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The trip proved to be as consequential as it was tragic. In November 1823, King Liholiho and Queen Kamāmalu of Hawai‘i boarded a ship accompanied by a small entourage, with the intention of undertaking a sea voyage of more than 27,400km. Even among such skilled mariners as the Hawaiians, who viewed the sea as a great connecting highway, the wisdom of this journey was questioned. Many chiefs advised Liholiho not to make the trip, but the king was relatively young, intrepid, and doubtless mindful of the great changes that were afoot in the Hawaiian archipelago. Some could be traced back to the actions of his father, King Kamehameha I, who had unified the Hawaiian islands – and the various chiefs ruling over them – into a kingdom in 1810. Other changes had arrived by sea, in the shape of influences borne by Western explorers who had begun to reach the archipelago in the 1700s. Captain James Cook is the first European known to have visited Hawai‘i. He landed in January 1778, during his third expedition to the Pacific, and returned to the island group in 1779. The presence of Cook and his crew prompted exchanges of gifts, but also brought diseases and invasive flora and fauna. An ultimate episode of violence led to Cook’s own death. Even so, his visit put the Hawaiian archipelago firmly on the map for the West. Over the following decades, a trickle of overseas visitors became a wave, as American, Russian, French, and Spanish sailors made landfall. Both King Liholiho and Kamehameha I before him keenly appreciated that, in this new world, sovereignty would depend on securing alliances. When Liholiho commenced his journey in 1823, he was seeking an audience in Britain with King George IV.
The royal delegation departed from Honolulu harbour on board a whaling ship, L’Aigle. Space was found for more than 100 pigs and a sizable consignment of potatoes to feed the passengers, alongside the barrels of whale oil that the vessel was conveying to Britain. Sumptuous gifts for George IV were also stowed on board. The first leg of the journey, to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, took 82 days, with a stop en route at the Line Islands (now the Republic of Kiribati) to take on hay and turtles. From Brazil to Britain took a further 71 days, with L’Aigle docking at Portsmouth on 17 May 1824. The royal delegation travelled to London by coach, and the Foreign Office appointed a host to look after them as they awaited an audience with George IV. As a precaution against their lack of immunity to European diseases, arrangements were made to inoculate the Hawaiian party against smallpox. During their time in London, members of the royal delegation visited the opera, had their portraits drawn, attended a service at Westminster Abbey, and – on 8 June – visited the British Museum. There, they would have been able to view the gifts Captain Cook received more than 40 years earlier. Sadly, exploring London brought the delegation into contact with measles, too, and in July both Liholiho and Kamāmalu succumbed to the virus, passing away aged 26 and 22 respectively.
Despite the deaths of the royal couple, an audience with George IV went ahead in September, when the king hosted the surviving members of the delegation at Windsor Castle. Later that month, the remaining Hawaiians boarded HMS Blonde, which took them – and the bodies of Liholiho and Kamāmalu – back to Honolulu. Beyond the tragedy that unfolded, this visit marked a turning point in the relationship between Hawai‘i and Britain. It was the first of many official voyages from the Hawaiian kingdom to Britain. The nature of these links is currently being explored in a major British Museum exhibition, Hawai‘i: a kingdom crossing oceans (see ‘Further information’ box below), which marks the 200th anniversary of Liholiho and Kamāmalu’s trip and subsequent events (1823-1826). As well as reuniting a wealth of material associated with the royal visit, it explores Hawaiian culture through the lens of diplomacy and allyship, and it examines the nature of the relationship that was forged with Britain.
Out of the blue
The Hawaiian archipelago was first settled in around AD 1000. Then, too, a great voyage across the ocean was involved, although this time it spanned millennia. ‘It is one of the greatest migration stories in the world’, says Alice Christophe, Head of Oceania at the British Museum and exhibition lead curator. ‘That is, in terms of the distances crossed, the technology involved, and the knowledge that you need to have to cross these vast bodies of water. The Pacific covers a third of the globe, and our name for it was given by Westerners. “Pacific” is a term that means tranquil, but crossing this ocean is rarely a peaceful journey. Reaching the Hawaiian archipelago took many generations and acute knowledge of this powerful ocean: Moananuiākea in Hawaiian language.’
Their story started in around 4000 BC, when a group of people departed from the Taiwan Strait in double-hulled canoes. Those mariners spoke Austronesian, which would go on to become the common ancestor of all Polynesian languages. At first, they settled in the region sometimes known as Near Oceania in the Western Pacific. From there, their descendants progressively expanded into the more distant waters of Remote Oceania, moving towards the east of the region. Their ability to cross the open expanse of the Pacific was founded on observations of the movement of the moon and stars, as well as the habits of migratory birds, and the implications of weather and current patterns. By c.1000 BC, this knack for navigation had brought settlers to Fiji, Tonga, and Sāmoa. This still left a vast expanse of ocean, speckled with islands, to be crossed in order to reach Hawai‘i. The first landing there, probably by people setting out from the Society Islands or Marquesas about 1,000 years ago, was no one-off. Instead, repeated voyages between Hawai‘i and home-islands in the south led to the introduction of numerous plants, allowing coconuts, breadfruit, and taro – among other foodstuffs – to be grown. The initial settling of the archipelago is remembered in several ancestral chants, including one that begins Eia Hawai‘i, he moku, he kanaka, meaning ‘Here is Hawai’i, an island, a person’.
