afforded gratifying public exposure and recognition of treasures that normally inhabited the domestic sphere. They make for a heterogeneous group: Captain Northcroft, a military officer soon to be profiled in W. E. Gudgeon's _Defenders of New Zealand_ (1887); Seymour George, the teetotal politician; J. R. Smith, longstanding principal of St Stephen's Native Boys' School. One of the named lenders, however, enjoyed a noteworthy prominence as a collector and patron of collecting and exhibiting institutions in Auckland. This was Robert Barstow, Auckland's retired Resident Magistrate, an enthusiastic adept within the culture of the curio. Born in Yorkshire, Barstow travelled extensively in the Pacific as a young man in the 1840s and 1850s, building a collection that was later destroyed in a fire. He reinvented himself as a numismatist, forming a 'collection of coins [that] embodies within itself an almost complete history, ranging back to a period 600 years before the Christian era'. Fixated by ancient history, Barstow contributed popular lectures such as 'The Chaldaic Account of the Deluge' (1879) and 'Egyptian Lights upon the Exodus of Israel' (1880), as well as ethnological essays such as 'The Maori Canoe' (1878). In the latter essay he boasts that, during his tenure as president of the Auckland Institute, he persuaded Pāora Tūhaere, the leading chief of Ngāti Whātua, to deposit in the museum the carvings from the great war canoe _Te Toki-a-Tāpiri_ (Tāpiri's Battle-axe). As a member of Auckland's social elite, Barstow played a crucial role in establishing and supporting organisations such as the Auckland Institute and Museum, the Auckland Society of Arts and the New Zealand Art Students' Association, in an honorary capacity that we might recognise as colonial _noblesse oblige_.

### **COLONIAL AND INDIAN EXHIBITION**

The Colonial and Indian Exhibition, staged in 1886 at South Kensington in London, was New Zealand's most spectacular showing at the international exhibitions of the nineteenth century. _The Times_ opened its highly favourable review by noting that 'none of the Courts in the Exhibition is more systematically arranged or more attractive and instructive'. Credit was paid to the principal commissioner, Julius von Haast of the Canterbury Museum, who was responsible for collecting the exhibits and coordinating the other commissioners. The New Zealand Court was divided into three parallel sections: the eastern section featured a conservatory of native ferns ('one of the most delightful retreats in the Exhibition') which led to a display of polished native woods; the central court was devoted to an ethnological display and to raw materials; and the western section showcased manufactured goods. _The Times_ discerned an evolutionary trajectory in the display:

The whole arrangement of these courts is admirably planned to lead the intelligent visitor step by step from 'Old New Zealand,' as exemplified in the Maori Court, through successive sections illustrating the physical features of the country, its natural resources and productions, and their gradual development under systematic colonisation to the present high standard of civilisation.

The role of Māori objects in the display could not be made clearer: the indigenous 'curios' served as a foil to 'civilised New Zealand'.

The Maori Court was the responsibility of Dr Walter Lawry Buller, one of a number of colonial commissioners, whose substantial personal collection formed the bulk of the display. Buller already enjoyed a European reputation as an ornithologist, and a choice display of some 700 of his taxidermied New Zealand birds was included in the exhibition. But it was in the guise of ethnologist that the colonial-born intellectual now embarked on an enhancement of his metropolitan status. The avowed purpose of the ethnological display was 'to illustrate the history, art, manners and customs of the Maori race'. A prominent component of the display was Buller's collection of life-sized portraits by Gottfried Lindauer. Some of the portraits presented Māori 'celebrities' – _Tawhiao, the Maori King_ ; _Wahanui, the Maori Orator_ ; _Hitiri Paerata, the Hero of Orakau_ – attired in native costume and carrying weapons; others showed 'handsome Native girls and half-breeds', said by _The Times_ to 'have always a little crowd of admirers'. Just as landscape paintings were able to illuminate geographical exhibits, so the Māori portraits brought to life the cloaks mounted within the wall-cases, and the weapons and greenstones in flat showcases, all the exhibition furniture having been specially constructed from New Zealand woods. Ahead of the exhibition, Buller nursed plans for 'an elaborate illustrated guidebook of the New Zealand court, in an edition _de luxe_ , containing photographs of the Maori weapons, canoes, portraits, &c., by the Woodbury type process, with suitable letter-press'. Aside from surviving photographs that document aspects of the exhibition, the publication project would remain unrealised.

Unidentified photographer, Woodbury Permanent Photographic Printing Company, _The Pataka Te Takinga at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition_ , albumen photograph, 196 × 238 mm. PITT RIVERS MUSEUM, OXFORD, 1998.260.7, GIFT OF SIR WALTER BULLER, 1887

Unidentified photographer, Woodbury Permanent Photographic Printing Company, _The Carved Tomb of Te Arawa Chief Waata Taranui at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition_ , albumen photograph, 191 × 241 mm. PITT RIVERS MUSEUM, OXFORD, 1998.260.8, GIFT OF SIR WALTER BULLER, 1887

It was the enmity between Buller and the highly controlling principal commissioner, Julius von Haast, that almost stymied Buller's ethnological vision. Faced with a logistical crisis at the allotted site, Haast had happily banished the entirety of New Zealand's extensive art display to the relative backwater of a gallery above the Royal Albert Hall, a relegation that had originally included Buller's gallery of Māori portraits. It was Leopold Buller, arriving in London a month before his father, who was horrified to discover that the paintings were excluded from the court. Truly his father's son, Leopold immediately rectified the situation:

Protestations proved vain, so the young fellow took the law into his own hands, and calmly declared that not another case of his father's curios should be opened till the portraits were restored to their proper places. As the Buller collection is the most perfect of its kind in the world (the one presented to the British Museum by Sir George Grey comes next), even the autocratic Executive Commissioner dared not dispense with it, and the portraits reappeared.

Buller also annoyed Haast with his criticism concerning the latter's reluctance to acknowledge the kudos due to exhibitors such as Dr James Hector of the Colonial Museum: 'I don't like to see men who slaved night and day to send us _curios_ , and who are 16,000 miles away, defrauded of the praise properly their due. It is small-minded.' Preoccupied with 'blowing his own trumpet', Haast had conveniently 'forgotten' to acknowledge his professional colleagues when speaking to newspaper reporters and royal visitors alike. According to Buller, when Haast was interrogated by the Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII) regarding a spectacular geological model of New Zealand lent by the Colonial Museum, Hector's name went unmentioned.

An elaborately carved Māori tomb decorated with albatross feathers, acquired by Buller through the offices of his brother-in-law, Gilbert Mair, stood in the adjacent conservatory that was intended to convey the nature of New Zealand's primeval 'bush'. According to an expatriate New Zealand visitor, this was particularly effective at night: '[U]nder the electric light, its shell-spangled front glimmers with a strange effect, whilst the murmur of a waterfall, and the rustling of flax leaves are delightfully suggestive of "Maoriland."' A similarly spectacular attraction in the Maori Court was the carved porch of a pātaka, which Buller had also acquired through Mair. The _Anglo-New Zealander_ reported that these carvings also benefited from nocturnal viewing, 'when the pearl-shell "eyes," with which it is profusely studded, sparkle under the electric light'. Adding a further illusion of vitality were the wax mannequins, draped in cloaks, which were positioned within the porch and alongside the pātaka. One of a select group of nineteenth-century pātaka to survive in museum collections, Te Takinga – named after a leading ancestor of Ngāti Pikiao – is now a prized exhibit in the Māori displays of Te Papa. The Prince of Wales showed particular interest in the storehouse, asking Buller about its age and history; one can imagine that the circumstances of its acquisition – and the rarity of such an artefact – would have been stressed by its exhibitor.

The most fateful meeting, as far as Buller was concerned, occurred between the Prince and Lindauer's portrait of the alluring Terewai Horomona as a poi dancer. When Haast's knighthood was announced in the Queen's Birthday honours list, Buller looked in vain for any mention of his own name. By good fortune, however, the Prince of Wales made a further inspection of the New Zealand Court on the very day that the honours list was published, escorted by Buller's friend, Sir Somers Vine – one of the chief organisers of the London exhibition. The legend of how Buller secured his knighthood was published soon after his death in Wellington's gossipy weekly, the _New Zealand Free Lance_ – almost certainly echoing postprandial recounting of the event by Buller himself:

The Prince glanced politely, but wearily, at the kauri gum and wool and flax and other exhibits, and was apparently about to go when he caught sight of a picture on the wall – Lindauer's painting of a pretty Hawke's Bay Maori girl, with a wreath of clematis thrown carelessly over her head. The Prince asked for a chair, and he sat there looking at the picture for several minutes. At last, as he rose to go, he said to Sir Somers Vine and Dr Buller: 'Do you know, that is one of the most beautiful pictures I have ever seen!'

It was Somers Vine who suggested that Buller immediately dispatch the painting to the palace, asking the Prince to accept it as a 'memento of his visit'. And sure enough, the gesture returned its dividend in a list of supplementary Queen's Birthday honours which announced that Dr Walter Buller had also been created a KCMG. The _Free Lance_ made no mention of the generous gift that accompanied the painting, a £5,000 contribution to the Prince's project for an Imperial Institute to place the treasures of the colonial exhibition into the form of a permanent display of Great Britain's imperial might.

Gottfried Lindauer, _Terewai Horomona: The Maori Poi Dancer_ , 1886, oil on canvas, 1016 × 812 mm. ROYAL COLLECTION TRUST, © HER MAJESTY QUEEN ELIZABETH II, 2018

There were Māori objects and portraits lent from a range of collections, both metropolitan and colonial. 'Maori weapons' came from the London-based representatives of the late Dr Featherston; a 'Kahu-kereru, or feather mat' from Lady Dillon Bell, the Agent-General's wife; and 'Two Maori greenstone meres' from Thomas Russell. From New Zealand, Captain Mair sent 'Numerous Maori exhibits', and even R. C. Barstow sent a 'Specimen of Native carving' from Auckland. Numbered among the relegated paintings shown at the Royal Albert Hall were H. C. Seppings Wright's _Life Size Portrait of Tawhiao, the Maori King_ , executed during Tāwhiao's 1884 sojourn in the metropolis, and Māori portraits by Eleanor (Kate) Sperrey of Wellington. But all of these offerings were effectively overshadowed by Buller's contributions, not only by their central location and sheer extent, but also through the prominence of the labels announcing 'Dr. Buller's collection'. It was the critical success of this exhibition, especially in conjunction with the awarding of his knighthood, which allowed Buller to transcend his colonial origins by reinventing himself as an English gentleman. Some New Zealand-based commentators remained unimpressed, including one who referred scornfully to 'Dr Buller, who has grown rich on the spoils of poor simple Maoris, and now wears these after the manner of an American Indian chief, who decorated himself with the scalps of his victims'.

Despite the inaccessible nature of the Royal Albert Hall, where the pictures were effectively 'skied' in an upper gallery, some still argued that New Zealand's art vied with the best of the colonial exhibitors. One metropolitan critic, J. A. Blaikie, begged to differ in an acerbic review in the leading journal, the _Magazine of Art_. Blaikie asserted that the show of colonial art in the Royal Albert Hall contained 'little that appeals to painters and students of painting'. For the English critic, the New Zealand artists' productions were 'essentially home-products in spirit and in method', reminding him of Royal Academy contributions from some 20 years earlier:

New Zealand art, in fact, can only be said to exist in its very restricted application to the primitive and archaic art of the Maoris, the wood-carving of canoes and _wharés_ , the jade or nephrite _mere-pounamus_ , the curious objects of personal adornment, and other illustrations of barbaric handicraft.

Blaikie emphasised, however, that '[t]he show of indigenous art concerns the archaeologist and ethnologist rather than the artist'. In distinction to the situation in New Zealand, where Māori art met with critical interest on the part of local historicising artists, in the metropolis such objects found it difficult to transcend the category of 'barbaric handicraft'. As _The Times_ wrote in relation to the waxen Māori figures: 'Let us take leave of Dr. Buller's friends with tenderness and pity. The inevitable has come upon them, and although they and their works are to some extent still among us, they belong to a past which is as dead as the age of the cave-men and lake-dwellers.'

### **NEW ZEALAND AND SOUTH SEAS EXHIBITION**

The erudite Dr Thomas Morland Hocken, Dunedin's leading collector and bibliophile, presided over the Early History, Maori, and South Seas Court at the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition. This was the second of Dunedin's great exhibitions, staged over the summer of 1889–90. The first, the New Zealand Exhibition of 1865, had included an important showing of Māori artefacts, lent in the main by Sir George Grey, alongside what amounted to the first full-scale exhibition of colonial art. A quarter-century on, Hocken and his assistant Augustus Hamilton engineered a far more ambitious undertaking – a spectacular display dedicated to the 'anthropology of the aborigines of the colony' that had no parallel in any New Zealand museum of the period. In a series of published articles, Hocken divided the Māori past into three discrete 'periods' – stone age, bone age, and wood age – despite noting in the introduction to the printed catalogue that '[t]he stone age through which Europe long ago passed yet survives in Polynesia'. In fact, Hocken's divisions were taxonomic rather than historical, reflecting media-based divisions within the display itself. The juxtaposition of Pacific and Māori 'prehistory' with Pākehā 'history' points to the rupture of colonial time, despite Dunedin's printed catalogue prioritising 'Early History' ahead of the 'Exhibits connected with the Maori Race' and the various 'South Seas Islands'. Of course, the display itself, and viewers' responses to it, did not necessarily correspond with the interpretive strategies of the printed catalogue.

The catalogue of the Māori section opens with Frederick R. Chapman's 'Anthropological Collection Illustrating the Arts of the Maori Race at the period which immediately preceded the advent of the European population, being the Stone Age of the race, collected and arranged by the exhibitor'. A lawyer and amateur ethnological collector, Chapman exhibited stone objects which had been foraged during curio hunts in Otago. What is noteworthy is how these anonymous items appeared in conjunction with ancient taonga on loan from Māori owners. One such was a polished 'Toki-Uri', or ancestral adze, that belonged to the Hon. Hōri Kerei Taiaroa (Member of Parliament for Southern Maori) and which possessed a multi-tribal provenance stretching back 300 years, having belonged successively to Waitaha, Ngāti Māmoe and Ngāi Tahu. Discussing the exhibition's display of heitiki, the most prized of all greenstone amulets, Hocken claimed that '[t]hey are not made now, but a great many have been ploughed or dug up in all parts of the colony. In explanation of this it is said that old persons, who possessed them, sometimes buried them before they died, in fear that these ornaments should fall into the hands of strangers.'

Complicating the 'stone age' credentials of Chapman's collection, however, were such listed items as 'Modern Maori Ear Pendants made by political prisoners in the Dunedin Gaol' – in other words, relatively recent work produced by Taranaki Māori exiled to Otago following the sacking of the pacifist settlement of Parihaka in November 1881. Ancient and modern work also commingled within collections such as that of Gilbert Mair, which consisted mainly of works gifted to him in his professional military capacity by Māori tribes and individuals. Even within the exceptionally rare category of kōauau (flutes) made from human bone, Mair's examples included the 300-year-old kōauau Murirangaranga, famously played by Tūtānekai to his lover Hinemoa eleven generations earlier; a 150-year-old example made from the arm bone of Ngārangi Kakapiti of Tūhoe; and a modern example 'made from the thigh bone of Peka Makarini, who was entrusted by Te Kooti with the execution of his butcheries, and was shot in the Maori war on the 7th January 1870'.

Hocken's so-called 'wood age' also included exhibits with contemporary historical relevance, including a contentious taiaha that was listed among the loans from the Otago University Museum. Originally housed at Wellington in a case in the parliamentary library, the taiaha was accompanied by an extraordinary label:

The name of this taiaha is Mahuta, and it is celebrated as the emblem of the aukati, and signified that the chief holding it had authority to kill any Europeans crossing the forbidden boundary. It was presented to Government by Wahanui, in token of the establishment of peace, and has been deposited in the General Assembly Library by the Hon. John Ballance, the Native Minister.

Sir George Grey, a Member of Parliament at the time of the presentation, had posed a series of searching questions regarding the object: '(1.) Upon what authority this historical description of this taiaha rests? (2.) Who gave any authority to the chief holding it to kill any Europeans crossing a certain boundary? (3.) By what chiefs has such authority been held? (4.) Have any of them exercised the authority stated?' Grey's own view was that peace had been established some fifteen or sixteen years earlier and he knew also that Pākehā had repeatedly crossed the supposedly forbidden boundary line. He particularly objected to the deposit of the taiaha within the parliamentary library, 'where it might in future acquire something of the sanctity of a historical relic, and by the aid of the legend inscribed on its case, mislead posterity'. The great Ngāti Maniapoto chief Wahanui Huatare apparently enjoyed quite a reputation for practical trickery and had perpetrated 'an audacious tarradiddle' on the hapless Ballance. Hence the subsequent banishment of the 'excellent imitation of an ancient Maori weapon' to a distant museum, where it still brandished the label documenting its contentious provenance.

As at London three years earlier, portrait paintings occupied a prominent position within the Maori Court. These included five portraits from the Mair collection _–_ the work of Gilbert Mair's wife, Kate Sperrey; a collection of nine oil portraits by Gottfried Lindauer, lent by 'The Native Owners at Turakina'; and Lindauer's _The Maori at Home_ (1886), a gigantic, life-sized depiction of Ngāti Kahungunu chief Harawira Mahikai Te Tātere and his second wife, Maata Makimaki, posed before the porch of the meeting house Kahurānaki. The latter painting had served as the centrepiece of the portrait display in London, but was only grudgingly included in Dunedin. As Hocken wrote to Mair: 'Buller's picture has long ago been safely erected and, as he requested, an insurance of £600 put on it. Opinions differ – I would not give him £30 for it. To my mind it is uninteresting, most typical, and like all Lindauer's pictures, deadly flat.' Its inclusion was nevertheless obligatory, for Sir Walter was also contributing his prized trophy, the pātaka Te Takinga, which had only just returned from its latest showing at the Melbourne International Exhibition of 1888–89.

The imposing pātaka would make a crucial contribution to Hocken's exhibition, together with an 80 × 22-foot 'Maori House' formed from 61 carved panels contributed by the Hawke's Bay-based collector Augustus Hamilton. Most of these poupou, originally commissioned by Hawke's Bay chief Karaitiana Takamoana, were acquired by Hocken for the Otago Museum; later, ethnologist H. D. Skinner scandalously dispersed many as 'duplicates' to foreign museums. Samuel Carnell made an evocative photograph of Hamilton while he was applying coats of varnish to the spectacular exhibits he had obtained for the Dunedin exhibition. The calibre of Hamilton's collection, documented when on show in the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, is evidenced by the trophy-like photograph of Carnell's that opens this chapter. The image appears in _Maori Art_ (1901) over the title ' _Group of Carvings and Weapons_ ', where Hamilton added: 'The light-coloured _mere_ is a beautiful specimen, called " _Tahiti-whenua_ ," belonging to Airene [sic] (Mrs Donnelly), of Heretaunga, Hawke's Bay.'

Gottfried Lindauer, _The Maori at Home_ [Harawira Mahikai Te Tātere and his second wife, Maata Makimaki], 1886, oil on canvas, 3220 × 2530 mm. BULLER COLLECTION, WHANGANUI REGIONAL MUSEUM, 1928.57

The 'Maori' displays were juxtaposed with those addressed to 'Early History', referring to the European documentary history that commenced with sixteenth-century maps of European discoveries in the Pacific, and led inexorably to Cook's 'discovery' of New Zealand in 1769. Hocken divided the ocean of paper artefacts – documents and printed books – between those dating from before the colony's foundation, and those that were connected with the actual settlement beginning in 1840. Among the latter exhibits was an 'Advertisement of Literary Society for British Settlers in New Zealand 1839', lent by the same F. R. Chapman who exhibited his 'Stone Age' Māori collection. A range of individuals contributed unusual printings, such as the 1855 copy of 'Robinson Crusoe in Maori' from a Mr Everett of Masterton, but the vast bulk of 'Earliest New Zealand Newspapers and Government Gazettes', as well as the 'Earliest Pictorial Illustrations of New Zealand', came from Hocken's own substantial collection. In contrast with the Stone, Bone and Wooden Ages of the Māori past, the coming of the Pākehā was strikingly represented as the Age of Paper. As Chris Healy persuasively argues in _From the Ruins of Colonialism: History as Social Memory_ (1997): 'European history in Australia was born modern and consequently born in documents and words, not objects. . . . Written or printed evidence, records, correspondence, documents, registers and census data were constituted as the key material remains of history in Australia.' The point is equally valid for New Zealand.

Samuel Carnell, _Augustus Hamilton with Carved Poupou from Heretaunga, Commissioned by Karaitiana Takamoana_ , c. 1889, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, 1/1-19380-G

In 1865, the New Zealand Exhibition had mounted a show of contemporary New Zealand art that was embedded within a British display; now Hocken's 'pictorial illustrations' amounted to a veritable gallery of significant colonial art, executed decades earlier. Featured artists included Charles Heaphy, Edward Norman, P. J. Hogan, J. A. Gilfillan, C. D. Barraud, John Williams and Joseph Merrett. These were the artists who had documented the early settlements and significant historical episodes, including the engagements of 'Heke's War' and portraits of the protagonists in these events. The majority were characteristically works on paper, in the form of unique or reproductive graphic works, but prominent among them was one of Hocken's most prized possessions, English artist James Smetham's large 1863 oil painting _The New Zealand Chiefs in Wesley's House_. This work, documenting a celebrated Māori expedition to England in 1862–63, also evidences Hocken's tireless quest for New Zealand treasures that he could repatriate for his collection.

John R. Morris, _Maori Chief's greenstone 'Mere Mere's'_ and _Maori Chief's Whalebone 'Mere Mere's'_ , 1889–90, gelatin silver photographs, 143 × 205 mm and 144 × 206 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, PURCHASED 1984

John R. Morris, one of Dunedin's leading commercial photographers, was responsible for coordinating the album of portraits that was presented to John Roberts, president of the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, at a celebratory evening toasting the success of the event. Of arguably greater commercial importance to Morris was the opportunity he enjoyed to document the Māori exhibits in a series of photographs that became widely collected in tandem with his popular series of sublime South Island landscapes. Images such as _Maori Chief's greenstone 'Mere Mere's'_ and _Maori Chief's Whalebone 'Mere Mere's'_ echo the media-driven taxonomic divisions of stone, bone and wood conceptualised by Hocken, while also suggesting the possibility that – rather than simply documenting the exhibition – Morris was permitted to coordinate displays for photographic purposes. This conjecture is confirmed by the claustrophobic composition of _Ancient Maori Carvings No 1_ , a print preserved in an album of Hocken's, which brings together a range of items that appear differently configured in variant photographs such as _Maori War Impliments & Carvings No 6_. These latter two photographs both include Auckland Museum's preserved head, displayed on a cloak-draped plinth, when newspaper commentaries reveal that for public exhibition it was firmly secured within a 'square box'. It seems that the entrepreneurial Morris – presumably with the assistance of Hocken – made the most of his opportunity to create a still-life composition in emulation of the highly marketable image created several years earlier by the Auckland photographer Josiah Martin.

John R. Morris, _Maori War Impliments & Carvings No 6_, 1889–90, gelatin silver photograph, 142 × 202 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MICHAEL GRAHAM-STEWART

Martin's contentious image _'The Old Order Changeth'_ , c. 1885 [see p. 16], in turn possesses a mysterious connection with the Art Students' exhibition of 1885, in which the photographer was a leading exhibitor. Described in 1904 as an 'Auckland curio-monger and photographer, scientist, and M.A.', Josiah Martin maintained a vigorous parallel career as an educational lecturer, expounding on scientific and historical topics. He presented himself as an authority on prehistory, as in August 1885 when he lectured the Auckland Institute on 'certain stone, bone, and bronze weapons from the Swiss lake-dwellings', objects drawn from the bequest to Auckland Museum by the late James Tannock Mackelvie. Projected limelight images and diagrams enabled 'a comparison between them and similar articles from other parts of Europe and North America'. Martin's active participation in British as well as colonial antiquarian cultures is revealed by an evocatively titled 1893 public entertainment, 'The Fight for Life: A Story of Struggle and Success'. This combined 'limelight pictures of the relics of the ancestors of our race' with a highly tactile display of 'a number of flint weapons fashioned in the ages before history and found in the old gravel beds of Europe', drawn from Martin's own collection. By juxtaposing European relics with 'scenes of native life in Fiji, New Guinea, and New Zealand', Martin makes explicit an evolutionary trajectory that linked prehistorical Europe with the 'stone-age' cultures of the Pacific. It is this widespread engagement with Māori 'prehistory', including the ethnological art tradition that sought to visualise this lost world, which is addressed in the next chapter. Thanks in large part to the collection and exhibition of antiquities, antiquity itself could be approached and understood in Pākehā terms.

Louis J. Steele, _Spoils to the Victor_ , 1908, oil on panel, 525 × 411 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF THE AUCKLAND PICTURE PURCHASE FUND, 1912

## CHAPTER TWO

## _Māori Prehistory_

PREHISTORY – THAT SHADOWY ZONE characterised by Governor Grey as a 'night of fearful gloom, unillumined by the light of written records' – was a European conception of relatively recent provenance, the result of increasing archaeological evidence of human antiquity on earth. Antiquarianism was the practice that sought to interpret ancient artefacts or archaeological monuments, detecting connections between cultures that, in line with the period, were framed in nationalist terms. In other words, nineteenth-century British or Danish antiquarianism emphatically claimed evidence of a British or Danish prehistory. When translated to a New Zealand colonial context, antiquarianism inevitably assumed a colonising role within a wider ethnological project that aimed to co-opt the Māori past on behalf of a Pākehā posterity. Antiquarianism and ethnology offered a positivistic synthesis of art and science for which high hopes were held. As a text under an illustration of ancient carvings on display in the Auckland Museum breezily asserted: 'A good deal of attention is being paid now to the ethnological significance of these Maori carvings, and it is possible that when scientific knowledge is brought to bear upon it many interesting things will be brought to light.' This hopeful mission statement obscured the fact that such endeavour would be more likely to illuminate European desire for 'ethnological significance' than authentic indigenous knowledge.

An almost limitless fascination with the ancient past was fuelled by the discovery of rare or unusual curios. One of the most celebrated of these was the so-called Tamil Bell, found by William Colenso in 1836 in use by a Māori community as a cooking pot. Another noteworthy discovery was the mysterious Korotangi – a stone bird claimed by Māori to have been carried to Aotearoa by migrants on the _Tainui_ waka. Speculation surrounded any item fashioned from unfamiliar materials, as well as mysterious discoveries such as 'tattooed rocks' of indeterminate provenance. Chalk rubbings of the 'inscriptions and hieroglyphics' on rocks found on an ocean beach near Raglan were captured by a number of photographers, including by a 'lady amateur' of New Plymouth. Such documents proved as fascinating for the general public who were invited to view them, as for the savants of the Polynesian Society to whom prints of the photographs were duly sent.

Albert Percy Godber, _Rock with Maori Markings, at Raglan_ , c. 1920, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, 1/2-003134

'Penetrating' the mists of prehistory was a speciality of itinerant lecturers, whose theories were widely reported – and vigorously disputed – in the colonial press. One of the more imaginative and sensationalising of such contributors was the colourful, English-born collector, meteorologist and theosophical mystic Clement L. Wragge, who in early 1909 delivered mesmerising lectures on science and 'true' religion while promulgating his theory that New Zealand had been part of a great continent destroyed millions of years earlier by ice and snow. Later that year he predicted that, together with the entire Southern Hemisphere, New Zealand could expect more earthquakes, droughts and volcanic eruptions as a consequence of solar eruptions. To clinch his argument, Wragge pointed to a recent Wellington earthquake and the drought in Argentina.

While undertaking an exploring trip to the Bay of Islands in early 1910, Wragge found what he believed to be 'the remains of an ancient city or temple that probably dates back to the time of sun worship'. Inscribed upon blocks of stone, 'hewn by prehistoric man', were 'written' records of immense antiquity which he photographed for his research into 'the megalithic track of ancient man when he was forced by change of climate to migrate from the northern to the southern hemisphere'. Wragge surmised that the discovered rocks and their associated sun worship dated back 500,000 or more years, and were connected to the great sunken Pacific continent of Lemuria – explaining why he had named his recent discovery 'Lemurion'. The Lemurian hypothesis, an attempt to explain geological and biological connections across bodies of water, would be sunk by the new paradigm of plate tectonics and continental drift.

Wragge had a great many detractors. One was Wellington-based Alexander McKay, who pointedly asked why – had such a civilisation ever existed – the evidence was not more widespread. The geologically savvy McKay knew that the structures in question were entirely natural examples of decomposing basalt, such as Wragge might find in many other districts: 'In the Whitianga and Gumtown districts he will discover a perfect Egypt of like prehistoric remains.' In a lengthy riposte, well-known interpreter and Māori antiquarian Henry M. Stowell, or Hāre Hongi – who had been familiar with the stones since childhood – heaped scorn on Wragge's theories. Stowell related the Māori legends that associated the massive rock structure known as Te Pā-tū-a-Kupe – the fortified bastion of Kupe – with the pioneering Polynesian navigator. Augustus Hamilton, the director of the Dominion Museum who had been travelling in the area in the company of Stowell, also dismissed any human agency behind the alleged 'writing', while wryly noting that 'the eye of faith could see much'.

An entirely undaunted Wragge proceeded to make another discovery, this time comprising massive 'prehistoric' drains between Kaipara and Hokianga, the origins of which he declared to be unknown to local Māori. Characteristically, Wragge detected evidence of a 'master mind':

It affords quite a field for speculation. Who were the people who displayed such industry and intelligence? How account for such advanced designs? Were they the work of some visitor trained in engineering, perhaps saved from shipwreck? Or was there some individual in the primitive race a natural engineer, 'born to higher things?'

This further 'discovery' and associated musings provoked another counter-blast from Stowell, who explained how Māori laid such drains to sustain eel harvests as well as to create and maintain taro cultivations. Massive canals had also been cut for canoe portage at times of high tide or flood. 'The idea that such things are attributable to a prehistoric race is no doubt largely the result of the stupid teaching and belief that the Maori first came to New Zealand in a fleet of canoes of the fourteenth century, whereas it is quite clear from Maori traditional history that the race has occupied this country from very ancient times.' Regarding the Māori prosecution of massive earthworks, Stowell demanded to know how a writer could sit under the shadow of Mount Eden and One Tree Hill and still ask: 'Who were the people who displayed such industry and intelligence?' These debates highlight how part of the attraction of such theories, for the theosophist Wragge as much as for his 'New Age' revisionist successors, was the relegation of Māori – and in Wragge's case even of later 'Aryan' settlers – to a shallow historical foreground. Colonial newspapers delighted in reported stories under titles like 'Before the Maoris', inspired by Māori traditions of pale-skinned, fair-haired aborigines.

To deepen the investigation of the disjunction between prehistory and colonial modernity, and the ideological frameworks that supported this, we need to explore the culture of antiquarianism that emerged from the amateur scholarly milieu of historical and philosophical societies. Beginning in 1869, the _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ offered a national forum for the publication of scholarly research – most of which was originally presented within individual societies and institutes where, on occasion, members were privileged to inspect the artefacts under discussion. Case studies trace three individual appropriations of prehistory: one 'scientific', another 'connoisseurial', and the third 'aesthetic'. Julius von Haast, already encountered as the principal commissioner of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, was the founder of Canterbury Museum. A geologist who supervised the first stratified archaeological excavation in Polynesia, Haast considered himself an expert on the moa and its extinction at the hands of the prehistoric people he termed the 'moa-hunters', whom he identified as palaeolithic in distinction to the neolithic culture of the Māori. Influenced by prehistoric discoveries in Europe, and conveniently overlooking arte-factual evidence from his own excavations, Haast positioned his moa-hunters as impossibly remote and completely detached from the 'classic' Māori culture encountered by Europeans. Another type of engagement with prehistory – one that was equally in thrall to a theoretical shibboleth of the period – is evidenced by the Wellington collector Dr Alfred Kingcome Newman. Newman spurned the collection of 'decadent' modern artefacts in favour of what he considered truly rare antiquities, objects that in his view were revealing of the prehistoric Asiatic origins of the Māori race. Finally, there is the arrival of New Zealand's first 'ethnological' painter, Louis John Steele, whose imaginative re-creations of the ancient Māori world drew widespread praise from his contemporaries. Fine art's relationship with colonial ethnology was a complex and mutually informing affair, whereby publications by savants were mined by artists in search of appropriate historical subjects. In turn, artists such as Steele were influential in shaping the visualisation of that world within the wider media of the time, demonstrating how Māori antiquity could be fashioned into a Pākehā commodity.

### **JULIUS VON HAAST AND THE MOA-HUNTERS**

In her 1904 essay on 'The Great Moa Controversy', Jessie Mackay unpacks the long-standing argument between 'traditionalists' and 'modernists' concerning the precise date at which these species of giant bird became extinct. While there was consensus that human intervention had led to the end of the _Dinornis_ , huge disagreement raged over the period in which this had occurred and whether, as modernists such as Walter Mantell asserted, Māori held responsibility for the extinction. Among the leading traditionalists was Julius von Haast (1824–1887), founder of the Canterbury Museum, whose collections were based on the gift of a huge cache of moa bones found at Glenmark in 1865. Not only did this treasure trove facilitate the spectacular moa displays that Haast mounted at a succession of international exhibitions, but it also permitted the international exchanges that enriched his museum's collections. This was a field in which Haast's expertise was crucial.

Daniel L. Mundy, _Skeletons of New Zealand Moas in Canterbury Museum_ , 25 October 1867, albumen photograph, 213 × 263 mm. SIR GEORGE GREY SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, AUCKLAND CITY LIBRARIES, 589-76

Haast's first address on 'Moas and Moa Hunters' was delivered on 1 March 1871 to the Philosophical Institute of Canterbury, another organisation he had founded and for which he was then serving as president. He contrasted nineteenth-century European archaeological research into the deep antiquity of human settlement on that continent – revealed by the coexistence of 'rude flint implements' and the bones of long-extinct animals – with the New Zealand situation, where a recently arrived race had been credited with exterminating the megafauna. Haast countered with his controversial notion that 'there is ample evidence that the palæolithic period, and with it a people most probably belonging to a different race from the present native inhabitants of these islands, had passed away together with the different _Dinornis_ species, long before the Maoris settled here'. Seduced in part by his reading of European prehistory, Haast also drew on first-hand archaeological inspection of a moa-hunters' encampment at the mouth of the Rakaia River, a lithographed map of which accompanied his publication. An important element in Haast's argument concerned the lack of polished stone implements, especially nephrite, in the possession of the moa-hunters. His conclusion was that a 'race of _Autochthones_ , probably of Polynesian origin, was co-temporaneous with the Moa, by whom the huge wingless birds were hunted and exterminated'. While crediting these people with 'a very low standard of civilization, using only rudely chipped stone implements', Haast nevertheless admitted that Māori – whose polished stone artefacts evinced a 'high state' of civilisation – must be 'their direct descendants'.

In late 1872 Haast undertook a seven-week stratigraphic excavation of Te Ana-o-Hineraki near Sumner, then known as Moa-bone Point Cave, with the aim of establishing local evidence for an evolutionary sequence within New Zealand's stone age – one that equated to the palaeolithic and neolithic stages identified in John Lubbock's influential 1865 text _Pre-historic Times, as Illustrated by Ancient Remains, and the Manners and Customs of Modern Savages_. Benefiting from financial sponsorship by local patrons and an acquiescent landowner, Haast employed two workmen at £2 per day to undertake a largely unsupervised dig. One of these workers was Alexander McKay, a young miner who had demonstrated intense interest in geological and archaeological matters. The workers excavated down from recent European detritus to the deposits of those whom Haast termed the 'shell-fish eaters', and below substantial levels of ash and dirt, to the moa-hunters' remains more than 2 metres below the surface. Despite his sporadic attendance at the dig, Haast himself witnessed the excavation of polished implements from these lower levels, items which contradicted his cultural diagnosis of palaeolithic. The excavated material went to the museum along with a report on the dig by Alexander McKay, where it languished – arguably because Haast's pet theory had been disproved.

The absence of any kind of publication concerned McKay, who found employment with the Geological Survey Department under James Hector at the Colonial Museum. Hector proposed McKay's membership to the Wellington Philosophical Society and encouraged his young colleague to publicly present the extended report he had written on the Moa-bone Point Cave excavations. McKay's modest paper, 'On the Identity of the Moa-hunters with the Present Maori Race', was presented to the society on 8 August 1874 and reported in the colonial press. Furious that a 'paid employee' had usurped his publication rights, Haast proceeded to detonate what evolved into New Zealand's most notorious scientific squabble. He hastily drew together his own report on the excavation, presented at a specially convened meeting of the Philosophical Institute and published as 'Researches and Excavations carried on in and near the Moa-bone Point Cave, Sumner Road, in the Year 1872'. Haast emphasised the great antiquity of the deposits while conceding that the moa-hunters had possessed both 'polished and unpolished stone implements'. In explanation of the relative dearth of polished tools found at the moa-hunters' kitchen middens, McKay had plausibly surmised that sharp flakes of flint would have been more effective in dismembering a fallen moa than a stone hatchet or polished mere. Nevertheless, by insisting on the presence of polished implements in other areas of the dig, McKay successfully undermined one of Haast's fundamental tenets regarding a supposedly ancient 'autochthone' race that had exterminated the moa.

Haast's report took care to document a controversial aspect of the excavation that McKay had avoided mentioning, namely the discovery of a skeleton that he alleged 'had been buried a considerable time'. Haast nevertheless recorded that the body was tied together with flax, and that '[o]wing to the antiseptic properties of the sand, there were still some ligaments and skin upon the bones, and some hair upon the skull' – all of which pointed to a recent burial, as opposed to one from moa-hunting antiquity. Without reference to the police or any other authority, the body was swiftly removed for preparation as a museum specimen.

The skeleton which has been articulated by Mr. F. Fuller, and now stands in the Canterbury Museum, belongs to a man of a height of nearly 6 feet, past manhood. The ulna of the left arm is broken, and was only partially healed when the man died.

Haast's intellectual opponent Walter Mantell took advantage of parliamentary privilege to introduce a question into the Legislative Council concerning the absence of any inquest into the body found at the Moa-bone Point Cave. Drawing on McKay's notes, Mantell described the skin that covered the skeleton, and the surviving stomach contents that Dr Barker had determined to comprise fern root. As Mantell acerbically noted: 'So strongly were the discoverers impressed with the apprehension of being interfered with by the Police, that the skeleton was removed as secretly or quietly as possible to the Christchurch Museum, where it was macerated for three months before it could be made into a prehistoric skeleton, and before, in fact, it could be qualified to explain the early history of the Colony.'

Haast next turned his attention to the prehistoric paintings that survived precariously on rock shelters in Canterbury and Otago, which he initially considered to be works by the moa-hunters of remote antiquity. Run-holder Alexander Lean drew Haast's attention to a site near the Weka Pass Road, where he was 'very much struck with their peculiar character and their state of partial preservation, from which their great age could be inferred'. Haast employed his friend Thomas Selby Cousins, a prominent Canterbury artist, to make careful drawings to accompany his 1877 presidential address to the Philosophical Institute of Canterbury, when he showed the 'original copies of the paintings . . . on a scale of from six inches to one inch to the foot, according to their size, as well as a general view of the whole on the uniform scale of one inch to the foot'. Cousins' general view – reportedly at 1:46 scale – again illustrated Haast's essay on 'Ancient Rock Paintings in New Zealand' when it appeared two years later in the _Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland_.

Alfred Charles Barker, _Moa Skeleton Display, New Zealand Room, Canterbury Museum_ , 1870, gelatin silver photograph from collodion glass negative, 213 × 163 mm. CANTERBURY MUSEUM, 19XX.2.5069

Cousins' drawings, which are preserved in the collections of the Canterbury Museum, are important early contributions to the documentation of mysterious art forms that would continue to generate conflicting theories concerning their origins. The existence of the works had been known to very few and the first published pictorial records of the South Island rock art had accompanied a lecture on the 'Moa' by Haast's nemesis Walter Mantell, delivered at one of the earliest meetings of the New Zealand Institute in 1868. To accompany the reproduction of a watercolour documenting several paintings from the Takiroa Caves – lithographed in red to approximate the red ochre of the originals – John Buchanan produced a lithograph of the cave (or more properly, the rock promontory) drawn by Mantell, the scale of which was signified by a pair of antiquarian visitors, one of whom appears to be undertaking excavation.

Thomas Selby Cousins, _Ancient Rock Paintings, Weka Pass Range near Waikari_ , photolithograph, 233 × 760 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 10, 1878, following p. 52. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Mantell titled his red-ochre designs _Ngatimamoe Paintings, Takiroa Caves_ , indicating his belief that they were of relatively recent origin and executed by Ngāti Māmoe, the tribe that was displaced and absorbed by Ngāi Tahu. Haast dismissed the idea of Māori authorship, citing the investigations of his friend, the Rev. James W. Stack, who could find no extant knowledge on the part of Matiaha Tira Mōrehu, the Moeraki chief he considered 'the best living authority on Maori traditions in the South Island'. However, instead of relegating the rock art to entirely pre-Māori origins, Haast fancied that 'the smaller figures resemble the letters of some Oriental languages' akin to the Tamil inscription on the famous bronze bell – supposedly spoil from an ancient shipwreck of Eastern provenance – which was then in the possession of William Colenso of Napier. Haast speculated on the existence of other objects 'secured from the same or another similar wreck amongst which pictures of animals and adventures of human life with writing below them, were obtained, and which afterwards were copied after a fashion by the autochthones of New Zealand'. He then floated an even more exotic explanation: 'might I even suggest that one or more of the wrecked mariners of Indian origin were saved, and that they accompanied as slaves, the ancient inhabitants of this island on their journeys, during which these paintings were executed by them?' Regardless of such wild speculations, valuable insights resulted from Haast's sensitivity to stratigraphic evidence, such as when he distinguished between the relative antiquity of the various drawings, noting among the red drawings the faint presence of still earlier figures. Of the black figures, some of which Cousins had copied, Haast noted '[t]hey are of a more primitive nature and seem to have been done by a different race of men'. One of Haast's more absurd arguments against the recent production of the rock art was 'that none of these paintings are indecent, which is so characteristic of all Maori carvings and paintings of the human figure'.

W. B. D. Mantell, _Ngatimamoe Paintings, Takiroa Caves_ , photo-lithograph, printed in red ink, 148 × 230 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 1, 1869, following p. 18. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

John Buchanan after W. B. D. Mantell, _Takiroa Caves, Looking North to Punaamokatore across the Rise_ , photolithograph, 230 × 148 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 1, 1869, following p. 18. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Whereas Mantell depicted non-Māori antiquarian visitors to the Takiroa Caves site, in 1876 Cousins developed his on-the-spot sketches into a historicising oil painting that imagined an indigenous family group gathered at the ancient art gallery. _Maori Rock Drawings in the Weka Pass, North Canterbury_ (Alexander Turnbull Library) may be imaginary in another sense as well, in that the depicted rock paintings do not correspond to any of the examples documented in Cousins' scale drawing of the Weka Pass site. This painting may be the work titled _Ancient Rock Paintings_ that appeared in the Maori Court at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition and, rather than the Weka Pass as such, was perhaps intended as a generic depiction of Haast's prehistoric artists – minus the imaginary Tamil slaves. Given that Cousins renders the depiction of a recognisable carved canoe, which has hooked an impressively large fish, it may be that the artist is intending his painting to assert a view that these were relatively recent works of art executed by the direct ancestors of the present Māori population. By creating a vividly realised depiction of Māori prehistory, Cousins makes an early contribution to the historicising pictorial tradition that emerged in the 1880s and 1890s.

In 1873 Haast acquired a sizeable Māori house called Hau-te-ana-nui-o-Tangaroa – wind from the great cave of Tangaroa – that had been carved by Hōne Taahu of Ngāti Porou for the chief Hēnare Pōtae. Its sale to the Canterbury Museum for £250 had been brokered by Samuel Locke, a Native Commissioner in Napier, who arranged for Hōne Taahu and Tāmati Ngākaho to travel to Christchurch and spend most of 1874 completing and erecting the house. While a primary purpose of the Maori House (or Maori Room) was to serve as a display space for Māori culture, presenting an evolutionary sequence from the moa-hunters to the classic phase that represented the pinnacle of Māori culture, it would inevitably serve – like Te Hau-ki-Tūranga in the Colonial Museum – as a venue for special activities. At the crowded Conversazione held in association with the opening of the new museum building in June 1877, when an enormous temporary art exhibition vied with scientific displays and experiments, the Maori House hosted displays 'of such a nature as would years ago, have killed with fright any properly educated Maori, for he certainly would have imagined that the whole of his deities had conspired to effect his utter confusion and overthrow'. The multi-media display was the initiative of the architect Samuel Hurst Seager, who had 'begged, borrowed, or stolen' instruments that enabled him to display a 'History of the Magic Lantern from the year 1260 to the present time'. Despite being located within the Maori House, the visual display was relentlessly European: 'On a large screen which had been erected, Mr Seager exhibited a choice series of photographic slides, the property of Professor Bickerton, the subjects being home and foreign scenery, and celebrated statuary.'

Thomas Selby Cousins, _Maori Rock Drawings in the Weka Pass, North Canterbury_ , 1876, oil on canvas, 378 × 863 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, G-391

In an incisive analysis of the 'Sumner Cave Controversy', in which he diagnoses a division between colonial humanitarians and scientific racists, historian Francis Reid relates the nineteenth-century enthusiasm for Māori prehistory to the search for identity on the part of Pākehā settlers. Questions such as 'When did Māori arrive?', 'Where did they come from?' and 'Were they the first inhabitants?' were all concerned with defining the people whom the settlers were replacing. As Reid observes:

_Maori Room_ , photolitho-graphs, 135 × 210 mm, _Guide to the Collections of the Canterbury Museum, Christchurch, New Zealand_ , 3rd edition, Christchurch: T. E. Fraser, 1906, opposite pp. 202, 203. PHOTOGRAPHS COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

The answers to such questions could provide colonists with justifications for the colonial project: alienating Maori from their land appeared more morally acceptable if it was asserted that Maori had not been in New Zealand for very long, or if it was argued that Maori themselves had displaced a pre-Maori population.

Archaeological research into Māori antiquity in the country necessarily incorporated attitudes towards contemporary Māori. Though he acknowledges the assistance of the two carvers, Taahu and Ngākaho, in his essay on the Sumner Cave findings, Haast seems otherwise to have had few direct dealings with Māori. Sometimes these transactions were fraught, as when complaints were voiced regarding the museum's exhibition of a preserved Māori head. Haast's response in this case was merely to cover rather than to remove the exhibit. More than any other single factor, it is the widespread collection and display of crania and other human remains – including within the Maori House – that helps to explain the absence of Māori 'partnership' within the ethnological culture established by Haast at the Canterbury Museum.

### **DOCTOR NEWMAN'S SHOW AND TELL**

In distinction to Haast, who collected Māori objects directly from archaeological deposits that were coeval with the long-extinct giant bird species known as the moa, the amateur collector Alfred Kingcome Newman (1849–1924) fantasised pre-European provenances for his trophies while he toyed with the metaphorical fossils of language and ritual. Yet, like Haast, Newman remained almost completely detached from contemporary Māori life and culture, which he regarded as decadent. He also stayed aloof from the local and international exhibitions that provide valuable evidence of the identities of collectors and the nature of their collections. A medical doctor who transitioned into a successful merchant and local and national politician, Newman belongs to a more reclusive type of collector. Nevertheless, by choosing to present his trophies in a performative fashion within the socially elevated context of the Philosophical Society, Newman allows an insight not only into the objects he collected, but also into his notions of the prehistoric world from whence they came.

_Calabash with Carved Mouthpiece_ , photolithograph, 215 × 135 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 36, 1904, plate 1. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

An active member of the Wellington Philosophical Society, Newman served twice as president of this elite club. In February 1880 his valedictory presidential address concerned 'New Zealand, from a Physician's Point of View', in which he outlined 'the difference in the diseases suffered by civilized and savage races of man'. His most notorious contribution to the New Zealand Institute's _Transactions_ , referenced subsequently by every writer on scientific racism in New Zealand, was the 1882 essay 'A Study of the Causes Leading to the Extinction of the Maori', in which Newman characterised Māori as a degenerate race that was dying out long before European arrival – an extreme example of the discursive mode that Patrick Brantlinger has termed 'proleptic elegy'. Newman concluded that: 'Taking all things into consideration, the disappearance of the race is scarcely subject for much regret. They are dying out in a quick, easy way, and are being supplanted by a superior race.' Historian John Stenhouse has pointed to dissenting views in the audience for Newman's paper, but Newman was undoubtedly voicing a widespread colonial desire – that the 'Maori problem', namely the problem of access to land and resources still under Māori control, might be solved through a convenient disappearance of the original owners.

Having neatly dispatched the degraded contemporary representatives of the race, Newman turned his attention to the collection of their prehistoric relics. Despite evidence that his collecting activities commenced in the early 1880s, and notwithstanding the close ties he enjoyed with other collectors, including Walter Buller and Gilbert Mair, it is noteworthy that Newman spurned the exhibitions in which his friends garnered considerable fame for their ethnological collections. Instead, late in his collecting career, he used the Wellington Philosophical Society as a platform from which to profile a number of the oldest and rarest items in his possession, in addresses that were published – usually in tandem with photographs of the objects – in the Institute's _Transactions_. The first was delivered in November 1903, 'Notes on Two Maori Calabashes, with Carved Wooden Necks called _Tuki_ or _Ko-ano-ano_ ', in which Newman revealed that he had recently purchased the rare vessels:

My pair were discovered lying neglected in a Maori outhouse in the Wairarapa. They belonged to a Maori who said they belonged to his grandfather, and are believed to be a hundred years old. This is probably true, for the making of such articles has long been abandoned, and the few now existing show marked signs of age.

_Mouthpiece of Calabash_ , photo lithograph, 135 × 215 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 36, 1904, plate 2. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

He revealed that he had seen ancient examples at Tokaanu, 'shown to me by their owner, a great _rangatira_ , and [they] were among his choicest possessions, and clearly he was extremely proud of them'. Newman emphasised the exceeding rarity of the calabashes, which, according to Mair, were now obsolete: 'kerosene-tins do as well and are less trouble to get'. Few surviving examples possessed 'tuki', the ancient carved necks found on Newman's specimens, and he stressed that this sense of the word was not even recorded in the standard dictionaries. Rarity and antiquity remained the twin foci of Newman's connoisseurship.

In November of 1904 Newman exhibited two Māori freshwater mussel dredges: one a supposedly ancient specimen embellished with carvings, the other a more modern, workaday example complete with the net necessary to collect the shellfish. He opened his talk by commenting on the paucity of collecting opportunities offered by contemporary New Zealand, where 'curio-hunters have bought so largely that the Maoris themselves retain scarcely any of these old works, and to-day, at the close of 1904, the only chance for a new collector is to ransack European shops, and occasionally buy from a European collector'. Nevertheless, Newman's claim that the rou kākahi, or mussel dredge, was 'amongst the rarest of their works of art' is undermined by his listing of known examples that include 'two in a shop':

I got one about two months ago, and, strange to say, another about a week later. There is one in the British Museum figured in Partington's book, one in the Christchurch Museum, and two in the Auckland Museum; there are two in a shop, and Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Turnbull, in their fine collections, have one each; the Wellington Museum also owns one: making the total number, including mine, eleven. Of course there are others, but nevertheless they are rare.

_Maori Dredge_ [modern] and _Maori Dredge_ [ancient], photolithographs, 135 × 215 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 37, 1905, plates 1 and 2. PHOTOGRAPHS COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Both dredges appeared as photographic illustrations in the _Transactions and Proceedings_ published in 1905, thereby fulfilling Newman's intention that they should enter the scientific record: 'because all ancient Maori works tend to become fewer, and, as some will perish altogether, it is well they should, ere too late, be photographed and described'. This was the period in which photographic reproduction superseded the lithographic plates that accompanied nineteenth-century contributions to the _Transactions_.

At the August 1905 meeting, he profiled further extraordinary acquisitions. Up first was a carved poupou, a sizeable panel in the sinuous Ngāti Whātua style, which had been excavated by a farmer from a field near Auckland. Newman hailed it as a 'quaint figure of a Maori god of eels . . . a relic of the Stone Age, having been cut by stone chisels, and in its style and character is striking proof of the excellent work done by the prehistoric Maori carver'. From Newman's perspective, its merit lay in the fact that it was unique; it was, he maintained, 'the only figure of an eel-god in existence in New Zealand'. Despite the many religious rites connected with eels and eel-fishing, he further surmises from the rarity of such carvings that these mythological figures were seldom depicted. He claimed that his work was a depiction of 'Tinirau, god of fishes, [who] was described as being a merman – "half man, half fish"; and this figure of an eel-god is embodied in this figure – half a god and half an eel'.

_Maori Eel-God_ , photolithograph, 215 × 135 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 38, 1906, plate 60. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Next on to the stage came an ancient pūkāea, or signalling trumpet, 5 feet in length. 'They were always extremely rare', Newman announced, 'and only a few exist in museums'. Without further ado, he introduced Mr W. H. Warren, 'an expert bugle-player and accomplished musician', who proceeded to play a number of British and other army bugle-calls on an instrument 'fashioned by savages'. The challenges facing Warren were immense, for the mouthpiece of the trumpet was a 'long, wide slit' – very rough on the lips and completely unlike that of a modern silver bugle. Warren, who surmised that it was made for a 'wide-mouthed 17-stone Maori', had spent time living with the instrument before finally mastering it. The rationale behind this bizarre entertainment resided in the _function_ of the instrument; Newman recognised that the pūkāea was used for the same signalling purposes as the bugle. That Warren could extract four notes, and play recognisable tunes, contrasted with the 'uncouth braying' sound recorded by the naturalist Forster on Cook's second voyage. For Newman, the difference went beyond the fact that 'Mr. Warren knows the tunes and the Maori did not'; the exercise pointed to the degeneration characteristic of a dying race:

From W. H. Warren, 'Notes on Dr. Newman's Maori Trumpet', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 38, 1906, p. 138. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Much of Maori art and Maori carving is simply a degradation of a higher past. Their ancestors in far past days invented this instrument, and doubtless could play it for all that it was capable of; but their descendants forgot their ancient musical lore, and as time rolled on their knowledge shrank and shrank, till it was, as Forster writes, always the same note – an uncouth braying. The Maoris in Forster's day could not produce the varied notes that were lying dormant.

Newman traces the ancestry of the pūkāea to remote India, locating in Edward Tregear's _The Aryan Maori_ (1885) a quotation from the _Bhagavad Gita_ that describes 'a great trumpet called _paundra_ '. In a fantastical conclusion, he imagines that the bugle-calls of ancient India – though blown thousands of years earlier – must have sounded much the same as those played by Warren: '[T]he old Indian chief, the Maori _rangatira_ , and Mr. Warren are, after all, blood relations, for the Hindoos, the Polynesians (including the Maori), and Mr. Warren are all three Caucasians, all three have trumpets, and all three use the same instrument for the same purposes.'

Newman became increasingly obsessed with uncovering the Indian origins of the Māori race, a preoccupation that culminated in a wildly undisciplined treatise, _Who Are the Maoris?_ (1912). He seized on and exaggerated a then fashionable, assimilationist notion that Māori were Aryan – literally 'brown brothers' to the European colonisers. Newman dedicated his book 'to my friend, Mr. Percy Smith, the author of "Hawaiki"', additionally citing the generous advice and help offered by '[t]hree great authorities on the Maori, Messrs Tregear, Elsdon Best, and Hamilton'. Given such fulsome thanks, how could the august members of the Polynesian Society complain if a protégé had carried their tentative theories to absurd conclusions? Beyond the entrancing parallelism of place-names, which seemingly facilitated the endless discovery of original homelands, Newman placed great faith in religion – 'ancient prayers and sacred carvings [that] came from the ancient Fatherland' of India:

Maori religion is ancient – its practices, its sacred stories, its holy hymns, its sacred _karakia_ or spells, are thousands of years old – they will reveal to me somewhere their ancestry in Asia. _They shall be to me what fossils are to the geologist_.

The trouble was that Newman completely lacked the expertise to interpret such metaphorical fossils. Like many of his contemporaries, Newman assumed that Māori art was a static tradition, in which ancient prototypes had been slavishly copied over centuries or even millennia. Hence his fearless linking of Tibetan, Balinese and Māori art, and the racialised reading of Māori art seen in captions such as 'A tattooed Maori wooden idol of the Caucasian type' (opposite page 113) and 'A Maori wooden idol of the extreme Mongolic type' (opposite page 273). A polite review in the _Auckland Star_ noted that Newman was 'always interesting' and that 'his deductions are often plausible, if not quite convincing'.

Except for Māori vendors from whom he was removing some ancient relic, it would seem that Newman had minimal contact with the contemporary Māori world. His coveted objects were to be interpreted in the light, not of contaminated indigenous knowledge, but of incisive ethnological research such as his own. Like many collectors, Newman failed to make specific provision for the future of his treasures. The impressive assemblage of 157 items nevertheless remained intact and now resides in the Whanganui Regional Museum. It was Newman's son who sold the collection to Alfred and Helen Wall; they in turn donated it to the museum in honour of their only son, who drowned in May 1933 in the crater lake of Mount Ruapehu. That is why Newman's collection – comprising a number of the museum's most important taonga – is now known as the John Barnicoat Wall Memorial Collection.

### **LOUIS J. STEELE – ETHNOLOGICAL ARTIST**

As Leonard Bell revealed in an important chapter of _Colonial Constructs_ , it was in Auckland at the end of the nineteenth century that a history painting tradition emerged to fulfil Grey's injunction that artists should salvage the Māori past before it was too late. E. A. Mackechnie, a prominent lawyer who variously commanded the presidency of the Auckland Institute and Auckland Society of Arts, was an ardent proponent of such a tradition who floated some tantalising word pictures in the context of an 1885 illustrated lecture on 'Turner, the Colorist'. These included 'Surprised by a Taniwha' (a dark mass rises from a lake to terrify the crew of a canoe) and 'The Tattoo Pattern' (a young man inspects the design of his moko in a pool of water, while the nearby tohunga brandishes the tools of his trade). According to Mackechnie, this latter picture would, in addition to preserving a traditional custom, 'enable the artist to spread out a magnificent New Zealand landscape of river, hill, and wood'. Other, more sensational suggestions were 'The False Omen', 'The False Queen's Last Victim', 'Slaying the Makutu Man', 'The Reinga after a Battle' and 'The Land of the Tapu' – 'a scene of silence and desolation with every circumstance of ruin and decay, the whole enshrouded in a mysterious and awe-inspiring gloom'. What Mackechnie is envisaging here are contributions to a local history-painting tradition.

Through the 1880s Kennett Watkins worked hard to establish himself as a history painter, attempting to fulfil the nationalist criteria he laid down during his presidency of the Art Students' Association and achieving a modicum of success in the field of historical landscape. One of Watkins' critical triumphs was a large-scale canvas, _The Phantom Canoe, a Legend of Lake Tarawera_ (1888), that transposed Guide Sophia's account of the uncanny canoe sighting – which took place in misty daylight conditions – into a sublime, nocturnal setting. The massive volcanic eruption of 10 June 1886, which the phantom canoe supposedly presaged, was one of the deadliest natural disasters of New Zealand's historical era. When acquired by Henry Partridge for his Lindauer Art Gallery, the painting became the sole landscape shown in a Māori portrait gallery – one that included the famous Guide Sophia (Te Paea Hinerangi), in whose house many survivors had sheltered, as well as the feared tohunga Tūhoto Ariki, whom some locals believed responsible for the catastrophic eruption. With the exception of two later, large-scale works that dealt with the early migration from Hawaiki, Watkins eschewed 'prehistory' in favour of historicising landscapes, producing works that depicted the arrival of the first whalers at Russell, or the construction of the _Providence_ , the first European ship that was built in 1793. As a reviewer of the latter work noted: 'It is odd to think of the old sealers labouring in the dark stillness of Dusky Sound while Europe far away was convulsed with the Reign of Terror.' A number of other artists of the 1870s and 1880s – including J. C. Hoyte, Edwyn Temple, John Gully and W. M. Hodgkins – created historicising works that celebrated episodes from Cook's expeditions.

Kennett Watkins, _The Departure of Six Canoes for New Zealand from Rarotonga, A.D. 1350_ , 1906, oil on canvas, 1075 × 2140 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MR JOHN MARSHALL, 1914

Kennett Watkins, _The Legend of the Voyage to New Zealand_ , 1912, oil on canvas, 1321 × 2667 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MESSRS SAMUEL VAILE & SONS, 1914

Sir George Grey's vision, of an art capable of penetrating the shadows of the ancient Māori past, was finally realised by the English-born artist Louis John Steele (1842–1918). On his arrival in the colony in 1886, Steele set about establishing his credentials as both a portrait painter and an exponent of the august genre of history painting. His first excursion into the historical genre was a small-scale painting, _A Maori Legend from 'Te Rou'_ (1888), which received positive critical attention when it was shown in 1888 at the Auckland Society of Arts. The _Herald_ referred to it as a 'quaint' painting, 'illustrative of Maori life and scenes fast fading out of recollection':

A chief has been killed in battle, his head has been preserved, and placed on a pole in the runanga house. His affianced, whose reason had become unhinged, comes to the spot, and apostrophises the head of her dead lover. The painting is finished in that accuracy of detail so necessary in historical pictures. The tattooed head of the dead chief, the demented face of the unfortunate Maori maiden, the detail of the kiwi mat, and the carvings of the runanga house, are remarkably good.

Immersing himself in the existing literature on Māori themes, Steele selected his subject from a lurid novel by John White, _Te Rou, or the Maori at Home_ (1874). Billed as 'A Tale exhibiting the Social Life, Manners, Habits, and Customs of the Maori Race in New Zealand prior to the introduction of Civilization amongst them', White's novel presented a gory panorama of suffering, violence and remorseless revenge. In discussing Steele's painting, Leonard Bell posits it as 'primarily a fictional construct, not an ethnological record', pointing to White's obsession with savagery as 'a grossly distorted view of traditional Maori culture'. However, besides acknowledging Steele's canny recognition that a sensational subject would help to maximise popular and critical attention, there is the reality that 'fiction' and 'ethnology' were far from separate categories.

Locating a compelling literary source was a first step in the research involved in creating a convincing historical depiction. Just like European contemporaries such as Jean-Léon Gérôme and Lawrence Alma-Tadema, whose evocations of the ancient Greco-Roman world drew conviction from their engagement with the surviving material culture in museums and photographic archives, Steele turned his attention to the local materials that would support his quest to depict the Māori past. Perhaps the most important such resource was the Auckland Institute and Museum, where the Māori collection was arguably the best in the world. It was at the museum that he could study two preserved Māori heads, one of which would soon be travelling to Dunedin for Hocken's ambitious exhibit of 1889, and where he was able to inspect Māori textiles at close quarters. Similar items were exhibited and sold at 'curio' shops, including Sygvard Dannefærd's establishment on Queen Street and Eric Craig's Old Curiosity Shop, adjacent to the museum in Princes Street and the likely origin of many of Steele's Māori artefacts. Just as orientalising European artists took a professional interest in collecting oriental craft, so Steele's collecting of everyday Māori objects provided grist to the quest for authenticity. An all-important final ingredient was provided by photographic archives – particularly the extensive documentation of Māori artefacts and architecture by the likes of Alfred Burton and Josiah Martin, who marketed their work on the strength of its ethnological value.

Louis J. Steele, _A Maori Legend from 'Te Rou'_ , 1888, oil on canvas, 380 × 560 mm. REX NAN KIVELL COLLECTION, NATIONAL LIBRARY OF AUSTRALIA, NK820

Louis J. Steele and Kennett Watkins, _Arrival of Captain Cook; An Incident in the Bay of Islands, 29 November 1769_ , 1890, oil on cardboard, 545 × 421 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT IN MEMORY OF FRANK ANTHONY EDEN, 1988

Steele established a close working partnership with Kennett Watkins, then in charge of the Auckland Free School of Art that was based at the museum, which was signalled by collaboration on a work titled _Arrival of Captain Cook_ , reproduced in the Christmas 1890 issue of the _Auckland Weekly News_. Steele's history painting credentials supplied a solid backbone for an ambitious joint initiative: the founding in 1890 of an Auckland Academy of Art, supposedly along the lines of the Royal Academy in London and the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Like the Art Students' Association before it, the Auckland Academy of Art was intended to foster an overtly nationalistic school of art. The group's exhibitions were staged in the sizeable teaching studio that Watkins and Steele shared on the fourth floor of the Victoria Arcade, where the openings dispensed with the stuffiness typical of those of its rival, the Auckland Society of Arts. 'Perhaps there was a touch of Bohemia in the air which affected people', wrote the _Auckland Star_ columnist of the ebullient Conversazione of 28 April 1890: 'Mr Steele, the mercurial artist, was here, there and everywhere welcoming friends and being felicitated by everyone. Mr Watkins seemed almost as omnipresent.' Steele's originality and flair as a painter of Māori subjects was recognised in an ecstatic anonymous contribution to the _New Zealand Herald_ from 'A Lover of Art', apparently a fellow artist (or potentially even the mercurial Steele himself):

Each day troops of inquiring critics, business men, men of toil and men of leisure, ladies of all ages and classes, have entered the precincts of the Academy, and they have gone away one and all under the impression that they have seen, what I am convinced they never before had an opportunity of seeing, a few genuinely original and faithful pictures of Maori life, Maori sentiment, and Maori physique.

The writer was utterly convinced that Steele, a figure painter come to a new country, had grasped 'the character and leading features of its people'. He hoped that his current collaboration with landscape painter Kennett Watkins would continue to be fruitful, and 'that these pioneers of originality and truth shall live many years in our midst to depict, for the benefit of future generations, that fast-departing though magnificent race, the aboriginal inhabitants of Maoriland'. This clear enunciation of the purpose of the historicising tradition – the rescue of the Māori past on behalf of Pākehā successors – closely parallels Watkins' and others' pronouncements concerning the urgency of salvaging Māori artefacts for colonial descendants.

This enthusiastic commentator recognised that Steele's Māori portraits possessed 'historical' value in their own right. Following the lead of Gottfried Lindauer a decade earlier, Steele interspersed commissioned portraits of elite Pākehā settlers with speculative Māori portraits. Portraits of Mohi, described as 'the faithful henchman of the late Hon. W. Swainson, ex-Attorney-General', appeared in the 1890 and 1891 Academy exhibitions:

Mohi is dressed in a native mat, underneath which peeps a bit of old pakeha shirting. His hair is decorated with huia feathers. The background is taken from a _wharepuni_. The subject is deeply studied for the characteristics of the Maori type. The face is in repose, and bearing the melancholy expression peculiar to a large number of the Maori race. As to the flesh tints it would be difficult to excel them, and the detail is excellent. Altogether the portrait is a capital one, and Sir George Grey, who always took a great interest in Mohi's fortunes, and who has inspected the portrait, has expressed himself as highly pleased with it.

Already a seasoned model for Lindauer and Josiah Martin, as well as an occasional visitor to art exhibitions that included his portrait, Mohi Te-Ahi-a-Te-Ngū here serves both as a Māori celebrity – one who played important roles in the Pākehā world – _and_ as a typical representative of his race, 'deeply studied for the characteristics of the Maori type'. For Steele's young protégé Charles F. Goldie, who was serving as the secretary of the Academy while preparing for his Parisian education, these historicising portraits placed within distinctively Māori settings would prove an influential example.

The third Academy exhibition, staged in December 1892, publicly revealed a serious rupture in the relationship between Steele and Watkins. Not only was Steele's work absent from the 90-odd paintings on show, but it was rumoured that the artist would not deign to enter the building. Newspaper readers soon learned what Steele had been plotting:

Louis J. Steele, _A Maori Chief_ , 1890, oil on canvas, 505 × 400 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF JOHN MCIVER

A project has been mooted which, if carried out, would be of great interest to the colony. It is, that a commission, by public subscription, should be given to Mr. L. J. Steele, the well-known artist, to paint a historical picture of 'The Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi,' 20 × 10.

The gigantic work was to be exhibited in New Zealand's four main cities before presentation to the General Assembly. Subscriptions were to cost one guinea each, for which the subscriber would receive a photogravure of the picture that, according to one report, would be produced by the leading Parisian firm of Goupil & Co. Steele knew of the hugely successful reproductive print business operated by Goupil, and had conceived the ingenious idea of crowd-sourcing not only the funding of the work, but also the associated research. Though he already had a great deal of information about the signing and the leading actors, both Māori and European, 'he will be glad to receive any documents, daguerrotypes [sic], sketches, etc., from old settlers connected with that interesting historical episode, which will enable him to make the picture both realistic and artistic'. Henry T. Kemp, the son of a missionary whose earliest activity in the New Zealand civil service had been making copies of the Treaty for dispatch to Downing Street, took on the role of secretary, while the New Zealand Governor, Lord Glasgow, and the Governor of Fiji, Sir John Thurston, graciously agreed to act as patrons of the initiative.

Despite regular announcements and rumours about its progress – that work was beginning on a gigantic cartoon; that it might appear as the _Herald_ 's 'Christmas picture' for 1893 – there is a strong likelihood that it remained little more than a conceptual work-in-progress. Leonard Bell refers to the painting as a 'lost' work, as does doctoral researcher Jane Davidson-Ladd. Bell suggests it may have been destroyed in the parliamentary fire of 1907, but there is no independent evidence (that is, anything apart from Steele's announcements) that the painting was ever realised, let alone entered the General Assembly. What was it that stymied the realisation of the Treaty painting, seemingly preventing more than a version in pastel that fetched £3 at the sale of Steele's collection in 1917? Was it a lack of public interest, suggestive of the ideological tensions inherent in such an undertaking? Or was it the scale and complexity of the work itself, including the endless technical details supplied by 'old settlers', which crushed Steele's project? After all, if the artist really had developed such an ambitious work, where are the working drawings or painted sketches, of the type that Théodore Géricault produced over the year in which he developed his monumental _Raft of the Medusa_? Did such work end up on a bonfire, or was the _Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi_ only ever a phantom?

To resolve the situation, Steele refocused his attention on the ancient Māori past. After remaining aloof for several years, in early 1894 he renewed his membership of the Auckland Society of Arts and contributed a large-scale, unfinished painting to the March exhibition. _Tattooing in the Olden Time_ , depicting a tattooing operation in progress, was a popular and critical triumph. The _Auckland Star_ could not commend highly enough this latest offering from an artist who:

is among the very few in Auckland who seem to recognise the great worth of an interesting subject, as he is the first in point of merit among the few painters who seem to recognise the interest of Maori subjects. . . . The work is highly characteristic of New Zealand. It belongs to a class in which we have almost no pictures of any merit, and certainly not one of its merit. It should be kept for Auckland.

Whereas _A Maori Legend from 'Te Rou'_ had been placed within the gloom of an ancestral house, _Tattooing in the Olden Time_ is convincingly yet problematically set within the porch of a wharenui, or large carved house. Brilliantly depicted cloaks of various kinds, including a fetching kākā-feather number sported by the girlfriend of the tattooing victim, deliver a powerful reality effect. Even the Māori dog, whose fur fitted out so many chiefly cloaks, lends its cuteness to the historical _mise en scène_. A lengthy descriptive passage in the _Herald_ , blending description of the depicted artefacts with an anecdotal reading, suggests that visual story-telling and superlative handling contributed to the painting's triumphant success. While not immediately 'kept for Auckland', it was eventually acquired a century later by the Auckland Art Gallery.

Louis J. Steele, _Tattooing in the Olden Time_ , 1894, oil on canvas, 1185 × 1524 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, PURCHASED 1990

Rather than survey the entirety of Steele's ethnologically inspired works, which in any case represent only a subset of historical outputs that were equally concerned with colonial history, we will look closely at two paintings that achieved wide recognition in their own time and have subsequently defined Steele's position within New Zealand's art history. _The Arrival of the Maoris in New Zealand_ (1898) was a collaborative work undertaken with his former pupil, Charles F. Goldie, who had recently returned from almost five years' study in Paris. In 1898 Steele and Goldie opened a teaching studio they called the French Academy of Art, where in October 1899 they staged a joint exhibition. The principal work on show was a dramatic depiction of Polynesian immigrants sighting Aotearoa, the composition based on Théodore Géricault's famous painting, _The Raft of the Medusa_ (1818–19). The painting – destined to become New Zealand's best-known history painting – was the pair's submission to a competition mounted by the Auckland Society of Arts to fulfil the Helen Boyd Bequest of £200 for the purchase of an original work, on a New Zealand subject, by a New Zealand artist, for presentation to the Auckland Art Gallery. Carrying a price tag of precisely £200, and surrounded by a chorus of critical approval, its choice by the Boyd trustees was virtually inevitable. As the _Auckland Star_ enthused, '[i]n tragic intensity and supreme suffering, the picture is a wonderful conception, and it possesses a historical and dramatic interest, which seem to make it desirable that the picture should be acquired for the nation – that is, of course, for the colony'.

