HKB
[Page 1]
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 38
UNWRITTEN LITERATURE
OF HAWAII
THE SACRED SONGS OF THE HULA
COLLECTED AND TRANSLATED, WITH
NOTES AND AN ACCOUNT OF THE HULA
BY NATHANIEL B. EMERSON, A.M., M.D.
WASHINGTON
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE
1909
[Page 2][Blank]
[Page 3]
PREFATORY NOTE
Previous to the year 1906 the researches of the Bureau were
restricted to the American Indians, but by act of Congress
approved June 30 of that year the scope of its operations was
extended to include the natives of the Hawaiian islands.
Funds were not specifically provided, however, for
prosecuting investigations among these people, and in the
absence of an appropriation for this purpose it was
considered inadvisable to restrict the systematic
investigations among the Indian tribes in order that the new
field might be entered. Fortunately the publication of
valuable data pertaining to Hawaii is already provided for,
and the present memoir by Doctor Emerson is the first of the
Bureau’s Hawaiian series. It is expected that this Bulletin
will be followed shortly by one comprising an extended list
of works relating to Hawaii, compiled by Prof. H.M. Ballou
and Dr. Cyrus Thomas.
W.H. HOLMES,
*Chief.*
[Page 4] [Blank]
[Page 5]
CONTENTS
Page
Introduction 7
I. The hula 11
II. The halau; the kuahu—their decoration and consecration 14
III. The gods of the hula 23
IV. Support and organization of the hula 26
V. Ceremonies of graduation; debut of a hula dancer 31
VI. The password—the song of admission 38
VII. Worship at the altar of the halau 42
VIII. Costume of the hula dancer 49
IX. The hula alá’a-papa 57
X. The hula pa-ipu, or kuolo 73
XI. The hula ki’i 91
XII. The hula pahu 103
XIII. The hula úliulí 107
XIV. The hula puili 113
XV. The hula ka-laau 116
XVI. The hula ili-ili 120
XVII. The hula kaekeeke 122
XVIII. An intermission 126
XIX. The hula niau-kani 132
XX. The hula ohe 135
XXI. The music and musical instruments of the Hawaiians 138
XXII. Gesture 176
XXIII. The hula pa-hua 183
XXIV. The hula Pele 186
XXV, The hula pa’i-umauma 202
XXVI. The hula ku’i Molokai 207
XXVII. The hula kielei 210
XXVIII. The hula mú’u-mú’u 212
XXIX. The hula kolani 216
XXX. The hula kolea 219
XXXI. The hula manó 221
XXXII. The hula ilio 223
XXXIII. The hula pua’a 228
XXXIV. The hula ohelo 233
XXXV. Thehula kilu 235
XXXVI. The hula hoonaná 244
XXXVII. The hula ulili 246
XXXVIII. The hula o-niu 248
XXXIX. The hula ku’i 250
XL. The oli 254
XLI. The water of Kane 257
XLII. General review 260
Glossary 265
Index 271
[Page 6]
ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
PLATE I. Female dancing in hula costume Frontispiece II. Íe-íe (Freycinetia arnotti) leaves and fruit 19 III. Hála-pépe (Dracaena aurea) 24 IV. Maile (Alyxia myrtillifolia) wreath 32 V. Ti (Dracaena terminalis) 44 VI. Ilima (Sida fallax), lei and flowers 56 VII. Ipu hula, gourd drum 73 VIII. Marionettes (Maile-pakaha, Nihi-au-moe) 91 IX. Marionette (Maka-kú) 93 X. Pahu hula, hula drum 103 XI. Úli-ulí, a gourd rattle 107 XII. Hawaiian tree-snails (Achatinella) 120 XIII. Lehua (Metrosideros polymorpha) flowers and leaves 126 XIV. Hawaiian trumpet, pu (Cassis madagascarensis) 131 XV. Woman playing on the nose-flute (ohe-hano-ihu) 135 XVI. Pu-niu, a drum 142 XVII. Hawaiian musician playing on the uku-lele 164 XVIII. Hala fruit bunch and drupe with a “lei” 170 XIX. Pu (Triton tritonis) 172 XX. Phyllodia and true leaves of the koa (Acacia koa) 181 XXI. Pala-palai ferns 194 XXII. Awa-puhi, a Hawaiian ginger 210 XXIII. Hinano hala 235 XXIV. Lady dancing the hula ku’i 250 FIGURE 1. Puíli, bamboo rattle 113 2. Ka, drumstick for pu-niu 142 3. Ohe-hano-ihu, nose-flute 145
MUSICAL PIECES
I. Range of the nose-flute—Elsner 146 II. Music from the nose-flute—Elsner 146 III. The ukeké (as played by Keaonaloa)—Eisner 149 IV. Song from the hula pa’i-umauma—Berger 153 V. Song from the hula pa-ipu—Berger 153 VI. Song for the hula Pele—Berger 154 VII. Oli and mele from the hula ala’a-papa—Yarndley 156 VIII. He Inoa no Kamehameha—Byington 162 IX. Song, Poli Anuanu—Yarndley 164 X. Song, Hua-hua’i—Yarndley 166 XI. Song, Ka Mawae—Berger 167 XII. Song, Like no a Like—Berger 168 XIII. Song, Pili Aoao—Berger 169 XIV. Hawaii Ponoi—Berger 172
[Page 7]
INTRODUCTION
This book is for the greater part a collection of Hawaiian
songs and poetic pieces that have done service from time
immemorial as the stock supply of the *hula*. The descriptive
portions have been added, not because the poetical parts
could not stand by themselves, but to furnish the proper
setting and to answer the questions of those who want to
know.
Now, the hula stood for very much to the ancient Hawaiian; it
was to him in place of our concert-hall and lecture-room, our
opera and theater, and thus became one of his chief means of
social enjoyment. Besides this, it kept the communal
imagination in living touch with the nation’s legendary past.
The hula had songs proper to itself, but it found a mine of
inexhaustible wealth in the epics and wonder-myths that
celebrated the doings of the volcano goddess Pele and her
compeers. Thus in the cantillations of the old-time hula we
find a ready-made anthology that includes every species of
composition in the whole range of Hawaiian poetry. This
epic[1] of Pele was chiefly a more or less detached series of
poems forming a story addressed not to the closet-reader, but
to the eye and ear and heart of the assembled chiefs and
people; and it was sung. The Hawaiian song, its note of joy
par excellence, was the *oli*; but it must be noted that in
every species of Hawaiian poetry, *mele*—whether epic or
eulogy or prayer, sounding through them all we shall find the
lyric note.
[Footnote 1: It might be termed a handful of lyrics strung on
an epic thread.]
The most telling record of a people’s intimate life is the
record which it unconsciously makes in its songs. This record
which the Hawaiian people have left of themselves is full and
specific. When, therefore, we ask what emotions stirred the
heart of the old-time Hawaiian as he approached the great
themes of life and death, of ambition and jealousy, of sexual
passion, of romantic love, of conjugal love, and parental
love, what his attitude toward nature and the dread forces of
earthquake and storm, and the mysteries of spirit and the
hereafter, we shall find our answer in the songs and prayers
and recitations of the hula.
The hula, it is true, has been unfortunate in the mode and
manner of its introduction to us moderns. An institution of
divine, that is, religious, origin, the hula in modern times
[Page 8] has wandered so far and fallen so low that foreign and critical esteem has come to associate it with the riotous and passionate ebullitions of Polynesian kings and the amorous posturing of their voluptuaries. We must make a just distinction, however, between the gestures and bodily contortions presented by the men and women, the actors in the hula, and their uttered words. “The voice is Jacob’s voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.” In truth, the actors in the hula no longer suit the action to the word. The utterance harks back to the golden age; the gesture is trumped up by the passion of the hour, or dictated by the master of the hula, to whom the real meaning of the old bards is ofttimes a sealed casket. Whatever indelicacy attaches in modern times to some of the gestures and contortions of the hula dancers, the old-time hula songs in large measure were untainted with grossness. If there ever were a Polynesian Arcadia, and if it were possible for true reports of the doings and sayings of the Polynesians to reach us from that happy land—reports of their joys and sorrows, their love-makings and their jealousies, their family spats and reconciliations, their worship of beauty and of the gods and goddesses who walked in the garden of beauty—we may say, I think, that such a report would be in substantial agreement with the report that is here offered; but, if one’s virtue will not endure the love-making of Arcadia, let him banish the myth from his imagination and hie to a convent or a nunnery.
If this book does nothing more than prove that savages are
only children of a younger growth than ourselves, that what
we find them to have been we ourselves—in our
ancestors—once were, the labor of making it will have been
not in vain.
For an account of the first hula we may look to the story
of Pele. On one occasion that goddess begged her sisters to
dance and sing before her, but they all excused themselves,
saying they did not know the art. At that moment in came
little Hiiaka, the youngest and the favorite. Unknown to her
sisters, the little maiden had practised the dance under the
tuition of her friend, the beautiful but ill-fated Hopoe.
When banteringly invited to dance, to the surprise of all,
Hiiaka modestly complied. The wave-beaten sand-beach was her
floor, the open air her hall. Feet and hands and swaying
form kept time to her improvisation:
Look, Puna is a-dance in the wind;
The palm groves of Kea-au shaken.
Haena and the woman Hopoe dance and sing
On the beach Nana-huki,
A dance of purest delight,
Down by the sea Nana-huki.
The nature of this work has made it necessary to use
occasional Hawaiian words in the technical parts. At their
[Page 9] first introduction it has seemed fitting that they should be distinguished by italics; but, once given the entrée, it is assumed that, as a rule, they will be granted the rights of free speech without further explanation.
A glossary, which explains all the Hawaiian words used in the
prose text, is appended. Let no one imagine, however, that by
the use of this little crutch alone he will be enabled to
walk or stumble through the foreign ways of the simplest
Hawaiian *mele*. Notes, often copious, have been appended to
many of the mele, designed to exhaust neither the subject nor
the reader, but to answer some of the questions of the
intelligent thinker.
Thanks, many thanks, are due, first, to those native
Hawaiians who have so far broken with the old superstitious
tradition of concealment as to unearth so much of the
unwritten literary wealth stored in Hawaiian memories;
second, to those who have kindly contributed criticism,
suggestion, material at the different stages of this book’s
progress; and, lastly, to those dear friends of the author’s
youth—living or dead—whose kindness has made it possible to
send out this fledgling to the world. The author feels under
special obligations to Dr. Titus Munson Coan, of New York,
for a painstaking revision of the manuscript.
HONOLULU, HAWAII.
[Page 10][Blank]
[Page 11]
LITERATURE OF HAWAII
By NATHANIEL B. EMERSON
I.—THE HULA
One turns from the study of old genealogies, myths, and
traditions of the Hawaiians with a hungry despair at finding
in them means so small for picturing the people themselves,
their human interests and passions; but when it comes to the
hula and the whole train of feelings and sentiments that made
their entrances and exits in the *halau* (the hall of the
hula) one perceives that in this he has found the door to the
heart of the people. So intimate and of so simple confidence
are the revelations the people make of themselves in their
songs and prattlings that when one undertakes to report what
he has heard and to translate into the terms of modern speech
what he has received in confidence, as it were, he almost
blushes, as if he had been guilty of spying on Adam and Eve
in their nuptial bower. Alas, if one could but muffle his
speech with the unconscious lisp of infancy, or veil and tone
his picture to correspond to the perspective of antiquity, he
might feel at least that, like Watteau, he had dealt
worthily, if not truly, with that ideal age which we ever
think of as the world’s garden period.
The Hawaiians, it is true, were many removes from being
primitives; their dreams, however, harked back to a period
that was close to the world’s infancy. Their remote ancestry
was, perhaps, akin to ours—Aryan, at least Asiatic—but the
orbit of their evolution seems to have led them away from the
strenuous discipline that has whipped the Anglo-Saxon branch
into fighting shape with fortune.
If one comes to the study of the hula and its songs in the
spirit of a censorious moralist he will find nothing for him;
if as a pure ethnologist, he will take pleasure in pointing
out the physical resemblances of the Hawaiian dance to the
languorous grace of the Nautch girls, of the geisha, and
other oriental dancers. But if he comes as a student and
lover of human nature, back of the sensuous posturings, in
the emotional language of the songs he will find himself
entering the playground of the human race.
The hula was a religious service, in which poetry, music,
pantomime, and the dance lent themselves, under the forms of
[Page 12] dramatic art, to the refreshment of men’s minds. Its view of life was idyllic, and it gave itself to the celebration of those mythical times when gods and goddesses moved on the earth as men and women and when men and women were as gods. As to subject-matter, its warp was spun largely from the bowels of the old-time mythology into cords through which the race maintained vital connection with its mysterious past. Interwoven with these, forming the woof, were threads of a thousand hues and of many fabrics, representing the imaginations of the poet, the speculations of the philosopher, the aspirations of many a thirsty soul, as well as the ravings and flame-colored pictures of the sensualist, the mutterings and incantations of the kahuna, the mysteries and paraphernalia of Polynesian mythology, the annals of the nation’s history—the material, in fact, which in another nation and under different circumstances would have gone to the making of its poetry, its drama, its opera, its literature.
The people were superstitiously religious; one finds their
drama saturated with religious feeling, hedged about with
tabu, loaded down with prayer and sacrifice. They were
poetical; nature was full of voices for their ears; their
thoughts came to them as images; nature was to them an
allegory; all this found expression in their dramatic art.
They were musical; their drama must needs be cast in forms to
suit their ideas of rhythm, of melody, and of poetic harmony.
They were, moreover, the children of passion, sensuous,
worshipful of whatever lends itself to pleasure. How, then,
could the dramatic efforts of this primitive people, still in
the bonds of animalism, escape the note of passion? The songs
and other poetic pieces which have come down to us from the
remotest antiquity are generally inspired with a purer
sentiment and a loftier purpose than the modern; and it may
be said of them all that when they do step into the mud it is
not to tarry and wallow in it; it is rather with the
unconscious naiveté of a child thinking no evil.
On the principle of “the terminal conversion of opposites,”
which the author once heard an old philosopher expound, the
most advanced modern is better able to hark back to the
sweetness and light and music of the primeval world than the
veriest wigwam-dweller that ever chipped an arrowhead. It is
not so much what the primitive man can give us as what we can
find in him that is worth our while. The light that a Goethe,
a Thoreau, or a Kipling can project into Arcadia is mirrored
in his own nature.
