Readings

Mai, the voyaging Ra’iatean, in a 1775 portrait by Joshua Reynolds that is now highly controversial. Creative Commons

The Warrior, the Voyager, and the Artist: Three Lives in an Age of Empire By Kate Fullagar, published by Yale University Press, New Haven, 2020. Hardcover, 306 pages, illustrated, index. ISBN 9780300243062 RRP $66.95 Vaughan Evans Library 325.3410922 FUL

Traits and portraits

Three 18th-century worlds, melded in art

IN THE SUMMER OF 1776, as the American colonies declared themselves free of the King’s domain, Sir Joshua Reynolds exhibited at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. As its President, Reynolds took the liberty of presenting 13 paintings for the season, predominantly portraits. Number 236 in the catalogue was entitled simply Omiah. Even within this single word, misrepresentations abound. The subject of the work was not ‘Omiah’, or even ‘Omai’, as he was commonly known in Georgian Britain. Mai was a 20-year-old venturer who had sailed to England aboard the former Whitby collier HMS Adventure. Born on Ra‘iatea – an island neighbour of Tahiti – he had chanced upon James Cook’s second Pacific expedition. When asked his name, the young man replied ‘Omai’ – ‘I am Mai’. The misnomer survives to this day, thanks in no small part to Reynolds’ portrayal. Mai is one of a trio of 18th-century characters whose worlds, journeys and portraits are enfolded into Kate Fullagar’s master work of historical empathy. Ranging from the 1720s until the close of the century, The Warrior, the Voyager and the Artist explores the overlaps of three dynamic realms. The first was the Cherokee nation, both bounded and bruised by the encroaching British colony of Virginia. Here we meet Ostenaco, whom Fullagar terms a ‘warrior–diplomat’. His formative years were characterised by bitter warfare with the nearby Creek people; he subsequently allied with the adjacent Chota. Fullagar’s writing is at her richest here, drawing us into Native American beliefs and politics, including pragmatic attempts to parlay with the colonisers and their soldiery. War and peace, friend and adversary, were never simple matters for Ostenaco. Somewhat self-appointed, in 1762 he elected to join two other Cherokee representatives on a mission to England. As Britain’s global war with France began to wind down, the captured naval snow L’Epreuve conveyed them to Plymouth. Arriving in London, the Cherokee envoys became celebrated curiosities before earning an audience with George III. During this English interlude, Ostenaco sat for a portrait by the rising Reynolds. It was not a success. Despite the potential audience appeal, Reynolds completed but did not exhibit this oil, which he titled Scyacust Utah – a poor transliteration of ‘skiagusta Ostenaca’, meaning ‘war chief Ostenaco’. While the sitter’s impressions are not recorded, Fullagar suggests Ostenaco appreciated that portraiture was ‘always of the most significant leaders in a society, intended also to remind future viewers of those leaders and their values after death’.

The Warrior, the Voyager and the Artist explores the overlaps of three dynamic realms

01 Joseph Banks Esq, engraving from a 1774 painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds. Mai lodged with Banks after he arrived in London in 1774. National Maritime Collection ANMM 00004855

02 Ostenaco was a highly respected Cherokee warrior, but Reynolds was unhappy with this portrait and never exhibited it. Creative Commons