Charles F. Goldie and Louis J. Steele, _The Arrival of the Maoris in New Zealand_ , 1898, oil on canvas, 1380 × 2450 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, BEQUEST OF HELEN BOYD, 1899

It was the success of _The Arrival_ that simultaneously launched Goldie's stellar career and sundered his relationship with the irascible Steele, who was said to be jealous of the critical adulation heaped on his former pupil. Indeed, the precise nature of the collaboration between the artists remains mysterious; later accounts held that Goldie did most of the painting while Steele, a tall, thin man, posed for most of the male figures. Leonard Bell has written incisively of _The Arrival_ as 'a prime exemplification . . . of the manner in which aspects of Maori history and mythology could be absorbed into an emerging indigenous European culture'. He relates it to then current speculations on the 'Whence of the Maori', and cites the dismay of museum ethnologist David R. Simmons over its display of Māori culture:

Ethnologically . . . this painting is a disaster. The crew are shown as Polynesians with no tattoo, wearing tapa cloth, but they are sailing in a mixed up double Maori canoe of the eighteenth century using a sail form which probably never existed. So we have presumably fourteenth century Maori arriving in New Zealand in a canoe with eighteenth century carving and a notional construction.

Such 'ethnological' objections might equally be levelled at Steele's _Tattooing in the Olden Time_ , where a highly tapu surgical operation is in progress within a public space strewn with food remains, yet Pākehā critics and viewers of the period were convinced of its verisimilitude. Bell links the popularity of _The Arrival_ to an international vogue for paintings of disaster at sea, and a susceptible audience comprising European migrants and children of migrants who had undertaken their own hazardous voyages to reach the Promised Land. There was also the implicit message: Māori were themselves immigrants.

That Māori did not share the universal Pākehā enthusiasm for the painting was soon evident. As early as 1902, there was a report that 'Maoris who view the picture in the Art Gallery are indignant at the manner in which it is represented that the natives arrived in New Zealand'. Writing in the 1930s, George Graham told of widespread Māori contempt for the painting:

I have often accompanied elderly Maoris to view these pictures. Far from being appreciative, they always regard them with dubious feelings and disdain. To them they are mere creations of the pakeha mind and not consistent with the traditional records of the matters represented.

The Māori reception of museum and gallery exhibits has been largely overlooked in Pākehā art history. Contrasting so markedly with enthusiastic acclaim by Pākehā, the Māori response to _The Arrival_ is clear evidence that paintings can never be ideologically innocent portrayals of 'history'. Instead of adventure and hardship at sea, Māori viewers saw a desperate crew hurtling forward on a broken craft – the visual embodiment of the colonial discourse of the dying race.

The second work that has defined Steele's art-historical status is a small panel painting, _Spoils to the Victor_ (1908), which imagines a scene from ancient Māori warfare. It originated several years earlier as a commissioned illustration in the Christmas 1904 issue of the _New Zealand Graphic_ , where it carried the title _'Vae Victis!'_ ('Woe to the Vanquished'). 'After a victory amongst the old-time Maoris, the most beautiful maiden of the vanquished tribe, and the choicest mats, meres, taiahas, tewhatewhas, were reserved for the conquering chief.' Bell bluntly outlines its message:

Louis J. Steele, _Vae Victis!_ , photolithograph, 400 × 295 mm, _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1904, p. 19. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1556-19

The painting can be read as a symbol or expression of a European will to dominate Maori. The depicted figure is a metaphorical trophy. She is bound for Europeans. The Maori male in the painting is significantly dead, defeated – 'gashed, mute and limp', to cite a contemporary reviewer.

Despite the questions it raises – for example, around the puzzling rupture and incineration of a portion of the palisade – _Spoils to the Victor_ exhibits the academic panache that earned Steele his sobriquet, the 'Meissonier of Maoriland'. Apart from the nubile young woman, the victor's spoils include a cornucopia of fine cloaks and weapons that are heaped against the palisade. The painting could equally be regarded as an allegory of the voracious encyclopaedic collecting practices of the conquering Pākehā, whereby taonga Māori – the treasures of the vanquished – were recast as colonial antiquities and concentrated in the ethnological museum.

Archaeologist and museum curator Julius von Haast and connoisseurial amateur collector Alfred Newman – two leading figures in the world of museums and collecting – operated in relative isolation from the contemporary Māori world. The case of the artist Louis J. Steele, however, offers a significant point of difference. Firstly, his activity as a portrait painter working with living subjects meant that he was obliged to negotiate the terms of such portraiture. This might mean dealing with spontaneous interaction on the part of a wider Māori circle, as occurred during the sitting for a work shown at the second Academy show of 1891 that depicted 'Nga Kawhena, better known to fame as Johnny Coffin, a well-known Maori policeman of the Olden Time': 'While Mr. Steele was painting the portrait, a number of old Maori chiefs sat round, and at each touch of the brush in forming the tatooing [sic] they gave the characteristic exclamation of surprise.' The implications of the face-to-face contact necessitated by painted and photographic portraiture will be explored in a later discussion of the contrasting business practices of Gottfried Lindauer and Charles F. Goldie.

Hēnare Kaihau and Louis J. Steele, _Flag of King Mahuta_ , 1894, photolithograph, 65 × 100 mm, James Cowan, _The Maori: Yesterday and To-day_ , 1930, p. 85. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

In terms of elite Māori patronage, Steele trumps all other artists with his commission in 1894 to execute a flag for the freshly anointed King Mahuta. Its appearance was first noted on 24 September at the European Reception Day of King Tāwhiao's tangi:

On the flagstaff were seven flags, containing various emblems, mostly red and white; the topmost one being King Mahuta's flag, containing sun, moon, rainbow, the Pleiades (Matariki), and the Tainui canoe, the titles of the King being set within the centre of the flag. This flag was the idea of Henare Kaihau, and designed by Mr. L. J. Steele, of Auckland.

At first glance, the choice of Steele as the designer of the new king's flag seems an extraordinary one – the painter of 'quaint' or 'savage' old-time Māori life entrusted with producing an enormous, symbolically charged representation of the expressly anti-colonial Kīngitanga. It is the period of the commission that offers a significant clue. The publicity for the proposed _Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi_ appeared throughout 1893 and early 1894, when newspaper readers were informed not only that leading chiefs had subscribed to the fund (and presumably owned copies of the prospectus) but also that Māori generally were in favour of the project:

They regard the Treaty of Waitangi as their great protection in the possession of their lands and of their rights as a race, and they are prepared to assist in every way, especially the Napier natives, in perpetuating the memory of the treaty by this great historical painting.

Rather than to Steele, the 'Meissonier of Maoriland', the choice of flag designer went to Steele, the painter of the _Signing of the Treaty_. The 1880s and 1890s was a period that saw constant Māori agitation over the Treaty and its unfulfilled promises, countered by a corresponding indifference to the topic in the Pākehā world. It is therefore highly likely that an initiative to render the Treaty signing as a monumental painted tableau – one that was intended to be installed in the General Assembly – would command Māori respect and confer mana on the artist who proposed it.

Instead of dwelling on a treaty that everyone knew to be broken, Pākehā naturally preferred thrilling narratives of hardship at sea, or of necromancy conducted with smoked heads in mysterious settings. Such imagery fulfilled Sir George Grey's injunction for artists to penetrate the 'night of fearful gloom' and claim episodes of Māori prehistory for the repertoire of colonial art. According to Kennett Watkins, a leading arts educator of the period, to colonise the ancient Māori past for the benefit of modern art was to claim a 'patrimony' that belonged to all New Zealand artists. For the archaeologist and museum founder Julius von Haast, prehistory was the silent accretion of the ages within which artefacts and skeletons lay embedded; for a collector such as Dr Newman, prehistory resembled a dimly lit boutique from which his ancient relics mysteriously emerged. In summoning palaeolithic autochthones hunting moa, or trumpet-playing Aryan ancestors, such narratives revealed far more about their own fantasies and desires than any 'scientific' truth about the ancient Māori past. It is time now to look more closely at Māori–Pākehā interaction within the art and exhibiting milieux of this period, beginning with the proliferation of Māori portrait paintings and sculptures.

Augustus Hamilton, _Nelson Illingworth Modelling Hepi Kahotea Te Heuheu_ , 1908, gelatin silver photograph, 150 × 110 mm. ILLINGWORTH FAMILY PAPERS, SYDNEY; PHOTOGRAPH BY DANIEL SHIPP

## CHAPTER THREE

## _Portrait Galleries_

Ethnological idealisation – the evocation of a romantic past – is a central concern in the Māori portrait collections that accumulated in this period. One such collection was formed in Wellington by Augustus Hamilton, a curio-collecting educationalist who produced the first scholarly compendium of customary Māori art and thereby reinvented himself as New Zealand's first museum ethnologist. What were the motives that led Ngata and his political allies to sponsor Hamilton's endeavours, which ranged from lectures on the 'Old-Time Maori' to the full-scale re-creation of an 'ancient' Māori pā at the Christchurch International Exhibition of 1906–7? One of Hamilton's most impressive achievements in this arena was a collection of ethnological portrait busts produced by the itinerant sculptor Nelson Illingworth, intended for an ultimately unrealised National Maori Museum in Wellington. While the genesis and evolution of Illingworth's busts are revealing of Māori attitudes to portraiture, the busts themselves reveal a fascinating confrontation between ethnological idealisations and the innate realism of the portrait.

The later nineteenth century saw large numbers of life-sized oil portraits by Gottfried Lindauer and other artists commissioned by Māori clients, and this was also when Pākehā collectors such as Henry Partridge and Walter Buller assembled their own impressive compilations of Māori portraits. As already noted in the case of the Colonial and Indian Exhibition of 1886, such collections served colonial and ethnological as well as commemorative purposes – a complex multivalence that would become especially evident with the opening of Partridge's Lindauer Art Gallery in 1901. Were there significant differences between the portraits directly commissioned by Māori clients, on the one hand, and those acquired by Pākehā collectors, on the other? Or might the real differences be more functional than structural, depending on the varied uses made of the portraits?

After successfully launching his career with _The Arrival of the Maoris in New Zealand_ , Charles Frederick Goldie quickly developed the distinctive brand of hyper-realistic, nostalgic portrayals of mainly elderly Māori subjects through which he eventually secured an international reputation. Yet while Goldie's paintings soon acquired their almost invincible status as prized commodities in the art market, their standing as works of art has been less secure. Are they in fact significant portrayals of Māori ancestors, deserving of honour on the part of successive generations? Or, as many argue, might they instead be complicit with the pernicious colonial myth of the 'dying race', memorialising the passing of a conquered culture? Could they even be a unique variant of European orientalism, tailored for a colonial context, or are they merely academic dross? Alongside such pressing questions, this chapter will consider what might have been at stake for the elderly models whose collaboration was so crucial in the production of these works. Were these individuals merely the passive clothes-horses of postcolonial fantasy, nostalgically personifying the dying race for the benefit of colonial art history? Or might they have been willing participants within the gallery of ethnological art, with interests of their own to pursue?

### **AUGUSTUS HAMILTON AND THE VALHALLA OF THE MĀORI RACE**

During the winter of 1909, Āpirana Ngata and Peter Buck – the latter a recently elected young Māori parliamentarian and future internationally renowned anthropologist who also published under his Māori name, Te Rangi Hīroa – invited the director of the Dominion Museum, Augustus Hamilton, to deliver a series of ethnological lectures. The publicity asserted that Hamilton was 'recognised by the Maoris themselves as the leading European authority on Polynesian ethnology – a subject to which it is their desire not only that the pakeha should give attention, but one that they think should be made a university subject'. With Ngata occupying the chair, Hamilton's opening lecture on 'The Maori as He Was before Contact with our Civilisation' told of the Māori migrants of some five centuries earlier, who 'like most conquering peoples, concerned themselves very little about the traditions or records of those they found in possession'. According to Hamilton, this was an omission that the subsequent European conquerors would not emulate. Of Māori culture he had the highest praise, asserting that 'Maori art would have satisfied the canons of Ruskin [for] each work was an individual creation, constructed for use and not for the market, and its decoration showed beauty of line, symmetry, and artistic feeling'. The lecture was accompanied by lantern slides illustrating 'Maori portraits, villages, dwellings, implements, and works of art'.

The second lecture dealt with 'The Influence on the Maori by Civilisation', followed a week later by 'The Maori and Ethnology', when he explained 'How to Study the Maori'. He discussed the valiant work of the Polynesian Society, founded in Wellington in 1892 by a small band of enthusiasts and to date the publisher of seventeen volumes of original research. Hamilton contrasted the local context with the more favourable American situation, where a federally funded Bureau of Ethnology had amassed a quarter-century of investigations, and further informed the audience that the Germans were spending £10,000 a year on the teaching of ethnology. This was so, Hamilton explained, because such knowledge was politically advantageous: 'For the administrator a knowledge of ethnology was exceedingly useful as a guide in dealing with such primitive peoples as the British, especially in their vast Empire, were likely to meet.' Indeed, it was precisely such an awareness that was leading to the institutionalisation of anthropology within British universities and, a further decade on, in New Zealand.

Augustus Hamilton, _Clay Model of Nelson Illingworth's Bust of Augustus Hamilton_ , 1907, scan from dry-plate glass negative. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA, B.002119

Such were the varied motives inherent in the ethnological project. On one side, there was the Polynesian Society's obsession with the ethnological wreckage of colonisation, from which they hoped to salvage the intellectual and material remains of the Māori people. The group's urgent task, according to founder Stephenson Percy Smith, was to 'rescue from oblivion the fast-fading knowledge of the past among the natives of New Zealand and the South Seas' – that is, to effect a Pākehā colonisation of the ancient Polynesian past. On the other side, there were the Māori proponents of ethnology, including the veteran politician James Carroll, Āpirana Ngata and Peter Buck. Ngata and Buck's dynamic Young Maori Party advocated the establishment of Chairs of Polynesian Ethnology within New Zealand's university colleges and the introduction of Māori language and culture within the university syllabus. Despite his consistent opposition to the 'Museum' view of Māori – in which admiration was based solely on a 'noble and splendid past' – Ngata knew that a viable future for Māori demanded their participation in the representation of their culture.

The _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ offered a more specialist ethnological vehicle than the New Zealand Institute's _Transactions and Proceedings_ , in which Māori voices were more frequently heard. Ngata's famous uncle, Major Rāpata Wahawaha, MLC, numbered among the eminent corresponding members; Ngata himself joined the society as a 21-year-old in 1895 and his first contribution to the _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ appeared in 1897. It is therefore likely that Ngata at least glanced at an esoteric contribution from Dunedin member A. Hamilton in the 1895 journal – the first issue that he acquired. Hamilton's 'Notes on a Supposed Early Mention of New Zealand in a Geographical Treatise of the 12th Century' queried the veracity of an 1870 contribution to the _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_. However, the bulk of Hamilton's prolific periodical contributions appeared in the latter journal, of which he later became the editor, including an extensive listing of the literature pertaining to Māori issues. 'Hand-list of certain Papers relating more or less directly to the Maori race, and published in various Publications', though far from a 'proper and complete bibliography', usefully documents the numerous, yet widely scattered, sources he consulted during the preparation of his magisterial _Maori Art_ , published by the New Zealand Institute in five parts between 1896 and 1900. The first instalment in 1896 bore a longer title, _The Art Workmanship of the Maori Race in New Zealand_ , and stressed the inclusion of 'specially taken photographs'.

It was on the strength of his authorship of the ground-breaking book on Māori art, as well as the leading role he played in formulating the Maori Antiquities Act 1901, that Hamilton assumed the directorship of the Colonial Museum in 1903. He was the obvious candidate, not least because of the plan that he and Polynesian Society president S. Percy Smith had tabled, urging that a 'National Maori Museum' be established in Wellington 'for the preservation of the antiquities of the Polynesian race'. While the proposed museum failed to eventuate, the authors' plan offers fascinating evidence that portraiture was a central concern. At the threshold of the museum, Hamilton envisaged a '[s]quare hall, lighted from the top by a dome or lantern light, and having a light gallery round it at the level of the first floor':

This hall [is] to be used for portraits and memorials of noted persons of the Maori race, who would be represented by paintings, and, I hope, eventually by statuary. The full scheme provides for a specially lighted picture-gallery to be added at some future time for portraits and pictures of events in Maori history. The decoration of this hall would be a study in the application of Maori ornament to modern architecture.

What is noteworthy here is the explicit advocacy of an ethnological collection of colonial art to serve as a portal to the museum proper, while 'groups of Natives modelled in papier-maché [sic]' were intended to be stationed near the canoes – both tactics strongly echoing those of earlier exhibitions such as London's Colonial and Indian Exhibition of 1886 and the Paris Exposition Universelle of 1889. While actual Māori presence within the museum is merely suggested in an ambiguous final sentence – 'The _marae_ in front of the carved house should be kept clear as far as possible of supports so that the space might be available for photographic groups of Natives with a suitable background' – Hamilton elsewhere outlined the desirability of bilingual labelling of exhibits. In a separate document that Hamilton circulated to members of the Legislative Council and the House of Representatives, he referred to the museum as 'a common meeting ground for the two races', including those of mixed heritage, but also as 'a Valhalla for the Maori, a place in which the memories of their great ones can be enshrined and perpetuated'.

Māori support for the project was strongly signalled through the advocacy of the foremost Māori politician, James Carroll, as well as by evidence that leading chiefs regarded such a museum as a decisive asset for the benefit of Māori. In a letter to Hamilton, Carroll wrote:

. . . I have received innumerable letters from Maori chiefs in different parts of the country, all unanimously expressing their joy and gratification at the movement [for a Māori museum], so you will see our 'mahi' [work] is already commanding universal appreciation. From the Maori people I expect valuable contributions and assistance.

A supreme example of such Māori generosity was evidenced in a lengthy letter to Carroll from Ngāti Kahungunu chief Tamahau Mahupuku, who referred to the proposed museum as a 'preserving-chamber . . . [for] the new building-up and collecting-together of our ancient lore, our history, our treasures, our laws, our customs, our sacred rites, and everything that can be preserved of us as a people'. On behalf of Ngāti Hikawera and Ngāti Moe, Mahupuku offered the carved wharenui Tākitimu as a gift to the museum and a lengthy passage from his letter was included in Carroll's report. The gift of the house was to include the following:

its carved timbers, its laced worked sides, and all its furniture, together with the likenesses of the old chiefs which are contained within the said carved house – namely, Wereta te Kawekairangi, Hoera Whakatahakiterangi, Ngairo Takatakaputea, Heremaia Tamakitematangi, and Wiremu Hikawera Mahupaku [sic] – whose names are to be found in the deeds ceding lands to the Queen in former days.

By signalling that the ancestral portraits were integral to the house, Mahupuku reinforced Hamilton's scheme for a portrait gallery within the National Maori Museum. As an embellishment for the broader ancestral house represented by the proposed museum, especially one that was intended to be inclusive of all the tribes, an ethnological portrait collection chimed perfectly with current Māori practices involving portraiture.

An important driver of Hamilton's desire to assemble a representative Māori portrait collection was the example of the Lindauer Art Gallery in Queen Street, Auckland, a private initiative opened in June 1901 by the Pākehā businessman and collector Henry Partridge. This collection and the astonishingly vivid Māori reception of the gallery will soon be examined. Hamilton's attempt to acquire the collection was thwarted by Partridge quoting a 'fabulous price', according to the correspondence he opened in 1905 with Charles F. Goldie. Seeking the acquisition of portraits, Hamilton visited Goldie's studio over the summer, and in February 1906 received Goldie's offer to sell four works at 200 guineas apiece (or 'facsimiles of the originals in every respect' to cost 80 guineas each). That he was frustrated in these endeavours probably had to do with the exaggerated values placed on the works by Partridge and Goldie, but may additionally suggest waning support for the initiative on the part of Carroll, the minister in charge of the Colonial Museum. Hamilton enjoyed greater success in the direct patronage of artists such as the itinerant German painter Wilhelm Dittmer, who worked at the Colonial Museum in 1904. However, the most significant outcome of Hamilton's patronage was a government commission in 1908 for a series of compelling portrait busts from another itinerant artist, the British-trained, Australian-resident sculptor Nelson Illingworth.

### **NELSON ILLINGWORTH AND THE ANCIENT ETHNIC TYPE**

Nelson Illingworth, 'the Bohemian sculptor from Sydney-side', cut a dashing and newsworthy figure in early-twentieth-century Wellington. Attracted in 1906 by a lucrative competition for a memorial bust of the late premier, Richard John Seddon, Illingworth soon conceived the idea of a series of Māori portrait busts along the lines of the Australian Aboriginal busts he had already created. Speaking to a journalist, the publicity-savvy artist revealed the highly romantic, classicising lens through which his project of sculpting the Māori was conceived:

Two portraits of a Maori man and maiden which Mr Illingworth came across yesterday aroused his enthusiasm. The latter, he declared, had given him an idea for a figure study. He could imagine nothing grander. The Maori maiden's photograph, he said, was that of a veritable Venus de Medici – the most perfect figure he had yet seen. The male portrait was like that of an Apollo. If these were types of Maoris, the sooner they were painted and modelled the better. 'Surely,' he said, 'your nation would desire to perpetuate this type.'

Illingworth argued forcefully for a national art gallery in the capital city, adding: 'I myself would willingly contribute a bust, without cost, in order to start the gallery.'

Augustus Hamilton soon encountered the ebullient sculptor, whose ambitions meshed so perfectly with his own desire to realise sculptural as well as painted representations of Māori. Together they would negotiate the difficulties of a project that skirted a tense and essentially irresolvable contradiction, namely that between the realism of ethnographic portraiture – the presentation of an identifiable subject, recognisable to all – and the more abstract ethnological quest for a Māori racial 'type', an ideal that any single individual could only imperfectly inhabit. Just like the ethnological synthesis of a 'classic' Māori culture located in a frozen, idealised past before colonisation, the quest to preserve ethnic types is a response to Māori modernity and its associated cultural and racial transformations. Instead of maintaining an ancient 'purity', the increasingly mixed-race population pointed to adaptation and survival.

Illingworth had not counted on the Māori response to the sculptural quest for their ethnic essence. Some of the problems were documented in a fascinating early article subtitled 'A Sculptor's Trials: The Unappreciative Maori', in which the artist flatly concluded that '[t]he Maori of the old school does not care to live in bronze':

The Government is anxious to preserve his classic features for the admiration of posterity, but the Maori is not chasing immortality. To Mr. Nelson Illingworth was entrusted the important task of fixing in bronze the distinctive Maori facial characteristics, before they are effaced by civilised life and European intermarriage. Mr. Illingworth had scarcely entered on his work before he found it strewn with some peculiar difficulties.

The young Maori, no doubt, would rush the opportunity of gazing at himself in bronze, but the old Natives, from whom Mr Illingworth desired sittings, as coming closer to the historic racial types, had notions of their own upon the matter. An old lady who was told that it was desired to make a bust of her in bronze was horrified at the suggestion. She explained at last that if the bust was executed in her likeness, her spirit would most probably take refuge therein, where it would be confined perpetually. No arguments could persuade her to risk this fearful doom.

According to Illingworth, even when all objections appeared to be overcome, further difficulties arose. 'Appointments made for sittings were hardly ever kept, and as for punctuality, that was hopeless.' The history of Māori engagement with European portraiture reveals a spectrum of attitudes ranging from complete abhorrence to joyous acceptance, and European artists' tales of 'managing' Māori models offer revealing insights. Gradually, Illingworth learned that the field of ethnological portraiture carried its own challenges.

Augustus Hamilton, _Nelson Illingworth's Clay Model for the Bust of Patara Te Tuhi_ , 1908, gelatin silver photograph, 140 × 80 mm. ILLINGWORTH FAMILY PAPERS, SYDNEY; PHOTOGRAPH BY DANIEL SHIPP

Except for carved kauri-gum heads and the odd memorial statue, there was virtually no tradition of ethnographic sculpture in New Zealand. At Hamilton's instigation, James McDonald of the Colonial Museum produced an idealised, fully tattooed male mannequin to serve within the Māori display, and in late 1906 McDonald created a monumental Māori group in painted plaster as a centrepiece for the Christchurch International Exhibition. What Hamilton and Illingworth now envisaged was a body of work in _real_ bronze, a magnificent gallery of sculpted portraits for the proposed pantheon of the Māori race. With support from government superiors, the £500 commission for ten busts was confirmed early in 1908, but – like McDonald's ephemeral work – was destined to remain in the form of highly vulnerable painted plasters. Illingworth was skilled at casting, having trained in London at the Lambeth School of Art before a period working for the Royal Doulton pottery. His working procedure – initial 'sketching' in clay, leading to a final clay model and, by means of a plaster mould, one or more final plasters – was perfectly adapted to subsequent transformation into bronze. But in the absence of colonial bronze foundries, sculptors were obliged to send work 'Home' for casting, and it is likely that neither Illingworth nor Hamilton had any real idea of how complex or costly it would be to realise such sculptures in bronze.

The first sitter to be secured for the series was Pātara Te Tuhi, whose unusually complete facial tattoo made him an especially desirable candidate. Illingworth wrote to his lover in Sydney that he was going to try to make a mask of the chief's face, commenting: 'I wonder how the old boy will like plaster put on him?' Under the scrutiny of the chief's family, who fearlessly criticised the sculptor's first rough sketch in clay, Illingworth also made a clay impression of Pātara's moko. He explained that this was because, while paintings represented Māori tattoo as 'perfectly regular in appearance and depth', in fact it was highly irregular. Back in Wellington, Illingworth faced the challenge of transforming the rough sketch into his first Māori bust:

The features of Patara Te Tuhi will not be reproduced exactly. The object of the sculptor is to perpetuate an ancient Maori type, and if Te Tuhi's features have departed at any point from the ancestral pattern, the sculptor will conform them in his model to the old ideal.

Nelson Illingworth, _Bust of Patara Te Tuhi_ , 1908, painted plaster, 600 × 500 × 350 mm. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA; PHOTOGRAPH BY ROBERT CROSS, IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Exactly who might be qualified to judge such deviations is a moot question, as is the precise nature of the ideal to be sought. Illingworth informed another journalist that, although he had modified Pātara's features, the _measurements_ of the old man's head were reproduced exactly. And, to his utter astonishment, Illingworth found that it conformed to 'the classic head of Julius Caesar, well known to sculptors as the model head for intellectual development'.

This is where one 'ideal' – that of the ethnic 'type' – intertwines with other modes of idealisation. The genre in which the portraits were to be realised was the classical bust, derived from Roman prototypes, but with togas replaced by Māori cloaks. Not only did Julius Caesar possess a bald pate like Pātara, but Caesar served as an intellectual 'type' within the culture of phrenology, itself an early phase of physical anthropology. It is not surprising, therefore, that Illingworth should make such a 'discovery'. Something similar happened when he sculpted the bust of a younger man, Hepi Kahotea Te Heuheu, whose modelling sessions were conducted in the workroom at the museum. Hepi's father, the hereditary paramount chief of Ngāti Tūwharetoa, served on the Legislative Council and was a close associate and supporter of the museum. Scrutinising his latest bust, Illingworth detected another startling analogy:

Mr Heuheu is not a specially large Native, but he has the only head which Mr Illingworth has ever met with which shows the abnormally large measurements of Napoleon Bonaparte's. Napoleon was a small man, with an immense head, the breadth from cheek to cheek being specially remarkable. Mr Illingworth has a cast of Bonaparte's head, and this particular measurement is equalled by Mr Heuheu within an eighth of an inch.

Nelson Illingworth, _Bust of Wikitoria Taitoko Keepa_ , 1908, painted plaster, 650 × 560 × 320 mm. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA; PHOTOGRAPH BY ROBERT CROSS, IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Nelson Illingworth, _Bust of Tupai_ , 1908, painted plaster, 710 × 495 × 285 mm. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA; PHOTOGRAPH BY ROBERT CROSS, IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Antonio Canova's bust of Napoleon was a favourite of phrenologists and artists alike and a cast of the sculpture occupied pride of place in Goldie's Shortland Street studio, where it was doubtless inspected with great interest by Pātara and other Māori visitors. These examples demonstrate the effortless, indeed inevitable, co-existence of classicising and ethnological idealisations.

Despite Illingworth's claim that he 'went forth into the wilderness' to discover Pātara Te Tuhi, the latter resided in the Auckland suburb of Māngere and was already a seasoned model for Goldie as well as a range of photographers. In Whanganui, Illingworth secured sittings from Wikitōria Taitoko Keepa – also a veteran of photographic and painted portraiture. It was in the true 'wilderness' that Hamilton was confronted by a significant breach between the ethnological quest for ancient Māori 'types' and Māori notions of appropriate portraiture:

In the wilds of the North Island, amongst the members of the Arawa tribe, there lives a Maori whose face in bygone days might have been his fortune, if it had not carried with it conditions that the owner is pleased were not fulfilled. Mr Hamilton saw the man when he was looking for good 'subjects' for Mr Nelson Illingworth, the sculptor, and was struck with the exceptionally elaborate tattooing on his cheeks, nose and forehead. Mr Hamilton at once selected him as a type of the ancient Maori. The members of the tribe, however, said that he was a 'nobody,' and did not deserve the honour of sculpture. They explained that he had been a slave, and that his face had been splendidly tattooed in order that his head could be sold at a great price in the days when traffic in dried heads was a lucrative calling for the chiefs and notables. The man evidently circumvented the commercial instincts of his masters until the gruesome traffic was abolished, and after that, of course, his face was no longer a menace to his head.

For this Māori community, sculptural commemoration was inappropriate in the case of an individual whose moko was purely decorative and whose life history had entailed such a disastrous loss of personal mana.

Among the last of the busts to be completed was _Tupai_ , unveiled at McGregor Wright's Lambton Quay gallery in November 1908 and embodying an even more complicated relationship with idealisation. Ostensibly depicting the famed Tūpai-whakarongo-wānanga, a tohunga on the ancestral migration canoe _Tākitimu_ , _Tupai_ represented a significant shift in approach that was presumably engineered by Hamilton. As the abstracted ideal of an ancestral type, _Tupai_ delighted the critic of the _New Zealand Times_ , who called it the sculptor's 'masterpiece' and 'worthy of national consideration'. Unlike the earlier busts in the series, all of which are identified representations of living individuals, _Tupai_ was Illingworth's 'ideal of the "father of the Maoris" who led the people from Hawaiki in the early days. From this person, the greatest of Maori celebrities, the genius of the Maori originated . . .' In other words, Tūpai was the very progenitor of the elusive 'type' for which Hamilton and Illingworth had been searching:

Tupai's bronzed image shows the wonderfully tattooed face of a man who could not help being great, whatever colour nature had made him. The head is of the type known to moderns as Celtic – a high tapering forehead receding notably, without detracting from the virility and dignity of the countenance.

In deterministically phrenological fashion, the writer enumerates each of Tūpai's splendid features: 'the powerful nose of the large, curved and fleshy type, indicative everywhere of authority, genius and initiative . . . the chin that of a man of high sentiment, daring, and bravery'.

Despite the historicising coiffure and the complete facial moko, _Tupai_ is nevertheless convincing as the representation of an elderly Māori man. In his history of New Zealand sculpture, the only extended commentary on Illingworth's work by a New Zealand art historian, Michael Dunn singles out _Tupai_ as exceptional among the finished busts:

[W]hile most of them are appropriately displayed as museum exhibits, at least one, _Tupai_ , is modelled with authority. The stern, proud head is set firmly upon a powerful, muscular pair of shoulders suggestive of physical strength and prowess as a warrior. In this case Illingworth avoided the clutter of native costume and ornaments that too often distracted attention from the head.

But how could _Tupai_ have been 'modelled with authority' if, in distinction to the earlier busts, this was an entirely idealised representation – an abstracted _type_ rather than an individual, which was serving a higher purpose than straightforward portraiture? When later offering the Sydney Art Gallery a replica of what he inaccurately termed the 'chief of the ancient Arawa tribe', Illingworth explained that the bust was modelled from 'word pictures by the old natives of "Tupai" and the best obtainable models of the pure type of Maori'. Ethnology's romantic quest for atavistic purity was seemingly satisfied by a synthesis of Illingworth's life-casting practices (most clearly evident in the startling realism of the eye sockets and neck area) and his parallel talent for idealisation, resulting in a classicising bust that represented the 'classic' Māori type. As a contemporary commentator expressed it: 'The study is imaginary. For a subject Mr. Illingworth selected an old Maori of noble mien, took a cast of his head, and then idealized.'

Augustus Hamilton, _Nelson Illingworth in his 'Studio' at the Dominion Museum_ , c. 1909, gelatin silver photograph, 154 × 193 mm. ILLINGWORTH FAMILY PAPERS, SYDNEY; PHOTOGRAPH BY DANIEL SHIPP

To fulfil the commission of the ten busts stipulated in the contract, early in 1909 Illingworth created a further, unnamed bust which was described as 'a Maori chief of the ancient order, fully tattooed after an authentic pattern'. Based on the same life casts as _Tupai_ , this final bust was a completely depersonalised idealisation of a Māori chief of olden times, bedecked in a dog-skin cloak: 'Mr Illingworth has brought his imagination well to bear on this portrayal of a vanished type, and the accumulated knowledge of his previous Maori studies has contributed to the work's success.' Here, then, is the paradox that lies at the heart of Illingworth's project. To be able to serve as a 'type specimen', the authority of the individual likeness needed to be submerged in favour of an idealised 'ancient' type, including the application of a facial moko based more on pictorial record than on any genuine 'specimen'. Yet whatever the idealisation or exaggeration involved, it is as realistic depictions of individual likeness that the portraits – and seemingly even the completely idealised ones – have functioned as ancestral images within the Māori world. Like paintings and photographs, the sculptures inhabit the all-important realm of whakapapa, the web of genealogical connections between peoples, tribes, land and taonga tuku iho – the heirlooms whose fate had brought them into the special storehouse of the museum.

The coda to this story concerns Illingworth's final New Zealand commission – again from the government – for an impressive monument to Tamahau Mahupuku, the influential Wairarapa chief who had bequeathed his magnificent carved house to the nation. Enormous numbers of mourners attended the tangi over Mahupuku that was held before Tākitimu in 1904, while a correspondingly vast crowd attended the unveiling of the chief's memorial monument at Pāpāwai Pā near Greytown on 29 April 1911. The monument took the form of a four-sided mausoleum, conceived by Illingworth in 'Early Renaissance' style, on which three bronze relief panels were intended to be installed. One was a striking portrait of Mahupuku in his prime; another showed Mahupuku signing a memorial to Queen Victoria, with 'the late Mr Seddon sitting on the other side of the table, and the Hon. James Carroll, Parata, and several notable Natives faithfully pictured in a group of heads at the back'. A third panel was titled _The Coming of the Pakeha_ , imaging an old-time Māori warrior beside a young woman and child, the latter peering towards the invisible invaders. The juxtaposition was intended to embody 'words spoken by Mahupuku on a notable occasion when he said very truthfully that he stood on the borderland between the old and the new order of things in New Zealand'. The fourth side was reserved for a marble slab bearing a suitable inscription.

Despite the decidedly old-fashioned conception of the monument, the execution of the bronze panels made use of a novel electroplating technology imported by the entrepreneurial Illingworth for his newly – and very briefly – established Metallic Sign and Plating Company. At the monument's unveiling, however, the group-portrait panel was excluded because it represented living individuals and 'to so perpetuate the living did violence to the Maori sense of the fitness of things'. The problem was that _Tamahau Mahupuku Signing the Diamond Jubilee Memorial to Queen Victoria_ , apart from depicting the deceased Mahupuku and Seddon, also included the decidedly living politicians James Carroll and Tame Parata. The same precept that had stymied Illingworth's attempts to work with elderly Māori models had now led to censorship of his monument to the dead chief.

The jaded _Evening Post_ commentator remained unim-pressed by the entire affair, noting that the memorial 'with its Sicilian marble and bronze is decidedly non-Maori in feeling and design, however admirable the craftsmanship may be':

Nelson Illingworth, _Tamahau Mahupuku Signing the Diamond Jubilee Memorial to Queen Victoria_ , 1911, bronze and lead, 1080 × 640 mm. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA, GH002258, PURCHASED 1963

It appears incongruous in its setting of palisade and carved posts. But these, too, are but mongrel-Maori. On looking at it all one cannot but feel sad and moved to lament with the old Maori chief who tearfully exclaimed at Papawai 'we are flowing to oblivion.'

The journalist compared the 'travesty' of Mahupuku's monument with the 'purely native art' of the chief's magnificent carved house, that had 'employed over one hundred workmen upon it, men of his own race, with the remnants of the cunning of native artists and craftsmen still in their possession'.

In the event, Mahupuku's legacy amounted to relatively little. Despite the widely publicised bequest, after his death in 1904 the carved house resolutely remained on its site at Kehemene – Ngā Waka-o-Kupe or Tablelands, near Martinborough – until its destruction by fire on 31 December 1911. Pāpāwai Pā meanwhile entered a period of decline, when the marae complex was all but abandoned. A casual intruder in 1920 remarked on the neglected air of the monument, from which 'one of the panels is either missing or has not yet been inserted, the vacant space spoiling the whole effect'. Interestingly, the panel showing Seddon and the principal Wairarapa rangatira was now in place, while _The Coming of the Pakeha_ had disappeared. The unidentified Pākehā visitor proceeded to explore the buildings of the pā, inspecting a stack of old oil paintings which 'should have a home in the Dominion Museum, instead of being allowed to perish in such neglect'. One painting – of 'a young and handsome chieftainess, whose lustrous eyes seemed almost alive in the gloom' – the writer identified as by an 'early German artist, whose skill in portraying the Maori characteristics has scarcely been excelled'. After World War One, Lindauer – who by birth was Bohemian and a former citizen of the Austro-Hungarian Empire – would sometimes be identified as German.

In 1942, an earthquake fatally crippled the monument at Pāpāwai. It was dismantled and re-erected in a different format in 1952, with cast-concrete versions of two of the reliefs placed on either side of the carved memorial inscription. Illingworth's miraculously preserved painted plaster busts reside in the taonga Māori store at Te Papa, while the damaged faux-bronze panel of Mahupuku signing Victoria's diamond jubilee memorial – categorised as a 'plaque' – is in the care of the History department. Illingworth's works exist in an indeterminate space between the oscillating categories of Māori and Pākehā, art and ethnology, and realistic and idealised portraiture.

### **SHADOW-CARVING OF THE PĀKEHĀ TOHUNGA: THE LINDAUER ART GALLERY**

Writing in a shaky hand on a spare page of his travelling notebook, the elderly Gottfried Lindauer aggregated the income that he had received for his Māori portrait production – a grand total of £4,474, inclusive of £1,421 contributed by the Auckland businessman and collector Henry Partridge. This lucrative income stream flowed largely from the Māori world, where in the later nineteenth century life-sized oil portraits came to enjoy a special prestige. Indeed, it is the bicultural nature of this patronage – and the working practices that achieved it – that sets Lindauer apart from other painters of the period who depicted Māori subjects. A later chapter pays closer attention to this indigenous patronage, considering the economic and socio-political contexts that supported portrait and curio collecting. Here we explore the historical and aesthetic circumstances of the important collection assembled by Partridge and reflect on the enthusiastic Māori reception of the Lindauer Art Gallery in the years following its opening in May 1901.

Lindauer's first Māori portrait was made in Nelson, soon after his arrival in the colony in 1874. Hūria Mātenga was famed for her heroism in assisting at an 1863 shipwreck, and by securing her portrait Lindauer revealed an early awareness of Māori celebrity as a marketable category of work. Accorded a rapturous reception when shown in an Auckland shop window in 1876, the portrait of Hūria – in a distinctively patterned feather cloak, with greenstone pendants suspended from her neck – was among the first to be acquired by Partridge for his incipient collection of Māori notables. As early as 1876, Lindauer expressed a desire to find a model for a full-length portrait of 'one of the Maori chiefs of the old school to send to Vienna. He is desirous of obtaining one well tattooed, and dressed in the old costume of flax mat, &c.' This desire for 'ethnological' gravitas – delivered largely by indigenous accoutrements – would be played out within the collections formed by Walter Buller and Henry Partridge.

It was in Wellington in 1877 that the democratic nature of the shop-window exhibition highlighted the magnetic attraction that Lindauer's portraits exerted on Māori viewers, and where his Māori portrait practice began in earnest. The artist's recollections of the situation that unfolded on the principal thoroughfare of Lambton Quay, when visiting Māori were electrified by the exhibited portraits, surface in an obituary written by his son:

Such crowds of Maoris persisted in dancing haka in front of the shop in their excitement, and thus obstructing the road, that the police sergeant declared in jest that Mr Lindauer would be held responsible for the salaries of extra policemen on duty there.

A celebrated libel case in the Supreme Court, impinging on the sale of Māori land, had brought Te Hāpuku and other Hawke's Bay chiefs to Wellington. In another brief reminiscence of his father's career, Victor Lindauer claimed that Te Hāpuku commissioned three versions of his portrait, and that the artist 'painted Hapuku later again for Partridge'. The Partridge Collection portrait is clearly dated 1877 and hence is revealing on two counts. Firstly, we see how Lindauer's portrait formula was firmly established in these early years. Draped in a kaitaka and holding a greenstone mere, the venerable Te Hāpuku directly confronts both artist and viewer of the portrait – a mode deployed in numerous later Māori commissions. Secondly, replication of the portraits of celebrated individuals – with strategic retention of either the 'original' or a replica – had become part of his business practice. Whereas Goldie made a clear distinction between 'original' and 'facsimile' – that is, the work executed in front of the model, as opposed to a later copy – Lindauer's artful replication of works tended to blur such a distinction. Given Lindauer's heavy reliance on photography in the preparation of his portraits, perhaps 'reproduction' is a better term than 'replica' or 'copy'.

Gottfried Lindauer, _Huria Matenga Ngarongoa (Julia Martin)_ , 1874, oil on canvas, 825 × 710 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MR H. E. PARTRIDGE, 1915

Gottfried Lindauer, _Te Hapuku_ , 1877, oil on canvas, 995 × 844 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MR H. E. PARTRIDGE, 1915

Gottfried Lindauer, _Paora Tuhaere_ , 1878, oil on canvas, 828 × 696 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MRS EMMA SLOANE, 1934

Gottfried Lindauer, _Paora Tuhaere_ , 1895, oil on canvas, 833 × 717 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MR H. E. PARTRIDGE, 1915

In the catalogue of the 2014 exhibition _Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori-Portraits_ , German art historian Annette Tietenberg makes a direct analogy between the Māori patronage of Lindauer and European society portraiture, arguing that '[i]t is not by chance that their badges of rank and insignia of power are foregrounded so effectively: rare feathers, precious necklaces of _pounamu_ and sharks' teeth as well as the _kaitaka_ passed down in their families'. However, the earliest Māori commissions tell a decidedly different story, in which leading chiefs present themselves in immaculate European attire. For example, the 1878 portrait of the pre-eminent Auckland chief Pāora Tūhaere shows him in the formal European attire that he wore when invited to an important engagement in town. At Tūhaere's tangi in March 1892, it was reported that 'over the head of the coffin was suspended a large and lifelike portrait of himself, surrounded by a massive gilt frame'. This was likely to have been the 1878 portrait, for it cannot have been the other portrait of this chief in the Auckland Art Gallery, which was commissioned from Lindauer by Partridge in 1895 – that is, three years after Tūhaere's death.

The two portraits of Tūhaere offer a telling opposition – between the suavely dressed chief, depicted at least partly from life, and his posthumous appearance in entirely Māori costume that, somewhat ironically, was itself based on a Pulman photograph of the chief in a fashionable European suit. While the Partridge Collection holds several Māori politicians in suits and the occasional military leader in uniform, Henry Partridge's clear preference was that his Māori celebrities should appear in 'traditional' Māori dress. This was invariably the case for the considerable number of long-dead celebrities – Tāmati Wāka Nene is a prime example – who were painted from _carte-de-visite_ portraits, with the European suits in the photographs replaced by spellbinding cloaks and weapons. What is almost completely absent from all 62 portraits collected by Partridge is any sign of the hybrid Pākehā–Māori wardrobe that is a common feature of so many photographs from this period, as well as of many Māori-commissioned paintings by Lindauer.

Elizabeth Pulman Studio, _Tamati Waka Nene_ , c. 1870, albumen photograph, 90 × 58 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MICHAEL GRAHAM-STEWART

The earlier portrait of Tūhaere, together with most of the Māori-commissioned portraits, arguably sits within an _ethnographic_ tradition that began at the time of first contact between Māori and Europeans. The important difference is that, rather than collection by metropolitan or colonial agencies, such portraits were now owned by Māori and hence dedicated to Māori purposes, including memorialising the dead. The later portrait of Tūhaere – and the bulk of works collected by Henry Partridge and Walter Buller – belong instead to an _ethnological_ tradition that emerged with the rise of colonial museums and art galleries. As well as commemorating historic personalities, such works were additionally intended to place Māori culture on display and hence served more complex roles than straightforward individual portraiture. As James Cowan pointed out in 1901, when the Lindauer Art Gallery opened on Auckland's Queen Street, Partridge's was a historical collection of 'Maoris now deceased, dignified rangitiras [sic] and fierce warriors who have now passed away to the Reinga', its value based on the 'scrupulous precision of the minutiae of tattoo-marks, costumes, weapons, etc'. Still, as the enthusiastic Māori reception of the Lindauer Art Gallery would reveal, the achievements of the Pākehā collector and memorialist were also open to Māori interpretation and use.

Commentators would occasionally speculate on the posterity of Lindauer's portraits, as in 1883 at Cambridge when the artist spread a rumour that he was about to return to his native city in Europe – a tactic probably designed to drum up additional commissions:

The Maoris of the old type are fast passing away, and nothing could possess more interest for future generations than a gallery of such pictures as these. In a very few years it will be impossible to obtain them. None of the local museums being in a position to incur the costs of a proper series of such portraits, the Government ought, in the interests of the colony, to take advantage of this opportunity of securing so valuable a collection of historical paintings.

Gottfried Lindauer, _Tamati Waka Nene_ , 1890, oil on canvas, 1019 × 842 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MR H. E. PARTRIDGE, 1915

A decade later, assessing the heroic military portrait of Taitoko Keepa Te Rangihiwinui (the Whanganui leader known to Pākehā as Major Kemp), a Wellington commentator noted that:

Pictures of this kind will possess great value when the present race of Maori chiefs has passed away. The rising generation is becoming Europeanized, and is losing many of the distinctive features of the Maori character. We should be glad to see portraits on this scale of such old chiefs as Tamati Waka Nene and Hone Heke preserved in our national galleries. Their interest to the next generation of colonists would be incalculable, to say nothing of what is due to the original possessors of the soil.

Gottfried Lindauer, _Taitoko Keepa Te Rangihiwinui, Major Kemp_ , 1893, oil on canvas, 1450 × 1050 mm. WHANGANUI REGIONAL MUSEUM, 1899.224, BEQUEST OF TAITOKO KEEPA TE RANGIHIWINUI, 1898

In the absence of interest by such institutions, it was precisely this 'national' duty to which Partridge's collecting was responding.

When the Lindauer Art Gallery opened in 1901, the collection comprised 40 portraits and a recently completed, large-scale genre painting, _Tohunga under Tapu_. Descendants and relatives of portrait subjects had regularly been welcomed at Partridge's residence in Grafton Road and it is likely that the facilitation of such visits was a significant motive behind the opening of the gallery. The very existence of two visitors' books, one with Māori-language letter-press inviting viewers to contribute, is evidence that Māori access to the collection was central to the gallery's planning. Certainly, many of the visitors thought that Partridge's initiative was made on behalf of Māori. Rameka Poi of Waiapu (no. 124) considered it 'a noble gesture', while Te Kei Paehua of Ngāti Raukawa (no. 145) paid homage 'to the Pākehā who fashioned you in this way to be admired by your future descendants'. Hōne Mima Tiuakauamate of Ngāti Porou (no. 157) wrote that 'to my knowledge it is an act of kindness to us from the Pākehā, to take care of things like this so that we will remember our loved ones who have departed from us'.

_Pukapuka Mo Nga Manuhiri Tangata Matakitiki_ [sic] [Māori Visitors' Book], Lindauer Art Gallery, 1901–1918, ledger, half-leather binding, 390 × 275 × 50 mm. E. H. MCCORMICK RESEARCH LIBRARY, AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI

This rich documentation of Māori involvement with the collection reveals a reaction to ancestral imagery that is distinct from European notions of both art and ethnography. The very existence of the gallery provided cause for excitement:

The crowds of Maori visitors there never require any key or catalogue, thus proving the excellence of the portraits – and it is noticeable that they take little or no interest in the pictures of chiefs other than those of their own particular tribe; but these, once spotted, come in for rounds of applause, delivered in Maori fashion, thus: 'By golly!' _ad lib_., they say, and then rush into the street to bring in friends or relations that may be anywhere near.

As already noted, portrait paintings served important roles within the Māori world, including display within meeting houses and deployment at tangi, but those collections placed emphasis on the genealogical connections between portrayed individuals. Partridge's gallery was an entirely different affair, encompassing a multiplicity of tribes, both 'rebels' and 'friendlies', and therefore quite distinct from extant Māori collections. Hence the oblique comment on the nature of the collection made by Tūpōtahi Tūkorehu of Kihikihi (no. 147): 'The caretaker of these paintings was right to display them at the same place.' Māori visitors repeatedly wrote of the 'whakamiharo' – surprise or amazement – that was provoked by the lifelike quality of the portraits, and of how they could sense the spiritual presence of the depicted ancestors. The Rev. Hōne Peri Paerata of Ngāti Tūwharetoa (no. 108) writes of Tūreiti Te Heuheu Tūkino's 'amazement in relation to the spiritual chiefs [rangatira wairua] present in physical form in this house'. According to Rere Te Kowha of Ngāpuhi (no. 146), 'they are happy living here in the presence of my Pākehā friend, who has done a great job'.

James Cowan published a selection of translated comments in an appendix to his _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ , the 1930 book that documented the entire Partridge collection. Among these was the inscription made on 26 June 1901 by Āpirana Ngata (no. 84). 'No Ngatiporou au', he begins – 'I am from Ngāti Porou':

I tae mai ki konei tangi ai ki nga tangata nunui o era ra – o te houkuratanga o te tangata. He hanga ahua reka ki te matakitaki, te ata whakairo a te tohunga pakeha – ano kua ara katoa mai i te mate. Me whakawhetai tatou ki te tangata nana i pupuru nga ahua o a tatou kaumatua hei taonga mo enei ra e tu mai nei.

I have come here to lament over the great men of other days, the people brought before us coloured as if they were living. Pleasing to the eye is the shadow-carving of the European artist – it is as if they had all arisen from the dead. Thankful are we to the man who has preserved these pictures of our elders, our old chiefs, as a treasure for the years that are to come.

By using that evocative phrase – shadow-carving of the Pākehā tohunga – Ngata incorporates Lindauer's work within a Māori aesthetic. In a similar vein, Kuīni Wī Rangipūpū of Ngāti Ruanui and Rangitopeora of Te Āti Awa – visiting the gallery on 12 June 1908 – expressed their 'great admiration for the Pākehā expert [te tohunga pakeha]', but also the prospect that Māori might take up portrait painting for themselves: 'We sincerely hope the day will come when Māori will acquire this skill as it seems very much akin to the carving work of the Māori.'

It must have been James Cowan who reported on the visit by King Mahuta on 29 August 1901, made in the company of his uncle, Pātara Te Tuhi, who was then acting as an informant to Cowan. Included in the account was a translation of the inscription that Mahuta made in the visitors' book, which Cowan used to represent the speech that had concluded the visit:

Mahuta, before leaving the gallery, made a characteristic speech. Looking round at the pictures of old warriors and tribal leaders, long since dead, ranged on the walls, he said: 'I have looked upon these paintings of the Maori chiefs of Aotearoa and Te Wai-pounamu (the North and South Islands). My heart fills with grief at the sight of these likenesses of my ancestors, my fathers and mothers. Salutations to all of you here assembled (addressing the pictures)! Greetings also to the man who painted the pictures, the owner of them and the person who has them in charge. God save you all!'

It was Cowan's close association with the Māori world, and the vivid writing style with which he communicated this world to a Pākehā readership, that had inspired Partridge to commission the young bilingual journalist to assemble a sequence of biographies to accompany the 40 portraits that comprised the collection in 1901. Three decades later, and by now the celebrated author of a stream of books and articles on Māori topics, Cowan revised and updated his work to encompass all 62 portraits and eight large genre paintings that comprised the final collection. Not only was this the first monograph to be published on a leading New Zealand artist, but the inclusion of translated excerpts from the visitors' books meant that Cowan's book was also the first monograph on a New Zealand artist to take account of the bicultural reception of that artist's work.

### **NOBLE RELICS: THE 'ETHNOGRAPHS' OF CHARLES F. GOLDIE**

Edwards Studio's famous photograph of Goldie and his model Pātara Te Tuhi appeared over the title 'Afternoon Tea in the Studio' in the November 1901 issue of the _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ – a compelling publicity image orchestrated by a 30-year-old artist poised on the threshold of an illustrious career [see p. 19]. Goldie was familiar with similar promotional imagery from his student years in Paris in the mid-1890s, where _pompier_ masters such as William Bouguereau and Jean-Léon Gérôme were depicted within studios that doubled as opulent showrooms. He knew that such photographs operated as special tokens or gifts, signed by the artist for favoured friends and prospective clients. And he also knew that achieving a profile in a national magazine, particularly one dedicated to art and literature, was an important step in the consolidation of his reputation.

Seated at the heart of the composition is the esteemed Waikato chief Pātara Te Tuhi, among the earliest of the models that art historian Michael Dunn – as recently as 1991 – referred to as Goldie's 'rest home Maoris decked out often in old-time cloaks, tikis and pendants and wearing the _moko_ that was by then a fast dying art'. The photograph tells us that Pātara has partly disrobed for the task – his hat, shirt, waistcoat and walking stick are visible on the left, while his everyday trousers and boots protrude from beneath the cloak. However, we would be wrong to dismiss the elderly Māori chief as little more than a passive prop manipulated by the Pākehā artist. By staging a moment of rest, the photograph emphasises the collaborative nature of the work in the studio as well as the hospitality that was included. Pātara's status as a celebrity is signalled both through his central position in the photograph, and by his doubling in the form of the almost completed painting on the easel. Goldie is effectively announcing his 'acquisition' of Pātara Te Tuhi, one of the most famous survivors from the pre-colonial Māori past. Collaboration with high-status models, in tandem with the novelty of his hyper-realist style, was an important driver of Goldie's own celebrity.

The title of the work on the easel, _Patara Te Tuhi, an Old Warrior_ , is deceptive. Pātara had certainly taken a leading role in the struggles that culminated in the disastrous war and tribal dispossession of the 1860s, but his weaponry took the form of a printing press. As discussed earlier, Pātara was the first Māori editor and printer of a Māori-language newspaper, the full name of which was _Te Hokioi o Nui-Tireni, e rere atu na_ (the war bird of New Zealand in flight to you), issued from Ngāruawāhia in 1862–63. Also noted was his participation in the delegation to London in mid-1884, led by his cousin and brother-in-law King Tāwhiao. Although ultimately unsuccessful in its mission to lay Māori land grievances before Queen Victoria, members of the group experienced the myriad of cultural treasures and entertainments on offer in the imperial capital. Importantly, given his later collaboration with Goldie, Pātara was exposed to numerous portrait collections, ranging from the demotic hyper-realism of Madame Tussaud's famous waxworks – where the group encountered Cetshwayo, the Zulu king who had been a celebrity visitor two years earlier – to the gracious splendour of the country house of the colonial secretary Lord Derby, whose art collection was reputedly among the best in Britain.

Charles F. Goldie, _Patara Te Tuhi, an Old Warrior_ , 1901, oil on canvas, 765 × 635 mm. AUCKLAND MUSEUM, GIFT OF OLIVE GOLDIE, 1951

Pātara's introduction to Goldie came through their mutual friend, the journalist and historian James Cowan, who was researching biographies for Partridge's publication. In a biographical account of the chief, Cowan describes Pātara at work in the studio:

Sitting for his portrait the other day in Mr Goldie's studio, old Patara – with his wrinkled blue-carven face, a flax mat flung round his shoulders, a rare greenstone hei-tiki round his neck, a greenstone Kahurangi pendant in one ear and a shark's-tooth, suspended by a black ribbon, in the other, and in his hand his treasured carved walking-staff . . . looked a strange centrepiece for the pictures, the bits of statuary casts, the Parisian figure types, and the other odds and ends which make up the furniture of an artist's working-room.

Cowan noted, however, that Pātara was quite at home in Goldie's studio: 'There was an artistic appreciation in his keen old eye, peering out from under deep corrugated eyebrows, as he took in the contents of the studio, and he chuckled reminiscently in the aboriginal fashion when he squinted at a little study of a shapely feminine "altogether" on the wall.' The memories were of the louche English women he had encountered in bustling Tiatakorosi – Charing Cross: 'shameless creatures, not like our Maori women'.

Regardless of the eight shillings he reputedly earned for each day's sitting, the extroverted Pātara surely relished the camaraderie to be experienced within the artist's exotic workspace, which welcomed a constant stream of fascinating visitors. Composer Alfred Hill tapped out tunes on the studio's piano, while civil servant and amateur ethnologist Edward Tregear encouraged performances of ancient haka and waiata from the models. Pātara was a noted wood carver who had recently overseen a carved house at Waahi for his nephew, King Mahuta. While not a professional in the same league as Te Arawa carving contemporaries Tene Waitere and Ānaha Te Rāhui, like them Pātara juggled customary duties in the Māori world with the production of spectacular pieces for Pākehā consumption. A six-year project in the early 1890s resulted in a 'very cleverly carved model of the ancient Maori canoe Tainui', over 2 metres in length, which was shown at the Waverley Hotel in June 1896, at the Auckland Art Gallery in February 1898, and later that year at the South Seas Court of the Auckland Exhibition. In Goldie's studio, beyond his status as a historical personage, Pātara would have enjoyed recognition as an artist in his own right.

The 1898–99 Auckland Exhibition, staged in specially constructed buildings in the Domain, also included an impressive loan from Henry Partridge of 24 portraits of Māori notables by Gottfried Lindauer – works that Goldie, freshly returned from almost five years' study in Paris, must have scrutinised with interest. Although in later years he was reportedly incensed by the eternal coupling of his name with that of Lindauer, Goldie's distinctive brand of Māori portraiture was derived in part from the older artist's example. Nevertheless, there were fundamental differences that extend beyond questions of style and artistic prowess. As already noted, Lindauer's highly successful business model was based on securing commissions from Māori clients who would pay handsomely for life-sized oil portraits. Also, in the case of celebrity subjects, Lindauer could augment his income by replicating selected works for Pākehā collectors such as Partridge, Buller and others.

Goldie's work operated on a diametrically opposed financial model. Whereas Māori clients paid Lindauer to supply portraits they would then own, Goldie instead paid Māori to sit as models, including for paintings that they knew would be offered at high prices on the art market. In addition to the sitting fees, however, collaboration with Goldie delivered a national profile that was achieved through the widespread reproduction of his works. Pātara Te Tuhi appeared in another Goldie painting of 1901, _A Hot Day_ , that was purchased for the Christchurch civic collection and widely distributed as a chromolithographic print. Whereas Pātara as an 'old warrior' conformed to the heroic portrait mode established by Lindauer, as an unidentified old man asleep Pātara exemplified the sentimental mode that would become a trademark of Goldie's. The portrait noted as prominently displayed at Pātara's tangi in 1910 must have been the chromolithograph of this painting.

Charles F. Goldie, _A Hot Day_ , 1901, oil on canvas, 437 × 359 mm. CHRISTCHURCH ART GALLERY TE PUNA O WAIWHETŪ, GIFT OF THE CANTERBURY SOCIETY OF ARTS, 1932

In these early years, critics repeatedly stressed the urgency of Goldie's task. This was the major theme of an essay contributed to the _Triad_ by Richard Arnold Singer. A young lawyer and habitué of Goldie's exotically furnished studio, Singer argued that 'from Mr. Goldie one obtains a true and a brilliant impression not only of the habits and customs, but of the very character, the very life, the idiosyncrasies of nature and of feature of the Maori – characteristics that in a few short years it will no longer be possible to represent, for the old chiefs and chieftainesses, and the old warriors whom this artist chooses as his models, are the last of their race; the tattooed man is dying out – the Maori of the new generation is not the majestic warrior of the past'. Singer reported that Goldie intended to 'undertake larger work in the representation of Maori life and character on a big scale' and argued that these ambitions were deserving of national support:

After all, Maori relics can always be obtained for a price, and though the Government are not too solicitous in making collections of relics, still New Zealand possesses several fairly representative Museums. But the old Maori chiefs, and their old time historic race, is dying out all too quickly, and in a decade from now it will be too late to hope for the preservation of the type on canvas for all time. Should not steps be taken, therefore, at once to encourage this work, and to assist New Zealand's finest and truly representative artist in the labours which he has undertaken?

According to Singer, Goldie was 'a firm believer in the Semitic origin of the Maori . . . thus supporting many other present day authorities on this ethnological conjecture'. Somewhat passé by this period, speculation concerning 'lost tribes of Israel' represented an earlier, missionary-originated paradigm of Māori origins that had been displaced by the 'Aryan' theories proposed by the likes of Smith, Tregear and Newman.

Whereas Lindauer painted well over 200 Māori subjects, the individuals in Goldie's entire body of work number only in the dozens and in the early years were restricted to a small cohort of elderly models. It is likely that Pātara introduced Goldie to Hārata Rēwiri Tarapata and her cousin, Īna Te Papatahi. Īna's earliest depiction dates from 1902 and she remained a favourite model, appearing in several larger-scale works including the portentously titled (after Wordsworth) _'The memory of what has been and never more will be'_ (1905). It was Īna, in turn, who persuaded Te Aho-o-te-rangi Wharepū of Waikato to pose, leading to a celebrated series of paintings that dominated the 1905 exhibition of the Auckland Society of Arts. A reviewer of this exhibition linked a shortage of suitable models to the salvage work that Goldie was understood to be conducting:

Charles F. Goldie, _'The memory of what has been and never more will be'_ , 1905, oil on canvas, 1150 × 900 mm. DUNEDIN PUBLIC ART GALLERY, PURCHASED WITH FUNDS FROM THE DUNEDIN PUBLIC ART GALLERY SOCIETY, 1951

How long Mr Goldie will be able to secure models is a very serious matter. The difficulty is already acute, for despite what one knows must be his anxiety in this matter, he is now practically confined to two individuals, and in the case of this well-known chieftainess who sat for two paintings this year, as well as two the year before, and two the year before that, this is already leading thoughtless people into criticism that the artist is repeating himself unduly, and issuing paintings so similar as to discount their value and that of previous work.

Charles F. Goldie, _Sophia, the Heroine of Tarawera_ , 1910, oil on panel, 203 × 153 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF LINCOLN N. ASTLEY, 1987

Charles F. Goldie, _Kapi Kapi, aged 102, a Survivor of the Tarawera Eruption_ , 1910, oil on panel, 267 × 203 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF THE AUCKLAND PICTURE PURCHASE FUND, 1910

So far as this writer was concerned, it was the sheer rarity value of the models that offered a compelling case for the acquisition of Goldie's works for public collections:

The time is upon us when no models whatever will be available, and it will be a thousand pities if by the purchase of pictures already secured by the artist he is not enabled to go further afield and find subjects which may offer still greater scope for his ambitions, and enable him to produce historical pictures of the finest dark-skinned race the world has ever known.

Goldie's relatively narrow specialism led inevitably to critical detraction, moderated somewhat by admiration for his technical prowess. While critiquing two of the modestly priced smaller works that were proving more saleable than the expensive, life-sized portrayals, a Dunedin critic in 1909 coined the term 'ethnograph'. He or she argued that Goldie's 'little tours de force' – while 'simply wonderful as examples of technique' – nevertheless failed to qualify as works of art:

One is tempted to paraphrase Napoleon's famous criticism, and say, 'it is wonderful, but it is not art.' These two little curiosities are the most marvellous imitations of coloured photographs imaginable. The wrinkles on the leathery skin seem modelled, and each individual hair may be almost counted, while the Maori carving is fashioned with remarkable precision. No artist in the world can excel Mr Goldie at the production of ethnographs, and it might well be suggested to the New Zealand Government that, as exchanges with the various museums of the world, this artist's Maori studies would be of great value.

Similar sentiments were offered that same year by a Wellington critic, who noted that '[m]any people, while readily acknowledging Mr Goldie's services to ethnology in once and for all transferring to canvas such interesting memorials of a noble race, do not go so far as to grant that his Maori works are pictures'. This critic made a careful distinction between 'scientific' and 'pictorial' value, anticipating later arguments that Goldie's work belonged more in an ethnographic museum than a gallery of art.

Despite such wrangling, the dominant view in this period held that Goldie was New Zealand's pre-eminent artist. In 1908 the _Weekly Graphic and New Zealand Mail_ hosted a competition to name 'the six best New Zealand artists, living or dead, including not only those who are natives of the country, but also those of any nationality who have resided in the Dominion and produced New Zealand pictures in Oil or Water Colours'. Hands-down winner was Goldie, nominated by 90 per cent of the voters, followed by several leading landscape painters, with Lindauer languishing in eighth place and cited by less than 25 per cent of the voters. Lindauer's only consolation was that L. J. Steele, the 'Meissonier of Maoriland', trailed behind him at eleventh place. That same year, Goldie's elevated status was cemented by the acquisition for the Auckland Art Gallery, under the auspices of the Auckland Picture Purchase Fund that was jointly funded by government and citizenry, of a large-scale portrait of Pātara Te Tuhi; the other major purchase was Walter Wright's history painting _The Burning of the Boyd, Whangaroa, 1809_ (1908). In 1911 the Picture Purchase Fund underwrote the acquisition of another grand work by Goldie, _A Noble Relic of a Noble Race: Wharekauri Tahuna, a 'Tohunga' or Priest of the Tuhoe Tribe_ (1910). Just as Lindauer's historicising depictions in Partridge's gallery had assumed a role beyond straightforward portraiture, so Goldie's 'noble relics' were assigned to the category of history within the civic gallery's collection of colonial art.

Though Goldie's elegiac presentation of elderly Māori models is routinely linked to the colonial trope of the dying race, a more nuanced reading is possible. By the turn of the twentieth century it had become clear that, despite the fervent hopes of many colonists, Māori would not be expiring as expected. In response to the increase in the Māori population recorded by the 1901 census, the artist's brother, Dr William D. Goldie, published an essay entitled 'The Destiny of the Maori Race' in which he affirmed that 'transformation, not extinction, is the ultimate destiny of the race'. Dr Goldie considered that 'the Maori half-castes, and eventually the mixed race, will be superior to either of the parent stocks'. What Charles thought of his brother's utopian views we do not know, but assimilationist discourse enjoyed wide currency in this period. Racial fusion 'on the highest possible plane' was an ideal embraced by Āpirana Ngata and the Young Maori Party, while Native Minister William Herries eagerly anticipated this freshly engineered 'end' for Māori: 'I look forward for the next hundred years or so to the time when we shall have no Maoris at all, but a white race with a dash of the finest coloured race in the world.'

The ethnological discourse of vanishing 'types', so prevalent in contemporary appraisals of Goldie's paintings, covertly references racial mixing or 'miscegenation' – the very term used by Te Rangi Hīroa in a withering 1924 riposte to 'scholarly' predictions of Māori extinction. Goldie's models were construed by critics as belonging to the past, serving as 'links between the original Maori and the Maori who is not original, but only imitative'. Like Nelson Illingworth and his ethnological sculptures, by recording ancient 'types' Goldie was thought to be salvaging the last of a noble line. As a _New Zealand Herald_ reviewer of 1901 put it: 'The originals are fast disappearing . . . The type of Patara will be extinct in a few years.' However, it is extremely unlikely that Pātara ever considered himself to represent a vanishing 'type'. Based on his experience of English galleries and stately homes, as well as venues such as the Lindauer Art Gallery, where Māori were welcomed as visitors, he more likely conceived of the portraits accumulating in Goldie's studio as time-travellers – a means by which he and others who worked with talented artists such as Goldie could appear before audiences of the future, audiences that might conceivably include their own descendants. It was their sentimental cargo as much as the hyper-realist technique that prompted the denigration of Goldie's works by Pākehā modernists in the twentieth century, extending even to absurd charges of 'coon humour'. That similar views are absent from even the most radical of Māori commentaries underscores the tendentious basis of such claims.

Rupert Farnall, _Charles F. Goldie in his Studio_ , c. 1908, gelatin silver photograph, 200 × 255 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF INTERNATIONAL ART CENTRE, AUCKLAND

If the Lindauer Art Gallery took on the mantle of a Valhalla, or memorial hall of the great chiefs of the past, Goldie's nearby studio could be identified as an ethnological laboratory in which the young artist and his elderly models collaborated on paintings that went beyond the confines of straightforward portraiture, effectively amounting to a form of colonial orientalism. As in the case of Lindauer, where the precise significance of the works depended on whether you were a tourist, a settler, or a relative of the depicted chiefs, the meanings of these works were fluid. Whereas a Pākehā critic might hail Goldie's paintings as 'memorials of the old-time Maori in New Zealand', the Māori reception generally placed the works in a different, far more affirmative light. Hoani Te Heuheu Tūkino VI, whose father had marvelled over the 'rangatira wairua' (spiritual chiefs) in Partridge's gallery, described Goldie's portraits as 'hei tohu mo nga Maori i roto i te whakatupuranga' – icons for Māori of future generations.

H. G. Robley, _Hoete Paetirori at Arawa Pa at Maketu, New Zealand, 1865_ , c. 1905, watercolour and gouache on paper, 290 × 225 mm. REX NAN KIVELL COLLECTION, NATIONAL LIBRARY OF AUSTRALIA, NK58/11

## CHAPTER FOUR

## _Performing the Ancient Past_

ETHNOLOGICAL IDEALISATION IS EVIDENT in the Māori fondness for the _performance_ of Māori culture, manifest in the re-enactment of traditional culture as spectacle for Pākehā viewers, and especially in the early-twentieth-century craze for building model pā. Much has been written concerning the founding in the 1890s, by Ngata and other former students from the elite Te Aute College in Hawke's Bay, of the organisation that was initially known as the Association for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Maori Race. These were the origins of the Young Maori Party and the influential improvement programmes they instigated within the Māori world. However, Ngata understood that propaganda aimed at the Pākehā world was equally urgent. In December 1894, at the tender age of 20, he ambitiously competed with Auckland's numerous Christmas entertainments in offering a lecture at the City Hall on 'The Advent of the Pakeha; or the Story of a Conquered Race by One of Themselves'. The lecturer was 'clad in Maori costume' and, entirely without notes, gave a spirited, hour-and-three-quarter review of the Māori encounter with the European. William Blomfield was fulsome in his congratulations: 'Not exactly calculated to tickle the vanity of the pakeha, but you certainly scored more than once.' Highlighting the contrast between an idealised Māori past and an imperfect colonial present would remain a strategic political weapon that Ngata deployed throughout his career.

Given the present-day status of the haka as a pre-eminent icon of the bicultural nation, performed before every All Blacks rugby match, it is surprising to discover that at the turn of the twentieth century this archetypal Māori performance faced calls for its official suppression. In fact, the haka had long been a source of prurient Pākehā fascination, as revealed by expressions of disappointment when keenly anticipated performances proved insufficiently risqué. Provoked in part by sensationally reported court cases concerning the circulation of indecent images, controversy descended in early 1907 on the haka performed at the evening entertainments staged for tourists at Whakarewarewa. A flurry of correspondents wrote of the 'indecency' and 'gross vulgarity' they had witnessed during their summer excursions to Rotorua and called for the haka to be banned. This, it was fondly imagined, would serve to _protect_ Māori from the baleful influence of the dangerously primitive performance. 'If we are true friends of the Maori', argued the anonymous instigator of the controversy, 'let the haka be at once relegated to the limbo of obsolete heathen barbarities'. Another correspondent reinforced this view: 'Whilst our police are pursuing such a vigorous campaign against indecent and even suggestive pictures, to allow these dances to go on seems very incongruous.' Maggie Papakura, the celebrated guide of Whakarewarewa, fired back with both barrels:

What sort of war dance does he [Maorilander] expect to see? One of the olden times? The hakas at Whakarewarewa, if given by the men, are as near as we can get to the real war dance. The men strip to the waist, underneath they wear short trousers, with piupius (flax skirts) over them. . . . Of course, anything is vile to evil-minded persons, and I can but say to these individuals 'Honi soit qui mal y pense.' . . . The poi and haka are graceful dances, which give pleasure to pure-minded people.

The controversy provoked an incisive essay from William Baucke, the Te Kūiti resident and prolific commentator on Māori life and custom whose regular column in the _Herald_ was titled 'Where the White Man Treads'. In 'The Maori Haka', Baucke makes direct comparison between the corporeal realism of the haka and the use of the nude in European art. While openly admitting that haka included 'certain objectionable features', Baucke urged his Pākehā readers to indulge in cross-cultural contextualisation:

To the Maori in his unconventional realism his hakas were neither obscene nor did they conduce to immorality: they were to him facsimile reproductions of the same art which to us in our statuary and paintings of the nude stands for the highest delineation of the beautiful. . . . To the Maori his haka was as pure an art as are the statuary and pictures in the nude of my friend's drawing room, and as innocuous.