If one mistakes not the temper and mind of this generation,
we are living in an age that is not content to let perish one
seed of thought or one single phase of life that can be
rescued from the drift of time. We mourn the extinction of
the buffalo of the plains and of the birds of the islands,
[Page 13] rightly thinking that life is somewhat less rich and full without them. What of the people of the plains and of the islands of the sea? Is their contribution so nothingless that one can affirm that the orbit of man’s mind is complete without it?
Comparison is unavoidable between the place held by the dance
in ancient Hawaii and that occupied by the dance in our
modern society. The ancient Hawaiians did not personally and
informally indulge in the dance for their own amusement, as
does pleasure-loving society at the present time. Like the
Shah of Persia, but for very different reasons, Hawaiians of
the old time left it to be done for them by a body of trained
and paid performers. This was not because the art and
practice of the hula were held in disrepute—quite the
reverse—but because the hula was an accomplishment requiring
special education and arduous training in both song and
dance, and more especially because it was a religious matter,
to be guarded against profanation by the observance of tabus
and the performance of priestly rites.
This fact, which we find paralleled in every form of communal
amusement, sport, and entertainment in ancient Hawaii, sheds
a strong light on the genius of the Hawaiian. We are wont to
think of the old-time Hawaiians as light-hearted children of
nature, given to spontaneous outbursts of song and dance as
the mood seized them; quite as the rustics of “merrie
England” joined hands and tripped “the light fantastic toe”
in the joyous month of May or shouted the harvest home at a
later season. The genius of the Hawaiian was different. With
him the dance was an affair of premeditation, an organized
effort, guarded by the traditions of a somber religion. And
this characteristic, with qualifications, will be found to
belong to popular Hawaiian sport and amusement of every
variety. Exception must be made, of course, of the
unorganized sports of childhood. One is almost inclined to
generalize and to say that those children of nature, as we
are wont to call them, in this regard were less free and
spontaneous than the more advanced race to which we are proud
to belong. But if the approaches to the temple of Terpsichore
with them were more guarded, we may confidently assert that
their enjoyment therein was deeper and more abandoned.
[Page 14]
II.—THE HALAU; THE KUAHU—THEIR DECORATION
AND CONSECRATION
THE HALAU
In building a halau, or hall, in which to perform the hula a
Hawaiian of the old, old time was making a temple for his
god. In later and degenerate ages almost any structure would
serve the purpose; it might be a flimsy shed or an
extemporaneous *lanai* such as is used to shelter that _al
fresco* entertainment, the *luau_. But in the old times of
strict tabu and rigorous etiquette, when the chief had but to
lift his hand and the entire population of a district
ransacked plain, valley, and mountain to collect the poles,
beams, thatch, and cordstuff; when the workers were so
numerous that the structure grew and took shape in a day, we
may well believe that ambitious and punctilious patrons of
the hula, such as La’a, Liloa, or Lono-i-ka-makahiki, did not
allow the divine art of Laka to house in a barn.
The choice of a site was a matter of prime importance. A
formidable code enunciated the principles governing the
selection. But—a matter of great solicitude—there were
omens to be heeded, snares and pitfalls devised by the
superstitious mind for its own entanglement. The untimely
sneeze, the ophthalmic eye, the hunched back were omens to be
shunned.
Within historic times, since the abrogation of the tabu
system and the loosening of the old polytheistic ideas, there
has been in the hula a lowering of former standards, in some
respects a degeneration. The old gods, however, were not
entirely dethroned; the people of the hula still continued to
maintain the form of divine service and still appealed to
them for good luck; but the soul of worship had exhaled; the
main study now was to make of the hula a pecuniary success.
In an important sense the old way was in sympathy with the
thought, “Except God be with the workmen, they labor in vain
that build the house.” The means for gaining divine favor and
averting the frown of the gods were those practised by all
religionists in the infantile state of the human mind—the
observance of fasts and tabus, the offering of special
prayers and sacrifices. The ceremonial purification of the
site, or of the building if it had been used for profane
purposes, was accomplished by aspersions with sea water mixed
with turmeric or red earth.
[Page 15] When one considers the tenacious hold which all rites and ceremonies growing out of what we are accustomed to call superstitions had on the mind of the primitive Hawaiian, it puzzles one to account for the entire dropping out from modern memory of the prayers which were recited during the erection of a hall for the shelter of an institution so festive and so popular as the hula, while the prayers and gloomy ritual of the temple service have survived. The explanation may be found, perhaps, in the fact that the priests of the temple held position by the sovereign’s appointment; they formed a hierarchy by themselves, whereas the position of the kumu-hula, who was also a priest, was open to anyone who fitted himself for it by training and study and by passing successfully the ai-lolo[2] ordeal. After that he had the right to approach the altar of the hula god with the prescribed offerings and to present the prayers and petitions of the company to Laka or Kapo.
[Footnote 2: *Ai-lolo*. See pp. 32, 34, 36.]
In pleasing contrast to the worship of the *heiau*, the
service of the hula was not marred by the presence of
groaning victims and bloody sacrifices. Instead we find the
offerings to have been mostly rustic tokens, things entirely
consistent with light-heartedness, joy, and ecstasy of
devotion, as if to celebrate the fact that heaven had come
down to earth and Pan, with all the nymphs, was dancing.
During the time the halau was building the tabus and rules
that regulated conduct were enforced with the utmost
strictness. The members of the company were required to
maintain the greatest propriety of demeanor, to suppress all
rudeness of speech and manner, to abstain from all carnal
indulgence, to deny themselves specified articles of food,
and above all to avoid contact with a corpse. If anyone, even
by accident, suffered such defilement, before being received
again into fellowship or permitted to enter the halau and
take part in the exercises he must have ceremonial cleansing
(*huikala*). The *kumu* offered up prayers, sprinkled the
offender with salt water and turmeric, commanded him to bathe
in the ocean, and he was clean. If the breach of discipline
was gross and willful, an act of outrageous violence or the
neglect of tabu, the offender could be restored only after
penitence and confession.
THE KUAHU
In every halau stood the *kuahu*, or altar, as the visible
temporary abode of the deity, whose presence was at once the
inspiration of the performance and the luck-bringer of the
enterprise—a rustic frame embowered in greenery. The
gathering of the green leaves and other sweet finery of
[Page 16] nature for its construction and decoration was a matter of so great importance that it could not be intrusted to any chance assemblage of wild youth who might see fit to take the work in hand. There were formalities that must be observed, songs to be chanted, prayers to be recited. It was necessary to bear in mind that when one deflowered the woods of their fronds of íe-íe and fern or tore the trailing lengths of maile—albeit in honor of Laka herself—the body of the goddess was being despoiled, and the despoiling must be done with all tactful grace and etiquette.
It must not be gathered from this that the occasion was made
solemn and oppressive with weight of ceremony, as when a
temple was erected or as when a tabu chief walked abroad, and
all men lay with their mouths in the dust. On the contrary,
it was a time of joy and decorous exultation, a time when in
prayer-songs and ascriptions of praise the poet ransacked all
nature for figures and allusions to be used in caressing the
deity.
The following adulatory prayer (*kánaenáe*) in adoration of
Laka was recited while gathering the woodland decorations for
the altar. It is worthy of preservation for its intrinsic
beauty, for the spirit of trustfulness it breathes. We remark
the petitions it utters for the growth of tree and shrub, as
if Laka had been the alma mater under whose influence all
nature budded and rejoiced.
It would seem as if the physical ecstasy of the dance and the
sensuous joy of all nature’s finery had breathed their spirit
into the aspiration and that the beauty of leaf and flower,
all of them familiar forms of the god’s
metamorphosis—accessible to their touch and for the
regalement of their senses—had brought such nearness and
dearness, of affection between goddess and worshiper that all
fear was removed.
*He kánaenáe no Laka*
A ke kua-hiwi, i ke kua-lono,
Ku ana o Laka i ka mauna;
Noho ana o Laka i ke po’o o ka ohu.
O Laka kumu hula,
5 Nana i a’e ka wao-kele,[3]
Kahi, kahi i moli’a i ka pua’a,
I ke po’o pua’a,
He pua’a hiwa na Kane.[4]
[Page 17] He kane na Laka, 10 Na ka wahine i oni a kelakela i ka lani: I kupu ke a’a i ke kumu, I lau a puka ka mu’o, Ka liko, ka ao i-luna. Kupu ka lala, hua ma ka Hikina; 15 Kupu ka laau ona a Maka-li’i,[5] O Maka-lei,[6] laau kaulana mai ka Po mai.[7] Mai ka Po mai ka oiaio— I ho-i’o i-luna, i o’o i-luna. He luna au e ki’i mai nei ia oe, e Laka, 20 E ho’i ke ko-kua[8] pa-ú; He la uniki[9] e no kaua; Ha-ike-ike[10] o ke Akua; Hoike ka mana o ka Wahine, O Laka, kaikuahine, 25 Wahine a Lono i ka ou-alii.[11] E Lono, e hu’[12] ia mai ka lani me ka honua. Nou okoa Kukulu o Kahiki.[13] Me ke ano-ai[14] i aloha, e! E ola, e!
[Footnote 3: *Wao-kele*. That portion of the mountain forest
where grew the monarch trees was called *wao-kele* or
*wao-maukele*.]
[Footnote 4: *Na Kane*. Why was the offering, the black roast
porkling, said to be for Kane, who was not a special patron,
*au-makúa*, of the hula? The only answer the author has been
able to obtain from any Hawaiian is that, though Kane was not
a god of the hula, he was a near relative. On reflection, the
author can see a propriety in devoting the reeking flesh of
the swine to god Kane, while to the sylvan deity, Lâkâ,
goddess of the peaceful hula, were devoted the rustic
offerings that were the embodiment of her charms. Her image,
or token—an uncarved block of wood—was set up in a
prominent part of the *kuahu*, and at the close of a
performance the wreaths that had been worn by the actors were
draped about the image. Thus viewed, there is a delicate
propriety and significance in such disposal of the pig.]
[Footnote 5: *Maka-li’i* (Small eyes). The Pleiades; also the
period of six months, including the rainy season, that began
some time in October or November and was reckoned from the
date when the Pleiades appeared in the East at sunset.
*Maka-li’i* was also the name of a month, by some reckoned as
the first month of the year.]
[Footnote 6: *Maka-léi*. The name of a famous mythological
tree which had the power of attracting fish. It did not
poison, but only bewitched or fascinated them. There were two
trees bearing this name, one a male, the other a female,
which both grew at a place in Hilo called Pali-uli. One of
these, the female, was, according to tradition, carried from
its root home to the fish ponds in Kailua, Oahu, for the
purpose of attracting fish to the neighboring waters. The
enterprise was eminently successful.]
[Footnote 7: *Po*. Literally night; the period in cosmogony
when darkness and chaos reigned, before the affairs on earth
had become settled under the rule of the gods. Here the word
is used to indicate a period of remote mythologic antiquity.
The use of the word *Po* in the following verse reminds one
of the French adage, “La nuit porte conseil.”]
[Footnote 8: *Kokúa*. Another form for *kakúa*, to gird on
the *pa-ú*. (See *Pa-ú* song, pp. 51–53.)]
[Footnote 9: *Uníki*. A word not given in the dictionary. The
debut of an actor at the hula, after passing the *ai-lolo*
test and graduating from the school of the halau, a critical
event.]
[Footnote 10: *Ha-íke-íke*. Equivalent to *ho-íke-íke*, an
exhibition, to exhibit.]
[Footnote 11: *Ou-alii*. The Hawaiians seem to have lost the
meaning of this word. The author has been at some pains to
work it out somewhat conjecturally.]
[Footnote 12: *E Lono, e hu’ ia, mai, etc*. The unelided form
of the word *hu’* would be *hui*. The final *i* is dropped
before the similar vowel of *ia*.]
[Footnote 13: *Kukúlu o Kahíki*. The pillars of Kahiki. The
ancient Hawaiians supposed the starry heavens to be a solid
dome supported by a wall or vertical
construction—*kukulu*—set up along the horizon. That
termed *Kukulu o Kahiki*. Our geographical name Tahiti is of
course from Kahiki, though it does not apply to the same
region. After the close of what has been termed “the period
of intercourse,” which, came probably during the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries, and during which the ancient Hawaiians
voyaged to and fro between Hawaii and the lands of the South,
geographical ideas became hazy and the term *Kahiki* came to
be applied to any foreign country.]
[Footnote 14: *Áno-ái*. An old form of salutation, answering
in general to the more modern word aloha, much used at the
present time. *Ano-ai* seems to have had a shade of meaning
more nearly answering to our word “welcome.” This is the
first instance the author has met with of its use in poetry.]
[Page 18] [Translation.]
*A Prayer of Adulation to Laka*
In the forests, on the ridges
Of the mountains stands Laka;
Dwelling in the source of the mists.
Laka, mistress of the hula,
5 Has climbed the wooded haunts of the gods,
Altars hallowed by the sacrificial swine,
The head of the boar, the black boar of Kane.
A partner he with Laka;
Woman, she by strife gained rank in heaven.
10 That the root may grow from the stem,
That the young shoot may put forth and leaf,
Pushing up the fresh enfolded bud,
The scion-thrust bud and fruit toward the East,
Like the tree that bewitches the winter fish,
15 Maka-lei, tree famed from the age of night.
Truth is the counsel of night—
May it fruit and ripen above.
A messenger I bring you, O Laka,
To the girding of paû.
20 An opening festa this for thee and me;
To show the might of the god,
The power of the goddess,
Of Laka, the sister,
To Lono a wife in the heavenly courts.
25 O Lono, join heaven and earth!
Thine alone are the pillars of Kahiki.
Warm greeting, beloved one,
We hail thee!
The cult of god Lono was milder, more humane, than that of
Kane and the other major gods. No human sacrifices were
offered on his altars.—The statement in verse 26 accords
with the general belief of the Hawaiians that Lono dwelt in
foreign parts, *Kukulu o Kahiki*, and that he would some time
come to them from across the waters. When Captain Cook
arrived in his ships, the Hawaiians worshiped him as the god
Lono.