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These were, of course, prime reasons for Reynolds to specialise in portraits. His successes – both artistic and political – help explain the artist’s knighthood and his ascension to the inaugural presidency of the Royal Academy. Reynolds’ sitters included Joseph Banks, famed for his HMB Endeavour voyage with Cook, and soon to become president of the parallel Royal Society. Establishment art was no liberal salon, however. Reynolds’ world was one in which the English army led the dissolution of Scottish autonomy, before Britain’s combined arms forced the diminution of France’s global empire. Yet even as the nation’s military, commercial and diplomatic opportunities grew, this imperium was challenged by American truculence. By 1775 Reynolds’ star was also wavering, with some growing ‘tired of his constantly winning ways, the firmness of his dictates about what constituted proper art, the relentlessness of his social and professional successes’. This was the time when Mai disembarked in Portsmouth. Arriving in 1774, he lodged with Banks and posed for Reynolds late the following year. Depicted in an inaccurate Orientalist turban and gowns, Mai’s hands and wrists are spotted with tattoos. Rather than a realistic rendering of a venturesome Polynesian, Fullagar suggests that the final portrait is ‘a conglomeration of a wide range of stereotypes’. Mai, like Ostenaco before him, pointedly sought the acquaintance of George III. In addition to his tattoos, Mai also bore the scars of being twice wounded by maritime marauders. The first projectile to pierce his body was blasted from the cannon of HMS Dolphin, lying off Tahiti in 1767. Mai’s second scar was the result of being speared on Huahine five years later, during a Bora Boran attack in the name of the god ‘Oro. These two encounters underpinned Mai’s voyage to England, and his determination to return to Huahine. Four years with Britons had convinced him of the power of their weapons and the symbolic strength he anticipated as their ally. In 1777 Cook welcomed him aboard HMS Resolution for a third and final foray into the South Seas, where Mai acted sometimes as an interlocutor and elsewhere an interloper during contact with First Nations peoples. Yet Cook scuppered Mai’s hopes of being outfitted to lead a reprisal war against Bora Bora, leaving him embittered and vulnerable. Meanwhile, in Chickamauga, Ostenaco wearied of being courted by both revolutionary and Native American factions. ‘Much as he had done at other key moments in his life’, Fullagar empathises, ‘Ostenaco turned what appeared to be a sad tale of Indigenous reaction to foreign forces into an Indigenous tale of deliberate, local creativity for a group’s survival’. The Warrior, the Voyager, and the Artist is an extraordinary achievement. Its creative prose is matched by exhaustive research and a generosity of spirit that accords its three protagonists equal validity, volition and voice. It draws us deep into parallel worlds that were increasingly entwined by the late 18th century, linking Pacific, American and British history in the decades before the First Fleet forced new encounters on Australian shores. While pitched at an academic audience, this book will appeal to many readers and well deserved its 2021 NSW Premier’s History Award.

Kate Fullagar’s book is a master work of historical empathy

Reviewer Dr Peter Hobbins is the museum’s Head of Knowledge.

White Russians, Red Peril: A Cold War History of Migration to Australia By Sheila Fitzpatrick. Published by La Trobe University Press, Melbourne, 2021. Softcover, 384 pages, tables, index. ISBN 9781760641863. RRP $35.00 Vaughan Evans Library 994.0049171 FIT

A complex microcosm

Australia’s Russian diaspora

‘POPULATE OR PERISH’ – the slogan for Australia’s post-war immigration program implied great urgency. A country with a small population seemed unable to cope with the challenges of the future, especially competing with nations like China and Japan. Urgency, however, did not mean openness. Australia’s most ambitious immigration program to date was extremely restrictive and governed by both spoken and unspoken rules. In White Russians, Red Peril, Sheila Fitzpatrick looks at a complex and diverse group that entered Australia as immigrants: 25,000 Russians, who arrived in Australia after the end of World War II. Many of these ‘Russians’ (an ill-defined phrase in a world where borders were constantly shifting and countries were dissolved and restored) had long careers as displaced persons behind them. Displaced persons camps in Europe were just the last in a series of temporary homes. For some, the Russian Revolution was the event that made them stateless and homeless, and even though these so-called ‘White Russians’ were not technically eligible for post-World War II resettlement, many were able to overcome this problem with a little ingenuity. The expansion of Soviet Russia led to sizeable Russian diasporas around the world. Shanghai, already a destabilised melting pot when the Russians arrived, was one of them. Cities like Harbin in China were others. These groups were then joined by those who lost their homes in Eastern Europe during World War II and were either unable or unwilling to return to communistdominated countries. Fitzpatrick describes these backgrounds in depth for a reason: they had a decisive impact on the lives of these émigrés in Australia. While ‘White Russian’ versus ‘Red Russian’ could be used in the context of the Russian Civil War, it took on a different connotation after World War II. Had the potential immigrants fought for Soviet Russia against Nazi Germany, or had they decided that fighting against the communists justified working for the Nazis? Were they forced to join Nazi organisations, or did they co-operate willingly? Fitzpatrick shows that the impact of these background histories on the immigration process was heavily influenced by real-world politics. Nazi loyalty or co-operation could potentially negate any chance of being selected for migration to Australia, at least at the start of the post-war migration program.

The general public in Australia thought of Russian immigrants as former citizens of Soviet Russia, without reflecting on the complexities of a multi-ethnic state

Russians like the Seiz family participated in the rich cultural life of Harbin. Manchurian dance troupes were an important part of the community until most Russians had to flee the city after the establishment of the People’s Republic of China. The Seiz family fled to Australia. Image Australian Maritime Collection 00054795