Baucke reminded his readers that the haka represented not an everyday affair, but rather a 'high art' developed for welcoming guests as well as the competitive displays typical of hospitality accorded to visitors. The graphic nature of many of the lyrics, and the unmistakeable meaning of certain gestures, placed the haka firmly outside of European conceptions of decency. Nevertheless, Baucke argued that this was tikanga, customary practice from ancient times, as opposed to titillation for tourists. His scorn was reserved for the hypocritical bleating of the pseudonymous writers: 'And to flippantly decry his performances as "bestial," and yet attend them, confronts us with one of the wonders of an hypocrisy which condemns in public what it practices [sic] in secret.'

Adam and Eve were supposedly ashamed of their nakedness, but in many cultures missionaries had trouble inculcating a sense of shame in relation to the human body, its parts and functions. And it seems that it was not just white anthropologists and surreptitious perverts who enjoyed looking at the outlandish costumes of other cultures. Constance Gordon Cumming, the intrepid Victorian lady traveller, reported that: 'When Mr. Mandesley visited the Maoris in the backblocks he showed them a number of Fijian photographs, at which they looked with keen interest, but were much shocked by the undress of the girls, which they remarked, was "even worse than that of the ladies who attended at the Government House ball."'

### **_TABLEAUX VIVANTS_ : ANIMATING THE ANCIENT WORLD**

_Tableaux vivants_ , usually the re-enactment of famous paintings or statues, were a popular entertainment at the turn of the century. Performers might reconstitute a fairy tale or well-known historical image such as the death of the Victorian explorers Burke and Wills. More alluringly, the living bronze statue known as Apollo Belvedere – a well-toned chap with excellent muscle control – would represent 'in his own Marvellous form of flesh and blood the BRONZE MASTERPIECES of the World'. This is how a distant ideal – known only through recounting or reproduction – would take on a degree of realism. Many Māori performances were dedicated to historicising re-enactments of their culture, a development which culminated in open-air theatre staged within re-creations of ancient architecture. Such endeavours amounted to the idealised portrayal, not of individuals, but of an entire culture.

In May 1901 a Maori Carnival was staged at Puketeraki, near Dunedin, as a fund-raiser for the local church. Dr Thomas Hocken and Augustus Hamilton were the principal organisers of an exhibition of curios displayed within the schoolroom on walls and in glass cases, to which visitors were charged admission. Hocken's loans included 'carved slabs from native houses, canoe paddles, bailers, and ornaments from the gables of houses', along with rare old lithographs including J. A. Gilfillan's _Interior of a Native Village or 'Pa' in New Zealand_ [see p. 26] and C. D. Barraud's depiction of the interior of Rangiātea, the Māori church at Ōtaki. Together with other choice curios, Hamilton exhibited photographs 'illustrating various scenes of Maori life' and 'a piece of modern carving by Tene, the best carver at Rotorua'. The latter was the now famous tā moko panel commissioned by Hamilton from Tene Waitere for Part IV of _Maori Art_ and today a prized item in the collections of Te Papa. Other, more ancient pieces were lent by John White, including 'part of a house which was standing at the Bay of Plenty when Captain Cook was there'. All these were naturally for exhibition only, but separate stalls 'under the charge of numerous dusky maidens' did a brisk trade in sales. In addition to the usual haka and poi dances, the evening's entertainment had promised that '[s]ome of the old customs of the race will be revived by tableaux', followed by short 'lecturettes' from Hocken and Hamilton on the history of the Māori and Māori art respectively. One such _tableau_ represented the naming of a Māori child, in which the role of the officiating tohunga was played by Peter Buck, then a student at the Otago Medical School. Another _tableau_ involved a demonstration of the Māori method of carrying a child on the back, one that was shared with many non-European cultures.

Tene Waitere, _Ta Moko Panel_ , commissioned by Augustus Hamilton, 1899, wood, shell, paint, 780 × 560 × 150 mm. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA, ME004211

Other art and curio exhibitions included the presentation by Māori of _tableaux_ depicting their traditional world. For example, at the opening of the New Plymouth Carnival and Industrial Exhibition at Christmas 1904, Colonel Pitt – New Plymouth's mayor and president of the carnival – praised the organising committee's invitation for Māori to participate in the event. Pitt 'trusted that the effect of the exhibition upon the younger members of the native visitors would be to strengthen the efforts of those who were working for the amelioration of the Maoris':

He supposed there was not any part of the colony where the natives and Europeans in years gone by had come more into conflict than they had in Taranaki, and therefore it was all the more pleasant to see the Europeans, in the height of their prosperity, inviting the Maoris to be present at and witness their exhibition.

Pitt's speech was met with warm applause, a vigorous haka, the national anthem, and a royal salute from the Taranaki Volunteers.

As an adjunct to the exhibition of Māori objects mounted by Pākehā collectors in the exhibition's well-publicised Curio Room, and an array of artefacts offered for sale by Butterworth's Old Curiosity Shop, a group of Taranaki Māori agreed to inhabit a specially constructed old-time 'Typical Maori Village'. Led by the widow of the late chief Kāhui, families from the rural settlement of Rāhopu took ceremonial possession of the palisaded 'pā' on Boxing Day evening, leading on from the exhibition's official opening. Colonel Pitt, whose words were translated by the Rev. Frederick Bennett, acknowledged the late chief Kāhui and the prominent part he had played in the Maori Village project and wished the denizens a Merry Christmas. Kāhui's son made a speech in reply, after which they settled into the village where, on the following day, the Rev. Bennett led a church service. The centrepiece for the model village was Rua-toki-te-hau, a carved house dating from the 1870s that was lent by Mrs Butterworth, widow of the curio dealer James Butterworth. Apart from providing a display backdrop for paying exhibition visitors, the buildings afforded guest housing for Māori visitors as well as a platform from which Māori could welcome important visitors to the exhibition – and it was reported that elite politicians were honoured with presentations of cloaks. Before a week had elapsed, the village celebrated the birth of a child who was duly christened Kaniwara (Carnival), a forerunner of the later child who would be named Araiteuru after the model pā at the New Zealand International Exhibition.

The Māori participation at New Plymouth is particularly striking, given that the event was designed to celebrate Pākehā hegemony over a province which in large part had been wrested from indigenous ownership through military confiscation. The Maori Village initiative was realised by a committee of local Pākehā collectors led by W. H. Skinner – those with 'an intimate knowledge of the Maori and his customs' – who were 'energetically assisted by the Maoris themselves':

The result is a very good fac-simile of many a native village in Taranaki. When the native occupant of this model temporary abiding-place is not engaged in 'home industries' or attending to the cuisine, he will periodically let himself loose, and by means of hakas and other weird dances, relieve himself of some of the exuberance of spirits which is a characteristic of our healthy, lusty copper-coloured brother.

While the project ran along similar lines to the living anthropological displays that featured at a range of international exhibitions, including the great Louisiana Purchase Exposition which had been staged that same year in St Louis, it is unlikely that New Plymouth was emulating any international precedent. Instead, the concerted Māori contribution to the settler community's festival suggests that, beyond the modest payment obtained by participating, a _tableau vivant_ projecting a utopian past could serve the interests of a Māori community in a challenging colonial present.

Thomas Edward Donne, head of the Department of Tourist and Health Resorts, attended the St Louis Exposition as commissioner of New Zealand's display, where he proudly accepted the gold medal awarded to Partridge for the loan of _Heeni Hirini and Child_ (1878) – a portrait showing the distinctive Māori child-carrying technique demonstrated at the Puketeraki carnival. Already involved in a similar development at Rotorua, and inspired by the anthropological displays at St Louis, Donne lent his support to the creation of a model pā at the New Zealand International Exhibition to be staged in Hagley Park over the summer of 1906–7. Appropriately, given his frequent advocacy of such projects, it was Augustus Hamilton who assumed responsibility for realising the romanticised reproduction of an ancient pā. Named Āraiteuru, after a migration canoe that was wrecked on the shores of the South Island, the pā was intended both as a spectacle for paying tourists and as a functioning marae on which sizeable groups of visiting Māori and smaller contingents of Pacific Islanders would make a temporary home. Māori agency in the model pā has received wide scholarly attention, including Bernie Kernot's 'Maoriland Metaphors and the Model Pa' and Margaret Orbell's 'Maori Writing about the Exhibition', both published in _Farewell Colonialism_ (1998), John Mansfield Thomson's edited volume on the exhibition. The letters and articles translated by Orbell, originally published in the Gisborne-based, Māori-language newspaper _Te Pipiwharauroa_ (The Shining Cuckoo), record the impressions and experiences of North Island Māori visitors. The bilingual editor, Rēweti Kōhere, is the presumed author of the second essay, 'Te Hui Whakakitekite Ōtautahi' ('The Exhibition Meeting at Christchurch'), an extended description of the exhibition and its contents that was apparently digested from Pākehā newspapers.

Kōhere's use of the term 'meeting' is noteworthy, for the exhibition was indeed a meeting of peoples, as much as of objects:

The word upon everyone's lips now is 'the meeting.' Go there, my friends, so that you can see the knowledge of the Pākehā, and precious things from the kingdom under the mana of which we live. . . . And if someone tires of gazing, all kinds of entertainments are there to delight the heart.

After describing the Opening Ceremony and Exhibition Ode – 'the song that took thirty-five minutes to sing' – Kōhere discusses the 'kinds of Pākehā treasures that are heaped up there'. He makes mention of 'a gold stone from Victoria' – a trophy indicating the extent of gold extracted from the colony – and from England he mentions 'the kings' coats of arms; these belong to kings living in the distant past, and others right down to the present day'. Kōhere carefully describes the model pā, Āraiteuru, which he thinks 'may be the last pā that Māori people will build', and informs his readers that '[t]he tohunga of the pā is Dr Te Rangi Hīroa'. In a footnote, Orbell comments that '[a]ppropriately, the pā had been given a name relating to South Island Māori tradition', but she makes only passing reference to the almost complete absence of participation by South Island Māori. A large contingent from Te Arawa had received a government commission to lift the tapu from the meeting house in the pā, which they bestowed with the name Ōhinemutu, after their principal settlement on Lake Rotorua. Given that their mana as tangata whenua effectively was trampled by the entire project, Ngāi Tahu understandably remained aloof.

Samuel Heath Head, _Te Arawa Group at the Christchurch Exhibition_ [Maggie Papakura third from right, Gilbert Mair in front], 1906–7, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, G-7185-1/1

At the time of the opening, James Cowan contributed an engaging description of the 'complete little Maori town – this Arai-te-uru, with its carved houses and its mat-garbed people, its defence works and its fleet of canoes, sitting on its water-front', reporting that Āraiteuru had been named by James Carroll, the Native Minister, who took ultimate responsibility for the pā. Cowan thought that an equally apt name would have been Maahunui – the canoe of Māui, the 'fisher-up' of the North Island, and a name that he claimed was revered by present-day Ngāi Tahu chiefs. Another name he offers is Ōtākaro (The Place of Tākaro), the original name of the lower Avon River and site of the city of Christchurch which, while referencing an ancient chief, also meant 'The Place of Games' or 'The Home of Amusement'. To Cowan's ear, this was far more euphonious than 'Hagley Park'. Faced with an entirely flat site, fronting on to the tiny Victoria Lake, Hamilton chose as his prototype Waitahanui, Te Heuheu's fortified pā on the shores of Lake Taupō that had been depicted by George French Angas in 1844.

James McDonald, _Group of Maori at the New Zealand International Exhibition_ , c. 1906, montaged and retouched gelatin silver photograph, 945 × 1614 mm. MUSEUM OF NEW ZEALAND TE PAPA TONGAREWA, O.028093

The master carver of the pā was Neke Kapua of Ngāti Tarāwhai, who resided at Āraiteuru for the duration of the exhibition. Cowan relates that he was the artist of the two huge pou that flanked the porch of Ōhinemutu; they were decommissioned funerary carvings that formerly stood on a sacred burial ground at Ruatō, Lake Rotoiti. Meanwhile, the poutoko-manawa, or house-post effigy – normally a deified ancestor of the community – had been obtained in Taranaki. In other words, the house was a composite, an exercise in artefactual bricolage. Other carvings, notably the enormous waharoa, or ceremonial gateway, through which visitors accessed the inner pā, were completed by Neke Kapua and his sons, Tene and Eramiha, at the Colonial Museum during the six months leading up to the exhibition. Despite close supervision, and his careful provision to the carvers of an 'authentic' prototype in the form of H. G. Robley's depiction of a monumental waharoa at Maketū Pā, Hamilton was vexed by the innovative creativity expressed by the contemporary carvers. Another waharoa and many other carvings were meanwhile produced by a Whanganui team under the leadership of Hōri Pukehika, asserting their own tribal style. The Whanganui and Te Arawa groups – decked in spectacular feather cloaks – assembled for a group portrait by James McDonald that would become one of the best-known memorials of the exhibition. The sole Pākehā in the line-up is Hamilton, embedded at centre left.

Standing within the inner pā was a carved model house on loan from T. E. Donne of the Tourist Department. Given the name Te Wharepuni-a-Māui – The Sleeping-house of Māui – and measuring only 8 by 4 metres, it was the forerunner of a series of model houses produced by Ngāti Tarāwhai carvers for Pākehā patrons. It was carved by Neke Kapua, Eramiha Kapua and Tene Waitere and included several of the naturalistic narrative compositions for which this latter carver became renowned – including Māui hauling up his great Land Fish, and an eye-catching depiction of Māui meeting his end while surreptitiously entering Hinenuitepō, the Goddess of Death.

Unidentified photographer, _Maori group before Te Wharepuni-a-Maui at the Christchurch Exhibition_ [Peter Buck second from left], 1906–7, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, PICT-000075

Steffano Francis Webb, _Interior of Te Wharepuni-a-Maui at the Model Pa, Christchurch International Exhibition_ , 1906–7, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, 1/1-5029-G

While described by Kōhere as the 'tohunga', or traditional priestly expert, Peter Buck was in fact serving as the medical superintendent on the site and had participated as one of the two Māori members of the exhibition's organising committee. Nevertheless, from the outset, the irrepressible Buck threw himself completely into the community's activities, notably donning a piupiu to join the haka of welcome to the Governor, Lord Plunket:

There, amongst the occupants of the Maori pah, was one young Maori, clad in all the glory of a Maori warrior, now leading the native dance with grimace and desperate fervour, now seated [at] the centre of an admiring group of natives and visitors giving exhibitions of tattooing – always on the move, restless ever, yet seeking to infuse habits of health and industry into his people.

Buck is identifiable within photographic _tableaux_ made at the exhibition, including posing as a tohunga tā moko, or tattooing practitioner. In view of his subsequent career as a Pacific ethnologist, Buck's involvement with the multi-tribal assembly at Christchurch – which included groups from the Cook Islands, Niuē and Fiji – must have provided a formative experience.

The other Māori member of the committee was J. H. W. (Henry) Te Uru. From Kaiapoi, Te Uru belonged to Ngāi Tahu but, rather than representing his iwi, may have been more intent on ensuring his own participation as the leading curio dealer at the exhibition. Mary Kennington, the recently remarried widow of James Butterworth who had transported her stock from New Plymouth, was Te Uru's principal business rival. A considerable number of Māori and Pacific Island artefacts, some of considerable antiquity, were displayed at various locations within the exhibition buildings. However, the significant role played by taonga within traditional encounters was witnessed when, in an impressive ceremony, an ancient adze named Te Aumapu was carried on to the marae by representatives from Aitutaki, Rarotonga and Mangaia – islands collectively referred to as Hawaiki by their Māori hosts. This was reputed to be the very adze that centuries earlier had cut down the great tree that formed the migration canoe _Tākitimu_ , on which the ancestors of Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Kahungunu and Ngāi Tahu had travelled to Aotearoa. To assert this provenance, the Cook Islanders performed the karakia, or ceremonial incantation, that had been handed down with the adze from their ancestor, Teerui. Connecting past with present, and the living with the dead, this ancient relic helped to cement relationships between the Māori hosts and their Pacific relatives, who were termed 'tuākana' (elder siblings).

Visitors to the Fine Art Gallery were also encouraged to ponder the mysterious prehistory of the Māori settlers. Hanging in the colonial art section was Kennett Watkins' imposing painting _The Departure of Six Canoes for New Zealand from Rarotonga_ , _A.D. 1350_ (1906) [see p. 63]. The Pacific migration canoe had become a consuming interest for Watkins, who lectured on the topic to the Auckland Institute and in 1908 published an extended essay, 'The Canoe that Brought the Maori to New Zealand'. As the title of his painting indicates, Watkins embraced S. Percy Smith's postulation of a Great Fleet that arrived in the mid-fourteenth century, a date that Smith arrived at by averaging the generations within genealogies preserved by a multiplicity of tribes. The exhibition of Watkins' painting at such a well-attended exhibition undoubtedly helped to disseminate a myth so potent that it was embraced by Māori themselves. Cementing his status as visualiser of this new orthodoxy, Watkins followed up with an even grander painting, _The Legend of the Voyage to New Zealand_ [see p. 64] – Auckland Society of Arts' 'Picture of the Year' in 1912 – which together with the _Departure_ painting was presented to the Auckland Art Gallery in 1914. Apart from codifying the mythology of the Fleet, Smith's _Hawaiki: The Whence of the Maori_ (1898) was also responsible for proposing India as the original Māori homeland. As we have seen in the writings of Dr Newman, it was a short step to the proclamation of Māori as 'Caucasian' – an ethnological fantasy that became widely diffused in this period. A diverting example is found in an _Evening Post_ article on the model pā at Christchurch:

Science seems to have discovered that the Maoris are not Maoris at all, just as the ancient Angles, the forebears of some of us, were rather Angels, according to Augustine. Most people have been in the habit of believing that the Maori was classed with the Malay in the brown group of the world's races, but the latest authorities declare that the Maori is an Aryan, a pakeha, in fact, in a sort of accidental disguise, the work of the sun during a migration east from Caucasian country, or thereabouts, through hot lands to the Antipodes.

As in the case of Newman, absurd conclusions came as part of this territory: 'This new research gives thoughtful people a thrilling subject for meditation. If we – the Angles, Saxons, Jutes, and Celts – had gone east and the Maoris had gone west, they might have sent out a Captain Cook to discover us, or we might have despatched a Maui to conquer them in the British Isles.'

### **MODEL PĀ: EXPLOITING THE IDEALISED PAST**

At the 1897 conference of the Te Aute College Students' Association, Rēweti Kōhere lectured on 'A Model Pa'. 'He began his paper by saying that his model pa was not in existence, but he thought it was not altogether in the land of Utopia.' Kōhere is here intending 'model' in the sense of 'exemplary' or 'perfect', as opposed to 'replica' or 'reproduction'. The architectural and sanitary reforms of the Young Maori Party, effected under the Maori Councils Act 1900, ran counter to the touristic imperative for the quaint and picturesque. Tourists arrived at sites such as Rotorua in search of a timeless romantic past, only to find that the dilapidated traditional whare were being replaced by characterless weatherboard structures raised in Pākehā style above the ground. Paradoxically, while expecting to enjoy modern comforts themselves, tourists preferred to view natives revelling in 'authentic', pre-modern conditions. It was the architectural equivalent of the disappointment provoked by the sight of Māori wearing 'contaminated' modern clothing. As the photographer Josiah Martin insisted in 1902, undoubtedly echoing touristic desire: 'We want photographs of Maori people in their primitive costumes, and with primitive surroundings.' Martin offered a prize of one guinea for the best set of three photographs of native life, 'if possible without any European accessories'.

As early as 1899, Augustus Hamilton proposed the establishment at Rotorua of a 'small model pa, constructed in every respect like one in the olden time':

[L]et it be inhabited during the tourist season by approved natives, who should be required to wear, at any rate, some semblance of Maori dress and to conform to Maori customs. The main idea being to eliminate pakeha pots, pigs and petticoats. There should be at or near the pa a small building devoted to a select typical collection of Maori weapons, mats, photos, etc., and at which boxes, etc., decorated with native carving could be bought, but no imitation curios, unless it was found desirable to have replicas made for sale of weapons or implements, in which case they should bear an impressed stamp to the effect that they were 'copies' or models.

In response to such exhortation and to strengthen the appeal of Rotorua, the Tourist Department decided to build a replica of a palisaded fighting pā in the government reserve at Whakarewarewa. Between 1902 and 1910, a cohort of Rotorua carvers worked intermittently on the project, theoretically using photographs published in Hamilton's _Maori Art_ (1901) as references for the new work. It was the innovative nature of Tene Waitere's waharoa, adorned with male and female embracing figures, that provoked the ire of Augustus Hamilton, Elsdon Best and Gilbert Mair. Teipu [Te Ipu] Tarakawa, a Te Arawa chief and tohunga, weighed in with a Māori perspective on what was wrong with the pā. Tarakawa also condemned the gateway – 'evidently manufactured to attract pakeha attention and admiration, but, in truth, only a caricature of a real Maori gateway (waharoa)'. For Tarakawa, the basic problem was structural rather than decorative. The pā resembled neither the hilltop fortress of pre-contact Māori warfare, nor the innovative structures that evolved during the era of the musket; instead, it approximated a 'redoubt of the pakeha' or a large stockyard. 'It is too straight, square, rectangular, and level, and the peculiar method of work so characteristic of the Maori is nowhere to be seen.' Tarakawa cited two pā that he had witnessed under construction in the 1850s, which had been superintended by his father. 'I then learnt how a pa should be built, and besides having seen other pas of the old style am competent to testify that the enclosure at Whakarewarewa, which is being built by Government authority, is not a true representation of a Maori pa.'

Roger Neich highlights the outrage triggered by Tene's palisade posts, which – in keeping with the injunction to follow the 'old-time' style of carving – frankly represented the genitalia of the challenging figures. The 'indecency' of Māori carvings provoked constant complaint from Pākehā, but these examples also stimulated protest from local Māori. Te Aute old boy the Rev. Frederick Bennett, Maori Missioner to Rotorua, headed a petition of protest from 'members of the Maori race residing at Whakarewarewa and Ohinemutu' that was submitted to the Minister of Tourist and Health Resorts, 'to call attention to the indecent carved figures that have been erected':

. . . we feel that these figures do not represent our Maori Art to our pakeha visitors, nor do we desire that they should do so, in the interests therefore of ourselves and our children and of our pakeha visitors and of the purity and refinement of the community generally, we earnestly beg that you will have these objectionable figures removed as soon as possible.

Donne claimed that, once the Minister determined that the offensive figures should be censored, he received anguished letters from chiefs 'composed in such injured tones that I should have been justified in concluding that it was the chiefs themselves who were to be emasculated. They were, however, only solicitous for the happiness of their ancestors, believing that an image contains a measure of the spirit of the person typified.' When it came to the crunch, it seems that corporeal integrity trumped prurient censorship. An _Evening Post_ journalist asserted that 'puritans' had objected to some of the carvings in Christchurch, but that the authorities 'determined to hold out against the remonstrances of the over-captious'. Nevertheless, close inspection of the waharoa created by Neke Kapua for Āraiteuru – which now stands in pride of place on the threshold of Te Papa – reveals clear traces of a total emasculation visited on the principal central figure, under which every visitor to the inner pā was compelled to pass. Could Neke – who was one of the cohort of carvers at the Whakarewarewa model pā – have intentionally provoked Hamilton with the strategic inclusion of an 'old-time' _membrum virile_?

Responsibility for designing the pā had been given to Alfred Warbrick, a sub-inspector with the Tourist Department. Of mixed Pākehā and Tūhourangi descent, Warbrick lacked the personal knowledge of warfare and fortifications of his elder, Tarakawa. War veteran Captain Gilbert Mair was another critic of the project who pronounced: 'Everything is wrong, and nothing right.' The palisade fences were reversed, the gateways were wrong, and – echoing Tarakawa – Mair condemned the extreme regularity of construction: 'One of the greatest attractions of an ancient Pa, consisted in its infinite shape and variety, no two sticks, posts or figures being the same in height or appearance.' Mair's most serious accusation concerned the desecration of a historical site. As historian Margaret McClure explains:

The worst mistake had been the first: in an endeavour to reconstruct history, the actual remnants of the site's true history had been removed and an ancient landmark destroyed. To erect the new pa, Warbrick's workers had razed the original foundations (sixteen generations old) of the 'classical historical pa' of Te Rotowhio. They had levelled the interior area, ignored the advantage of the uneven ground and taken down the old pa walls.

While the 'authenticity' of Hamilton's Āraiteuru was also debated, the Christchurch project had wreaked no equivalent damage on an important archaeological site. When Āraiteuru closed in 1907, the model pā at Whakarewarewa inherited its carved houses, pātaka and palisade posts; by the following year, several families had moved in and the pā assumed its destiny as one of Rotorua's leading touristic diversions. Regardless of its purported inauthenticity, the model pā and its eye-catching, photogenic gateway would become one of the best-known of all Māori sites in New Zealand.

The symbolic importance of the model pā was not lost on the younger generation of Māori politicians. In 1912, responding to a contentious Bill that proposed to dispossess Ngāti Whātua of their land in order to create a model suburb at Ōrākei, Māui Pōmare suggested that '[a]n exact parallel to the Bill . . . would be a proposal by the natives to establish a model pa in the Auckland Domain'. At the close of the parliamentary session, Peter Buck entertained the House with a 'skit', 'The Auckland Domain Model Pa Bill' – 'a measure', he explained, 'to restore all the grandeur and splendour of the neolithic age, and to do away with this cursed civilisation'. An impression of the parodic entertainment is suggested by the opening salvoes:

In this Act, where not inconsistent with the context, 'Auckland Domain' or 'Domain' shall mean such part or parts of the Auckland City as may be selected by the Natives for the purpose of this Act.

'Natives' mean and include members of the House of Representatives, Rangatiras, wahines, hapus and common or garden tangatas of the aboriginal race of New Zealand, and include half, three-quarter, five-eighths, and full castes, but shall not include any wahines registered under the Barmaids Registration Act or its amendments.

'Tikis' mean and include ticks, fleas, bugs, and beetles, and include also hei-tiki whether actually in hay, corn, or o[t]her cereals, but shall not include taniwhas or blue-taipos, the product of waipiro [alcohol].

This highly diverting performance of bicultural satire was hugely enjoyed by parliamentarians and visitors' gallery alike.

Calls from Māori advocates for the construction of model pā continued throughout the twentieth century. In the late 1920s, for example, George Graham and Leslie Kelly of the Akarana Maori Association proposed the reconstruction of an old-time fighting pā on Maungawhau (Mount Eden) – a historic fortification of the eclipsed Waiohua people – that might serve simultaneously as a memorial, a tourist attraction, and a place where important visitors to Auckland might be welcomed. James Cowan was a passionate supporter, reminding Aucklanders that S. Percy Smith had made a similar proposal in the 1890s, when Chief Surveyor and president of the Auckland Institute. Deciding on the northern slopes of Mount Eden, the association engaged a Cambridge University-educated Māori engineer, Pāora Chamberlain, to undertake a preliminary survey. The resulting report carefully emphasised that the project would enhance rather than destroy the original site:

It is a large knoll still bearing traces of ancient occupation in the form of trenches and mounds once used in the construction of dwellings and stockades. Perhaps the most interesting feature of the plan is that all these historic remains will be incorporated in the building scheme, so that the reproduced pa will amount to an actual restoration of the old fortifications long since crumbled into decay.

An 'irregular-shaped stockade' would enclose a large carved meeting house that faced the rising sun, together with sleeping houses, food store and 'a wahi tapu, or sacred cenotaph, from which the tohungas conducted their ceremonials'. Echoing Augustus Hamilton three decades earlier, the designers stated that the carving 'should be copied by native craftsmen from old examples of real carving, and that the tendency among contemporary Maori carvers to submit to modern influences should be resisted'. The estimated cost was £3,000.

Accompanied by the mayor of Mount Eden and several councillors, Sir Āpirana Ngata inspected the plans for the pā and visited the slopes of Maungawhau. He thoroughly approved the choice of site, making suggestions regarding the timber to be used and how – in order to placate insurance companies – traditional thatching might be simulated by imitation straw tiles. Typically, Ngata foresaw a great Māori gathering to mark the opening ceremony. The most distinguished living carver, Tene Waitere, with two nephews and a group of novice carvers, meanwhile offered their artistic services to the project. What then stymied this well-researched and enthusiastically supported proposal?

A lukewarm editorial in the _Herald_ contrasted the 'relatively small replica of a defensive enclosure' with the vast historic stronghold that had covered the entire hill. Landscape preservationists meanwhile objected to any tampering with the 'natural' contours of an exceptional landform, while others suggested that the planned pā would be at the mercy of 'prowlers and vandals'. A more pressing objection was raised by a vehement critic writing as 'Hands Off Mount Eden': 'Why destroy all this [natural beauty] by the introduction of a Maori pa with its attendant occupants and the concomitants that are a feature of the social and domestic life of our Maori brethren?' In other words, Māori were not welcome to erect and populate a memorial on such a renowned beauty spot, overlooking the patrician villas of Mount Eden. In support of such a view, the _Herald_ cartoonist Trevor Lloyd – whose own recently built house, the architecturally significant Whare Tane, was nestled in the shade of Maungawhau – contributed a 'before and after' pair of images: 'The Glorious View from the Top of Mount Eden To-day' and 'The Same View as it May Be To-morrow'. In the latter, the 'glorious view' is occluded by the pā's palisades, which are complete with malodorous drying sharks and other stereotypical pre-modern minutiae from Lloyd's satirical armoury. Despite the elaborate planning and intensive consultation with North Island iwi, and regardless of the support offered by the carvers as well as the leading Māori parliamentarian, this longed-for 'memorial to the Maori past' would remain an unfulfilled dream.

Trevor Lloyd, _The Glorious View from the Top of Mount Eden To-day_ and _The Same View as It May Be To-morrow_ , 205 × 217 mm, _New Zealand Herald_ , 2 June 1928, p. 13. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF SIR GEORGE GREY SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, AUCKLAND CITY LIBRARIES

As in the case of portraiture, which decidedly fulfilled Māori as well as Pākehā ends, the idealisations involved in re-creating ancient pā served an intricately interconnected variety of purposes that encompassed both commemorative and touristic dimensions. Tūhoe's model fighting pā named Kiritahi, erected beside Mataatua Marae at Ruatāhuna, was an entirely Māori initiative that opened with a great hui in March 1906 – eight months ahead of the opening of Āraiteuru at Christchurch. According to the notice published in _Te Pipiwharauroa_ , its purpose was 'to commemorate the practices of the past and to bring together the survivors of the tribes who remain at a distance', as well as to revitalise the knowledge and authority that had vanished 'in these days of the pakeha'. Another, less-advertised hope was to attract tourists and thereby share in the riches that Tūhoe could see accruing to Te Arawa with the appropriation of Rotorua as a touristic wonderland. However, despite the attendance of the Native Minister James Carroll, along with other Members of Parliament, the necessary road construction failed to materialise. Newspaper coverage of the event suggests that access to Tūhoe land for gold prospectors was the foremost government concern at the time.

Inspired by Cowan's paternalistic history of the exhibition, postcolonial analysts have characterised the Christchurch model pā as an imperial stage on which Māori were obliged to entertain the tourists. This overlooks the fact that Māori visitors, when not fulfilling the scheduled duties such as performing the haka and poi dances for which they received payment, were themselves tourists at the exhibition. Plentiful evidence suggests that the Māori residents relished enacting their traditional culture at the pā, as when Ngāti Kahungunu executed a 'realistic' sham battle as entertainment for exhibition visitors:

All the women folk will be put inside the model pa and will be protected by a number of men while an attacking force will storm and take the pa. The combat will be carried out on Maori lines, and with Maori weapons, and Europeans will be given a very good idea of Maori war.

The gruesome aftermath of authentic ancient warfare was felicitously omitted from the performance, for '[a]fter the pa has been taken peace will be declared, hakas, pois, and peace dances will be shown, and the Maoris will sing songs of joy'. By the same token, the presence of Māori who remained aloof from the performances was noted by British commissioner John Gorst:

There were one or two young men, not of the 'haka,' who wore English dress and spoke in English fashion, and wished us to know that there was a race of young Maories [sic] now springing up who were desirous of attaining the knowledge and civilization which the white men's schools and colleges could teach them and were ambitious of seeing their race become in every respect the equals of the Europeans, and taking part in the government and administration of the country.

In twenty-first-century New Zealand, claimants placing historical grievances before the Waitangi Tribunal routinely carry ancestral portraits into tribunal hearings – pageantry for the benefit of media, undoubtedly, but revealing also of the centrality of portraiture in the Māori world as well as of the ways taonga are deployed to bridge past and present. As Bernie Kernot observes of the Young Maori Party, '[w]hile promoting reforms, they were also constructing an idealised image of the past, not so much as an escape from present realities but as a means of encouraging the people to think positively of themselves. Idealising the past was a way of promoting a better future.' A similar argument is mounted by historian Giselle Byrnes in relation to the construction of history found in the reports of the Waitangi Tribunal, which she consigns to the sub-genre of 'fantasy history': 'Tribunal narratives construct idealised pasts in order to critique the present and its attendant excesses, problems and weaknesses. . . . The emphasis placed on the idealised past is an implicit, and at times direct, criticism of the present, and the attendant need for an improved future.'

From the idealisation and commemoration of past glories, we turn to a consideration of colonialism's rapacious impact on the gifting and collecting culture of the Māori world. The gift was at the heart of Polynesian customary hospitality, whereby mana was measured by how much could be given, rather than received. Such gifts came with obligations and were intended to be ceremonially returned or re-gifted on auspicious occasions – practices that can be glimpsed in Gilbert Mair's documentation of his extraordinary collection of taonga. The Pākehā commodification of the curio instead transformed taonga into collectibles, stripping artefacts of meaning and blocking the reciprocation that lay at the heart of the system. Mair received his most important items as gifts from a grateful tribe, whose survival he had ensured, but their ultimate destination was the museum. We survey the ways in which curios were obtained by collectors, including outright theft from sacred sites, and consider the impact of such widespread abuses on Māori attitudes towards the museum, which were considerably more conflicted than the current chapter has allowed.

William Williams, _Displays at the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, Napier_ , c. 1888, scan from dry-plate glass negative. E. R. WILLIAMS COLLECTION, ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, 1/1-25795-G

## CHAPTER FIVE

## _The Curio Economy_

WHAT HAPPENS TO YOUR STUFF when you die? In the Māori world, it was common for 'stuff' to be consigned to the other world – the domain of the dead – through the institution of tapu. This is the process that unfolded at Maungakawa, the last residence of King Tāwhiao, who died there on 24 August 1894. Apart from occasional use for memorials to the dead monarch, Tāwhiao's political and ceremonial centre near Cambridge was abandoned by his son, King Mahuta, in favour of a new centre at Waahi, near Huntly. A 1905 account of a visit to the desolate ruins describes Pākehā adventurers evading surveillance and freely exploring the decaying houses, including examining the household property they still contained. Rumour had it that the king's body lay underneath the floor of his whare, or else in a secret burial place in nearby hills. According to the writer, following the burial on Taupiri 'his people secretly removed his body to the hills and laid it away with their own weird ceremonies in a place unknown to the pakeha'. The king's whare remained in good condition and, despite exposure to the elements, the intruders insisted that there was no sign of theft or vandalism. 'Tawhiao is dust', intoned the writer, 'but his home is as he lived in it. The strange power of the tapu is on it.'

The great council house of the Kauhanganui, a Pākehā-type hall ornamented with Māori carvings, stood apart from the traditional whare. Silent and empty, it too had been abandoned, together with all its contents:

The dais at the end of the hall, where the king sat in state, is a curious mixture of Maori and European art. The front is ornamented with Maori carving, and looped across this is some tawdry drapery of pakeha manufacture; while on either side hang curtains of the same origin. In the centre of the dais is the king's throne, and on a small table in front of it is his hat. Yes, the Maori chieftain wore a hat, and a grey bell-topper at that. It decidedly jars on one's sense of the fitness of things, as does the iron safe down by the steps which lead up to the dais.

At the head of these same steps, on the wall, hangs King Tawhiao's sword-belt. Behind the throne hang two portraits, notably one in watercolour of the late Hone Heke. Opening out of the hall on one side are two rooms, in one of which is a printing press. Both, like the hall, are in a state of utmost confusion, and littered with papers. In the centre of the hall, suspended from the roof, is a table, which, like the table on the dais and like the floor, is strewn with documents and papers of every description.

In addition to the image of Hōne Heke – presumably a depiction by Joseph Merrett of the famous rebel from the 1840s – the writer mentions 'two portraits of Maori chiefs who, robed in flax mats, look solemnly down on the deserted, echoing hall, where the dust lies thick over everything'.

In February 1908 the abandoned pā of Maungakawa was engulfed in a bush fire lit by a neighbouring settler. King Tāwhiao's throne and crown, both 'beautifully carved, the latter being inlaid with greenstone', were reduced to ashes together with all the other relics. From the perspective of Augustus Hamilton and the ethnological preservationists, it was an unmitigated disaster. Newspapers throughout the Dominion ruefully reported that the guardians had recently refused an offer of £800 for the contents of the council house, as well as a proposal from Native Minister James Carroll to place them in the Dominion Museum. Yet for those who held firm to more ancient attitudes towards the preservation and ultimate destiny of material remains, attitudes determined by Māori principles of tapu and tikanga (customary protocols), the destruction may well have been understood as pre-ordained. Maungakawa, with its memorials of Tāwhiao's reign, had truly been consigned to the other world.

Thomas Pringle, _Puawai o Te Arawa, Maori Hall, Auckland Museum_ , c. 1905, scan from dry-plate glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, 1/1-7041-G

Māori diffidence in relation to the rise of museums was connected to fundamental notions of tikanga – 'correct' procedure. To imprison objects in glass cases may have seemed wrong, but what about when museum displays contained ancient burial chests wrenched from the wāhi tapu in which they had been ritually interred? This was very prominently the case in the Maori Hall of the Auckland Museum, where an early-twentieth-century photograph by Thomas Pringle documents the central position accorded to the waka tūpāpaku, or carved bone chests, that the curator, Thomas Cheeseman, triumphantly obtained from Hokianga in 1902. To collect such tapu objects for the purposes of public exhibition was completely alien to Māori sensibilities, even when the practice was applied to material from other cultures. For example, having assiduously inspected the treasures of the British Museum for several days during their 1884 sojourn in London, King Tāwhiao and his entourage were so profoundly shocked by the display of Egyptian mummies that they immediately departed from the museum, never to return. Walter Buller regarded his Māori 'tomb' – so proudly exhibited at London in 1886 and Paris in 1889 – as one of the greatest of his ethnological trophies. But what did it really mean for Pākehā collectors to 'own' such items, and for museums to receive them?

In an address to the Otago Institute that elaborated on his circular regarding the National Maori Museum, Hamilton spoke of his intentions to induce 'the leading people of the various Maori tribes and families to regard the museum as a kind of national safe deposit where tribal heirlooms would be taken better care of, with less risk from fire, etc., than under ordinary circumstances'. He also recognised the urgency of collecting historical documents and records relating to Māori history, and mentioned his correspondence with Sir George Grey concerning the fate of the Māori manuscripts that the latter had deposited at Cape Town. Hamilton pointed in particular to the extraordinary status of objects that had been designated as tapu through association with individuals and events:

Think of the memories attached to relics such as the old Tower musket now in the Auckland Museum, given by George IV to Hongi Heke [Hika] in 1820, and which Hongi affectionately called Patu iwi, 'Slay the people.' This was used by him in the battles of Ika-ranganui, Mokoia, and Matakitaki, and many other lesser engagements. Being very tapu this relic survived when many other historical weapons disappeared.

Hamilton admitted that such items were difficult to handle and 'as a rule, very undesirable objects to the curator of a museum'. Potent, cross-cultural artefacts presented obvious challenges within an ethnological museum that was charged primarily with representing 'The Maori As He Was', as Elsdon Best's 1924 book title succinctly termed it. Hamilton's approach was to regard such items as '"documents" bearing upon a very difficult and intricate history', thereby opening the collection to evocative artefacts such as Māori war flags and historical weapons. One such article that Augustus Hamilton welcomed into the museum was deposited in 1908 by Māui Pōmare: the remains of the antiquated armour that was presented by King William IV to the Ngāpuhi traveller Tītore in 1835.

_Armour Presented to Titore_ , photolithograph, 238 × 150 mm, _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , vol. 42, 1910, plate 8. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

We now chart the various means – both fair and foul – by which taonga moved from Māori into Pākehā possession. These ranged from ceremonial gifting – their natural mode of transmission – through to buying and selling, excavation and outright robbery. Intriguing interconnections exist between royal gifts, fake artefacts, and the Maori Antiquities Act that from 1901 attempted to regulate the burgeoning international trade. What emerges from the discussion is the relentlessness with which taonga were stripped from the Māori world, and the centrality of curio collecting within the colonial ethnological culture. This was a milieu in which possession of remarkable objects not only provided immense cachet obtained through public exhibition and recognition, but also delivered the connoisseurship required to distinguish authentic items from their fraudulent lookalikes. Augustus Hamilton's status as an ethnological expert was solidly based on the superb Māori collection that he displayed in turn at the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, and within many plates of his magisterial publication, _Maori Art_ (1901). The authority of H. D. Skinner, New Zealand's first university anthropologist, was similarly grounded in the formation and deployment of a sizeable Māori collection that commenced when, as a boy, he fossicked on the beaches of Taranaki with his curio-hound father, W. H. Skinner. Characteristically, Hamilton and Skinner would donate their collections to New Zealand institutions – the Dominion Museum in the case of Hamilton, and the Taranaki Museum for Skinner.

### **HEIRLOOMS: TAONGA TUKU IHO**

As noted earlier, ancestral treasures from Europe and elsewhere played prominent roles in curio displays within the popular exhibitions staged by New Zealand settler communities. At Gisborne's Art, Curio and Industrial Exhibition, a December 1909 fund-raiser for the local brass band, it was asserted that almost every country was represented by 'some antiquated relic'. There was the 'gilt image of Buddha and a Persian rose water sprinkler 300 years old' lent by the Misses Yates, and sixteenth-century German maps 'originally brought from Germany by one of Mr Lysnar's ancestors'. The Māori display at Gisborne in 1909 – declared to be 'undoubtedly a feature of the exhibition' – was the initiative of the local Māori elite, which revealed a keen understanding of the competitive possibilities offered by the deployment of ancestral taonga:

The collection of Maori mats, kits and relics is undoubtedly the finest that has been displayed in Gisborne for many years. It includes many treasured heirlooms, articles that have been handed down for generations. Mrs Carroll, H. Te Kani Pere, Otene Pitau, Te Make, and Mr Hooper are the chief exhibitors, and the former's collection includes a meremere estimated to be close upon 1000 years old, and the genealogy of its original owner (an ancestor of Mrs Carroll) can be traced down to the present day.

Pākehā may have termed them 'curios', but for Māori these were taonga tuku iho – heirlooms handed down from ancestors and therefore objects that provided palpable connections with the past. Taonga were consequently the most significant and symbolic of all possible gifts, which in the Māori world were passed on together with their kōrero, or provenance, and a duty of reciprocation. In Pākehā parlance, taonga were referred to as Māori relics or Māori curios; in the following discussion, the word 'curio' is used in order to underline the fundamental change of status that occurs when a taonga crosses a cultural threshold to become something else.

Taonga had served as gift and trade items with Europeans since the period of Cook's visits and, prized as 'artificial curiosities', became widely dispersed through Northern Hemisphere collections. It was organised colonisation in the mid-nineteenth century that completed the transformation of Māori objects into curios. Taonga that passed into Pākehā hands, even when they remained in the country, effectively became alienated and commodified objects that were open to be exhibited and sold at the owner's whim or convenience. Especially if the mode of acquisition were irregular, taonga could shrug off their provenance to become generic examples of Māori art, as opposed to individual pieces with historical meaning. Undeniably, the best way of acquiring a Māori curio was to receive an ancestral taonga as a gift from its Māori custodian, together with its kōrero or history, as the mark of an important occasion. High social status and significant ceremonial interaction with the Māori world were the _sine qua non_ of this type of collecting, and the paradigmatic figures of the colonial period are Sir George Grey and Captain Gilbert Mair.

Ceremonial gifts to the 'Kāwana' generated the Māori collections amassed by Grey over his two tenures as governor. The first and more significant of these, comprising over 100 objects, was donated by Grey to the British Museum in 1854 and provides a backbone for the Māori holdings of this central encyclopaedic collection of the Anglophone world. He donated the second Māori collection to the Auckland Art Gallery in 1887, together with his European Old Master paintings, but the Māori objects were eventually relocated to the Auckland Museum. It was common knowledge that high government office presented rich collecting prospects, with agents such as Native Land Court judges recognised as avid collectors who took advantage of their access to Māori communities. This was highlighted by a _Wanganui Herald_ editorial in 1901, which addressed the debate around regulating the trade in Māori 'relics':

[T]he greatest number of such interesting objects find their way into the hands of government employees, whose knowledge of Maori history enables them to select the most valuable specimens, whilst their official position gives them greater opportunities and facilities for acquiring them than falls to the lot of the ordinary collector.

Important pieces were routinely accepted as personal property, despite the protagonists' awareness that the Māori donors regarded them as gifts to the Crown – that is, as significant memorials of the occasions. This occurred when Pūkākī, the celebrated gateway carving depicting an important Ngāti Whakaue ancestor, was gifted by the tribe to the Crown on 2 October 1877 to mark an agreement concerning the development of the township of Rotorua. Received by Judge F. D. Fenton of the Native Land Court, Pūkākī was transmitted to Fenton's friend, Justice T. B. Gillies of the Auckland Institute, who in turn arranged for its reception on 9 October by the Auckland Museum. The curator, Thomas Cheeseman, named Gillies as the 'donor' of the colossal carving. As Paul Tapsell observes in his 'biography' of Pūkākī: 'In the space of ten days, Pukaki – revered taonga presented between Treaty partners as a symbol of trust regarding Rotorua development – had become a private curio donated to the Auckland Museum by an absolute stranger to our tribe.' Tapsell's succinct summary stresses the dramatic shift in status and meaning that accompanied Pūkākī's translation into a museum object.

John Crombie, _Pukaki from the Pah at Ohinemutu, Rotorua, at the Auckland Museum_ , c. 1878, albumen photograph, 205 × 132 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF THE GOW FAMILY, 1994

Ceremonial gifting provided the foundation of Captain Gilbert Mair's renowned collection, discussed in Chapter One as a centrepiece of the Māori display at the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, which entered the Auckland Museum as a loan collection in 1891 and was finally purchased in 1902 through the public subscription of £1,000. Mair's hunger for ancient taonga was placated by gifts from his adopted iwi of Ngāti Whakaue, whom he had protected from a potentially devastating attack by Te Kooti's forces in 1870. He knew that a remarkable provenance contributed crucially to the value of an artefact and made sure to preserve the kōrero associated with the major pieces in his collection. By becoming their historian, and ensuring that this documentation entered the museum together with the objects themselves, Mair laid the groundwork for re-engagement by Te Arawa and other iwi with their ancestral taonga – reconnections that are vividly described by Paul Tapsell in _Ko Tawa_ , the catalogue of a travelling exhibition that was drawn from the collection made by the man known to Māori as 'Tawa'.

Josiah Martin's photographs of Mair's collection displayed in the Auckland Museum in fact reveal a collection padded with many modern pieces. The latter include a sizeable number of whalebone carvings by Jacob Heberley, a Petone-based artist from a Cook Strait Māori whaling family who specialised in producing work for the Pākehā market. It is worth reflecting on the differences between these photographs by Martin and the staged symmetricality of his earlier work, _'The Old Order Changeth'_ (c. 1885) [see p. 16]. Anthropologist and historian of photography Elizabeth Edwards argues that, despite the 'scientific' dressing of the museum photographs, 'many of Martin's photographs of Maori carving simultaneously delight in the textures and craftsmanship and signify cultural difference and the rhetoric of the "primitive"'. Apart from the disposition of objects into taxonomic groupings, the prominent labels speak of institutional display and even allow reading across the centuries. For example, the carved gourd on the right below – almost certainly another work by Heberley – is labelled 'Ipu Tangata: Calabash for serving up human flesh at a feast'. This museum display style is distinct from the claustrophobic trophy mode seen in Martin's _'The Old Order Changeth'_ and similar works by John R. Morris, which was in turn echoed in colonial museum practice. Note, for example, how taxonomic arrangement is subordinated to the symmetrical regularity of a trophy-style display in Augustus Hamilton's installation of the museum of the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute. Some trophy-style compositions look suspiciously like shop displays, such as the Pulman Studio's widely distributed _Maori Curios_ , while others such as Samuel Drew's arrangement of his collection at Whanganui draw convincingly on the ancient roots of the trophy as military spoil. (See _A Quaint Collection_ , overleaf.) One of Martin's images of Mair's collection particularly stands out for the aestheticised arrangement of several prized pieces, including a carved Madonna and Child that was reputedly spurned by the Roman Catholic priest for whom it was carved.

Josiah Martin, _Maori Artefacts in the Auckland Museum_ [showing the Gilbert Mair Collection, with modern combs], c. 1890, albumen photograph, 153 × 205 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B10.16, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

Josiah Martin, _Maori Artefacts in the Auckland Museum_ [showing the Gilbert Mair Collection, with heitiki], c. 1890, albumen photograph, 150s × 206 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, PACOLL-1893-11

The turn-of-the-century press paid close attention to the gifts that Māori lavished on visiting foreign dignitaries. The most spectacular of such occasions was staged at Rotorua during the 1901 tour of the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York when, before 4000 representatives from all the tribes, Māori leaders performed a competitive orgy of gift presentation before the royal couple. The theatrical episode heightened the sense of urgency surrounding legislative regulation to staunch the flood of curios departing the country, which was finally realised in the Maori Antiquities Act passed in that same year. Many thought that Their Highnesses had flouted Māori custom by failing to gracefully return the heirlooms. More sceptical observers queried whether the royal couple had indeed received piles of ancient treasures, suggesting instead that the sumptuous offerings consisted largely of relatively worthless, modern replicas.

William Williams, _Museum of the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute_ , c. 1888, scan from dry-plate glass negative. E. R. WILLIAMS COLLECTION, ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, 1/1-25853-G

_A Quaint Collection of Maori Gods, Weapons, Implements and Carvings_ , photolithograph, 295 × 405 mm, _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1906, p. 28. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1572-28

Josiah Martin, _Maori Artefacts in the Auckland Museum_ [showing the Gilbert Mair Collection, with Madonna and Child], albumen photograph, 152 × 204 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B10.24, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

### **DIGGING AND LOOTING**

A prevalent method of acquiring curios was opportunistic excavation by fossickers, who saw the ancient Māori land as a quarry open to treasure hunting. The discovery of buried treasure was perpetually newsworthy, and the newspaper columns of the later nineteenth and early twentieth centuries documented the widespread excavation of Māori objects. These ranged from small-scale ornaments such as greenstone heitiki, to sizeable wood carvings such as Dr Newman's greatest treasure, the Ngāti Whātua carving he identified as an 'eel god' which had been uncovered in a farmer's field near Auckland. Curio hunting and collecting developed into a widespread leisure pastime, considered appropriate even for schoolchildren, and displays of Māori curios are documented in photographs of settler sitting rooms.

Amateur antiquarian diggers proudly recounted their exploits in local newspapers, usually in the guise of advice to prospective fossickers. Alfred Reynolds was a Dunedin-based natural history enthusiast who wrote under a Māori pen-name, Aparata Renata – perhaps to claim legitimacy despite the clear evidence that it was written by a Pākehā. Three revealing articles from 1892, 'In Search of Maori Idols and Stone Age Implements', detailed the results of 'four years of constant fossicking' that had been conducted during sociable holiday outings. Reynolds claims that the inspiration for this activity were the Māori collections exhibited at the great Dunedin exhibition of 1889–90, and news reports concerning the booming market for Māori curios: 'Settlers have a better idea since the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition was held of the value of Maori adzes, &c., and their selling value adds to the care they now take of them.' Beyond the intrinsic value of the curios, Reynolds argued that their pursuit offered additional benefits, both physical and intellectual:

The occupation of a fossicker for stone age implements is certainly healthy, and gives plenty of food for thought, and induces the study of a past race and man's struggle to better his position and acquire the comforts and necessaries of life. . . . My only hope in writing this is that many young people may be induced to study in this manner.

These intellectual and recreational rationales barely mask a sorry tale of archaeological pillage, the intensity of which is exposed in stark detail. At one particularly favoured site, digging spots had been sieved to a depth of 2 metres and in consequence could offer few finds. In the final article, Reynolds flaunts his connoisseurship by warning collectors about the 'spurious stone age implements' that were circulating in the local market. He asserts that his essays were written for the benefit of 'fossickers, collectors, historians, and those interested in the genius, industry, and perseverance of the finest race of savages in the Southern Hemisphere'.

Another Dunedin-based 'Māori curio maniac' of the period was Murray Aston, an urbane young insurance agent who was a regular contributor to the _Otago Witness_. Aston's collecting activities provided focus to periodic 'rural rambles' that constituted a typical middle-class leisure activity on holiday weekends, documented in an extensive series of articles in the press. Aston advised travelling further afield to fossick on sites such as Ocean Beach at Bluff, from which he claimed never to have returned empty-handed of 'native relics':

Sometimes a greenstone ornament would reward my eager search, and then, again, curious black and grey axes in all stages of savage art, and evidently of different degrees of antiquity, spoke plainly enough that the prehistoric savage and the more civilised Maori had both dwelt here in former times.

To explain the proximity of historically distinct 'Moriori' and 'Maori' relics, Aston credited the burrowing of the rabbits that allowed the wind to offer up the antiquities to the collector's gaze. 'People in search of health, botanists, and antiquarians, therefore, will do well to pay a visit to the Bluff if unable to spare the time for the longer trip to Stewart Island, where Maori curios are still more common.' The popularity of curio hunting in the South Island correlated with the relative scarcity of the Māori population. In the North Island, where Māori were far more numerous and still occupied or lived near ancestral territories, to indulge the curio-hunting mania was to court a degree of difficulty, if not danger.

It was one thing to chance upon artefacts in the landscape, even if they came from known archaeological deposits, but quite another to target Māori burial grounds. Ancestral taonga deposited with burials – especially the prized greenstone heitiki – lured many curio hunters to cross an important ethical line and become brazen tomb raiders. Others opportunistically targeted the macabre 'relics of cannibal times' that were still traceable on the surface of the land. Burial caves were the most tapu of all Māori locations and Pākehā intruders needed to exercise extreme caution when violating such sites. Should discovery ensue, collectors might well discover that utu, or payment, was required for the crime. The following story appears in an 1889 article about an expedition into the Three Kings caves in Auckland:

About 20 years ago a Mount Eden man found a skull in one of the recesses. It was bleached snow-white with age and was unquestionably of Maori origin. This was a genuine prize. The finder carried it off in triumph, and so delighted was he with his discovery that he couldn't keep it to himself but must needs tell a Maori of his acquaintance all about the find. The same night that man's house was burned to the ground. He knew nothing about the laws of _tapu_ and had to pay for his ignorance.

The current adventurers were informed that 'as lately as eight or ten years ago a few bones were to be found, but the indefatigable relic hunter has long since annexed the last of them'.

Even when conducted in strictest secrecy, it is easy to imagine how this type of transgression might play on the mind. Colonel Thomas William Porter, who subsequently wrote and lectured about a clandestine visit he and a friend paid to a burial cave on the East Coast, is one who seems to have suffered from a troubled conscience. First came a lurid reminiscence entitled 'A Maori Charnel House', published anonymously in the _Hawke's Bay Herald_ in 1872 and reprinted by two other newspapers. Porter revealed that he and his accomplice souvenired greenstone ornaments from the cave ('we helped ourselves to a few of these things, feeling assured their sepulchred owners would not miss them') but in a fit of panic they hurriedly buried their haul at the foot of a nearby tree where, 'unless the spirit owners have retaken them', they still remained.

The exploit must date from the late 1860s or early 1870s, when Porter served with a Ngāti Porou contingent pursuing Te Kooti. In 1873 he married Herewaka Porourangi Pōtae, daughter of a leading Ngāti Porou chief, with whom he had at least eight children. Presumably, the increasing closeness to Māori and consequent familiarity with their world view deepened his regret over the escapade. Porter made his first public confession in 1879 when he was president of the Gisborne Debating Society, to which he delivered a paper 'descriptive of the discovery of an ancient Maori burial cave, by a friend and himself'. Decades later, Porter added further details of the fate of this cave and its contents:

Colonel Porter, in a recent address to the Palmerston North Philosophical Society, mentioned a very interesting circumstance. When young and adventurous, he secretly visited 'Te ana o nga wairua,' the cave of departed spirits, where he saw the gun which had been presented by Captain Cook to a native chief. It had been deposited with the chief's tattooed head in this sarcophagus of the dead. Years later, when visiting London, he saw and recognised this very head in a private collection. The sacred cave had evidently been rifled, and the relics sold to collectors.

What Porter conveniently forgot to mention was that, had he and his accomplice not hidden their stolen artefacts, these items would likely have entered the marketplace. It is unsurprising, therefore, that Māori suspicion should fall on the unprovenanced taonga that comprise the vast bulk of ethnographic collections in museums.

The secrecy demanded of tomb raiding was routinely undermined by public boasting on the part of the intruders themselves. In the context of a 1903 government report on the recently instituted system of Maori Councils, Gilbert Mair – as superintendent of the councils – published a photograph of three young men posed among a chaos of skeletal remains. 'Bitter indignation has been caused by unfeeling white savages, who often add insult to injury by sending photographs to the papers illustrating their shameful depredation. . . . How great would be the indignation were a Maori detected committing a similar offence in a European cemetery!' In a subsequent letter intended for publication, titled 'Desecration of Maori Graves', Mair stressed the gravity of the problem:

James McDonald, _Maori Burial Ground_ , 1903, monochrome wash and opaque white on paper, 285 × 395 mm. HOCKEN COLLECTIONS, UARE TAOKA O HĀKENA, UNIVERSITY OF OTAGO, 13,003, GIFT OF MARY, DORA AND DR ESMOND DE BEER, LONDON, 1957

Will the public believe me when I state that Europeans consider defiling Maori graves as rather a joke with the chance of making large sums of money through sale of Maori heirlooms which the natives in accordance with ancient customs, so foolishly bury with their dead. This infamous practice has been going on for many years and has been particularly rampant in the Hot Lake District till at the present probably every sacred place of the Arawa tribe has been rifled.

Mair had been present in February 1870 when the bodies of two of his scouts were laid to rest in Ngāti Pikiao's burial cave of Ōremu. On a more recent visit, however, he was shocked to see how these remains had been scattered, and how 'skulls had been stuck on sticks, cigarettes between the teeth and portions of lunch thrust into the eyes'. This was documented in the photograph that Mair appended to his report, which he had chanced upon in the window of a Hawke's Bay photographer: 'a picture of five [sic] miscreants who had added insult to injury by taking snaps of each other with trophies of bones round them. They were the sons of prosperous Hawkes Bay people – one or two were Bank Clerks and one the son of a well known medical man in Hastings.' To Mair's disgust, there seemed to be no legal remedy and 'the pack of scoundrels escaped prosecution'.

Particularly galling for Māori custodians was their suspicion that some of the desecrators held government office and as curio collectors were conducting ostensibly friendly relationships with local Māori. In 1907 the prominent Whakarewarewa guide Makereti or Maggie Papakura wrote to her friend T. E. Donne, head of the Tourist and Health Resorts Department, regarding suspicions that departmental employee James Robieson and two accomplices had looted the urupā on Motutawa Island in 1905. What Maggie Papakura did not know was that Robieson was supplying Donne with spectacular artefacts, and that the latter was likely to be aware of their controversial source. Newspaper reports of burial-cave violations indicate widespread Pākehā nonchalance, as well as occasional Māori complicity, surrounding touristic demand for access to these highly tapu locations. It is also likely that such reports spurred others to indulge in similar behaviour.

James McDonald, _Maori Wahi-tapu or Burial Ground_ , 1903, monochrome wash and opaque white on grey paper, 224 × 307mm. HOCKEN COLLECTIONS, UARE TAOKA O HĀKENA, UNIVERSITY OF OTAGO, 11,823, GIFT OF MRS J. AND MISS M. MCDONALD, WELLINGTON, 1955

The most infamous infringement of all was perpetrated by the itinerant Austrian taxi-dermist and natural history collector Andreas Reischek. Travelling in the then-forbidden King Country in 1882 under the patronage of King Tāwhiao, Reischek was honoured with the presentation of exceptional treasures. Highlights included a taiaha and wahaika (hand club) that had belonged to Tāwhiao's father, Pōtatau; the taiaha of Rewi Manga Maniapoto; a whalebone hoeroa (long club) and waka huia belonging to Tāwhiao; a patu that had belonged to Tāwhiao's father-in-law, Manuhiri; and eleven prized tail feathers of the soon-to-be-extinct huia. The waka huia, or jewellery box, also held an elevated provenance, having been previously owned by the paramount Taupō chiefs Te Heuheu and his brother Iwikau. Michael King points out that by Māori convention such exalted gifts were presented for the lifetime of the recipient, and were intended to be returned on their death; it was, he explains, 'one of the reasons they gave so willingly and so abundantly'. This is difficult to reconcile with the donors' undoubted knowledge that Reischek was a temporary visitor from Austria, but it is nevertheless unlikely that they imagined the final destination of their taonga as an ethnographic museum in distant Europe.

But all this was not enough. While gratified by the splendid gifts, Reischek was desperate to acquire an extraordinary curio that he knew would never be given to him. The location of an ancient necropolis on Hautapu, a promontory overlooking the Awaroa River near Kāwhia, had been rediscovered by locals some 30 years earlier and – despite being strictly tapu – had already been visited by Pākehā assisted by a Māori guide. This was how descriptions of Hautapu's legendary 'mummies' appeared in colonial newspapers. Reischek's friend and patron Julius von Haast of the Canterbury Museum heard of the cave when visiting Raglan and urged Reischek to acquire the 'mummies' for the Natural History Museum in Vienna. So, working at night with complicit local guides – '[t]wo Maoris, who had already become sufficiently Europeanised to be willing to renounce their national and religious principles for gold' – the Austrian collector brazenly stole the desiccated bodies of an adult and a boy from a burial cave on the cliff. The account of this episode in _Yesterdays in Maoriland_ (1952), a posthumous memoir concocted from his notebooks by Reischek's son and later messily translated into English, is nevertheless a first-hand documentation of the depredation that, when discovered, provoked intense anger throughout Waikato and the King Country. The adult body was identified as that of Tūpāhau, a seventeenth-century chief and direct ancestor of King Tāwhiao; the latter must have been infuriated by the kidnapping of his ariki forebear's remains by a trusted guest. Māori communities were perfectly aware that colonial museums secretively collected indigenous human remains, which were considered valuable for 'scientific' research and useful especially for exchanges with overseas museums. What very few knew was that – even after the discovery of the crime – persistent Pākehā tourists were still able to view the famed tūpāpaku, or mummies, with the assistance of younger Māori locals. In 1901 Hamilton photographer H. E. Gaze claimed to have secured such assistance simply by promising to take the photograph of a 'dusky maiden'.

### **BUYING AND SELLING**

An increasingly popular method of acquiring a curio was by purchase, including from the advertising columns of the newspaper – 'WANTED to dispose of, a MAORI GREENSTONE, exceedingly valuable'. Later in the nineteenth century, dedicated curio dealerships emerged in several North Island centres. James Butterworth, proprietor of New Plymouth's Old Curiosity Shop, held an encyclopaedic range of stock but his special field was the Māori curio. An 1892 commentator noted that Butterworth was 'a great favourite with the Maoris, and is always a welcome visitor at Parihaka, where Te Whiti is ever ready to assist him when anxious to procure "Maori curios" for strangers collecting such things'. Butterworth also knew that the best-selling items were those that possessed both history and mystique:

A murderous looking tomahawk, which Mr Butterworth informed us had killed many a man and woman, and which was full of notches, was shown us; as well as an officer's sword, which the Maoris during the war had carried off as loot.

Butterworth's offerings were special because, in addition to the standard 'mats' and carvings, he offered such thrillingly macabre objects as the '"toko-mauri" used anciently in divination to ascertain the fate of an attacking party on a battle field' and a 'mauri' spearhead 'used for stabbing the stomach of those lying on a battle field, which, by giving it a half twist and quickly drawing it back, brought out the entrails'. On a more mundane level, Butterworth also supplied goods to Māori clients for use in performances.

Butterworth specialised in supplying artefacts to wealthy European tourists, among whom the most active collectors appear to have been touring musicians and actors. The virtuoso Hungarian violinist Eduard Reményi, when not enthralling New Zealand audiences with performances of Paganini, obsessively hunted down as many Māori objects as possible. Indeed, the 'pertinacious' curio hunting attracted greater media attention than his admittedly erratic musical performances. Beginning in earnest in New Plymouth in February 1885 and presumably with the assistance of Butterworth, Reményi spent several months amassing 'immense quantities of greenstone, kauri gum, Maori mats, and other native manufactures' which, together with two complete moa skeletons obtained from Julius von Haast, made up an astonishing 44 boxes consigned in April 1885 to his agents in Sydney. And still the curio sleuth remained insatiable.

In Hastings the following month, Reményi sought out the famous Ngāti Kahungunu chief Rēnata Kawepō in his hunt for further treasures. Rēnata's family in turn expected a musical performance, which Reményi provided on a 'terrific local fiddle, out of shape and out of order', to the great satisfaction of the elderly chief. Although Rēnata was grinding a 'fine, grand greenstone mere', and was seated on a 'heap of all kinds of mats', there is no mention of any gift received by the violinist. Subsequently, on a visit to Wairarapa, Reményi spied a beautiful cloak and brazenly offered increasing amounts of cash to the nonchalant owner:

At last the Maori took a fancy to the velvet coat the violinist was wearing and a bargain was soon struck. Remenyi has the mat packed carefully away with his collection of novelties, and the Maori struts about with an air of satisfaction in a shabby velvet coat.

Other musical collectors included the sisters Julie and Rose Albu, English singers who toured the colonies in the early 1890s and were fond of collecting 'native curios' from the different countries they visited. In 1893 they regaled a journalist with the story of 'how they captured [stole] an ancient Maori curio in a field at Napier, and added it to their stock of curiosities, to be carried home and labelled "figure of a Maori god, the only one extant"'. The Albu sisters also exceeded the usual bounds of souvenir collection by dispatching three caseloads of Māori curios back to England.

The most famous itinerant collector to visit New Zealand was the legendary French actress Sarah Bernhardt. She made an initial, brief stopover in May 1891 when she acquired a whalebone mere, long-handled tomahawk, fishing net and other curios, before proving herself a crack shot at a local shooting gallery. The following August, returning from the Sydney season of _La Dame aux Cam_ é _lias_ , she was in search of more significant items. The 'divine' Sarah presented as 'weary and woe-begone-looking' when disembarking at Auckland after a hellish Tasman crossing. Following a reviving bath and substantial breakfast at the fashionable Albert Hotel (where her compatriot, Paul Gauguin, would stay in several years' time), Bernhardt made straight for Sygvard Dannefærd's Queen Street curio shop to inspect 'a fine collection of Maori carvings of the ancient class', items which the proprietor had especially procured in readiness for her visit.

Josiah Martin, _Pataka Panels_ , albumen photograph, 150 × 184 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B10.19, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

Josiah Martin, _Assortment of Carvings_ , albumen photograph, 198 × 146 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B10.7, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

Bernhardt's acquisitions included carvings exhumed from at least two Hauraki sites, which had been obtained through ditch laying and other agricultural interventions in the landscape. In the noteworthy case of an ancient pātaka, it had been a recent Māori initiative to trench the swamp at Whakatīwai, near the Thames River, in a concerted search for a legendary Hauraki treasure buried at the time of the Ngāpuhi raids of the 1820s:

They have found them in a splendid state of repair, and having got the tohunga to remove the tapu from them, the relics are now laid open for inspection. The designs are of the most coarse description, but the execution is so artistic that it must prove beyond doubt the existence of art principles in the primitive Maoris. The carving is nearly all in relief, and the edges stand out sharp and clear, as if chiselled yesterday. The preservative qualities of the swamp are, no doubt, accountable for this.

The precise nature and extent of Bernhardt's acquisitions from Dannefærd during this second stopover are uncertain, but they included at least part of another set of spectacular Hauraki carvings that had been unearthed in July 1885 on a farm at Kaiaua, on the coast near Miranda. The price Bernhardt paid to Dannefærd is also unclear. An inscription on the reverse of the British Museum's photograph of four stylistically disparate carvings – including one of the panels of the pātaka façade – states that she parted with the significant sum of £100. The caption on a later publication of an image of the pātaka carvings suggests the amount was £125, while yet another source suggested it was 200 guineas. Whichever figure is correct, it demonstrates the purchasing power of a wealthy European collector who nonchalantly snapped up some of the greatest treasures ever unearthed in New Zealand.

When curios crossed cultural boundaries, they frequently suffered modification through adaptation to European decorum or decorative display; truncated genitalia, for example, are relatively common. Even so, the fate of the Bernhardt carvings offers an extreme case of such modification and suggests that, as a collector, she had minimal respect for either the artistic or the spiritual integrity of her Māori acquisitions. Back in Paris, Bernhardt used a cabinetmaker to embed her carvings as decorative panels on a dining-room sideboard. This was when the narrow, double-figured pātaka carvings from each side of the photograph on the previous page were divided horizontally to form four individual figures. With insoucient panache, the cabinetmaker 'restored' the carvings by 'completing' the figures and adding nonsensical arabesques to fit them into rectangles. Equally shocking is the mutilation visited on the small house panel in the centre of the photograph, a carving in the Taranaki style. The cabinetmaker carved nonsensical patterns onto the unadorned foot and applied additional moko to the forehead of the figure. Few visitors to the current displays of the Musée du quai Branly, where these carvings are attributed to the 'ancienne collection Sarah Bernhardt', would be aware that the modifications – far from belonging to the original works – are indelible marks of this collector's inappropriate custodianship.

_Panneaux de Case_ [house panels], photolithograph, 250 × 320 mm, André Portier and François Poncetton, _Décoration Océanienne_ , Paris: Libraire des Arts Décoratifs, 1931, plate 43. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, P Q572.99 POR 1931

Dannefærd's acquisition strategy combined the power of money and European law to overcome traditional scruples. In 1908, and by now based in Rotorua, Dannefærd set his sights on an ancient carved tomb standing in the village of Maketū, in which the bodies of generations of local chiefs had been laid to rest:

The curio collector looked on the tomb with longing eye, and offered the guardians all sorts of fancy prices for it, but the belief that the dead and gone ancestors would rise in their wrath and cause both destruction and bloodshed in the tribe were their resting-place disturbed, compelled the superstitious Natives to warn the enterprising Pakehas away.

Comprised of eleven pou, or carved panels, the tomb resembled a small, windowless house and occupied a picketed enclosure. The story of the dealer's negotiation with the then chief, and the troublesome denouement, appeared in October 1912, when the dealer had finally gained possession of the tomb:

After some trouble the head chief, one Kihiharoa, accepted a price submitted, and the negotiations were then closed. But, whether as penance for his actions or otherwise it is not clear, Kihiharoa joined his ancestors some days afterwards, and was duly interred in the pou pou, which to all intents and purposes was now the property of the white man.

It took four years before he finally secured it, but Dannefærd then commanded an indisputable antiquity. Indeed, Augustus Hamilton later observed that several of the carvings must previously have served within a house, suggesting they were older than the other carvings. Asserting that the tomb was the best of three still standing, none of which had been secured by a museum, Dannefærd determined a price of £150. The lucky recipient was the Canterbury Museum, whose curator, Edgar Waite, organised a public subscription to secure it.

The acquisition by purchase of items such as tomb carvings and burial chests – or an entire existing house, for that matter – was a practice that lay outside the conventions of collecting that operated in the Māori world. While dealers such as Dannefærd were clearly motivated by the prospect of financial gain, the collectors were in turn attracted by rarity and antiquity – an aura of tapu seemingly adding extra allure. The sizeable curio collection amassed within his family home by the Wellington antiquarian and bibliophile Alexander Turnbull included no fewer than six waka tūpāpaku, or burial chests, obtained through an unidentified dealer; these, together with almost 1200 other items – including the carvings from an entire house – were transferred to the Dominion Museum between 1910 and 1913. Occasional voices were raised against the wholesale pillage of Māori cemeteries, such as that of the Christchurch citizen who described the removal of the Maketū sanctuary as 'an act of vandalistic desecration' and suggested an alternative fund-raising drive to restore the tomb to its original site. The dominant Pākehā view, however, held that institutions such as museums needed to preserve cultural materials that otherwise would be lost.