The following song-prayer also is one that was used at the
gathering of the greenery in the mountains and during the
building of the altar in the halau. When recited in the halau
all the pupils took part, and the chorus was a response in
which the whole assembly in the halau were expected to join:
*Pule Kuahu no Laka*
Haki pu o ka nahelehele,
Haki hana maile o ka wao,
[Page 19] Hooulu[15] lei ou, o Laka, e! O Hiiaka[16] ke kaula nana e hooulu na ma’i, 5 A aeae a ulu[17] a noho i kou kuahu, Eia ka pule la, he pule ola, He noi ola nou, e-e!
*Chorus:*
E ola ia makou, aohe hala!
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer to Laka*
This spoil and rape of the wildwood,
This plucking of wilderness maile—
Collect of garlands, Laka, for you.
Hiiaka, the prophet, heals our diseases.
5 Enter, possess, inspire your altar;
Heed our prayer, ’tis for life;
Our petition to you is for life.
*Chorus:*
Give us life, save from transgression!
[Footnote 15: *Hoo-ulu*. This word has a considerable range of
meaning, well illustrated in this mele. In its simplest form,
*ulu*, it means to grow, to become strong. Joined with the
causative *hoo*, as here, it takes on the spiritual meaning
of causing to prosper, of inspiring. The word “collect,” used
in the translation, has been chosen to express the double
sense of gathering the garlands and of devoting them to the
goddess as a religious offering. In the fourth verse this
word, *hooulu*, is used in the sense of to heal. Compare note
*c*.]
[Footnote 16: *Hiiaka*. The youngest sister of Pele, often
spoken of as *Hiiaka-i-ka-poli-o-Pele*,
Hiiaka-of-the-bosom-of-Pele. Why she should be spoken of as
capable of healing diseases is not at all clear.]
[Footnote 17: *Ulu*. Here we have the word *ulu* in its
simple, uncombined form, meaning to enter into and inspire.]
The wildwoods of Hawaii furnished in great abundance and
variety small poles for the framework of the kuahu, the
altar, the holy place of the halau, and sweet-scented leaves
and flowers suitable for its decoration. A spirit of fitness,
however, limited choice among these to certain species that
were deemed acceptable to the goddess because they were
reckoned as among her favorite forms of metamorphosis. To go
outside this ordained and traditional range would have been
an offense, a sacrilege. This critical spirit would have
looked with the greatest disfavor on the practice that in
modern times has crept in, of bedecking the dancers with
garlands of roses, pinks, jessamine, and other nonindigenous
flowers, as being utterly repugnant to the traditional spirit
of the hula.
Among decorations approved and most highly esteemed stood
pre-eminent the fragrant maile (pl. IV) and the star-like
fronds and ruddy drupe of the *íe-íe* (pl. II) and its
kindred, the *hála-pépe* (pl. III); the scarlet pompons of
the *lehúa* (pl. XIII) and *ohi’a*, with the fruit of the
latter (the mountain-apple); many varieties of fern,
including that splendid parasite, the “bird’s nest fern”
[Page 20] (ekáha), hailed by the Hawaiians as Mawi’s paddle; to which must be added the commoner leaves and lemon-colored flowers of the native hibiscus, the hau, the breadfruit, the native banana and the dracæna (ti), plate V; and lastly, richest of all, in the color that became Hawaii’s favorite, the royal yellow ilíma (pl. VI), a flower familiar to the eyes of the tourist to Honolulu.
While deft hands are building and weaving the light framework
of the kuahu, binding its parts with strong vines and
decorating it with nature’s sumptuous embroidery, the *kumu*,
or teacher, under the inspiration of the deity, for whose
residence he has prepared himself by long vigil and fasting
with fleshly abstinence, having spent the previous night
alone in the halau, is chanting or cantillating his adulatory
prayers, *kanaenae*—songs of praise they seem to be—to the
glorification of the gods and goddesses who are invited to
bless the occasion with their presence and inspiration, but
especially of that one, Laka, whose bodily presence is
symbolized by a rude block of wood arrayed in yellow tapa
that is set up on the altar itself. Thus does the kumu sing:
*Pule Kuahu*
Ei’ au e Laka mai uka,
E Laka mai kai;
O hooulu
O ka ilio[18] nana e hae,
5 O ka maile hihi i ka wao,
O ka lau-ki[19] lei o ke akua,
O na ku’i hauoli
O Ha’i-ka-manawa.[20]
O Laka oe,
10 O ke akua i ke kuahu nei, la;
E ho’i, ho’i mai a noho i kou kuahu!
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer* (to Laka)
Here am I, oh Laka from the mountains,
Oh Laka from the shore;
Protect us
Against the dog that barks;
[Page 21] 5 Reside in the wild-twining maile And the goddess-enwreathing ti. All, the joyful pulses. Of the woman Ha’i-ka-manawa! Thou art Laka, 10 The god of this altar; Return, return, abide in thy shrine!
[Footnote 18: *Ilio nana e hae*. The barking of a dog, the
crowing of a cock, the grunting of a pig, the hooting of an
owl, or any such sound occurring at the time of a religious
solemnity, *aha*, broke the spell of the incantation and
vitiated the ceremony. Such an untimely accident was as much
deprecated as were the Turk, the Comet, and the Devil by
pious Christian souls during the Middle Ages.]
[Footnote 19: *Lau-ki*. The leaf of the *ti* plant—the
same as the *ki*—(Dracæna terminalis), much used as an emblem
of divine power, a charm or defense against malign spiritual
influences. The kahuna often wore about his neck a fillet of
this leaf. The *ti* leaf was a special emblem of Ha’i-wahine,
or of Li’a-wahine. It was much used as a decoration about the
halau.]
[Footnote 20: *Ha’i-ka-manawa*. It is conjectured that this is
the same as Ha’i-wahine. She was a mythological character,
about whom there is a long and tragic story.]
The prayers which the hula folk of old times chanted while
gathering the material in the woods or while weaving it into
shape in the halau for the construction of a shrine did not
form a rigid liturgy; they formed rather a repertory as
elastic as the sighing of the breeze, or the songs of the
birds whose notes embroidered the pure mountain air. There
were many altar-prayers, so that if a prayer came to an end
before the work was done the priest had but to begin the
recitation of another prayer, or, if the spirit of the
occasion so moved him, he would take up again a prayer
already repeated, for until the work was entirely
accomplished the voice of prayer must continue to be heard.
The *pule* now to be given seems to be specially suited to
that portion of the service which took place in the woods at
the gathering of the poles and greenery. It was designed
specially for the placating of the little god-folk who from
their number were addressed as *Kini o ke Akua*, the
multitude of the little gods, and who were the counterparts
in old Hawaii of our brownies, elfins, sprites, kobolds,
gnomes, and other woodland imps. These creatures, though
dwarfish and insignificant in person, were in such
numbers—four thousand, forty thousand, four hundred
thousand—and were so impatient of any invasion of their
territory, so jealous of their prerogatives, so spiteful and
revengeful when injured, that it was policy always to keep on
the right side of them.
*Pule Kuahu*
E hooulu ana I Kini[21] o ke Akua,
Ka lehu o ke Akua,
Ka mano o ke Akua,
I ka pu-ku’i o ke Akua,
5 I ka lalani Akua,
Ia ulu mai o Kane,
Ulu o Kanaloa;
Ulu ka ohia, lau ka ie-ie;
Ulu ke Akua, noho i ke kahua,
10 A a’ea’e, a ulu, a noho kou kuahu.
Eia ka pule la, he pule ola.
*Chorus:*
E ola ana oe!
[Footnote 21: *Kini o ke Akua.* See note *d*, p. 24.]
[Page 22]
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer*
Invoke we now the four thousand,
The myriads four of the nimble,
The four hundred thousand elves,
The countless host of sprites,
5 Rank upon rank of woodland gods.
Pray, Kane, also inspire us;
Kanaloa, too, join the assembly.
Now grows the *ohi’a*, now leafs *ie-ie*;
God enters, resides in the place;
10 He mounts, inspires, abides in the shrine.
This is our prayer, our plea this for life!
*Chorus:*
Life shall be thine!
From one point of view these *pule* are not to be regarded as
prayers in the ordinary sense of the word, but rather as
song-offerings, verbal bouquets, affectionate sacrifices to
the gods.
[Page 23]
III.—THE GODS OF THE HULA.
Of what nature were the gods of the old times, and how did
the ancient Hawaiians conceive of them? As of beings having
the form, the powers, and the passions of humanity, yet
standing above and somewhat apart from men. One sees, as
through a mist, darkly, a figure, standing, moving; in shape
a plant, a tree or vine-clad stump, a bird, a taloned
monster, a rock carved by the fire-queen, a human form, a
puff of vapor—and now it has given place to vacancy. It was
a goddess, perhaps of the hula. In the solitude of the
wilderness one meets a youthful being of pleasing address, of
godlike wit, of elusive beauty; the charm of her countenance
unspoken authority, her gesture command. She seems one with
nature, yet commanding it. Food placed before her remains
untasted; the oven, *imu*,[22] in which the fascinated host
has heaped his abundance, preparing for a feast, when opened
is found empty; the guest of an hour has disappeared. Again
it was a goddess, perhaps of the hula. Or, again, a traveler
meets a creature of divine beauty, all smiles and loveliness.
The infatuated mortal, smitten with hopeless passion, offers
blandishments; he finds himself by the roadside embracing a
rock. It was a goddess of the hula.
The gods, great and small, superior and inferior, whom the
devotees and practitioners of the hula worshiped and sought
to placate were many; but the goddess Laka was the one to
whom they offered special prayers and sacrifices and to whom
they looked as the patron, the *au-makua*,[23] of that
institution. It was for her benefit and in her honor that the
kuahu was set up, and the wealth of flower and leaf used in
its decoration was emblematic of her beauty and glory, a
pledge of her bodily presence, the very forms that she, a
sylvan deity, was wont to assume when she pleased to manifest
herself.
As an additional crutch to the imagination and to emphasize
the fact of her real presence on the altar which she had been
invoked to occupy as her abode, she was symbolized by an
uncarved block of wood from the sacred *lama*[24] tree. This
was wrapped in a robe of choice yellow tapa, scented with
turmeric, and set conspicuously upon the altar.
[Footnote 22: *Imu*. The Hawaiian oven, which was a hole in
the ground lined and arched over with stones.]
[Footnote 23: *Au-makua*. An ancestral god.]
[Footnote 24: *Lama*. A beautiful tree having firm,
fine-grained, white wood; used in making sacred inclosures
and for other tabu purposes.]
[Page 24] Laka was invoked as the god of the maile, the ie-ie, and other wildwood growths before mentioned (pl. II). She was hailed as the “sister, wife, of god Lono,” as “the one who by striving attained favor with the gods of the upper ether;” as “the kumu[25] hula”—head teacher of the Terpsichorean art; “the fount of joy;” “the prophet who brings health to the sick;” “the one whose presence gives life.” In one of the prayers to Laka she is besought to come and take possession of the worshiper, to dwell in him as in a temple, to inspire him in all his parts and faculties—voice, hands, feet, the whole body.
Laka seems to have been a friend, but not a relative, of the
numerous Pele family. So far as the author has observed, the
fiery goddess is never invited to grace the altar with her
presence, nor is her name so much as mentioned in any prayer
met with.
To compare the gods of the Hawaiian pantheon with those of
classic Greece, the sphere occupied by Laka corresponds most
nearly to that filled by Terpsichore and Euterpe, the muses,
respectively, of dance and of song. Lono, in one song spoken
of as the husband of Laka, had features in common with
Apollo.
That other gods, Kane, Ku, Kanaloa,[26] with Lono,
Ku-pulupulu,[27] and the whole swarm of godlings that peopled
the wildwood, were also invited to favor the performances
with their presence can be satisfactorily explained on the
ground, first, that all the gods were in a sense members of
one family, related to each other by intermarriage, if not by
the ties of kinship; and, second, by the patent fact of that
great underlying cause of bitterness and strife among
immortals as well as mortals, jealousy. It would have been an
eruptive occasion of heart-burning and scandal if by any
mischance a privileged one should have had occasion to feel
slighted; and to have failed in courtesy to that countless
host of wilderness imps and godlings, the *Kini Akua*,[28]
mischievous and irreverent as the monkeys of India, would
indeed have been to tempt a disaster.
While it is true that the testimony of the various
*kumu-hula*, teachers of the hula, and devotees of the art of
the hula, so far as the author has talked with them, has been
overwhelmingly to the effect that Laka was the one and only
divine patron of the art known to them, there has been a
small number equally ready to assert that there were those
who observed the cult of the goddess Kapo and worshiped her
[Page 25] as the patron of the hula. The positive testimony of these witnesses must be reckoned as of more weight than the negative testimony of a much larger number, who either have not seen or will not look at the other side of the shield. At any rate, among the prayers before the kuahu, of which there are others yet to be presented, will be found several addressed to Kapo as the divine patron of the hula.
[Footnote 25: The teacher, a leader and priest of the hula.
The modern school-master is called *kumu-kula*.]
[Footnote 26: *Kanaloa*. Kane, Ku, Kanaloa, and Lono were the
major gods of the Hawaiian pantheon.]
[Footnote 27: *Ku-pulupulu*. A god of the canoe-makers.]
[Footnote 28: *Kini Akua*. A general expression—often used
together with the ones that follow—meaning the countless
swarms of brownies, elfs, kobolds, sprites, and other
godlings (mischievous imps) that peopled the wilderness.
*Kini* means literally 40,000, *lehu* 400,000, and *mano*
4,000. See the *Pule Kuahu*—altar-prayer—on page 21. The
Hawaiians, curiously enough, did not put the words *mano*,
*kini*, and *lehu* in the order of their numerical value.]
Kapo was sister of Pele and the daughter of Haumea.[29] Among
other roles played by her, like Laka she was at times a
sylvan deity, and it was in the garb of woodland
representations that she was worshiped by hula folk. Her
forms of activity, corresponding to her different
metamorphoses, were numerous, in one of which she was at
times “employed by the *kahuna*[30] as a messenger in their
black arts, and she is claimed by many as an *aumakua*,” [31]
said to be the sister of Kalai-pahoa, the poison god.
[Footnote 29: *Haumea*. The ancient goddess, or ancestor, the
sixth in line of descent from Wakea.]
[Footnote 30: *Kahuna.* A sorcerer; with a qualifying
adjective it meant a skilled craftsman; *Kahuna-kalai-wa’a*
was a canoe-builder; *kahuna lapaau* was a medicine-man, a
doctor, etc.]