However, those who had worked against Soviet Russia in any capacity, even by fighting actively for the Germans, were soon defined as acceptable by Australia, because this was seen as proof of anti-communist activity. Most Australians thought of Russian immigrants as former citizens of Soviet Russia, without reflecting on the complexities of its having been a multi-ethnic state. Using oral history interviews, Fitzpatrick shows how complex both the real and constructed identities of these immigrants were. As communism gained more and more traction in Russia, China and other countries, sympathy for those who fled their homeland became mixed with the fear of possible spies and instigators. But these challenges did not stop the immigrants from developing a rich cultural life. Establishing Scout chapters, clubs, churches and even schools was not new to them – they had done so before in places like Shanghai and Harbin. However, doing so in Australia did not create a cohesive Russian community. The cracks between ‘White Russians’, communist sympathisers, those who came from China or Europe and the displaced of the Russian Civil War and World War II became clearly visible. Fitzpatrick’s book brings this complex and conflictwrought microcosm to life. Many of these immigrants had to develop two new homes: one in their new country of residence, and another one in these competing Russian communities. Cold War tensions made achieving both goals more difficult. Russian intelligence operations in Australia tried to convince immigrants to repatriate or co-operate, and while the impact of these efforts seemed to have been low, it did not help to create acceptance for the Russian immigrants or more co-operation between their communities.

Fitzpatrick shows that for many Russian immigrants, their heritage was a source of pride, but also of confusion and significant challenges. Community work, anti-communist sentiment and commitment to the ideals of Australia did not guarantee acceptance by the Australian public. While the reader can sometimes become a little lost in a plethora of specific examples, Fitzpatrick succeeds in giving this group of immigrants the historical and social depth they deserve.

Reviewer Dr Roland Leikauf is the museum’s Curator of Post-war Immigration.

Image Joy Lai

New books in the Vaughan Evans Library Are you exploring your family history, chasing oceanic adventures or seeking a deep understanding of our Indigenous maritime cultures? Then start your voyage of discovery in the museum’s Vaughan Evans Library. Each month we add new works across a wide range of topics, including naval history, immigration, diverse local cultures, ocean science, river stories, Australian history, school textbooks and titles for kids. We also offer a variety of maritime, genealogical and general research databases. Check our library catalogue, schedule a visit and enjoy our wonderful new books. Or you can request many of our titles on interlibrary loan via your own local library.

Enjoy some of our new titles

Ruth Balint Destination Elsewhere: Displaced persons and their quest to leave postwar Europe Call number 940.53145 BAL Denis Byrne The Heritage Corridor: A transnational approach to the heritage of Chinese migration Call number 304.851 BYR

Pearl Binder Treasure Islands: The trials of the ocean islanders Call number 996.8 BIN

Jeremy Black Naval Warfare: A global history since 1860 Call number 359 BLA

Phillip Bradley Salamaua 1943 Call number 940.542653 BRA

Don and Sue Brian Offshore Whalers at Norfolk Island in the Days of Sail: American, British and colonial deep-sea whalers Call number 639.28 BRI

Angus Britts Neglected Skies: The demise of British naval power in the Far East, 1922–42 Call number 940.5425 BRI Danielle Clode In Search of the Woman Who Sailed the World Call number 410.4092 CLO

A J (Tony) Coen River & Coastal Vessels Trading Out of Hobart, 1832–2015 Call number 387.209946 COE

Alexandra Dellios and Eureka Henrich (eds) Migrant, Multicultural and Diasporic Heritage: Beyond and between borders Call number 305.9069 DEL

John Dowson Fremantle Port: Pictorial history Call number 387.1099411 DOW

David Hill Convict Colony: The remarkable story of the fledgling settlement that survived against the odds Call number 994.402 HIL Rebecca Huntley Australia Fair: Listening to the nation Call number 300.994 HUN

Jan C Jansen (ed) Refugee Crises, 1945–2000: Political and societal responses in international comparison Call number 362.8709 REF

Louise C Johnson, Tanja Luckins and David Walker The Story of Australia: A new history of people and place Call number 994 STO

Yasuko Hassall Kobayashi and Shinnosuke Takahashi (eds) Transpacific Visions: Connected histories of the Pacific across north and south Call number 990 TRA

Waldemar Ossowski (ed) The Copper Ship: A medieval shipwreck and its cargo Call number 910.45309438 COP Amra Pajalic and Demet Divaroren (eds) Growing up Muslim in Australia: Coming of age Call number 305.69794 PAJ

Elspeth Probyn, Kate Johnston and Nancy Lee (eds) Sustaining Seas: Oceanic space and the politics of care Call number 551.45 SUS

Michael Stoddart The Blythe Star Tragedy: How indifference and neglect sank a ship and cost three men their lives Call number 910.4530994 STO

Randi Svensen A Changing Tide: The history of Berrys Bay Call number 623.8209941 SVE

Richard Turner Made in Lancashire: A collective biography of assisted migrants from Lancashire to Victoria 1852–1853 Call number 304.894041 TUR