### **DESTRUCTION AND LOSS**

In a wooden-housed society such as New Zealand's, taonga were highly susceptible to destruction by fire. In March 1913 an important family collection perished which included a precious toki, or axe, named Pairikiriki, an heirloom originally given by Captain Cook to the Māhia chief Whenuariri. In 1912 the taonga was in the possession of Tieme Wirihana of Waingake, who explained to the _Poverty Bay Herald_ that the toki had always been treated with the utmost reverence, and never put to ordinary uses such as chopping wood. Originally it had a wooden handle, but this had been replaced by whalebone and the steel head was polished and well preserved:

According to legend it had been through much warfare, the various battles . . . including Kikeparaoa (near Te Karaka). On one occasion, during the Hauhau trouble, it is said to have been used to decapitate a chief who visited the tribe and urged pacific relations with the pakeha.

Wirihana was the son of a Yorkshire whaler named James Wilson, after whom he was named, and Te Ihu Rākau, a direct descendant of Whenuariri. Among other valuable taonga in Wirihana's possession was a tatā waka, or canoe bailer, said to have been handed down through ten generations. When it was suggested that he might present the toki to the government for safekeeping in the Dominion Museum, Wirihana was said to be favourable to the idea. Sadly, however, the cottage at Waingake was destroyed by fire the following year, taking with it the rare toki, the ancient bailer, several splendid greenstone mere, and 'a large collection of paintings and photographs of his ancestors and departed members of the family'. The frequency of such irreparable losses helps to explain the Māori support for Augustus Hamilton's early-twentieth-century project for a National Maori Museum.

The wholesale loss of Māori antiquities over the closing decades of the nineteenth century, whether by touristic purchase or Māori presentations, motivated the 1901 proposal to regulate export of the Māori material heritage. Debating Augustus Hamilton and S. Percy Smith's Maori Relics Bill then before Parliament, the _Wanganui Herald_ identified the celebrated nemesis on London Bridge as a researcher investigating a dispersed tradition:

[T]he time is not far distant when it will be necessary for Macaulay's New Zealander to visit Europe if he wants to see and admire the handiwork of the ancient Maori carvers and makers of ornately and grotesquely decorated weapons, mats, and other things, of which the latter-day arrivals in the colony know nothing and care less.

Support for the legislation came from Members of Parliament who had witnessed the mountain of gifts piled before the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York during the massed Māori welcome on 15 June 1901. Wikitōria Taitoko Keepa, whose father had received a sword of honour from Queen Victoria, reportedly presented 87 fine cloaks as well as greenstone weapons, including one with a history said to stretch back over thirteen generations. Other leading families followed suit, with dazed Pākehā commentators estimating the value of the gifts at £2,000. In return, prominent chiefs and chieftainesses received medals from the hand of royalty. More than a decade after the event, a journalist still wondered: 'What has become of those priceless treasures that were laid at the feet of a King-to-be by our loyal and open-hearted Maori friends? . . . What an attraction these heirlooms of a dying race would prove to a fitting National Museum which must be erected in the near future.'

William Blomfield, the satirical illustrator and newspaper proprietor, was an onlooker at the Rotorua ceremony and described how the royal party received their presents 'in a gracious, half amused manner, never dreaming the full extent of their value, or the history attached to them'. His appraisal of the fate of such artefacts was succinct: 'they are stowed away in a portmanteau or trunk, unearthed at some out of the way corner of the world, gazed at with curiosity by a few and then die an unnatural death in some musty corner of a foreign museum or ancestral hall'. Blomfield underscored the poignant loss of provenance – history, or kōrero – which alone allowed taonga to function as 'the annals of this colony in the days when "white-skins" were unknown':

To see an old chief, tottering, bent, and grey, his tatooed [sic] chin and face denoting the warrior of many a fight in field and Maori Parliament during the days when Labour legislation was unknown, walking in as stately a manner as possible, with an old whalebone club lovingly hugged to his breast, the record of many a fight and difference handed from tribe to tribe, willingly and unwillingly, until it rested a whole volume of startling adventure in the whare of the bearer bringing back to memory days of old. The chief bows before the Royal pair, and starts to relate the deeds that this volume in whalebone records, the club is snatched from his hands and placed in the pile, its history lost, for there is none to translate, the old man is cruelly hustled to one side, and the next takes his place.

Blomfield strongly recommended legislative control over 'further bartering or presenting of our ancient records' and suggested an inventory be made of all significant relics and their histories, not only to prevent their export but also to facilitate their future purchase for a suitable museum.

The introduction of the Maori Antiquities Act 1901 had an immediate impact on the activity of dealers, but ultimately proved ineffectual in blocking the furthering haemorrhaging of significant specimens. That an effective bureaucratic mechanism was slow to be developed is revealed by the case of Eric Craig, who by the turn of the century was Auckland's leading dealer in Māori curios:

Mr Eric Craig, of the curio-shop in Princes street, has strong grounds for complaint against the Government. As everyone knows, Mr Craig is a dealer in a large way in Maori relics, and last session an Act was passed by the Government which made it illegal for him or any similar dealer to effect a sale of any such relics without first of all offering them for sale to the Government. As most of the relics are purchased by tourists, the condition imposed by the Act gives the Government an inkling of what is likely to leave the colony; and as the first offer must be made to the Government, they are in this way given the opportunity of buying them up and preserving them for all time.

As soon as the Act was passed, the provisions were complied with by Mr Craig. He sent down to the Government the particulars of his stock, together with the selling prices. Some weeks have gone by since the letter was sent, and he is still waiting for the reply. Meantime, his stock is dead on his hands. If he sells, the relics he disposes of might be the very ones the Government are inclined to buy, and he is thus under a heavy penalty. Others who deal in the same class of goods are in the same fix, which means that if the neglect, or whatever it is, of the authorities is continued to this extreme, the dealers will have to shut down. The offer having been made, the least the Government, [sic] could do was to use as little time as possible in saying whether they would purchase or not.

Then, as today, significant items managed to evade the legislative radar in a whole host of ways. They might be carried as personal effects by government employees (T. E. Donne's sizeable collection, sold by him at Stevens' Auction Rooms in 1912 and by his widow at Sotheby's in 1973); as business props (Frank Hyams' collection, sold at Stevens', 8 May 1907); as costume apparel or props for Māori performances (Maggie Papakura, who during her later English residence offered material to an unnamed American museum); or as a fraudulently labelled export, which was how Tene Waitere's magnificent wharenui, Rauru, was spirited out of the country.

Rauru was an entirely new type of carved house in that it was commissioned, not by a Māori chief or community, but by a Pākehā tourist entrepreneur. Charles E. Nelson, the son of a prominent Swedish naturalist and anthropologist, settled in New Zealand around 1860 and developed idiosyncratic theories concerning Māori origins in Southern Arabia and the Persian Gulf. In 1892 he moved to Rotorua to manage the newly established Geyser Hotel at Whakarewarewa where, known as 'Tare', he became a central figure in the community. James Cowan, writing a fulsome obituary in 1909, referenced Nelson's fascination with the occult side of the Māori world:

He was particularly learned in native sacerdotal ritual. Indeed, he was steeped in Maori priestly lore so much so that he was regarded by many of his Maori acquaintances at Rotorua and elsewhere as a real tohunga, and was even credited by some of them with powers of makutu or necromancy because of his extraordinary knowledge, to which his peculiar dour way of regarding them from under his overhanging eyebrows perhaps gave added color [sic] in the eyes of the imaginative Maori.

It was likely to have been his economic clout that led the local community to indulge the self-styled 'white tohunga'. Roger Neich situates Nelson's engagement with Māori carving as 'a strange amalgam of romanticism, scientific curiosity and commercialism', while identifying him as an important European patron of the Ngāti Tarāwhai carvers who exerted an immense influence on the development of their art. Through the 1890s, Nelson retained Tene Waitere as a virtually full-time carver producing saleable pieces for tourists. He also commissioned Tene Waitere, Neke Kapua and Ānaha Te Rāhui to work together on major projects for which, according to Neich, he 'paid them at the standard rate of ten shillings per square foot'.

In 1897 Nelson obtained an old set of carvings, abandoned after an infringement of tapu, and over the following three years employed the carvers to complete a new house to serve as a tourist showpiece at Whakarewarewa. It would be called Rauru, after Te Arawa's mythical originator of carving, as opposed to the more usual naming after a significant ancestor of the tribe. The freshly carved poupou depicted legendary and mythical personalities that Neich maintains were 'probably chosen by Nelson in preference to any obscure Ngāti Tarawhai or Ngāti Whaoa ancestors, mainly so as to provide convenient illustrations for the famous Rotorua legends that a guide would tell to European tourists'. It was Pākehā patronage that importantly freed Tene Waitere to experiment with perspectival foreshortening and three-quarter profiles – significant departures from the severely frontal approach of traditional carving. Augustus Hamilton served as a consultant, as did the illustrations from the successive instalments of his _Maori Art_ (1896–1900); in 1899 Nelson begged for a fresh copy of Part II, 'mine being soiled by carvers handling'. Rauru was opened with due ritual in March 1900 when the tapu-lifting ceremonies were performed by two rival tohunga, each of whom died soon afterwards. Had the jealous tohunga bewitched each other, people wondered, or was the lingering tapu of the old carvings to blame?

After serving for four years as a touristic epicentre for Whakarewarewa – effectively a gigantic carved curio that in turn contained Nelson's collection of curios – Rauru abruptly disappeared. Nelson's plans to sell the house may have pre-dated its completion, since William Blomfield reported in May 1899 that 'a millionaire collector of curios in the old country is in negotiation for its possession' and strongly advised its acquisition for the colony. Reports surfaced in June 1900, soon after its opening, that the house had been sold to the Berlin Museum for £1,600; apparently the sale fell through because the director judged Tene Waitere's innovative door and window panels, illustrating the legend of Hatupatu and Kurangaituku, 'so horrid and simply nonsensical that we would never like to show them to the public'. Finally, sold to a Berlin dealer in mid-1904, the house abruptly vanished from the community – 'exported piecemeal, in 58 packages, labelled "scenic effects"'. Alerted to the situation a fortnight later, Augustus Hamilton was appalled to find that it was too late to block the export of the house.

Mark Adams, _Poupou depicting Maui entering Hinenuitepo, who crushes him to death_ , _carved by Tene Waitere for Rauru_ and _Poupou depicting Maui fishing up Te-Ika-a-Maui_ , _carved by Tene Waitere for Rauru_ , digital photographs. MUSEUM FÜR VÖLKERKUNDE, HAMBURG, GERMANY; PHOTOGRAPHS COURTESY OF MARK ADAMS

Arthur Iles, _Carved Maori House, Whakarewarewa_ , c. 1903, gelatin silver photograph, 141 × 199 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B9.20, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

Arthur Iles, _Maggie Papakura at the Window of Rauru_ , c. 1903, gelatin silver photograph, 140 × 187 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B9.17, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

Was Rauru an antiquity covered by the Act? Some thought that, since a portion had been carved for Nelson, and not for a tribe, it might be exempt. According to Roger Neich, Nelson was free to sell the house overseas since the government had the previous year declined to purchase it for a proposed £1,200. Nevertheless, a contemporary account of the episode by William Blomfield, a close friend of Nelson's, suggests a more complicated situation. In Blomfield's view, the government was attempting to extort the house for a meagre sum, under the assumption that the legislation prevented its export:

It is unquestionable that the colony has suffered a great loss by the export of this Maori carved house. But Mr Nelson is in no way to blame for that. It could not be expected that in his advanced years he would keep his money locked up in a Maori carved curiosity, however valuable it might be . . . . What blame there is lies at the door of the Government. It pursued a mean, sordid, and over-reaching policy, with the result that it has defeated itself, and a most valuable object of historical interest has been lost to the country.

Considering the pains he had taken in advising Nelson on the house, and all the proselytising for and drafting of the Maori Antiquities Act, one can imagine Augustus Hamilton's bitter disappointment over the loss of a treasure that today is proudly displayed in Hamburg's Museum für Völkerkunde. It was only the previous year that Hamilton had been appointed to direct the Colonial Museum, precisely on the strength of his vision for a great national collection of Māori art.

### **FAKING IT**

An observer of the Māori gifts that were showered on the officers of the American Fleet during their ceremonial visit to Rotorua in 1908 cynically pondered on 'the eternal multiplication of these ancient relics':

It mustn't be thought that Birmingham and Germany are the only places on God's earth where the people can make Maori relics. Give us a chance! The game isn't half a lost art in New Zealand yet, and what good old Maggie Papakura and her party don't know of the art of making presents and giving valuable gifts isn't worth worrying about. The Maoris' generosity in the matter of ancient weapons, etc., will last out another 9999 years – if the race survives the Jap invasion.

A variant narrative involved the idea that Māori 'replaced' such treasures by means of Pākehā craftsmen, and that such objects in turn duped even the canniest collectors:

A greenstone lapidist told me he got an order for a mere, to replace one that had been given to a Royal visitor. He was given a drawing and a description, and declared he made a real beauty. Some years after he repurchased it and put it in his shop window. Sir George Grey saw it, came in and after admiring it offered to buy. My friend, however, not wanting to take Sir George in, told him that he did not think it was genuine, but Sir George was positive it was, and it is now in the Grey collection with the history of the real one fastened on it. I expect the real one is wrapped in a Maori gift mat and is lying in a cellar in London.

Whether in Europe or in New Zealand, buyers of Māori curios clearly needed to exercise the greatest caution, for there was an abundance of fakes that successfully passed as genuine indigenous treasures. Had champion fossicker Alfred Reynolds, who as Aparata Renata authored tips on 'Unearthing Maori Idols', not warned New Zealand collectors as early as 1892 of 'spurious stone age implements' that were circulating on the market?

Though the ubiquity of fakes and copies was widely publicised, brazenly poor-quality examples were snapped up regardless, especially when a specific genre of curio suddenly become fashionable. Lord Westbury, travelling home on the _India_ , befriended a colonial lady who, just as he was about to visit Monte Carlo, presented him with a tiny greenstone heitiki, 'for luck':

_Tikis et Ornaments_ , photolithograph (detail), André Portier and François Poncetton, _Décoration Océanienne_ , Paris: Libraire des Arts Décoratifs, 1931, plate 42. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, P Q572.99 POR 1931

As it happened, Lord Westbury won an enormous amount of money, so much, indeed, that particulars of his winnings were telegraphed to the French and English papers. Presumably his lordship attributed his luck to the Maori curio, for the writer [the colonial lady correspondent] states that there is likely to be a rush for tikis, and they should consequently go up in price. As a matter of fact, there are very few genuine tikis in the market, and they are very high-priced, but of late the country [England] has been flooded with a cheap German imitation, the spuriousness of which is easily detected by those who know anything about the genuine article.

In London, the specialist in New Zealand greenstone was Frank Hyams, a manufacturing jeweller formerly of Princes Street, Dunedin, who opened his New Bond Street branch at Christmas of 1898. Customers were beguiled by the carved panels of a 'whare' showing a loan collection of 'bijouterie and curios connected with New Zealand, especially those in which the New Zealand greenstone or pounamu enters into the construction'. On the one hand, the New Zealand semi-precious stone was promoted as an exotic component of European jewellery or high-status gifts, including 'spoons with greenstone handles terminating in a Maori chief', while on the other there was a more or less surreptitious replication of Māori curios. When the tiki craze arrived, further fuelled by reports of the astonishing luck experienced by Leo de Rothschild's racing horses, Hyams was well placed to satisfy demand.

In New Zealand, it had long been rumoured that touristic demand for Māori curios was largely met through covert Pākehā industry:

These things are taken Home, to astonish the natives there, and to find their way into museums and 'private collections.' They are all guaranteed to the purchaser as of 'native manufacture,' of course. But could one peep into some Auckland workshops, the cat would leap out of the bag in the proverbial 'brace of shakes,' and the native curio-market suffer a decided 'fall.'

Some sellers of curios, who stressed the arduous journeys on horseback necessary to source the 'relics of the old arts', were simultaneously lapidaries manufacturing items from 'genuine greenstone'. One such was Fritz Larsen of Auckland, whose curio shop at the top of Shortland Street sported a factory at the rear of the premises. Strategically situated near the museum and top tourist hotels, Larsen offered 'ancient' heitiki of modest appearance marked at prices up to £100 – 'convincing' sums that were frequently met by private collectors and trustees of museums.

Spurious artefacts were found even in New Zealand museums. In 1906 W. H. Skinner was alarmed by news that Canterbury Museum was offering New Plymouth a complete moa skeleton in exchange for ancient Māori stone pounders and sinkers. Skinner advised that among the stone pounders in the Taranaki collection was one of New Zealand's finest examples, found 50 years earlier by his father-in-law, William Devenish, at the base of a great rātā tree. 'Many attempts have been made by museum authorities and others to get this pounder by exchange or otherwise', Skinner claimed, 'but so far a close eye has been kept on it by a few of us who know its worth.' In proclaiming it the 'best Maori curio we have in the museum', he admitted that this was not saying very much, 'as there is a fearful lot of rubbish collected on the walls, labelled genuine Maori, which are no more Maori than is my stove pipe hat'. In subsequent years, as a result of corresponding with and purchasing items from the English dealer and faker James Edward Little, Skinner himself was responsible for assembling what may be the best-provenanced collection of fake Māori artefacts.

An excess of demand over supply has always blurred the boundaries of authenticity; seemingly, even the reception of taonga directly from Māori was no guarantee. The debate around the propriety of the Duke and Duchess's acceptance of the Māori gifts in 1901 alarmed royal advisors, but experts based in London explained that returning them was no longer an option. Sir Walter Buller suggested that, in view of the proposed Māori museum for Wellington, His Royal Highness might consider depositing the ancient heirlooms in his own name in the new museum and thereby give satisfaction to Māori and colonists alike. Instead, a selection of the New Zealand gifts was placed on display at the Imperial Institute in 1902, amidst a cornucopia of other gifts showered on the royal couple by the nations that they toured. Gratified by the dominant position accorded to the colony's gifts, New Zealand observers were however pained by the labelling. 'Kiwis are described as emus, meres as sceptres, reed kilts [piupiu] as "pinpin," . . . and the well known carved figures, apparently suffering the pangs of colic, appear as "grotesque masks."' The New Zealand gifts reappeared at the British Museum over the summer of 1904, when they provoked searching questions regarding their precise status:

[A] foreign professor who has viewed the New Zealand collection, and who ought to know, is very severe on some of the alleged 'relics' of Maori antiquity. It is, he says, a pity to see false tikis, meres, and bad modern carvings placed near the real old treasures. Some of the greenstone ornaments in the collection, it is asserted, were made by jewellers for the Maoris to present to their Royal Highnesses. The wood carvings are declared to be poor specimens of the art in which the Maoris of old were artistic craftsmen.

The negative judgement on much of the collection was also held by Major-General H. G. Robley, a retired imperial soldier who in this period supported his own collecting with the buying and selling of Māori curios sourced on the London market.

Unfortunately, many greenstone artefacts in the Royal Collection are rumoured to have vanished into the British antiques market when they were improperly deaccessioned from the now defunct British Empire and Commonwealth Museum, thereby frustrating any attempt to verify their status. But some of the gifts heaped in 1908 before Admiral Charles Sperry of the American Fleet – 'kiwi feather mats, flax and fibre mats, kits, meres, and taiahas, pouwhenuas, and other weapons, some of them very ancient' – were later donated by his wife Edith to the Smithsonian Museum in Washington DC. An inspection of these cloaks reveals them to be time-worn garments that were specially 'brightened' by colourful additions of wool. In any case, the published expenses of 'Fleet Week' include, alongside £50 for Māori dancers, 'purchase of Maori curios, £42'. The Māori gifts to the Americans, bestowed with such panache, had been funded from government coffers.

What I have termed the curio economy, embracing both private and public collecting agencies, presents an extraordinarily disjunctive, asymmetrical field. In his elegant 1991 essay 'Why Museums Make Me Sad', James A. Boon addressed the melancholy quality of dislocated and juxtaposed fragments. Māori attitudes to the rapacious collecting culture of the Pākehā, including the desecration of wāhi tapu, were starkly summarised by Māui Pōmare in a 1908 address to the Australasian Medical Conference:

The stone axe has been loosened from its handle; the spirals and works of art cut by our stone and obsidian are no longer to be seen in our Maori village and kainga, but only in the Pakeha's house of antiquity, the museum. Long before the dawn of Pakeha civilization one of our ancestors dreamt this prophetic dream, 'Shadowed behind the tattooed face a stranger stands. He owns the earth. He is white.' Two hundred years before Pakeha feet trod on these shores another dying 'kaumatua' called his children about him, and thus spoke: 'Weep not for me, but rather weep for yourselves and your land, for the time is coming . . . when alien white feet shall desecrate my grave.' That time has come. The tattooed face is now an article of commodity, sold to the highest bidder in civilized England. 'The white stranger owns the earth'; that time has come. The white feet of vandals have desecrated the seer's grave; his children are weeping for their vanishing glory and land.

Many sympathetic Pākehā commentators gave voice to Māori lament, including W. A. Taylor, Canterbury's authority on the history of Te Waihora (Lake Ellesmere). In his 1944 essay 'Who Were the Moa Hunters?', Taylor wrote:

A Maori penned the following, which is, unfortunately, entirely true: 'The pakeha has taken practically all, but still the men of science are not satisfied. Having taken what the living could give, they now seek in the burial places. These men of learning wear a cloak of culture, culture not deep enough to respect the resting place of those who have gone before, and have lain undisturbed for countless years with the adzes and meres, and revered by their descendants today.'

As Paul Tapsell has persuasively shown, taonga possess intimate connections to ancestral land and the exercise of rangatiratanga, traditional chiefly authority. It was the loss of the land, whether through confiscation or coerced sale, that diminished the mana of chiefs and entire communities, in turn fuelling the alienation of the ancestral objects that were so highly coveted by Pākehā collectors. Bits and pieces of superannuated buildings, temporary grave enclosures, heirlooms of every kind, all effectively changed their identity to become curios displayed within Pākehā homes and institutions. When the buildings and people were gone, there was still the earth to be ransacked for buried treasure. It was nothing less than a massive transfer of the Māori material heritage into the hands of the coloniser.

Henry King, _Maori King, New Zealand. 'Tiawhiao'_ [sic], April 1884, albumen photograph, 199 × 150 mm. COLLECTION OF MICHAEL GRAHAM-STEWART

## CHAPTER SIX

## _Problems with Portraits_

NOW IT IS TIME TO LOOK MORE closely at the reception of portraiture as well as the rise of portrait collecting by Māori, effectively representing the emergence of a new class of taonga. George French Angas's watercolours and lithographs from the 1840s may have represented the first concerted portrait cycle in New Zealand art, prefiguring the later collection of Māori celebrities painted by Lindauer for Henry Partridge, but their circulation and reception occurred outside of the Māori world. Nevertheless, Angas's account of his New Zealand field trip highlights some of the challenges he faced in negotiating the depiction of important individuals. What changed everything was the arrival of photographic portraiture, which became a site of both resistance and acclamation. While Te Whiti-o-Rongomai, the pacifist prophet of Parihaka, famously spurned portraiture and forbade the presence of photographers on his marae, the Waikato leader King Tāwhiao embraced portraiture with alacrity.

It would be convenient to see Māori enthusiasm for the amassing of photographs and, eventually, of oil paintings as serving to balance the depletion of taonga, but the reality is more complex. The widespread Māori patronage of Gottfried Lindauer was in fact intimately linked to the principal industry of colonial New Zealand – the individualisation of the land and its alienation from Māori ownership. A crucial agent within this enterprise was none other than Walter Buller, the gentlemanly natural historian who – though colonial-born – had trained as a lawyer in London while overseeing the publication of his pioneering _History of the Birds of New Zealand_ (1873). From 1874 he operated as a barrister in cases before the Native Land Court, a period in which his income swelled vastly and his collecting turned from ornithology to ethnology. With Buller's assistance, Lindauer's career would in turn benefit significantly from the lucrative money scramble that was the Native Land Court, while Buller snared his portrait collection as part of the deal.

Portraiture was central to customary Māori art; carved effigies memorialised ancestors and heroes, while smoke-dried human heads formed portrait collections of recent generations for the benefit of the living. It was not surprising, therefore, that the vivid and lifelike realisations of European portraiture would eventually find acceptance within the Māori world. However, beginning with the example of the eighteenth-century voyaging artists, awareness of European portraiture had long pre-dated the possibility of its acquisition for Māori purposes. Of the 60 hand-coloured lithographic plates in George French Angas's opulent _The New Zealanders Illustrated_ , published in 1847, no fewer than 46 were portraits or figure studies, mostly of named individuals. Preparatory watercolours made during an extensive field trip in 1844 – before the arrival of photography in the country – provoked intense emotional responses when seen by relatives of portrait subjects. Angas's _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_ (1847), drawn from the artist's journal, includes the text of a letter written by the leading Waikato chief Te Wherowhero – the future King Pōtatau – to his friend Te Heuheu Tūkino, paramount chief of Taupō. Te Wherowhero explains that Angas is an artist – 'he kai tuhi tuhi ahua ia' ('he is a writer of images') – and asks that Te Heuheu offer protection and hospitality to the 'strange foreigner from England'. Interestingly, there is no sense here that these powerful chiefs felt there was anything out of order in having their portraits taken, and taken _is_ the appropriate word, for Angas was leaving them with little more than the memory of having been depicted. Yet for Te Heuheu, Angas reported, 'the idea of his portrait going to England along with that of Te Whero-whero and the other _rangatiras_ , flattered his consequence and filled him with pride'.

Angas reported experiencing 'considerable trouble when sketching, from the prevalence of the _tapu_ ; so many objects being considered sacred':

anything relating to food, if represented with the same pencil that depicted the head of the sacred chief, or put into the same portfolio with it, is considered a sad and fearful sacrilege. The whole of my sketches once narrowly escaped being committed to the flames. . . . Even the [mountain] Tongariro itself I was forbidden to represent, under pain of 'utu,' or payment . . .

Angas developed a strategy of subterfuge, 'obliged . . . to make drawings of the _patukas_ , _tapu_ buildings, &c., by stealth', and even succeeded in depicting the sacred mountain. Despite condemning 'absurd and heathen' customs, tapu at times could serve Angas's interests, as when Te Heuheu _'tapued'_ the hut in which he stayed. Unsurprisingly, Angas's infringements of tapu have been retrospectively absolved by leading Māori scholars, including Sidney Moko Mead, the anthropologist who presided over the magisterial _Te Maori_ exhibition. In relation to a highly tapu carved house that Angas covertly recorded, Mead writes: 'All traces of the former glory of Te Kuiti's rich art would have vanished completely but for the timely arrival of Angas and his persistence in seeking out works of ethnographic interest.'

The acculturation into portraiture began in earnest with the rise of photography and the Māori patronage of studio photographers, many of whom subsequently exploited the reproductive potential inherent in the medium. This photographic phenomenon is paralleled in many colonial contexts, where indigenous 'types' represented a saleable commodity that furnished material both for tourist albums and the ethnographic photograph collections amassed by museums and libraries around the world. From a Māori perspective, however, there was danger inherent in this untrammelled circulation of personal images:

To the native mind the putting of the Queen's head on coins was dangerous and incomprehensible, but to put the heads of notable persons on tins of preserved food, tobacco and cigarettes, is simply the act of madmen, utterly inexcusable, and terribly dangerous to human life. When Mr. Hamilton photographed some women at Rua-tahuna, he was specially warned not to allow any copy of the picture to appear on jam tins, and so endanger the life principle of the persons photographed.

This is Elsdon Best reporting on Tūhoe views, but it is consistent with reports from around the country. As James Cowan reports in _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ (1930), his survey of Henry Partridge's collection of Māori celebrities painted by Gottfried Lindauer: 'Many of these dignified old Maori chiefs and chieftainesses instinctively abhorred the idea of having their portraits painted or being sketched or photographed, and this dislike was shared by pretty well every member of their tribe.' Cowan outlined the trouble and expense involved in persuading the indomitable Mere Kuru Te Kati of Ngāti Tamaterā to agree to a portrait – an agreement that stipulated she would receive a copy of the portrait to hang in the tribal meeting house.

A conundrum surrounds the genre of posthumous portraiture, exemplified by the numerous portraits that Lindauer translated from tiny _carte-de-visite_ photographs of chiefs who were dead before the artist's arrival in the country. How could these individuals have agreed to their heroic painted portraits? The urge to excise 'inappropriate' European clothing – the subjects' authentic wardrobes – in favour of customary garments was clearly outlined by the painter Sam Stuart in relation to a portrait series he was developing for the Auckland Museum: 'I am endeavouring to obtain authentic portraits of all the celebrated Maori chiefs, and to free these pictures as far as possible from all the modernism of European clothing, etc.' Nevertheless, as the Māori reception of the Lindauer Art Gallery revealed, the sartorial idealisation flaunted by the collection seemed entirely appropriate to all parties. Such liberation from modern clothing seemingly bothered no one; nor is there evidence of complaints regarding any inclusion of an individual within the collection.

### **THE INTRUSIVE GENRE**

That there was a diversity of Māori attitudes towards portraiture, and a considerable burden placed on Māori to submit to depiction, is highlighted by the opposing stances taken by Te Whiti-o-Rongomai, the prophet of Parihaka, and Tāwhiao Matutaera Te Wherowhero, the second Māori king. Both leaders rebelled against colonial authority – Tāwhiao by taking up arms in a full-scale war against an encroaching imperial army, Te Whiti by means of passive resistance to land surveying – and both subsequently witnessed the invasion and destruction of their communities and endured periods of exile. Remarkably, they held quite different attitudes towards portraiture in general, and photography in particular.

William F. Gordon, _Te Whiti-o-Rongomai_ , 1880, pencil drawing reproduced as albumen photograph, 86 × 60 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MICHAEL GRAHAM-STEWART

Te Whiti forbade the presence of photographers at his marae, thereby hoping to frustrate colonial desire to capture the image of a problematic leader. That he failed in this quest, just as Hōne Heke had been similarly unsuccessful in the 1840s, should not be surprising. The task was first accomplished by William F. Gordon of Whanganui, who in 1880 secretively sketched Te Whiti on his shirt cuff while the chief was making a speech on the marae. After he had transferred his portrait to paper, Gordon used photography as the means of mass reproduction. To the undoubted disgust of the prophet, Te Whiti's likeness was disseminated throughout the colony in the form of a _carte-de-visite_ photograph. Two years later, in 1882, when Te Whiti and his relative and fellow prophet Tohu Kākahi were political prisoners in the South Island, their minder John P. Ward succeeded in making a surreptitious photograph for the purposes of illustrating his book, _Wanderings with the Maori Prophets, Te Whiti and Tohu_ (1883):

Te Whiti or Tohu never sat for their photos, though often asked to do so, nor would they entertain the idea of a photographer or his appliance coming near them. I was determined to surmount this, and I did. . . . But 'my friends' now, as I write this, are as unconscious that the faithful camera has depicted their awe-stricken and phlegmatic countenances as I am of becoming 'Emperor of the Flowery Land'.

Gordon's sketch certainly confirms the verisimilitude of the later photograph, which in turn entered the marketplace of portraits and was appropriated by other artists. James McDonald's grisaille portrait of 1903 is inscribed 'From a photograph taken by Ward when Te Whiti was in Dunedin gaol'. In fact, the photograph was taken in a garden in Nelson.

Te Whiti's implacable stance was based on a conviction that images held power, and that they could be injured when handled wrongly. When asked by an unaware Pākehā visitor for a photograph by which to remember him, Te Whiti replied: 'You do not need a photograph of your friend to remember him by; you carry his picture in your mind. Besides, you never know how a photo may be treated; it may be reproduced on paper, and that paper may be put to most ignoble uses.' William Baucke, a fluent Māori speaker who had been Te Whiti's guest for three days, reported the intense loathing that the leader reserved for the touristic category of photography:

James McDonald, _Te Whiti_ , 1903, monochrome wash and opaque white on paper, 244 × 142 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, A-247-034

He detested with horror photographs and prints in which the protruding tongue and inverted eyeball are depicted as symbolic of the Maori – especially those taken at Rotorua of women and children – and thought this not only degraded his race, but disgraced the proud, select pakeha in his isolate pretensions of superior morals and ethics. One day among his correspondence came a letter, impressed with a marginal picture of an otherwise handsome woman protruding her tongue, which, without reading, he spat upon and contemptuously cast into the fire.

Nevertheless, Te Whiti lost his battle against photography. The existence and circulation of his portraits emphasises the absolute impossibility, by the later nineteenth century, of combining notoriety with visual anonymity.

On the death in 2006 of the Māori queen, Dame Te Atairangikaahu – the great-great-great-granddaughter of Pōtatau Te Wherowhero, the first Māori king – the _New Zealand Herald_ reported that her coffin was surrounded by photographs of her royal forebears. Technically, this was incorrect, for the only extant image of Te Wherowhero is the hand-coloured lithograph after the watercolour made in 1844 by George French Angas. It was Te Wherowhero's son, King Tāwhiao, who embraced painted, sculpted and photographic portraiture. One of the earliest photographs was made at the Pulman Studio in January 1882 when the king made his state visit to Auckland. Other portraits were taken during this visit and a great many more were produced in association with the king's voyage to London in 1884, beginning with a sequence of photographs made by Henry King in Sydney. The most famous image of Tāwhiao, known through a host of variant reproductions, is universally attributed to the prominent New Zealand-based photographer Josiah Martin, whose blindstamp appears on many extant prints. It clearly dates from the London visit, as a comparison with the Negretti and Zambra photograph attests, but how did Martin (who was in New Zealand at the time) acquire it?

Elizabeth Pulman Studio, _King Tawhiao_ , January 1882, albumen photograph, 88 × 56 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MICHAEL GRAHAM-STEWART

Negretti and Zambra Studio, Crystal Palace, _King Tawhiao_ , 19 July 1884, albumen photograph, 128 × 94 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, PA3-0184, PRESENTED BY MISS J. L. RUSSELL, 1958

In fact, the image originated in London on 21 July 1884, when Tāwhiao and his entourage of chiefs visited the John Mayall Studio in Bond Street, and it was pirated by Martin from a large-scale carbon print that had been dispatched to the Auckland Museum by a former settler. Many other visits were paid to photography studios during this excursion, in part because Tāwhiao realised that portraiture was a duty of royalty. This was how wood-engraved and lithographed illustrations in the mass media could satisfy the public demand for images of the Māori chiefs. While Tāwhiao had his own uses for such photographs – as when he presented a signed photograph to a Belgian capitalist for transmission to the Belgian king – he must also have had an awareness of how he was generating valuable commodities in the market for images. Just as Martin's pirated version erases Tāwhiao's inconveniently modern shirt collar, other images featuring modern clothing would also undergo appropriate revision. A Gottfried Lindauer portrait from circa 1885, though based on a Henry King photograph taken in Sydney on the outward voyage, replaces Tāwhiao's suit with a kiwi-feather cloak.

Josiah Martin, after John Mayall Studio, _King Tawhiao_ , 21 July 1884, albumen photograph, 294 × 240 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, PURCHASED 1973

King Tāwhiao's tangi culminated in late September 1894 beneath Taupiri, the sacred burial mountain of the Waikato tribes. It was an event that underlined the importance and role of portraiture in the Māori world, while it revealed the changing technological context that facilitated intimate access to the event. An attempt was made to keep Europeans firmly on the outskirts, the vantage from which the _New Zealand Graphic_ artist, Thomas Ryan, depicted a ceremonial climax – the reception of the king's body by the assembled tribes. Ryan's drawing shows the cortège of mourners, stripped of all European clothing, advancing with the heavy, lead-lined coffin towards a framed oil painting of the king. The accompanying narrative – almost certainly contributed by Ryan – described how on 'Tawhiao's portrait being uncovered, a hum ran through the crowd of Natives as if from one man, and was sustained for some time with splendid effect'. Meanwhile, volleys were fired by the armed guard, and blasts of dynamite crackled on the burial mountain.

Thomas Ryan, _The Tangi of King Tawhiao: The Reception of the Late King's Body by the Assembled Crowd_ , 13 September 1894, photolithograph, 140 × 200 mm, _New Zealand Graphic and Ladies' Journal_ , 6 October 1894, p. 320. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, N-P 1605-320

Immense effort was invested in keeping photographers at bay and – for fear of witchcraft – preventing any documentation whatsoever of Tāwhiao lying in state in his glass-covered, lead-lined coffin. But it was to no avail. On European Reception Day, 24 September 1894, Enos Silvanus Pegler, a skilled exponent of covert photography, used a 'Facile' camera to capture the forbidden scene of Tāwhiao lying in state. While a sizeable oil painting can be seen looming over the coffin, there is insufficient definition to assess its authorship. Pegler's surreptitious photographs informed illustrations of the event in the _New Zealand Graphic_ , where the portrait is more clearly delineated and greenstone weapons can be seen suspended from the tent support. It is frustrating that, apart from a brief mention of how the painting was brought from the Wellington region by a relative of Tāwhiao's, and Ryan's description of the central role that it played in the ceremony, the mysterious portrait is ignored by all other journalists covering the event.

Enos Silvanus Pegler, _Tawhiao the Maori King's Tangi: Body Lying in State_ , 24 September 1894, gelatin silver photograph, 147 × 195 mm. NATIONAL ARCHIVES, UNITED KINGDOM, COPY1/418/854

Pegler fearlessly documented every aspect of the tangi, and some of his photographs include figures that look with suspicion at the camera. One is the woman looking up from weaving a kono, or food basket. But Pegler was far from the only photographer documenting this event. Describing the entertainment provided during European Reception Day, a journalist reported that '[a]n old lady of Tawhiao's family caused a great deal of amusement by holding a bunch of greenery in each hand, and keeping time with a tremulous motion to the music of the band. She would have terminated the performance speedily had she known that one of the pakeha ladies had taken a "snap-shot" at her with her Kodak.' By the 1890s, the portable, high-speed camera was able to subvert the censorship of image-making that had been readily effected in earlier decades, when photographers laboured with cumbersome equipment that so closely resembled the dreaded theodolite of the surveyors. In earlier times, a candid action shot of the armed guard's drill would have been unthinkable.

At the time of the tangi, there were reported anxieties that Tāwhiao's skull was desired for acquisition by the Auckland Museum. Such fears indicate contemporary Māori suspicion of the museum and awareness of its often-nefarious collecting activities. Nevertheless, the museum was simultaneously a space capable of serving Māori purposes. A fascinating report from two years after Tāwhiao's death tells of an occasion when the large carbon print of the Mayall portrait was honoured by Māori visitors:

_The Tangi of Tawhiao: European Reception Day, Monday, Sept. 24, 1894_ , photolithograph, 403 × 280 mm, _New Zealand Graphic and Ladies' Journal_ , 6 October 1894, p. 321. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, N-P 1605-321

Enos Silvanus Pegler, _The Maori King's Tangi: Making Kits_ [kono] _for Visitors_ , 24 September 1894, gelatin silver photograph, 149 × 196 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, PURCHASED 1990

Enos Silvanus Pegler, _Tawhiao The Maori King's Tangi: Maori Forces' Drill_ , 24 September 1894, gelatin silver photograph, 149 × 196 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, PACOLL-1893-05

A peculiar scene was enacted in the Ethnological annexe of the Auckland Museum on November 3. Amongst the visitors were two Maori women, one of them Tanira, a widow of King Tawhiao. When they saw the portrait of Tawhiao, which was presented to the Museum by Mr George Graham, they commenced to tangi, or cry, in front of it. The unwonted noise brought together all the visitors in the Museum, and soon the passers-by in the street began to pour in. The two women, however, continued their wailing till they had satisfied their feelings and the requirements of Maori etiquette, and then Tanira suspended upon the framework on which the picture stands a small native shoulder mat. The mourners then took their leave.

Remarkably, that 'small native shoulder mat' is still decorating Tāwhiao's portrait in the photograph of the Maori Hall made several years later by the Auckland photographer Thomas Pringle.

Māori held a wide spectrum of attitudes towards portraiture, ranging from wholehearted acceptance – associated with a realisation that one could thereby exert some degree of control over one's image – through to outright abhorrence and rejection. That many communities attempted to regulate intrusive surveillance is clear from newspaper reports of difficulties experienced by photographers who lacked appropriate permission. Many Māori were concerned about the precise issue raised by Te Whiti and many others, namely the com-modification of one's image and the unknown uses to which such an image might be put. The reality was that association with the culture of photography amounted to a Faustian pact, whereby to obtain one's own photograph was simultaneously to place it into circulation. Even when a contract had been struck that a photograph not be circulated, the agreement could be flouted with impunity. This was the case when a posthumous photograph of a young rangatira – made by request of the boy's father at a tangi near Urenui in 1900 – appeared later that year in a two-page spread of the widely distributed Christmas number of the _Auckland Weekly News_. Taite Hoerā, also known as Wherokino, mounted a case against G. H. White, the photographer, at the New Plymouth Magistrate's Court, where he claimed £50 for breach of contract, with an alternative claim of £50 for breach of confidence in publishing the tapu photograph. It transpired that J. D. Wickham, an agent for the _Auckland Weekly News_ , had paid for the photographer's work and hence legally owned it. Judgment went against the plaintiff, with costs.

Elizabeth Pulman Studio, _Rewi Manga Maniapoto_ , July 1879, scan from collodion glass negative. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, PA2-1359

An example of enculturation into photography is provided by the gradual embrace of portraiture on the part of the Ngāti Maniapoto chief Rewi Manga Maniapoto. In 1875, while buying photographs of other chiefs from a photography studio in the frontier town of Cambridge, Rewi refused the photographer's request to take his photograph, 'saying it was not proper for a great chief's likeness to be sold for IS [one shilling]'. Over the next few years, however, Rewi submitted to the lens and formed a collection of self-images made in Taranaki and Auckland. His reported favourite was the most recent, a portrait made in June 1879 by the Pulman Studio in Auckland – perhaps because it recorded the eye-catching diamond ring he had recently received from the Native Minister. His own print of the image was proudly displayed to fellow chiefs and journalists, while other copies were soon circulating within the lucrative market for Māori portraits. It was the Pulman photograph, as opposed to a sitting from life, which generated the impressive portrait of Rewi that Lindauer produced for Partridge in 1882. In the painting, he is glamorised by a dog-skin cloak and whalebone weapon, while his shirt collar and diamond ring are naturally nowhere to be seen. Three years on, it was reported that Rewi was considering the commission of a £40 oil portrait for himself.

While acceptance was gradual and uneven, portraits steadily assumed the status of taonga and were stored together with prized heirlooms. In the unsettled days following the destruction of Parihaka in November 1881, many Taranaki communities suffered depredations at the hands of the Volunteer Corps who, while ostensibly searching for hidden arms, seemed more intent on hunting down greenstone curios:

Gottfried Lindauer, _Rewi Manga Maniapoto_ , 1882, oil on canvas, 996 × 842 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF MR H. E. PARTRIDGE, 1915

When Epiha went with his wife to dinner they found everything in the whare turned upside down, and two valuable greenstones, handed down from his ancestors, and two Maori kits of fancy work had been stolen. The greenstones were carefully wrapped up, with a photograph, in two pocket handkerchiefs. The handkerchiefs and photograph were left, but his green-stones were gone . . . . Epiha was at work in sight of the whare, and states that no one but the military went to it.

This was the experience of a chief at Waihī, near Waitara – an ally of the Europeans who had agreed to a search of his house – but it can stand for many similar cases.

If photographs were considered precious, oil portraits were particularly valuable taonga. In a last will and testament dated 11 January 1881 that was facilitated by Walter Buller, the Ngāti Kahungunu rangatira Rēnata Kawepō bequeathed to his nephew (described as 'adopted son') a collection of his most precious mere pounamu, together with 'taku ahua i te rakau koura' ('the oil painting of myself in a gilt frame') – the latter almost certainly a painting by Gottfried Lindauer. Listed at the head of his will, the mere and portrait represented his greatest treasures.

The Māori engagement with the painted portrait now demands closer attention. What precisely were some of the mechanisms that, to a degree seemingly unprecedented in other British colonies of settlement, led an indigenous population to patronise a European portrait painter?

### **WALTER BULLER: NATIVE LANDS AND NATIVE PORTRAITS**

The acquisition of prime land is the most urgent task for any settler colony and its achievement in New Zealand was a complex affair – one that is still ongoing in the twenty-first century. Something of this complexity was suggested by the gigantic Land Tenure Map, one of the Survey Department's exhibits at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition in 1886. Measuring 10 × 8 feet, and drawn on a scale of 8 miles to the inch, the 'beautifully executed' map showed:

in distinctive colours the land owned by Europeans, purchased from the Natives; the lands owned by Europeans, purchased from the Crown; the confiscated lands unsold; lands held by Natives under Crown title; lands over which the Native titles have not yet been extinguished; Native lands under negotiation to purchase by the Government; Crown lands still unsold, and public reserves; Crown lands leased for pasture; and lands reserved for Native purposes.

The Land Tenure Map was paired with a Physical Map, the rollers of both 'designed in imitation of the Maori _taiaha_ , which is a symbol of friendship between Maori tribes in amity with one another'. According to the _New Zealand Times_ , the tenure map would provoke great interest, 'as showing to the eye in a graphic form the actual settlement and occupation of the Colony'.

The close connection between the radical changes in land tenure documented by the map – the conversion of communally owned Māori land to individualised title – and the spectacular collection of curios and portraits displayed at the exhibition by Dr Walter Buller were invisible to most visitors to the exhibition. As Buller later explained to a London journalist: 'I have many personal friends among the leading chiefs whose language, of course, I speak fluently. I am also the possessor of no fewer than seven of their greenstone meres – the badge of chieftainship – given me by representative chiefs on different state occasions.' That the 'state' occasions in question effectively comprised massive real estate transactions, in which Buller notoriously took profitable retainers and daily fees from more than one party, was neither here nor there. Like many of the chiefly taonga over which he gloated, the portraits arrived as perks in a business that, in 1882, Buller estimated was earning him a staggering six to eight thousand pounds per year.

It was his fluency in the language and deep familiarity with the Māori world that led to Buller's appointment, first as a resident magistrate and, from 1865, as a judge in the Native Land Court which was set up to regulate the commodification of the land. Following admission to the bar in 1874, he moved into the more lucrative line of representing claimants before the court. The highly exploitative nature of the business, in which rival claimants frequently agreed to sell to uphold their mana over lost land, was beyond question. A biting critique is offered by Rod McDonald – son of the earliest Horowhenua settler, Hector McDonald – in his 1929 reminiscence of the lands with which Buller was fatefully entwined:

Behind the Government lion came the pack of private jackals, who made a good meal off the scraps from the lordly killing. By making it possible to carry on disputes, by encouraging appeals and counter-appeals, and in the more legitimate, but not less profitable, sphere of ordinary professional service, there were excellent pickings. Lastly there was the richest field of all, in lending money to distressed Maoris on the security of land at a more or less exorbitant rate of interest – that was unimportant since it was never expected that the interest would be paid – and as the victim's distress became more acute, buying the land at a figure to suit the purchaser.

These manipulative dealings, in which a range of officialdom colluded, underlie the 1975 establishment of the Waitangi Tribunal that was tasked with investigating historical Māori grievances.

Conveyance agreement between Hema Te Ao & Ropata Te Ao and James Gear, 5 November 1878, ink and watercolour on parchment, 336 × 228 mm. REX NAN KIVELL COLLECTION, NATIONAL LIBRARY OF AUSTRALIA, MS4246/61, NK4168

Many transactions took the form of straightforward sales, as in November 1878 when Buller and Lewis, solicitors of Wellington, facilitated Hema and Ropata Te Ao's sale of the 205-acre Muhunoa No. 2 Block to the entrepreneurial butcher James Gear for £400. The third page of the illuminated parchment that documented the sale includes a Māori-language 'Abstract of Contents', verified as a 'True Statement' by W. L. Buller, Licensed Interpreter. Beneath this 'Abstract', the extent of the landholding on the Ōhau River was delineated by a red boundary on the plan. Yet the provision of credit secured against mortgages was also central to Buller's modus operandi. In July 1877 Buller's partner William Miller Lewis initiated his personal acquisition of the 512-acre Te Rimu Block on the Whangaehu River by extending £100 (at 12 per cent interest per annum) to ten Māori mortgagors. Their respective signatures and marks were affixed to an elaborate document, together with those of several resident magistrates and licensed interpreters. To compound the impossibility of repayment, Lewis shrewdly advanced a further £100 in the following year. It was a high-stakes business. The strategic loan of £500 extended to his friend the Whanganui chief Taitoko Keepa Te Rangihiwinui allowed Buller to convert the lease on Papaitonga, his country estate near Levin, into freehold – a controversial acquisition that would lead in the mid-1890s to a Royal Commission and attendant public vilification.

Conveyance agreement between Hema Te Ao & Ropata Te Ao and James Gear, showing the Māori-language 'Abstract of Contents'.

It was Buller's desire to patronise the artist that induced Lindauer to remain definitively in New Zealand for, as Lindauer's son recorded, around 1882 the artist had sold his possessions and was preparing to return to Europe. Instead, Buller persuaded him to seek commissions from Māori claimants attending the upcoming Native Land Court sessions in the frontier town of Cambridge. The 1882–83 sittings brought together an enormous throng of claimants to the Waikato tribal lands that, until recently, had remained largely inaccessible to Europeans. Setting up a temporary studio in the town, Lindauer attracted attention through his favoured technique of street-front display. A portrait of Wī Tako Ngātata, painted earlier in Wellington, appeared in the window of Hughes' chemist shop with immediate impact:

The natives assembled _en masse_ in front of the shop to offer their greeting and to sing a waiata composed years ago in honour of this chief. . . . The portrait of Wi Tako is so realistic that when first exhibited here old Hakariwhi, of the Ngatihaua, could not resist the temptation to rub noses with the picture, giving expression at the same time to the usual mihi.

Mortgage agreement between Epiha Taika & others and William Miller Lewis Esq, 27 July 1877, ink and watercolour on paper, 375 × 485 mm. REX NAN KIVELL COLLECTION, NATIONAL LIBRARY OF AUSTRALIA, MS7746/24, NK4183

The studio also showed a portrait of the Hawke's Bay chief Rēnata Kawepō, and his young wife Puketapu. The display of portraits of great chiefs such as Wī Tako and Kawepō was undoubtedly designed to instil emulation on the part of the Waikato chiefs.

Three months later, Lindauer provoked a temporary depletion of attendance at the Land Court with his 'counterattraction' of a portrait of King Tāwhiao, commissioned by Buller. Lindauer had already painted Tāwhiao for Partridge, based on a photograph made at Whatiwhatihoe. For his own portrait, Buller ensured that the king was shown holding the celebrated whalebone kotiate (short club) named Apanui that he had gifted to Buller – one of the 'badges of chieftainship' that were soon to be on show in London. There was also a portrayal of the celebrated tohunga Te Aokatoa that had been commissioned by Major Jackson of the Auckland Colonisation Company – one of Buller's retainers. The aged Te Aokatoa was a particularly feared tohunga, or Māori priest, who had officiated at the ceremonies of the Hauhau cult that arose during the colonial wars of the 1860s. Interestingly, it was said to be Māori desire that ensured his depiction: 'The venerable man is blind from sheer old age, and his tribe were so anxious to preserve his likeness that they brought him down from Aotearoa expressly for that purpose.' This commentator measured Lindauer's success by the 'unbounded delight [given] to the natives from all parts of the district', while he mused on the undoubted value of a permanent collection of such works.

As the leading lawyer and effective grandee of the hearings, Buller's importance in facilitating Lindauer's work cannot be underestimated. When King Tāwhiao visited the town on 16 May 1883, attended by 150 horsemen, the court adjourned for the day in order that Buller could host Tāwhiao at Kirkwood's Hotel; Tāwhiao's followers meanwhile received gifts of food and were billeted with Ngāti Raukawa. Soon afterwards, Lindauer was working on life-sized portraits of Tāwhiao's favourite wife, Ngāhuia, and of his close advisors, Manuhiri and Wahanui. That Buller enriched himself at the expense of Māori land claimants was evident to the claimants themselves, including Hitiri Te Paerata, who in February 1883 denounced Buller for dragging out the cases in order to enhance his fees. Nevertheless, by deciding to commission a portrait from Lindauer, Te Paerata unwittingly ensured that his portrait would also enter Buller's collection. A celebrated hero of the defence of Ōrākau in the Waikato war of two decades earlier, Te Paerata evinces the Māori attire that accorded perfectly with Buller's desire for ethnographic verisimilitude. While Te Paerata's gaze is averted in Buller's portrait, the version commissioned by Major John Wilson suggests that the subject's own portrait likely possessed a more direct gaze. A similarly frank gaze distinguishes the portrait that Te Paerata commissioned from Joseph Gaut in 1885.

In 1900 Lindauer informed a journalist that 'Sir Walter Buller has been one of my most liberal patrons'. Yet it would be wrong to take this statement at face value, for Victor Lindauer's reminiscences record that Buller exacted a half-length portrait worth £30 in exchange for every £200 worth of commissions that he secured from Māori clients. Not only does this explain the frequent appearance of Buller's name in Lindauer's notebook, which is listed alongside subjects' names and the prices they were paying, but it further suggests that Buller was able to accumulate his portrait collection completely free of charge. That the system was susceptible to abuse is revealed by a letter dated 2 November 1885, sent to Buller by Anihera Reina (or Rema), who disputes the £20 she is being asked to pay for a portrait that does not resemble her. 'This portrait is not at all like me, because you did not invite me to come to the place where the portrait was begun, so that you two could know what I looked like.' Anihera's letter additionally suggests that Lindauer's prowess in working from photographs had its limitations.

Gottfried Lindauer, _Hitiri Te Paerata_ , 1883, oil on canvas, 1090 × 825 mm. BULLER COLLECTION, WHANGANUI REGIONAL MUSEUM, 1928.57.6

Gottfried Lindauer, _Hitiri Te Paerata_ , 1883, oil on canvas, 870 × 685 mm. AUCKLAND MUSEUM, PD-1952-1-1, PRESENTED BY SIR WILLIAM GOODFELLOW, 1952

Buller's collection of Lindauer paintings now resides in the Whanganui Regional Museum, donated by his daughter Laura. The sizeable collection of taonga Māori is mean while held by Te Papa, presented to the Dominion Museum in 1911 by his son Leo. Announcing the gift, Buller's son described the collection as 'probably the most important that has ever been brought together in New Zealand' and stated his desire that it be known as 'The Buller Collection'. Gratefully accepting the gift, Prime Minister Sir Joseph Ward referred to a collection 'gathered . . . at so great a cost of labour and money'. It certainly held extraordinary things, including the elaborate porch carvings of the pātaka Te Takinga – as central to the 1886 London display as it still is in Te Papa's current Māori exhibition – and rare dog-skin cloaks in exceptional condition that Buller had acquired in 1838.

Exhibition labels at Te Papa do not consistently reference an entity known as the Buller Collection; instead, in fine print, they credit Leo Buller for the 1911 donation. Partly, this is due to the prioritising of tribal ownership within the Māori displays, whereby Te Takinga is primarily presented as a taonga belonging to Ngāti Pikiao, but it can also be identified as a subtle form of _damnatio memoriæ_ in relation to the overweening ambitions of a man whose status and wealth was so firmly based on the impoverishment of Māori communities. The paintings at Whanganui Regional Museum, acquired on the back of the Māori commissions, have appeared at the museum in tandem with superbly preserved examples of the Māori-owned works that Buller helped to bring into existence. Titled _Te Pātaka Whakaahua_ , the storehouse of portraits, this display at least made muted acknowledgement of Buller, as opposed to the complete omission of his name in an illustrated guidebook of the Lindauer portraits published by the museum in 1962. This contrasts with the honour accorded by Māori to Lindauer himself, as exemplified by the garlands of greenery that were placed by visitors to _Te Maori: Te Hokinga Mai_ at the Auckland Art Gallery in 1987 around the bronze bust of Gottfried Lindauer by Allen Hutchinson, commissioned by Henry Partridge to accompany his unparalleled collection of the artist's work.

While documenting the widespread Māori enthusiasm for portraiture, this chapter has also characterised Māori immersion into this culture as exploitative and clearly serving Pākehā interests. Most importantly, by sitting for photographs, Māori individuals provided the means for photographers to satisfy the insatiable market for Māori 'types'. Commissions from leading Māori for painted portraits significantly enriched Gottfried Lindauer, together with the portrait collections of the Māori world, but these commissions additionally facilitated the replication – or variation – of selected portraits for the benefit of Pākehā collectors such as Walter Buller. The portrayal from life of the aged tohunga Te Aokatoa was an initiative of his own people, who thereby obtained the portrait of their venerable priest on the eve of his demise. However, the event itself was almost certainly orchestrated by Buller, who later commissioned _The Tohunga: Te Aokatoa_ (1898), a life-sized depiction of the fearsome tohunga in a state of tapu that is now in the Whanganui Regional Museum.

_Some Birds of New Zealand_ , photolithograph, 400 × 295 mm, _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1912, p. 18. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1551-18

## CHAPTER SEVEN

## _Pākehā Propaganda_

AROUND THE TURN OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, print media underwent radical change as colour printing and photomechanical reproductive techniques transformed the nature of pictorial material in circulation. The reproducibility of photographs in the mass media undoubtedly heightened Māori concerns over images and their uses, while it brought Maoriland into national and international focus. Māori depictions of all sorts, including portraits, historicising illustrations, and photographs of carvings and museum displays, provided grist for journals that sought to signal their distinctive New Zealand origins. Many leading Maoriland artists, including L. J. Steele and Kennett Watkins, produced work explicitly for publication, while C. F. Goldie commissioned photographs to allow images of his celebrated paintings to appear in the pages of the _New Zealand Graphic_ , _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ and other periodicals. A young locally born artist who cut his teeth within this mass-media context was Trevor Lloyd, who went on to enjoy a long and prolific career as a satirical illustrator and fine-art printmaker. Not only did Lloyd place Māori issues at the centre of his practice as a satirist, but he notably subjected Maoriland artistic practice to satirical treatment. That he was a major collector – as well as probable author – of Māori objects should not be surprising.

The international transmission of 'Maoriland' was affected as well by developments in the quality of transportation from one hemisphere to another. Beginning in the later 1870s, the San Francisco mail service revolutionised the passage of objects and people between New Zealand and the motherland. Bypassing Australia and Suez, which formerly offered the faster route, the 'Frisco mail presented an increasingly attractive passenger route to and from London. By 1905, the combination of steamships and transcontinental railway meant that a traveller could span the globe in a mere 27 days, as opposed to the months required during the earlier period of sail. In 1876 New Zealand finally achieved its connection to the global telegraphic network, an event which collapsed the traditional tyranny of time and space and transformed industries such as journalism and banking. Nevertheless, the three-weekly sailing schedule of the 'Frisco mail had a palpable impact as quantities of books and newspapers flooded into the colony; in May 1879 the SS _Taiaroa_ delivered 18,765 books and 12,346 newspapers – most which hailed from 'Home'. The return voyages bore cultural cargoes of equivalent importance.

The sailing schedule of these ships – as well as the wealthy tourists they carried – had a marked influence on the local economy. A journalist in 1892 noted how:

the departure of these 'Frisco boats appears to keep us in touch with Europe far more nearly than any steamers going via Australia can or could do. Auckland looks a different place on mail days, and the Post Office has a busy aspect almost metropolitan. Numerous industries and enterprises have been called into existence by this regular service. The curio sellers do the bulk of their month's trade on that day, and the New Zealand woodworkers would tell the same tale. Anything Maori takes the fancy of the passing visitor, and the trade in old carvings is astonishing. Not the least important or pleasing of the numerous features of mail day is the special number of the 'New Zealand Graphic,' which invariably contains matter and pictures of a high class, and of special interest to Europeans.

_The New Land to the Old: A Greeting by Telephone_ , photolithograph, 405 × 305 mm, _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1899, frontispiece. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1554-FRONTIS

Such 'special numbers' included the elaborate Christmas numbers that were issued by all the metropolitan weekly journals, publications that were expressly engineered for long-range transmission through the mail. As the early November deadline loomed for sending Christmas greetings to the Old Country, advertisements promoted the _Graphic_ as 'an epitome of all that is most beautiful in the colony, and most interesting in colonial life, and at the same time the most suitable memento that could be sent abroad'. Advertisements typically stressed the multi-tasking capacities of these attractively illustrated journals:

As a proof to our far away friends that we have not forgotten them, as a substitute for a letter, as an advertisement of the colony, and as a means of giving genuine pleasure, this [1901] publication is unrivalled. It is admitted on all hands to be the most artistically complete production that has appeared.

The cover of the 1901 Christmas number featured a Māori belle, complete with chin moko, greenstone ear pendant and huia feather. In addition to this predictable emphasis on aspects of Māori culture, illustrations could also stress the connection between the hemispheres that was an important raison d'être of their publication. The frontispiece of the _Graphic_ 's 1899 Christmas number juxtaposed two photo-montaged European girls – one dressed for winter, the other for summer – who improbably engage in a telephone conversation across the globe.

In the 1890s the literary content of the _New Zealand Graphic_ communicated a nuanced picture of social life in the colony. Plots involving interracial romance appeared in a noteworthy number of published stories, contributed by readers and accompanied by commissioned illustrations. 'Only a Maori' of 1893, by Herbert A. R. Huggins, narrated a love story between a Māori boy and a Pākehā girl. The illustration by Robert Hawcridge, depicting the courting couple in a vignette within a lush landscape, bore the caption 'They were avowed lovers'. Of the three prize-winning essays featured in the 1899 edition, first and second prizes were awarded for Māori–Pākehā love stories – 'Algernon Charteris Esq.' by G. E. Grey of Wellington, and 'Waitohi' by Mrs K. Allan of Nelson. Another favoured genre, in both poems and stories, invoked the ancient Māori past; a popular twist in this theme included characters mysteriously translated from modern to ancient worlds (and sometimes back again).

Robert Hawcridge, _They Were Avowed Lovers_ , photolithograph, 405 × 305 mm, _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1893, p. 17. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1553-17

The role played by artists in these journals changed significantly around the turn of the century when photolithographic reproductive methods allowed the inclusion of photographs. This was when the _Graphic_ became increasingly formulaic, its illustrations frequently lacking attribution to originating photographers and even explanation of the content. For example, there is no way for the reader to know that the spectacular assemblage titled _A Quaint Collection of Maori Gods, Weapons, Implements and Carvings_ , reproduced in the Christmas number of 1906, is by the photographer W. H. T. Partington and documents Samuel Drew's museum at Whanganui [see p. 136]. The recycling of decontextualised imagery could even lead to tongue-in-cheek humour, as in the deadpan presentation in 1912 of _Some Birds of New Zealand_. While the moa is listed in the caption as 'now extinct', what were readers 'at Home' expected to make of the two Māori 'hunters' posing alongside a rearing and fully feathered specimen of the famed giant bird? How could they know that it was a spoof conjured in the local botanical gardens by the Dunedin photographer Guy Morris, that the moa was on loan from the Otago Museum, and that the hunters were medical students from the University of Otago?

Over this same period, the increasing sophistication of colour printing techniques intensified the role of specialists in colour lithography who assisted in producing commemorative 'supplements' that were explicitly intended for collecting and framing. The 1904 Christmas _Graphic_ , which modestly billed itself as 'the most beautiful and artistic number issued south of the line', featured as a magnificent 'presentation plate' Walter Wright's _An Evening Scene, Lake Rotorua_ :

This is unquestionably the finest Art Supplement yet given to the public in New Zealand. It represents Maori women washing clothes and cooking round the hot springs which abound on the Ohinemutu shores of Lake Rotorua. An exquisite production, which will be framed for the walls of thousands of drawing rooms, not merely in New Zealand, but all over the Empire.

Philip R. Presants after Wilhelm Dittmer, _'Mana'_ , 1905, chromolithograph, 625 × 435 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-067-001

It was a matter of pride that such an exquisite chromolithograph – printed in no fewer than twelve colours – could be produced in New Zealand. ' _Special Attention_ is drawn to the fact that the "Graphic" does not go beyond the Colony for such work. The picture is a New Zealand Picture, by a New Zealand Artist, and has been printed by New Zealand Workmen.' Accompanying the colour print were 'Superb Supplements' printed in sepia tints, featuring 'Wonderful Whakarewarewa', 'Maggie Papakura', and 'An Old-time Warrior'.

_New Zealand Illustrated_ was the Christchurch _Weekly Press_ 's Christmas number, which successfully competed in the marketing of collectible chromolithographs. In 1904 Phineas Selig, the energetic publisher of the _Press_ , orchestrated a coup in the form of a superbly produced, almost same-sized reproduction of C. F. Goldie's _A Hot Day_. Goldie's 1901 depiction of Pātara Te Tuhi, snoozing in the sun in European attire, was accessible to Selig because it had been acquired by the Canterbury Society of Arts when shown with the society in 1902. The following year the _Press_ issued an even more spectacular souvenir print, which this time bore appropriate attribution to Philip R. Presants – manager of the lithographic department until his departure in 1909. Determined to exploit the commercial allure of the Māori portrait, Selig targeted the itinerant German artist Wilhelm Dittmer for the rights to reproduce a spectacular painting titled _'Mana'_ – a portrait of Ngāti Tūwharetoa paramount chief Te Heuheu Tūkino V. In December 1904, on the occasion of the picture's triumphant showing in the McGregor Wright gallery in Wellington, the _Press_ reprinted an effusive review from the _Evening Post_ that recorded Dittmer's intention 'to exhibit his very striking picture in the colony and then to take it to England and the Continent'. In the event, _'Mana'_ and a number of other paintings by Dittmer entered the collections of the Colonial Museum.

_'Mana'_ depicted Te Heuheu Tūkino V – 'a strong warrior lost in deep musing over the fame of his ancestors' – dressed in a finely woven kaitaka and seated in the doorway of a wharenui. The tribal 'mana', which Dittmer glosses as 'power' of the ancestors, resided in the famous mere that the chief holds. Called Pahikaure, the mere had been buried in a massive landslip that engulfed Mananui Te Heuheu Tūkino II, the reigning chief's grandfather, and had been exhumed along with the bodies of the chief and his family. Presumably working from the actual painting, the loan of which Selig must have negotiated, Presants demonstrated his prowess in the complicated chromolithographic process, in which each colour was printed in succession. Nevertheless, while produced on a more ambitious scale than the earlier Goldie print, it could hardly emulate the imposing size of the original painting. To build on this success, the _Press_ issued a companion picture by Dittmer for their 1906 supplement. _The Keeper of Pahikaure_ portrayed Te Rerehau Kahotea, wife of Te Heuheu, in a sumptuous kākā-feather and dog-fur-trimmed cloak, holding the imposing weapon. The accompanying letterpress provided an intriguing description of the mere's power to foretell the future: 'Greyish veins run through the greenstone, and the tribe believes that the approaching death of its chief is signalled by the darkening of these veins.' When commenting on this and other works shown by Dittmer at McGregor Wright's in July 1905, the _Evening Post_ reviewer commented: 'They are works of art expressive of a time which is no more.'

Philip R. Presants after Wilhelm Dittmer, _The Keeper of Pahikaure_ , 1906, chromolithograph, 575 × 370 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-067-002

This then was the paradox offered by these illustrated journals in this period: ultramodern formats that marketed New Zealand with a blend of nostalgic imagery and shameless promotion. With the establishment of the Department of Tourist and Health Resorts (cable address: 'Maoriland'), reputedly the first such government agency in the world, whole-page advertisements targeted settlers and tourists alike. Banner headlines announced that New Zealand was 'the Healthiest Country in the World!', 'the Ideal Home for the Man of Leisure!', 'only a Month's Journey from London'. A later advertisement touted 'the Highest Proportion of Wealth per Head of any Country' and 'the Lowest Death Rate in the World'. Trevor Lloyd, Auckland's leading cartoonist of the early twentieth century, cut his teeth as an illustrator with the _New Zealand Graphic_. His contributions to the 1902 Christmas number offered a spectrum of imagery that ranged from an idyllic rendering of the Māori past ( _Before the Pakeha Came_ ) to an evocation of the touristic present ( _Deer Stalking in New Zealand_ ). Particularly telling, however, is a double-page spread in which a bucolic Māori encampment in the foreground is contrasted with a Pākehā farm in the middle distance. The twilight scene carries the title _'The Old Order Changeth'_ , the motto of the disbanded Art Students' Association, and the apparently benign image is clearly intended as an allegory of expanding Pākehā hegemony over the land. Land and its ownership would become a staple topic within Lloyd's satirical output, which – in line with the platform of his conservative employers – promoted the freeholding of land on behalf of Pākehā farmers by casting Māori as incapable of proper management of their traditional lands.

Trevor Lloyd, _'The Old Order Changeth'_ , photolithograph, 410 × 570 mm, _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1902, pp. 18–19. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1555-18/19

### **TREVOR LLOYD: INDIGENOUS ARTIST?**

Was Trevor Lloyd the 'first artist who really absorbed Maori culture', as argued by his great-nephew, whose best works are 'intensely New Zealand metaphors, of people and their "being in the world"'? Was he really 'never known to offend the susceptibilities of a sensitive race', as asserted by his obituarist? Or, as others have claimed, might many of his humorous drawings and prints be pandering to racially insulting stereotypes, intended to amuse Pākehā at the expense of Māori? While there is a small group of individualised portraits within Lloyd's oeuvre of prints, they comprise generic depictions of melancholic Māori that bear titles like _Shadows of the Past_. Lloyd's importance lies not in this field of romanticised depictions but rather in his production of widely circulated imagery that canvasses topical issues of the day, work that pointedly includes satirical savaging of the ethnological art produced by his contemporaries.

Trevor Lloyd, _Santa Claus in Trouble at a Maori Pah_ , photolithograph, 320 × 470 mm, _Auckland Weekly News Christmas Number_ , 1904, p. 19. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, S-L-1552-19

Born in 1863 to a farming family at Silverdale, Lloyd spent his entire life in the Auckland province. He moved to Auckland in the later 1890s, when a course of painting lessons with L. J. Steele represented the entirety of his art training. He exhibited landscape paintings with the Auckland Society of Arts for several years from 1896 and in 1901 began his quest to establish an identity as an illustrator. His first assignment for the _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ was to illustrate an essay by Elsdon Best on Māori warfare. In 1903 he took up his long-serving role as cartoonist and illustrator for the _New Zealand Herald_ and _Auckland Weekly News_ , working until his retirement in 1936 – the year before his death. Inspired by his daughter's printmaking studies at the Elam School of Art, Lloyd took up etching and drypoint around 1920. This was an activity that his obituary termed a 'recreation', but which nevertheless resulted in an impressive corpus of prints that he exhibited with the Auckland Society of Arts between 1922 and 1937.

Lloyd's frivolous streak found ample room to play in the decorative borders with which the _Auckland Weekly News_ animated its montages of photographs – especially in the highly decorative Christmas editions. Apart from these playful exercises in design, Lloyd contributed ambitious full-page compositions which by now featured the menagerie of imps, fairy figures and native animals that would become a signature of this artist. Examples include _Santa Claus in Trouble at a Maori Pah_ and _Santa Claus in his Maoriland Depot_ , from the 1904 and 1906 Christmas numbers respectively. Simultaneously light-hearted and serious, these works were intended to amuse and entertain, but there is no doubt that they were also expected to receive respect as works of graphic art. In 1907 Lloyd exhibited his best-known work of this type with the Auckland Society of Arts. A sizeable watercolour with a price tag of ten guineas, _Te Tangi o te Moa_ was an elaborate fantasia depicting the birds of the forest and sundry tuatara and fairy figures gathered to mourn the last of the moa. The patupaiarehe, or Māori fairy figures, populated Lloyd's later book illustrations as well as fine-art etchings such as _A Hot Scent_ , which shows the discovery of an ale bottle in the landscape. Priced between two and three guineas, the highly collectible etchings and dry-points must have bolstered Lloyd's income in later years. Nevertheless, the humorous vein that runs through his work – in tandem with his professional employment as an illustrator and caricaturist – together ensured his inability to secure a solid reputation in the world of fine arts. Within exhibitions of imposing oil paintings by the likes of Goldie and Watkins, Lloyd's 'quaint' offerings must have seemed lightweight indeed.

Trevor Lloyd, _A Hot Scent_ , etching, 157 × 260 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF CONNIE AND OLIVE LLOYD, 1973

Reviewing a retrospective of 150 works by Lloyd that was staged at the Rotorua Art Gallery in 1983, Peter Shaw expressed the view that '[t]o modern eyes Lloyd's finest work can be seen in the line etchings he made of New Zealand bush scenes'. While acknowledging the exhibition's noteworthy inclusion of an entire range of the versatile artist's work – oils, political cartoons, book illustrations, Māori carvings and postcards – Shaw thought that '[t]hese last bring one face to face with an aspect of Lloyd's work which is disturbing to modern eyes':

At a time when there is a growing and long-overdue recognition of the fact that the depiction of the Maori as grinning savages is racist in origin, Lloyd's peculiar humour has lost some of the appeal it may have had. To describe it as 'period' is all very well but does not disguise the distaste one feels faced with the picture of a grinning, toothless old Maori sniffing a rose and captioned with the words 'Kapai te Stink'. There is another which shows a similarly aged chief with the upper set of his false teeth embedded in the apple which he is holding in his hand. This kind of 'Hey Boy' humour is today rightly regarded as racially insulting.