According to another chant, dating to the reign of Liholiho’s father Kamehameha I, the islands of the archipelago were indeed born as living beings, from east to west. These lands became home not only to humans, but also to gods. The religious system in place when the first Westerners arrived in Hawai‘i is known as ‘ai kapu, literally meaning ‘restricted eating’. This came with a code of conduct governing various activities, including – as the name implies – dining. In particular, it required male and female chiefs to eat separately, and placed restrictions on what could be consumed. High chiefs (known as ali‘i nui) were of particular significance to the Hawaiian world view. They traced their ancestry back to the gods (akua) and were considered sacred in their own right. It was the role of these high chiefs to mediate between the Hawaiian people and divine forces, and in so doing both create balance and bring forth abundance from the land. This role was reflected in some of the garments they wore. Areas of pristine rainforest, for example, were regarded as the realm of the gods, but also home to a range of beneficial resources. Care was taken when foraging for them, with ceremonies held before people entered these regions. The fruits of such expeditions can still be seen in some of the most remarkable and magnificent objects to survive from this era, including the feathered cloaks, capes (‘ahu ‘ula), and helmets (mahiole) worn by chiefs.
Ancestral treasures
There are numerous examples of these garments in the British Museum exhibition. The first set that visitors encounter has been arranged to evoke a gathering of chiefs, and they make a powerful impression. Patterns of circles, crescents, and triangles are picked out on the cloaks in bold hues of red, yellow, and black, while ridges resplendent with colour erupt from the domes of the helmets. Closer inspection reveals that these designs were achieved using vast numbers of minute feathers, many of which were sourced in the upland forest. Such plumage could also be used in the manufacture of a range of items, including standards that accompanied chiefs; some figures of deities; and rattles used in hula dancing, a practice for honouring gods and chiefs, and recounting ancestral stories through chant and movement. Seeing the quantity of feathers involved invites a suspicion that the birds of Hawai‘i paid a high price for these objects. The reality, though, reflects a more considered approach.
‘We are looking at a largely sustainable practice’, says Alice. ‘Featherwork was done by skilled experts, all of the way from the gathering of the feathers to the creation of these pieces. Birds were captured in the rainforest, using a pole with sticky sap on it. Once caught, they would be taken off the pole, their little feet would be cleaned, some feathers would be plucked from their bodies and, most times, they were released. And just like hair, those feathers would grow back. This approach was a way of sustaining the resource, because there was an understanding that if you killed the birds, you could not go back to them for more.’
‘When we look at the finished works, the skill these cloaks display really is incredible. These pieces are a product of distinct expertise in gathering, tying, wrapping, sometimes also involving stitching and gluing. The very largest examples of cloaks could have taken months or even years to make, taking the entire process into account. Of course, one important factor here is how quickly the necessary resources could be gathered. And this brings us back to reciprocity in the relationship between chiefs and people: the chiefs nurture abundance, and the fruits of this abundance are gathered by experts to create incredibly powerful works.’
‘While there is an element of fashion and innovation to the cloaks, which is important, they were also regarded as embodiments of a chief’s prestige and status; they mark the identity of the bearer as a chief. We believe that no two cloaks were the same, and that the patterns possibly have connections to specific chiefs, specific genealogies, specific places – though their meaning is not known today. Most importantly, these cloaks were seen to provide spiritual protection for the bearer. While they were used in ceremonies, they would be worn on battlegrounds, too: both Kamehameha I and Liholiho are known to have captured other chiefs’ cloaks through battles. They really were powerful garments.’
In general, such cloaks were not intended to touch the ground. An exception is made in the exhibition, though, for the largest of these garments known today, which is presented with a trailing edge. This seems to have been a deliberate choice, as the alternative would have required its owner to stand almost 8ft tall. The explanation for this deviation from standard practice surely lies in its status as a diplomatic gift. It was likely created on the orders of Kamehameha I, who first came to prominence on the island of Hawai‘i, in the southern part of the archipelago, in the late 18th century. His rise coincided with the arrival of Western sailors, whom he took a keen interest in. Kamehameha I is known to have met Captain Cook, and used Western weaponry on the battlefield, alongside more traditional arms, such as spears and wooden clubs bristling with shark teeth.
Dazzling diplomacy
‘Kamehameha I is regarded as the founder of the Hawaiian nation’, says Alice. ‘As foreign presences were increasing in the region, Kamehameha I set out to unify the archipelago into a unique kingdom. As he was doing so, this fine strategist understood the importance of global political alliances and he identified Great Britain as a powerful ally. In 1810, just as he was about to complete the unification of the kingdom, he sent a letter to the British Crown requesting support and protection. With this letter, he sent the magnificent feathered cloak, which has not been on display for over 100 years. For the first time since they were sent from Hawai‘i, the cloak and the letter have been reunited in the exhibition.’