[Footnote 31: The Lesser Gods of Hawaii, a paper by Joseph S.
Emerson, read before the Hawaiian Historical Society, April
7, 1892.]
Unfortunately Kapo had an evil name on account of a
propensity which led her at times to commit actions that seem
worthy only of a demon of lewdness. This was, however, only
the hysteria of a moment, not the settled habit of her life.
On one notable occasion, by diverting the attention of the
bestial pig-god Kama-pua’a, and by vividly presenting to him
a temptation well adapted to his gross nature, she succeeded
in enticing him away at a critical moment, and thus rescued
her sister Pele at a time when the latter’s life was
imperiled by an unclean and violent assault from the
swine-god.
Like Catherine of Russia, who in one mood was the patron of
literature and of the arts and sciences and in another mood a
very satyr, so the Hawaiian goddess Kapo seems to have lived
a double life whose aims were at cross purposes with one
another—now an angel of grace and beauty, now a demon of
darkness and lust.
Do we not find in this the counterpart of nature’s twofold
aspect, who presents herself to dependent humanity at one
time as an alma mater, the food-giver, a divinity of joy and
comfort, at another time as the demon of the storm and
earthquake, a plowshare of fiery destruction?
The name of Hiiaka, the sister of Pele, is one often
mentioned in the prayers of the hula.
[Page 26]
IV.—SUPPORT AND ORGANIZATION OF THE HULA
In ancient times the hula to a large extent was a creature of
royal support, and for good reason. The actors in this
institution were not producers of life’s necessaries. To the
*alii* belonged the land and the sea and all the useful
products thereof. Even the jetsam whale-tooth and wreckage
scraps of iron that ocean cast up on the shore were claimed
by the lord of the land. Everything was the king’s. Thus it
followed of necessity that the support of the hula must in
the end rest upon the alii. As in ancient Rome it was a
senator or general, enriched by the spoil of a province, who
promoted the sports of the arena, so in ancient Hawaii it was
the chief or headman of the district who took the initiative
in the promotion of the people’s communistic sports and of
the hula.
We must not imagine that the hula was a thing only of kings’
courts and chiefish residences. It had another and democratic
side. The passion for the hula was broadspread. If other
agencies failed to meet the demand, there was nothing to
prevent a company of enthusiasts from joining themselves
together in the pleasures and, it might be, the profits of
the hula. Their spokesman—designated as the *po’o-puaa*,
from the fact that a pig, or a boar’s head, was required of
him as an offering at the kuahu—was authorized to secure the
services of some expert to be their kumu. But with the hula
all roads lead to the king’s court.
Let us imagine a scene at the king’s residence. The alii,
rousing from his sloth and rubbing his eyes, rheumy with
debauch and *awa*, overhears remark on the doings of a new
company of hula dancers who have come into the neighborhood.
He summons his chief steward.
“What is this new thing of which they babble?” he demands.
“It is nothing, son of heaven,” answers the kneeling steward.
“They spoke of a hula. Tell me, what is it?”
“Ah, thou heaven-born (*lani*), it was but a trifle—a new
company, young graduates of the halau, have set themselves up
as great ones; mere rustics; they have no proper acquaintance
with the traditions of the art as taught by the bards of...
your majesty’s father. They mouth and twist the old songs
all awry, thou son of heaven.”
“Enough. I will hear them to-morrow. Send a messenger for
this new kumu. Fill again my bowl with awa.”
[Page 27] Thus it comes about that the new hula company gains audience at court and walks the road that, perchance, leads to fortune. Success to the men and women of the hula means not merely applause, in return for the incense of flattery; it means also a shower of substantial favors—food, garments, the smile of royalty, perhaps land—things that make life a festival. If welcome grows cold and it becomes evident that the harvest has been reaped, they move on to fresh woods and pastures new.
To return from this apparent digression, it was at the king’s
court—if we may extend the courtesy of this phrase to a
group of thatched houses—that were gathered the bards and
those skilled in song, those in whose memories were stored
the mythologies, traditions, genealogies, proverbial wisdom,
and poetry that, warmed by emotion, was the stuff from which
was spun the songs of the hula. As fire is produced by
friction, so it was often by the congress of wits rather than
by the flashing of genius that the songs of the hula were
evolved.
The composition and criticism of a poetical passage were a
matter of high importance, often requiring many suggestions
and much consultation. If the poem was to be a *mele-inoa*, a
name-song to eulogize some royal or princely scion, it must
contain no word of ill-omen. The fate-compelling power of
such a word, once shot from the mouth, was beyond recall.
Like the incantation of the sorcerer, the *kahuna ánaaná*, it
meant death to the eulogized one. If not, it recoiled on the
life of the singer.
The verbal form once settled, it remained only to stereotype
it on the memories of the men and women who constituted the
literary court or conclave. Think not that only thus were
poems produced in ancient Hawaii. The great majority of songs
were probably the fruit of solitary inspiration, in which the
bard poured out his heart like a song-bird, or uttered his
lone vision as a seer. The method of poem production in
conclave may be termed the official method. It was often done
at the command of an alii. So much for the fabrication, the
weaving, of a song.
If the composition was intended as a eulogy, it was
cantillated ceremoniously before the one it honored; if in
anticipation of a prince yet unborn, it was daily recited
before the mother until the hour of her delivery; and this
cantillation published it abroad. If the song was for
production in the hula, it lay warm in the mind of the kumu,
the master and teacher of the hula, until such time as he had
organized his company.
The court of the alii was a vortex that drew in not only the
bards and men of lore, but the gay and fashionable rout of
pleasure-seekers, the young men and women of shapely form and
gracious presence, the sons and daughters of the king’s
[Page 28] henchmen and favorites; among them, perhaps, the offspring of the king’s morganatic alliances and amours—the flower and pick of Hawaii’s youth. From these the kumu selected those most fitted by beauty and grace of form, as well as quickness of wit and liveliness of imagination, to take part in the hula.
The performers in the hula were divided into two classes, the
*olapa*—agile ones—and the *ho’o-paa*—steadfast ones. The
rôle of olapa, as was fitting, was assigned to the young men
and young women who could best illustrate in their persons
the grace and beauty of the human form. It was theirs,
sometimes while singing, to move and pose and gesture in the
dance; sometimes also to punctuate their song and action with
the lighter instruments of music. The rôle of ho’o-paa, on
the other hand, was given to men and women of greater
experience and of more maturity. They handled the heavier
instruments and played their parts mostly while sitting or
kneeling, marking the time with their instrumentation. They
also lent their voices to swell the chorus or utter the
refrain of certain songs, sometimes taking the lead in the
song or bearing its whole burden, while the light-footed
olapa gave themselves entirely to the dance. The part of the
ho’o-paa was indeed the heavier, the more exacting duty.
Such was the personnel of a hula troupe when first gathered
by the hula-master for training and drill in the halau, now
become a school for the hula. Among the pupils the kumu was
sure to find some old hands at the business, whose presence,
like that of veterans in a squad of recruits, was a leaven to
inspire the whole company with due respect for the spirit and
traditions of the historic institution and to breed in the
members the patience necessary to bring them to the highest
proficiency.
The instruction of the kumu, as we are informed, took a wide
range. It dealt in elaborate detail on such matters as
accent, inflection, and all that concerns utterance and
vocalization. It naturally paid great attention to gesture
and pose, attitude and bodily action. That it included
comment on the meaning that lay back of the words may be
gravely doubted. The average hula dancer of modern times
shows great ignorance of the mele he recites, and this is
true even of the kumu-hula. His work too often is largely
perfunctory, a matter of sound and form, without appeal to
the intellect.
It would not be legitimate, however, to conclude from this
that ignorance of the meaning was the rule in old times;
those were the days when the nation’s traditional songs,
myths, and lore formed the equipment of every alert and
receptive mind, chief or commoner. There was no printed page
to while away the hours of idleness. The library was stored
in one’s memory. The language of the mele, which now has
[Page 29] become antiquated, then was familiar speech. For a kumu-hula to have given instruction in the meaning of a song would have been a superfluity, as if one at the present day were to inform a group of well-educated actors and actresses who was Pompey or Julius Cæsar.
“Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you,
trippingly on the tongue.” Hamlet’s words to the players
were, it may be supposed, the substance of the kumu’s
instructions to the pupils in his halau.
The organization of a hula company was largely democratic.
The kumu—in modern sense, the teacher—was the leader and
conductor, responsible for the training and discipline of the
company. He was the business manager of the enterprise; the
priest, *kahuna*, the leader in the religious exercises, the
one who interpreted the will of heaven, especially of the
gods whose favor determined success. He might be called to
his position by the choice of the company, appointed by the
command of the alii who promoted the enterprise, or
self-elected in case the enterprise was his own. He had under
him a *kokua kumu*, a deputy, who took charge during his
absence.
The *po’o-puaa* was an officer chosen by the pupils to be
their special agent and mouthpiece. He saw to the execution
of the kumu’s judgments and commands, collected the fines,
and exacted the penalties imposed by the kumu. It fell to him
to convey to the altar the presents of garlands, awa, and the
like that were contributed to the halau.
The *paepae*, also chosen by the pupils, subject to
confirmation by the kumu, acted as an assistant of the
po’o-puaa. During the construction of the kuahu the po’o-puaa
stood to the right, the paepae at his left. They were in a
general sense guardians of the kuahu.
The *ho’o-ulu* was the guard stationed at the door. He
sprinkled with sea-water mixed with turmeric everyone who
entered the halau. He also acted as sergeant-at-arms to keep
order and remove anyone who made a disturbance. It was his
duty each day to place a fresh bowl of awa on the altar of
the goddess (*hanai kuahu*), literally to feed the altar.
In addition to these officials, a hula company naturally
required the services of a miscellaneous retinue of stewards,
cooks, fishermen, hewers of wood, and drawers of water.
RULES OF CONDUCT AND TABUS
Without a body of rules, a strict penal code, and a firm hand
to hold in check the hot bloods of both sexes, it would have
been impossible to keep order and to accomplish the business
purpose of the organization. The explosive force of passion
would have made the gathering a signal for the breaking loose
of pandemonium. That it did not always so result is a
[Page 30] compliment alike to the self-restraint of the people and to the sway that artistic ideals held over their minds, but, above all, to a peculiar system of discipline wisely adapted to the necessities of human nature. It does not seem likely that a Thespian band of our own race would have held their passions under equal check if surrounded by the same temptations and given the same opportunities as these Polynesians. It may well be doubted if the bare authority of the kumu would have sufficed to maintain discipline and to keep order, had it not been reenforced by the dread powers of the spirit world in the shape of the tabu.
The awful grasp of this law; this repressive force, the tabu,
held fast the student from the moment of his entrance into
the halau. It denied this pleasure, shut off that innocent
indulgence, curtailed liberty in this direction and in that.
The tabu waved before his imagination like a flaming sword,
barring approach to the Eden of his strongest propensity.
The rules and discipline of the halau, the school for the
hula, from our point of view, were a mixture of shrewd common
sense and whimsical superstition. Under the head of tabus
certain articles of food were denied; for instance, the
sugar-cane—*ko*—was forbidden. The reason assigned was that
if one indulged in it his work as a practitioner would amount
to nothing; in the language of the kumu, _aohe e leo ana kana
mau hana_, his work will be a failure. The argument turned on
the double meaning of the word *ko*, the first meaning being
sugar cane, the second, accomplishment. The Hawaiians were
much impressed by such whimsical nominalisms. Yet there is a
backing of good sense to the rule. Anyone who has chewed the
sweet stalk can testify that for some time thereafter his
voice is rough, ill-fitted for singing or elocution.
The strictest propriety and decorum were exacted of the
pupils; there must be no license whatever. Even married
people during the weeks preceding graduation must observe
abstinence toward their partners. The whole power of one’s
being must be devoted to the pursuit of art.
The rules demanded also the most punctilious personal
cleanliness. Above all things, one must avoid contact with a
corpse. Such defilement barred one from entrance to the halau
until ceremonial cleansing had been performed. The offender
must bathe in the ocean; the kumu then aspersed him with holy
water, uttered a prayer, ordered a penalty, an offering to
the kuahu, and declared the offender clean. This done, he
was again received into fellowship at the halau.
The ordinary penalty for a breach of ceremony or an offense
against sexual morality was the offering of a baked porkling
with awa. Since the introduction of money the penalty has
generally been reckoned on a commercial basis; a money fine
is imposed. The offering of pork and awa is retained as a
concession to tradition.
[Page 31]
V—CEREMONIES OF GRADUATION; DÉBUT OF A HULA DANCER
CEREMONIES OF GRADUATION
The *ai-lolo* rite and ceremony marked the consummation of a
pupil’s readiness for graduation from the school of the halau
and his formal entrance into the guild of hula dancers. As
the time drew near, the kumu tightened the reins of
discipline, and for a few days before that event no pupil
might leave the halau save for the most stringent necessity,
and then only with the head muffled (*pulo’u*) to avoid
recognition, and he might engage in no conversation whatever
outside the halau.
The night preceding the day of ai-lolo was devoted to special
services of dance and song. Some time after midnight the
whole company went forth to plunge into the ocean, thus to
purge themselves of any lurking ceremonial impurity. The
progress to the ocean and the return they made in complete
nudity. “Nakedness is the garb of the gods.” On their way to
and from the bath they must not look back, they must not turn
to the right hand or to the left.
The kumu, as the priest, remained at the halau, and as the
procession returned from the ocean he met it at the door and
sprinkled each one (*pikai*) with holy water. Then came
another period of dance and song; and then, having
cantillated a *pule hoonoa*, to lift the tabu, the kumu went
forth to his own ceremonial cleansing bath in the sea. During
his absence his deputy, the *kokua kumu*, took charge of the
halau. When the kumu reached the door on his return, he made
himself known by reciting a *mele wehe puka*, the
conventional password.
Still another exercise of song and dance, and the wearied
pupils are glad to seek repose. Some will not even remove the
short dancing skirts that are girded about them, so eager
are they to snatch an hour of rest; and some lie down with
bracelets and anklets yet unclasped.
At daybreak the kumu rouses the company with the tap of the
drum. After ablutions, before partaking of their simple
breakfast, the company stand before the altar and recite a
tabu-removing prayer, accompanying the cantillation with a
rhythmic tapping of feet and clapping of hands:
*Pule Hoonoa*
Pupu we’uwe’u e, Laka e!