Despite congratulating the gallery on the overall quality of a 'warts-and-all exhibition', Shaw would have preferred to see 'a greater proportion of exhibits devoted to the artist's more obviously picturesque work'. Trevor Lloyd, the artist's eponymous great-nephew, similarly hailed the fine-art etchings as Lloyd's most significant creations: 'He was a pioneer of the art of etching in New Zealand, an artist with an unsurpassed vision of New Zealand bush, perhaps the first artist who really absorbed Maori culture, a fine interpreter of the Auckland landscape, and one of New Zealand's foremost political cartoonists from 1904 to 1936.'

A strikingly different take on Lloyd and his work is to be found in an essay by the American historian Matthew Basso: 'Trevor Lloyd, Native Land, and the Contest over European Racial Imagination in New Zealand'. Basso argues that, despite his reputation as a specialist in things Māori, Lloyd's real expertise instead lay in his canny exploitation of the Pākehā mindset to which his Māori 'humour' was directed. Much of this satire depended on imaging Māori inadequacy in the face of European civilisation – hence the false teeth embedded in the apple, or the 'pidgin' English utterances – as well as the routine presentation of generic Māori women as sexually available entities. Following Nicholas Thomas, Basso identifies a 'subversive core' in the ethnographic art of New Zealand, where 'the practice of incorporation of indigenous iconography into all forms of representation – and there is no better example of this than Lloyd – reminded some viewers that indigenous populations continued to thrive'. While the 'fine-art' portrait etchings tend towards the 'dying race' approach exemplified by Goldie – presenting noble survivors in traditional attire – the cartoons are another story altogether.

_The Kings of Te Kuiti_ , which appeared in the _Auckland Weekly News_ on 13 February 1908 (and is reproduced here from the original drawing), can stand for many similar works. Hardworking Pākehā farmers are depicted as the slaves of obese and indolent Māori landlords, with a bottle of 'cold tea' prominent amid the picturesque chaos of the scene – a reference to the officially 'dry' status of the King Country. The pervasiveness of alcohol throughout Lloyd's satirical corpus, while intended as comical, nevertheless reminded viewers of the powerful assistance that this drug provided to the business of land alienation. Native Land Court sessions, including the extended Cambridge sittings of 1882–83 at which Lindauer secured so many sittings, notoriously generated alcohol-fuelled 'holidays' that were capable of consuming the proceeds of the actual sales. Another pointed cartoon that remained in the artist's collection, originally titled _The Proceeds of the First Land Sale_ , foregrounded three smiling Māori eagerly sniffing a bottle of rum, while behind them a farmer is seen driving survey pegs along the boundary of his newly acquired property. Lloyd's employers changed the title to _A Drunken Threesome_.

Trevor Lloyd, _The Kings of Te Kuiti_ , 1908, ink and watercolour on paper, 300 × 430 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-109-024

Basso further identifies a compulsion by Lloyd to address the works of Goldie – the result, he argues, of 'the challenge Goldie's images posed to the racial politics Lloyd championed'. He is referring to an extraordinary series of five cartoons that appeared in the _Auckland Weekly News_ between 1905 and 1909, in which Lloyd satirises the annual exhibitions of the Auckland Society of Arts. This was precisely the period in which Goldie's Māori subjects dominated these exhibitions, a prominence that is echoed in Lloyd's satirical responses. In 1905 a leering Te Aho-o-te-rangi Wharepū – the bowler-hatted, smiling subject of _'All 'e Same t'e Pakeha'_ – raises a bottle of rum to his lips; alongside, as 'A Hero of Many Fights', he appears heavily bandaged from the conflict. In 1907 'A Noble Relic of a Vanished Feast' satirises a painting titled _A Noble Relic of a Noble Race_ , whose subject now grasps a human leg-bone in place of the original taiaha. The following year, 'A Noble specimen of a fast vanishing race' presents a female subject grimacing in pain as a tooth is extracted, while 'Oh tuck me in my little bed' mocks a work that Goldie variously titled _The Last Sleep_ and _The Kingdom of Death_ – a now lost depiction of Īna Te Papatahi, depicted as if being mourned at a tangi. Basso persuasively argues that Lloyd's persistent debunking of the memorialising aspect of Goldie's work was intended to undermine the notion that the passing of the chiefs – or of the entire race – was a matter worthy of any regret.

Trevor Lloyd, _The Proceeds of the First Land Sale_ , 1908, ink and watercolour on paper, 362 × 530 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-109-022

The work of other ethnologically oriented artists is subjected to similar mockery in Lloyd's cartoons. In 1908 'The coming of the fleet' (lower left) updates Kennett Watkins' _Departure of Six Canoes_ by decorating the vessels with American flags and placing Uncle Sam at the tiller of the nearest canoe. In 1909 it is the turn of L. J. Steele's _Spoils to the Victor_ to be lampooned. The bound woman is now smoking a pipe and wearing a headscarf, while the unconscious warrior has awoken to ask: 'Is this what I have been fighting for?' Lloyd's caricatures reveal an iconoclastic attitude towards current tendencies in art, as well as a degree of contempt for exhibitions from which (1907 being an exception) he remained entirely aloof.

Trevor Lloyd, _A Visit to the Auckland Society of Arts Exhibition by our Comic Artist_ , 1905, ink and watercolour on paper, 362 × 530 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-109-014

Trevor Lloyd, _Some Impressions of the Auckland Society of Arts 26th Annual Exhibition_ , 1907, ink and watercolour on paper, 340 × 480 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-109-018

Trevor Lloyd, _Our Comic Artist's Impressions of the Auckland Society of Arts Annual Exhibition_ , 1908, ink and watercolour on paper, 363 × 520 mm. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, C-109-033

Trevor Lloyd, _A Lesson in Natural History_ , c. 1936, etching, 127 × 168 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, GIFT OF CONNIE AND OLIVE LLOYD, 1983

Peter Shaw proposed that Lloyd's fine-art etchings were free from the casual Pākehā racism which pervades so much of the satirical work, but this is arguably not the case. Some of the humorous works, such as _A Hot Scent_ , may exist on a borderline. However, _A Lesson in Natural History_ – an apparently light-hearted etching produced late in life _–_ crosses into distinctly offensive territory. As a group of fairy-figure students hold their noses, the fairy teacher points to an illustration of an impressive-looking insect. It is the native cockroach, infamous for its unpleasant odour and known colloquially as the 'Maori bug'. Once widely used as an offensive term to describe Māori, the expression 'Maori bug' is now understandably taboo. Watercolour drawings such as _Te Toff_ , which relate to Lloyd's satirical renderings of Māori adopting European fashions, rely on a primitivist notion that Māori should be frozen in a timeless wardrobe of cloaks and piupiu. Rather than being confined to the cartoons and book illustrations, it could instead be argued that Lloyd's everyday racism saturates his entire body of work.

### **LLOYD'S COLLECTING**

Trevor Lloyd's deployment of Māori subjects and motifs for satirical purposes needs to be placed in relation to his activity as a collector. He acquired a substantial collection of Māori artefacts largely through fossicking expeditions along the west coast of Auckland, where the Lloyd family spent their holidays. The curio-hunting jaunts, on which he was often accompanied by his younger daughter, Olive, ranged over a wide sweep of coastline from Whatipū, near the Manukau Heads, up to the South Kaipara. According to his great-nephew: 'This was a time [the early twentieth century] when interest in Maori artifacts was growing and it was still acceptable for laymen to search for them.' Among his many discoveries were significant treasures, including a minimally worked, rectangular slab of greenstone unearthed from a cave at Karekare; the hefty stone 'could easily be imagined as a shrine for a family spirit or a tribal god'. When it was bequeathed to the Auckland Museum in 1982 by Lloyd's daughter Constance, ethnologist David R. Simmons summoned an elaborate, yet obviously imaginary, provenance:

The piece of greenstone has a long history. It is called Hukumau and was originally a gift of friendship from Ngati Porou and Ngati Kahungunu of the East Coast to Ngati Whatua. It was part of a marriage gift which was made to the East Coast by Ngai Tahu of the South Island. The marriage was that of Mahina a rangi of Ngai Tahu to Tuhoe – Ngati Kahungunu in the year 1835.

In 1860 at the Kohimarama conference, this portion of the gift was presented to Ngati Whatua. At the same time the name Te Puru o Tamaki was conferred on Watene Tautori [Tautari] the chief of Ngati Whatua. His descendant Tommy Downs, Te Puru o Tamaki died last year.

Simmons asked Lloyd's great-nephew for permission to acknowledge Ngāti Whātua as owners of the greenstone, while retaining Connie Lloyd's name as donor of the piece:

So in this way Miss Lloyd will be presenting it back to Ngati Whatua with the Museum acting as custodian of the treasure. This does not mean that the greenstone will ever leave the museum, although we may, at the request of Ngati Whatua, take it on to their marae for very special occasions.

Simmons effectively masked the authentic provenance of the greenstone (souvenired from a cave at Karekare) by inventing an elevated history for the piece, perhaps with the intention of ingratiating himself with the tangata whenua. The eventual fate of the stone, which measured 250 × 160 × 120 millimetres, is unknown; though accessioned into the collection on 4 March 1982 – the same day that Simmons wrote his letter to the great-nephew – the mysterious object can no longer be traced in the museum's collection.

Lloyd was an enthusiastic, if inept, woodcarver in the Māori style, whose work can be seen in the exuberant interior decoration of Whare Tane, the house he built on the slopes of Mount Eden. A sense of fun prevailed, with stair-posts and even light switches animated by carved faces with protruding tongues. Similar devices decorated a garden shed and garage, while, outside the front door, a crouching Māori figure cast in concrete supported a sundial. According to his great-nephew, Lloyd's Māori carving 'did not aim to be genuinely Maori'. It would be agreeable to think that these playful decorations, which have something in common with his satirical work, inhabited an entirely separate sphere from the genuine old pieces that he prized for his collection. A close friend, the writer Mona Gordon, described Lloyd's studio as 'piled with the overflow from a valuable collection of Maori relics which he had been building up through the years'. She noted that '[t]here would always be something newly added to the wonderful collection of Maori relics – a greenstone pendant, a perfectly shaped bone mere or one of translucent jade, a taiaha with its bunch of feathers, and numerous smaller treasures difficult to come by in this prosaic age'. She also observed that the objects had not always been acquired by purchase: 'many were discovered by the artist during dozens of expeditions which he made, especially along the west coast northward from Manukau Heads'.

Gordon describes accompanying Lloyd and his family on a treasure hunt to a remote farm on the west coast, where an acquaintance had found an ancient carving embedded in the bank of a stream.

The new find which Trevor Lloyd had come to view was the carved lintel of an ancient doorway, one end of which had been almost obliterated by the action of the water, but the other was wonderfully preserved owing to its burial in the creek-bank. Made of totara wood it was light yellow in colour, and bore as motif two very fine spiral designs pierced into airy lacework and affording a splendid example of native craftsmanship. Such a find, especially in these days, is rare indeed.

She recounted how the lintel carving returned with them to Auckland, occupying the front seat of the car, and that 'every now and then the artist would lovingly pass his fingers over its intricate surface'. The astonishing sequel to the story is struck out in the original typescript, suggesting Gordon's awareness that Lloyd's 'restoration' of the piece was out of order:

A few days later he showed it to me again. It was now stained a dark rich brown; the part obliterated by the water's action he had re-carved with such remarkable skill that it matched the perfect spiral exactly, and he had added eyes of shell where these had been lost.

By treating his acquisition in such a cavalier fashion, one that flouts then current notions of conservation, Lloyd exhibits a decided lack of respect both to the originating Māori artist and to the age-old patina of the artefact itself. Gordon attempts a more resounding and dignified conclusion: 'A late comer in the field of ethnological research he made many an unpromising area yield its treasures, and drew from the sands, where unconscious sunbathers idle, the relics of a race which touched the Stone Age.'

The unavoidable conclusion is that Trevor Lloyd was indulging in grave robbery, a criminal activity that – despite ceaseless lamentation by Māori – could in the early decades of the twentieth century still be perpetrated with impunity. How else could Lloyd make the macabre offer to a Polynesian Society member of 'old Maori teeth' – items that everyone knew were tapu? And what about the bunches of 'urukehu', or light-coloured human hair, 'hidden after being cut off because they were regarded as "tapu"', that he reported collecting from rock hollows near the Anawhata Stream? While Gordon thought that Lloyd's bespoke house was '[p]ervaded with an atmosphere of cultured peace, and evincing that love of the beautiful and the rare seldom achieved in the homes of a young country', it was a gracious effect that had been achieved in part through the remorseless desecration of wāhi tapu – sacred places of interment. Lloyd must have been aware of anguished letters on this topic published by Māori and sympathetic Pākehā commentators in response to reports of pillaged sites. Many were written by George Graham, the sole Pākehā member of the Akarana Maori Association and an acquaintance of Lloyd's, whose constant refrain was: 'What would be said if Maoris went and desecrated European graves?' Graham, who had a Māori wife and family as well as a wide circle of Māori informants, 'had never heard of a modern Maori rifling a grave in a pakeha cemetery and setting a skull in his drawing room as a curio to be exhibited proudly to his friends. He was sure that if such a thing happened there would be an outburst of public opinion.'

Lloyd's eagerness to modify the work of an ancient artist points to a further, equally controversial, matter – namely the likelihood that Lloyd was himself a creator of ancient artefacts. In an essay on 'The Faking of Maori Art', H. D. Skinner expressed his opinion that '[t]he most skilled Auckland expert was Trevor Lloyd':

The Hocken Library of Dunedin has in its collection a sheet of designs in water colour drawn by Lloyd. Among these designs are the _koropepe_ or snake-like amulets which were among his most successful achievements. Examples of his handiwork have been exhibited by the New Zealand metropolitan and provincial museums.

According to Skinner, who had made a special study of Māori amulets, 'the snake- _matau_ type of pendant is extremely rare in traditional Maori culture'. The very few provenanced examples included a partial specimen in the Otago Museum, and a complete one found by Augustus Hamilton and held in the Dominion Museum. Skinner claimed that '[t]hese rare finds probably provided Lloyd with models for his replicas', and it was the faker's fatal attraction to such uncommon and alluring forms that drew Skinner's attention to the _Drawings of Fakes_. If grave robbery impacts on the history of Māori art by stripping objects of provenance, the faking of unusual pieces surely exerts an equally damaging effect. Present in most museums and auction sales, ethnographic fakes regularly pass as indigenous works. Just as the photographs published in Hamilton's _Maori Art_ provided important inspiration to Māori carvers, so they proved of equal value for those seeking to fabricate convincing antiquities.

Lloyd's relationship to the Māori world was ambiguous. As Basso has shown, his satirical work asserted settler interests at the expense of tangata whenua, and his collecting behaviour palpably trampled on indigenous sensibilities. Nevertheless, he received commissions from Māori, such as for 'a special farewell song engrossed on parchment artistically ornamented in Whakairo Maori', a farewell gift in 1930 from the Māori ladies of Auckland to the Governor-General's wife, Lady Alice Fergusson. In 1935, two years before his death, Lloyd presented a carved tētere, or Māori trumpet, to Ngāti Whātua of Ōrākei – a donation fulsomely described by James Cowan as 'one of those unusual incidents of generosity and thoughtfulness from pakeha to Maori of which it is pleasant to hear':

Trevor Lloyd, _Drawings of Fakes_ , watercolour, pen and ink on paper, 322 × 508 mm. HOCKEN COLLECTIONS, UARE TAOKA O HĀKENA, UNIVERSITY OF OTAGO, 79/69

The custom of gift-making in New Zealand has usually been in the reverse direction. One generation after another of the Maori has stripped itself of its most prized ancestral treasures for transient distinguished visitors, in token of hospitality and respect. Museums and private collections abroad are full of greenstone meres and tikis and other articles presented to visitors of more or less importance to whom the impulsive son of the soil presented them in the instinctive desire to do honour to his fleeting guest. The visitor from overseas could never realise what these relics of the past meant to the donor thereof. I have often regretted to see this lavish gifting of precious weapons and other possessions to people who never by any possibility would make a return gift of equal value. Not that the Maori looked for such returns; the spirit of generous giving is in his blood.

Cowan described the pitiful state of the virtually landless Ōrākei community and termed Lloyd's gift 'a bugle signal to other citizens'. Of course, one wonders about the source of the trumpet; was it a concoction of Lloyd's, produced in the same studio in which he fashioned his cartoons, fine-art etchings and snake talismans, or might it have been plundered from an ancient deposit? One also wonders whether, like Colonel T. W. Porter before him, Lloyd regretted his depredations and wished to make amends.

It is almost as if Lloyd had several identities. While best known by his popular cartoons and illustrations – and credited with securing the personification of the New Zealander as a kiwi – he was simultaneously a noted producer of high-art etchings and a collector, dealer and faker of Māori art. It is telling that the residues of these various practices arrived at separate destinations. Donations of a collection of original satirical drawings were made to the Alexander Turnbull Library; a comprehensive set of etchings and drypoints went to the Auckland Art Gallery; and Māori objects joined other items that Lloyd had earlier presented to the Auckland Museum. However, Lloyd's complex identity as an artist and collector can be fully grasped only when these interlocking practices are considered _in toto_. Then the apparent charm of his cartoons can be counterbalanced against their distasteful messages. Then it is possible to appreciate the nuances of the great-nephew's celebration of Lloyd's intimate familiarity with the Waitākere Ranges and west coast, enjoyed 'both as an artist and as a seeker for Maori artifacts': 'His pungas, nikaus and flaxes have their roots here in a loam rich with old stone tools, rotted carvings, pieces of greenstone. The trees and the detail with which they are realised are, in a way, at one with the detritus of the ancient Pacific culture which their roots hold.'

Stéphane Pannemaker, after Gustave Doré, _The New Zealander_ , wood engraving, 236 × 188 mm, Gustave Doré and Blanchard Jerrold, _London: A Pilgrimage_ , London: Grant & Co., 1872. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, B-K-1230-188 PLATE 1

## CHAPTER EIGHT

## _Cosmopolitan Maoriland_

BY THE LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY, expanding Pākehā knowledge of Māori culture was matched by Māori knowledge, not only of the Pākehā world around them, but also of its deeper history. While Pākehā savants such as R. C. Barstow and Charles E. Nelson capriciously summoned a Māori presence in the ancient Holy Land, the missionary translations of the scriptures opened Egyptian, Hebrew, Babylonian and other ancient histories to Māori attention and famously led to identification with the persecuted Jews. Secular history was also avidly consumed, as when Wiremu Tāmihana had William Robertson's _History of America_ (1777) read to him, leading to the mystifying label of 'Ingiki' (or 'Iniki') that was assumed by King Tāwhiao in the mid-1860s. Tāmihana had been 'struck with the functions and power of the Incas, and designed to make the head of the Maori people, like the Incas of Peru, the chief priest, and to have himself a sacred character'. This explained the otherwise mysterious wording of the seal that proclaimed him 'Iniki Tawhiao o Kenana' – Inca Tāwhiao of Canaan – a syncretic title blending American and Middle Eastern sources.

Māori awareness of ethnic diversity was further heightened by international travel. The New Zealand institution of the OE ('overseas experience') was arguably as important for Māori as it was for Pākehā; indeed, Lord Macaulay's celebrated figure of the New Zealander, which he coined in 1840, was originally intended as a _Māori_ tourist surveying the ruins of London. We begin by exploring Macaulay's futuristic figure of speech, with its implications of cultural transmission, in relation to the constant if ever-changing cast of expatriates who comprised metropolitan New Zealanders at the turn of the twentieth century. While its original context evokes imperial disquiet, Macaulay's figure of the New Zealander is eloquent also of colonial anxieties, especially in relation to a quest for belonging that could be fulfilled in neither the colony nor the metropolis.

This leads into a discussion of Māori cosmopolitanism, by which I mean not simply knowledge of the world at large, but the savoir faire that was a consequence of experience in that wider world. The frenzy of journalistic coverage surrounding King Tāwhiao's trip to England in 1884 offers unprecedented insights into the experience of the king and his chiefs as they braved the challenges of being tourists in the metropolis. Recent scholarship on travel narratives published in Māori-language newspapers has facilitated recovery of the identity of other Māori cosmopolitans. As will become clear, expertise in the European sphere did not necessarily equate with abandonment of the Māori world; in fact, just as Pākehā identity was consolidated by metropolitan experience, Māori seem also to have gained a deeper sense of their Māori identity by travelling beyond these shores.

### **_THE NEW ZEALANDER_**

Gustave Doré's _The New Zealander_ is the final image in _London: A Pilgrimage_ (1872), a profusely illustrated collaboration in social journalism by the celebrated French artist and English author Blanchard Jerrold. _The New Zealander_ was the work of Stéphane Pannemaker, a talented wood engraver who executed several of Doré's moodier scenes of the Victorian capital, including the widely reproduced _Over London_ – _By Rail_ , with its voyeuristic glimpse of the inner city's slum tenements. The eponymous protagonist of _The New Zealander_ occupies a similarly privileged vantage point, though here the figure is surveying a city in ruins. But who exactly is represented? And how many New Zealanders would recognise, let alone relate to, the exotically attired creature depicted in Doré's ambiguous image? Rather than a personage, the mysterious figure is a notorious figure of speech – an imaginary antipodean researcher of the future who was memorably summoned by the historian Thomas Babington Macaulay in a discussion of the longevity of the Roman Catholic church:

And she [the church] may still exist in undiminished vigour when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St Paul's.

By presenting Victorian London as an uninhabited ruin, Doré's image updates an older European tradition of the societal _memento mori_ – the folding of picturesque ruin and sublime thrill into an irresistible combination.

Invoked in 1840 – the year of the Treaty of Waitangi and British colonial annexation – Macaulay's New Zealander leapt to prominence in British literary and political discourse. It became a kind of scarecrow wheeled out so often that it joined a roll call of clichés that, in the view of _Punch_ , deserved to be outlawed from parliamentary discourse. Macaulay's New Zealander enjoyed a less active career in New Zealand, in part because the figure's primary rhetorical relevance was to the Old World. An important exception is the erudite William Colenso's 'A Few Remarks on the Hackneyed Quotation of "Macaulay's New Zealander"', an 1882 address to the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, which strongly contested Macaulay's proprietary rights to the figure of speech. Colenso's roll call of citations gave pride of place to J. J. de Labillardière, the naturalist on board d'Entrecasteaux's late-eighteenth-century voyage in search of the vanished explorer La Pérouse. Labillardière wondered whether the advantages of civilisation might not be in the process of transference, from the Europeans to the remote countries they were exploring. The English translation of the work appeared in 1800, and the crucial passage reads:

If so, the period may arrive, when New Zealand may produce her Lockes, her Newtons, and her Montesquieus; and when great nations in the immediate region of New Holland, may send their navigators, philosophers, and antiquaries, to contemplate the ruins of _ancient_ London and Paris, and to trace the languid remains of the arts and sciences in this quarter of the globe. Who can tell whether the rudiments of some great future empire may not already exist at Botany Bay?

At the core of this figure of speech is the notion of imperial translation – the relocation of European culture.

What then of the ethnic identity of Macaulay's New Zealander? Words and their meanings change over time, and 'New Zealander' is an important case in point. When Macaulay penned the review in October 1840, his imaginary future visitor was intended as an indigenous New Zealander. Macaulay was thereby summoning extreme distance – cultural as much as geographical – and the original text therefore contributes to a genealogy of Māori futures imagined by European writers. William Colenso's first intervention on the topic was published in March 1864 in the Auckland paper _The New Zealander_ , in response to 'A Drop of Comfort', a text from _Punch_ which had been quoted by a previous contributor. While satirical, the passage from _Punch_ is nevertheless an enunciation of the desirability of Māori extinction:

There is just one consolation arising out of this now old New Zealand war. If we abolish the New Zealanders, we shall abolish that eternal fellow of Lord Macaulay's creation, who, on the average, finishes three hundred and sixty-five leading articles every year. If there _is_ no New Zealander, he can't well come and sit on the broken arch of London Bridge, and sketch the ruined Cathedral.

The reference clearly depends on the figure's status as a _Māori_ traveller. The point made by Colenso is that the figure possessed a prehistory that Macaulay – as 'a very extensive reader [who] possessed a very retentive memory' – had unconsciously plagiarised. William Taylor Masefield later provided a fresh twist by evoking the spectre of the future Polynesian traveller in a discussion of _Pākehā_ degeneration. Masefield's proposed 'remedy' was a eugenic programme to prevent the 'unhealthy and weakly' from propagating the species and thereby ensuring the decline and eclipse of European civilisation in New Zealand.

More recently, the 'New Zealander's' Māori identity has tended to slip from scholarly consciousness. Readers of Robert Dingley's essay from 2000, 'The Ruins of the Future: Macaulay's New Zealander and the Spirit of the Age', would remain unaware that the New Zealander had ever _not_ been a Pākehā. Dingley – an Australian scholar – has undertaken an intensive investigation of the New Zealander's appearances in Victorian literature, revealing a long-standing programme of appropriation. In an 1878 pamphlet, _The NewZealander on London Bridge; or Moral Ruins of the Modern Babylon_ , the anonymous author claims not only to foresee the New Zealander but actually to _be_ him. 'M.L.C.' is an Englishman returning to the mother country after 12 years in 'what has been rather ambitiously designated . . . "the Britain of the South"', and, as Dingley explains, it is precisely this experience that now qualifies him to take up the role of Jeremiah on London Bridge. An attitude towards contemporary New Zealanders, a group to which M.L.C. somewhat awkwardly belongs, is necessarily wrapped up in his impersonation of the nemesis. The English literary tourist J. A. Froude, having visited the Hot Lakes in 1885, imagined Rotorua's future as 'an enormous cockney watering-place' and foresaw the New Zealander's triumphant return:

here it will be that in some sanatarian _salon_ Macaulay's New Zealander, returning from his travels, will exhibit his sketch of the ruins of St Paul's to groups of admiring young ladies. I have come to believe in that New Zealander since I have seen the country.

From its context in _Oceana_ , which dismisses Māori culture as decadent, Froude clearly intends a Pākehā traveller.

This slippage, from the New Zealander as Māori into a new image of the European New Zealander, reflects the instability of colonialism and its questions around who belongs, and where they can belong. 'New Zealander', as a term referring to European settlers and their descendants, has many synonyms in this period. From a metropolitan perspective, they formed a subset of a wider category of 'Anglo-colonials', within which Pākehā were qualified as 'Anglo-New Zealanders'. Other late-nineteenth-century descriptors were 'antipodeans', 'Australasians' or, more commonly, 'colonials'. The new image of a colonial traveller, updating the esoteric figure of Macaulay's New Zealander, is a turn-of-the-century woman tourist as imaged in a pseudo-ethnographic series of touristic postcards titled _Types of Australasiennes_. Neither her gender nor ethnicity is in question, for her status as a colonial is signalled by the casual appropriation of the kiwi-feather cloak, huia feather, heitiki and mere – exactly as if she were attending a fancy-dress occasion in the metropolis. Lurking behind her is a Pākehā waka – the steamship that bridged the gulf, at least for those who could afford it, between _here_ and _there_.

The history of the New Zealander's OE, or overseas experience, centred on London, stretches back into the nineteenth century. Among the constant elements of this experience – then as now – was the society of diasporic Pākehā encountered by expatriates in the metropolis. According to a journalist in 1898:

Harding and Billings, _Types of Australasiennes_ , photolithograph, 137 × 88 mm, and the extraordinary message inscribed on the reverse. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Few people realise how strong a little colony there is of New Zealanders in London, a colony ever changing, no doubt, as to its membership, but at the same time permanent in itself as a whole. But if we count only those who have been born in New Zealand and remain strictly New Zealanders – sooner or later returning home – the average number of such in London must be at least a hundred or more, exclusive of mere passing visitors.

The writer makes an important distinction between these 'strict' or native New Zealanders and those who, by dint of spending a portion of their lives in the colony, had become part of this society – a wider group that would number in the hundreds. The writer of the 'Anglo-Colonial Notes', quoted above, described a recent Wednesday-evening 'eighteen-penny banquet' at the Café Roche on Old Compton Street in Soho which had gathered a group of 20, only six of whom did not intend returning to the colony. Participants on this occasion included the New Zealand-born Agent-General William Pember Reeves, four of Reeves' staff, two doctors, three medical students, two musicians, two lawyers, a journalist, an architect, a graphic artist, a produce inspector, a riding master and the retired British army officer Major-General Horatio Gordon Robley. The 'Australasienne' could have been the female musician, journalist, or graphic artist who were present that evening.

Samuel Begg, _The New Zealand Banquet at the Holborn Restaurant: Maori Warriors Performing the 'Haka' War-dance_ , photolithograph, 280 × 400 mm, _Illustrated London News_ , 7 July 1897, p. 74. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MICHAEL GRAHAM-STEWART

To mark arrivals, departures and special occasions, the New Zealanders threw more spectacular parties. A year earlier, at the time that New Zealand premier Richard John Seddon attended Queen Victoria's 1897 Diamond Jubilee and the associated Imperial Conference in London, Pember Reeves and other distinguished members of the community turned out in force for an evening banquet attended by 300 guests at the Holborn Restaurant. While key participants hailed from New Zealand, including a group of Māori troopers who were escorting Seddon at the jubilee, the majority were Londoners connected with New Zealand trade. The picturesque menu offered such dishes as 'Côtolette de mouton Nouvelle Zélande à la Mackenzie' (honouring Thomas Mackenzie, one of the organisers of the party), 'Agneau Canterbury à la sauce menthe', 'Dindons à l'Anthropophage', and 'Canards sauvages à la Maori'. The journalist wondered if the Māori guests had understood the meaning of 'l'Anthropophage', and whether they might not have considered it a rather left-handed compliment, as a reflection on the cannibalistic propensities of their ancestors.

The speeches followed – _three_ entire hours of speeches. The worst offender in the post-prandial orgy of oratory was Seddon, who reputedly spoke for a solid hour. Relishing his time under the metropolitan spotlight, Seddon discoursed on the ties of kinship, on the intense British loyalty of the colonies, the debts incurred from the Māori war, the dairy industry, mining, and so forth – his eloquence apparently insulating him from audible manifestations of impatience. The evening concluded with a rousing haka performed by the Māori contingent, exciting 'immense surprise, amounting to absolute amazement, on the part of the London spectators' – a moment that was memorialised in the _Illustrated London News_. Those who grew tired of the proceedings could slip into a room adjacent to the dining hall to inspect an array of edible produce from New Zealand, as well as another exhibit of a decidedly less appetising character:

[T]hree preserved and beautifully tattooed human heads, of which General Robley was the exhibitor. The gallant General was in his element explaining to all and sundry the special peculiarities and merits of each of these marvellous heads.

Robley's status as a New Zealander was an unusual one. Despite having spent only two years in the country as an imperial soldier, between 1864 and 1866, in later life Robley strongly identified with New Zealand and New Zealand interests. The author of _Moko; or Maori Tattoo_ (1896), the first comprehensive account of the topic, and himself an avid collector of preserved Māori heads, Robley supported his collecting activities by selling drawings of his own that purported to come from the 1860s, and by trading in Māori artefacts. As with the case of Trevor Lloyd, the authenticity of these offerings was at times dubious.

As London's resident expert on Māori tattooing, Robley himself dressed up and occasionally assisted Pākehā to transform themselves into Māori for the purposes of fancy dress. Frivolous cross-cultural transvestism is now considered culturally problematic; then it was a mark of pride for a colonial to pose as an indigenous New Zealander, and the writer Katherine Mansfield famously appeared at parties wearing Māori accoutrements. In late 1903, Hilda Hitchings of Napier transformed herself into a 'Maori princess' for a fancy-dress ball at Covent Garden:

Unidentified photographer, _Horatio Gordon Robley Dressed as a Maori Chief_ , 1866, albumen photograph, 90 × 55 mm. Dr T. M. HOCKEN PAPERS, HOCKEN COLLECTIONS, UARE TAOKA O HĀKENA, UNIVERSITY OF OTAGO, MS-0488/001

With the aid of one of the leading London experts in fancy dress preparation, Miss Hitchings 'got herself up' with a degree of realism that had not previously been seen even at those famous balls. The complexion and tattooing of a Maori chieftainess were imitated to perfection, and Miss Hitchings carried her faithfulness of representation to the extent of having her feet bared and appropriately stained, while when moving about she exactly imitated the walk of the Maori women, and when not walking or dancing she squatted on the floor with her short pipe in her mouth in precise waihine [sic] style. Many of those present fully believed her to be a genuine Maori princess. Wherever she went she was attended by crowds of admiring, or at any [rate] curious, spectators, and when she first squatted on the floor she was surrounded by some hundreds of spectators. As she advanced to receive her prize her progress was accompanied by hearty cheers and cries of 'Bravo, New Zealand!' Altogether her experience seems to have been an exceptional one.

As every New Zealander knew, however, the notion that a high-born Māori visitor would ever be seen dressed in such a way was a serious fallacy.

The following spring saw the visit to London of a genuine Māori aristocrat, Mrs G. P. Donnelly, alias Princess Airini Karauria, who was holidaying with her Pākehā husband and their daughter, Maud. Airini was the daughter of Ngāti Kahungunu chief Karauria Pupu, who was killed in 1868 while fighting against Te Kooti on the British side, and she inherited a vast Hawke's Bay estate on which she and her family lived in lavish style. Following their presentation at court in June 1904, Airini and her husband were honoured with a special invitation to visit the Prince and Princess of Wales at Marlborough House, to renew the acquaintance made at the Māori welcome to the royal couple at Rotorua in 1901 when she was one of the leading rangatira who received a medal. The photograph produced by the Lafayette Studio to commemorate the occasion reveals Airini's choice of distinctive black mourning attire – the absolute antithesis of the prescribed white costume – completed by an ancestral heitiki prominently suspended around her neck. In an essay on Māori perspectives around wearing the colour black, Chanel Clarke relays an amusing story of Airini's difficulty in donning the elaborate costume, after she 'put on condition' – her farming husband's words – between the initial fitting and the event.

Airini and George Donnelly's fortunes were tied to the development of refrigerated meat shipping, the single most important factor in the economic prosperity enjoyed by New Zealand at the turn of the twentieth century. It was the London meat trade that feasted Seddon at the time of the jubilee, just as it funded aspects of New Zealand's self-representation at the metropolitan exhibitions explored by Felicity Barnes in _New Zealand's London_ (2012). Metropolitan society was a complex, stratified affair and colonials could be as snobbish as their hosts, who in turn were confused as to how colonials fitted into the elaborate British class system. Sir Walter Buller, whose later years unfolded in comfortable retirement 'at Home', largely spurned the society of fellow colonials in the interests of reinventing himself as a British gentleman.

Lafayette Studio, _Airini Donnelly in London_ , 1904, gelatin silver photograph, 175 × 111 mm. COLLECTION OF PHILLIP O'SHEA, WELLINGTON; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON

Inevitably, experience of 'Home' was inflected by race. Colonials were superficially indistinguishable from the citizens of the motherland – which is precisely why Katherine Mansfield wore her bone heitiki, just as travelling New Zealanders today sport carved taonga of bone and greenstone. Indigenous citizens of the Empire, especially those with heavily carved faces, instead suffered what might be called 'orientalisation' – even in the great Babylon that was London. But, interestingly, metropolitan racism could differ significantly from the colonial variant. In 1884, when farewelling the journalist who had been their virtually constant companion in London, Pātara Te Tuhi – who usually sweetened his critiques of colonialism with a gentle humour – made a valedictory speech in which he starkly emphasised the difference between the treatment that was routinely accorded to Māori in the colony, and their reception in the metropolis: 'In New Zealand the Europeans looked down on the Maoris, ill-treated them whenever they dare, and swore at them in the street. In London they had met thousands of people, and never received anything but kindness at their hands.' While this was not strictly correct – since threatening mobs had on occasion impeded their shopping expeditions – Pātara was ingratiating himself with his hosts while scoring a political point at the expense of the Pākehā in attendance. Whatever spin is put on it, the Māori experience of London was inevitably different from that of Pākehā visitors.

### **KĀINGA TO METROPOLIS AND BACK: MĀORI COSMOPOLITANISM**

Māori cosmopolitanism was usually measured by the degree to which individuals could command status or expertise in the Pākehā world – in other words, the extent to which they engaged a bicultural lifestyle and identity. In 1883 a New Zealand journalist unfavourably compared the 'rag-tag' entourage of King Tāwhiao with the splendour of the court overseen by the recently crowned Hawaiian monarch King Kalākaua:

King Tawhiao wears a battered bell-topper, and lives in a village of whares. King Kalakaua, on the other hand, dresses in purple and fine linen, has his parliament, his standing army, his chancellors and chamberlains, reigns with acceptance over black and white, and 'looks every inch a king.' What has wrought the difference? Is it colonization?

The official overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy would come a decade later, when United States sugar interests dethroned Kalākaua's younger sister, Queen Lili'uokalani. Tāwhiao may have lacked the sartorial panache of his Hawaiian counterparts, but he shared in receiving the superficial flattery that was directed by Europeans towards 'dusky potentates' who sought equivalent status to European aristocracy. When Tāwhiao visited Auckland in early 1882 – his first visit since the outbreak of the disastrous war almost two decades earlier – he was hosted in the first instance by the tangata whenua. Ngāti Whātua experienced no contradiction in proposing, firstly, 'God Save King Tawhiao!', followed by 'God Save the Queen'. As a sarcastic observer noted:

The Maoris paid divine honours to Tawhiao, but they only took their cue from the pakeha sychophants [sic] and snobs and snobbesses [sic] who buzzed and fluttered about the dusky potentate. Tawhiao has been the lion of the hour, and has been trotted about, fêted, petted, and flattered, just as the people of England flattered Kossuth, Garibaldi, the Sultan, and the Shah of Persia. Tawhiao was our New Zealand 'Shah,' and we made the most of him while the farce lasted.

Ngāti Whātua's welcome was based on historical kinship ties, while the effusive Pākehā welcome to Tāwhiao was instead motivated by the financial benefits that would flow once the previously inaccessible Waikato lands were unlocked.

To impress on them the triumphs of Pākehā civilisation, Tāwhiao and his retinue of 50 chiefs – representing Waikato, Ngāti Maniapoto and Ngāti Hikairo – were exposed to the marvels of Auckland. The Auckland Museum provoked intense interest, especially the alluringly white limbs of the plaster casts of Greco-Roman statuary:

Patara te Tuhi is evidently not a patron of fine art, as he remarked that the pakehas were the most hypocritical people under the sun; they were always turning up their eyes in holy horror at the scanty clothing of the Maoris, yet in their museum he could see nothing but nude figures.

According to F. E. Maning, a malicious observer of the occasion, Tāwhiao horrified the civic leaders by brazenly groping the _Venus de' Medici_. Daniel Maclise's large painting, _The Spirit of Justice_ (1850) – a composition for a fresco in the British Houses of Parliament – was explained to the visitors. 'Some of the chiefs archly remarked that they could see that the scales of Justice were evenly balanced in the picture, but in real life the pakeha always managed to kick the beam in his own favour.' The day included an astonishingly full programme: visits to Bartlett's photography studio, to Garlick and Cranwell's furniture manufactory, to the biscuit production line at Bycroft's flour mill, and to Wiseman's saddlery, where Tāwhiao and the chiefs experimented with cutting strips of leather and Tāwhiao and Wahanui each received gifts of a silver-mounted jockey's whip. After dinner came a visit to the German warship _Habicht_ , then lying in the harbour, where they enjoyed the gun manoeuvres. Tāwhiao was thrilled to fire a blank cartridge from one of the giant Krupp guns before retiring to the captain's cabin for German champagne.

There were minor mishaps and cultural clashes – as when a hostess touched Pāora Tūhaere's head – but the visit was pronounced a success. A collectible, 'full-page cartoon' of Tāwhiao graced the _Observer_ – hyperbolically touted by William Blomfield as 'the first full-length portrait of the Maori King ever issued by any newspaper in the world' – and illustrated vignettes of the Ngāti Whātua settlement and the associated civic entertainments later appeared in the London _Graphic_ , one of which showed Māori women smoking after dinner with the Pākehā men. An editorial in the _New Zealand Herald_ argued for 'honesty' in dealing with Tāwhiao, reminding its readers that the lavish civic welcome grew out of European desire for progress. Most significantly, it noted that both railway and telegraph lines were now poised to enter the previously forbidden King Country, where hitherto the land had been lying 'useless':

Joseph Nash, _The Maori Difficulty in New Zealand – Visit of King Tawhiao and his Followers to Auckland_ , wood engraving, 402 × 297 mm, _Graphic_ , 29 July 1882, p. 116. COLLECTION OF CHRISTCHURCH ART GALLERY TE PUNA O WAIWHETŪ, PURCHASED 2010

It matters not for the purposes of the State who owns the King country, if it be but put to profitable use, availed of for the purposes of civilisation, and as a means of communication between one part of the colony and another.

Now that the opening of the King Country was a certainty, Tāwhiao and his tribesmen needed to be shown respect. As the editorial expressed it: 'Surrounded by the bewilderments of a civilisation to which he is a stranger, the Maori King has shown a dignity and reserve which entitle him to the respect of all those with whom he has come in contact.' Regardless of the warmth of Auckland's welcome, however, this was the very point at which Tāwhiao and his advisors began planning a visit to the colonists' mother country. There they would place their land grievances before Queen Victoria, the monarch whose name was invoked in the opening sentence of the dishonoured Treaty of Waitangi.

King Tāwhiao's 1884 expedition belongs to a complex history of international travel by adventurous Māori, as well as to a wider history of 'native' princes and monarchs visiting the imperial metropolis. For Tāwhiao and his chiefs, there was a distinct ethnographic focus to their research trip – an attempt to understand the world in order better to grasp the place of Māori. In 1884, immediately prior to their departure, the chiefs visited the Japanese corvette _Tsukuba_. Again, the armaments proved of considerable interest and, invited into the captain's cabin, the group enjoyed cigars but on this occasion no wine – '[o]ut of regard for Tawhiao's temperance principles'. Captain Ariji told Tāwhiao that he would inform his emperor of the king's visit, and added 'that he believed the Japanese and Maoris to be one race'. He also remarked on a similarity between the two languages – a similarity affirmed by the Māori visitors. The diplomatic encounter was cemented by an exchange of gifts:

The captain then presented the King with a handsome suit of Japanese armour, richly embroidered with gold. The King appeared greatly delighted with the present, and in return gave the captain a kaitaka mat, a whalebone weapon called a hoeroa, and a kawerapa, a sort of knapsack formerly used by the Maoris when engaged in war.

Later, in a farewell speech at Government House, Tāwhiao made reference to his visit to the German man-of-war two years previously, adding: 'I have also seen those strange people, the Japanese. I shall also see many strange people and many strange countries. I shall feast my eyes on those people and places, and judge for myself.' Pātara meanwhile requested that the Governor supply a map to help them to understand the journey they were undertaking to what the journalists insisted on calling 'Home'.

King Tāwhiao's 1884 trip to London is usually framed as a failure. Queen Victoria was apparently advised not to receive him and the other chiefs, since colonial rule was now in the hands of the colonial government. This snub, so keenly felt, has significantly inflected subsequent histories of the undertaking by Tāwhiao and his companions, Pātara Te Tuhi, Wiremu Te Wheoro, Tōpia Peehi Tūroa, Hōri Rōpiha and the 'half-caste interpreter' George Skidmore. The 1880s was the heyday of the 'new' journalism, which relied heavily on interviews quoted verbatim. The intrusive scrutiny and published misrepresentations proved tormenting, with Tāwhiao likening journalists to fleas and dictating a protest letter concerning his treatment by the _Pall Mall Gazette_. Generally speaking, the metropolitan press exhibited a narcissistic obsession with what one journalist called 'the first impressions made by a visit to the seat of a great empire, on men of intelligence but still in a tribal state of development'. Far more engaging bulletins were dispatched by an embedded Australian journalist working on behalf of New Zealand's evening newspapers, which detail shopping trips and zoo visits by day and racy theatre outings and suppers by night. These reports were echoed _in extenso_ throughout the colonial press in tandem with juicy snippets from the metropolitan journals, informing readers of almost every word uttered and movement made by what was then the most famous New Zealander in London.

Despite Tāwhiao's frequent visits to photographic studios, as documented in Chapter Six, surviving photographs from this trip are relatively rare – with the notable exception of Josiah Martin's pirated versions of the Mayall portrait. The most alluring of the lost portraits is the large-scale oil portrait that was last seen at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition in 1886, where it was proclaimed 'a far finer one' than Buller's exhibited portrait of Tāwhiao. A reproduction of the portrait by H. C. Seppings Wright appeared in _Black & White_ in 1894, to mark the news of Tāwhiao's death. The journal noted that:

Tawhiao sits with an expression on his face which seems to suggest that a chair is not his idea of comfort. Doubtless he had rather be cross-legged on the floor; but Mr. Seppings Wright held such a position to be unregal, and prevailed upon the king to take a chair. The portrait speaks for itself and the artist tells us that no commission gave him more amusement or trouble in the execution, for Tawhiao proved a restless sitter and a severe critic. He was always good-tempered, however, and added his praises to those of more competent judges when his portrait was completed.

The sitting for the portrait was described in intimate detail by a journalist from the London _Globe_ (and breathlessly repeated in the _New Zealand Herald_ ). Posing in Seppings Wright's opulent residence near Russell Square, the king was attired in 'all the trappings of state' – Māori regalia that had been presented _in absentia_ to Queen Victoria and borrowed by the apparently well-connected artist. He wore a feather cloak 'of brilliant hues', with other 'textiles' hung behind him. In his right hand, he held a greenstone mere, in his left 'a long, half-spear, half-paddle shaped wand of office' – a taiaha decorated with tufts of dog hair and brightly coloured feathers. The journalist related that 'it had previously been explained to him by some of his distinguished English friends that sitting for portraits is one of the distinctly defined duties of Royalty in Europe'. Nevertheless, it was a difficult assignment and, instead of sitting still, Tāwhiao would inspect how the work was proceeding, paying close attention to the sketched lines of his moko and offering suggestions to the artist.

_Tawhiao, the Late King of the Maoris, from the Painting by H. C. Seppings Wright_ , photolithograph, 270 × 170 mm, _Black & White_, 8 September 1894. ROBERT AND BARBARA STEWART LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES, CHRISTCHURCH ART GALLERY TE PUNA O WAIWHETŪ, PURCHASED 2017

There was a second sitting the following day, when Tāwhiao and his entourage enjoyed breakfast with the artist before they continued work on the portrait. The tedium of sitting was punctuated by excursions through Seppings Wright's apartment when, according to the _Globe_ 's condescending observer, 'an almost infantile pleasure was shown in feeling the texture of Parisian curtains and other mural decorations, and in carefully examining the surface of photographs, apparently with the object of discovering whether the apparent relief had any real existence'. After lunch, and further work on the portrait, Tāwhiao requested pencil and paper so he could demonstrate his own prowess as an artist:

The designs themselves appear, at first sight, to be architectural, and might, in their intricacy, be taken for the too florid ornamentation of columns in a debased classical style. But the King was able to explain that these designs were reproductions of tattooing art with which he is familiar. More than that; by means of signs and the aid of a lady's photograph which was lying on the table, he showed clearly that one of his designs was a _fac-simile_ of the decoration on the chin of his Royal spouse.

The article concludes: 'Our Royal visitor is now far away on his homeward voyage, but it is well that so interesting a record of his presence remains.'

With Tāwhiao safely off the scene, Queen Victoria could resume her customary reception of foreign dignitaries. The _Penny Illustrated Paper_ recorded that at Osborne House – on the very day that Tāwhiao and Te Tuhi were on the ship waving farewell to their hosts – Her Majesty received Lige Mercha, the Ambassador of King John of Abyssinia, 'and the two dusky Envoys accompanying him'. The envoys presented King John's gifts to the Queen, the most spectacular of which was a young elephant. Just such a diplomatic encounter had been the major hope of Tāwhiao and his chiefs when, having arrived at Windsor Castle equipped with the cloaks and weapons that Seppings Wright would borrow back for the portrait sitting, they encountered the inexplicable absence of the Queen.

On occasion, other New Zealanders in London found it useful to present themselves as Māori 'royals'. Commenting in 1904 on Airini Donnelly's forthcoming holiday, the _Observer_ noted that she 'has been declared to be the first Maori woman of high rank to visit England'. The writer, almost certainly the newspaper's proprietor, William Blomfield, asked: 'But what about the "Princess te Rangi Pai," now figuring so prominently on the British concert platforms?' The eldest daughter of Colonel Porter, and known in everyday life as Fanny Rose Howie, Princess Te Rangi Pai made her British debut as a concert contralto in 1901. With the arrival of an authentic blue blood such as Airini, however, Mrs Howie's status as a 'princess' would be in danger of eclipse.

Charles F. Goldie, _Kai Paipa_ , 1901, oil on canvas, 390 × 482 mm. RUSSELL-COTES ART GALLERY AND MUSEUM, BOURNEMOUTH

Blomfield then drew attention to the fascinating life story of another woman of his acquaintance – 'a chieftainess by marriage' – who had spent considerable time 'at Home':

When Sir George Martin was Chief Justice of New Zealand, and residing in Auckland, his wife took under her patronage a young Maori girl, practically adopted her, and ultimately took her away to the Old Country. The little girl was given the best education that money could buy. When she returned to the colony she was able to speak two or three languages, and to display all the accomplishments of the daintily brought-up young woman of her day.

On her return to New Zealand, the young woman known to Lady Martin as 'Kathy' married Nikorima Poutōtara, a leading chief of Ngāti Maru, and lived for a time at Parawai, near Thames. Her contemporary fame, Blomfield related, was based on the superb contralto voice she exhibited at charity concerts, accompanying herself on the piano and invariably drawing vociferous demands for encores. Gradually, however, '[s]he appeared less and less in European society, and finally withdrew from it altogether, abandoned the tasteful and fashionable modes of dress that had been her wont, adopting the billycock hat and bright-coloured blouse and skirt so dear to her dusky sisters'. Mrs Nikorima's linguistic and musical accomplishments were the legacy of an elite education in England, yet 'she abandoned them all for the primitive ways of the kainga'.

These tantalising paragraphs concern the enigmatic Katerina Nikorima (née Te Karari), whose 'withdrawal' from civilisation was far less complete than Blomfield allowed. For a start, she often resided not in a kāinga, or village, but in the city of Auckland, where she became friendly with Charles F. Goldie, to whom she may have been introduced by Pātara Te Tuhi. She was the unidentified model for _Kai Paipa_ , a 1901 painting described by a critic in the _Herald_ as 'the portrait of a well-known native woman in Auckland, smoking'. Held in the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery and Museum in Bournemouth, England, _Kai Paipa_ combines painterly panache with acute physiognomic realism. The identity of the 'well-known native woman' is confirmed by comparison of the earlier work with _Nikorima and Nicotina_ , a painting of 1910. Nine years older, Katerina Nikorima is still enjoying her pipe and may even be wearing the identical satin scarf with gold highlights that is seen in the earlier portrait, along with a silk headscarf and green pleated blouse. In yet another painting, _Fire and Smoke_ (1908), she is draped in a tartan blanket. Release from the constraints of European fashion and decorum was a pleasure of the Māori world, where women were free to smoke pipes and to wear comfortably loose clothing. If Goldie 'dressed' models such as Pātara Te Tuhi in traditional cloaks that were maintained as studio props, what about the articles of velvet, silk and satin worn by the older female models? Could it be Goldie who supplied the distinctive scarf that appears in two of Nikorima's depictions, nine years apart, as well as the equally distinctive blanket that appears on many individuals, both male and female? Is there some extent to which these garments represent the models' actual clothing, or was Goldie simply staging stereotypical _tableaux_ of the picturesque attire sported by Māori women?

Charles F. Goldie, _Nikorima and Nicotina_ , 1910, oil on canvas, 610 × 510 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF GOW LANGSFORD GALLERY

The feminist writer Edith Searle Grossmann was fascinated by the colourful dress sense displayed by her female Māori contemporaries. Profiling 'The Aucklanders' for a Dunedin newspaper, Grossmann wrote of 'the women with velveteen blouses of scarlet and crimson and green, but shabby black skirts', adding that '[p]articoloured shawls are much affected, and skirts are generally of an impartial width all round'. Grossmann made her observations in the vicinity of Albert Park, not far from Goldie's Shortland Street studio, and it is tempting to imagine that she had observed his models, Īna Te Papatahi and Hārata Rēwiri Tarapata, who were then living at Waipapa, the native hostelry near the base of Constitution Hill. Goldie's studio contained the piano on which Alfred Hill claimed that he first tapped out his best-selling song 'Waiata Poi', and it is easy to envisage Katerina Nikorima entertaining the artist and his friends from her corpus of European songs in several languages. But what were the motives that led Katerina and other Māori to involve themselves with Goldie's project? Was it simply part of earning a living in the new capitalist economy, a commercial exchange akin to the fees that she was accruing in this period as an interpreter for the Native Land Court? Or did her European education mean that – like her fellow cosmopolitan, Pātara Te Tuhi – she grasped the implications of participating in the European portrait tradition, perhaps even understanding that it offered a means of addressing posterity, of achieving a degree of immortality? To support the latter reading, there is the documented visit paid by Katerina Nikorima to the Lindauer Art Gallery on 3 September 1901, at the time when she was posing for _Kai Paipa_. She recorded her name in the visitors' book, identified several of the portrait subjects whom she had known personally, and wrote, 'ka korero mai ki au i whea ahau' – 'they said to me, where have I been?'

Charles F. Goldie, _Fire and Smoke_ , 1908, oil on canvas, 610 × 510 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF JOHN MCIVER

Blomfield took the opportunity to generalise over what he termed 'the innate weakness of the Maori for the ways of his ancestors':

Time after time have young Maori men, educated in the secondary schools of the colony, drifted back to the life of lazy comfort of their fathers' homes. Probably no person of her race has ever drunk more deeply of the sweets of European society and European civilisation than Mrs Nikorima, and yet she abandoned them all for the primitive ways of the kainga. Today, she is occasionally to be seen about the streets of Auckland, but is entirely inconspicuous, and no one unacquainted with her history would suspect that she is a person of much greater culture than the average European with whom she rubs shoulders.

The expression of surprise that, having tasted the fruits of civilisation, Māori chose to 'revert to the blanket' is a characteristically Eurocentric judgement. Interestingly, turn-of-the-century census returns showed that, of the increasing 'half-caste' population, a consistently higher proportion was recorded as 'Living as Members of Maori Tribes' rather than 'Living as and among Europeans'.

Helen Hogan dedicated a doctoral thesis and subsequent publications to the translation and annotation of texts contributed by intrepid Māori travellers – texts that are revealing in terms of generational change. Rāpata Wahawaha, Āpirana Ngata's celebrated uncle, travelled to Sydney and Melbourne in 1878 as a last-minute addition to the otherwise Pākehā entourage of Sir Donald McLean and published two letters about his experiences in a government-sponsored Maori-language newspaper, _Te Waka Maori o Niu Tireni_. Confronted by the Greco-Roman casts in the Museum of Victoria, Wahawaha anticipates Pātara Te Tuhi's wry response before the equivalent casts in the Auckland Museum:

The Governor and I went to the State Concert Hall and to a building for displaying works of art. In the latter building there were strange beings housed there, statues. Oh dear, oh dear, you Pākehā! What peculiar people the Pākehā are! If just a button falls off your shirt, they become upset and say 'Oh look, the button of your shirt has come off. A Pākehā lady might see your neck!'

And yet, on the other hand, they happily create _naked_ people in stone, and display them to anyone who goes there. Who can understand these practices?

Hogan notes that the letters of Wahawaha, then in his mid-fifties, 'read like the words of an old man'. She diagnoses war-weariness and disillusion, but also suggests that Wahawaha's monolingualism may have been the most significant alienating factor. Of the Governor's dinner, for example, he wrote that 'the Pākehā kept up a conversation; my Māori ears heard, but could not understand any of it'.

Confident bilingualism is clearly demonstrated in the wide-eyed record of a trip to London made by 23-year-old Ngāti Porou soldier Hēnare M. Kōhere, one of a 32-strong escort of Māori soldiers sent to accompany Premier Seddon at the June 1902 Coronation of Edward VII. Kōhere's letters appeared in _Te Pipiwharauroa_ , the Māori-language newspaper edited by his older brother, Rēweti Kōhere, and are studded with ethnographic detail. He remarks on Fijians (spotted in Sydney, en route to the South African War), and on Kaffirs, Basotho, Zulus and Indians seen in Durban. He compares the 'animal' state of the indigenous people in South Africa with Māori life back home: 'some were going about with no clothes on at all, and their living conditions were altogether bad compared to ours'. In London, Seddon ensured that the Māori soldiers were billeted with the white soldiers: 'So, the Māori people are the only [darker-skinned] ones to be assembled alongside the Pākehā.' Reporting kind treatment by the British, Kōhere pointedly noted that 'the Pākehā from here do not afford the same hospitality for the [white] New Zealand soldiers'.

Following the coronation and a formal reception held for all colonial soldiers at Buckingham Palace, the New Zealanders and Australians were invited to Windsor Castle. A lavish feast with intoxicating drinks was laid on ahead of a tour of the castle. There the Māori visitors were spellbound by the display of antique weapons in the Round Tower, but disturbed by the behaviour they witnessed on the part of the drink-addled Pākehā soldiers. Though reprimanded by the guards, the latter insisted on 'trying out' the king's throne: 'And we Māori went and sat there – it felt really good!' It was within St George's Chapel that things really went awry:

That was where one of our Pākehā men behaved very badly; he vomited and the vomit went all over the place, for right inside him beer and champagne fought over which was to have ascendancy.

On another occasion, during a jaunt to Scotland when the various colonials were asked to perform entertainments, Pākehā soldiers joined in the Māori haka. 'Most of them had never before done a haka, but because they knew it was part of the heritage they got going and practised it.' Kōhere lingers over details of the glittering receptions to which they were invited, relating that for aristocratic gatherings they executed their haka complete with costumes and weapons, precisely in order to emphasise the special status accorded to Māori.

Completing this line-up of Māori cosmopolitans is a pair of travellers to whom Hogan has dedicated a book. Wiremu Toetoe Tumohe and Hēmara Rerehau Te Whanonga, of Ngāti Apakura, travelled to Austria in 1859 on the frigate _Novara_ 'in fulfilment of a long-cherished desire to see other countries and people'. They spent nine months based at the imperial printing works in Vienna, after which they were escorted by Ferdinand von Hochstetter through Germany and France to England, where they were presented to Queen Victoria. In mid-1860, attired in elegant suits, the young rangatira posed in Antoine Claudet's 'Temple to Photography' on London's Regent Street. Toetoe, the elder of the pair, was around 32 years old and sported a full-face moko; his companion Rerehau, the son of a wealthy friend of Toetoe's, was around twenty. They returned with an extraordinary gift from Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of Austria – the printing press that was used by Pātara Te Tuhi and Hōnana Maioha to produce _Te Hokioi_ , the anti-colonial newspaper of the Kīngitanga. Before his trip, Toetoe had worked as a postal agent and was a strong advocate of road building. Afterwards, however, his exposure to the various realms and their leaders had decided his allegiance to the Kīngitanga. As war drew closer, and meetings were held to discuss the ominous incursion of the Great South Road into Waikato territory, Toetoe spoke of his overseas experience:

Antoine Claudet, _Wiremu Toetoe Tumohe_ and _Hemara Rerehau Te Whanonga_ , 19 June 1860, albumen photographs, 189 × 140 mm. BRITISH MUSEUM, OC,B9.3 AND OC,B9.2, © THE TRUSTEES OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM

I have been to the countries of Europe, and I have seen the kings, each one who is sitting (or ruling) in that great country of Europe. The power or jurisdiction of one king does not overlap the power or jurisdiction of another king. From having seen these things, I first became aware that the idea of the natives in setting up a king for themselves was correct. Therefore, I say, stop the road.

During Tāwhiao's state visit to Auckland in 1882, a keen-eyed journalist noted the presence of Hēmara Rerehau in the king's entourage and recalled the dandified behaviour he had displayed two decades earlier:

After his return from Europe, Hemara Rerehau was a Maori Beau Brummel of the first water, and might have been seen doing the Queen-street pavement in a faultless suit of broad-cloth, with scented cambric pocket-handkerchief and walking cane. The instincts of his race were too strong upon him, however, and notwithstanding all he had seen in Austria, Germany, France, and England to prove the irresistible power of the pakeha, he cast in his lot with his kingite countrymen in the vain attempt to stem the onward march of civilization. Squatted yesterday à la Maori, with a shawl thrown carelessly around his loins, few would have recognised in Hemara Rerehau the ex-dandy of the Novara epoch.

The presumption here is that, by siding with his people in the war of the 1860s, Rerehau had abdicated from the cosmopolitanism of which his dandyism was a sign. But appearances were deceptive, as from under his 'shawl' emerged a letter from Hochstetter, in which the great Austrian scientist enquired into the recent death of Wiremu Toetoe. 'Your Vienna friends send their greetings', Hochstetter wrote, enclosing a photographic portrait of himself and requesting photographs of Rerehau and Tāwhiao in return. The visit to Auckland, where his portrait was taken at Bartlett's studio, meant that Rerehau was ready to fulfil his Austrian friend's desire.

Augustus Hamilton, _Maori Art_ , Wellington: New Zealand Institute, 1901, front cover, 320 × 255 mm. J. C. BEAGLEHOLE ROOM, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON LIBRARY; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES

## CHAPTER NINE

## _Maoriland in Focus_

WE NOW RETURN TO THE INTELLECTUAL milieu of Maoriland – the disjunctive space of interaction between the cultures in colonial New Zealand – to make a critical appraisal of several of the leading participants. The complex and conflicted status of a type such as Sir Walter Buller, collector of curios and Lindauer portraits, has been approached in earlier chapters, together with the work of pioneering museologist and historian of Māori art Augustus Hamilton. These figures are contrasted here with Johannes C. Andersen, the future Turnbull librarian and Peter Gibbons' exemplar of a cultural coloniser; Alfred Hill, musicologist and composer of Maoriland; and James Cowan, the journalist and historian whose Māori biographies saw him hailed as the 'Plutarch of Maoriland'. While these individuals were to varying extents bicultural, insofar as Māori culture informed the context of their scholarly endeavours, some vivid differences emerge when the focus shifts to their relationship with the contemporary Māori world. The dissonances typical of this period, compounded by the dismay or embarrassment with which many later scholars approached them, have served to mask recognition of a cultural milieu which is highly distinctive when considered in the context of the wider British imperial world.

### **HIGH PRIESTS OF MAORILAND**

The appropriative strategies signalled by the term Maoriland, identified by historian Peter Gibbons and others as vital tools in the cultural colonisation of New Zealand, were central to colonial identity formation. European settlers plundered the history and culture belonging to Māori, to serve both as a ready-made ancient history of the islands and as distinctive signifiers for an evolving settler identity. Despite its Australian coinage and popularisation by the Sydney weekly the _Bulletin_ , 'Maoriland' became widely used by New Zealanders as a synonym for the more prosaically titled New Zealand and even served as the cable address for the Department of Tourist and Health Resorts. Some may have argued for a formal name change but others, such as a Mr Tanner, speaking at a 1908 meeting in Wellington of the (Pākehā) New Zealand Natives' Association, denounced the 'slanginess' of the term and was especially appalled by the notion that 'If . . . you happened to be in England, and you talked about Maoriland, you might be thought to have come from some place that was inhabited by aborigines.' Among other proposed names for the country were Maoria and Maoriania, as well as the widely championed and indisputably ancient name, Aotearoa:

So let us change 'New Zealand' back to 'Aotearoa,' 'The Long White Cloud,' as the Maoris named it, and let us be Aotearoans. Macaulay's New Zealander, contemplating the ruins of St. Paul's . . . can be changed into an Aotearoan. (But who of us wants to stand and gaze at the ruins of St, Paul's, anyway? And if we change the name of the country to Aotearoa, we could feel that posterity no longer expected it of us, which would be all to the good.)

In Māori usage, Aotearoa usually referred to the North Island, as opposed to Te Wai Pounamu – the greenstone waters, or South Island. Yet, according to James Cowan, who was contradicting a reviewer of his book _New Zealand, or Ao-teä-roa (The Long Bright World)_ (1907), Māori travellers historically used the word to refer to the entire homeland. Cowan argued for the more literal translation, 'Long, Bright World', citing evidence that the name was widespread in Polynesia and was given to the new land by the immigrants from the Society and Cook islands. Cowan's theories were in turn contested by the Māori scholar Henry M. Stowell (Hāre Hongi), who claimed that Aotearoa was a far more ancient name applied exclusively to the North Island.

The literature of Maoriland embraces a considerably wider field than the late-colonial poetry and fiction examined in Jane Stafford and Mark Williams' critical survey, _Maoriland: New Zealand Literature, 1872–1914_ (2006). An important branch – broadly but imprecisely defined as 'ethnology' – concerns an idealised past that, though progressively erased by the intrusion of civilisation, was susceptible to 'capture' from elderly informants or else might be established through archaeological evidence. Whether this diverse literature entirely qualifies as 'non-fiction' is a moot question. Despite occasional contributions by Māori writers, in the nineteenth century such ethnological investigation was a largely amateur, Pākehā affair and usually conducted by those who were professionally engaged with land acquisition – the surveyors, Land Court judges and lawyers who happened also to be the leading collectors of Māori curios. As this book has discussed, highly speculative findings were offered within scholarly papers contributed to various gentlemanly institutes and philosophical societies, and subsequently published in the journals of the New Zealand Institute (1869–) or the Polynesian Society (1892–). These essays, alongside substantial monographs by the likes of John White, S. Percy Smith, Edward Tregear and Elsdon Best, comprise the scholarly infrastructure of Maoriland.

In a framing essay for the catalogue of _Te Maori_ , the influential exhibition of Māori treasures that toured four United States museums from 1984 to 1986, Sidney Moko Mead profiled the fortunes of Māori art through the colonial period. He asserted that, whereas ethnologists such as Augustus Hamilton and H. D. Skinner lacked linguistic proficiency and hence were condemned to an outside view of Māori art, his collaborators on _Te Maori_ were fully 'bilingual and bicultural'. One of the leading contributors – responsible not only for an essay on tribal art styles but also the catalogue entries for the entire exhibition – was none other than David R. Simmons, the museum ethnologist who capriciously fabricated a patently fake provenance for the greenstone slab that Trevor Lloyd found in a cave (see Chapter Seven). That episode dated from 1982, the very period in which _Te Maori_ was in preparation, and scrutiny of his catalogue entries suggests that Simmons' fanciful clairvoyance has been at play there as well. Consider the following description of a small carved wooden lizard, with no recorded provenance, that came to Te Papa via the Oldman and Webster collections:

This lizard is a fragment of a larger carving. A lizard is a sign of life and death, therefore of mana and tapu. Such a sign sets an object apart. In this instance it is the sign that the objects protected by this lizard are the property of a woman of high rank, probably Hinematioro of Te Aitanga a Hauiti at Tolaga Bay.

What is worrying about this and other texts by Simmons is the complete lack of evidence to support such fantastical assertions. It is impossible to know whether Mead or other contributors to the volume expressed concerns over Simmons' performance – for was he not the ethnologist in charge of New Zealand's premier collection of Māori art? – but this example suggests that expertise in a language and culture does not necessarily mean that you are working in the interests of that language and culture (or conversely, that a lack of proficiency need not undermine initiatives that are). With these issues in mind, the following section examines the activities of several leading figures within the culture of Maoriland. Some, like the collector Sir Walter Buller, the ethnologist Augustus Hamilton, and the writer James Cowan, have played leading roles in earlier chapters. Others, like the future Turnbull librarian Johannes C. Andersen, and the composer Alfred Hill, have received little more than passing mention. But they now become relevant to an analysis that considers not just cultural expertise or its lack, but also, more tellingly, the degree and calibre of interaction with the Māori world.

Sir Walter Buller carefully fashioned himself as a leading scholar as well as a formidable lawyer. He was certainly prolific, but in keeping with his collecting endeavours these publications were largely aimed at self-aggrandisement. In January 1894 Buller addressed the Wellington Philosophical Society on the history of Papaitonga, where his lakeside country estate had formerly been the site of a devastating massacre of the Muaūpoko tribe, urging that 'everything relating to the early history of this land of our adoption should be carefully recorded and preserved for the student of the future'. Buller's recording of the oral history of Papaitonga by Ngāti Raukawa chief Waretini Tuainuku – both in English translation and in the original Māori – retains considerable value. In a subsequent essay Buller foresaw the future worth of the vast amounts of historical evidence presented at land court hearings:

_Sir Walter Buller_ , photolithograph, 140 × 95 mm, 'New Zealand Portraits', _New Zealand Graphic and Ladies' Journal_ , 12 August 1893, p. 80. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, QMS-0327-001

I am of [the] opinion that there would be no surer way of compiling a true history of the Maori people than by sifting and comparing the evidence recorded by the Judges of the Native Land Courts all over the country during the last thirty years. Of course much of it is unreliable and worthless; but that there are treasures of unspeakable value to the future Maori historian scattered through these countless volumes cannot for a moment be doubted. The real information is to be found in the private note-books of the Judges rather than in the minute-books of the Court, which for the most part are mere records of proceedings, or, at best, contain a mere outline of the evidence.

Others involved in this industry concurred regarding the value of these archives. A decade on, in the preface to _The Story of Te Waharoa, . . . together with Sketches of Ancient Maori Life and History_ (1907), John Alexander Wilson regretted that he was unable to be as precise as he would wish in the names of persons and places relating to the ancient urukehu, or 'white New Zealanders' – 'the reason being that I am not permitted to peruse my Judge's notes in the records of the Native Land Court without payment, which I cannot consent to, seeing the information is required for historical purposes only'. By 1907, then, the historical treasure trove was already undergoing commodification for the benefit of 'Maori historians'.

Buller's prescient comment about the Land Court records, quoted above, jostles uncomfortably against evidence of behaviour that, especially from a Māori perspective, is truly shocking. In the already cited paper presented in November 1894, 'Observations on some Peculiar Maori Remains, with Remarks on the Ancient Institution of _Tapu_ ', Buller documents a 'show and tell' that exposes the extreme gulf that lay between indigenous sensibilities and those held by the Pākehā savants. He informed the Wellington Philosophical Society that he had 'the pleasure of exhibiting this evening for your inspection two somewhat remarkable specimens of Maori remains'. These were portions of skulls; one that revealed a 'very thick brain-case' came from his property at Papaitonga ('a perfect necropolis of human bones'), while the other had been collected by his son in 1878 from a ' _wahi tapu_ or sacred grove some six or seven miles up the Opotiki River':

The place of sepulture was a hollow tree about 4ft. in diameter. The bones of the dead had been deposited within the tree from an aperture about 12ft. from the ground, and the interments had been continued from time to time, till the hollow tree was completely filled up with human remains. For a long period of time this burial-place, protected by a thick clump of bush, had been unvisited by any Maori, the resident tribes having, with the advent of civilisation, adopted other modes of disposing of their dead. But the hollow tree-trunk, containing the remains of a former generation, had decayed with time and broken asunder, discharging its ghastly memorials in a confused heap all around. At the time of my son's visit, in company with Captain Mair, the place was so strictly _tapu_ that it was considered unsafe for any European to trespass upon it, to say nothing of interfering with the human relics. My son had therefore to content himself with only a hurried inspection, and, in order to bring away the remarkable specimen now exhibited, had to break off and leave behind the major part of the skull. I believe the clump of bush is still under strict _tapu_ , and it will probably remain so for many years to come. The island in the Papaitonga Lake, on the other hand, where he obtained the heavy cranium now exhibited, although the scene of a terrible slaughter, and practically the cemetery of the Muaupoko tribe, has never been _tapu_ at all. This will no doubt seem strange to you, but it is readily explainable. The two cases afford a good illustration of the manner in which the Maoris of old understood and interpreted what Mr. Colenso has fittingly termed 'that mysterious and intricate institution of the _tapu_.'

Buller blithely explained that it was through the law of tapu that 'the tombs and graves of their dead – objects held sacred even by the most untutored savage – were preserved inviolable'. Simultaneously, however, the disingenuous text demonstrated the readiness with which indigenous burial places were violated by leading Pākehā collectors, for whom tapu seemingly held no dread whatsoever.

Buller offers an extreme example of a fully bilingual scholar and collector who deployed his linguistic prowess in opposition to Māori interests. While he would officially be categorised as bicultural, the power that he wielded was that of British law, which he used for purely personal interest. That was how he defrauded the Keepa family of significant landholdings and capital reserves. Even the fate of his art and curio collection saw personal interest triumph over national or Māori interests, when he disposed of significant treasures in his quest for European honours. Chapter One related his gift of the alluring poi dancer's portrait to the Prince of Wales which – together with a donation of £5,000 – secured the coveted knighthood. But there were other valuables sacrificed for lesser baubles. The 'tomb' of Waata Taranui, exhibited at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition to considerable acclaim, went to the Musée d'Ethnographie du Trocadéro in Paris together with a sizeable group of other artefacts. The curator of the Trocadéro, who had extravagantly praised and illustrated the tomb in a scholarly essay on the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, smoothed the way to the French government's recognition of Buller as Officier de l'Instruction Publique. Interviewing Buller in London in 1893, a journalist enquired into the fate of the carvings that were then on display at the Imperial Institute, which included an important Te Arawa canoe prow and stern-piece. Despite the earnest assurances that these would return to New Zealand along with the rest of his collection, Buller succumbed to the flattery of Dr Adolf Bastian, director of the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde (later the Ethnologisches Museum) in Berlin. Together with a group of other items, the canoe carvings ended up in that museum where a half-century later they sustained serious damage from Allied bombing during World War II.