The cloak was intended for George III, but, by the time it reached Britain in 1812, the future George IV was regent. That same year, Hawai‘i assisted Britain in its war with the United States, by providing anchorage for naval vessels. Within a decade, Hawai‘i would also have a new ruler, following the death of Kamehameha I in 1819. He bequeathed his kingdom jointly to Liholiho and his cousin Kekuaokalani. While Liholiho was entrusted with managing political affairs, his cousin was left responsible for spiritual matters. This separation of power did not prove to be a lasting one. The matter was decided at the Battle of Kuamo‘o in December 1819, where Liholiho emerged triumphant and his cousin was slain. The year 1819 would also see the ‘ai kapu religious system overturned by Liholiho and his stepmother, who had secured her role as Premier of the kingdom. In the years that followed, ceremonial and religious sites were transformed, and images of deities were destroyed or hidden away; 1820 saw Liholiho give permission for Christian missionaries to settle in the islands, a few years before he embarked on his fateful trip to Britain.
During the preparations for the voyage, feathered cloaks and capes were once again selected as appropriate gifts for foreign rulers: six – gathered in the British Museum exhibition – were presented to George IV, alongside a feathered helmet, while another cape was delivered to Pedro I of Brazil when the Hawaiian delegation broke their journey at Rio de Janeiro. While featherwork gifting played a significant role in international diplomacy and honoured the recipients of such exquisite gifts, other garments made of feathers played a more sombre role following the demise of Liholiho and Kamāmalu in London. When their bodies were temporarily interred at St Martin-in-the-Fields, prior to their transport to HMS Blonde, the coffins were draped with their cloaks. The ‘imposing effect’ of these vibrant garments, and the contrast they offered to the muted colours associated with mourning in London, was noted by The Times.
In response to the gifts, George IV is said to have promised not to take possession of Hawai‘i, but instead to watch over the archipelago and protect it from rival powers. He presented the members of the delegation with examples of contemporary British craftsmanship, too, in the form of watches bearing the Royal Arms, as well as silver tableware. A special gift was fashioned for one of Liholiho’s widows as well: a miniature wax likeness of the deceased king. Conveyed to her on HMS Blonde, it reportedly elicited an emotional response. The visitation to London also led to the appointment of Richard Charlton as the first British Consul to Hawai‘i. Following the death of Liholiho, his 11-year-old brother became king and was known as Kamehameha III. In the decades that followed, the kingdom engaged in increasingly nimble international diplomacy. Among the many causes of friction in an era of gunboat diplomacy was Richard Charlton’s contentious claim to some land at Honolulu.
In order to head off potential trouble, Kamehameha III dispatched envoys to Britain, France, and the United States in 1842. Their mission was to remind these countries of the peaceful relations they enjoyed with Hawai‘i, and to seek guarantees from them regarding Hawaiian sovereignty. On 28 November 1843, an Anglo-French proclamation to this effect was signed in London. While in London, the representatives of Kamehameha III visited the College of Arms, too, tasking them with creating a coat of arms for the Hawaiian Kingdom. An initial draft shows two figures in loincloths supporting the central shield. This element was soon amended to clothe the figures in the chiefly regalia of feathered cloaks and helmets. Careful study of the finalised design has revealed that those cloaks replicate the pattern of one that was on display in the British Museum at the time, suggesting that the designer visited to study an authentic example – one of the many exciting findings presented in the exhibition.
Tides of change and hope
Just as the feathered garments could play a key role in fashioning a distinctive emblem of Hawaiian sovereignty, they were in their turn changed by the myriad influences at work in an ever more connected world. A cape on display in the exhibition offers a fine example of this. At first glance, the bold crescent design in brilliant red, yellow, and black feathers appears entirely in keeping with the other examples. Closer inspection, though, reveals that the bundles of feathers on the cape were held in place by blue thread – possibly silk or wool – that had been imported to the archipelago.
Foreign influences were a source of more abrupt change as well. This was certainly the case in 1893, when a group of North American and European businessmen staged a coup, backed by US forces, and successfully overthrew the Hawaiian ruler Queen Lili‘uokalani. She wrote to Major James Wodehouse, the British consul resident in Hawai‘i, requesting assistance from Britain. Although Wodehouse duly campaigned for a restoration of the monarchy, no aid was forthcoming. Instead, the provisional government of Hawai‘i set the archipelago on a new trajectory, which would ultimately see it become the 50th state of the United States.
The exhibition at the British Museum does not stop there. Building on the deep and complex historical bond between Hawai‘i and Britain, it reveals how the ancestral works in the museum’s collections have become a resource for the Hawaiian community today, supporting resilience in the islands. Thanks to the ongoing significance of these extraordinary objects, we can be confident that their story is far from over.
Further information:
• The exhibition Hawai‘i: a kingdom crossing oceans will run at the British Museum until 25 May 2026. For more information and to book tickets, go to http://www.britishmuseum.org/exhibitions/hawaii-kingdom-crossing-oceans.
• A fascinating and magnificently illustrated volume has also been published to accompany the exhibition: A Christophe (ed.) (2026) Hawai‘i: a kingdom crossing oceans (The British Museum, ISBN 978-0714138008, £45).
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