first Hawaiian flag. The pattern flag, the first one made, was
afterward “fashioned into a child’s frock and worn on special occasions
by each one of the children in succession, and was long preserved as an
heirloom in the family.”
This was apparently a compromise between the flags of the two
antagonistic English-speaking nations. The Jack was retained to show
the king’s friendship for England. The stripes were said to represent
the red, white and blue of the American flag. They were eight in
number, to represent the eight principal islands of the group. It was a
combination of Hawaiian with European and American interests.
The old king was very proud of his beautiful new flag, and displayed it
from his palace and over the royal homes in other islands. It
superseded the Russian flag on Kauai. He built a new coral rock fort,
300 × 400 feet dimensions, with walls twelve feet high and twenty feet
thick. In it he placed forty guns, six, eight and twelve pounders, from
which thundering salutes were fired on every possible occasion. He gave
command of this fort to Captain Beckley, and over it flung his new flag
to the breeze.
He sent his flag to China at the masthead of a ship he had purchased
for the sandalwood trade. The captain of this ship, Alexander Adams,
found trouble waiting for him at Canton, “because the Chinese
authorities refused to recognise the Hawaiian flag, which had never
before been seen in that port.” We have the statement on good authority
that Captain Adams had to pay such heavy harbour dues that the report
thereof to Ka-meha-meha taught the Hawaiian king one of the principles
of civilised business, i.e., to charge fees for every boat entering his
harbour. He lost about $3,000 in this voyage to China, “chiefly owing
to the new flag.” The lesson learned concerning the harbour dues was
probably worth all that was lost, although the king lived less than two
years afterwards to enjoy his new source of income.
The flag has figured prominently in several international episodes.
The Hawaiian Islands were fertile fields to greedy land-loving rovers
of the seas. In 1842 and 1843 Mr. Charlton, an English consul, made
trouble for the Hawaiian chiefs by laying claim to a very valuable
piece of land in Honolulu, which the chiefs claimed could not possibly
have been given to him by the rightful owners. This was the foundation
of a series of disagreements. The consul was an open advocate of
English annexation, and reported a dangerous state of affairs to
England. Finally, leaving his consulate in the hands of a friend, he
went to England to present his own claims. Meanwhile, a captain of an
English frigate, Lord George Paulet, was sent to Honolulu. He seized
upon every pretext for advancing his intention of seizing the islands
in the name of the English crown. The king, Ka-meha-meha III, meanwhile
made earnest protest and planned resistance, but his wise counsellors
persuaded him not to give Lord Paulet any pretext for action, but to
forestall him by making a provisional cession of the kingdom pending
the appeal to the protection of the United States and England. On
February 25, 1843, the Hawaiian flag was hauled down and the Union Jack
was once more raised over a part of the islands. On February 25, 1794,
forty-nine years before, Vancouver’s flag-raising ceremony had taken
place. Like Vancouver, Lord Paulet evidently had little doubt about
England’s glad welcome of a new colonial possession.
Ka-meha-meha III made a short speech of protest, closing with the
words: “I have hope that the life of the land will be restored when my
conduct shall be justified.” Lord Paulet then took possession of the
fort, confiscated Hawaiian ships, compelled natives to enlist to form
an English army, and began to increase taxes to meet the expenses of
his new government. The king withdrew to another island, and, with his
cabinet, disclaimed the authority of Lord Paulet, and continued to
appeal to England.
This triumphal flight of the English flag was not at all permanent. In
the first part of July, about four months and a half after Lord
Paulet’s seizure of the islands, Commodore Kearney, in the old U. S.
frigate Constitution, entered Honolulu harbour. The native chiefs
visited his ship. Lord Paulet had collected all the Hawaiian flags and
destroyed them, but a new flag was hastily made and raised over the
visitors, and a salute fired in its honour—to Lord Paulet’s helpless
indignation.
However, in the new flag the colors of the bars were permanently
reversed. In this respect the modern Hawaiian flag is different from
the flag first made.
A few days later Admiral Thomas, commander of the English navy in the
Pacific, arrived in Honolulu, and “in most courteous terms solicited a
personal interview with the king.” In a few hours it became known that
he had come to restore the independence of the islands.
On Monday morning, July 31, 1843, the admiral issued a proclamation
restoring the islands to their king, and incidentally mentioning in
high terms the work of the American missionaries. Monday forenoon, “a
parade of several hundred English marines appeared on the plain of
Honolulu (now known as Thomas Square), with their officers, their
banners waving proudly and their arms glittering in the sunbeams.
Admiral Thomas and the suspended king proceeded thither in a carriage,
attended by the chiefs and a vast multitude of people. The English
standard bearers advanced towards his majesty, their flags bowed
gracefully, and a broad, beautiful Hawaiian banner, exhibiting a crown
and olive branch, was unfurled over the heads of the king and his
attending chieftains. This was saluted by the English troops with field
pieces, then by the guns of Lord Paulet’s ship, whose yards were manned
in homage to the restored sovereign. Then succeeded the roar of the
guns of the fort, Punchbowl battery, the admiral’s ship, the United
States ships and others.”