In distinction to the colonial-born Buller, Augustus Hamilton was an English immigrant who arrived with his family as a young man in 1875. While his omnivorous ethnological collecting bore a certain resemblance to that practised by Buller, from as early as 1883 – when he assumed responsibility for the fledgling museum of the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute – his destiny as an advocate for the preservation of taonga in museums was firmly set in place. Chapter Three explored Hamilton's advocacy of the Maori Antiquities Act, his mission for a National Maori Museum and his patronage of Nelson Illingworth, while Chapter Four noted the entrepreneurial flair with which he coordinated the model pā at the Christchurch International Exhibition. Critics have lambasted the 'traditionalism' he attempted to enforce on the Māori artists he sponsored, pointing to the 'strange distance within the anthropology of the nineteenth century: the distance between the anthropologists themselves and the "other," the people they were examining, observing and classifying in their quest to understand the origins of mankind'. However, in his nuanced study of the evolving Māori collections and displays in the national museum, Conal McCarthy emphasises how – despite Hamilton's ethnocentric outlook – his work garnered the respect of Māori. At a major tribal hui at Pāpāwai Pā near Greytown, Tūnuiārangi (Major Brown) bestowed on Hamilton the name Tūpai-whakarongo-wānanga – after the tohunga who guided their ancestral waka _Tākitimu_. Perhaps this honour accounts for Hamilton's proposal that Illingworth produce an idealised bust of Tūpai, to accompany the earlier bust of the museum director himself.

Besides serving as the director of the Colonial (later Dominion) Museum, Augustus Hamilton was also its first photographer. Nevertheless, apart from an unpublished, five-volume compilation by Ross O'Rourke, 'The Hamilton/McDonald 1/1 Plate Catalogue in the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa' – the title of which signals the problematic entanglement of Hamilton's body of work with that of James McDonald – there has been little serious engagement with this important corpus of photographs. O'Rourke's catalogue reveals an astonishing diversity in Hamilton's 'ethnological' focus, including not only the documentation of carved artefacts in isolation but also in crowded, trophy-like assemblages, portraits of chiefly visitors decked in cloaks and posing with weapons from the collection, staged photographs in the field, and capricious still-life compositions including one that deploys an ancient skull as a _memento mori_. Highly romanticised images jostle against more 'scientific' approaches, as when Tūreiti Te Heuheu Tūkino and his son, Hepi, both posed bare-chested for 'anthropological' sets of profile, three-quarter and frontal portraits. This impressive photographic oeuvre, extending the considerable archive from which Hamilton illustrated his monumental _Maori Art_ (1901), has been used to _illustrate_ histories but has yet to receive due attention in its own right.

Johannes Andersen, _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1907, front cover, 220 × 140 mm. J. C. BEAGLEHOLE ROOM, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON LIBRARY; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF IMAGE SERVICES

Despite his lack of fluency in te reo Māori, Hamilton was intimately connected to Māori as sellers, donors, informants, portrait subjects and artists. Standing in vivid contrast is the work of a synthesising author such as Johannes C. Andersen, whose contact with the Māori world was extremely limited but for whom – at second hand – that world seemingly offered rich prospects. In a lengthy doctoral thesis, historian Peter Gibbons situated Andersen as a prime cultural coloniser in New Zealand. Certainly, Andersen's ambitions to influence contemporary artists are evident in the preface to his rambling 1907 epic, _Maori Life in Ao-Tea_ – a 675-page tome dedicated to ancient Māori life and culture – in which he clarifies his desire that it might serve as a quarry for artists in search of Māori themes:

The new world of Maori myth and tradition and story has, so far as art and poetry are concerned, been practically untouched. A time is looked for, and this work is an attempt to hasten its coming, when the world's art will be enriched with scenes from Maori legend; and he who will break away from old-world fetters will find in this land a mine of wealth almost, if not quite, equal to that afforded by Greek or Scandinavian mythology. The dusky skin has been urged as an objection to artistic treatment: but if marble be unsuitable, is there not bronze? Many of the scenes and tales scattered through this book will be found specially written with a view to furnishing subjects for painters and sculptors; poets, too, will revel in good things.

Andersen's book bears an extraordinary dedication, which amounts to nothing less than a 'mission statement' for ethnological artists and their attempts to record a fast-passing world for the benefit of future generations:

To the Older Maori People of Ao-tea-roa

and to the Younger Poets and Artists of New Zealand,

WITH HOPES FOR THE IMMORTALITY OF THE ONE

AT THE HANDS OF THE OTHERS.

Nevertheless, in describing this realm as 'practically untouched', the Christchurch-based Andersen exhibits no glimmer of awareness that the artistic tendency he was proposing was then effectively at its zenith.

Had Gottfried Lindauer not virtually invented the historical Māori portrait as a genre, and was the Lindauer Art Gallery, by 1907 holding over 50 portraits and large-scale paintings of Māori life, not one of Auckland's premier attractions? Had Charles F. Goldie not firmly established himself in the 1900s as New Zealand's premier painter of the Māori, achieving renown for the depiction of 'dusky skin'? Had the Canterbury Society of Arts itself not purchased two important early works by Goldie, including _One of the Old School_ (1900), a portrayal of Ngāti Whātua rangatira Wātene Tautari in traditional attire? And was the illustrated press, including the _Weekly Press_ in Andersen's own Christchurch, not saturated with Māori representations by these and other artists? Even within Andersen's own specialist sphere of poetry, was there not already a significant published corpus of 'Maoriland' poets? Had the recent Christchurch International Exhibition – whose prize-winning 'Ode' Andersen had authored – not witnessed the spectacular re-creation of an 'ancient' Māori pā? The precise programme urged by Andersen – that New Zealand artists should turn to Māori myth and history – had already been realised in books by Sir George Grey and Kate McCosh Clark, in the history paintings of Louis J. Steele and Kennett Watkins and, perhaps most spectacularly, in the itinerant German artist Wilhelm Dittmer's magnificent illustrated book _Te Tohunga_ (1907), published in London in the same year as Andersen's turgid _Maori Life in Ao-Tea_.

Despite its subsequent classification as 'ethnological', _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ arguably belongs as much to the realm of fiction and – like so many colonial intellectual productions – was an after-hours, amateur affair. The heady pot-pourri originated in Andersen's sizeable personal library, which he carefully lists in the prefatory material and in footnotes seemingly intended to authenticate the bizarre swathes of direct speech uttered by the pre-contact denizens of Aotearoa. Hence the guardedly appreciative comment in Āpirana Ngata's foreword:

His object seems to have been to convey through the lips of the traditional heroes and heroines of pre-pakeha days a conception of their material, moral and religious environment. The ancient Maori is heard thinking aloud.

Ngata's final sentence is a masterpiece of deadpan irony: 'As a Maori, albeit a degenerate and much-contaminated, I have to acknowledge my appreciation of the conscientious, painstaking and interesting effort of the author to re-construct for us the scenes of the past.' It is interesting to note that recent commentators have accepted this delicious statement, entirely at face value, as evidencing the internalised inferiority of a colonised subject.

Regardless of Andersen's virtually complete lack of contact with the contemporary Māori world, _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ launched the civil servant from the Lands and Survey Department as Christchurch's 'expert' on Māori culture and laid the basis for his future post as chief librarian of the Alexander Turnbull Library. In lectures and published articles, he framed questions such as 'Can the Maori be Made Possible in Art?'; Andersen argued that, just as Keats, Thorvaldsen and Leighton had transmuted Greek myth into poetry, sculpture and painting, so the means of making the Māori 'possible' lay entirely in 'his old legendary histories and myths'. He also touched on a further, more problematic question – 'Are the men who created the materials as available for art as the materials themselves?':

Those who are familiar with the Maori of civilisation will have for him that proverbial concomitant of familiarity – contempt, and will declare him absolutely outside the realm of art. Those who know him from his legends – who are able, in the abstract, to re-create him and his past surroundings, will declare him a perfect subject for art. We do not judge an Achilles by a Greek hawker, nor an Odysseus by an itinerant musician; neither should we a Maori hero by his modern degenerate.

Here again we find 'degenerate' used as a type, the precise mode that Ngata critiqued in his foreword to Andersen's magnum opus. The appropriation of Māori culture as proposed by Andersen apparently required artists and poets to overlook the disappointingly less-than-ideal, flesh-and-blood Māori – 'more often slouching than stately, fleshy than muscular'. For Andersen, it was through the imagination alone that the Māori past might be recuperated for Pākehā use, notwithstanding the important purpose served by Māori material culture: 'While not advocating a study of Maori art for its intrinsic artistic value, he [Andersen] suggested that a knowledge of its principles would do much to help the student to appreciate the spirit and atmosphere which gave birth to Maori art and Maori folk-lore.'

Andersen attempted to follow his own earnest advice but, despite intensive investment in the scansion, produced poems that are ponderous in the extreme. Even the prize-winning 'Exhibition Ode' is virtually unreadable today, although the 'Māori' section – set by Alfred Hill to a haka-like rhythm – has proved extremely quotable for its 'self-exterminating' sentiment:

Pioneers found the land

Torn by battle-loving band;

Pioneers have but done

What by Nature was begun,

Brothers! less by this our shame;

Ye were dying when we came

For Andersen, as for many other colonial collectors and commentators, contemporary Māori culture was both degenerate and moribund and its treasures consequently there for the taking. Andersen even presumed to _demonstrate_ Māori art, as at the October 1909 meeting of the Christchurch Savage Club when 'Savage Johannes C. Andersen gave an exhibition of Maori tattooing and a dissertation on the art, and Savage Hansard, whose face was made the horrid example, sang a Maori song'. According to Peter Gibbons, a 'later generation of [Pākehā] cultural high priests was critical of Andersen for his dilettantish librarianship, the banality of his verse and his pedantry', but he correctly points out that these are aesthetic rather than historical judgements about Andersen's cultural significance. 'Although antagonistic to the depredations of the early colonists, he was himself a coloniser, appropriating aspects of Maori culture for his own purposes while never, for all his sympathy with Maori, becoming bicultural.'

The sterility of Andersen's approach can be contrasted to the more sympathetic engagement with the Māori world exhibited by the Wellington composer Alfred Hill. It was Hill's rich chords at the opening ceremony of the Christchurch International Exhibition that delivered a sense of substance to Andersen's clumsy 'Exhibition Ode', and the composer was mesmerised by what he termed the 'weird beauty of Maori music'. Hill was fascinated by the way that Māori laments and poi songs bore 'strong resemblance in form, melody, and style to the religious chants, hymns, and popular songs of the white races'. Haka and canoe chants, on the other hand, he recognised as survivors of the 'rhythmic shouting' that comprised pre-European Māori performance, examples of which he collected from a wide range of Māori informants – including the models he encountered in the studio of his friend Charles F. Goldie. Hill's project resembled Andersen's, in that his principal interest in Māori music was as inspiration for his own compositions, which included such ambitious works as the 1902 comic opera _Tapu_ , with lyrics by the Maoriland poet Arthur Adams. But the significant difference lay in Hill's close engagement with the contemporary Māori world – including, for example, the many Māori cast members who worked in his productions – as well as that world's enthusiasm for Hill's music.

Whereas Andersen blurred his entirely secondary sources into a seamless and necessarily fake edifice, Hill scrupulously acknowledged the people who served as his primary informants. Āpirana Ngata, Te Heuheu Tūkino and Henry M. Stowell were avid supporters who all sang for him. Hill recognised a lament he had transcribed from Te Heuheu at Taupō when James Carroll sang it over the body of Premier Seddon at the emotional tangi staged at Parliament in June 1906. Wī Duncan, a Te Aute boy and champion rugby player from Waipatu in Hawke's Bay, provided an old poi song that Hill introduced into _Tapu_ – and Duncan was professionally engaged to induct the Australian ballerinas into their role as poi dancers. Duncan also supplied a Māori hymn that was 'supposed to be an old Rarotongan melody', which Hill adapted as the principal theme in his cantata _Hinemoa_ (1896). Music contributed by Īna Te Papatahi in Goldie's studio meanwhile provided material for a string quartet as well as contributing to the best-selling song 'Waiata Poi'. What is most remarkable is the evidence that Hill's music has been reappropriated for Māori purposes. In a recent Master of Music thesis, 'The Forgotten Soundtrack of Maoriland', Melissa Cross documents the way in which Hill's 'Song of the Locust', from the soundtrack of Rudall Hayward's _Rewi's Last Stand_ , entered the repertoire of a wide range of Māori performers as 'Tarakihi', where its origins are usually given as 'traditional'.

Alfred Hill's work in music can usefully be compared to that of Charles F. Goldie in the field of art. At least during this early period, Goldie's paintings similarly depended on close working relationships with his models and resulted in works that were accorded considerable respect by a wider Māori world, both in his own time and in the century to follow. Neither Hill nor Goldie was bicultural in the sense that was, and still is, expected of Māori, yet – in contrast to Andersen – their respective works embodied esteem for Māori as an integral element in New Zealand's cultural landscape. That Gibbons was unable to produce his long-promised book on Andersen should not be surprising, for the latter's legacy has found little traction with posterity. Writing to Buck in 1930, Ngata made a withering judgement of Andersen, who was desperate to collaborate on Ngata's project to publish ancient Māori songs: 'He has much in common with Cowan, except that Cowan is more readable.' Not only did Andersen's lack of proficiency in the language mean that he was totally reliant on translations, but Ngata further diagnosed a 'fatal facility for versification which takes his mind off the reality of the Maori poetry'.

It was the populist nature of James Cowan's output that prompted Ngata to tar him with the same brush as he did Andersen, but there were some important differences that deserve recognition. Unlike Andersen's ludicrous evocation of a non-specific ancient world, set in no identifiable time or place, Cowan determinedly wrote from his own time and place. His confident bilingualism, like Buller's, was the consequence of a childhood spent on the frontier – in Cowan's case, a farm near Kihikihi in the King Country that occupied part of the Ōrākau battle site. Unlike Buller, however, Cowan used his proficiency in the language to give voice to Māori perspectives on the radical changes endured under colonisation. Throughout his journalistic work, as well as in substantial publications such as the two-volume _The New Zealand Wars: A History of the Maori Campaigns and the Pioneering Period_ (1922–23), Cowan was scrupulous in acknowledging his sources, or 'human documents', which in the latter case were the Māori veterans who accompanied him over the battlefields. In 1910, three years after Andersen's _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ , Cowan published _The Maoris of New Zealand_ , which contributed to a series titled _The Makers of Australasia_ under the editorship of James Hight of Canterbury College. In justifying the inclusion of Cowan's book in the series, Hight comments:

The British colonisation of New Zealand involved a violent change in the conditions of life in these Islands; but it did not break all connection and interplay between the Maori era and the _Pakeha_ age that was then beginning: the dispossessed people had a distinctive native culture, the product of centuries of evolution, and they were not decimated by the process of settlement and conquest.

Hight concluded by inverting Sir George Grey's image of historical darkness: 'The life we live to-day is coloured by the light streaming fitfully out upon us from the past when the Maori possessed the land.' This influence was strongest, in Hight's view, 'not in the lower planes of existence, but in the higher stages of our thought and feeling'.

Opening the book with a chapter titled 'Past and Present', Cowan offers his personal memories of the elderly Waikato chief Hauāuru (West Wind), 'a picturesque figure who . . . typified the dying manhood of his people'. Writing in a nostalgic register and deploying the florid style that alienated later nationalist critics, Cowan emphasised the historical gulf that separated this 'flotsam of the primitive world stranded on the shores of modern progress' from contemporary Māori marked by that modernity:

Decidedly a more interesting type, that blanketed tattoo-spiralled old warrior, than the present generation of Maori _rangatira_ , who as often as not wears tailor-made clothes of the latest pattern, has a piano and a graphophone [sic] in his European-built house, is proud of his break at billiards, and whirls to the races in a motor-car.

Cowan farewells the long-dead Hauāuru, while emphasising the historical transformation that had been enacted by the colonial era:

So _haere-ra_! Valé, O West-Wind! It is well that your bones repose in the tribal grave on yonder terraced hill. The white man's flocks graze over your old home; the white man's locomotive screeches through your old battlefields and hunting-grounds; the sacred memorials of the past are obliterated; your tribe is a remnant. _Haere-ra_! for the _aukati_ border-line which you drew against the white man has vanished before his breath.

An extraordinary photograph of Cowan appeared in the Alexander Turnbull Library's 2014 exhibition _Borderland: The World of James Cowan_. Reflecting on the show, curator Ariana Tikao discussed Cowan's fascination with Pākehā-Māori – Europeans who adopted a Māori way of life – and pointed to _James Cowan, with a Moko Drawn in Pen_ as suggestive of Cowan's status as a twentieth-century Pākehā-Māori. Ink graffiti decorate a photograph of Cowan as a young man – adding not just a facial moko, but also huia feathers, tāniko pattern on his collar, heitiki and pendant in his ear. The evocative ink caption – 'Brooding over my woes (and moko)' – suggests that the defaced photograph may relate to a later period in his life and a depression connected with his alienation from the increasingly professionalised climate of historical writing described by historian Chris Hilliard. Unlike Andersen, whose secure employment at the Turnbull Library enabled him to work on several projects at a time (reputedly using a separate table for each), Cowan's productions increasingly relied on desperate cut-and-paste deployment of earlier writings. The melancholy, graffiti-enhanced photograph may relate more particularly to the demise of two long-planned projects: an ambitious book on tā moko, and another that proposed to accord Goldie's work similar treatment to that enjoyed by Lindauer's in the well-received volume _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ (1930).

Unidentified photographer, _James Cowan, with a Moko Drawn in Pen_ , ink on gelatin silver photograph, 163 × 109 mm. COWAN COLLECTION, ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, PACOLL-10171

When in November 1920 Goldie placed his collection on loan to the Auckland Art Gallery, Cowan marked the occasion by publishing biographies of the portrait subjects in two lengthy articles in the _Auckland Star_. These would undoubtedly have supplied the basis for commentaries in a book that both men discussed in detail in 1934–35, an endeavour that Goldie saw as a means of providing financial support to a friend in need. In July 1935 he offered funds, mentioning that he had recently sold three small paintings for 250 guineas, £350 and 150 guineas respectively. Goldie later sent a £60 cheque to aid Cowan in preparing the book, generously offering not only to cover all publication costs but also to donate his share of any proceeds to Cowan. In discussing the selection of illustrations, Goldie drew an intriguing distinction between what he conceived of as 'subject' portraits, which he was advocating for the book, and his 'straight' portraits. He wanted a de luxe edition aimed at wealthy tourists and first proposed the title _'Noble Relics of a Noble Race', Rangatiras of Ao-tea-roa_ , before settling on _The Rangatira_. The cover, he informed Cowan, would be a specially painted still-life of a huia feather with its shadow cast on a putty-coloured background. Unfortunately, Goldie was dissatisfied with the quality of the reproductions organised by the publisher, Harry Tombs, and aborted the project. The book on moko, which would also draw on decades of work, similarly fell by the wayside. Rather than affirmation as the Plutarch of Maoriland, and royal recognition such as had been bestowed on Andersen, Cowan received the life sentence of an ephemeral career in journalism.

### **NEW ZEALAND DIFFERENCE?**

Finally, there is the question of the relative status – vis-à-vis other British settler colonies – of the cultural milieu under review. By almost completely ignoring Australia, while magnifying New Zealand's metropolitan–colonial axis, this book conforms to a pronounced tendency of the period it surveys. As discussed in Chapter Seven, the San Francisco mail service had by the turn of the century reduced the lengthy voyage from Britain to little more than four weeks. New Zealanders consequently tended to look away from Australia towards America – or more precisely, _past_ America to 'Home'. Nevertheless, any assessment of the relative status of ethnological art and collecting in New Zealand in this period requires at least a comparative glance towards Australia, as well as the North American continent over which New Zealand mail parcels and travellers passed by train. To help in registering some differences between the Australasian colonies, there is the response to the 1889–90 New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition by a prominent Melbourne journalist, and a supposedly humorous cover illustration contributed in 1911 by a leading Sydney artist to the popular weekly journal the _Bulletin_.

Francis Myers, the celebrated 'Telemachus' of the Melbourne _Argus_ , was immediately captivated by what he termed the 'grotesque and historical' nature of the Maori Court at the Dunedin exhibition. The Australian visitor also remarked on the dignified presence of Māori drinkers in his hotel bar, declaring them 'as decent, well-clad, comfortable-looking old gentlemen as you would find in Melbourne'. He observed that, although there was no Māori presence on the dais at the opening, there were around 30 Māori in the hall, 'some of them tatooed [sic], and others in the simple garb of gentlemen'. When visiting the exhibition Myers noted the presence of a Māori visitor, whom he identified as 'a gentleman of a high position and very considerable wealth':

No Supreme Court judge on an assize morning could have been dressed with more accuracy. His tall hat shone, his frock coat fitted his body perfectly, and he wore them with as much grace and ease as his ancestor one of the flax mats hanging in the showcases. His hands were gloved, he carried a nice umbrella, and bowed to his acquaintances like a lord of the manor.

Even the chief's demeanour – 'looking with a very nonchalant sort of interest at the wonders of the show' – he found noteworthy. This is because Myers was registering a situation that had no parallel in Australia, where Aboriginal peoples were not only denied citizenship but were almost completely excluded from urban colonial life.

Myers focused intently on the more sensational exhibits on display, including the preserved Māori head on loan from the Auckland Museum: 'It has known much that awful head, the jaws have devoured much, its brain has conceived much. One desires to question it, to get at its story.' The point, of course, is that the story was unobtainable:

What a tale he would tell if some weird sister could compel him to utterance. What a fortune he could make could some juggling showman get him, and by aid of a little ventriloquism and electricity work him up to a mystery. He stands there the embodiment of mystery, the sphinx of the Maori race, whose riddle will be for ever unread. For the longer we tarry in this court, and the more we ponder over all relics of the race, the deeper does the darkness become which obscures its origin and early history. They came out of the unknown as they depart into the unknown. Those who have passed away were strong and absolute in savagedom as are those chiefs who remain in the European civilisation.

In front of a stone kūmara god that had reputedly been carried to Aotearoa on _Mataatua_ some 22 generations earlier, Myers abandons himself to a full-scale vision of the 'Unknown' that he imagined was provoked by the exhibition:

You also have seen strange things, oh quaint and hideously grotesque Kumara. Did those dead lips ever play on that parched pipe to your honour? Did Maori maidens gambol before you, and Maori warriors sit in solemn row? I do not think so. You are not a god who would have any affinity with garlands or gambols, with incense or other sweet service. With all your kinsfolk and acquaintance here you symbolise the Unknown in a hideous fashion. The Maori gods, indeed, seem one and all to follow conceptions of a grossly malignant deity, of monstrous and outlandish personifications of gods who would appear at times in forest depths and dark and horrible caves and festival or burial places, rolling goggle eyes, thrusting out mocking lips, lolling out great tongues, coarsely mocking and gibing at the mad masque of humanity. The gods of the household, the doorpost, the temple, are all monsters as laboriously wrought for utter uncouthness as were the Hellenic deities for beauty.

Myers' extravagant adjectives – 'malignant', 'monstrous', 'outlandish', 'uncouth' – conformed to a stereotypical European response that contrasted Māori grotesquery with Greek idealism. By comparison, the commentaries by Dr T. M. Hocken, analysed in Chapter One, are models of sober, descriptive writing.

Despite his evident enthusiasm for the display, Myers is nevertheless unsettled both by the nature of the assembled collections and by their seemingly tenuous relationship to the modern Māori world:

There is, indeed, much suggestiveness, and much instruction in the Maori court, but how strangely do the warlike, the bloodthirsty elements predominate! There are no useful products, no articles of commerce, save the flax mats, baskets, and other paltry if pretty toys or articles of small use. It seems that the Maori was always a gentleman in his anti-utilitarian ideas; he passed at one bound from the mat, the club, and the war dance to the frock coat, tall hat, and gloves, and the manners of the gentleman of to-day.

Norman Lindsay, _An Oversight_ , photolithograph, 430 × 275 mm, _Bulletin_ , 4 July 1912, front cover. ALEXANDER TURNBULL LIBRARY, N-P-1861-1

Following a survey of the documents and pictures of Early History, Myers returned for a final encounter with the 'grim teraphim', at which point he finally reveals the identity of the immaculately dressed Māori fellow visitor. 'Are some of your old acquaintances coming up through the clubs and the spears, the gods and the relics?', he enquired of the preserved head. 'Whose footstep is that – an ancestor's? Ah, no, it is too substantial, too stately. It is the Hon. H. K. Taiaroa, M.L.C., who is also a visitor, and who regards all these things with a quiet smile.'

As already demonstrated in the case of Trevor Lloyd's satirical work, published 'humour' can be highly revealing of social mores. In 'An Oversight', a front-page _Bulletin_ illustration of 1911, Norman Lindsay responded to news that a representative Australian portrait collection was planned for the federal capital of Canberra. Lindsay's sketch imagines a hapless young curator surrounded by the future collection, confronted by an elderly Aboriginal man identified as the son of King Billy, who asks: 'Yes, boss, plenty good picture here; but where my old man?' The humour supposedly lies in the very idea of an Aboriginal Australian expecting to be represented in, or even to visit, a 'Gallery of Distinguished Australians' – for Aboriginal peoples were considered incompatible with heroic portraiture. As this book has shown, the situation in New Zealand was very different, for it was precisely the widespread presence of Māori portraits and historicising depictions that drew many Māori visitors into museums and galleries. The Lindauer Art Gallery, which opened in 1901 on Auckland's main thoroughfare to the delight of tourists and locals alike, served in the first decade of the century as a veritable shrine for the cult of the Māori portrait. Goldie's studio – portrait gallery, curio display, ethnological laboratory and bohemian gathering space – had no parallel anywhere else in Australasia. From 1920, when the artist moved for a period to Sydney, his collection spent decades arrayed as a semi-permanent exhibit on the walls of the Auckland Art Gallery.

Interior of Auckland Art Gallery, November 1946, showing the Goldie loan collection. PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF _NEW ZEALAND HERALD_

The Hon. Hōri Kerei Taiaroa, the Ngāi Tahu chief whom Francis Myers describes visiting the Maori Court at the Dunedin exhibition, was then serving on the Legislative Council – the upper house of government. He therefore personifies the most significant difference between the Australasian colonies, namely New Zealand's recognition of Māori land rights and its enfranchisement of the Māori population. In 1867, four elected Māori representatives were welcomed into the House of Representatives in a radical if pragmatic move that was initially intended as temporary – until Māori land had been fully alienated – but which was extended indefinitely in 1876. As Ron Palenski points out in his investigation into New Zealand's national identity, this was a remarkable situation in comparison with the extreme marginalisation suffered by indigenous peoples in other British settler colonies. In Australia, for example, Aboriginal peoples did not gain the right to vote in federal elections until 1962; and in Canada those identified as 'Status Indians' were excluded from federal elections until 1960. Aboriginal and Indian parliamentary representation came even later. Regardless of the coercive or duplicitous methods by which land was alienated from Māori possession, the recognition of land rights and the citizenship conferred on Māori by the Treaty of Waitangi were exceptional within comparable colonial realms.

An intriguing aspect of New Zealand historiography is a pronounced aversion to claims of exceptionalism. Indeed, historian Miles Fairburn has claimed that New Zealand is exceptional precisely in its _lack_ of exceptionalism, arguing that the country was a 'Better Britain', an improved reproduction of the original, albeit with carefully calibrated Australian and American influences. However, this overlooks completely the crucial Māori contribution to New Zealand's history and identity, as well as the inescapable fact that – despite what postcolonial theorists sometimes appear to argue – every colonial context possesses its own unique characteristics. It is the _shared_ nature of the Māori oil portrait tradition that offers a truly distinctive feature of New Zealand art history. While the Hawaiian royalty and other indigenous elites utilised portrait painters, such patronage was limited by comparison with the Māori example. As already noted, Aboriginal oil portraits are relatively scarce in later-nineteenth-century Australian art and there is little evidence of indigenous engagement with portraits. If anything, they shun portraiture: indigenous discomfort with the genre is suggested by published warnings that routinely precede the appearance of depictions of Aboriginal peoples in Australian art galleries and their publications.

The American 'Indian Galleries' formed by Charles Bird King and George Catlin earlier in the nineteenth century, enacting in paint the 'preservation' of a doomed people, offer certain parallels with Partridge's Lindauer Art Gallery – a colonising culture, appropriating the lands of another people, memorialises the picturesque but noble appearance of the vanquished chiefs. Catlin's painted documentation of the Indian tribes was intended as ethnographic salvage and came in the wake of the Indian Removal Act of 1830, which expelled all American Indians – including 'civilised' tribes – from the eastern seaboard. Later in the century, American art is replete with imagery of the 'Wild West', including romanticised depictions of the Indian life patterns that had been systematically destroyed by westward white expansion. Understandably, given this climate of 'ethnic cleansing', what seems to be missing in the American context is any significant patronage of European artists on the part of the indigenous world, or a continuing engagement with the genre, to match the widespread Māori co-option of colonial-era portraiture in New Zealand.

The most significant factor that conspired against adequate recognition of New Zealand's vibrant, cross-cultural tradition of ethnological art was the blinkered embarrassment of the Pākehā scholarly establishment. Artist and historian Alexander Hare McLintock, curator of the first survey exhibition of New Zealand art (1940), perversely denied the very existence of such a tradition when he wrote in his introduction: 'Although it is quite apparent that at the present time New Zealand is far from possessing an art truly national, the future is not without promise.' Contributing to a 1960 lecture series on the effects of remoteness on New Zealand, English art historian Peter Tomory described New Zealand as 'an experiment in European civilisation' and concluded that 'the result of this experiment is in sight'. Despite surmising that centuries of remoteness had weakened Māori art, and blaming 'European officials' for restraining Māori carvers within traditional designs, Tomory mentioned 'two panels at Rotorua which use European forms in a powerful composition not unreminiscent of William Blake'. These carvings, which Tomory knew from photographs shown to him by the immigrant Dutch modernist Theo Schoon, are clearly Tene Waitere's innovative panels depicting Hatupatu's flight from Kurangaituku [see p. 153].

A quarter-century after his pioneering exhibition, McLintock contributed a paltry five-page entry on 'Art in New Zealand: Beginnings: 1642–1939' to the 1966 encyclopaedia that appeared under his general editorship. Here he claimed that – with the exception of Angas, Barraud ('who had painted some execrable portraits of native chiefs') and Robley (an 'ill-trained amateur') – 'art had no place for the Maori'. Steele is absent, Goldie is mentioned only in passing, although Lindauer 'fulfilled a useful function and his prosaic and cameralike portraits, with their detailed accessories of garments, ornaments, and weapons, record in subdued colour his impressions of the character and culture of a race which he believed to be dying'. In a separate volume of the encyclopaedia appears a fulsome, 21-page entry on 'Maori art' authored by Jock McEwen, Secretary of the Department of Maori Affairs, which contested 'the habit of ethnologists to study Maori art as if it had come to an abrupt end on the arrival of the European settlers' and stressed the existence of a continuous tradition enduring to the present day. The general 'Art' entry cites no literature whatsoever, whereas McEwen appends an impressive bibliography headed by Hamilton's _Art Workmanship of the Maori [Race] in New Zealand_ (1896). What is completely missing is any acknowledgement of the significant interaction between European and Māori in cultural endeavours, including the rich corpus of ethnological art housed in New Zealand's libraries, art galleries and museums, and the associated collecting culture that helps to account for the seemingly magical profusion of Māori art in New Zealand museums.

Gottfried Lindauer, _Wikitoria Taitoko Keepa_ , 1897, oil on canvas, 665 × 540 mm, in a carved frame of Whanganui origin. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH BY LES MAIDEN, IMAGE SERVICES, VICTORIA UNIVERSITY OF WELLINGTON, REPRODUCED BY PERMISSION OF THE WIKITŌRIA KEEPA METE KINGI WHĀNAU TRUST

## _Conclusion_

VISITORS TO THE EXHIBITION _Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori-Portraits_ , shown at Berlin's Alte Nationalgalerie over the winter of 2014–15, saw gilt-framed paintings drawn almost exclusively from the famous Partridge Collection at Auckland Art Gallery. _Wikitoria Taitoko Keepa_ (1897) hails from another world altogether, one in which she is viewed almost exclusively by her descendants. Lindauer's signature is inscribed in pencil on the reverse of the gilded slip, which in turn fits snugly within a specially carved frame, indicating that the frame was made specifically for this work. Depicting the rangatira attired in a sumptuous feather cloak and sporting the identical heitiki that appears eleven years later on her bust by Nelson Illingworth, Wikitōria's commissioned painting subverts the ethnological/ethnographic divide discussed in Chapter Three. It is a reminder that Lindauer's bicultural practice, a legacy that has largely been overlooked within Pākehā art history, was productive of works that at times assume quite different appearances – as well as functions – from those that are preserved in public galleries and museums.

A similar kind of reminder was delivered by the exhibition _Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_ , staged at Te Papa in 2012. Despite an opening text that announced the exhibition to be 'purely Māori', it was fascinating to discover that the exhibition contained an abundance of colonial-era imagery that included not only portrait paintings by Lindauer and Goldie but, arrayed behind the actual cloaks, large-scale modern prints of vintage photographs that showed people wearing cloaks. These photographs were uniformly presented in modern replicas of the dark-stained timber frames that, inspired by his viewing of Dutch Old Master paintings in European museums, Goldie had developed as his signature moulding. In a very natural fashion, the portraits enhanced the cloaks by showing why they had been made – for people to wear. This appropriative gesture on the part of Māori curators could be regarded as a reversal of the art gallery's penchant for inserting taonga within exhibitions of colonial art, except that I suspect the paintings and photographs were considered to _be_ Māori objects.

The in-between, hybrid world documented in this book stands apart from the literary 'Maoriland' discussed by Jane Stafford and Mark Williams. Their 2006 survey of a neglected field of literature was aimed at rescuing a corpus of writing that had largely been forgotten. By contrast, the pictorial output of the period remained relatively familiar insofar as a broad spectrum of New Zealanders – whether Māori or Pākehā – would instantly recognise a painting by Charles F. Goldie, a signature artist of Maoriland. Another significant difference between these fields is that, whereas Māori remained largely aloof from the literary culture of Maoriland, the visual culture of the period evidences their participation in a wide range of capacities – as subjects, patrons, dealers, collectors, artists and audiences. It is this investment, despite the inevitable distortions and racist preconceptions underlying much of the work, which enables the ethnological art tradition to serve Māori interests in the present day.

This book has shown how inextricably Māori objects and Māori images are linked within collecting and exhibiting practices in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Māori antiquities were central to the antiquarian culture that flourished in this period, which saw the rise of a literature that documented Māori art for its intrinsic importance. This in turn facilitated artistic visualisation of the ancient Māori world, and such images, together with 'old-time' portraits, assumed roles within evolutionary narratives that juxtaposed Māori Past with Colonial Present. The various modes in which taonga moved from Māori into Pākehā ownership reveal an exploitative trade that was closely connected to the central business of the period, namely the alienation of communally owned Māori land and its transfer into individual and preferably settler ownership. The direct consequence of this all-pervasive process was the severe impoverishment of Māori communities in the face of Pākehā settlement and agriculture, effectively producing parallel first-world and third-world economies within the same country.

The naturalisation of European portraiture within the Māori world began first with photographs, followed from the 1870s by the arrival of life-sized oil paintings that were deployed in various contexts, including funeral ceremonies. This book documents the close connection between the Native Land Court and Gottfried Lindauer's acquisition of a Māori clientele, as well as the machinations by which the collector Walter Buller acquired his famed collection. The Māori reception of Henry Partridge's Lindauer Art Gallery, so emphatically attested within the visitors' books, reveals a Māori understanding of the collection that sits outside standard notions of art or ethnography. Ethnological idealisations informed portrait production across the board, including the series of busts intended to immortalise Māori 'types' that was commissioned by Augustus Hamilton from the sculptor Nelson Illingworth. The most celebrated work in this genre was produced by Charles F. Goldie in the early years of the twentieth century, when the artist secured his status as the country's leading artist. While inspired by a similar ethnological obsession with vanishing 'types', Goldie's work went beyond straightforward portraiture into a nostalgic orientalism, his elderly models striking melancholic poses as they seemingly ruminated over the ruin of their culture. Such imagery was castigated as academic rubbish by a later modernist generation, but as highly realistic depictions of named individuals the paintings continued to command respect and pride within the Māori world.

The idealisations characteristic of the representations of a pre-European world can also be seen in the theatrical _tableaux_ presented at local festivals and the Christchurch International Exhibition of 1906–7. Scholarship about the exhibition has largely focused on Augustus Hamilton's rigid insistence that the carvers deploy 'traditional' styles, as well as on the extensive Māori participation within the model pā called Āraiteuru. Māori relished performing their culture, which gave them a foothold at these events while also reminding visitors that Māori were an integral component of modern New Zealand. The idea for the display originated with the head of the Tourist Department, Thomas Edward Donne, who had represented New Zealand at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition of 1904 where the United States mounted living exhibitions of subject peoples, including American Indians and Filipino villagers. In fact, Āraiteuru offered far more than mere entertainment; it was a living marae on to which important guests – including groups from other Pacific islands – were welcomed with appropriate protocol by their Māori hosts.

The discordant aspects of the curio economy are part of the challenge inherent in reclaiming Maoriland's art and collecting culture as a complex web of interests and conflicts. At the heart of the difficulty is the disjunction between the cultures of the coloniser and colonised, starkly revealed in tomb-raiding archaeology but in fact present at every level of social interaction. The satirical work published by Trevor Lloyd, while infected with a casual racism, can also be interpreted as signalling Māori strength. Certainly, Lloyd's satirical attacks on ethnological artists – and on Goldie in particular – suggests that such imagery was perceived as possessing power within a contemporary context. Lloyd's own collecting practices reveal the less-than-amusing context from which his satirical art emerged.

Despite becoming a cliché, Macaulay's New Zealander reveals how, at the height of its power, an empire contemplates its future eclipse. The direct ancestry of the image included a passage in Edward Gibbon's _Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ , written in the wake of Captain Cook's first voyage to the South Seas, in which he muses on the Picts who once roamed Strathclyde:

If, in the neighbourhood of the commercial and literary town of Glasgow, a race of cannibals has really existed, we may contemplate, in the period of Scottish history, the opposite extremes of savage and civilised life. Such reflections tend to enlarge the circle of our ideas; and to encourage the pleasing hope, that New Zealand may produce, in some future age, the Hume of the Southern Hemisphere.

The delectable notion of prehistoric British cannibals, provoked by gruesome archaeological discoveries, also entered evolutionary discussions in New Zealand. And whether or not the application was meaningful, Māori visitors to the metropolis were routinely hailed as the returning New Zealander. An ambiguously gendered King Tāwhiao, for example, was caricatured in _Funny Folks_ , falling with his paintbox from the pier of the bridge. Premier Seddon also insisted on regarding his chiefly Māori escorts in London as the realisation of the spectre.

Charles F. Goldie, _Ena Te Papatahi, a Chieftainess of the Ngapuhi Tribe_ , 1902, oil on canvas, 510 × 612 mm. PRIVATE COLLECTION; PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF GOW LANGSFORD GALLERY

Partridge's cycle of Lindauer portraits includes Kamariera Te Hautākiri Wharepapa and Paratene Te Manu, both of whom were participants in a celebrated Māori group visit to England in 1862. The group succeeded in meeting Queen Victoria, and James Cowan's translation of Paratene Te Manu's dictated autobiography places the chief's recollections of the metropolis as the climax of his life's adventures. In later life, Wharepapa joined Goldie's select stable of models, alongside other cosmopolitans such as Pātara Te Tuhi and Katerina Nikorima – Māori celebrities who helped cement the fame of New Zealand's rising art star. Wharepapa's personal agency in the endeavour is clear, for example, from the correspondence of 1907 in which he insisted that Goldie provide higher remuneration and a better class of accommodation for himself and his 'old lady'. Another document that Goldie pasted into a scrapbook is the postcard sent in 1904 to Īna Te Papatahi by Tarorehua Kaiwaka, explaining that Te Aho-o-te-rangi Wharepū had been forbidden by his tribe to come and sit for the artist. He writes 'Ki a Ina e tai hari atu tena reta ki to pakeha' ('Īna, take this letter to your Pākehā') – indicating that, from a Māori perspective, Goldie was a conquest of Īna's. Such transactions emphasise the status of these elderly Māori, not as representatives of the dying race, but as entrepreneurs who participated – on their own terms – in the art economy and culture of their time. Īna was fond of critiquing her representations by Goldie, and it is easy to imagine her expression of satisfaction while viewing the latest work placed into its dramatic, dark-stained timber frame.

The cultural productions of Maoriland are inextricably entangled in cultural colonisation, as theorised by Peter Gibbons, and not easily susceptible to 'decolonisation'. Invaluable bodies of captured mātauranga Māori (Māori knowledge) are firmly laced into the strait-jacket of colonial interpretation. Confronting this archive, a Māori scholar would necessarily deploy different interpretive strategies and conclusions from those presented in this book. But objects and images do not exist in some ethereal zone, aloof from the circumstances of their production and circulation. A colonial art history from any perspective must factor the realities of colonialism – subjugation, exploitation, uneven interests, competing cultural capital – into its historical frame. My argument is that the art of Maoriland deserves critical attention. It needs liberating as much from the shibboleths of postcolonial theory as it does from colonial art histories that, by overlooking the bicultural milieu that gave rise to the ethnological art tradition, fail to recognise it as New Zealand's most distinctive contribution to British colonial art.

## _Notes_

### **PREFACE**

 Wendy Harsant, 'The Maori Artefacts in the Sir George Grey Collection held on deposit in the Auckland Institute Museum', unpublished checklist, 1988 (E. H. McCormick Research Library, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki).

 Roger Blackley, 'Surviving Goldie', _Pre/dictions: The Role of Art at the End of the Millennium: Papers Presented at the Conference of the Art Association of Australia and New Zealand, Victoria University of Wellington, 2–5 December 1999_ , Wellington: Victoria University of Wellington Department of Art History, 1999, 136–41.

 The mauri took the form of oneone (soil) from the models' regions, to which was added oneone from each of the exhibition venues.

 This interpretation was applied to Charles F. Goldie's 'Ranfurly Portraits' – _The Widow_ and _Darby and Joan_ , depictions respectively of Hārata Rēwiri Tarapata and Īna Te Papatahi – in _Parade_ , the inaugural New Zealand art installation at Te Papa.

 For a discussion of the status of portraiture in New Zealand, see Roger Blackley, _A Nation's Portraits_ , Gordon H. Brown Lecture/Art History Lecture Series 3, Art History, Victoria University of Wellington, 2005.

 See the photograph by Mark Mitchell, 'Timing is everything in iwi share claims', _New Zealand Herald_ , 11 July 2012, B2.

### **INTRODUCTION**

 Grey's career summary as given in Keith Sinclair, 'Grey, George, 1812–1898', _Dictionary of New Zealand Biography_ , 1, 1990.

 _Address of Sir George Grey to the members of the New Zealand Society, as their first president, September 26, 1851_ , Wellington: R. Stokes, 1851, 11.

 Charles Barraud, _Baptism of the Maori Chief, Te Puni, in Otaki Church_ , 1853, oil on canvas, Rex Nan Kivell Collection, National Library of Australia. See June Starke, 'The Baptism of Te Puni', _Turnbull Library Record_ , NS3, 3, 1970, 137–43.

 William Ewart, _Portrait of John Hobbs (Hami Hone Ropiha)_ , 1862, oil on canvas, 850 × 598 mm, Auckland Art Gallery, presented by Sir George Grey, 1887. Daniel L. Mundy's photograph of the drawing room at Kawau shows Rōpiha's portrait hanging with Dutch and Italian paintings. They were part of the substantial collection of European Old Master paintings that Grey donated to the Auckland Art Gallery in 1887. _Thorne George, Mansion House, Kawau Island_ , 1870–71, albumen photograph, Photograph Album Collection no. 88, Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland City Libraries.

 George Grey, _Polynesian Mythology and Ancient Traditional History of the New Zealand Race as Furnished by their Chiefs and Priests_ , London: John Murray, 1854, v.

 Ibid., viii.

 'Inaugural Address of Governor Sir George Ferguson Bowen, G.C.M.G., to the New Zealand Institute', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 1, 1869, 8.

 _Evening Post_ , 7 August 1868, 2.

 Roger Blackley, 'The Exhibitions of Maori Art in Auckland, 1884–1885: Documents of the New Zealand Art Students Association', _Antic_ , 3, 1987, 116–22.

 Critical reception of a European _fine art_ exhibition might be construed as appropriate fodder for art history, while the Māori displays in adjacent rooms are ignored as irrelevant. Such was the case in a 1988 compilation, 'The New Zealand Exhibition 1865: Documents on the Fine Arts, selected and transcribed by R. D. J. Collins and Wendy-Anne Curtis', typescript, University of Otago, 1988.

 Michael P. J. Reilly, 'John White: The Making of a Nineteenth-Century Writer and Collector of Maori Traditions', _New Zealand Journal of History_ , 23, 2, 1989, 157–72; 'John White, Part II: Seeking the Elusive Mohio: White and his Maori Informants', _New Zealand Journal of History_ , 24, 1, 1990, 45–55.

 Jeffrey Paparoa Holman, _Best of Both Worlds: The Story of Elsdon Best and Tutakangahau_ , Auckland: Penguin, 2010, 147.

 Edward Tregear, _The Aryan Maori_ , Wellington: Government Printer, 1885. For an overview of the period's racial theorising, see James Belich, 'Myth, Race and Identity in New Zealand', _New Zealand Journal of History_ , 31, 1, 1997, 9–22.

 _Lyttelton Times_ , 17 September 1891, 4 (Buller scrapbook, p. 20).

 'The Old and the New', _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ , 1 October 1899, 11–12.

 Helen M. Hogan, _Bravo Neu Zeeland: Two Maori in Vienna 1859–1860_ , Christchurch: Clerestory Press, 2003.

 Roger Blackley, 'King Tāwhiao's Big O. E.', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 44, 2012, 36–52.

 _Star_ , 17 June 1901, 1.

 A. T. Ngata, _The Past and Future of the Maori_ , Christchurch: Christchurch Press Co., 1893.

 Ibid.

 Jane Stafford, 'Terminal Creeds and Native Authors', _Journal of New Zealand Literature_ , 24, 2, 2007, 157.

 'Maori Students', _Evening Post_ , 7 December 1892, 2.

 '"Ngata": Mr Clement Wragge's Prophecy', _Star_ , 14 June 1909, 3; 'Wragge's "Ngata" in Nelson', _Nelson Evening Mail_ , 14 June 1909, 2.

 The range and depth of his ethnological interests are evident in the extensive correspondence through which Ngata maintained his friendship with Peter Buck (Te Rangi Hīroa) after the latter moved overseas; see M. P. K. Sorrenson (ed.), _Na To Hoa Aroha, From Your Dear Friend: The Correspondence between Sir Apirana Ngata and Sir Peter Buck, 1925–50_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, vol. 1, 1986; vol. 2, 1987; vol. 3, 1988.

 'Writing and the Culture of Colonisation', in Tony Ballantyne, _Webs of Empire: Locating New Zealand's Colonial Past_ , Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2012.

 Ballantyne, _Webs of Empire_ , 229–30.

 Donna Awatere, _Maori Sovereignty_ , Auckland: Broadsheet, 1984; Ranginui Walker, _Ka Whawhai Tonu Matou: Struggle without End_ , Auckland: Penguin, 1990.

 Ballantyne, _Webs of Empire_ , 231. Peter Gibbons, '"Going Native": A Case Study of Cultural Appropriation in a Settler Society, With Particular Reference to the Activities of Johannes Andersen in New Zealand during the First Half of the Twentieth Century', DPhil thesis, History, University of Waikato, 1992. Gibbons wrote an important overview of 'Non-Fiction': Terry Sturm (ed.), _The Oxford History of New Zealand Literature in English_ , Auckland: Oxford University Press, 1991, 25–104. More recent essays by Gibbons have refined his arguments concerning cultural colonisation.

 Peter Gibbons, 'Cultural Colonization and National Identity', _New Zealand Journal of History_ , 36, 1, 2002, 13 (cited by Ballantyne, _Webs of Empire_ , 233).

 Ballantyne, _Webs of Empire_ , 233.

 Leonard Bell, _Colonial Constructs: European Images of Maori 1840–1914_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1992.

 Ibid., 7.

 Ibid., 258.

 Rangihiroa Panoho, _Māori Art: History, Architecture, Landscape and Theory_ , Auckland: David Bateman, 2015, 148. Ngahuia Te Awekotuku, 'Tā Moko: Māori Tattoo', in Roger Blackley, _Goldie_ , Auckland: Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki and David Bateman, 1997, 112: 'despite their gravely inappropriate titles and often highly disturbing arrangement or aspect, the portraits by Goldie are immensely important . . . . Despite being the graphic perception of a single white man, these portraits for just about every Māori person, and certainly for all of the descendants, resonate with an integrity, a sense of spirit, that draws tears and makes the heart ache.'

 Conal McCarthy, _Exhibiting Māori: A History of Colonial Cultures of Display_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2007. This book developed from a doctoral thesis titled 'From Curio to Taonga: A Genealogy of Display at New Zealand's National Museum, 1865–2001' (Victoria University of Wellington, 2004).

 McCarthy, _Exhibiting Māori_ , 57.

 Tim Barringer and Tom Flynn (eds), _Colonialism and the Object: Empire, Material Culture and the Museum_ , London and New York: Routledge, 1998; Annabel Cooper, Lachy Paterson and Angela Wanhalla (eds), _The Lives of Colonial Objects_ , Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2015. Institutional examples include Oliver Stead (ed.), _150 Treasures_ , Auckland: David Bateman and Auckland Museum, 2001; _Icons Ngā Taonga: From the Collections of the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2004; _Kai Tahu Taoka: Treasures from the Otago Museum_ , Auckland: Reed, 2007; Stuart Strachan and Linda Tyler (eds), _Kā Taoka Hākena: Treasures from the Hocken Collections_ , Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2007.

 Amiria J. M. Henare, _Museums, Anthropology and Imperial Exchange_ , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 3.

 Allan Hanson, 'The Making of the Maori: Culture Invention and its Logic', _American Anthropologist_ , 91, 1989, 890–901.

 Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (eds), _The Invention of Tradition_ , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.

 Ibid., 205.

 Paul Tapsell, _Ko Tawa: Maori Treasures of New Zealand_ , Auckland: David Bateman, 2006.

 Jane Stafford and Mark Williams, _Maoriland: New Zealand Literature 1872–1914_ , Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2006.

 Ibid., 14.

 Robert J. C. Young – doyen of postcolonial history and theory – concludes his book _Colonial Desire: Hybridity in Theory, Culture and Race_ (London and New York: Routledge, 1995) by voicing this very desire: 'The fantasy of postcolonial cultural theory, however, is that those in the Western academy at least have managed to free themselves from this hybrid commerce of colonialism, as from every other aspect of the colonial legacy.' Young, _Colonial Desire_ , 182.

 Nicholas Thomas, _Colonialism's Culture: Anthropology, Travel and Government_ , Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994, 27.

 Nicholas Thomas, _Possessions: Indigenous Art/Colonial Culture_ , London: Thames & Hudson, 1999, 9.

 Ibid., 18.

 Roger Neich, 'Jacob William Heberley of Wellington: A Maori Carver in a Changed World', _Records of the Auckland Institute and Museum_ , 28, 1991, 69–148. Reprinted in Chanel Clarke, Fuli Pereira and Nigel Prickett (eds), _Tradition and Change in Māori and Pacific Art: Essays by Roger Neich_ , Auckland: Auckland War Memorial Museum, 2013, 194–241.

 Heberley's patrons included Tamahau Mahupuku of Wairarapa, who commissioned traditional weapons executed in an ultra-modern celluloid medium. Haami Te Whaiti et al., _Te Marae o Rongotaketake: Redressing our Kahungunu History_ , Masterton: Aratoi | Wairarapa Museum of Art and History, 2017.

 For a discussion of the issues raised by trophy images such as Martin's, see Roger Blackley, 'Photography and the Ethnological Macabre', in Erika Wolf and Angela Wanhalla (eds), _Early New Zealand Photography: Images and Essays_ , Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2011, 78–85, 179.

 S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki: The Whence of the Maori, with a Sketch of Polynesian History_ , Wellington: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1898.

 'The Maori Antiquities Act, 1901', _Appendices to the Journal of the House of Representatives_ , 1902, G.8.

 Matthew Basso, 'Trevor Lloyd, Native Land, and the Contest over European Racial Imagination in New Zealand', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 37, 2004, 68–86.

 Despite deriving much of her commentary on these paintings from Blackley's _Goldie_ , Tate Britain curator Alison Smith makes only passing mention of the book in a footnote, without bothering to name its author. Alison Smith, David Blayney Brown and Carol Jacobi, _Artist and Empire: Facing Britain's Imperial Past_ , London: Tate Publishing, 2015, 244, footnote 78. Smith mistakenly believes that Goldie coined the pejorative term 'ethnograph' to refer to his own work.

 Thomas, _Possessions_ , 106.

### **1 CURIOS AND EXHIBITIONS**

 As decorative or rare objects, curios occupied a separate category from both archaeological objects and works of art. Nevertheless, they are embraced by the neologism 'semiophore' that was coined by historian Krzysztof Pomian to refer to meaningful as opposed to useful objects. Krzysztof Pomian, _Collectors and Curiosities: Paris and Venice, 1500–1800_ , Oxford: Polity Press, 1990, 26–34.

 'The Loan Exhibition', _Feilding Star_ , 19 February 1908, 2.

 'Sunday School Union Industrial Exhibition', _Otago Witness_ , 1 December 1898, 22.

 In effect, a reversal of Conal McCarthy's museological trajectory of 'curio' to 'taonga'. _Exhibiting Māori: A History of Colonial Cultures of Display_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2007, 1.

 Adrienne L. Kaeppler, _'Artificial Curiosities': An Exposition of Native Manufactures Collected on the Three Pacific Voyages of Captain James Cook, R.N_., Bernice P. Bishop Museum Special Publication 65, Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1978.

 _Official Catalogue of the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations, 1851_ , London: William Clowes & Sons, 1851, 182. While this lender is identified in the catalogue as 'Moore, P. G. 30 Arundel St. Strand', it is almost certainly Frederick George Moore who arrived at the New Zealand Company settlement of Wellington in February 1840. For an account of the New Zealand exhibits, see Ewan Johnston, '"A Valuable and Tolerably Extensive Collection of Native and Other Products": New Zealand at the Crystal Palace', in Jeffrey A. Auerbach and Peter H. Hoffenberg (eds), _Britain, the Empire, and the World at the Great Exhibition of 1851_ , Aldergate: Ashgate Publishing, 2008, 77–91.

 'Wellington Athenæum and Mechanics' Institute', _New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian_ , 7 May 1853, 3. 'Sir G. Grey's beautiful collection of native pœnamou [sic] and other weapons, carved boxes and clubs and tapa mats . . . kindly lent to the committee by Lady Grey.' This first Māori collection of Grey's was presented to the British Museum in the following year.

 'Fine Arts and Industrial Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 26 December 1873, 3. Kereopa Te Rau swallowed the eyes of the Rev. Carl Völkner, following his murder at Ōpōtiki on 2 March 1865.

 _Official Catalogue of the New Zealand Exhibition, 1865_ , Dunedin: Mills, Dick & Co., 1865, 17.

 'The New Zealand Exhibition', _Lyttelton Times_ , 14 February 1865, 1.

 _Official Catalogue of the New Zealand Exhibition, 1865_ , 15.

 'Meeting of the New Zealand Art Students' Association', _New Zealand Herald_ , 24 December 1883, 6.

 'New Zealand Art Students' Association', _New Zealand Herald_ , 17 July 1884, 3.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 20 October 1884, 4.

 Ibid.

 'The Art Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 22 October 1884, 6.

 'The Art Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 23 October 1884, 4.

 'New Zealand Art Students' Association', _New Zealand Herald_ , 17 February 1885, 5.

 'New Zealand Art Students' Association: Second Annual Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 22 October 1885, 6.

 'New Zealand Art Students' Association', _Auckland Star_ , 7 November 1885, 6.

 Ibid.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 26 October 1885, 5.

 'Art Students' Exhibition: Second Notice', 26 October 1885, 6.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 6 December 1886, 4.

 'N.Z. Art Students' Association Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 30 November 1886, 5.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 24 October 1885, 4.

 Alfred Sharpe, 'The Art Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 27 October 1885, 6.

 'Meeting of the New Zealand Art Students' Association', _New Zealand Herald_ , 24 December 1883, 6.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 30 October 1885, 5.

 'Obituary', _New Zealand Herald_ , 6 October 1890, 9.

 Ibid.

 R. C. Barstow, 'The Chaldaic Account of the Deluge', _New Zealand Herald_ , 5 July 1879, 5; 'Egyptian Lights upon the Exodus of Israel', _New Zealand Herald_ , 3 September 1880, 6; 'The Maori Canoe', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 11, 1879, 71–76.

 'The Colonial and Indian Exhibition: New Zealand', _The Times_ , 24 July 1886, 4.

 Ibid.

 'Passing Notes', _Otago Witness_ , 2 January 1886, 17. Extant Woodburytypes of two of Buller's most spectacular exhibits, the pātaka Te Takinga and the carved sarcophagus of Waata Taranui, may relate to the unrealised ethnological publication.

 'Exhibition Chat', _Star_ , 13 August 1886, 3. The article is subtitled 'The Buller Collection: Getting One's Own Way'.

 Ibid.

 'The Indo-Colonial Exhibition: A New Zealander's Opinion', _Star_ , 19 July 1886, 3.

 'Local and General', _Wanganui Chronicle_ , 8 July 1886, 2.

 Genevieve Silvester, 'Lifting the Shadows from Gottfried Lindauer's "Maori Girl with Poi"', _Journal of New Zealand Art History_ , 32, 2001, 52–61.

 _New Zealand Free Lance_ , 11 June 1910, 4.

 _Hawke's Bay Herald_ , 29 July 1886, 2, quoting a private letter asserting that Buller's wildly over-scaled labels initially measured 4 by 2 feet apiece, meaning 'the cards were as prominent as the articles'.

 During his later residence in England, Buller ensured that his entry in _Who's Who_ omitted any reference to his colonial birth and education. Ross Galbreath, _Walter Buller: The Reluctant Conservationist_ , Wellington: GP Books, 1989, 259.

 'Mixed Pickles', _Observer_ , 30 April 1887, 9.

 For disgust over the 'literally "skied" pictures', see 'The Indian and Colonial Exhibition: The Prince of Wales' Official Visit', _New Zealand Herald_ , 23 June 1886, 6. For a more positive appraisal of the Albert Hall as a venue in which comparative evaluations might be made of the paintings from Canada, Malta, India and New Zealand, see 'The Indian and Colonial Exhibition', _Otago Daily Times_ , 19 July 1886, 3.

 J. A. Blaikie, 'Art in New Zealand', _Magazine of Art_ , 1887, 34.

 'The Colonial and Indian Exhibition: New Zealand', _The Times_ , 24 July 1886, 4.

 'Sir George Grey supplies a space of some 200 square feet of table and wall with native curiosities, among which are several antique specimens, and some which belong to history, as the signs of subjection by important chiefs, presented to Sir George as the representative of majesty.' 'The New Zealand Exhibition', _Lyttelton Times_ , 14 February 1865, 1.

 T. M. Hocken, Scrapbook relating to the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, MS-0451/038, 287–312, Hocken Collections Uare Taoka o Hākena, Dunedin.

 _New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, Dunedin 1889–90, Official Catalogue of the Exhibits_ , Dunedin: G. R. Smith, 1889, 231.

 'The Early History, Maori, and South Seas Court: I', _Otago Witness_ , 5 December 1889, 17.

 Ibid.

 'The Early History, Maori, and South Seas Court: II', _Otago Witness_ , 12 December 1889, 18.

 'Grey – Ballance – Locke: Taiahas and Aukatis', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 31 May 1886, 2.

 Ibid.

 Whanganui Regional Museum Collection; Alexa Johnston and Ian Wedde, _Dream Collectors: One Hundred Years of Art in New Zealand_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 1998, 44–45.

 Hocken to Mair, 28 March 1890, Letterbook of the Early History, Maori and South Seas Committee, MS-103, 86–89, Hocken Collections Uare Taoka o Hākena, Dunedin.

 For the confused history of these carvings, which were misidentified by David Simmons as coming from a house called Tumoana-Kotore that stood at Hicks Bay, see Dimitri Anson, 'What's in a Name? The House Carvings that Dr Hocken Gave to the Otago Museum', _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ , 113, 1, 2004, 73–90.

 Augustus Hamilton, _Maori Art_ , Wellington: New Zealand Institute, 1901, 324.

 Chris Healy, 'History and Paper', in _From the Ruins of Colonialism: History as Social Memory_ , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997, 90.

 'Local and General', _Otago Witness_ , 1 May 1890, 1.

 Album 43, 1, P1910-007-0001a, Hocken Collections, Uare Taoka o Hākena, Dunedin.

 Roger Blackley, 'Photography and the Ethnological Macabre', in Erika Wolf and Angela Wanhalla (eds), _Early New Zealand Photography: Images and Essays_ , Otago University Press, 2011, 78–85, 179.

 'All Sorts of People', _Free Lance_ , 27 February 1904, 3.

 Josiah Martin, 'Prehistoric Weapons', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 18, 1886, 420.

 _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 10 January 1893, 2.

### **2 MĀORI PREHISTORY**

 _Address of Sir George Grey to the members of the New Zealand Society, as their first president, September 26, 1851_ , Wellington: R. Stokes, 1851, 11.

 While evidence of human tools mixed with extinct fossils was exhumed as early as 1797, the breakthrough came in the 1850s with the discovery of prehistoric Swiss lake dwellings and especially the 1858 opening of the Brixham Cave, where carefully supervised excavations found human artefacts _in situ_ with extinct animals. George W. Stocking, _Victorian Anthropology_ , New York: The Free Press, 1987, 73–74.

 'Maori Carvings: Ethnological Curiosities', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 7 December 1900, supplement, 12.

 'Local and General', _Wanganui Herald_ , 24 June 1904, 4.

 'Amusements', _Star_ , 3 June 1909, 1.

 'Local and General', _Otago Witness_ , 24 November 1909, 31.

 'Sermons in Stones', _Evening Post_ , 7 March 1910, 7.

 Ibid.

 'Interesting Discovery: An Ancient City or Temple', _Colonist_ , 8 March 1910, 4.

 Alexander McKay, 'Correspondence: Mr. Wragge's Discoveries', _Evening Post_ , 8 April 1910, 2.

 Henry M. Stowell, 'The Stones of Kupe: Mr. Wragge's Professed Discoveries', _Evening Post_ , 16 April 1910, 14.

 'Sermons in Stones'. See also 'Curious Rocks: A Scientist's Investigation: No Suggestion of Fire Worship', _Dominion_ , 4 April 1910, 8.

 'Prehistoric Period: Remarkable Drain Excavations', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 18 May 1910, 2.

 Henry M. Stowell, 'Old Drains in the North', _Evening Post_ , 4 June 1910, 3.

 Ibid.

 'Before the Maoris', _Colonist_ , 18 April 1910, 4.

 Jessie Mackay, 'The Great Moa Controversy', _Otago Witness_ , 6 April 1904, 70. For the emphatic twentieth-century triumph of the 'modernists', see Thomas Lindsay Buick, _The Moa-Hunters of New Zealand: Sportsmen of the Stone Age_ , New Plymouth: Thomas Avery & Sons, 1937.

 Julius von Haast, 'Moas and Moa Hunters: Address to the Philosophical Institute of Canterbury', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 4, 1872, 66–107.

 Ibid., 68.

 Ibid., 106.

 Ibid., 107.

 Alexander McKay, 'On the Identity of the Moa-Hunters with the Present Maori Race', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 7, 1875, 98–105.

 There is a vast literature on this disagreement: Thomas Lindsay Buick, _The Moa-Hunters of New Zealand: Sportsmen of the Stone Age_ , New Plymouth: Thomas Avery & Sons, 1937; Francis Reid, 'The Sumner Cave Controversy Reconsidered: Provincialism, Identity and "Colonial" Science', _New Zealand Journal of History_ , 43, 1, 2009, 18–38.

 Julius von Haast, 'Researches and Excavations carried on in and near the Moa-bone Point Cave, Sumner Road, in the Year 1872', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 7, 1875, 54–85.

 Ibid., 67.

 Ibid., 68.

 H. F. von Haast, _The Life and Times of Sir Julius von Haast_ , Wellington: The Author, 1948, 741. The fate of the body unearthed in the cave is highlighted in Elaine Marguerite Cooper, 'Julius Haast, the Canterbury Museum, and Māori', MA thesis, Māori Studies, Massey University, 2011, 59–61.

 'Address', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 10, 1877, 44–56.

 Ibid., 44.

 Ibid.

 Julius von Haast, 'Notes on Some Ancient Rock Paintings in New Zealand', _Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland_ , 8, 1879, 50–65.

 'Address by the Hon. W. B. Mantell on the "Moa"', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 1, 1869, 18–20.

 Ibid., _Takiroa Caves, Looking N to Punaamokatore across the rise_.

 Haast, 'Notes on Some Ancient Rock Paintings in New Zealand', 52.

 Ibid., 54. The Tamil Bell was profiled by J. T. Thomson, 'Ethnographical Considerations on the Whence of the Maori', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 4, 1871, 23–48.

 Haast, 'Notes on Some Ancient Rock Paintings in New Zealand', 54.

 Ibid.

 Ibid., 52.

 Ibid., 58. Haast's connoisseurship is hardly strengthened by his passing observation of how he had often noted such drawings but considered them the rude work of shepherds.

 This is speculative, as the work by Cousins in the Maori Court is listed with two _watercolours_ by the artist shown at the Albert Hall. _Colonial and Indian Exhibition: Catalogue of New Zealand Exhibits_ , London: William Clowes & Sons, 1886, 7.

 For a history of this house and its carvings, see Ngarino Ellis, _A Whakapapa of Tradition: 100 Years of Ngāti Porou Carving, 1830–1930_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2016, 214–29.

 James W. Stack, 'An Account of the Maori House, Attached to the Christchurch Museum', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 8, 1876, 172–76.

 'The Governor's Visit', _Star_ , 8 June 1877, 2.

 Ibid.

 Reid, 'The Sumner Cave Controversy Reconsidered', 18.

 Professional contacts must have included the likes of Rev. Mutu, who in 1883 presented the museum with objects 'illustrating their former and present modes of life' from a display created by 'the Maoris of Canterbury and Westland' for the International Exhibition staged at Christchurch in 1882. 'Canterbury Museum', _Star_ , 16 July 1883, 4.

 'The head arrived early in 1873. But Haast found that, although he had it in the Museum in a glass case, he soon had – out of consideration for Maori susceptibilities – to envelop the case with a cover, and only furtively exhibit the head from time to time to those interested. To his children, this was always one of the most mysterious and terrifying exhibits in the Museum.' Von Haast, _The Life and Times of Sir Julius von Haast_ , 633.

 'Anniversary Address', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 12, 1880, 433–38.

 Patrick Brantlinger, _Dark Vanishings: Discourse on the Extinction of Primitive Races_ , Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2003, 3–4.

 A. K. Newman, 'A Study of the Causes leading to the Extinction of the Maori', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 14, 1882, 459–77.

 John Stenhouse, '"A disappearing race before we came here": Doctor Alfred Kingcome Newman, the Dying Maori, and Victorian Scientific Racism', _New Zealand Journal of History_ , 30, 2, 1996, 124–40.

 'The collection is one of the most valuable among the private collections in the Dominion, and was started by Dr. Newman some 40 years ago.' 'Maori Antiquities: Wanganui Museum Gift', _New Zealand Herald_ , 16 June 1933, 12. As a Wellington commissioner for the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition of 1889–90, Newman visited Dunedin and was presumably familiar with Hocken's Maori Court – the most spectacular Māori art exhibition staged to date.

 A. K. Newman, 'Notes on Two Maori Calabashes, with Carved Wooden Necks called _Tuki_ or _Ko-ano-ano_ ', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 36, 1904, 1.

 Ibid., 2. The rangatira was presumably Te Heuheu Tūkino, paramount chief of Ngāti Tūwharetoa.

 Ibid.

 A. K. Newman, 'On Maori Dredges ( _Roukakahi_ and _Hao_ )', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 37, 1905, 138–44.

 Ibid., 139.

 Ibid.

 Ibid., 138.

 A. K. Newman, 'On a Stone-carved Ancient Wooden Image of a Maori Eel-god', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 38, 1906, 130–31.

 Ibid., 133.

 Ibid., 134.

 A. K. Newman, 'On the Musical Notes and Other Features of the Long Maori Trumpet', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 38, 1906, 134.

 Ibid.

 Ibid., 135.

 Ibid., 137–38.

 Alfred K. Newman, _Who Are the Maoris?_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1912.

 Ibid., 14 (emphasis added).

 'Who are the Maoris?', _Auckland Star_ , 19 April 1913, 14.

 John Barnicoat Wall, only son of Whanganui citizens Dr A. H. E. Wall and Mrs Wall, was killed on Mount Ruapehu in May 1933; his parents donated Newman's collection in his memory. Michelle Horwood and Che Wilson, _Te Ara Tapu, Sacred Journeys: Whanganui Regional Museum Taonga Māori Collection_ , Auckland: Random House and Whanganui Regional Museum, 2008, 16.

 Leonard Bell, 'Late Nineteenth-/Early Twentieth-Century Historical Paintings', _Colonial Constructs: European Images of Maori 1840–1914_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1992, 147–94.

 E. A. Mackechnie, 'Suggestions to Artists', _Evening Star_ , 13 October 1885, 4.

 'Sophia the Guide: Family History', _Bruce Herald_ , 15 January 1912, 1.

 'Auckland Weekly News Special 'Xmas Number', _New Zealand Herald_ , 10 October 1898, 6.

 'Review', _Thames Star_ , 12 October 1900, 4.

 Formerly titled _Maori Girl in a Hut before the Tattooed Head of a Chief_ , the painting's current title is inscribed in pencil on the reverse of the canvas. The 1888 Auckland Society of Arts' catalogue provided a misspelt variant, _A Maori Legend from 'Te Rau'_.

 'Auckland Society of Arts Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 12 April 1888, 11.

 Bell, _Colonial Constructs_ , 157.

 When Steele auctioned his personal collection in mid-1917, it was reported that 'a number of curios were purchased by the Auckland Museum' ('Sale of Art Collection', _New Zealand Herald_ , 17 August 1917, 6). These comprised two canoe paddles, a mallet for carving, a tōtara-bark basket, and a woven eel-trap (personal communication from Chanel Clarke, Curator Māori, Auckland War Memorial Museum, 22 December 2014). The extensive nature of his Māori holdings is revealed by the full listing of the sale; see _Catalogue of Sale: The Whole of the Valuable Collection, Pictures, Works of Art, Maori and Island Curios, etc, the Property of L. J. Steele, Esq., Artist_ , Auckland: Richard Arthur & Co., 1917.

 'Auckland Weekly News, Christmas Number', _New Zealand Herald_ , 25 December 1890. The incident referred to in the title involved Māori being fired on and wounded by Cook and his crew. Cook is explaining the difference between bullets used to kill men, and the small shot used to kill birds. The European sailors used the small shot to protect themselves without causing the loss of life that had marked earlier encounters with Māori.

 'The Social World', _Observer_ , 31 August 1889, 13.

 'Academy of Art: The Conversazione', _Auckland Star_ , 29 April 1890, 8.

 A Lover of Art, 'Art in Auckland: A New Era', _New Zealand Herald_ , 3 May 1890, 3.

 Ibid.

 'Auckland Academy of Arts', _New Zealand Herald_ , 12 December 1891, 5.

 'Auckland', _Otago Daily Times_ , 17 December 1892, 5.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 29 December 1892, 4.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 30 December 1892, 4.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 31 March 1893, 4.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 13 July 1893, 4.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 8 July 1893, 4; 'Local and General', _Wanganui Chronicle_ , 14 October 1893, 2.

 On starting 'the large cartoon': _New Zealand Herald_ , 13 July 1893, 4. For the Christmas picture rumour: 'Auckland Gossip', _Northern Advocate_ , 5 August 1893, 5.

 Bell, _Colonial Constructs_ , 160; for Davidson-Ladd's view, see Jess McAllen, 'Headstone for Artist – Finally', _Central Leader_ , 8 April 2015, 8: 'Three of his paintings are lost, including one of the scene at the Treaty of Waitangi for which he interviewed people who were at the signing to get a clear idea of what they were wearing.'