O kona we’uwe’u ke ku nei.
[Page 32] Kaumaha a’e la ia Laka. O Laka ke akua pule ikaika. 5 Ua ku ka maile a Laka a imua; Ua lu ka hua[32] o ka maile. Noa, noa ia’u, ia Kahaula— Papalua noa. Noa, a ua noa. 10 Eli-eli kapu! eli-eli noa! Kapu oukou, ke akua! Noa makou, ke kanaka´.
[Translation.]
*Tabu-lifting Prayer*
Oh wildwood bouquet, oh Laka!
Hers are the growths that stand here.
Suppliants we to Laka.
The prayer to Laka has power;
5 The maile of Laka stands to the fore.
The maile vine casts now its seeds.
Freedom, there’s freedom to me, Kahaula—
A freedom twofold.
10 Freedom, aye freedom!
A tabu profound, a freedom complete.
Ye gods are still tabu;
We mortals are free.
[Footnote 32: *Lu ka hua*. Casts now its seeds. The maile vine
(pl. IV), one of the goddess’s emblems, casts its seeds,
meaning that the goddess gives the pupils skill and inspires
them.]
At the much-needed repast to which the company now sit down
there may be present a gathering of friends and relatives and
of hula experts, called *olóhe*. Soon the porkling chosen to
be the *ai-lólo* offering is brought in—a black suckling
without spot or blemish. The kumu holds it down while all the
pupils gather and lay their hands upon his hands; and he
expounds to them the significance of the ceremony. If they
consecrate themselves to the work in hand in sincerity and
with true hearts, memory will be strong and the training, the
knowledge, and the songs that have been intrusted to the
memory will stay. If they are heedless, regardless of their
vows, the songs they have learned will fly away.
The ceremony is long and impressive; many songs are used.
Sometimes, it was claimed, the prayers of the kumu at this
laying on of hands availed to cause the death of the little
animal. On the completion of the ceremony the offering is
taken out and made ready for the oven.
One of the first duties of the day is the dismantling of the
old kuahu, the shrine, and the construction of another from
new materials as a residence for the goddess. While night yet
shadows the earth the attendants and friends of the pupils
[Page 33] have gone up into the mountains to collect the material for the new shrine. The rustic artists, while engaged in this loving work of building and weaving the new kuahu, cheer and inspire one another with joyful songs vociferous with the praise of Laka. The halau also they decorate afresh, strewing the floor with clean rushes, until the whole place enthralls the senses like a bright and fragrant temple.
The kumu now grants special dispensation to the pupils to go
forth that they may make good the results of the neglect of
the person incident to long confinement in the halau. For
days, for weeks, perhaps for months, they have not had full
opportunity to trim hair, nails, or beard, to anoint and
groom themselves. They use this short absence from the hall
also to supply themselves with wreaths of fragrant maile,
crocus-yellow ilima, scarlet-flaming lehua, fern, and what
not.
At the appointed hour the pupils, wreathed and attired like
nymphs and dryads, assemble in the halau, sweet with woodsy
perfumes. At the door they receive aspersion with consecrated
water.
The ai-lolo offering, cooked to a turn—no part raw, no part
cracked or scorched—is brought in from the *imu*, its bearer
sprinkled by the guard at the entrance. The kumu, having
inspected the roast offering and having declared it
ceremonially perfect, gives the signal, and the company break
forth in songs of joy and of adulation to goddess Laka:
*Mele Kuau*
Noho ana Laka I ka ulu wehi-wehi,
Ku ana iluna i Mo’o-helaia,[33]
Ohia-Ku[34] ouna o Mauna-loa.[35]
Aloha mai Kaulana-ula[36] ia’u.
5 Eia ka ula la, he ula leo,[37]
He uku, he modai, he kanaenae,
He alana na’u ia oe.
E Laka e, e maliu mai;
E maliu mai oe, i pono au,
10 A pono au, a pono kaua.
[Footnote 33: *Mo’o-helaia*. A female deity, a *kupua*, who at
death became one of the divinities, *au-makua*, of the hula.
Her name was conferred on the place claimed as her residence,
on Mauna-loa, island of Molokai.]
[Footnote 34: *Ohia-Ku*. Full name *ohia-ku-makua*; a variety
of the ohìa, or lehua (pl. XIII), whose wood was used in
making temple gods. A rough stem of this tree stood on each
side near the *hala-pepe*. (See pl. III, also pp. 19–20.)]
[Footnote 35: *Mauna-loa*. Said to be the mountain of that
name on Molokai, not that on Hawaii.]
[Footnote 36: *Kaulana-ula*. Full form *Kaulana-a-ula*; the
name of a deity belonging to the order, *papa*, of the hula.
Its meaning is explained in the expression *ula leo*, in the
next line.]
[Footnote 37: *Ula leo*. A singing or trilling sound, a
*tinnitus aurium*, a sign that the deity Kaulanaula was
making some communication to the one who heard it.
“By the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes.”]
[Page 34]
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer*
Laka sits in her shady grove,
Stands on her terrace, at Mo’o-helaia;
Like the tree of God Ku on Mauna-loa.
Kaulana-ula trills in my ear;
5 A whispered suggestion to me,
Lo, an offering, a payment,
A eulogy give I to thee.
O Laka, incline to me!
Have compassion, let it be well—
10 Well with me, well with us both.
There is no stint of prayer-song. While the offering rests on
the kuahu, the joyful service continues:
*Mele Kuahu*
E Laka, e!
Pupu we’uwe’u e, Laka e!
E Laka i ka leo;
E laka i ka loaa;
5 E Laka i ka waiwai;
E Laka i na mea a pau!
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer*
O goddess Laka!
O wildwood bouquet, O Laka!
O Laka, queen of the voice!
O Laka, giver of gifts!
5 O Laka, giver of bounty!
O Laka, giver of all things!
At the conclusion of this loving service of worship and song
each member of the troupe removes from his head and neck the
wreaths that had bedecked him, and with them crowns the
image of the goddess until her altar is heaped with the
offerings.
Now comes the pith of the ceremony: the novitiates sit down
to the feast of ai-lolo, theirs the place of honor, at the
head of the table, next the kuahu. The *ho’o-pa’a*, acting
as carver, selects the typical parts—snout, ear-tips, tail,
feet, portions of the vital organs, especially the brain
(*lolo*). This last it is which gives name to the ceremony.
He sets an equal portion before each novitiate. Each one must
eat all that is set before him. It is a mystical rite, a
sacrament; as he eats he consciously partakes of the virtue
of the goddess that is transmitted to himself.
[Page 35] Meantime the olohe and friends of the novitiates, inspired with the proper enthusiasm, of the occasion, lift their voices in joyful cantillations in honor of the goddess, accompanied with the clapping of hands.
The ceremony now reaches a new stage. The kumu lifts the tabu
by uttering a prayer—always a song—and declares the place
and the feast free, and the whole assembly sit down to enjoy
the bounty that is spread up and down the halau. On this
occasion men and women may eat in common. The only articles
excluded from this feast are *luau*—a food much like
spinach, made by cooking the young and delicate taro
leaf—and the drupe of the *hala*, the pandanus (pl. xviii).
The company sit down to eat and to drink; presently they rise
to dance and sing. The kumu leads in a tabu-lifting,
freedom-giving song and the ceremony of ai-lolo is over. The
pupils have been graduated from the school of the halau; they
are now members of the great guild of hula dancers. The time
has come for them to make their bow to the waiting public
outside, to bid for the favor of the world. This is to be
their “little go;” they will spread their wings for a
greater flight on the morrow.
The kumu with his big drum, and the musicians, the ho’o-pa’a,
pass through the door and take their places outside in the
lanai, where sit the waiting multitude. At the tap of the
drum the group of waiting olapa plume themselves like fine
birds eager to show their feathers; and, as they pass out the
halau door and present themselves to the breathless audience,
into every pose and motion of their gliding, swaying figures
they pour a full tide of emotion in studied and unstudied
effort to captivate the public.
DÉBUT OF A HULA DANCER
The occasion is that of a lifetime; it is their *uniki*,
their debut. The song chosen must rise to the dignity of the
occasion. Let us listen to the song that enthralls the
audience seated in the rushstrown lanai, that we may judge of
its worthiness.
*He Mele-Inoa (no Naihe)*[38]
Ka nalu nui, a ku ka nalu mai Kona,
Ka malo a ka mahiehie,[39]
Ka onaulu-loa,[40] a lele ka’u malo.
[Page 36] O kakai[41] malo hoaka,[42] 5 O ka malo kai,[43] malo o ke alii E ku, e hume a paa i ka malo.
E ka’ika’i [44] ka la i ka papa o Halepó;[45]
A pae o Halepó i ka nalu.
Ho-e’e i ka nalu mai Kahiki;[46]
10 He nalu Wakea,[47] nalu ho’ohua.[48]
Haki opu’u [49] ka nalu, haki kua-pa.[50]
Ea mai ka makakai [51] he’e-nalu,
Kai he’e kakala [52] o ka moku,
Kai-ká o ka nalu nui,
15 Ka hu’a o ka nalu o Hiki-au.[53]
Kai he’e-nalu i ke awakea.
Ku ka puna, ke ko’a i-uka.
Ka makahá o ka nalu o Kuhihewa.[54]
Ua o ia,[55] nohá ka papa!
20 Noná Maui, nauweuwe,
Nauweuwe, nakelekele.
Nakele ka ili o ka i he’e-kai.
Lalilali ole ka ili o ke akamai;
Kahilihili ke kai a ka he’e-nalu.
25 Ike’a ka nalu nui o Puna, o Hilo.
[Footnote 38: Naihe. A man of strong character, but not a
high chief. He was horn in Kona and resided at Napoopoo. His
mother was Ululani, his father Keawe-a-heulu, who was a
celebrated general and strategist under Kamehameha I.]
[Footnote 39: Mahiehie. A term conferring dignity and
distinction.]
[Footnote 40: Onaulu-loa. A roller of great length and
endurance, one that reaches the shore, in contrast to a
*kakala*.]
[Footnote 41: *Kalai.* An archaic word meaning forty.]
[Footnote 42: *Hoaka.* A crescent; the name of the second day
of the month. The allusion is to the curve (downward) of a
large number (kakai) of malo when hung on a line, the usual
way of keeping such articles.]
[Footnote 43: *Malo kai.* The ocean is sometimes poetically
termed the *malo* or *pa-á* of the naked swimmer, or bather.
It covers his nakedness.]
[Footnote 44: *Ka’ika’i.* To lead or to carry; a tropical use
of the word. The sun is described as leading the board.]
[Footnote 45: *Hale-pó.* In the opinion of the author it is
the name of the board. A skilled Hawaiian says it is the name
given the surf of a place at Napoopoo, in Kona, Hawaii. The
action is not located there, but in Puna, it seems to the
author.]
[Footnote 46: *Kahiki.* Tahiti, or any foreign country; a term
of grandiloquence.]
[Footnote 47: *Wakea.* A mythical name, coming early in
Hawaiian genealogies; here used in exaggeration to show the
age of the roller.]
[Footnote 48: *Ho’ohua.* Applied to a roller, one that rolls
on and swells higher.]
[Footnote 49: *Opu’u.* Said of a roller that completes its run
to shore.]
[Footnote 50: *Kua-pá.* Said of a roller as above that dies
at the shore.]
[Footnote 51: *Maka-kai.* The springing-up of the surf after
an interval of quiet.]
[Footnote 52: *Kakála.* Rough, heaped up, one wave overriding
another, a chop sea.]
[Footnote 53: *Hiki-au.* Said to be the name of a temple.]
[Footnote 54: *Kuhihewa.* Full name *Ka-kuhi-hewa*, a
distinguished king of Oahu.]
[Footnote 55: *O iu.* Meaning that the board dug its nose
into the reef or sand.]
[Translation.]
*A Name-Song, a Eulogy* (for Naihe)
The huge roller, roller that surges from Kona,
Makes loin-cloth fit for a lord;
Far-reaching swell, my malo streams in the wind;
Shape the crescent malo to the loins—
5 The loin-cloth the sea, cloth for king’s girding.
Stand, gird fast the loin-cloth!
[Page 37] Let the sun guide the board Halepó, Till Halepó lifts on the swell. It mounts the swell that rolls from Kahiki, 10 From Wakea’s age enrolling. The roller plumes and ruffles its crest.
Here comes the champion surf-man,
While wave-ridden wave beats the island,
A fringe of mountain-high waves.
15 Spume lashes the Hiki-an altar—A
surf this to ride at noontide.
The coral, horned coral, it sweeps far ashore.
We gaze at the surf of Ka-kuhi-hewa.
The surf-board snags, is shivered;
20 Maui splits with a crash,
Trembles, dissolves into slime.
Glossy the skin of the surf-man;
Undrenched the skin of the expert;
25 Wave-feathers fan the wave-rider.
You’ve seen the grand surf of Puna, of Hilo.
This spirited song, while not a full description of a
surf-riding scene, gives a vivid picture of that noble sport.
The last nine verses have been omitted, as they add neither
to the action nor to the interest.
It seems surprising that the accident spoken of in line 19
should be mentioned; for it is in glaring opposition to the
canons that were usually observed in the composition of a
*mele-inoa.* In the construction of a eulogy the Hawaiians
were not only punctiliously careful to avoid mention of
anything susceptible of sinister interpretation, but they
were superstitiously sensitive to any such unintentional
happening. As already mentioned (p. 27), they believed that
the fate compelling power of a word of ill-omen was
inevitable. If it did not result in the death of the one
eulogized, retributive justice turned the evil influence back
on him who uttered it.
[Page 38]
VI.—THE PASSWORD—THE SONG OF ADMISSION
There prevailed among the practitioners of the hula from one
end of the group to the other a mutual understanding,
amounting almost to a sort of freemasonry, which gave to any
member of the guild the right of free entrance at all times
to the hall, or halau, where a performance was under way.
Admission was conditioned, however, on the utterance of a
password at the door. A snatch of song, an oli, denominated
*mele kahea*, or *mele wehe puka*, was chanted, which, on
being recognized by those within, was answered in the same
language of hyperbole, and the door was opened.