“Thomas Square” was so named and set apart as a perpetual park near the
heart of the city, in honour of this action of Admiral Thomas. Monday
afternoon the king and chiefs and several thousand people gathered in
the new native stone church, Kawaiahao, and held an enthusiastic praise
meeting. The king in an eloquent speech uttered a motto worthy of the
highest statesmanship. This was later adopted as the national motto and
inscribed on all Hawaiian coins: Ua mau ke ea o ka aina i ka
pono—“Perpetuated is the life of the land by its righteousness,” or
“The perpetuation of the life of the land depends upon the
righteousness thereof.” The church was beautifully decorated and on the
pulpit was the restored Hawaiian flag. The “army” enlisted by Lord
Paulet gladly renounced allegiance to England. The ships were restored
and the king’s cabinet again took the reins of government. It was not
long before word came that Europe and America had, as early as April,
recognised the independence of the Hawaiian Kingdom.
Undeterred by this English experience, a Frenchman thought it worth his
while to secure the little kingdom. In 1849 Admiral Tromelin sailed
into Honolulu harbour and made some emphatic demands, alleging that the
king had unlawfully fined a French ship. The king replied that the ship
had violated his laws and was necessarily held responsible. The admiral
at once landed an armed force with field pieces and scaling ladders and
captured the fort. The king, however, had withdrawn his troops, leaving
an empty fort with the Hawaiian flag flying from its staff. The
Frenchman did not quite dare to pull that flag down in the face of very
earnest protests from both the English and American consuls. The French
smashed calabashes, spiked the guns, poured powder into the harbour,
wrote on the walls of the fort that they were “Les Braves” and then
withdrew, turning their trouble over to their home government. For
nearly two years the French made trouble. At last the king,
Ka-meha-meha III, became tired and placed his kingdom “provisionally
under the protection of the United States,” declaring that the
protectorate should be “perpetual” if the relations with France were
not placed on a better footing. The Frenchmen soon discovered that the
difficulties could be easily settled, and the long list of grievances
“were reduced to two points, viz., the liberty of Catholic worship and
the trade in spirits.” This last meant the abundant entrance of French
brandy. “Nothing more was heard of the rest of the demands.”
Flag episodes after these experiences were limited to ordinary affairs
of government. Sometimes it floated proudly over fort and palace, while
salutes were fired from men-of-war entering the harbour. Sometimes it
hung at half mast over the palace while the body of some member of the
royal family or some one of high chief blood lay in state. Sometimes
its absence from the palace marked the king’s departure for some other
island. Its reappearance was the signal of the king’s return. It
floated over ministers’ and consuls’ offices in different parts of the
world and fulfilled its modest duty as the representative of one of
“the little kings.”
Then came the turbulent times of internal dissension through the reign
of Kalakaua and that of his sister, Liliuokalani, resulting in the
overthrow of the monarchy in 1893. January 14, 1893, the queen thought
herself strong enough to abrogate the Constitution of the islands and
promulgate a new Constitution suited to her own wishes. She found that
she had opened a volcano under her feet. She prorogued the Legislature
in the forenoon and attempted to install her new Constitution. Her
cabinet objected. A group of prominent citizens strengthened the
cabinet. An impromptu mass meeting was held in the afternoon and a
committee of public safety of thirteen was appointed. This was
Saturday. Sunday was a day of suppressed excitement. Monday, January
16, over 1,300 citizens gathered in the armory and authorised this
committee of public safety to take such steps as might be necessary.
That afternoon at 5 o’clock 300 United States marines and sailors were
landed. The marines were stationed at the American legation and the
sailors at Arion Hall.
The next day, January 17, the committee of public safety issued the
following proclamation:
“First—The Hawaiian monarchial system of government is hereby
abrogated.
“Second—A Provisional Government for the control and management of
public affairs and the protection of public peace is hereby
established, to exist until terms of union with the United States of
America have been negotiated and agreed upon.”
This Provisional Government, with President Dole at its head, under the
old Hawaiian flag, was at once recognised, under date of January 17, as
the “de facto government of the Hawaiian Islands,” by Minister Stevens
of the United States. January 18, ministers and consul-generals from
several nations hastened to hand in their recognition of the new
government, and on the 19th English and Japanese ministers practically
completed the list.