 'Sale of Art Treasures', _Auckland Star_ , 16 August 1917, 2.

 'Auckland Society of Arts: First Notice', _Auckland Star_ , 2 March 1894, 3.

 'Society of Arts Exhibition: Opening Conversazione', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 March 1894, 6.

 'Auckland Society of Arts Exhibition', _Auckland Star_ , 9 November 1899, 2.

 See Roger Blackley, _Goldie_ , Auckland: Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki and David Bateman, 1997, 13–14, for the views of Olive Goldie and Charles Henry Gunn, one of the Academy's young students.

 Bell, _Colonial Constructs_ , 166. See also Bell's earlier essay, 'Life and Death at Sea: L. J. Steele and C. F. Goldie's _The Arrival of the Maori in New Zealand_ 1898', _Bulletin of New Zealand Art History_ , 3, 1975, 2–8.

 D. R. Simmons, 'C. F. Goldie – Maori Portraits', _AGMANZ News_ , 5, 2, 1974, 38.

 'Literature and Art: Nature in New Zealand', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 3 July 1902, 10.

 George Graham, 'Maori Customs: Faults in Historical Pictures', _Auckland Star_ , 3 August 1934, 6.

 _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1904, 19.

 Bell, _Colonial Constructs_ , 177.

 'It is not altogether a "nice" subject, but in its compact limits, so reminiscent of the inimitable Frenchman, it concentrates dramatic force and pathos.' 'The Art Exhibition', _Auckland Star_ , 20 May 1909, 7.

 'Auckland Academy of Arts', _New Zealand Herald_ , 12 December 1891, 5.

 'Tawhiao's Tangi: Reception of Europeans', _New Zealand Herald_ , 25 September 1894, 6.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 13 July 1893, 4. Ngāti Kahungunu had recently hosted a pan-tribal meeting in Hawke's Bay to discuss the dishonoured status of the Treaty.

### **3 PORTRAIT GALLERIES**

 The following discussion of Hamilton and Illingworth draws and expands on Roger Blackley, _Te Mata: The Ethnological Portrait_ , Wellington: Adam Art Gallery and Victoria University Press, 2008.

 _Evening Post_ , 12 August 1909, 8. Ngata first proposed the establishment of a Chair of Polynesian Ethnology when lecturing on 'Maoris and Civilisation' at Canterbury College in 1908: 'A Chair of Polynesian Ethnology: Suggestion by Mr. Ngata, M.P.', _Evening Post_ , 1 August 1908, 2. According to Ngata, '[t]he study of the classics – Latin and Greek – was popular in the colleges, but it would be more interesting if the students from matriculation to the B.A. degree were allowed to specialise in Maori'.

 'The Maori of Olden Time: Lecture by Mr. A. Hamilton', _Evening Post_ , 13 August 1909, 2.

 Ibid.

 'Native: Old and New', _Evening Post_ , 20 August 1909, 2; 'The Maori and Ethnology: Lecture by Mr. A. Hamilton', _Evening Post_ , 27 August 1909, 2.

 Ibid.

 See George W. Stocking, _Victorian Anthropology_ , New York: The Free Press, 1987, 262–69. The first academic position was the University of Otago's appointment of H. D. Skinner in 1919, whose lecture series that year was believed to be the first university course in ethnology ever offered in Australasia. 'University Extension Lectures: Introduction to the Science of Anthropology', _Otago Daily Times_ , 5 April 1919, 5.

 S. Percy Smith, cited by K. R. Howe, _Singer in a Songless Land: A Life of Edward Tregear_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1991, 96.

 'A Chair of Polynesian Ethnology: Suggestion by Mr. Ngata, M.P.', _Evening Post_ , 1 August 1908, 2.

 'To Fuse? Pakeha and Maori: Ideals of the Young Maori Party', _Evening Post_ , 13 July 1909, 6. While beyond the scope of this book, Ngata's establishment in the 1920s of the Board of Maori Ethnological Research was intended to exert a degree of Māori control over the funding of ethnological research and publication. See Conal McCarthy, '"Empirical anthropologists advocating cultural adjustments": The Anthropological Governance of Āpirana Ngata and the Native Affairs Department', _History and Anthropology_ , 25, 2, 2014, 280–95.

 Editorial, _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ , 1, 1, 1892, 3.

 A. T. Ngata MA, 'Notes on the Rev. H. W. Williams' Paper on "The Maori Whare"', _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ , 6, 2, 1897, 85–88.

 Augustus Hamilton, 'Hand-list of certain Papers relating more or less directly to the Maori race, and published in various Publications', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 33, 1901, 515–37. The first 1896 instalment of Hamilton's epic work was titled _The Art Workmanship of the Maori Race_ , published by the New Zealand Institute, which was amended to _Maori Art_ for the four subsequent instalments. _Maori Art_ appeared as a single volume in 1901.

 'The Maori Antiquities Act, 1901', _Appendices to the Journal of the House of Representatives_ , 1902, G.8.

 Ibid. The use of the first person suggests that the section titled 'Suggestions for the Requirements of a Maori Museum' was authored by Hamilton alone.

 Ibid.

 'Another little point, but one that I think would be appreciated, is to have the descriptive labels in Maori and English.' 'Otago Institute: Presidential Address', _Otago Witness_ , 27 May 1903, 55.

 Augustus Hamilton, _Notes for the information of the Members of both Houses of Parliament, in the matter of the National Maori Museum_ , Dunedin [1901], in Augustus Hamilton Papers, MS 131, box 6, vol. 1, folder 4, item 10, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library.

 James Carroll to Augustus Hamilton, 30 October 1901, Augustus Hamilton Papers, MS 131, box 6, vol. 11, folder 3, item 8, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library.

 'Extracts from a Letter from Tamahau Mahupuku to the Hon. Mr. Carroll, presenting Carved House', _Appendices to the Journal of the House of Representatives_ , 1902, G.8.

 Handwritten 'private' letter from Hamilton to Goldie, 30 January 1906, asking Goldie to hurry up with the 'list of pictures & proposed terms for originals & copies'. C. F. Goldie, Scrapbooks and Other Papers, MS 438, Scrapbook XIII, 29, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library.

 Goldie to Hamilton, 20 February 1906, Hamilton–Goldie correspondence, 1906/1910, Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa; Leonard Bell, _Colonial Constructs: European Images of Maori 1840–1914_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1992, 196.

 For Dittmer's work at the museum, and Hamilton's ambivalent response to it, see Bell, _Colonial Constructs_ , Chapter Six.

 'All Sorts of People', _New Zealand Free Lance_ , 9 February 1907, 3.

 'Wellington's Art Future: A Visitor's Views: Sculpture and the Maori', _New Zealand Times_ , 8 September 1906, 3.

 'The Maori in Bronze; A Sculptor's Trials; The Unappreciative Maori', _New Zealand Herald_ , 19 March 1908, 6.

 Nelson Illingworth, _Love Letters of an Artist_ , Sydney: privately printed, c. 1908, 99 (unique copy, Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales).

 'The Maori in Bronze; A Sculptor's Trials'.

 _Dominion_ , 10 April 1908, 6.

 'The Maori in Bronze; A Sculptor's Trials'.

 _Star_ , 27 June 1908, 4.

 Conal McCarthy records that Ngāti Kahungunu honoured Hamilton by bestowing on him the name Tūpai-whakarongo-wānanga. Conal McCarthy, _Exhibiting Māori: A History of Colonial Cultures of Display_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2007, 55.

 'A Notable Work: Mr Illingworth's "Tupai"', _New Zealand Times_ , c. November 1909, Illingworth Family Papers, Scrapbook, private collection, Sydney.

 Ibid.

 Michael Dunn, _New Zealand Sculpture: A History_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2002, 38–39.

 Nelson Illingworth to the Director of the National Art Gallery, 23 January 1913, Archives, Art Gallery of New South Wales. Note the plural in 'best obtainable models'. Just as the Greek painter Zeuxus reputedly employed five models for his portrait of Helen of Troy, _Tupai_ may be a similarly syncretic creation.

 Undated, unidentified newspaper clipping, Eugene Illingworth Papers, private collection, Auckland.

 _Otago Witness_ , 10 February 1909, 29.

 Ibid.

 A cast of the final bust stood as an ancestor in the Pōmare taonga room (personal communication, Miria Pomare).

 'Notable Native Memorial to a Wairarapa Chief', _Dominion_ , 3 February 1911, 6.

 Ibid.

 'A New Venture', _Evening Post_ , 24 October 1911, 3.

 '"Not Understood": Pakeha and Maori', _Evening Post_ , 1 April 1911, 9.

 Ibid.

 'The Papawai Pah: A Visitor's Impressions', _Wairarapa Age_ , 5 March 1920, 5.

 Catherine Morrison, _Nga Maharatanga o Wairarapa: The Past Around Us_ , Masterton: Masterton District Library, 1991, 170–72.

 Gottfried Lindauer, Notebook, MSX-3092, E. M. Lindauer Papers, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. Lindauer's actual income from Māori portraits was much higher still, since these figures do not include revenue from art union sales. In 1900, Lindauer estimated that one subject alone – 'the Maori woman with a pickanini [sic] over her shoulder' – had earned him £500 worth of commissions. 'All Sorts of People', _New Zealand Free Lance_ , 29 December 1900, 3.

 This section draws on Roger Blackley, 'Gottfried Lindauer: A Career in New Zealand', in Udo Kittelmann and Britta Schultz (eds), _Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori-Portraits_ , Cologne: Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2014, 213–17.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 20 May 1876, 2.

 _Daily Southern Cross_ , 28 April 1876, 2.

 [V. W. Lindauer], 'The Late Mr. Lindauer', _Woodville Examiner_ , 18 June 1926, 2.

 Victor Wilhelm Lindauer, 'How Papa Painted His First Maori Portrait', MS-Papers-4369, E. M. Lindauer Papers, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington.

 The direct source for the portrait is a photograph by Samuel Carnell.

 Annette Tietenberg, 'Gottfried Lindauer's "Veracious Pictures": On Transfers between Media and Patterns of Repetition', in Kittelmann and Schultz (eds), _Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori-Portraits_ , 219.

 From a Pākehā perspective, the 'exoticism' of these portraits resides in the collision between the formal wardrobe and demeanour and the traditionally chiselled moko on their faces.

 'The late Paora Tuhaere', _New Zealand Herald_ , 15 March 1892, 6.

 The ethnographic/ethnological dichotomy is further explored in Roger Blackley, 'Taku Āhua i te Rākau Koura: Gottfried Lindauer's Māori Portrait Commissions', in Conal McCarthy and Mark Stocker (eds), _From Colonial Gothic to Māori Renaissance: Essays in Memory of Jonathan Mane-Wheoki_ , Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2017, 189–203, 297–98.

 'Maori Portrait Gallery: The Lindauer Collection', _Auckland Star_ , 2 September 1901, 3.

 'The Native Gathering at Cambridge: Mr. Lindauer's Portraits', _New Zealand Herald_ , 29 January 1883, 6.

 'Local and General', _Wanganui Chronicle_ , 22 December 1894, 2, quoting from a _New Zealand Times_ review of the painting at the New Zealand Academy of Fine Arts in September 1894.

 This section draws on Roger Blackley, 'Te Pai o Ngā Āhua: The Visitors' Books at the Lindauer Art Gallery', in Annabel Cooper, Lachy Paterson and Angela Wanhalla (eds), _The Lives of Colonial Objects_ , Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2015, 210–15. This essay is in turn an expanded version of 'The Visitors' Books at the Lindauer Art Gallery', <http://www.lindaueronline.co.nz/background/the-visitors'-books-at-the-lindauer-art-gallery>.

 'The Social Sphere', _Observer_ , 15 June 1901, 16.

 _Pictures of Old New Zealand: The Partridge Collection of Maori Paintings by Gottfried Lindauer, described by James Cowan_ , Auckland: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1930. Documenting the entire collection of 62 portraits and eight large scenes of Māori life, this opulent publication builds on an earlier, more modest, gallery guidebook, _Maori Biographies: Sketches of Old New Zealand, Compiled by James Cowan; Descriptive Catalogue of Maori Portraits painted by Herr G. Lindauer_ , Auckland, 1901.

 As translated by Cowan, _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ , 204.

 _Auckland Star_ , 30 August 1901, 4.

 For King Mahuta's inscription in the visitors' book, which follows immediately after that made by Pātara Te Tuhi, see <http://www.lindaueronline.co.nz/visitors-book/pages-015-016>.

 For a discussion of Cowan's sources, see Roger Blackley, 'The Plutarch of Maoriland: James Cowan and _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ ', in Annabel Cooper and Ariana Tikao (eds), _James Cowan and the Legacies of Late Colonial Culture in New Zealand_ , special issue of the _Journal of New Zealand Studies_ , NS19, 2015, 111–23.

 The following paragraphs draw from Roger Blackley, 'Working with Goldie', _Off the Wall_ , 1, March 2013, <https://web.archive.org/web/20130515081217>/http:/arts.tepapa.govt.nz/off-the-wall/4166/working-with-goldie.

 Michael Dunn, _A Concise History of New Zealand Painting_ , Sydney: Craftsman House, 1991, 33. When reprinted in 1993, the dismissive 'rest home Maoris' was smoothed into 'elderly Maoris'.

 The hōkioi, or Haast's eagle, was the gigantic bird that met extinction together with the moa on which it fed. Pātara's compositor on _Te Hokioi_ was his brother, Hōnana Maioha: 'Maoris of Note in Town: Patara Te Tuhi', _Auckland Star_ , 11 February 1889, 2.

 Roger Blackley, 'King Tāwhiao's Big O. E.', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 44, 2012, 36–52. Michael Belgrave, _Dancing with the King: The Rise and Fall of the King Country_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2017, 294–338.

 James Cowan, 'Patara, the Scribe: Cannibal and Editor', _Star_ , 18 February 1902, 4.

 Alister Taylor and Jan Glen cite an undated letter from Pātara to Goldie in which he agrees to sit for eight shillings per day: _C. F. Goldie: His Life and Painting_ , Martinborough: Alister Taylor, 1977, 22. The letter now appears to be missing from Goldie's Scrapbooks in the Auckland War Memorial Museum Library.

 Roger Blackley, _Goldie_ , Auckland: Auckland: Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki and David Bateman, 1997, 19.

 'Table Talk', _Auckland Star_ , 5 November 1900, 1. The house is illustrated in W. J. Phillipps, _Carved Maori Houses of Western and Northern Areas of New Zealand_ , Wellington: Government Printer, 1955, 236.

 'Table Talk', _Auckland Star_ , 27 June 1896, 1; _Auckland Star_ , 14 February 1898, 4; 'The Exhibition: Eleventh Notice', _Auckland Star_ , 15 December 1898, 3.

 'He was probably the most-painted Maori in New Zealand, and the old chief's tattooed face has been made familiar by Mr C. F. Goldie's brush to thousands of pakehas who have never heard anything about the man himself.' 'A Notable Maori', _Hawera & Normanby Star_, 6 July 1910, 8.

 'Big Tangi at Waahi', _Dominion_ , 11 July 1910, 11.

 Richard Arnold Singer, 'Mr. C. F. Goldie and His Pictures', _Triad_ , 11, 9, December 1903, 11.

 Ibid.

 Ibid., p. 12.

 K. R. Howe, _The Quest for Origins: Who first Discovered and Settled New Zealand and the Pacific Islands?_ , Auckland: Penguin Books, 2003, 38. Howe awards the prize for the 'most bizarre' account of Polynesian origins to former Native Land Court judge F. D. Fenton, who in _Suggestions for a History of the Origin and Migrations of the Maori People_ (Auckland: H. Brett, 1885) claimed that Polynesians 'walked with Abraham' (ibid., 46). Goldie was probably influenced by Charles E. Nelson, who thought that Māori were closely related to the Cushites and Phoenicians (see Chapter Five).

 'Ki a Ina kei Waipapa', Tarorehua Kaiwaka to Īna Te Papatahi, 15 March 1904, C. F. Goldie, Scrapbooks and Other Papers, MS 438, Scrapbook XIII, 182, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library.

 'Society of Arts', _Auckland Star_ , 19 July 1905, 2.

 'Otago Art Society: The Oil Paintings', _Otago Daily Times_ , 24 November 1909, 2.

 'Art Exhibition: A Valuable Collection', _Evening Post_ , 27 September 1909, 5.

 'The "Graphic" Readers' Own Page: Competitions for our Readers', _Weekly Graphic and New Zealand Mail_ , 20 May 1908, 43. The prize was a year's subscription to the _Graphic_.

 'The "Graphic" Readers' Own Page: Competitions for our Readers', _Weekly Graphic and New Zealand Mail_ , 3 June 1908, 43.

 'Purchase of Pictures', _Auckland Star_ , 20 May 1908, 3.

 W. D. Goldie, 'The Destiny of the Maori Race', _New Zealand Herald_ , 18 May 1901, supplement, 1.

 'The Destiny of the Maori', _Hawera & Normanby Star_, 17 July 1909, 4; William Herries, _New Zealand Parliamentary Debates_ , 150, 1910, 577, cited in Ranginui Walker, _He Tipua: The Life and Times of Sir Apirana Ngata_ , Auckland: Penguin, 2001, 176.

 Peter Buck (Te Rangi Hīroa), 'The Passing of the Maori', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 55, 1924, 362–75.

 'Auckland Society of Arts', _New Zealand Herald_ , 13 July 1905, 6.

 'Auckland Society of Arts Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 November 1901, 3.

 Jim Barr, quoted in _Evening Post_ , 12 December 1990, 9.

 An already noted exception is Rangihiroa Panoho, who completely overlooks the positive Māori reception of Goldie's work: Rangihiroa Panoho, _Māori Art: History, Architecture, Landscape and Theory_ , Auckland: David Bateman, 2015.

 'Society of Arts', _Auckland Star_ , 19 July 1905, 2.

 Hoani Te Heuheu Tūkino, 'Kia Mohio Nga Tangata Katoa', C. F. Goldie, Scrapbooks and Other Papers, MS 438, Scrapbook XIII, 141, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library; transcription and translation in Blackley, _Goldie_ , 181.

### **4 PERFORMING THE ANCIENT PAST**

 For a report on the formation and work of the Association, see 'The Future of the Maori', _Press_ , 12 April 1893, 3.

 _Auckland Star_ , 3 December 1894, 2.

 'A Maori Lecturer', _Press_ , 20 December 1894, 5.

 'The Lorgnette', _Observer_ , 22 December 1894, 7.

 For a discussion of the haka and its representations, see Roger Blackley, 'Improper Moves: Maori Haka and Racial Destiny', in Fae Brauer and Anthea Callen (eds), _Art, Sex and Eugenics: Corpus Delecti_ , Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing, 2008, 35–64.

 'The Maori Haka', _Evening Post_ , 19 September 1878, 2; 'Maori Performances', _Wanganui Herald_ , 27 August 1881, 2.

 Visitor, 'The Maori Haka', _New Zealand Herald_ , 17 January 1907, 3; Maorilander, 'The Maori Haka', _New Zealand Herald_ , 31 January 1907, 3.

 Visitor, 'The Maori Haka'.

 A Visitor to Rotorua, 'The Maori Haka', _New Zealand Herald_ , 31 January 1907, 3.

 Maggie Papakura, 'Haka and Poi Dances', _New Zealand Herald_ , 5 February 1907, 3.

 William Baucke, 'The Maori Haka', _New Zealand Herald_ , 8 February 1907, 6.

 'Social Purity Propaganda', _New Zealand Truth_ , 19 May 1917, 7.

 For the 'splendidly proportioned' Apollo Belvedere, see 'Australian Stage Gossip', _Otago Witness_ , 28 November 1906, 69, and advertisements as in the _Star_ , 26 January 1907, 6. In the face of such bronze-tinted physicality, perhaps no one cared that the original Apollo was in fact a _marble_ statue.

 'The Maori Carnival: Anglican Church Missions', _Otago Daily Times_ , 29 May 1901, 2.

 _Otago Daily Times_ , 20 May 1901, 4.

 Buck reported that he 'burnt' the inadequate English-language chant supplied by Hocken, and improvised with an incantation familiar to Māori children, 'The Kingfisher Stopping the Rain'. J. B. Condliffe, _Te Rangi Hiroa: The Life of Sir Peter Buck_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1971, 77.

 'The Opening of the Exhibition', _Taranaki Herald_ , 27 December 1904, 2.

 Kelvin Day, 'James Butterworth and the _Old Curiosity Shop_ , New Plymouth, Taranaki', _Tuhinga_ , 16, 93–126. A contemporary photograph reveals that the Old Curiosity Shop still held a considerable stock, even after considerable acquisitions by the Colonial Museum earlier in 1904.

 Sir Joseph Ward and Premier Richard Seddon both received 'mats': 'Address by Sir J. G. Ward', _Taranaki Herald_ , 12 January 1905, 7; 'New Plymouth Exhibition', _Wairarapa Daily Times_ , 13 January 1905, 6.

 'A Maori Christening . . . The Child Called "Carnival"', _Taranaki Herald_ , 3 January 1905, 5.

 'The Round of Gaiety Commenced: A Successful Opening', _Taranaki Herald_ , 27 December 1904, 2.

 _Evening Post_ , 24 December 1904, 4. The portrait was previously titled _Ana Rupene and Child_.

 Bernard Kernot, 'Maoriland Metaphors and the Model Pa', and Margaret Orbell, 'Maori Writing about the Exhibition', in John Mansfield Thomson (ed.), _Farewell Colonialism: The New Zealand International Exhibition, Christchurch, 1906–07_ , Palmerston North: Dunmore Press, 1998.

 Rēweti Kōhere, 'The Exhibition Meeting at Ōtautahi (Christchurch)', _Te Pipiwharauroa_ , 104, November 1906, 4–5, in Orbell, 'Maori Writing', 148 (macrons as applied by Orbell).

 Orbell, 'Maori Writing', footnotes 12 and 42.

 According to Kernot, Ngāi Tahu's absence was likely to have been a protest following the passage of the South Island Landless Natives Act 1906. Kernot, 'Maoriland Metaphors', 72.

 James Cowan, 'The Exhibition: The Maori Pa', _Star_ , 2 November 1906, 1.

 Kernot, 'Maoriland Metaphors', 66.

 Roger Neich, _Carved Histories: Rotorua Ngati Tarawhai Woodcarving_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2001, 213–14. The house is now in the Stuttgart Linden-Museum.

 'The Governor at the Pa: A Maori Welcome', _New Zealand Herald_ , 3 November 1906, 5. Other Māori visitors felt compelled to join in haka and waiata, as described at the Governor's pōwhiri: 'A lady, who was a spectator, also succumbed to the infection, and took her place among the poi dancers, waving her parasol in the air, rolling her eyes, and chanting weirdly as to the manner born.'

 'All Sorts of People', _Free Lance_ , 27 March 1909, 4.

 For Te Uru and Kennington's commercial activities, see Barry Hancox, _Gimcracks, Greenstone & Gold: Collecting and Imagining the New Zealand International Exhibition, Christchurch, 1906–7_, Christchurch: Christchurch Antique Bottle & Collectables Club, 2006, 105–7.

 Among other important items sent from the Cook Islands by the Resident Commissioner, Colonel Gudgeon, was 'an ariki's throne belonging to a family of Aitutaki, who are said to be practically one with the Ngatiporou tribe of the North Island': 'The Exhibition', _Otago Witness_ , 30 January 1907, 52.

 T. T. Rāwhiti and Tuta Nihoniho, 'A Cause for Much Reflection: a Meeting in the Flesh, Face to Face', _Te Pipiwharauroa_ , 105, December 1906, 6–7, in Orbell, 'Maori Writing', 152–53 (macrons as applied by Orbell).

 Amiria Henare, who is preoccupied with the 'biographies' of objects, claims that this was a 'tuku', or presentation, to the Māori hosts, but it is likely that – having served its purpose – the precious relic returned to Rarotonga with its caretakers. Amiria J. M. Henare, _Museums, Anthropology and Imperial Exchange_ , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 222.

 _New Zealand International Exhibition 1906–7. Fine Art Section: Official Catalogue_ , Christchurch: Christchurch Press Co. Ltd, 1906, 6.

 A keen canoeist himself, Watkins wrote that '[t]he subject has always possessed a thrilling interest for me': Kennett Watkins, 'The Canoe that brought the Maori to New Zealand', _Auckland Star_ , 30 December 1908, 8. Successive instalments appeared on 6 January, 8, 13 January, 8, and 20 January, 6.

 S. Percy Smith, _Hawaiki: The Whence of the Maori, with a Sketch of Polynesian History, Being an Introduction to the Native History of Rarotonga_ , Wellington: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1898.

 The mythology of the Fleet was absorbed into Māori tradition, as a heroic origin myth superseding those available to Pākehā. Āpirana Ngata, for example, would invest huge energy into the 600-year commemorations of 1950. Ironically, twenty-first-century archaeological consensus favours the 1300s as the period of migration, meaning that Smith's chronology has finally triumphed.

 The popularisation of this theory was assisted by publication of a digested essay by Smith on the Indian origins of Māori that appeared in the _New Zealand Year-Book_ of 1898.

 'The Maori Pa: A Notable Attraction', _Evening Post_ , 1 November 1906, 7.

 'The Young Maori Party', _New Zealand Herald_ , 29 December 1897, 3.

 For a discussion of 'primitive' authenticity, see Margaret McClure, _The Wonder Country: Making New Zealand Tourism_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2004, 41–48.

 Josiah Martin, '1902: Retrospect and Prospect', _Sharland's New Zealand Photographer_ , 7 January 1902, 6.

 There is a disjunction between this primitivistic obsession with the 'old-time Maori' and the ultra-modernity of _Sharland's New Zealand Photographer_ , with editorials on radium and advertisements for up-to-the-minute photographic equipment.

 Augustus Hamilton, 'Maori Art', _Press_ , 1 May 1899, 5. Hamilton's idealised visualisations of 'authentic', old-time settlements extended to the execution of a large painted canvas, _Sketch of a Maori Pa_ , which appeared at the Otago Art Society's exhibition of December 1900. _Otago Witness_ , 19 December 1900, 12.

 Neich, _Carved Histories_ , 218–26.

 Teipu [Te Ipu] Tarakawa, 'The Model Pa at Whakarewarewa', _New Zealand Herald_ , 9 August 1904, 3.

 5 May 1905, Tourist Dept File 04/288, Archives New Zealand, quoted by Neich, _Carved Histories_ , 223.

 T. E. Donne, _The Maori: Past and Present_ , London: Seeley, Service, 1927, 167, quoted by Neich, ibid.

 'The Maori Pa', _Evening Post_ , 1 November 1906, 7.

 Mair to Robieson, 15 May 1904, quoted by McClure, _The Wonder Country_ , 45.

 Ibid.

 'The Orakei Bill: An Unfavourable Report', _New Zealand Herald_ , 2 November 1912, 8.

 'Parliament Prorogued: Session Ended Last Night . . . A Skit on the Orakei Bill', _New Zealand Herald_ , 8 November 1912, 7.

 '"A Model Pa": Dr. Buck's Clever "Take Off"', _Wanganui Chronicle_ , 6 December 1912, 2.

 James Cowan, 'The Proposed Maori Pa', _Auckland Star_ , 22 October 1927, 8. Smith's hope had actually been that a 'complete plan or model' of the pā be produced. S. Percy Smith, 'The Auckland Institute and its Work . . . The Ancient Maori Pa', _New Zealand Herald_ , 30 June 1888, supplement, 1.

 'Model Maori Fort: Project for Mount Eden', _New Zealand Herald_ , 29 May 1928, 11.

 'Model Maori Pa: Erection at Mount Eden: Sir A. T. Ngata's Approval', _New Zealand Herald_ , 26 January 1928, 14.

 'Model Maori Pa . . . Offer from Native Carver', _Auckland Star_ , 17 February 1928, 5.

 'Model Pa on Mount Eden', _New Zealand Herald_ , 31 May 1928, 10.

 'Pa on Mount Eden: Proposal Criticised', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 June 1928, 12.

 'Pa on Mount Eden', _New Zealand Herald_ , 4 June 1928, 12.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 2 June 1928, 13.

 George Graham, 'Model Pa on Mount Eden', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 June 1928, 14. Later in the year, still agitating for the project, Graham was clearly irritated by Lloyd's image: '"There will be no Maoris living there, and neither tuna nor shark strung on poles," said Mr. Graham. "All that we wish to do is to restore an old fortification to its original condition, and to preserve for all time something which will be both educative and attractive."' 'Model Maori Pa: Site on Mount Eden: Neither Shark nor Tuna', _Auckland Star_ , 1 December 1928, 7.

 Judith Binney, _Encircled Lands: Te Urewera, 1820–1921_ , Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2009, 505.

 'In Tuhoe Land', _Auckland Star_ , 16 April 1906, 5.

 Ben Dibley, 'Telling Times: Narrating Nation at the New Zealand International Exhibition, 1906–7', _Sites_ , 34, 1997, 1–18.

 'A Great Maori Battle: An Exciting Time at the Pa', _Press_ , 28 February 1907, 8.

 Sir John Gorst, _New Zealand Revisited: Recollections of the Days of My Youth_ , London: Sir Isaac Pitman & Sons, 1908, 66.

 Kernot, 'Maoriland Metaphors', 77.

 Giselle Byrnes, _The Waitangi Tribunal and New Zealand History_ , Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2004, 160.

### **5 THE CURIO ECONOMY**

 For a 1901 ceremony at Maungakawa, see 'The Maori Parliament', _Colonist_ , 14 June 1901, 3.

 L.M.B., 'Kua Heke te Maua [sic]', _New Zealand Herald_ , 2 September 1905, supplement, 1. The title, which should read 'Kua Heke te Mana', is translated as 'The Glory Has Departed'.

 Ibid.

 'The Maungakawa Meeting House: Destroyed by Fire', _Waikato Argus_ , 24 February 1908, 3. For an image of the throne, see 'Throne or State Chair of the Maori Kings: Restoration from a photograph by A. P. Godber', W. J. Phillipps, _Carved Maori Houses of Western and Northern Areas of New Zealand_ , Wellington: Government Printer, 1955, 212.

 'Maori Treasures Burned', _Auckland Star_ , 24 February 1908, 5; 'Historic Maori Relics Lost', _Evening Post_ , 25 February 1908, 2.

 The burial caves at Waimamaku, south of Hokianga, were accidentally discovered by pig-hunters in 1902. 'Auckland Museum: Securing Maori Relics: The Waimamaku Find', _Auckland Star_ , 24 May 1902, 3; 'Strange Curios: Maori Carved Burial Chests: Relics of an Ancient Race', _Dominion_ , 25 March 1909, 6.

 'Tawhiao at the British Museum: Frightened by Egyptian Mummies', _Te Aroha News_ , 23 August 1884, 3.

 'Otago Institute: Presidential address delivered by Mr Augustus Hamilton', _Otago Witness_ , 27 May 1903, 55.

 Ibid.

 Augustus Hamilton, 'On Some Armour Presented to Titore, a Nga Puhi Chief, by H.M. William IV in 1835', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 42, 1910, 40–43.

 H. D. Skinner and his father, W. H. Skinner – surveyor, collector and founding member of the Polynesian Society – jointly presented their sizeable collection to the Taranaki Museum in 1919. 'New Plymouth Museum', _Dominion_ , 29 August 1919, 5; 'An Historic Event: Opening of New Plymouth Museum, Skinner Collection Presented to the Town', _Taranaki Daily News_ , 29 August 1919, 6.

 'Industrial Exhibition: A Great Success', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 9 December 1909, 5.

 Ibid.

 'Art, Industrial, and Curio Exhibition', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 8 December 1909, 5. Hēni Carroll was the wife of Sir James Carroll (Timi Kara).

 Paul Tapsell, 'Taonga: A Tribal Response to Museums', DPhil thesis, Pitt Rivers Museum, University of Oxford, 1998.

 In _Exhibiting Māori: A History of Colonial Cultures of Display_ (Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2007), Conal McCarthy deploys a definitional sequence – curio to specimen to taonga – in order to signal changing attitudes towards Māori objects held in museums.

 Adrienne L. Kaeppler, _'Artificial Curiosities': An Exposition of Native Manufactures Collected on the Three Pacific Voyages of Captain James Cook, R.N_., Bernice P. Bishop Museum Special Publication 65, Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1978.

 Dorota C. Starzecka, Roger Neich and Mick Pendergrast (eds), _Taonga Māori in the British Museum_ , London: British Museum Press, 2010, 15.

 'A Much Needed Restriction', editorial, _Wanganui Herald_ , 18 May 1901, 2.

 Paul Tapsell, _Pukaki: A Comet Returns_ , Auckland: Reed Books, 2000, 90.

 'The Auckland Museum: New Ethnological Treasures: Captain Mair's Collection', _Auckland Star_ , 4 June 1891, 2. For an extended profile of the collection, see 'Relics of the Maori: The Mair Collection in the Auckland Museum', _Auckland Star_ , 2 November 1901, supplement, 3.

 A particularly complex case study is the trajectory of a dog-skin cloak called Te Kahumamae-o-Pareraututu (Pareraututu's Cloak of Pain). Paul Tapsell, 'The Flight of Pareraututu: An Investigation of _Taonga_ from a Tribal Perspective', _Journal of the Polynesian Society_ , 106, 4, 1997, 323–74.

 Elizabeth Edwards, _Raw Histories: Photographs, Anthropology and Museums_ , Oxford and New York: Berg, 2001, 68.

 For Pulman Studio's _Maori Curios_ , see Athol McCredie, _New Zealand Photography Collected_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2015, 174. The photograph was distributed by the Tourist Department.

 [James Cowan], 'A Memorable Hui', _Auckland Star_ , 17 June 1901, 5.

 'The Maori Antiquities Act: Circumlocution in Excelsis', _New Zealand Truth_ , 16 November 1918, 1.

 Anna K. C. Petersen, 'The European Use of Maori Art in New Zealand Homes c. 1890–1914', in Barbara Brookes (ed.), _At Home in New Zealand: History, Houses, People_ , Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2000, 57–72, 233–36.

 Aparata Renata [Alfred Reynolds], 'Unearthing Maori Idols: War Clubs, Adzes, and Bone Implements', _Otago Witness_ , 7 July 1892, 38; 14 July 1892, 43; 28 July 1892, 38. Kelvin Day claims that Reynolds made a living from his activities: 'James Butterworth and the _Old Curiosity Shop_ , New Plymouth, Taranaki', _Tuhinga_ , 16, 93.

 Renata [Reynolds], 'Unearthing Maori Idols', _Otago Witness_ , 14 July 1892, 43.

 Ibid.

 Renata [Reynolds], 'Unearthing Maori Idols', _Otago Witness_ , 28 July 1892, 38.

 Murray Aston, 'Rural Rambles: Kurow', _Otago Witness_ , 22 September 1892, 39; 'Rural Rambles: Hawksbury (Waikouaiti)', _Otago Witness_ , 3 November 1892, 33. Aston includes 'Maori relics' within his assessment of the potential for tourism at Kurow and Waikouaiti.

 Murray Aston, 'A Visit to Stewart Island', _Otago Witness_ , 4 February 1892, 35.

 Ibid.

 Other contributions in this genre include D.C., 'The Curio Hunter', _Otago Witness_ , 13 April 1893, 47; George C. Baker, 'Maori Curio Hunting', _Otago Witness_ , 13 January 1904, 73; and, from a generation later, [L. J. Vangioni], 'Maori Curio Hunting: Delving into the Past', _Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser_ , 31 January 1930, 2.

 H. D. M. Haszard, 'Notes on some Relics of Cannibalism', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 22, 1890, 104–5.

 'At the Three Kings Caves', _Observer_ , 26 January 1889, 8.

 [Thomas W. Porter], 'A Maori Charnel House', _Hawke's Bay Herald_ [now missing], _Nelson Evening Mail_ , 15 April 1872, 2; _Timaru Herald_ , 1 May 1872, 3. The attribution to Porter is based on his later, acknowledged accounts of the event.

 'Gisborne Debating Society', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 1 July 1879, 2.

 _Ashburton Guardian_ , 17 March 1920, 4.

 _Appendices to the Journals of the House of Representatives_ , 1903, G.1, 1–2: 'General Conference . . . held under the provisions of "The Maori Councils Act 1900"', cited in Ron Crosby, _Gilbert Mair: Te Kooti's Nemesis_ , Auckland: Reed, 2004, 286.

 Gilbert Mair, undated manuscript letter, MS-Papers 0092, folder 57, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, cited in Crosby, _Gilbert Mair_ , 287.

 The photograph, titled _Maori Burial Cave, Lake Rotoiti, Rotorua_ , appears on page 2 of the report. Prompted in part by Mair's exposé, in 1903 the Maori Councils Act 1900 was amended to provide that 'every person who is convicted of trespassing on or desecrating or interfering in any manner with any Maori grant, cemetery, burial cave, or place of sepulchre, is liable to a fine not exceeding £25, or to three months' imprisonment, or to both fine and imprisonment'. 'Maori Councils', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 12 September 1903, 4. Paul Tapsell has nevertheless suggested that some of Mair's own taonga may have been surreptitiously sourced from burial caves.

 Scrapbook relating to Maggie Papakura, T. E. Donne papers, qMS-0621, 33 (verso), Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. The letter is cited and transcribed by Robin James Watt, 'The Fake Maori Artefacts of James Edward Little and James Frank Robieson', PhD thesis, Anthropology, Victoria University of Wellington, 1990, 2, 102–3.

 'An Ancient Burial Cave', _New Zealand Herald_ , 30 December 1884, 6, documents a touristic visit to a cliff-face cave near the Porirua Heads: 'The place is "tapu," and as such is of course held sacred by the Maoris'; 'Old Maori Sepulchre: The Caves at Maungakiekie', _Auckland Star_ , 4 June 1907, 5: 'Owing to the kindness of the chairman of the One Tree Hill Domain Board, Mr. C. Bagley, several gentlemen were afforded an opportunity yesterday afternoon of visiting two of the caves, one of which was a veritable catacomb as far as deposits of human bones were concerned.'

 Michael King, _The Collector: Andreas Reischek, a Biography_ , Auckland: Hodder & Stoughton, 1981, 88.

 Ibid.

 'Interesting Maori Relicts [sic]', _Waikato Times_ , 21 January 1882, 3; _Nelson Evening Mail_ , 7 February 1882, 4. The Ruapuke-based correspondent had visited the area, but not the cave itself, and collected information from Pākehā who had entered with a Māori guide, named as 'Karidi', who was now dead.

 Andreas Reischek, _Sterbende Welt: Zwölf Jahre Forscherleben auf Neuseeland_ , Leipzig, 1924; translated and edited by H. E. L. Priday as _Yesterdays in Maoriland_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1952, 215.

 For a more nuanced account of Reischek's activities, and the complicated genesis of _Yesterdays in Maoriland_ , see Erich Kolig, 'Andreas Reischek and the Maori: Villainy or the Nineteenth-Century Scientific Ethos?', _Pacific Studies_ , 10, 1, 1986, 55–78.

 H. E. Gaze, 'In the King Country: A Land of Beauty', _Star_ , 24 September 1901, 4.

 _Daily Southern Cross_ , 25 March 1864, 1.

 'Old Curiosity Shop; Butterworth's Collection of "Maori Curios"', _Taranaki Herald_ , 19 September 1892, 2. For an account of Butterworth's career, see Day, 'James Butterworth and the _Old Curiosity Shop_ ', 93–126.

 'Old Curiosity Shop; Butterworth's Collection of "Maori Curios"'.

 Day, 'James Butterworth and the _Old Curiosity Shop_ ', 98.

 _Inangahua Times_ , 27 April 1885, 2.

 'Remenyi and Chief Renata Kawepo', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 11 May 1885, 3.

 _Inangahua Times_ , 12 June 1885, 2.

 'The Misses Albu: Two Talented Singers', _Auckland Star_ , 4 August 1893, 2.

 'The Misses Albu: A Talk with Two Talented Vocalists', _Star_ , 6 June 1893, 1.

 'Theatrical and Musical Notes', _Otago Witness_ , 28 May 1891, 32; 'Sarah Bernhardt', _Star_ , 23 May 1891, 4.

 'Sara [sic] Bernhardt', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 21 August 1891, 3.

 'Rare Maori Carvings, &c.', _New Zealand Herald_ , 14 August 1891, supplement, 3.

 Ibid.

 _Tuapeka Times_ , 15 July 1885, 2. Though Kaiaua is adjacent to Miranda but some distance from Whakatīwai, the finds have nevertheless been confused.

 While both photographs in the British Museum carry the Josiah Martin blindstamp, David Simmons argues that the original photographs were taken by Dannefærd. D. R. Simmons, 'The Sarah Bernhardt Collection and Maori Art', _Connaissance des Arts Tribaux. Bulletin publié par l'association des amis du Musée Barbier-Müller, Genève_ , 21, 1983, 2.

 Frances Brewer Lysnar, _New Zealand: The Dear Old Maori Land_ , Auckland: Brett Printing & Publishing Co., 1911, 58; Old Timer, 'Maori Carvings and Curios: Country Largely Denuded', _Auckland Star_ , 17 April 1924, 11.

 The left-hand carving, since deaccessioned from the Barbier-Müller Museum, is said by an insider in the ethnographic market to have been 'restored' back to a single panel, inspired by the Josiah Martin/Sygvard Dannefærd documentation. Other pieces from Bernhardt's collection are in the Musée du quai Branly.

 'A Relic of Former Days: Old Maori Carving', _Hot Lakes Chronicle_ , 5 October 1912, in Ross B. O'Rourke, 'S. Dannefærd: Jeweller, Lapidary, and Curio Merchant: The Collection and Associated Correspondence in the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa: A Chronological Document Bank', Wellington: Museum of New Zealand, 1997, n.p.

 Edgar R. Waite, _Guide to the Maori Tomb in the Canterbury Museum_ , Christchurch: Christchurch Press Co., 1912, 4.

 'Ancient Maori Carvings: An Appeal for Funds from Canterbury', _Weekly Graphic and New Zealand Mail_ , 4 December 1912, 35.

 Penelope Campbell, 'Collecting the Pacific 1768–1977: Joseph Banks, Alexander Turnbull, Rex Nan Kivell', MA thesis, Art History, Victoria University of Wellington, 2002, 47–81. The number of items transferred to the Dominion Museum was significantly underestimated by E. H. McCormick ( _Alexander Turnbull: His Life, His Circle, His Collections_ , Wellington: Alexander Turnbull Library, 1974, 254).

 'A Maori Sanctuary', _Lyttelton Times_ , 13 November 1912, 11.

 'Relic of Captain Cook's Visit in Possession of the Maoris; A Family Heirloom', _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 2 May 1912, 7.

 _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 11 March 1913, 4.

 'A Much Needed Restriction', editorial, _Wanganui Herald_ , 18 May 1901, 2.

 'The Maori Gifts to the Duke', _Wanganui Herald_ , 20 June 1901, 2.

 'The Critic', _New Zealand Truth_ , 14 June 1913, 1.

 William Blomfield, 'Maori Art Curios', _Evening Post_ , 27 July 1901, 15. Further developments in the career trajectory might include: 'quietly deaccessioned from musty museum into private ownership, sold for huge sums at the tribal art sale, adorning the Swiss private collection'.

 Ibid.

 'Pars about People', _Observer_ , 7 December 1901, 4.

 _Maori Weapons, Implements, Ornaments and Robes_ , J. C. Stevens, 16 April 1912 ('The Specimens here offered are Genuine Relics of Maori Work, collected during the last forty years in New Zealand and elsewhere'); _The T. E. Donne Collection of New Zealand Watercolours, Drawings, Artifacts and Natural History Specimens_ , Sotheby & Co., 1 November 1973.

 _A Catalogue of the Well-known Ethnographical Collection formed by Mr. Frank Hyams_ , J. C. Stevens, 8 May 1907.

 Scrapbook relating to Maggie Papakura, T. E. Donne papers, qMS-0621, 62 (verso), Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington.

 Charles E. Nelson, 'The Whence of the Maori', _Press_ , 12 October 1901, 4.

 James Cowan, 'Some Reminiscences [of Charles E. Nelson]', _Marlborough Express_ , 28 January 1909, 2.

 Roger Neich, _Carved Histories: Rotorua Ngati Tarawhai Woodcarving_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2001, 198.

 Ibid., 201. For Mark Adams' superb photographs of Rauru, see Nicholas Thomas et al., _Rauru: Tene Waitere, Maori Carving, Colonial History_ , Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2009.

 Charles E. Nelson to Augustus Hamilton, 15 May 1899, quoted in Neich, _Carved Histories_ , 202.

 [William Blomfield], 'Maori Carving: The House at Whakarewarewa; It Should Be Secured For New Zealand', _Observer_ , 6 May 1899, 2.

 'The Carved House at Rotorua: Purchased for a Berlin Museum', _Auckland Weekly_ News, 1 June 1900, 9; F. von Luschan to Sir Walter Buller, 18 August 1900, quoted by Neich, _Carved Histories_ , 209.

 'Local and General', _Hawera & Normanby Star_, 13 June 1904, 2.

 'Local and General', _Star_ , 10 June 1904, 3.

 [William Blomfield], 'Dog in the Manger: The Maori Carved House at Rotorua', _Observer_ , 23 July 1904, 2.

 'Entre Nous', _New Zealand Free Lance_ , 22 August 1908, 12.

 Old Timer, 'Maori Carvings and Curios: Country Largely Denuded', _Auckland Star_ , 17 April 1924, 11.

 The ornately incised bone heitiki in _Tikis et Ornaments_ – stationed between two genuine greenstone specimens – is claimed by Peter Gathercole to be a 'trumpet'-style work by James Edward Little ('Obstacles to the Study of Maori Carving: The Collector, the Connoisseur, and the Faker', in Michael Greenhalgh and Vincent Megaw (eds), _Art in Society: Studies in Style, Culture, and Aesthetics_ , London: Duckworth, 1978, figure 3, 281–82). Robin Watt disputes this attribution on stylistic grounds, arguing that it is equally unlikely to be the work of Maggie Papakura's nemesis James Frank Robieson (Watt, 'The Fake Maori Artefacts of James Edward Little and James Frank Robieson', 1, 226–27). The unidentified faker was a prolific producer of innovative heitiki, executed in both whale and human skull bone, that have seduced historical collectors and modern curators alike. The appeal of these objects to the European eye is confirmed by the appearance of a highly unusual skull-bone heitiki on the cover of the _Guide des Collections_ of the Musée d'Arts Africains, Océaniens, Amérindiens at Marseilles (Paris: Artlys & Musées de Marseille, 2013). The fake is also used to advertise the museum's audiotour.

 Renata [Reynolds], 'Unearthing Maori Idols', _Otago Witness_ , 28 July 1892, 38.

 _Poverty Bay Herald_ , 23 April 1906, 1.

 'Anglo-Colonial Notes: A Maori Whare in London', _Evening Post_ , 18 January 1899, 6; 'Our London Letter: Anglo-Colonial Notes', _Otago Witness_ , 9 February 1899, 43.

 For a good description of Hyams' productions, see 'Items of Interest', _Marlborough Express_ , 16 January 1899, 4.

 To make the stall as representative of New Zealand as possible, the New Zealand women at the National Bazaar in May 1900 obtained 'a large collection of greenstone ornaments' from Mrs Frank Hyams: 'New Zealand at the National Bazaar', _Star_ , 6 July 1900, 1.

 'Anglo-Colonial Notes', _Otago Daily Times_ , 20 June 1908, 10.

 'Free Lancings', _Observer_ , 4 February 1893, 1.

 'Larsen's Curio Shop', _Observer_ , 15 August 1908, 20.

 Ibid.

 W. H. Skinner, 'Bones v. Stones', _Taranaki Herald_ , 14 March 1906, 3.

 Puke Ariki's fascinating 'Little Collection' is referenced in Watt, 'The Fake Maori Artefacts of James Edward Little and James Frank Robieson', 1, 83–85. For details of the correspondence and objects acquired, see Sorrel Hoskin, 'The Little Fakes', <http://pukeariki.com/Learning-Research/Taranaki-Research-Centre/Taranaki-Stories/Taranaki-Story/id/108/title/the-little-fakes>.

 'News from Home', _Feilding Star_ , 21 December 1901, 4.

 'The Royal Tour: Colonial Gifts to the Prince and Princess of Wales', _Auckland Star_ , 28 June 1902, 2.

 Ibid.

 _Feilding Star_ , 13 August 1904, 2.

 Having surveyed the images and descriptions published in the _New Zealand Graphic_ , Robley expressed an opinion to the British Museum's Keeper of Ethnography, Charles Hercules Read, that the presents were 'modern made except a few relics'. H. G. Robley to C. H. Read, 22 October 1901, H. G. Robley, Correspondence with C. H. Read, 1901–1910, Department of Prehistory, British Museum.

 Sally Blundell, 'Treasure Hunt', _New Zealand Listener_ , 16 April 2011, 22–25. The extent of the Royal Collection losses, while never publicised, was communicated by a British museum worker.

 'The Day at Rotorua: Past and Present; An Astonished Admiral; Weird Ceremonies', _New Zealand Herald_ , 14 August 1908, 5.

 Department of Anthropology, National Museum of Natural History, E317319–E317331, gift of Rear Admiral Charles Sperry U.S.N. and Mrs Edith Sperry, 1921.

 'Cost of "Fleet Week": Some of the Items', _New Zealand Herald_ , 9 October 1909, 5.

 James A. Boon, 'Why Museums Make Me Sad', in Ivan Karp and Stephen D. Lavine (eds), _Exhibiting Cultures: The Poetics and Politics of Museum Display_ , Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2012, 255–77.

 Māui Pōmare, 'The Maori', Extract from a paper read before the Australasian Medical Congress [October 1908], in Hoani Parata, _The Maori of New Zealand: Past, Present and Future_ , London: T. Hughes & Co., 1911, 7–8.

 W. A. Taylor, 'Who Were the Moa Hunters?', _Ellesmere Guardian_ , 14 January 1944, 3.

### **6 PROBLEMS WITH PORTRAITS**

 Paul Tapsell, 'Service after Death: The Art of Maori Leadership in Marae Contexts', in Erin Griffey et al., _The Power of Portraiture: Representing Leadership in New Zealand from 1840 to the Present_ , Auckland: University of Auckland Business School and David Ling Publishing, 2008, 18–31.

 Discussing Angas's 1846 exhibition at the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, Leonard Bell reports that of 139 New Zealand paintings exhibited, 82 were portraits of Māori individuals and groups: Bell, _Colonial Constructs: European Images of Maori 1840–1914_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1992, 10–11.

 Angas reports the intense tangi that was provoked by his portrait of the Waikato chief Karaka when seen later by his sister. George French Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand_ , London: Smith, Elder & Co., 1847, 2, 46–47.

 Angas, _Savage Life and Scenes_ , 2, 52.

 Ibid., 2, 115.

 Ibid., 2, 112–13.

 Ibid., 2, 115.

 G. C. Petersen and S. M. Mead, _Portraits of the New Zealand Maori Painted in 1844 by George French Angas_ , Wellington: A. H. & A. W. Reed, 1972, plate 41, 'Ancient Carved House at Pari-Pari'.

 Elsdon Best, _Tuhoe: The Children of the Mist_ , New Plymouth: Board of Ethnological Research, 1925, 1114.

 James Cowan, _Pictures of Old New Zealand: The Partridge Collection of Maori Paintings by Gottfried Lindauer, described by James Cowan_ , Auckland: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1930, 74.

 Roger Blackley, 'The Plutarch of Maoriland: James Cowan and _Pictures of Old New Zealand_ ', in Annabel Cooper and Ariana Tikao (eds), _James Cowan and the Legacies of Late Colonial Culture in New Zealand_ , special issue of the _Journal of New Zealand Studies_ , NS19, 2015, 114.

 Sam Stuart, 'Memorials of Early New Zealand: Collection of Portraits of Maori Chiefs for Museum', _Auckland Star_ , 13 January 1888, 5.

 For Joseph Merrett's covert portraiture of Hōne Heke, see Roger Blackley, 'The Portraits of Joseph Merrett', _Art New Zealand_ , 56, 1990, 84.

 'Picture of Te Whiti: Sketch on Shirt Cuff: "Prophet's" Ban on Camera', _New Zealand Herald_ , 16 July 1928, 14. Subsidiary versions were also made available, including as a 'capitally enlarged' print offered by William Harding in September 1881 ('Monetary Items', _Wanganui Herald_ , 30 September 1881, 2). Gordon's portrait, together with a variant, is reproduced in Michael Graham-Stewart, _Negative Kept: Maori and the Carte de Visite_ , Auckland: John Leech Gallery, 2013, 119.

 John P. Ward, _Wanderings with the Maori Prophets, Te Whiti and Tohu_ , Nelson: Bond, Finney & Co., 1883, i–ii. For the photograph, see Te Miringa Hohaia, Gregory O'Brien and Lara Strongman (eds), _Parihaka: The Art of Passive Resistance_ , Wellington: City Gallery and Victoria University Press, 2001, 51.

 Michael King, _Maori: A Photographic and Social History_ , Auckland: Heinemann, 1983, 170.

 Johannes Andersen, quoted by Graham-Stewart, _Negative Kept_ , 184.

 William Baucke, 'Where the White Man Treads. Te Whiti: "In Memoriam"', _New Zealand Herald_ , 30 November 1907, supplement, 1, cited in Graham-Stewart, _Negative Kept_ , 184.

 'The men often gestured toward the eight large photographs displayed on the wall behind Dame Te Ata's casket', _New Zealand Herald_ , 17 August 2006, 1, cited in Michael Graham-Stewart, _Out of Time: Maori & the Photographer: The Ngawini Cooper Trust Collection_, Auckland: John Leech Gallery, 2006, 17.

 Roger Blackley, 'King Tāwhiao's Big O. E.', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 44, 2012, 46; 'Anglo-Colonial Notes', _Auckland Star_ , 9 September 1884, 2: 'Mayall, the famous Bond Street photographer, took portraits of Tawhiao and his chiefs, singly and in a group, on Monday.' Martin's pirated version 'primitivises' Tāwhiao's wardrobe by blurring the white shirt collar that in Mayall's photograph was visible above the cloak.

 Lindauer's portrait is held by Christchurch Art Gallery Te Puna o Waiwhetū. A similar treatment of King's photograph can be seen in the frontispiece to vol. 3 of _Cassell's Picturesque Australasia_ (Melbourne, 1888).

 'The Tangi over Tawhiao', _New Zealand Graphic and Ladies' Journal_ , 6 October 1894, 320.

 'Tawhiao's Tangi: A Visit to Taupiri', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 29 September 1894, 37.

 'Tawhiao's Obsequies', _Evening Post_ , 19 September 1894, 2.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 27 November 1896, 3.

 'A Photographer at Papawai', _Star_ , 6 June 1898, 4. 'An issue had gone forth from the Executive that all white persons caught with a camera would be arrested on the spot.'

 'A Maori Tangi, or Death Feast', _Auckland Weekly News_ , Christmas Number, 1900, 12–13.

 'An Interesting Case. Publication of a Native Photograph: Claim for Damages', _Taranaki Herald_ , 10 December 1900, 2.

 'S.M. Court', _Taranaki Daily News_ , 11 December 1900, 2.

 'Rewi Objects to Have his Portrait Taken', _Taranaki Herald_ , 11 September 1875, 2.

 'Visit to Rewi's Settlement', _Auckland Star_ , 26 June 1879, 2.

 'Rewi and the Diamond Ring', _New Zealand Herald_ , 29 May 1879, 5; for a description of the photograph, see _Auckland Star_ , 16 June 1879, 2.

 'Kihikihi', _Waikato Times_ , 16 May 1885, 2. The £40 portrait commission may refer to the painter Joseph Gaut, who was operating in Waikato during this period.

 'Parihaka News', _Auckland Star_ , 22 November 1881, 3.

 'Last Will and Testament of Renata Kawepo, 11 January 1881', MS 7746/57, Rex Nan Kivell Collection, National Library of Australia.

 _New Zealand Times_ , 15 January 1886, in _Colonial and Indian Exhibition: Catalogue of New Zealand Exhibits_ , London: William Clowes & Sons, 1886, 50.

 Ibid., 51.

 Ibid., 50.

 'The Future of New Zealand: An Interview with Sir Walter Buller', _Sala's Magazine_ [1892], Sir Walter Buller Papers, Scrapbook, qMS-0327, vol. 1, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, reprinted _Star_ , 23 September 1892, 1.

 Ross Galbreath, _Walter Buller: The Reluctant Conservationist_ , Wellington: GP Books, 1989, 130.

 For the history and operation of the Native Land Court, see David V. Williams, _'Te Kooti Tango Whenua': The Native Land Court 1864–1909_ , Wellington: Huia, 1999.

 Rod McDonald, _Te Hekenga: Early Days in Horowhenua_ , compiled and written by Ewart O'Donnell, Palmerston North: G. H. Bennett & Co., 1929, 192. On page 87, McDonald recounts Buller's blatant theft of the collection of relics gifted to his father by Māori friends.

 For a useful summary of the impact of the Waitangi Tribunal on New Zealand historiography, see Michael Belgrave, _Historical Frictions: Maori Claims and Invented Histories_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2005.

 See Buller's self-justifying pamphlets, _Sir Walter Buller at the Bar of the House; and the History of the Horowhenua Block_ , Wellington: Evening Post, 1895, and _The Horowhenua Commission: Address of Sir Walter Buller, K.C.M.G., as Counsel for Major Kemp Te Rangihiwinui and the Muaupoko Tribe_ , Wellington: R. Coupland Harding, 1896.

 Victor Wilhelm Lindauer, 'How Papa Painted His First Maori Portrait', MS-Papers-4369, E. M. Lindauer Papers, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington.

 'Maori Sayings and Doings', _New Zealand Herald_ , 31 October 1882, 6.

 Te Papa collection, ME002330. The weapon appears in the Lindauer portraits of King Tāwhiao acquired by Buller (Whanganui Regional Museum) and Partridge (Auckland Art Gallery).

 'The Native Gathering at Cambridge: Mr Lindauer's Portraits', _New Zealand Herald_ , 29 January 1883, 6.

 Ibid.

 'Brief Mention', _Observer_ , 4 November 1882, 124.

 'Tawhiao at Cambridge', _New Zealand Herald_ , 17 May 1883, 5.

 _Bay of Plenty Times_ , 12 June 1883, 2. Both Manuhiri and Wahanui are represented in the Partridge Collection, with Wahanui alone joining the Buller Collection.

 'The Natives and the Lawyers', _New Zealand Herald_ , 10 February 1883, 5.

 Collection of Te Papa; illustrated in Udo Kittelmann and Britta Schultz (eds), _Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori-Portraits_ , Cologne: Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther König, 2014, 44.

 'A Notable Artist', _Manawatu Standard_ , 18 December 1900, 2.

 Lindauer, 'How Papa Painted His First Maori Portrait'.

 Anihera Reina (or Rema) to Walter Buller, 2 November 1885, Sir Walter Buller Papers, MS-Papers-0048-0020, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington; transcribed and translated by Angela Ballara, in Frances Porter and Charlotte Macdonald (eds), _'My Hand Will Write What My Heart Dictates': The Unsettled Lives of Women in Nineteenth-Century New Zealand as Revealed to Sisters, Family and Friends_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press and Bridget Williams Books, 1996, 52–53.

 'Munificent Gift: The Buller Collection, Presented to the State', _Evening Post_ , 13 October 1911, 3.

 Ibid.

 _The Wanganui Museum Collection of Paintings by Gottfried Lindauer_ , Whanganui: Wanganui Herald, 1962.

 For Lindauer's _The Tohunga: Te Aokatoa_ , see Graeme Lay, _In Search of Paradise: Artists and Writers in the Colonial South Pacific_ , Auckland: Random House, 2008, 139. The carved amo (bargeboard support post) to the left of the tohunga is derived from Josiah Martin's photograph of the pātaka panel acquired by Sarah Bernhardt in 1891.

### **7 PĀKEHĀ PROPAGANDA**

 'New Zealand Telegrams', _New Zealand Herald_ , 12 May 1879, 5.

 _Auckland Star_ , 5 October 1892, 4.

 'A Souvenir for Home', _Auckland Star_ , 7 November 1901, 4.

 'The New Land to the Old: A Greeting by Telephone', _New Zealand Graphic and Ladies' Journal_ , December 1899, 1.

 Herbert A. R. Huggins, 'Only a Maori', _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1893, 15–17 (illustration on p. 17).

 _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1894, 17.

 _Auckland Star_ , 5 October 1904, 11.

 'Personal Items', _Press_ , 21 July 1909, 7.

 _Evening Post_ , 28 December 1904, 5; 'News of the Day', _Press_ , 30 December 1904, 4.

 _Evening Post_ , 31 July 1905, 4.

 _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1901, 35.

 _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1906, 1.

 _New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1902, 16, 37.

 Trevor Lloyd, 'Bush Visions', _New Zealand Listener_ , 24 September 1983, 35.

 'Death of an Artist: Mr. Trevor Lloyd: Popular Cartoonist', _New Zealand Herald_ , 13 September 1937, 11.

 Peter Shaw, 'Trevor Lloyd, Warts and All', _Metro_ , November 1983, 165.

 Elsdon Best, 'In the Trail of the Kawau Maro', _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ , 1 October 1901, 29–38; 1 November 1901, 116–26.

 'Society of Arts', _New Zealand Herald_ , 9 May 1907, 6. Priced at ten guineas, _Te Tangi o te Moa_ remained unsold in 1907; the watercolour was bequeathed by Connie Lloyd to the Auckland Art Gallery in 1983. For an illustration of the work, see Roger Blackley, _Two Centuries of New Zealand Landscape Art_ , Auckland: Auckland City Art Gallery, 1990, 63.

 Shaw, 'Trevor Lloyd, Warts and All'.

 Ibid.

 Lloyd, 'Bush Visions'.

 Matthew Basso, 'Trevor Lloyd, Native Land, and the Contest over European Racial Imagination in New Zealand', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 37, 2004, 68–86.

 Ibid., 75.

 Ibid., 77. Basso refers to 'three Māori men enjoying a bottle of rum', when they are two men and a woman.

 For the published version of the cartoon, see 'A Visit to the Auckland Society of Arts' Exhibition by our Comic Artist', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 20 July 1905, supplement, 5.

 'Some Impressions of the Auckland Society of Arts' 26th Annual Exhibition', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 25 April 1907, supplement, 7.

 'Our Comic Artist's Impressions of the Auckland Society of Arts Annual Exhibition', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 21 May 1908, supplement, 5. Immediately above the central image is an image of a pipe-smoking figure, titled 'The curly headed coon', which Basso identifies as Goldie.

 'Comic Sketches at the Auckland Society of Arts' Annual Exhibition, Opened at Auckland, May 19, 1909', _Auckland Weekly News_ , 27 May 1909, 11. The original 1909 drawing is now lost.

 _A Lesson in Natural History_ was exhibited at the 1937 exhibition of the Auckland Society of Arts, priced at two guineas.

 H. W. Orsman (ed.), _The Dictionary of New Zealand English: A Dictionary of New Zealandisms on Historical Principles_ , Auckland: Oxford University Press, 1997, 476–77.

 _Te Toff_ , dated to the 1920s, is in the collection of Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki (1983/40/16).

 Trevor Lloyd, 'Icons of the Bush: Etchings of Trevor Lloyd', undated typescript [c. 1985], Auckland Art Gallery, 57.

 D. R. Simmons to Trevor Lloyd, 4 March 1982, Ethnology Department archives, Auckland War Memorial Museum.

 In October 2012, when I visited Auckland Museum to inspect items donated by Trevor Lloyd and the estate of Connie Lloyd, the greenstone could not be located (although the wooden case Lloyd made for it remains). Hikitia Barton, Collection Manager Taonga Māori, generously provided access to collection items and associated archives.

 Lloyd, 'Icons of the Bush', 59. A 'wood and paua carved firescreen', lent by the artist's great-nephew to a Lloyd exhibition at the Rotorua Art Gallery, is illustrated in the _Daily Post_ (Rotorua), 13 September 1983.

 Mona Gordon, 'Trevor Lloyd – pioneer etcher of the New Zealand Forest' [c. 1930], in 'The Early Artists of New Zealand', undated typescript, MS-Papers-5059-03, 80, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington.

 Ibid., 81.

 Ibid., 82.

 Basso, 'Trevor Lloyd', 71.

 'Maori Relics: Discovery in a Cave', _Evening Post_ , 28 April 1928, 28.

 Gordon, 'Trevor Lloyd', 80.

 '"Desecration": Maori Burial Cave, North Auckland District: Indignation Expressed', _Auckland Star_ , 21 June 1933, 9; George Graham, 'Maori Burial Sites', _Auckland Star_ , 11 July 1933, 6; George Graham, 'Tribal Tapu: A Plea for the Aggrieved', _Auckland Star_ , 27 September 1935, 6.

 'Desecration: Graves of Maoris: Resentment in Waikato', _Auckland Star_ , 31 October 1936, 6.

 Terence Barrow and H. D. Skinner, 'The Faking of Maori Art', in H. D. Skinner, _Comparatively Speaking: Studies in Pacific Material Culture 1921–1972_ , Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 1974, 191.

 'Waiata of Farewell: Special Maori Song', _Auckland Star_ , 2 January 1930, 5.

 James Cowan, 'Orakei's Bugle', _Auckland Star_ , 3 January 1935, 6.

 Lloyd, 'Bush Visions', 35.

### **8 COSMOPOLITAN MAORILAND**

 Bronwyn Elsmore, _Like Them That Dream: The Maori and the Old Testament_ , Tauranga: Tauranga Moana Press, 1985.

 'Ingiki', _Press_ , 23 June 1865, 2.

 'The Native Meeting at Waitara', _New Zealand Herald_ , 4 July 1878, 3.

 'Tawhiao and the Government', _New Zealand Herald_ , 16 February 1894, 6.

 Thomas Babington Macaulay, reviewing von Ranke's _History of the Popes_ [ _Edinburgh Review_ , October 1840], quoted in William Colenso, 'A Few Remarks on the Hackneyed Quotation of "Macaulay's New Zealander"', in _Three Literary Papers Read Before the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute during the Session of 1882_ , Napier: Daily Telegraph Office, 1883, 37–38.

 'The retirement of this veteran is indispensable. He can no longer be suffered to impede the traffic over London Bridge. Much wanted at the present time in his own country. May return when London is in ruins.' 'A Proclamation', _Punch_ , 7 January 1865, 9. In 1904 the _Saturday Review_ included Macaulay's New Zealander in an 'index expurgatorius' of 'outworn tags'. 'Books and their Writers', _Grey River Argus_ , 9 July 1904, 4.

 Colenso, 'A Few Remarks on the Hackneyed Quotation of "Macaulay's New Zealander"'.

 Ibid., 40 (emphasis in original).

 _Punch_ , as quoted by William Colenso, 'Macaulay's New Zealander on London Bridge', _New Zealander_ , 26 March 1864, 5 (emphasis in original).

 W. T. Masefield, 'The Outcome of the Present Civilization', _New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ , 1, 8, May 1900, 587–90.

 Robert Dingley, 'The Ruins of the Future: Macaulay's New Zealander and the Spirit of the Age', in Alan Sandison and Robert Dingley (eds), _Histories of the Future: Studies in Fact, Fantasy and Science Fiction_ , Houndmills (UK) and New York: Palgrave, 2000.

 Ibid., 16–17.

 J. A. Froude, _Oceana, or, England and her Colonies_ , London: Longmans, Green, 1886, 236–37.

 The extraordinary text on the reverse of the postcard, sent openly through the post from Melbourne on 14 May 1906 to Miss E. M. Bowman of Mangaw[h]ai, reads: 'Hope you are having a good time with your coloured coon. How does he suit? Am having a fly round Melbourne just now. All the Japanese men of war are in port and the town is full of monkeys. Let's hear from you soon. Syd.' That Syd is a New Zealander familiar with the Māori language is suggested by his annotation on the face of the postcard. 'Kapai te kotero [kōtiro]' ('The chick is cool').

 'Anglo-Colonial Notes', _Press_ , 15 April 1898, 5.

 'Popularising New Zealand Produce: A Banquet to the Premier', _Press_ , 18 August 1897, 5.

 Ibid.

 Ibid.

 Jane Stafford, 'Katherine Mansfield's Hei Tiki', in Annabel Cooper, Lachy Paterson and Angela Wanhalla (eds), _The Lives of Colonial Objects_ , Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2015, 206–11.

 _Wanganui Herald_ , 26 January 1904, 5.

 Chanel Clarke, 'A Māori Perspective on the Wearing of Black', in Doris de Pont (ed.), _Black: The History of Black in Fashion, Society and Culture in New Zealand_ , Auckland: Penguin, 2012, 52.

 'Tawhiao in London', _Auckland Evening Star_ , 10 October 1884, 2.

 'Passing Notes', _Otago Witness_ , 12 May 1883, 17.

 Ibid.

 _Observer_ , 4 February 1882, 322.

 'Tawhiao's Movements', _New Zealand Herald_ , 25 January 1882, 5.

 Alex Calder, 'F. E. Maning and the European Construction of Tapu', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 26, 1 and 2, 1993, 77–89.

 Ibid.

 'The Observer Cartoon: No. 6 – Tawhiao, The Maori King', _Observer_ , 4 February 1882, 337; Joseph Nash, 'The Maori Difficulty in New Zealand – Visit of King Tawhiao and his Followers to Auckland', _Graphic_ , 25 July 1882, 114.

 _New Zealand Herald_ , 21 January 1882, 4.

 Vincent O'Malley, _Haerenga: Early Māori Journeys Across the Globe_ , Wellington: Bridget Williams Books, 2015.

 'Tawhiao in Auckland', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 April 1884, 6.

 Ibid. It was Sir George Grey who persuaded Tāwhiao to take the vow of temperance. 'Blue Ribbon Movement', _Kumara Times_ , 26 March 1884, 2; 'Tawhiao's Farewell', _Star_ , 2 April 1884, 3.

 'Tawhiao in Auckland'.

 'Tawhiao on his Travels', _New Zealand Herald_ , 28 April 1884, 4.

 See Claudia Orange, _The Treaty of Waitangi_ , Wellington: Allen & Unwin in association with Port Nicholson Press, 1987, 211–16. For a finely grained account of the social dimensions of their three-month sojourn in the metropolis, see Roger Blackley, 'King Tāwhiao's Big O. E.', _Turnbull Library Record_ , 44, 2012, 36–52. Despite citing this essay in an earlier article on James Cowan, Michael Belgrave's recent book on the King Country – which includes a chapter on Tāwhiao's visit to London – fails to mention it ( _Dancing with the King: The Rise and Fall of the King Country, 1864–1885_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2017).

 For the media context of the 1882 visit of Cetshwayo and later African envoys, see Neil Parsons, '"No Longer Rare Birds in London": Zulu, Ndebele, Gaza, and Swazi Envoys to England, 1882–1894', in Gretchen Holbrook Gerzina (ed.), _Black Victorians, Black Victoriana_ , New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2003, 110–41.

 'A Newspaper Interviewer and Tawhiao', _Taranaki Herald_ , 27 October 1894, 2: '"Those newspaper men are just like fleas, and you can't get rid of them easily, for they will not leave you alone."' Tāwhiao's protest letter appeared in the _Daily News_ , 18 July 1884, 6: 'I appeal to you on behalf of myself and brother chiefs to protect us against misrepresentation.'

 _Westminster Gazette_ , quoted by Parsons in '"No Longer Rare Birds in London"', 112.

 This was Edwin Preston of the Australasian Press Agency, who assisted Tāwhiao and his group to locate their accommodation. 'Anglo-Colonial Notes', _Auckland Star_ , 22 July 1884, 2.

 'Our London Letter', _Star_ , 17 November 1886, 2.

 'The Late King of the Maoris', _Black & White_, 8 September 1894, 294.

 'Painting Tawhiao's Portrait', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 November 1884, supplement, 2.

 'Our London Letter', _Penny Illustrated Paper_ , 23 August 1884, 115.

 'Anglo-Colonial Notes', _Auckland Star_ , 16 September 1884, 2.

 'Pars about People', _Observer_ , 14 May 1904, 4.

 'News from Home', _Feilding Star_ , 21 December 1901, 4. For her career, see Tony Chadwick, 'Howie, Fanny Rose, 1868–1916', in _Dictionary of New Zealand Biography_ , 3, 1996, 235–36.

 'News from Home'.

 Alison Drummond (ed.), _The Thames Journals of Vicesimus Lush 1868–82_ , Christchurch: Pegasus, 1975, 264–65.

 For confirmation, see 'Concert at the Academy of Music', _Thames Advertiser_ , 14 December 1877, 3, and 'Thames Fire Brigade Concert', _Thames Star_ , 12 September 1889, 2.

 'Pars about People', _Observer_ , 14 May 1904, 4.

 Ibid.

 'Auckland Society of Arts Exhibition', _New Zealand Herald_ , 1 November 1901, 3.