The verbal accuracy of any mele kahea that may be adduced is
at the present day one of the vexed questions among hula
authorities, each hula-master being inclined to maintain that
the version given by another is incorrect. This remark
applies, though in smaller measure, to the whole body of
mele, pule, and oli that makes up the songs and liturgy of
the hula as well as to the traditions that guided the
maestro, or kumu-hula, in the training of his company. The
reasons for these differences of opinion and of test, now
that there is to be a written text, are explained by the
following facts: The devotees and practitioners of the hula
were divided into groups that were separated from one another
by wide intervals of sea and land. They belonged quite likely
to more than one cult, for indeed there were many gods and
*au-makua* to whom they sacrificed and offered prayers. The
passwords adopted by one generation or by the group of
practitioners on one island might suffer verbal changes in
transmission to a later generation or to a remote island.
Again, it should be remembered that the entire body of
material forming the repertory of the hula—pule, mele, and
oli—was intrusted to the keeping of the memory, without the
aid of letters or, so far as known, of any mnemonic device;
and the human mind, even under the most athletic discipline,
is at best an imperfect conservator of literary form. The
result was what might be expected: as the imagination and
emotions of the minstrel warmed under the inspiration of his
trust, glosses and amendments crept in. These, however,
caused but slight variations in the text. The substance
remains substantially the same.
After carefully weighing the matter, the author can not avoid
the conclusion that jealousy had much to do with the slight
differences now manifest, that one version is as
[Page 39] authoritative as another, and that it would be well for each kumu-hula to have kept in mind the wise adage that shines among the sayings of his nation: _Aohe pau ka ike i kau halau _[56]—“Think not that all of wisdom resides in you halau.”[57]
[Footnote 56: Sophocles (Antigone, 705) had said the same
thing:[Greek: me nun en ethos pounon en sautô phorei ôs
phes su, kouden allo, tout’ orphôs echein]—“Don’t get this
idea fixed in your head, that what you say, and nothing else,
is right.”]
[Footnote 57: *Halau.* As previously explained, in this
connection *halau* has a meaning similar to our word
“school,” or “academy,” a place where some art was taught, as
wrestling, boxing, or the hula.]
*Mele Kahea*
Li’u-li’u aloha ia’u,
Ka uka o Koholá-lele,
Ka nahele mauka o Ka-papala [58] la.
Komo, e komo aku hoi au maloko.
5 Mai ho’ohewahewa mai oe ia’u; oau no ia,
Ke ka-nae-nae a ka mea hele,
He leo, e-e,
A he leo wale no, e-e!
Eia ka pu’u nui owaho nei la,
10 He ua, lie ino, he anu, he ko’e-ko’e.
E ku’u aloha, e,
Maloko aku au.
[Translation.]
*Password*
Long, long have I tarried with love
In the uplands of Koholá-lele,
The wildwood above Ka-papala.
To enter, permit me to enter, I pray;
5 Refuse me not recognition; I am he,
A traveler offering mead of praise,
Just a voice,
Only a human voice.
Oh, what I suffer out here,
10 Rain, storm, cold, and wet.
O sweetheart of mine,
Let me come in to you.
[Footnote 58: *Ka-papala.* A verdant region on the
southeastern flank of Mauna-Loa.]
Hear now the answer chanted by voices from within:
*Mele Komo*
Aloha na hale o makou i maka-maka ole,
Ke alanui hele mauka o Pu’u-kahea la, e-e!
Ka-he-a!
E Kahea aku ka pono e komo mai oe iloko nei.
Eia ka pu’u nui o waho nei, he anu.
[Page 40]
[Translation.]
*Song of Welcome*
What love to our cottage-homes, now vacant,
As one climbs the mount of Entreaty!
We call,
We voice the welcome, invite you to enter.
The hill of Affliction out there is the cold.
Another fragment that was sometimes used as a password is the
following bit of song taken from the story of Hiiaka, sister
of Pele. She is journeying with the beautiful Hopoe to fetch
prince Lohiau to the court of Pele. They have come by a steep
and narrow path to the brink of the Wai-lua river, Kauai, at
this point spanned by a single plank. But the bridge is gone,
removed by an ill-tempered naiad (witch) said to have come
from Kahiki, whose name, Wai-lua, is the same as that of the
stream. Hiiaka calls out, demanding that the plank be
restored to its place. Wai-lua does not recognize the deity
in Hiiaka and, sullen, makes no response. At this the goddess
puts forth her strength, and Wai-lua, stripped of her power
and reduced to her true station, that of a *mo’o*, a reptile,
seeks refuge in the caverns beneath the river. Hiiaka betters
the condition of the crossing by sowing it with stepping
stones. The stones remain in evidence to this day.
*Mele Kahea*
Kunihi ka mauna i ka la’i e,
O Wai-ale-ale[59] la i Wai-lua,
Huki a’e la i ka lani
Ka papa au-wai o ka Wai-kini;
5 Alai ia a’e la e Nou-nou,
Nalo ka Ipu-ha’a,
Ka laula mauka o Kapa’a, e!
Mai pa’a i ka leo!
He ole ka hea mai, e!
[Translation.]
Password—Song
Steep stands the mountain in calm,
Profile of Wai-ale-ale at Wai-lua.
Gone the stream-spanning plank of Wai-kini,
Filched away by Nou-nou;
5 Shut off the view of the hill Ipu-ha’a,
And the upland expanse of Ka-pa’a.
Give voice and make answer.
Dead silence—no voice in reply.
In later, in historic times, this visitor, whom we have kept
long waiting at the door, might have voiced his appeal in the
passionate words of this comparatively modern song:
[Footnote 59: *Wai-ale-ale* (Leaping-water). The central
mountain-mass of Kauai.]
[Page 41]
*Mele Kahea*[60]
Ka uka holo-kia ahi-manu o La’a,[61]
I po-ele i ka uahi, noe ka nahele,
Nohe-nohea i ka makani luhau-pua.
He pua oni ke kanaka—
5 He mea laha ole la oe.
Mai kaua e hea nei;
E hea i ke kanaka e komo maloko,
E hanai ai a hewa[62] ka wa’ha.
Eia no ka uku la, o ka wa’a.[63]
Translation]
*Password—Song*
In the uplands, the darting flame-bird of La’a,
While smoke and mist blur the woodland,
Is keen for the breath of frost-bitten flowers.
A fickle flower is man—
5 A trick this not native to you.
Come thou with her who is calling to thee;
A call to the man to come in
And eat till the mouth is awry.
Lo, this the reward—the canoe.
[Footnote 60: This utterance of passion is said to have been,
the composition of the Princess-Kamamalu, as an address to
Prince William Lunalilo, to whom she was at one time
affianced and would have married, but that King Liholiho
(Kamehameha IV) would not allow the marriage. Thereby hangs a
tragedy.]
[Footnote 61: *La’a*. The region in Hawaii now known as Ola’a
was originally called La’a. The particle *o* has become fused
with the word.]
[Footnote 62: *Hewa ka waha*. This expression, here tortured
into “(till) the mouth awry,” is difficult of translation. A
skilled Hawaiian scholar suggests, it may mean to change one
from, an enemy to a friend by stopping his mouth with food.]
[Footnote 63: *Wa’a*. Literally a canoe. This is a euphemism
for the human body, a gift often too freely granted. It will
be noted that in the answering mele komo, the song of
admission, the reward promised is more modestly
measured—“Simply the voice.”]
The answer to this appeal for admission was in these words:
*Mele Komo*
E hea i ke kanaka e komo maloko,
E hanai ai a hewa waha;
Eia no ka uku la, o ka leo,
A he leo wale no, e!
[Translation.]
Welcoming-Song
Call to the man to come in,
And eat till the mouth is estopt;
And this the reward, the voice,
Simply the voice.
The cantillation of the *mele komo*: in answer to the
visitor’s petition, meant not only the opening to him of the
halau door, but also his welcome to the life of the halau as
a heart-guest of honor, trebly welcome as the bringer of
fresh tidings from the outside world.
[Page 42]
VII.—WORSHIP AT THE ALTAR OF THE HALAU
The first duty of a visitor on being admitted to the halau
while the tabu was on—that is, during the conduct of a
regular hula—was to do reverence at the kuahu. The
obligations of religion took precedence of all social
etiquette. He reverently approaches the altar, to which all
eyes are turned, and with outstretched hands pours out a
supplication that breathes the aroma of ancient prayer:
*Pule Kuahu* (no Laka)
O Laka oe,
O ke akua i ke a’a-lii[64] nui.
E Laka mai uka!
E Laka mai kai!
5 O hoo-ulu[65] o Lono,
O ka ilio nana e haehae ke aha,
O ka ie-ie ku i ka wao,
O ka maile hihi i ka nahele,
O ka lau ki-ele[66] ula o ke akua,
10 O na ku’i[67] o Hauoli,
O Ha’i-ka-malama,[68]
Wahine o Kina’u.[69]
Kapo ula[70] o Kina’u.
O Laka oe,
15 O ke akua i ke kuahu nei la, e!
E ho’i, e ho’i a nolao i kou kuahu.
Hoo-ulu ia!
[Footnote 64: *A’a-lii*. A deep-rooted tree, sacred to Laka
or to Kapo.]
[Footnote 65: Hoo-ulu. Literally to make grow; secondarily,
to inspire, to prosper, to bring good luck. This is the
meaning most in mind in modern times, since the hula has
become a commercial venture.]
[Footnote 66: *Ki-ele*. A flowering plant native to the
Hawaiian woods, also cultivated, sacred to Laka, and perhaps
to Kapo. The leaves are said to be pointed and curved like
the beak of the bird *i-iwi*, and the flower has the gorgeous
yellow-red color of that bird.]
[Footnote 67: It has been proposed to amend this verse by
substituting *akua*, for *ku’i*, thus making the idea the
gods of the hula.]
[Footnote 68: *Haí-ka-malama*. An epithet applied to Laka.]
[Footnote 69: *Kina’u*. Said to mean Hiiaka, the sister of
Pele.]
[Footnote 70: *Kapo ula*. Red, *ula*, was the favorite color
of Kapo. The *kahuna anaana*, high priests of sorcery, of the
black art, and of murder, to whom Kapo was at times
procuress, made themselves known as such by the display of a
red flag and the wearing of a red malo.]
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer* (to Laka)
Thou art Laka,
God of the deep-rooted a’a-lii.
O Laka from the mountains,
O Laka from the ocean!
[Page 43] 5 Let Lono bless the service, Shutting the mouth of the dog, That breaks the charm with his barking. Bring the i-e that grows in the wilds, The maile that twines in the thicket, 10 Red-beaked kiele, leaf of the goddess, The joyous pulse of the dance In honor of Ha’i-ka-malama, Friend of Kina’u, Red-robed friend of Kina’u. 15 Thou art Laka, God of this altar here. Return, return and reside at your altar! Bring it good luck!
A single prayer may not suffice as the offering at Laka’s
altar. His repertory is full; the visitor begins anew, this
time on a different tack:
*Pule Kuahu* (no Laka)
Eia ke kuko, ka li’a;
I ka manawa he hiamoe ko’u,
Hoala ana oe,
O oe o Halau-lani,
5 O Hoa-lani,
O Puoho-lani,
Me he manu e hea ana i ka maha lehua
Ku moho kiekie la i-uka.
I-uka ho’i au me Laka
10 A Lea,[71] a Wahie-loa,[72], i ka nahelehele;
He hoa kaana ia no’u,
No kela kuahiwi, kualono hoi.
E Laka, e Laka, e!
E maliu mai!
15 A maliu mai oe pono au,
A a’e mai oe pono au!
[Translation.]
*Altar-Prayer* (to Laka)
This my wish, my burning desire,
That in the season of slumber
Thy spirit my soul may inspire,
Altar-dweller,
5 Heaven-guest,
Soul-awakener,
Bird from covert calling,
Where forest champions stand.
There roamed I too with Laka,
[Page 44] 10 Of Lea and Loa a wilderness-child; On ridge, in forest boon companion she To the heart that throbbed in me. O Laka, O Laka, Hark to my call! 15 You approach, it is well; You possess me, I am blest!
[Footnote 71: *Lea*. The same as Laia, or probably Haumea.]
[Footnote 72: *Wahie loa*. This must be a mistake. Laka the
son of Wahie-loa was a great voyager. His canoe
(*kau-méli-éli*) was built for him by the gods. In it he
sailed to the South to rescue his father’s bones from the
witch who had murdered him. This Laka had his home at
Kipahulu, Maui, and is not to be confounded with Laka,
goddess of the hula.]
In the translation of this pule the author has found it
necessary to depart from the verse arrangement that obtains
in the Hawaiian text.
The religious services of the halau, though inspired by one
motive, were not tied to a single ritual or to one set of
prayers. Prayer marked the beginning and the ending of every
play—that is, of every dance—and of every important event
in the programme of the halau; but there were many prayers
from which the priest might select. After the prayer
specially addressed to Laka the visitor might use a petition
of more general scope. Such is the one now to be given:
He Pule Kuahu (ia Kane ame Kapo); *a he Pule Hoolei*
Kane, hiki a’e, he maláma [73] la luna;
Ha’aha’a, he maláma ia lalo;
Oni-oni,[74] he málama ia ka’u;
He wahine [75] lei, málama ia Kapo;
5 E Kapo nui, hala-hala [76] a i’a;
E Kapo nui, hala-hala [77] a mea,
Ka alihi [78] luna, ka alihi lalo;
E ka poha-kú.[79]
Noho ana Kapo i ka ulu wehi-wehi;
10 Ku ana i Moo-helaia,[80]
Ka ohi’a-Ku iluna o Mauna-loa.
Aloha mai Kaulana-a-ula [81] ia’u;
Eia ka ula la, he ula leo,[82]
He uku, he mohai, he alana,
[Page 45] 15 He kanaenae na’u ia oe, e Kapo ku-lani. E moe hauna-ike, e hea au, e o mai oe. Aia la na lehua o Kaana[83] Ke kui ia mai la e na wahine a lawa I lei no Kapo— 20 O Kapo, alii nui no ia moku, Ki’e-ki’e, ha’a-ha’a; Ka la o ka ike e ike aku ai: He ike kumu, he ike lono; He ike pu-awa [84] hiwa, 25 He ike a ke Akua, e! E Kapo, ho’i! E ho’i a noho i kou kuahu. Ho’ulu ia! Eia ka wai,[85] la, 30 He wai e ola. E ola nou, e!