This continued until February 1, 1893, when negotiations had progressed
so far that United States Minister Stevens felt safe in raising the
Stars and Stripes over the government buildings and declaring a
protectorate. This was the fourth time that a far-away representative
of a foreign power had felt certain that his annexation of Hawaii would
be joyfully received by his home government. And this fourth act was
subject to reversal. Five prominent men went to Washington, empowered
to make a treaty of annexation with the United States. March 4, 1893,
President Cleveland was inaugurated. He withdrew the treaty from
consideration by the Senate. Then came the visit of “Paramount Blount,”
who arrived in Honolulu March 29.
The Provisional Government was strongly entrenched, and Mr. Blount
found that the only thing he could do was to withdraw United States
protection.
April 1st the announcement was made in the morning papers that the
United States flag would be lowered at 11 o’clock, and the Hawaiian
flag restored as the emblem of the Provisional Government. For the
brief space of almost two months the Stars and Stripes had floated over
Hawaii.
Hundreds of people flocked to the spacious grounds around the
government buildings. It was a curious crowd—Orientals, Europeans,
Africans and Americans—mingling together. The Stars and Stripes slipped
down the rattling lines from the flagstaff when the bugle call was
sounded. “There was another gleam of colour and the Hawaiian flag
crawled up the now taut ropes and shook itself free, its blue, white
and crimson bars floating in their accustomed place. The silence was
undisturbed. The troops of the Provisional Government presented arms,
but the American men-of-war in the harbour did not salute the restored
flag.”
As time passed, President Cleveland’s desire to restore the monarchy
became more and more apparent, and under the same old Hawaiian colours,
“on July 4, 1894, the Constitution of the Republic of Hawaii was
promulgated,” and all designs for United States interference were
thwarted. The beautiful and loved flag of Hawaii, the royal flag from
the times of Ka-meha-meha I, the ensign of the Provisional Government,
unchanged, became the banner of the first Republic of the Pacific
Ocean.
It remained the flag of the Republic until the news reached Honolulu
that President McKinley, on July 7, 1898, had signed the joint
resolution of annexation adopted by both houses of Congress.
It was necessary that the officials of the newly annexed islands should
take the oath of allegiance to the United States, and that the final
change of government should be marked by a new and authorised
flag-raising ceremony. Great preparations were made for the solemn
exercises attending the transfer of the Republic of Hawaii to the
Republic of the United States. On August 12, 1898, thousands of people
again crowded into the government grounds. The National Guard of Hawaii
and companies of United States marines were drawn up around the former
palace. In front of the palace, now the Capitol Building, was a
grandstand, about which the Hawaiian and United States colours were
intertwined.
The Hawaiian and United States officials, the diplomatic corps and a
few friends filled the grandstand. After prayers came the formal
transfer of sovereignty.
The final salute to the Hawaiian emblem of an independent nation was
fired. As the last report died away in echoes among the surrounding
hills, the Hawaiian national anthem, “Hawaii Ponoi,” in solemn
grandeur, stirred the hearts of the multitude. Mrs. Garland, an
eye-witness, said: “The music ceased and for one instant the Hawaiian
flag still floated, then as it was slowly lowered, utter stillness held
every one mute. A great wave of intense feeling seemed to flow over the
people. For the moment we were in a country without a flag. There were
few who did not weep. Then a clear sounding call from the bugles of the
s. s. Philadelphia, a sudden stir through all the throng, and then
with the triumphant ringing strains of the ‘Star Spangled Banner,’ up
rose majestically our own dear flag, reaching the truck with the last
grand chord. Three mighty cheers burst forth. Men grasped each other by
the hand, and hats and handkerchiefs waved. A group of Hawaiian young
women stood behind us. As the Stars and Stripes went up, from one came
the repressed exclamation, ‘Oh, you beautiful thing.’”
Then President Dole and his cabinet took the oath of allegiance to the
United States. The soldiers marched to their barracks to be sworn into
their new service. The crowd dispersed, while salutes were fired from
the ships in the harbour. The American flag floats in its own
influential place over the palace, not as a kingly, but as a republican
flag. The Hawaiian flag still floats over many a home in the islands,
as well as over the corner posts of the old palace under the American
flag, as the permanent flag of the Territory of Hawaii.
The Hawaiian flag is surrounded by many historical memories which mean
much to residents of both native and foreign descent, and they rejoice
that the dear old flag is not lost from the nation’s history. As one
writer says, this feeling shows that “the flag does not represent so
much a particular form of government as it does the great heart of the
people which throbs beneath.”
NOTES
[1] This is one of the most ancient legends in Hawaiian annals.
[2] Laa-mai-Kahiki means Laa-from-Kahiki in the Hawaiian language, or
Raa-from-Tahiti in the Tahitian dialect. In the Hawaiian stories he was
always known as Laa-mai-Kahiki. He was a very high chief from Hawaii
absorbed in the royal line of Tahiti. The letter “r” being used for “l”
and “t” for “k” explains the slight difference in the names, Laa and
Raa-Kahiki and Tahiti. This is simply such a change as is found in
dialects everywhere.