 E. S. G., 'The Aucklanders', _Otago Witness_ , 5 November 1902, 69.

 For an account of the provisions made for accommodating Māori visitors to urban centres, see Ben Schrader, 'Native Hostelries in New Zealand's Colonial Cities', _Journal of New Zealand Studies_ , NS25, 2017, 16–39.

 'Maori Marriage Customs: Not Liable to the Law', _Wanganui Herald_ , 8 September 1909, 5.

 Lindauer Online, <http://www.lindaueronline.co.nz/visitors-book/pages-019-020>. On the same day as her visit, it was noted in the newspaper that Katerina had been asked to interpret for an elite Ngāpuhi deputation planning to visit England the following year, _Auckland Star_ , 3 September 1901, 5.

 'Pars about People', _Observer_ , 14 May 1904, 4.

 _New Zealand Official Year-Book, 1911_ , Wellington: Government Printer, 1911, 583. For the complexities of racial enumeration in this period, see Ian D. Pool, _The Maori Population of New Zealand, 1769–1971_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press and Oxford University Press, 1977, and Ian D. Pool, _Te Iwi Maori: A New Zealand Population, Past, Present & Projected_, Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1991.

 Helen M. Hogan, 'Stories of Travel: He Kōrero ēnei mō te Haerenga', 2 vols, PhD thesis, Māori Studies, University of Canterbury, 1994.

 Hogan, 'Stories of Travel', 1, 127 (emphasis in original; macrons as applied by Hogan).

 Ibid (macrons as applied by Hogan).

 Ibid., 1, 208. Hogan dedicated her first book to Kōhere and a fellow traveller who wrote about his experiences: _Hikurangi ki Homburg: Henare Kohere and Terei Ngatai with the Maori Coronation Contingent, 1902_ , Christchurch: Clerestory Press, 1997.

 Hogan, 'Stories of Travel', 1, 217 (macrons as applied by Hogan).

 Ibid., 1, 219 (macrons as applied by Hogan).

 Ibid., 1, 232 (macrons as applied by Hogan).

 Ibid.

 Ibid., 1, 236.

 Helen M. Hogan, _Bravo Neu Zeeland: Two Maori in Vienna 1859–1860_ , Christchurch: Clerestory Press, 2003.

 'Voyage of the Novara', _Nelson Examiner and New Zealand Chronicle_ , 26 November 1863, 3.

 'Ko nga Mihi tenei mo te Kuini', the Address to Queen Victoria by Wiremu Toetoe and Hēmara Rerehau, was transcribed by Hochstetter; see Hogan, _Bravo Neu Zeeland_ , 113.

 'Maori Report of the Speeches at the Meeting at Peria', _Taranaki Herald_ , 20 December 1862, 3.

 'Tawhiao and Party at Orakei', _New Zealand Herald_ , 19 January 1882, 5.

 The letter from Hochstetter was replying to one from Rerehau transmitted through Dr Otto Finsch, a German naturalist who visited New Zealand in 1881. Ibid.

### **9 MAORILAND IN FOCUS**

 For the astonishing number of publications from this period that included 'Maoriland' in their titles, see Jonathon Easthope, 'Imaging Ourselves: The Projection of Pakeha Culture Overseas 1870–1925', MA thesis, History, Victoria University of Wellington, 1995, 92–93.

 'What is a Native? A Question of Name', _Evening Post_ , 8 October 1908, 3.

 'Correspondence: Maoria, Maoriania, or Maoriland', _Otago Witness_ , 2 October 1880, 12.

 Sumner Grove, 'Aotearoa: What's in a Name?' _Auckland Star_ , 9 October 1926, 40.

 James Cowan, 'The Maori Name "Aotearoa"', _Evening Post_ , 2 November 1907, 13, in reply to 'Literary Column', _Evening Post_ , 26 October 1907, 13.

 Henry M. Stowell [Hāre Hongi], 'The Name "Aotearoa": What it Means and How Applied', _Evening Post_ , 26 November 1907, 4. See also H. D. Bennett, 'Maori Traditions', _Evening Post_ , 30 August 1937, 8; Horace Fildes, 'Ao-tea-roa', _Evening Post_ , 3 September 1937, 8; 'Aotearoa: Not Aotea-roa, nor Ao-tea-roa', _Evening Post_ , 11 May 1939, 12; J. S. Webb, 'Aotearoa', _Evening Post_ , 15 May 1939, 8; Johannes Andersen, 'Aotearoa: A Poetic Name: How Kupe Gave It and Why', _Evening Post_ , 20 May 1939, 7.

 Sidney Moko Mead, 'Nga Timunga me nga Paringa o te Mana Maori', in Mead (ed.), _Te Maori: Maori Art from New Zealand Collections_ , Auckland: Heinemann, 1984, 20–36.

 Ibid., 33.

 Mead (ed.), _Te Maori_ , 207.

 While I am unaware of any Māori scholar addressing this problem in print, it is noteworthy that Ngahuia Te Awekotuku's _Mau Moko_ , a magisterial account of Māori tattoo, effectively delivers a sentence of _damnatio memoriæ_. None of Simmons' several books on the topic appears in her bibliography and no reference to Simmons appears anywhere in the book.

 Walter Buller, 'The Story of Papaitonga; or, A Page of Maori History', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 26, 1894, 573.

 Walter Buller, 'Observations on Some Peculiar Maori Remains, with Remarks on the Ancient Institution of _Tapu_ ', _Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , 27, 1895, 153.

 John Alexander Wilson, _The Story of Te Waharoa; a chapter in Early New Zealand History, together with Sketches of Ancient Maori Life and History_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1907, xiii.

 Buller, 'Observations on Some Peculiar Maori Remains', 149.

 For Buller's machinations in 'The Horowhenua Case', see Ross Galbreath, _Walter Buller: The Reluctant Conservationist_ , Wellington: GP Books, 1989, 216–33.

 E.-T. Hamy, 'Études ethnographiques et archéologiques sur l'Exposition Coloniale et Indienne à Londres', _Revue d'Ethnographie_ , 5, Paris: 1886, 333–544. For New Zealand, see 354–60, including Hamy's reference to Lindauer as 'un artiste juif [Jewish]' (359). On the wider collection donated by Buller to Paris, see J. E. de la Croix, 'La Collection Buller au Musée du Trocadéro', _Revue d'Ethnographie_ , 6, Paris: 1887, 172–76. For Buller's award, see the correspondence relating to donations by Sir Walter Buller (Musée du quai Branly, 87.23.1).

 'The Future of New Zealand: An Interview with Sir Walter Buller', _Sala's Magazine_ [1893], Sir Walter Buller Papers, Scrapbook, qMS-0327, vol. 1, Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, reprinted _Star_ , 23 September 1892, 1.

 Felix von Luschan, 'Über zwei alte Canoe-Schnitzwerke aus Neu-Seeland', _Ethnologisches Notizblatt_ , 2, 1895, 1–5, plate 1.

 R. K. Dell, 'Hamilton, Augustus, 1853–1913', _Dictionary of New Zealand Biography_ , 2, 1993, 189–90; for an account of his early career, see Elizabeth Pishief, 'Augustus Hamilton: Appropriation, Ownership and Authority', MA thesis, Museum Studies, Massey University, 1998, especially Chapter 2, 'Hamilton to 1900'.

 Pishief, 'Augustus Hamilton: Appropriation, Ownership and Authority', 161.

 Conal McCarthy, _Exhibiting Māori: A History of Colonial Cultures of Display_ , Wellington: Te Papa Press, 2007, 55.

 Ross O'Rourke, 'The Hamilton/McDonald 1/1 Plate Catalogue in the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa', 5 vols, Wellington: Museum of New Zealand, 2008: for Tūreiti Te Heuheu Tūkino, see 1, 216–21; for Hepi Kahotea Te Heuheu, 1, 222–27.

 This work has been commenced by Athol McCredie, in 'Collecting Photographs: The Development of Te Papa's Historical Photography Collection', _Tuhinga_ , 20, 2009, 41–66, and 'From Them to Us: Changing Meanings of Photographs of Māori at Te Papa', in Elizabeth Edwards and Chris Morton (eds), _Photographs, Museums, Collections: Between Art and Information_ , London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014, 195–212.

 Peter Gibbons, '"Going Native": A Case Study of Cultural Appropriation in a Settler Society, With Particular Reference to the Activities of Johannes Andersen in New Zealand during the First Half of the Twentieth Century', DPhil thesis, History, University of Waikato, 1992.

 Johannes C. Andersen, _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1907, x.

 For an account of this context, see Leonard Bell, _Colonial Constructs: European Images of Maori 1840–1914_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1992.

 Andersen, _Maori Life in Ao-tea_ , vii.

 Leonard Bell, in _Colonial Constructs_ (206), and Jane Stafford and Mark Williams in _Maoriland: New Zealand Literature, 1872–1914_ (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2006, 260), misquote this extraordinary sentence by eliminating the 'a'. Bell suggests that Ngata has 'internalised' the discourse around Māori degeneration, while Stafford and Williams claim he was writing 'dejectedly'.

 'The Maori in Art', _Press_ , 7 March 1908, 7.

 Ibid.

 Ibid.

 'The Maori and Art', _Star_ , 16 May 1908, 4. Andersen further argued that 'the primitive decorative forms of the Maori could be utilised by modern designers'. In his doctoral thesis, Gibbons argued that Andersen's influence was registered most strongly on the Christchurch artists Sydney L. Thompson and Richard Wallwork. '"Going Native"', 115–16.

 'The Exhibition Ode', in James Cowan, _Official Record of the New Zealand International Exhibition of Arts and Industries_ , Wellington: Government Printer, 1910, 83–84.

 'Gathering of the Savage Club', _Star_ , 14 October 1909, 4.

 Peter Gibbons, 'Andersen, Johannes Carl, 1873–1962', in _Dictionary of New Zealand Biography_ , 3, 1996, 15.

 'Maori Music: Mr Alfred Hill's Views', _Press_ , 14 March 1908, 7.

 Hill's song 'Waiata Poi' became a staple in the Māori concert performances organised by his friend Maggie Papakura.

 'Maori Music: Mr Alfred Hill's Views'.

 'Tapu', _Wanganui Chronicle_ , 10 September 1902, 5.

 'Maori Music: Mr Alfred Hill's Views'.

 Melissa Cross, 'The Forgotten Soundtrack of Maoriland: Imagining the Nation through Alfred Hill's Songs for Rewi's Last Stand', MMus, Te Kōkī New Zealand School of Music, 2015, 73–101.

 M. P. K. Sorrenson (ed.), _Na To Hoa Aroha, From Your Dear Friend: The Correspondence between Sir Apirana Ngata and Sir Peter Buck, 1925–50_ , 3 vols, Auckland: Auckland University Press, 1987, 2, 57.

 For an appreciative Māori perspective on Cowan's historical methodology, see Paul Meredith, 'Tēnā Koe, Hēmi Kāwana: A Ngāti Maniapoto Half-Caste from Kihikihi Greets Mr James Cowan', in Annabel Cooper and Ariana Tikao (eds), _James Cowan and the Legacies of Late Colonial Culture in New Zealand_ , special issue of the _Journal of New Zealand Studies_ , NS19, 2015, 5–15.

 James Cowan, _The Maoris of New Zealand_ , Christchurch: Whitcombe & Tombs, 1910, vii.

 Ibid., 1.

 Ibid., 7.

 Ibid.

 Ariana Tikao, 'Borderland, from Archive to Gallery: Working on James Cowan's Papers', in Cooper and Tikao (eds), _James Cowan and the Legacies of Late Colonial Culture in New Zealand_ , 16–27.

 Chris Hilliard, _The Bookmen's Dominion: Cultural Life in New Zealand 1920–1950_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2006.

 James Cowan, 'Goldie's Collection', _Auckland Star_ , 6 November 1920, 17, and 13 November 1920, 17.

 For transcriptions of Goldie's surviving letters to Cowan, see Roger Blackley, _Goldie_ , Auckland: Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki and David Bateman, 1997, 183–87. The original manuscripts are among the Eric Ramsden Papers at the Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington (MS-Papers-196), except for the first and final letters which are held in the E. H. McCormick Research Library at the Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki.

 Goldie to Cowan, 5 November 1935, E. H. McCormick Research Library, Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki.

 Goldie was scandalised that Cowan had been left off the distribution of the King's Jubilee Medal in 1934, when Andersen and the historian John Rawson Elder had both been honoured. Blackley, _Goldie_ , 184.

 Telemachus, 'The New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition', _Argus_ , 27 November 1889, 8. On Myers' celebrity as 'Telemachus', and his championing of contemporary artists, see Tim Bonyhady, _The Colonial Earth_ , Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2000.

 Telemachus, 'The New Zealand Exhibition', _Argus_ , 4 December 1889, 4.

 Telemachus, 'The New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition', _Argus_ , 27 November 1889, 8.

 Telemachus, 'The New Zealand Exhibition', _Argus_ , 4 December 1889, 4.

 Ibid.

 Ibid.

 Ibid.

 Ibid.

 Ron Palenski, _The Making of New Zealanders_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2012, 140.

 Miles Fairburn, 'Is there a Good Case for New Zealand Exceptionalism?', in Tony Ballantyne and Brian Moloughney (eds), _Disputed Histories: Imagining New Zealand's Past_ , Dunedin: Otago University Press, 2006, 143–67.

 David W. Forbes, _Encounters with Paradise: Views of Hawaii and its People, 1778–1941_ , Honolulu: Honolulu Academy of Arts and University of Hawaii Press, 1992.

 Brian W. Dippie, _Catlin and His Contemporaries: The Politics of Patronage_ , Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press, 1990. For an account of Catlin's collecting, see 'Integrating the "Indian": The Indigenous American Collections of George Catlin and Paul Kane', in Daniel J. Rycroft (ed.), _World Art and the Legacies of Colonial Violence_ , Aldergate: Ashgate Publishing, 2013, 59–82.

 Stephanie Pratt, 'George Catlin and the Representation of North American Indians', in Stephanie Pratt and Joan Carpenter Troccoli, _George Catlin: American Indian Portraits_ , London: National Portrait Gallery, 2013, 24–25.

 _The West as America_ , a major exhibition of 'western' art mounted in 1991 at the Smithsonian's National Museum of American Art, became engulfed in controversy over the frankness of its interpretive strategy. William H. Truettner, _The West as America: Reinterpreting Images of the Frontier, 1820–1920_ , Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991. For a critical appraisal of the controversy, see Alan Wallach, 'The Battle over "The West as America"', in Marcia Pointon (ed.), _Art apart: Art Institutions and Ideology across England and North America_ , Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1994, 89–101.

 American Indian reclamation of a photographic heritage is another story altogether, which does chime with the Māori situation. As Comanche scholar Paul Chaat Smith puts it: 'We've been using photography for our own ends as long as . . . there have been cameras. . . . So it shouldn't be a surprise that everything about being Indian has been shaped by the camera.' Paul Chaat Smith, _Everything You Know about Indians Is Wrong_ , Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 2009, 4.

 A. H. McLintock, _National Centennial Exhibition of New Zealand Art: Catalogue_ , Wellington: Department of Internal Affairs, 1940, 16.

 P. A. Tomory, 'The Visual Arts', in Keith Sinclair (ed.), _Distance Looks our Way: The Effects of Remoteness on New Zealand_ , Auckland: Paul's Book Arcade, 1961, 63.

 Tomory, 'The Visual Arts', 65.

 A. H. McLintock, 'Art in New Zealand', in McLintock (ed.), _An Encyclopaedia of New Zealand_ , 3 vols, Wellington: Government Printer, 1966, 1, 82–86.

 Ibid., 85.

 Ibid.

 J. M. McEwen, 'Maori Art', in McLintock (ed), _An Encyclopaedia of New Zealand_ , 2, 408–29.

### **CONCLUSION**

 I am grateful to paintings conservator Carolina Izzo for the invitation to view this painting while it was undergoing conservation in her studio, and to the Wikitōria Keepa Mete Kingi Whānau Trust for authorising its reproduction.

 Jane Stafford and Mark Williams, _Maoriland: New Zealand Literature 1872–1914_ , Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2006.

 Richard Boast, _Buying the Land, Selling the Land: Governments and Maori Land in the North Island, 1865–1921_ , Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2008.

 For an account of the trajectory of the reception of Goldie's work, from the pinnacle of early success, to the nadir of critical relegation in the middle decades of the twentieth century, and finally to re-evaluation of the 1980s and 1990s, see Roger Blackley, _Goldie_ , Auckland: Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tāmaki and David Bateman, 1997, 36–57.

 For a particularly pointed attack on Goldie, see Lloyd's 1924 caricature of Archibald Fisher – the incoming head of Elam School of Fine Art – sweeping the Auckland Art Gallery clear of moribund art. Ibid., 32.

 Gibbon, cited by David Skilton, 'Tourists at the Ruins of London: The Metropolis and the Struggle for Empire', _Cercles_ , 17, 2007, 97.

 'Cannibal Britons: Early Englishman Ate His Brother', _New Zealand Herald_ , 22 July 1899, 2.

 'With Apologies to Macaulay: Before Quitting England, Our Guest Heroically Fulfils His Destiny', _Funny Folks_ , 2 August 1884. Seddon quipped, 'in view of the fine physique of the Maori, that no broken arch would support his weight', 'Macaulay's and the Other New Zealander', _Evening Post_ , 18 September 1897, supplement, 2, quoted in Ron Palenski, _The Making of New Zealanders_ , Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2012, 3.

 For Cowan's collection of Paratene Te Manu's autobiography, see Roger Blackley, 'The Plutarch of Maoriland: James Cowan and _Pictures of Old New Zealand'_ , in Annabel Cooper and Ariana Tikao (eds), _James Cowan and the Legacies of Late Colonial Culture in New Zealand_ , special issue of the _Journal of New Zealand Studies_ , NS19, 2015, 119–20. While Lindauer painted Wharepapa and Paratene from _carte-de-visite_ photographs, the novel that Paula Morris based on Cowan's text – for obvious narrative purpose – has her ancestor Paratene physically sitting for Lindauer ( _Hibiscus Coast_ , Auckland: Penguin, 2005).

 Kamariera Te Wharepapa to C. F. Goldie, 1 July 1907, C. F. Goldie, Scrapbooks and Other Papers, Scrapbook XIII, 177, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library, quoted in Blackley, _Goldie_ , 19.

 'Ki a Ina kei Waipapa', Tarorehua Kaiwaka to Īna Te Papatahi, 15 March 1904, C. F. Goldie, Scrapbooks and Other Papers, Scrapbook XIII, 182, Auckland War Memorial Museum Library, quoted in Blackley, _Goldie_ , 18.

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## _Index_

Page references in **bold** refer to illustrations

Adams, Arthur, –37

Adams, Mark

_Poupou depicting Maui entering Hinenuitepo, who crushes him to death, carved by Tene Waitere for Rauru_ , ****

_Poupou depicting Maui fishing up Te-Ika-a-Maui, carved by Tene Waitere for Rauru_ , ****

Akarana Maori Association, ,

Albu, Julie and Rose,

Alexander Turnbull Library, x

_Borderland: The World of James Cowan_ (2014), –39

Johannes C. Andersen and, , ,

Trevor Lloyd collections,

Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin,

America; comparative ethnology, , , , , , –45,

American Fleet visit 1908, ,

_Te Maori_ exhibition in,

_An Old-time Warrior_ in _New Zealand Graphic_ ,

Andersen, Johannes C., , , ,

'Exhibition Ode' (1906), –23, , , –36

_Maori Life in Ao-tea_ (1907), **** , –37

Angas, George French, vii, , –62,

Pōtatau Te Wherowhero, watercolour of,

Antoine Claudet Studio. _See_ Claudet, Antoine

Aotearoa, meanings of,

Apanui (kotiate or short club),

Āraiteuru (model pā), , –17, –21

child named after,

pātaka from,

as performance venue, –25,

Te Aumapu (adze),

_see also_ New Zealand International Exhibition, Christchurch

_Armour Presented to Titore_ , , ****

_Arrival of Captain Cook_. _See_ Steele, Louis J.; Watkins, Kennett

Art, Curio and Industrial Exhibition, Gisborne 1909, –31

art galleries and museums, overseas, , , , , **** , –43,

Art Students' Association. _See_ New Zealand Art Students' Association

Aryan Māori theory, , , –62, , ,

_Aryan Maori, The_ , **** ,

_see also_ Māori origin theories,

Association for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Maori Race. _See_ Young Maori Party

Aston, Murray,

Auckland Academy of Art, –67,

_see also_ French Academy of Art, Auckland

Auckland Art Gallery, vii–viii

acquisitions, , ,

Charles F. Goldie collection, , **** ,

Partridge Collection,

Sir George Grey collection, vii–viii, ,

_Te Maori: Te Hokinga Mai_ , viii,

Trevor Lloyd collection,

Auckland Exhibition (1898–99),

Auckland Free School of Art (Auckland Museum),

Auckland Institute and Museum, , , ,

acquisitions, , , ,

Gilbert Mair Collection, , –34, **** , **** , ****

King Tāwhiao and, , , –13

tangi for,

Maori Hall (He Taonga Māori), viii, **** ,

Sir George Grey collection,

Trevor Lloyd collection,

_see also_ Auckland Free School of Art

Auckland Mechanics' Institute,

Auckland Society of Arts, , , , ,

exhibitions, , ,

'Picture of the Year' 1912,

Trevor Lloyd and, , , –95, ****

_Auckland Weekly News_ ,

_Arrival of Captain Cook_ , , ****

posthumous photograph in,

Trevor Lloyd and, , **** , –93

'Australasiennes' _. See_ Harding and Billings

Australia; comparative ethnology, , –45

Austria, Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of, ,

_Autochthones. See_ Māori origin theories

Ballantyne, Tony,

Barker, Alfred Charles,

_Moa Skeleton Display, New Zealand Room, Canterbury Museum_ , 1870, ****

Barnes, Felicity,

Barraud, C. D., , , ,

Barstow, Robert C., , –32, ,

Basso, Matthew, –94,

Baucke, William, , –65

Begg, Samuel: _The New Zealand Banquet at the Holborn Restaurant: Maori Warriors Performing the 'Haka' War-dance_ , ****

Bell, Leonard, –12, ,

on Steele, , , ,

Bennett, Rev. Frederick, ,

Bernhardt, Sarah, –47

Best, Elsdon, , , , , , ,

_The Maori As He Was_ ,

_Black & White_ magazine: _Tawhiao, the Late King of the Maoris, from the Painting by H. C. Seppings Wright_ , ****

Blaikie, J. A.,

Blomfield, William, , , , ,

on taonga leaving NZ, –50, , –55

Boon, James A.,

_Borderland: The World of James Cowan_ (2014), –39

Bowen, George,

British Museum, , , , , , , , –58

British royal family, , , –58

and Māori in London, , , ,

in New Zealand 1901, , , ,

Walter Buller and Prince of Wales, –36

_see also_ Queen Victoria

Brock, Adam,

Brown, Major (Tūnuiārangi),

Buchanan, John (after W. B. D. Mantell): _Takiroa Caves, Looking North to Punaamokatore across the Rise_ , , ****

Buck, Peter (Te Rangi Hīroa), , , ,

in performance, , , ****

'The Auckland Domain Model Pa Bill', –22

Buller, Laura,

Buller, Leopold (Leo), , ,

Buller, Walter Lawry, , , , –81, –31, ****

collections, , –81,

Colonial and Indian Exhibition 1886, –16, –36

knighted, –36

and Lindauer, , ,

in London,

_Bulletin_ (Sydney), , , ****

burial chests (waka tūpāpaku) as curios, **** , , **** ,  _see also_ tombs; wāhi tapu

Burton, Alfred,

Butterworth, James, ,

Butterworth, Mary,

_see also_ Kennington, Mary

Byrnes, Giselle,

Cairns, Adam,

calabashes, –58, ****

_Calabash with Carved Mouthpiece_ , ****

_Mouthpiece of Calabash_ , ****

Canterbury, Philosophical Institute of, –51 _passim_

Canterbury Museum, –56, **** , **** , ,

Hau-te-ana-nui-o-Tangaroa (wharenui), –56

_Maori Room_ in, ****

Canterbury Society of Arts

_A Hot Day_ (Goldie, 1901), ,

_One of the Old School_ (Goldie, 1900),

Carnell, Samuel,

_Augustus Hamilton with Carved Poupou from Heretaunga, Commissioned by Karaitiana Takamoana_ (c. 1889), ****

_Group of Carvings and Weapons_ , **** ,

Carnival (child's name). _See_ New Plymouth Carnival and Industrial Exhibition 1904–5

Carroll, James, , , –81, ,

and Christchurch exhibition, –16

lament for Richard Seddon,

memorial to Tamahau Mahupuku, , ****

carved structures. _See_ pātaka; wharenui; wharepuni

carvers, carving, , , , , –17, –21, –52, –98,

_see also_ Heberley, Jacob; Waitere, Tene

carvings, **ii** , **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , , **** , **** , **** , ****

contentious, –21, ,

eel-god carving, –61, **** ,

excavated, , **, ,** ,

Madonna and Child (carved figure), , ****

_Panneaux de Case_ [house panels], ****

Pūkākī (gateway figure), ****

_Ta Moko Panel_ , , ****

_see also_ poupou; wharenui

Chamberlain, Pāora,

Chapman, Frederick R., , –42

Cheeseman, Thomas, ,

Christchurch International Exhibition 1906–7. _See_ New Zealand International Exhibition, Christchurch, 1906–7

Christchurch Savage Club,

chromolithography. _See_ printing processes

Clark, Kate McCosh,

Clarke, Chanel,

Claudet, Antoine, , , ****

clothing, , , , **** , , –20

cross-cultural transvestism, –10, ****

_see also Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_ ; portraiture

_see also_ portraiture

Coffin, Johnny ('Nga Kawhena'), –74

Colenso, William, , , , –5

Colonial and Indian Exhibition 1886, –16, –37,

Land Tenure Map at,

_Life Size Portrait of Tawhiao, the Maori King_ (1884), –17, ****

Colonial Museum, Wellington, , , –35, ,

Augustus Hamilton at, ,

_see also_ Dominion Museum; Te Papa

Conveyance agreement between Hema Te Ao & Ropata Te Ao and James Gear, 5 November 1878, ****

Conveyance agreement between Hema Te Ao & Ropata Te Ao and James Gear, showing the Māori-language 'Abstract of Contents,' ****

Cornwall, Duke of. _See_ British royal family

Cousins, Thomas Selby, –52,

_Ancient Rock Paintings, Weka Pass Range near Waikari_ , **–53**

_Maori Rock Drawings in the Weka Pass, North Canterbury_ (1876), , ****

Cowan, James, , , , , , –39,

and Christchurch Exhibition, –16,

_James Cowan, with a Moko Drawn in Pen_ , –39, ****

relationships with Māori, –23, –98, , –1

Cowan, James: works referenced

_The Maoris of New Zealand_ (1910), –39

_New Zealand, or Ao-teä-roa (The Long Bright World)_ (1907),

_The New Zealand Wars: A History of the Maori Campaigns and the Pioneering Period_ (1922–23),

_Pictures of Old New Zealand_ (1930), , ,

Craig, Eric, ,

Crombie, John: _Pukaki from the Pah at Ohinemutu_ ,

_Rotorua, at the Auckland Museum_ (c. 1878), ****

curios, , , , –27, , , ,

curio-hunting, –38, , –73,

Curio Rooms and displays, ,

trade in, , , , –48, , , ,

_see also_ burial caskets; taonga

Dannefærd, Sygvard, , –48

Davidson-Ladd, Jane,

Davis, C. O., ,

de Labillardière, J. J.,

Department of Tourist and Health Resorts, , , , , ,

Whakarewarewa model pā, –21,

Derby, Lord Frederick Stanley, ,

Devenish, William,

Dingley, Robert,  _Dinornis. See_ moa, moa bones

Dittmer, Wilhelm, , –88

_The Keeper of Pahikaure_ (1906), ****

_'Mana'_ (1905), ****

_Te Tohunga_ (1907),

Dominion Museum, , , , , ,

Buller's collection in, –81

Nelson Illingworth's studio in, **** , ****

_see also_ Colonial Museum; Te Papa

Donne, Thomas Edward, , , , ,

collections sold, –51

Donnelly, Airini, née Karauria, , –11, **** ,

Donnelly, George; Maud,

Doré, Gustave: _The New Zealander_ , **** , –4

Drew, Samuel: _A Quaint Collection of Maori Gods, Weapons, Implements and Carvings_ , , **** ,

Duncan, Wī,

Dunedin exhibitions. _See_ Maori Carnival, Puketeraki 1901; New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, Dunedin 1889–90

New Zealand Exhibition, Dunedin 1865

Dunn, Michael, ,

Edwards, Elizabeth,

Edwards Studio: _Charles F. Goldie in his Studio with Patara Te Tuhi_ , , **** ,

eel-god. _See_ carvings Elizabeth Pulman Studio

_King Tawhiao_ (1882), , ****

_Maori Curios_ ,

_Rewi Manga Maniapoto_ (1879), , ****

_Tamati Waka Nene_ (c. 1870), –93, ****

England. _See_ British Museum; British royal family; London

ethnological art, concept of, , , –45

satirised, –96

Fairburn, Miles,

Farnall, Rupert: _Charles F. Goldie in his Studio_ (c. 1908), ****

Fenton, Judge F. D.,

Ferdinand Maximilian. _See_ Austria, Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of

Fine Arts and Industrial Exhibition, Christchurch 1873,

French Academy of Art, Auckland,

Froude, J. A.,

Gaut, Joseph,

Gaze, H. E.,

Gear, James, ,

George, Annie Thorne, ****

George, Seymour, ,

German warship, King Tāwhiao and,

Gibbons, Peter, , , , , , ,

gifting. _See_ taonga

Gilbert Mair Collection, , , **** , –34, **** , ****

_see also_ Auckland Institute and Museum; Mair, Gilbert Gilfillan, J. A.,

_Interior of a Native Village or 'Pa' in New Zealand, Situated near the town of Petre, at Wanganui_ , , **** ,

Gillies, Justice T. B.,

Gisborne Art Exhibition 1909. _See_ Curio and Industrial Exhibition, Gisborne 1909

Glenmark, moa bone cache 1865,

Godber, Albert Percy: _Rock with Maori Markings, at Raglan_ , c. 1920, ****

Goldie, Charles F., viii, –107, **** , –51

and Augustus Hamilton,

and his models, , , –4, –21,

in his studio, , **** , , **** , –37,

and James Cowan,

_Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_ exhibition 2012, vii,

and Louis J. Steele, , –72

reproductions, ,

reviewed, , –78, –5, ,

satirised, , –94,

Goldie, Charles F: works referenced

_'All 'e Same t'e Pakeha'_ (1905),

_The Arrival of the Maoris in New Zealand_ (1898), , **** ,

_Ena Te Papatahi, a Chieftainess of the Ngapuhi Tribe_ (1902), ****

_Fire and Smoke_ (1908), , ****

_A Hot Day_ (1901), **** ,

chromolithograph of,

_Kai Paipa_ (1901), , **** ,

_Kapi Kapi, aged, a Survivor of the Tarawera Eruption_ (1910), ****

_The Last Sleep/The Kingdom of Death_ , **** ,

_Nikorima and Nicotina_ (1910), , ****

_A Noble Relic of a Noble Race: Wharekauri Tahuna, a 'Tohunga' or Priest of the Tuhoe Tribe_ (1910),

_One of the Old School_ (1900),

_Patara Te Tuhi, an Old Warrior_ (1901), , ****

_Sophia, the Heroine of Tarawera_ (1910), ****

_Still Life_ (1886), , ****

_'The memory of what has been and never more will be'_ (1905), , ****

Goldie, William D.,

_Goldie_ exhibition (1997–99), viii

Gordon, Mona,

Gordon, William F.: _Te Whiti-o-Rongomai_ (1880), , ****

Gorst, John, –5

_Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori Portraits_ (2014–15), ,

Graham, George, , , ,

_Graphic_ (London): _The Maori Difficulty in New Zealand Visit of King Tawhiao and his Followers to Auckland_ , **** ,

Great Exhibition, London 1851,

Grey, George, **xii** , –5, **** , ,

collections, vii, **** , , , , –32,

_Address to the N Zealand Society Septr _MDCCCLI_ , **xii** , _

_Polynesian Mythology_ ,

Grossman, Edith Searle,

Gudgeon, W. E.,

Guide Sophia (Te Paea Hinerangi), –64, ****

Gully, John, ,

haka, , , , ,

called indecent, , –11

as entertainment, , **** , ,

as musical form, ,

Hamilton, Augustus, , , **** , –81, **** , , , , –33

and Āraiteuru model pā, , –16, **** ,

as collector, , **** , , ,

work commissioned by, ****

as curator, , , , –12, –30

as ethnologist, , , , , , , ,

and Maori Relics Bill,

named Tūpai-whakarongo-wānanga,

and Nelson Illingworth, , –83, –86,

photographic catalogue,

and Rotorua model pā, –21, , –55

Hamilton, Augustus: works referenced

_Clay Model of Nelson Illingworth's Bust of Augustus Hamilton_ (1907), ****

_Nelson Illingworth in his 'Studio' at the Dominion Museum_ (c. 1909), ****

_Nelson Illingworth Modelling Hepi Kahotea Te Heuheu_ (1908), ****

_Nelson Illingworth's Clay Model for the Bust of Patara Te Tuhi_ , ****

_see also Maori Art_

Hanson, Allan,

Harding and Billings: _Types of Australasiennes_ , , ****

Hau-te-ana-nui-o-Tangaroa (wharenui), –56

Hauāuru (Waikato chief),

Hautapu, burial cave looted,

Hawai'i, King Kalākaua of, –12

Hawcridge, Robert: _They Were Avowed Lovers: New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1893, , ****

Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, , **** , , , **** , ,

Head, Samuel Heath: _Te Arawa Group at the Christchurch Exhibition_ (1906–7), ****

Healy, Chris,

Heaphy, Charles,

Heberley, Jacob, ,

'Ipu Tangata: Calabash for serving up human flesh at a feast', ****

Hector, James, ,

heitiki, , **** , –56, **** , –11,

Heke, Hōne, , ,

Henare, Amiria, –13

Herries, William,

Hight, James,

Hill, Alfred, , , , –37

'Exhibition Ode' (Andersen, 1906), –23, –36

_Hinemoa_ (1896),

'Song of the Locust' ('Tarakihi'),

_Tapu_ (1902), –37

'Waiata Poi', ,

Hinerangi, Te Paea (Guide Sophia), –64, ****

history painting, –2, –17, , –66, –73, , ,

Hitchings, Hilda,

Hobbs, John (Hāmi Hōne Rōpiha),

Hocken, Thomas Morland, , , –43 _passim_ , –12,

Hocken Library, Dunedin,

Hoerā, Taite (Wherokino),

Hogan, Helen, –23

Holborn Restaurant, London, **** ,

Holman, Jeffrey Paparoa,

Hongi, Hāre (Henry M. Stowell), , ,

_Horatio Gordon Robley Dressed as a Maori Chief_ , ****

Horomona, Terewai, –36, ****

Howie, Fanny Rose, née Porter (Princess Te Rangi Pai),

Huatare, Wahanui, , ,

_Wahanui, the Maori Orator_ (Lindauer),

Huggins, Herbert A. R., –89

human remains. _See_ Māori preserved heads; tūpāpaku Hutchinson, Allen,

Hyams, Frank, ,

Iles, Arthur

_Carved Maori House, Whakarewarewa_ (c. 1903), ****

_Maggie Papakura at the Window of Rauru_ (c. 1903), ****

Illingworth, Nelson, , , , –90, , ,

_Bust of Augustus Hamilton_ , clay model for, ****

_Bust of Patara Te Tuhi_ (1908), ****

clay model for, ****

_Bust of Tupai_ (1908), **** , –7,

_Bust of Wikitoria Taitoko Keepa_ (1908), **** ,

monument to Tamahau Mahupuku (1911), –90

_The Coming of the Pakeha_ , –89

_Tamahau Mahupuku Signing the Diamond Jubilee_

_Memorial to Queen Victoria_ , –90, ****

_Wharekauri_ , vii

at work, Dominion Museum, **** , ****

_Illustrated London News_

_The New Zealand Banquet at the Holborn Restaurant: Maori Warriors Performing the 'Haka' War-dance_ , **** ,

Imperial Institute, London, –58,

Indian origins. _See_ Aryan Māori theory; Māori origin theories; Tamil Bell

Jackson, Major (Auckland Colonisation Company),

Japanese, King Tāwhiao and, –15

Jerrold, Blanchard,

John Barnicoat Wall Memorial Collection,

John Mayall Studio, London, –67

_Journal of the Polynesian Society_ , , ,

_see also_ Polynesian Society

Kahotea, Te Rerehau, , ****

_Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_ exhibition (2012), viii,

Kāhui (Taranaki chief),

Kahurānaki (wharenui),

Kaihau, Hēnare,

Kākahi, Tohu,

Kaniwara (Carnival), child named after New Plymouth Carnival and Industrial Exhibition 1904–5,

Kapua, Eramiha, ,

Kapua, Neke, , , –21, –52

Kapua, Tene,

Karauria, Airini. _See_ Donnelly, Airini Kawepō, Rēnata, –44

Lindauer portrait of,

with wife Puketapu,

Keepa, Wikitōria Taitoko, , , ****

_Bust of Wikitoria Taitoko Keepa_ (Illingworth, 1908), ****

Keepa family,

_see also_ Te Rangihiwinui

Kelly, Leslie,

Kemp, Henry T., –69

Kemp, Major. _See_ Te Rangihiwinui, Taitoko Keepa Kennington, Mary (Butterworth), –18

Kernot, Bernie, ,

King, Henry, ,

_Maori King, New Zealand, 'Tiawhiao'_ , April 1884, ****

King, Michael,

King Kalākaua of Hawai'i, –12

King Tāwhiao. _See_ Te Wherowhero, King Tāwhiao

Matutaera Kiritahi (model pā, Ruatāhuna),

_Ko Tawa: Maori Treasures of New Zealand_ , ,

kōauau (flutes),

Kōhere, Hēnare M., –23

Kōhere, Rēweti, , ,

on model pā,

Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin, ,

Korotangi (stone bird),

kūmara god, stone, **** , **** ,

Lafayette Studio: _Airini Donnelly in London_ (1904), , ****

land, alienation and acquisition of, –77, **** , **** , **** , , , , , ,

and portraiture, ,

satirised, –93, **** , ****

Land Tenure Map at Colonial and Indian Exhibition 1886,

Larsen, Fritz,

Lemurian hypothesis, –47

Lewis, William Miller, ,

Lindauer, Gottfried, viii, , –98, –1

bust by Hutchinson,

_Gottfried Lindauer: Die Māori Portraits_ (2014–15), ,

James Cowan and,

posthumous portraiture,

reviewed, , ,

and Walter Buller, , , , –80

Lindauer, Gottfried: works referenced

_Heeni Hirini and Child_ (1878),

_Hitiri Paerata, the Hero of Orakau_ ,

_Hitiri Te Paerata_ (1883), , ****

_Hitiri Te Paerata_ (1883), ****

_Huria Matenga Ngarongoa (Julia Martin)_ (1874), , ****

_The Maori at Home_ (1886), , ****

_Paora Tuhaere_ (1895), **** , –93

_Rewi Manga Maniapoto_ (1882), , ****

_Taitoko Keepa Te Rangihiwinui, Major Kemp_ (1893), , ****

_Tamati Waka Nene_ (1890), –94, ****

_Te Hapuku_ (1877), , ****

_Terewai Horomona: The Maori Poi Dancer_ (1886), , ****

_The Tohunga: Te Aokatoa_ (1898), ,

_Tohunga under Tapu_ ,

_Wahanui, the Maori Orator_ ,

_Wikitoria Taitoko Keepa_ (1897), **** ,

works referenced by model

Huatahi, Wahanui,

Kawepō, Puketapu,

Kawepō, Rēnata, ,

King Tāwhiao, , ,

Makimaki, Maata, ****

Manuhiri, adviser to King Tāwhiao,

Ngāhuia, wife of King Tāwhiao,

Ngātata, Wī Tako,

Te-Ahi-a-Te-Ngū, Mohi,

Te Kati, Mere Kuru,

Te Manu, Paratene,

Te Tātere, Harawira Mahikai, ****

Wharepapa, Kamariera Te Hautākiri,

Lindauer, Victor,

Lindauer Art Gallery, , , , , –98, , ,

Māori patronage of, –91, , ,

_Pukapuka Mo Nga Manuhiri Tangata Matakitiki [Māori Visitors' Book], **** , –97, _

_see also_ Partridge, Henry

Lindsay, Norman: _An Oversight_ (1912), **** , –43

'Literature of Invasion' (1840–90),

'Literature of Occupation' (1890–1930),

Little, James Edward,

Lloyd, Constance (Connie); Olive,

Lloyd, Trevor, , , –96,

as collector, –201,

Maungawhau model pā proposal, –24

retrospective, Rotorua Art Gallery,

satirises ethnological artists, –96

Whare Tane, , –98

Lloyd, Trevor: works referenced

_Before the Pakeha Came_ (1902),

_Deer Stalking in New Zealand_ (1902),

_Drawings of Fakes_ , ****

_The Glorious View from the Top of Mount Eden To-day_ and _The Same View as It May Be To-morrow_ (1928), ****

_A Hot Scent_ , , **** ,

_The Kings of Te Kuiti_ (1908), –93, ****

_A Lesson in Natural History_ (c. 1936), , ****

_'The Old Order Changeth'_ (1902), ****

_Our Comic Artist's Impression of the Auckland Society of Arts Annual Exhibition_ (1908), ****

_The Proceeds of the First Land Sale/A Drunken_

_Threesome_ (1908), , ****

_Santa Claus in his Maoriland Depot_ (1906),  _Santa Claus in Trouble at a Maori Pah_ (1904), **** ,

_Some Impressions of the Auckland Society of Arts 26th Annual Exhibition_ (1907), ****

_Te Tangi o te Moa_ (c. 1907),

_Te Toff_ ,

_A Visit to the Auckland Society of Arts Exhibition by our Comic Artist_ (1905), ****

Lloyd, Trevor (great-nephew), , , ,

London

curio trade, , ,

Macaulay's 'New Zealander', –7, –50

Māori in, , –22, , , , –17, , –25

Pākehā New Zealanders in, , –11

travel to, communications with, –84,

_see also_ British Museum; Colonial and Indian Exhibition 1886

Louisiana Purchase Exposition, –14,

Lubbock, John,

Macaulay, Lord Thomas Babington and 'the New Zealander', –6,

Mackay, Jessie,

Mackechnie, E. A.,

Mackelvie, James Tannock,

Madonna and Child (carved figure), , ****

Mahupuku, Tamahau, ,

monument to, –90, ****

Mahuta, King. _See_ Te Wherowhero, King Mahuta Tāwhiao Mahuta (taiaha),

Maioha, Hōnana, ,

Mair, Gilbert, , , **** , ,

and Auckland Museum, ,

as collector, , , , , –34,

on desecration of wāhi tapu, –41

_Ko Tawa_ ,

_see also_ Gilbert Mair Collection

Maketū, wāhi tapu at, –48

Makimaki, Maata, , ****

mana and moko, –86

mana tupuna (ancestral prestige), ix

Maniapoto, Rewi Manga, , , **** , ****

Maning, F. E.,

Mansfield, Katherine, ,

Mantell, Walter B. D., ,

_Ngatimamoe Paintings, Takiroa Caves_ , , **** ,

Maori Antiquities Act 1901, , –20, , , , –50

_Maori Art_ (Hamilton, 1896–1900), , ,

_Maori Art_ (Hamilton, 1901), , , , , **** ,

_see also_ Hamilton, Augustus

Māori as artists' models, –11, , –16

_see also_ Goldie, Charles F., and his models

Māori as 'living exhibits', –29, –12, , **** , **** , , **** , ,

_see also_ model pā

Māori as travellers, –11, –25

in London, , –15, ,

Macaulay's 'New Zealander' as, –7

Maori Carnival, Puketeraki 1901, –12

Māori carvers. _See_ carvers Maori Councils Act 1900,

_Maori Dredge_ [Modern] and _Maori Dredge_ [Ancient], –59, ****

_Maori Eel-God_ , –61, ****

Māori enfranchisement,

Maori House/Room. _See_ Canterbury Museum

Māori origin theories, –47, –50, , –19,

_see also_ Aryan Māori theory

Māori performing arts. _See_ haka; _tableaux vivants_

Māori preserved heads, vii, , , , , –41

moko and mana, –86

Maori Relics Bill. _See_ Maori Antiquities Act 1901

Maori Village, Taranaki 1904,

_see also_ model pā

'Maoriland,' , –14, , –28,

in magazines and journals, **** , –85, **** , ****

Martin, Josiah, , , , , –34

_Assortment of Carvings_ , ****

_King Tawhiao_ (21 July 1884), after John Mayall Studio, –67, **** ,

_Maori Artefacts in the Auckland Museum_ , **** , **** , ****

_Mohi Te-Ahi-a-Te-Ngu_ (c. 1885), ****

_'The Old Order Changeth'_ (c. 1885), , **** , , –34

_Pataka Panels_ , ****

'The Fight for Life: A Story of Struggle and Success',

Martin, Julia (Hūria Mātenga Ngārongoa), , ****

Mataatua Marae, Kiritahi model pā at,

Maungakawa Pā, –29

Maungawhau (Mount Eden), model pā proposal, –24

McCarthy, Conal, ,

McClure, Margaret,

McDonald, James, ,

_Group of Maori at the New Zealand International_

_Exhibition_ (c. 1906), , ****

_Maori Burial Ground_ (1903), ****

_Maori Wahi-tapu or Burial Ground_ (1903), ****

_Te Whiti_ (1903), , ****

McDonald, Rod,

McEwen, Jock,

McGregor Wright Gallery, ,

McKay, Alexander, , –51

McLintock, Alexander Hare,

Mead, Sidney Moko, , ,

Mechanics' Institutes, –27,

Melbourne International Exhibition 1888–89,

Merrett, Joseph, ,

Metallic Sign and Plating Company,

moa, moa bones, **** , **** , ,

moa-hunters, –56,

spoof image, **** ,

_Te Tangi o te Moa_ (Lloyd, c. 1907),

Moa-bone Point Cave (Te-Ana-o-Hineraki), –51

model pā, , **** , **** , **** , –124, ****

Rēweti Kōhere and,

Ruatāhuna (Kiritahi),

_see also_ Āraiteuru; Whakarewarewa

Mohi. _See_ Te-Ahi-a-Te-Ngū, Mohi Monro, Judge,

Moore, F. G.,

Mōrehu, Matiaha Tira,

Morris, Guy,

Morris, John R., , –43,

_Ancient Maori Carvings No_ (1889-90), –43

_Carved Maori Door Lintels No_ (1889-90), ****

_Maori Chief's greenstone 'Mere Mere's'_ (1889–90), , ****

_Maori Chief's Whalebone 'Mere Mere's'_ (1889–90), ,

_Maori War Impliments & Carvings No 6_ (1889–90), , ****

Mortgage agreement between Epiha Taika and others and William Miller Lewis Esq.,27 July 1877, ****

Mount Eden (Maungawhau) model pā proposal, –24, ****

Mundy, Daniel L.

_Maori Artifacts in Grey's Museum on Kawau Island_ , ****

_Sir George Grey and Annie Thorne George, Mansion House, Kawau Island_ , ****

_Skeletons of New Zealand Moas in Canterbury Museum_ , ****

Musée d'Ethnographie du Trocadéro, Paris,

Museum für Völkerkunde, Hamburg, –55

music, musical instruments, , –62, –44,

'Notes on Dr Newman's Maori Trumpet', ****

_see also_ Hill, Alfred

mussel dredge (rou kākahi), –59, ****

Myers, Francis, –42

Nash, Joseph: _The Maori Difficulty in New Zealand Visit of King Tawhiao and his Followers to Auckland_ , ****

National Maori Museum proposal, , , , –81, ,

Native Land Court, , , –31

and curio collecting, ,

satirised,

Walter Buller and, –76

Negretti and Zambra Studio, Crystal Palace

_King Tawhiao_ (1884), ****

Neich, Roger, –15, ,

and Māori carving,

Nelson, Charles E. ('Tare'), –55,

Nene, Tāmati Wāka, –94, **** , ****

New Plymouth Carnival and Industrial Exhibition 1904–5, , –13

child named after,

New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition, Dunedin 1889–90, , , –42, , ,

Australian reaction to, –43

New Zealand Art Students' Association, , , –32, –30, , ,

New Zealand Exhibition, Dunedin 1865, , ,

_New Zealand Free Lance_ , –36

_New Zealand Graphic_ , , **** , , , –85

_Christmas Number_ , **** , **** , **** , –86, ****

chromolithographs in, ,

_Sir Walter Buller_ (1903), ****

tangi for King Tāwhiao, –68, **** , ****

Trevor Lloyd and, –89

_New Zealand Herald_ , –7,

and _Auckland Weekly News_ Trevor Lloyd and, –91

_New Zealand Illustrated Magazine_ , , , –86

'Afternoon Tea in the Studio',

_Patara Te Tuhi_ and _Mr. A.T. Ngata, M.A_., 'The Old and the New', ****

Trevor Lloyd and,

_New Zealand Illustrated_ ( _Weekly Press_ Christmas Number), –88

_The Keeper of Pahikaure_ (Philip R. Presants after Wilhelm Dittmer, 1906), ****

_'Mana'_ (Philip R. Presants after Wilhelm Dittmer, 1905), ****

New Zealand Institute, –5, ,

New Zealand International Exhibition, Christchurch 1906–7, –19, , –18, **** , **** , **** , ,

doorway at Tourist Department Court, **ii**

'Exhibition Ode', , , , –36

' _Haere Mai'_ , _'Welcome'_ , invitation booklet cover, **vi**

New Zealand Natives' Association,

New Zealander, The. _See_ Macaulay, Lord Thomas Babington

Newman, Alfred Kingcome, , , –62

'eel-god' carving, –61, **** ,

'Nga Kawhena' (Johnny Coffin), –74

Ngāhuia, wife of King Tāwhiao,

Ngāi Tahu, , , , , ,

and the Christchurch Exhibition,

Ngākaho, Tāmati,

Ngāpuhi, ,

Ngārongoa, Hūria Mātenga (Julia Martin), , ****

Ngata, Āpirana Turupa, , **** , –10, , , , , ,

and Alfred Hill,

and Augustus Hamilton, ,

and Johannes C. Andersen, , –35,

and model pā,

_The Past and Future of the Maori_ ,

and Young Maori Party, ,

'Ngata' (hurricane), –10

Ngātata, Wī Tako, ,

Ngāti Hikawera,

Ngāti Kahungunu, , , , , –44, , ,

at Āraiteuru, , , ,

and Tākitimu wharenui,

Ngāti Māmoe, ,

Ngāti Moe,

Ngāti Pikiao, , ,

Ngāti Porou, , , ,

massed haka 1901,

Ngāti Raukawa, ,

Ngāti Ruanui,

Ngāti Tamaterā,

Ngāti Tarāwhai carvers, , , –52

Ngāti Tūwharetoa, –97

Ngāti Whātua, , ,

taonga of, –61, , ,

_Te Toki-a-Tāpiri_ ,

Nikorima, Katerina, née Te Karari, , **** , , **** , **** , –22,

Northcroft, E. H., ,

'Notes on Dr Newman's Maori Trumpet', , ****

Ōhinemutu: gateway figure from Pukeroa Pā at, ****

Ōhinemutu (wharenui), –16, ****

Old Curiosity Shop. _See_ Butterworth, James; Craig, Eric Oldman and Webster collections,

Orbell, Margaret,

Ōremu (Ngāti Pikiao burial cave),

O'Rourke, Ross,

Otago University Museum, ,

Ōtākaro,

Paehua, Te Kei,

Paerata, Hitiri. _See_ Te Paerata, Hitiri

Paerata, Rev. Hōne Peri, –97

Paetirori, Hoete, ****

Pahikaure (mere), **** , –88, ****

Pairikiriki (toki),

Palenski, Ron,

_Panneaux de Case_ [house panels], ****

Pannemaker, Stéphane, after Gustave Doré: _The New Zealander_ , **** ,

Panoho, Rangihiroa,

Papaitonga. _See_ Buller, Walter Lawry Papakura, Maggie (Makereti), , , ,

at Christchurch Exhibition, **** , ****

in _New Zealand Graphic_ ,

at Whakarewarewa, **** , ****

Pāpāwai Pā, –89,

Parata, Tame,

Parihaka, , –73

_see also_ Te Whiti-o-Rongomai

Partington, W. H. T.: _A Quaint Collection of Maori Gods, Weapons, Implements and Carvings_ , **** ,

Partridge, Henry, , , , , , –98, , , ,

_see also_ Lindauer Art Gallery

Partridge Collection, –12, , , , ,

_see also_ Cowan, James: _Pictures of Old New Zealand_

pātaka, , –47

from Āraiteuru,

Puāwai o Te Arawa, ****

Te Takinga, , **** , , ,

Pegler, Enos Silvanus, , –69

_The Maori King's Tangi: Making Kits_ [kono] _for_

_Visitors_ (1894), ****

_Tawhiao the Maori King's Tangi: Body Lying in State_ (1894), ****

_Tawhiao the Maori King's Tangi: Maori Forces Drill_ (1894), ****

Pember Reeves, William, ,

Philosophical Institute of Canterbury, –51 _passim_

photography, –21

covert, –69

Goldie's use of,

Lindauer's use of, –92,

posthumous,

_see also_ printing processes

Pitt, Colonel, –13

Poi, Rameka,

Polynesian Society, , , , –79, ,

_Journal of the Polynesian Society_ , , ,

Pōmare, Māui, , , –59

Porter, Colonel Thomas William, , , ,

Porter, Herewaka Porourangi, née Pōtae,

Portier, André and François Poncetton

_Panneaux de Case_ [house panels], ****

_Tikis et Ornaments_ (detail), ****

portraiture, **** , **** , **** , **** , ****

clothing and props, , , , –68, –20

in Māori art,

_see also_ carvings

Māori engagement with, –74, –86, , –98, –68, , , ,

Māori patronage of, –11, –75, , –93, –1, –62, –73, –81, –17, –24,

photographic, –62, –72

posthumous, –93, ,

practice of indigenous, –45

_see also Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_

Pōtae, Hēnare,

Pōtae, Herewaka Porourangi (Porter),

Pōtatau, King. _See_ Te Wherowhero, King Pōtatau

poupou, carved, , **** , –61, **** , , –52, ****

Presants, Philip R.

_The Keeper of Pahikaure_ (1906, after Wilhelm Dittmer), ****

_'Mana'_ (1905, after Wilhelm Dittmer), **** ,

'Princess te Rangi Pai', ,

Pringle, Thomas, ,

_Puawai o Te Arawa, Maori Hall, Auckland Museum_ (c. 1905), **** ,

printing, Māori and, –8, , ,

printing processes

chromolithography, **vii** , , , **** , –88, ****

_see also New Zealand Graphic_

lithography superseded by photolithography,

photolithographs, vii, , ,

in publications, –86

_see also_ photography

Puāwai o Te Arawa (pātaka), ****

Pūkākī (gateway figure), , ****

_Pukapuka Mo Nga Manuhiri Tangata Matakitiki_ [Māori Visitors' Book], Lindauer Art Gallery, **** , –97

Pukehika, Hōri,

Pulman Studio. _See_ Elizabeth Pulman Studio Pupu, Karauria,

Queen Victoria, , , , , ,

King Tāwhiao and, , ,

meets Māori, , ,

_see also_ British royal family

Rākau, Te Ihu,

Rangiātea church, Ōtaki,

Rangipūpū, Kuīni Wī,

Rangitōpeora,

Rauru (wharenui), –55, **** , **** , ****

Reid, Francis,

Reina (Rema), Anihera,

Reischek, Andreas,

Reményi, Eduard, –44

Renata, Aparata (Alfred Reynolds), –38,

Reynolds, Alfred (Aparata Renata), –38,

Richmond, J. C.,

Ring, Miss,

Roberts, John,

Robieson, James,

Robley, Horatio Gordon, , , , , **** ,

_Hoete Paetirori at Arawa Pa at Maketu, New Zealand, 1865_ (c. 1905), ****

rock art, –54, **** , **** , **** , ****

spurious, –46, ****

Rōpiha, Hāmi Hōne (John Hobbs),

Rōpiha, Hōri,

Rotorua, , , ,

American Fleet visit 1908,

Lake Rotorua, , –86

royal visit 1901, , , ,

and tourism, , ,

_see also_ Whakarewarewa

Rotorua Art Gallery,

rou kākahi (mussel dredge), –59, ****

Royal Academy of Arts, ,

Rua-toki-te-hau (wharenui),

Ryan, Thomas: _The Tangi of King Tawhiao: The Reception of the Late King's Body by the Assembled Crowd_ (1894), –68, ****

Salmond, Anne,

sculpture, ethnographic. _See_ Illingworth, Nelson Seager, Samuel Hurst,

Seddon, Richard John, , ,

Selig, Phineas,

Seppings Wright, H. C.: _Life Size Portrait of Tawhiao, the Maori King_ (1884), , –17, ****

Seuffert, Anton,

Sharpe, Alfred,

Shaw, Peter, ,

_Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi. See_ Steele, Louis J. Simmons, David R., , ,

Singer, Richard Arnold,

_Sir Walter Buller_ (1903), ****

Skidmore, George,

Skinner, H. D., , , ,

Skinner, W. H., , ,

Smetham, James: _The New Zealand Chiefs in Wesley's_

_House_ (1863),

Smith, J. R., ,

Smith, Stephenson Percy, , , ,

and Great Fleet theory,

_Hawaiki: The Whence of the Maori_ (1898), –17

Maori Relics Bill,

Smithsonian Museum, Washington,

snake-matau design,

_Some Birds of New Zealand, New Zealand Graphic Christmas Number_ , 1912, **** ,

Somers Vine, John Richard, –36

Sorrenson, M. K.,

Sperrey, Eleanor (Kate), , , ****

Sperry, Charles; Edith,

Stack, Rev. James W.,

Stafford, Jane,

_Maoriland: New Zealand Literature 1872–1914_ , –14, ,

Steele, Louis J., , –75,

'Meissonier of Maoriland', ,

reviewed, , , ,

Trevor Lloyd and, ,

Steele, Louis J.: works referenced

_Arrival of Captain Cook; An Incident in the Bay of Islands_ , 29 _November 1769_ (1890) with Kennett Watkins, , ****

_The Arrival of the Maoris in New Zealand_ (1898) with Charles F. Goldie, , **** , –73

_Flag of King Mahuta_ (1894) with Hēnare Kaihau, **** , –75

_A Maori Chief_ (1890), ****

_A Maori Legend from_ ' _Te Rou_ ', (1888), –65, **** ,

Mohi Te-Ahi-a-Te Ngū, portrait of, , ****

'Nga Kawhena, better known to fame as Johnny

Coffin, a well-known Maori policeman of the Olden Time' (1891), –74

_Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi_ , , –69, –75

_Spoils to the Victor_ (1908), **** ,

satirised,

_Tattooing in the Olden Time_ (1894), , –71, **** ,

_Vae Victus!_ (1904), , ****

Stenhouse, John,

Stevens' Auction Rooms,

'stone age' implements, , , , , –38

as metaphor, –59,

spurious,

stone artefacts, , , , ,

lack of polished, –50

'Lemurion', –47

Stowell, Henry M. (Hāre Hongi), , ,

Stuart, Sam,

_The Interior of a Maori Pa in the Olden Time_ , , ****

'Sumner Cave Controversy', –56

Swainson, Hon. W.,

Swan and Wigglesworth (photographers),

Taahu, Hōne, –55

_tableaux vivants_ (indigenous performance), –19,

Taepa, Wi: _Ipu Mauri_ (c. 1997), viii, **ix**

Tahiti-whenua (mere),

Taiaroa, Hon. Hōri Kerei, , ,

Taika, Epiha, ,

_Tainui_ waka, model of,

Takamoana, Karaitiana, ,

Takiroa Caves, –54, **** , ****

_Tākitimu_ (waka), , ,

Tākitimu (wharenui), , ,

Tāmihana, Wiremu,

Tamil Bell, , ****

and origin theory,

Tanira (widow of King Tāwhiao),

taonga, vii–x, ,

ceremonial gifting of, , , , , –58, –1

as collectibles, , , , –33, , –48,

destroyed or lost, –90, –29, –55,

documents as, ,

dug up, looted, –42, –73, –99

_see also_ wāhi tapu museum curatorship issues, –30

portraits as, viii–ix, , –62, , –74,

replicas and fakes, –39, –58, **** , –200, ****

_see also_ curios

Tapsell, Paul, , ,

_Ko Tawa_ ,

tapu, , , ,

artists constrained by, –63,

infringements of, , –52, ,

on King Tāwhiao's home, –29

lizard as sign of,

and museum exhibits, ,

New Zealand as 'The Land of the Tapu',

Pākehā collectors and, –32

_see also_ wāhi tapu

_Tapu_ , comic opera 1902, –37

Tarakawa, Teipu (Te Ipu),

Taranaki Carnival and Christmas Exhibition. _See_ New Plymouth Carnival and Industrial Exhibition 1904–5

Taranaki Museum; Skinner collection, ,

Taranui, Waata, tomb of, **** , ,

Tarapata, Hārata Rēwiri, ,

Tautari, Wātene, ,

Tāwhiao. _See_ Te Wherowhero, Tāwhiao Matutaera _Tawhiao, the Late King of the Maoris, from the Painting by H. C. Seppings Wright_ , ****

Taylor, W. A.,

Te-Ahi-a-Te-Ngū, Mohi, , **** , , ****

Te-Ana-o-Hineraki (Moa-bone Point Cave), ,

Te Ao, Hema and Ropata, ,

Te Aokatoa (tohunga), ,

Te Arawa, **** , , ,

canoe prow from,

at Christchurch Exhibition, , –15, **** , ****

Te Arikinui Te Atairangikaahu,

Te Āti Awa, ,

Te Aumapu (adze),

Te Aute College Students' Association,

Te Awekotuku, Ngahuia,

Te Hāpuku, , ****

Te Hau-ki-Tūranga (wharenui),

Te Heuheu, Hepi Kahotea, **** ,

Te Heuheu Tūkino II, Mananui, ,

Te Heuheu Tūkino III, Iwikau,

Te Heuheu Tūkino V, Tūreiti, , , ,

and Alfred Hill,

Te Heuheu Tūkino VI, Hoani,

_Te Hokioi o Nui-Tireni, e rere atu na_ , –8, ,

Te Kati, Mere Kuru,

Te Kowha, Rere,

Te Manu, Paratene,

_Te Maori_ exhibition,

_Te Maori: Te Hokinga Mai_ , viii,

Te Moananui, Tāreha,

Te Paerata, Hitiri, , , **** , ****

Te Papa, Wellington, , , –81, ,

Āraiteuru in, –21

_Kahu Ora: Living Cloaks_ (2012), viii,

Te Papatahi, Īna, , **** , , , , **** ,

_Te Pātaka Whakaahua_ ,

_Te Pipiwharauroa_ , , ,

Te Puni, Hōniana,

Te Rāhui, Ānaha, , –52

Te Rangi Hīroa. _See_ Buck, Peter

Te Rangihiwinui, Taitoko Keepa (Major Kemp), , ****

land deals, –76

Te Rotowhio pā, Rotorua,

Te Takinga (pātaka), , **** , , ,

Te Tātere, Harawira Mahikai, , ****

_Te Toki-a-Tāpiri_ ,

Te Tuhi, Pātara, –8, **** , ,

and Charles Goldie, , **** ,

Goldie portraits of, **** , , **** , ,

Illingworth bust of, **** , –85, ****

and James Cowan,

in London, , , ,

and _Te Hokioi_ , ,

Te Uru, J. W. H. (Henry), –18

_Te Waka Maori o Niu Tireni_ ,

Te Whanonga, Hēmara Rerehau, , –25, ****

Te Wharepuni-a-Māui, –17, ****

_Interior of Te Wharepuni-a-Maui at the Model Pa_ ,

_Christchurch International Exhibition_ (1906–7), ****

_Maori Group before Te Wharepuni-a-Maui at the Christchurch Exhibition_ (1906–7), ****

Te Wheoro, Wiremu,

Te Wherowhero, King Mahuta Tāwhiao, , –29

_Flag of King Mahuta_ , , ****

visit to Lindauer Art Gallery,

Te Wherowhero, King Pōtatau, , , –66

Te Wherowhero, King Tāwhiao Matutaera, , ,

in Auckland, –14, **** ,

death of,

as Inca chief priest,

in London, , , , , –12, –17

caricatured,

portraits of, , , , **** , **** , –68, **** , , , **** ,

tangi for, , , –71, **** , **** , **** , ****

Te Whiti-o-Rongomai, , **** , ****

refusal to be drawn or photographed, , –65

tētere (trumpet) gifted to Ngāti Whātua, –1

_The New Zealand Banquet at the Holborn Restaurant: Maori Warriors Performing the 'Haka' War-dance_ , **** ,

_The New Zealander_ (newspaper),

_The Tangi of Tawhiao: European Reception Day, Monday, Sept., 1894_, ****

Thomas, Nicholas, ,

Thomson, John Mansfield,

Thurston, John,

Tietenberg, Annette,

_Tikis et Ornaments_ (detail): Portier, André and François Poncetton, ****

Tiuakauamate, Hōne Mima,

Tītore, armour presented to, , ****

tombs, carved, **** , , **** , **** , –48,

_see also_ burial chests

Tomory, Peter,

tourism, tourists, viii, , ,

and curio trade, , –44, , ,

promotional material, –85,

_see also_ model pā

Tourist and Health Resorts, Department of, , –21, , , ,

petition to Minister,

_Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute_ , , , , –80

Dr Newman and, –59

lithographic plates superseded,

plates, **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , **** , ****

Treaty of Waitangi, , ,

_see also_ Steele, Louis J., _Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi_

Tregear, Edward, , , ,

_The Aryan Maori_ , **** ,

Aryan Maori theory, , –62,

trumpet (pūkāea, tētere), –62, –1

'Notes on Dr Newman's Maori Trumpet', ****

Tuainuku, Waretini,

Tūhaere, Pāora, , , **** , ,

Tūhoe model pā,

Tūkorehu, Tūpōtahi,

Tumohe, Wiremu Toetoe, –25, ****

Tūnuiārangi (Major Brown),

Tūpai-whakarongo-wānanga (Tūpai),

Augustus Hamilton named,

_Bust of Tupai_ (Illingworth, 1908), **** , , –88,

tūpāpaku in museums, –51,

_see also_ burial chests; Māori preserved heads; wāhi tapu

Turnbull, Alexander,

_see also_ Alexander Turnbull Library

Tūroa, Tōpia Peehi,

Victoria, Queen. _See_ Queen

Victoria Völkner, Rev. Carl,

von Haast, Julius, , –56, ,

Colonial and Indian Exhibition 1886, , –35

and Hautapu tūpāpaku,

sells moa skeletons,

von Hochstetter, Ferdinand, ,

waharoa (gateway) at Āraiteuru (now Te Papa), –21

_see also_ Whakarewarewa, model pā at

Wahawaha, Rāpata, ,

wāhi tapu (burial caves, urupā)

desecration of, , , –42, , –99, , –32

Maketū, –48

Moa-bone Point Cave (Te-Ana-o-Hineraki), –51

'Sumner Cave Controversy', –56

_Maori Burial Ground_ (1903), ****

_Maori Wahi-tapu or Burial Ground_ (1903), ****

_see also_ burial chests; tombs; tūpāpaku in museums

Waitangi Tribunal,

ancestral portraits at, ix,

Waite, Edgar,

Waitere, Tene, , ,

Maungawhau (Mount Eden) model pā proposal, –23

Rauru (wharenui), –52, **** , **** , **** ,

_Ta Moko Panel_ , , ****

waka tūpāpaku. _See_ burial chests

Wales, Prince of. _See_ British royal family

Walker, Edmund (after J. A. Gilfillan): _Interior of a Native Village or 'Pa' in New Zealand, Situated near the Town of Petre, at Wanganui_ , ****

Warbrick, Alfred,

Ward, John P.,

Warren, W. H., –62

'Notes on Dr Newman's Maori Trumpet', ****

Watkins, Kennett, , –64, , , ,

and Art Students' Association, , –31

and Louis J. Steele, –67

satirised,

Watkins, Kennett: works referenced

_Arrival of Captain Cook; An Incident in the Bay of Islands, 29 November 1769_ (1890). Louis J. Steele and Kennett Watkins, , ****

_The Departure of Six Canoes for New Zealand from Rarotonga, A.D.1350_ (1906), **** , ,

_The Legend of the Voyage to New Zealand_ (1912), **** ,

_The Phantom Canoe, a Legend of Lake Tarawera_ (1888),

Webb, Steffano Francis

Doorway at the Tourist Department Court at the Christchurch Exhibition (1906–7), **ii**

_Interior of Te Wharepuni-a-Maui at the Model Pa, Christchurch International Exhibition_ (1906–7), ****

_Weekly Graphic and New Zealand Mail_ ,

_Weekly Press_ , Christchurch. _See New Zealand Illustrated_

Weka Pass rock art. _See_ rock art

Wellington Athenæum and Mechanics' Institute,

Wellington Philosophical Society, , , –30,

Westbury, Lord, –56

Whakarewarewa model pā, –10, –21, –53

Te Rotowhio pā demolished,

'Wonderful Whakarewarewa',

_see also_ Papakura, Maggie

Whakatīwai archaeological dig,

Whanganui Regional Museum, , ,

Whare Tane (Trevor Lloyd's house), , ,

wharenui, wharepuni. _See_ Kahurānaki; Hau-teana-nui-o-Tangaroa; Ōhinemutu; Rauru; Rua-toki-te-hau; Tākitimu; Te Hau-ki-Tūranga; Te Wharepuni-a-Māui

Wharepapa, Kamariera Te Hautākiri,

Wharepū, Te Aho-o-te-rangi, , ,

_'All 'e Same t'e Pakeha'_ (Goldie, 1905),

Wherokino (Hoerā, Taite),

White, G. H., and posthumous photography,

White, John, , ,

_Ancient History of the Maori: His Mythology and Traditions_ (1887–90),

_Te Rou, or the Maori at Home_ (1874),

Wickham, J. D.,

Williams, Mark, –14, ,

Williams, William

_Displays at the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, Napier_ (c. 1888), ****

_Museum of the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute_ (c. 1888), ****

Wilson, James,

Wilson, John,

Wilson, John Alexander, –31

Wirihana, Tieme, –49

'Wonderful Whakarewarewa',

Woodbury Permanent Photographic Printing Company

_The Carved Tomb of Te Arawa Chief Waata Taranui at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition_ , ****

_The Pataka Te Takinga at the Colonial and Indian Exhibition_ , ****

Wragge, Clement L., –10, –47

Wright, Walter

_An Evening Scene, Lake Rotorua_ (1904), ,

_The Burning of the Boyd, Whangaroa, 1809_ (1903),

Wynyard, George Henry: _Sir George Grey's Address to the N Zealand Society Septr 26 MDCCCLI_ , **xii** ,

Young Maori Party, , , ,

and tourist perspectives,

John R. Morris, _Carved Maori Door Lintels No 9_ , 1889–90, gelatin silver photograph, 192 × 143 mm. AUCKLAND ART GALLERY TOI O TĀMAKI, PURCHASED 1984
First published 2018

Auckland University Press

University of Auckland

Private Bag 92019

Auckland 1142

New Zealand

www.press.auckland.ac.nz

© Roger Blackley, 2018

ISBN 978 1 86940 935 7

eISBN 978 1 77671 020 1

Publication is kindly assisted by the Gerrard & Marti Friedlander Creative Lives Series and by Creative New Zealand

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand

This book is copyright. Apart from fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without prior permission of the publisher. The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

**Book design:** Katrina Duncan

**Jacket design:** Neil Pardington

**Front cover photograph:** Edwards Studio, _Charles F. Goldie in his Studio with Patara Te Tuhi_ , 1901, gelatin silver photograph, detail. From the album 'Maoriland Photographs', Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, PXA 489.

**Back cover photograph:** William Williams, _Displays at the Hawke's Bay Philosophical Institute, Napier_ , c. 1888, scan from dry-plate glass negative. E. R. Williams Collection, Alexander Turnbull Library, 1/1-25795-G. The painting is Kate Sperrey's _Maori Flower-girl_ , lent by Gilbert Mair to the New Zealand and South Seas Exhibition (1889–90).

# Contents

  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface
  6. Introduction
  7. Chapter One: Curios and Exhibitions
  8. Chapter Two: Māori Prehistory
  9. Chapter Three: Portrait Galleries
  10. Chapter Four: Performing the Ancient Past
  11. Chapter Five: The Curio Economy
  12. Chapter Six: Problems with Portraits
  13. Chapter Seven: Pākehā Propaganda
  14. Chapter Eight: Cosmopolitan Maoriland
  15. Chapter Nine: Maoriland in Focus
  16. Conclusion
  17. Notes
  18. Bibliography
  19. Index
  20. Copyright

# Guide

  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Galleries of Maoriland

# Page List

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