[Footnote 73: *Maláma*. Accented on the penult, as here, the
word means to enlighten or a light (same in second verse). In
the third and fourth verses the accent is changed to the
first syllable, and the word here means to preserve, to
foster. These words furnish an example of poetical
word-repetition.]
[Footnote 74: *Onioni.* To squirm, to dodge, to move. The
meaning here seems to be to move with delight.]
[Footnote 75: *Wahine lei.* A reference to *Laka*, the child
of Kapo, who was symbolized by a block of wood on the altar.
(See p. 23.)]
[Footnote 76: *Hala-hala a i’a.* Said to be a certain kind of
fish that was ornamented about its tailend with a band of
bright color; therefore an object of admiration and desire.]
[Footnote 77: *Hala-Hala a mea.* The ending *mea* is perhaps
taken from the last half of the proper name *Hau-mea* who was
Kapo’s mother. It belongs to the land, in contrast to the
sea, and seems to be intended to intensify and extend the
meaning of the term previously used. The passage is
difficult. Expert Hawaiians profess their inability to fathom
its meaning.]
[Footnote 78: *Alihi luna.* The line or “stretching cord,”
that runs the length of a net at its top, the *a lalo* being
the corresponding line at the bottom of the net. The exact
significance of this language complimentary to Kapo can not
be phrased compactly.]
[Footnote 79: *Poha-kú.* The line that runs up and down at the
end of a long net, by which it may be anchored.]
[Footnote 80: *Moo-helaia.* See note a, p. 33.]
[Footnote 81: *Kaulana-a-ula.* See note d, p, 33.]
[Footnote 82: *Ula leo.* See note e, p. 33.]
[Footnote 83: *Kaana.* A place on Mauna-loa, Molokai, where
the lehua greatly flourished. The body of Kapo, it is said,
now lies there in appearance a rock. The same claim is made
for a rock at Wailua, Hana, Maui.]
[Footnote 84: *Pu-awa hiwa (hiwa*, black). A kind of strong
awa. The gentle exhilaration, as well as the deep sleep, of
awa were benefits ascribed to the gods. Awa was an essential
to most complete sacrifices.]
[Footnote 85: *Wai.* Literally water, refers to the bowl of
awa, replenished each day, which set on the altar of the
goddess.]
Verses 9 to 15, inclusive, are almost identical in form with
the first seven verses in the Mele Kuahu addressed to Laka,
given on page 33.
[Translation.]
An *Altar-Prayer* (to Kane and Kapo): _also a Garland-Prayer,
used while decorating the altar_
Now, Kane, approach, illumine the altar;
Stoop, and enlighten mortals below;
Rejoice in the gifts I have brought.
Wreathed goddess fostered by Kapo—
5 Hail Kapo, of beauty resplendent!
Great Kapo, of sea and land,
The topmost stay of the net,
Its lower stay and anchoring line.
Kapo sits in her darksome covert;
10 On the terrace, at Mo’o-he-laia,
Stands the god-tree of Ku, on Mauna-loa.
God Kaulana-ula twigs now mine ear,
His whispered suggestion to me is
This payment, sacrifice, offering,
15 Tribute of praise to thee, O Kapo divine.
Inspiring spirit in sleep, answer my call.
Behold, of lehua bloom of Kaana
The women are stringing enough
To enwreath goddess Kapo;
20 Kapo, great queen of that island,
Of the high and the low.
The day of revealing shall see what it sees:
[Page 46] A seeing of facts, a sifting of rumors, An insight won by the black sacred awa, 25 A vision like that of a god! O Kapo, return! Return, and abide in your altar! Make it fruitful! Lo, here is the water, 30 The water of life! Hail, now, to thee!
The little god-folk, whom the ancients called Kini
Akua—myriads of gods—and who made the wildwoods and
wilderness their playground, must also be placated. They were
a lawless set of imps; the elfins, brownies, and kobolds of
our fairy world were not “up to them” in wanton deviltry. If
there is to be any luck in the house, it can only be when
they are dissuaded from outbreaking mischief.
The pule next given is a polite invitation to these little
brown men of the woods to honor the occasion with their
presence and to bring good luck at their coming. It is such a
prayer as the visitor might choose to repeat at this time, or
it might be used on other occasions, as at the consecration
of the kuahu:
*He Pule Kuahu* (no Kini Akua)
E ulu, e ulu, Kini o ke Akua!
Ulu Kane me Kanaloa!
Ulu Ohi’a-lau-koa, me ka Ie-ie!
A’e mai a noho i kou kuahu!
5 Eia ka wai la, he wai e ola.
E ola no, e-e!
[Translation.]
*An Altar-Prayer* (to the Kini Akua)
Gather, oh gather, ye hosts of godlings!
Come Kane with Kanaloa!
Come leafy Ohi’a and I-e!
Possess me and dwell in your altar!
5 Here’s water, water of life!
Life, give us life!
The visitor, having satisfied his sense of what the occasion
demands, changes his tone from that of cantillation to
ordinary speech, and concludes his worship with a petition
conceived in the spirit of the following prayer:
E ola ia’u, i ka malihini; a pela hoi na kamaaina, ke kumu,
na haumana, ia oe, e Laka. E Laka ia Pohaku i ka wawae. E
Laka i ke kupe’e. E Laka ia Luukia i ka pa-u; e Laka i ke
kuhi; e Laka i ka leo; e Laka i ka lei. E Laka i ke ku ana
imua o ke anaina.
[Page 47]
[Translation.]
Thy blessing, O Laka, on me the stranger, and on the
residents, teacher and pupils. O Laka, give grace to the feet
of Pohaku; and to her bracelets and anklets; comeliness to
the figure and skirt of Luukia. To (each one) give gesture
and voice. O Laka, make beautiful the lei; inspire the
dancers when they stand before the assembly.
At the close of this service of song and prayer the visitor
will turn from the kuahu and exchange salutations and
greetings with his friends in the halau.
The song-prayer “Now, Kane, approach, illumine the altar” (p.
45) calls for remark. It brings up again the question,
previously discussed, whether there were not two distinct
cults of worshipers, the one devoted to Laka, the other to
Kapo. The following facts will throw light on the question.
On either side of the approach to the altar stood,
sentinel-like, a tall stem of hala-pepe, a graceful, slender
column, its head of green sword-leaves and scarlet drupes
making a beautiful picture. (See p. 24.) These are said to
have been the special emblems of the goddess Kapo.
The following account of a conversation the author had with
an old woman, whose youthful days were spent as a hula
dancer, will also help to disentangle the subject and explain
the relation of Kapo to the hula:
“Will you not recite again the prayer you just now uttered,
and slowly, that it may be written down?” the author asked of
her. “Many prayers for the kuahu have been collected, but
this one differs from them all.”
“We Hawaiians,” she answered, “have been taught that these
matters are sacred (*kapu*) and must not be bandied about
from mouth to mouth.”
“Aye, but the time of the tabus has passed. Then, too, in a
sense having been initiated into hula matters, there can be
no impropriety in my dealing with them in a kindly spirit.”
“No harm, of course, will come to you, a *haole* (foreigner).
The question is how it will affect us.”
“Tell me, were there two different classes of worshipers, one
class devoted to the worship of Laka and another class
devoted to the worship of Kapo?”
“No,” she answered, “Kapo and Laka were one in spirit, though
their names were two.”
“Haumea was the mother of Kapo. Who was her father?”
“Yes, Haumea was the mother, and Kua-ha-ilo [86] was the
father:”
“How about Laka?”
[Footnote 86: *Kua-ha-ilo.* A god of the *kahuna anaana;*
meaning literally to breed maggots in the back.]
[Page 48] “Laka was the daughter of Kapo. Yet as a patron, of the hula Laka stands first; she was worshiped at an earlier date than Kapo; but they are really one.”
Further questioning brought out the explanation that Laka was
not begotten in ordinary generation; she was a sort of
emanation from Kapo. It was as if the goddess should sneeze
and a deity should issue with the breath from her nostrils;
or should wink, and thereby beget spiritual offspring from
the eye, or as if a spirit should issue forth at some
movement of the ear or mouth.
When the old woman’s scruples had been laid to rest, she
repeated slowly for the author’s benefit the pule given on
pages 45 and 46, “Now, Kane, approach,” * * * of which the
first eight lines and much of the last part, to him, were
new.
[Page 49]
VIII.—COSTUME OF THE HULA DANCER
The costume of the hula dancer was much the same for both
sexes, its chief article a simple short skirt about the
waist, the pa-ú. (PL I.)
When the time has come for a dance, the halau becomes one
common dressing room. At a signal from the kumu the work
begins. The putting on of each article of costume is
accompanied by a special song.
First come the *ku-pe’e*, anklets of whale teeth, bone,
shell-work, dog-teeth, fiber-stuffs, and what not. While all
stoop in unison they chant the song of the anklet:
*Mele Ku-pe’e*
Aala kupukupu[87] ka uka o Kane-hoa.[88]
E ho-a![89]
Hoa na lima o ka makani, he Wai-kaloa.[90]
He Wai-kaloa ka makani anu Lihue.
5 Alina[91] lehua i kau ka opua—
Ku’u pua,
Ku’u pua i’ini e ku-i a lei.
Ina ia oe ke lei ’a mai la.
[Translation.]
*Anklet-Song*
Fragrant the grasses of high Kane-hoa.
Bind on the anklets, bind!
Bind with finger deft as the wind
That cools the air of this bower.
5 Lehua bloom pales at my flower,
O sweetheart of mine,
Bud that I’d pluck and wear in my wreath,
If thou wert but a flower!
[Footnote 87: *Kupukupu*. Said to be a fragrant grass.]
[Footnote 88: *Kane-hoa*. Said to be a hill at Kaupo, Maui.
Another person says it is a hill at Lihue, on Oahu. The same
name is often repeated.]
[Footnote 89: *Ho-a*. To bind. An instance of word-repetition,
common in Hawaiian poetry.]
[Footnote 90: *Wai-kaloa*. A cool wind that Wows at Lihue,
Kauai]
[Footnote 91: *Alina*. A scar, or other mark of disfigurement,
a moral blemish. In ancient times lovers inflicted injuries
on themselves to prove devotion.]
The short skirt, *pa-u*, was the most important piece of
attire worn by the Hawaiian female. As an article of daily
wear it represented many stages of evolution beyond the
primitive fig-leaf, being fabricated from a great variety of
[Page 50] materials furnished by the garden of nature. In its simplest terms the pa-ú was a mere fringe of vegetable fibers. When placed as the shield of modesty about the loins of a woman of rank, or when used as the full-dress costume of a dancing girl on a ceremonious occasion, it took on more elaborate forms, and was frequently of tapa, a fabric the finest specimens of which would not have shamed the wardrobe of an empress.
In the costuming of the hula girl the same variety obtained
as in the dress of a woman of rank. Sometimes her pa-ú would
be only a close-set fringe of ribbons stripped from the bark
of the hibiscus (*hau*), the *ti* leaf or banana fiber, or a
fine rush, strung upon a thong to encircle the waist. In its
most elaborate and formal style the pa-ú consisted of a strip
of fine tapa several yards long and of width to reach nearly
to the knees. It was often delicately tinted or printed, as
to its outer part, with stamped figures. The part of the tapa
skirt thus printed, like the outer, decorative one in a set
of tapa bed-sheets, was termed the *kilohana*.
The pa-ú worn by the danseuse, when of tapa, was often of
such volume as to balloon like the skirt of a coryphée. To
put it on was quite an art, and on that account, if not on
the score of modesty, a portion of the halau was screened
off and devoted to the use of the females as a dressing room,
being known as the *unu-lau-koa*, and to this place they
repaired as soon as the kumu gave the signal for dressing.
The hula pa-ú of the women was worn in addition to that of
daily life; the hula pa-ú of the men, a less pretentious
affair, was worn outside the malo, and in addition to it.
The method of girding on the pa-ú was peculiar. Beginning at
the right hip—some say the left—a free end was allowed to
hang quite to the knee; then, passing across the back,
rounding the left hip, and returning by way of the abdomen to
the starting point, another circuit of the waist was
accomplished; and, a reverse being made, the garment was
secured by passing the bight of the tapa beneath the hanging
folds of the pa-ú from below upward until it slightly
protruded above the border of the garment at the waist. This
second end was thus brought to hang down the hip alongside of
the first free end; an arrangement that produced a most
decorative effect.
The Hawaiians, in their fondness for giving personal names to
inanimate objects, named the two free ends (*apua*) of the
pa-ú respectively *Ku-kápu-úla-ka-láni* and *Léle-a-mahu’i*.
According to another method, which was simpler and more
commonly employed, the piece was folded sidewise and, being
gathered into pleats, a cord was inserted the length of the
fold. The cord was passed about the waist, knotted at the
hip, and thus held the garment secure.
[Page 51] While the girls are making their simple toilet and donning their unique, but scanty, costume, the kumu, aided by others, soothes the impatience of the audience and stimulates their imagination by cantillating a mele that sets forth in grandiloquent imagery the praise of the pa-ú.
*Oli Pa-ú*
Kakua pa-ú, ahu na kikepa![92]
I ka pa-ú noenoe i hooluu’a,
I hookakua ia a paa iluna o ka imu.[93]
Ku ka nu’a[94] o ka pali o ka wai kapu,
5 He kuina[95] pa-ú pali[96] no Kupe-hau,
I holo a paa ia, paa e Hono-kane.[97]
Malama o lilo i ka pa-ú.
Holo ilio la ke ala ka Manú[98] i na pali;
Pali ku kahakó liaka a-i,
10 I ke keiki pa-ú pali a Kau-kini,[99]
I hoonu’anu’a iluna o ka Auwana.[100]
[Page 52] Akahi ke ana, ka luhi i ka pa-ú: Ka ho-oio i ke kapa-wai, I na kikepa wai o Apua,[101] 15 I hopu ’a i ka ua noe holo poo-poo, Me he pa-ú elehiwa wale i na pali.
Ohiohi ka pali, ki ka liko o ka lama,
Mama ula[102] ia ka malua ula,
I hopu a omau ia e ka maino.
20 I[103] ka malo o Umi ku huná mai.
Ike’a ai na maawe wai oloná,[104]
E makili ia nei i Wahilau.[105]
Holo ke oloná, paa ke kapa.
Hu’a lepo ole ka pa-ú;
25 Nani ka o-iwi ma ka maka kilo-hana.[106]
Makalii ka ohe,[107] paa ke kapa.
Opua ke ahi i na pali,
I hookau kalena ia e ka makani,
I kaomi pohaku ia i Wai-manu,
30 I na alá[108] ki-óla-óla;
I na alá, i alá lele
Ia Kane-poha-ka’a.[109]
Paa ia Wai-manu,[110] o-oki Wai-pi’o;
Lalau o Ha’i i ka ohe,
Ia Koa’e-kea,[111] 35
I kauhihi ia ia ohe laulii, ia ohe.
Oki’a a moku, mo’ ke kini,[112]
[Page 53] Mo’ ke kihi, ka maiáma ka Hoaka,[113] I apahu ia a poe, 40 O awili[114] o Malu-ó.
He pola ia no ka pa-ú;
E hii ana e Ka-holo-kua-iwa,
Ke amo la e Pa-wili-wlli
I ka pa-ú poo kau-poku—[115]
45 Kau poku a hana ke ao,
Kau iluna o Hala’a-wili,
I owili hana haawe.
Ku-ka’a, olo-ka’a wahie;
Ka’a ka opeope, ula ka pali;[116]
50 Uwá, kamalii, hookani ka pihe,
Hookani ka a’o,[117] a hana pilo ka leo,
I ka mahalo i ka pa-ú,
I ka pa-ú wai-lehua a Hi’i-lawe[118] iluna,
Pi’o anuenue a ka ua e ua nei.
[Footnote 92: *Kikepa*. The bias, the one-sided slant given
the pa-ú by tucking it in at one side, as previously
described.]
[Footnote 93: *Imu*. An oven; an allusion to the heat and
passion of the part covered by the pa-ú.]
[Footnote 94: *Hu’a*. Foam; figurative of the fringe at the
border of the pa-ú.]
[Footnote 95: *Kuina*. A term applied to the five sheets that
were stitched together (*kui*) to make a set of bed-clothes.
Five turns also, it is said, complete a pa-ú.]
[Footnote 96: *Pali no Kupe-Hau*. Throughout the poem the pa-ú
is compared to a *pali*, a mountain wall. Kupe-hau is a
precipitous part of Wai-pi’o valley.]
[Footnote 97: *Hono-kane*. A valley near Wai-pi’o. Here it is
personified and said to do the work on the pa-ú.]
[Footnote 98: *Manú*. A proper name given to this pa-ú.]
[Footnote 99: *Kau-kini*. The name of a hill back of
Lahaina-luna, the traditional residence of a *kahuna* named
*Lua-hoo-moe*, whose two sons were celebrated for their manly
beauty. Ole-pau, the king of the island Maui, ordered his
retainer, Lua-hoo-moe, to fetch for his eating some young
*u-a’u*, a sea-bird that nests and rears its young in the
mountains. These young birds are esteemed a delicacy. The
kahuna, who was a bird-hunter, truthfully told the king that
it was not the season for the young birds; the parent birds
were haunting the ocean. At this some of the king’s boon
companions, moved by ill-will, charged the king’s mountain
retainer with suppressing the truth, and in proof they
brought some tough old birds caught at sea and had them
served for the king’s table. Thereupon the king, not
discovering the fraud, ordered that Lua-hoo-moe should be put
to death by fire. The following verses were communicated to
the author as apropos of Kau-kini, evidently the name of a
man:
Ike ia Kau-kini, he lawaia manu.
He upena ku’u i ka noe i Poha-kahi,
Ua hoopulu ia i ka ohu ka kikepa;
Ke na’i la i ka luna a Kea-auwana;
Ka uahi i ke ka-peku e hei ai ka manu o Pu-o-alii.
O ke alii wale no ka’u i makemake
Ali’a la, ha’o, e!
[Translation.]
Behold Kau-kini, a fisher of birds;
Net spread in the mist of Poha-kahi,
That is soaked by the sidling fog.
It strives on the crest of Koa-auwana.
Smoke traps the birds of Pu-o-alii.
It’s only the king that I wish:
But stay now—I doubt.
] [Footnote 100: Auwana. Said to be an eminence on the flank of Haleakala, back of Ulupalakua.]
[Footnote 101: *Apua*. A place on Hawaii, on Maui, on Oahu, on
Kauai, and on Molokai.]
[Footnote 102: *Mama ula ia ka malua ula*. The malua-ula was a
variety of tapa that was stained with *hili kukui* (the
root-bark of the kukui tree). The ripe kukui nut was chewed
into a paste and mingled with this stain. *Mama ula* refers
to this chewing. The *malua ula* is mentioned as a foil to
the pa-ú, being a cheap tapa.]
[Footnote 103: *I*. A contracted form of *ti* or *ki*, the
plant or, as in this case, the leaf of the *ti*, the Dracæna
(pl. V). Liloa, the father Of Umi, used it to cover himself
after his amour with the mother of Umi, having given his malo
in pledge to the woman. Umi may have used this same leaf as a
substitute for the malo while in the wilderness of
Laupahoehoe, hiding away from his brother, King Hakau.]
[Footnote 104: *Oloná*. A strong vegetable fiber sometimes
added to tapa to give it strength. The fibers of olona in
the fabric of the pa-ú are compared to the runnels and
brooklets of *Waihilau*.]
[Footnote 105: *Wai-hilau*. Name applied to the water that
drips in a cave in Puna. It is also the name of a stream in
Wai-pi’o valley, Hawaii.]
[Footnote 106: *Kilo-hana*. The name given the outside,
ornamented, sheet of a set (*kuina*) of five tapas used as
bed-clothing. It was also applied to that part of a pa-ú
which was decorated with figures. The word comes from
*kilohi*, to examine critically, and *hana*, to work, and
therefore means an ornamental work.]
[Footnote 107: *Ohe*. Bamboo. In this case the stamp, made from
bamboo, used to print the tapa.]
[Footnote 108: *Alá*. The hard, dark basalt of which the
Hawaiian *ko’i*, adz, is made; any pebble, or small
water-worn stone, such as would be used to hold in place the
pa-ú while spread out to dry.]
[Footnote 109: *Kane-poha-ka’a*. Kane-the-hail-sender. The
great god Kane was also conceived of as Kane-hekili, the
thunderer; Kane-lulu-honua, the earthquake-sender, etc.]
[Footnote 110: *Wai-manu* and *Wai-pi’o* are neighboring
valleys.]
[Footnote 111: *Ko-a’e-kea*. A land in Wai-pi’o valley.]
[Footnote 112: *Mo’ ke kihi*. Mo’ is a contracted form of
*moku*.]
[Footnote 113: *Hoaka.* The name of the moon in its second day,
or of the second day of the Hawaiian month; a crescent.]
[Footnote 114: *O awili o Malu-ó.* The most direct and evident
sense of the word *awili* is to wrap. It probably means the
wrapping of the pa-ú about the loins; or it may mean the
movable, shifty action of the pa-ú caused by the lively
actions of the dancer. The expression *Malu-ó* may be taken
from the utterance of the king’s *ilamuku* (constable or
sheriff) or other official, who, in proclaiming a tabu, held
an idol in his arms and at the same time called out _Kapu,
o-o!_ The meaning is that the pa-ú, when wrapped about the
woman’s loins, laid a tabu on the woman. The old Hawaiian
consulted on the meaning of this passage quoted the
following, which illustrates the fondness of his people for
endless repetitions and play upon words:
Awiliwili i ka hale[119] o ka lauwili, e.
He lauwili ka makani, he Kaua-ula,[120]
I hoapaapa i ka hale o ka lauwili, e:
[Translation.]
Unstable the house of the shifty man,
Fickle as the wind Kaua-ula.
Treachery lurks in the house of Unstable.
]
[Footnote 115: *Kaupoku.* A variant of the usual form, which is
*kaupaku*, the ridgepole of a house, its apex. The pa-ú
when worn takes the shape of a grass house, which has the
form of a haystack.]
[Footnote 116: *Ula ka pali.* Red shows the pali, i. e., the
side hill. This is a euphemism for some accident by which the
pa-ú has been displaced, and an exposure of the person has
taken place, as a result of which the boys scream and even
the sea-bird, the *a’o*, shrieks itself hoarse.]
[Footnote 117: *A’o.* A sea-bird, whose raucous voice is heard
in the air at night at certain seasons.]
[Footnote 118: *Hi’i-lawe*. A celebrated waterfall in Wai-pi’o
valley, Hawaii.]
[Footnote 119: Primitive meaning, house; second, the body as
the house of the soul.]
[Footnote 120: Kaua-ula. A strong wind that shifted from one
point to another, and that blew, often with great violence,
at Lahaina, Maui. The above triplet was often quoted by the
chiefs of olden time apropos of a person who was fickle in
love or residence. As the old book has it, “The double-minded
man is unstable in all his ways.” (_O ke kanáka lolilua ka
manao lauwili kona mau aoao a pau._)]
This is a typical Hawaiian poem of the better sort, keyed in
a highly imaginative strain. The multitude of specific
allusions to topographical names make it difficult to
[Page 54] translate it intelligently to a foreign mind. The poetical units are often so devised that each new division takes its clue from the last word of the previous verse, on the principle of “follow your leader,” a capital feature in Hawaiian poetry.
[Translation.]
Pa-ú Song
Gird on the pa-ú, garment tucked in one side,
Skirt lacelike and beauteous in staining,
That is wrapped and made fast about the oven.
Bubbly as foam of falling water it stands,
5 Quintuple skirt, sheer as the cliff Kupe-hau.
One journeyed to work on it at Honokane.
Have a care the pa-ú is not filched.
Scent from the robe Manú climbs the valley walls—
Abysses profound, heights twisting the neck.
10 A child is this steep thing of the cliff Kau-kini,
A swelling cloud on the peak of Auwana.
Wondrous the care and toil to make the pa-ú!
What haste to finish, when put a-soak
In the side-glancing stream of Apua!
15 Caught by the rain-scud that searches the glen,
The tinted gown illumines the pali—
The sheeny steep shot with buds of lama—
Outshining the comely malua-ula.
Which one may seize and gird with a strong hand.
20 Leaf of ti for his malo, Umi[121] stood covered.
Look at the oloná fibers inwrought,
Like the trickling brooklets of Wai-hilau.
The oloná fibers knit with strength
This dainty immaculate web, the pa-ú,
25 And the filmy weft of the kilo-hana.
With the small bamboo the tapa is finished.
A fire seems to bud on the pali,
When the tapa is spread out to dry,
Pressed down with stones at Wai-manu—
30 Stones that are shifted about and about,
Stones that are tossed here and there,
Like work of the hail-thrower Kane.
At Wai-manu finished, ’tis cut at Wai-pi’o;
Ha’i takes the bamboo Ko-a’e-kea;
[Page 55] 35 Deftly wields the knife of small-leafed bamboo; A bamboo choice and fit for the work. Cut, cut through, cut off the corners; Cut round, like crescent moon of Hoaka; Cut in scallops this shift that makes tabu: 40 A fringe is this for the pa-ú.
’Tis lifted by Ka-holo-ku-iwa,
’Tis borne by Pa-wili-wili;
A pa-ú narrow at top like a house,
That’s hung on the roof-tree till morning,
45 Hung on the roof-tree Ha-la’a-wili.
Make a bundle fitting the shoulder;
Lash it fast, rolled tight like a log.
The bundle falls, red shows the pali;
The children shout, they scream in derision.
50 The a’o bird shrieks itself hoarse
In wonder at the pa-ú—
Pa-ú with a sheen like Hi’i-lawe falls,
Bowed like the rainbow arch
Of the rain that’s now falling.
[Footnote 121: *Umi*. It was Liloa, the father of Umi, who
covered himself with a ti leaf instead of a malo after the
amour that resulted in the birth of Umi. His malo he had
given as a pledge to the woman, who became the mother of
Umi.]
The girls of the olapa, their work in the tiring-room
completed, lift their voices in a spirited song, and with a
lively motion pass out into the hall to bloom before the
waiting assembly in the halau in all the glory of their
natural charms and adornments:
*Oli*
Ku ka punohu ula i ka moana;
Hele ke ehu-kai, uhi i ka aina;
Olapa ka uila, noho i Kahiki.
Uina, nakolo,
5 Uwa, ka pihe,
Lau[122] kánaka ka hula.
E Laka, e!
[Translation.]
*Tiring Song*.
The rainbow stands red o’er the ocean;
Mist crawls from the sea and covers the land;
Far as Kahiki flashes the lightning;
A reverberant roar,
5 A shout of applause
From the four hundred.
I appeal to thee, Laka!
[Footnote 122: *Lau* (archaic). Four hundred.]
[Page 56] The answering song, led by the kumu, is in the same flamboyant strain:
*Oli*
Lele Mahu’ilani[123] a luna,
Lewa ia Kauna-lewa![124]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Lift Mahu’ilani on high;
Thy palms Kauna-lewa a-waving!
[Footnote 123: *Mahu’ilani*. A poetical name for the right
hand; this the *olapa*, the dancing girls, lifted in
extension as they entered the halau from the dressing room.
The left hand was termed *Kaohi-lani*.]
[Footnote 124: *Kauna-lewa*. The name of a celebrated grove of
coconuts at Kekaha, Kauai, near the residence of the late Mr.
Knudsen.]
After the ceremony of the pa-ú came that of the lei, a wreath
to crown the head and another for the neck and shoulders. It
was not the custom in the old times to overwhelm the body
with floral decorations and to blur the outlines of the
figure to the point of disfigurement; nor was every flower
that blows acceptable as an offering. The gods were jealous
and nice in their tastes, pleased only with flowers
indigenous to the soil—the ilima (pl. VI), the lehua, the
maile, the ie-ie, and the like (see pp. 19, 20). The ceremony
was quickly accomplished. As the company knotted the garlands
about head or neck, they sang:
*Oli Lei*
Ke lei mai la o Ka-ula i ke kai, e!
Ke malamalama o Niihau, ua malie.
A malie, pa ka Inu-wai.
Ke inu mai la na hala o Naue i ke kai.
5 No Naue, ka hala, no Puna ka wahine.[125]
No ka lua no i Kilauea.
[Translation.]
*Wreath Song*
Ka-ula wears the ocean as a wreath;
Nii-hau shines forth in the calm.
After the calm blows the wind Inu-wai;
Naue’s palms then drink in the salt.
5 From Naue the palm, from Puna the woman—
Aye, from the pit, Kilauea.
Tradition tells a pathetic story (p. 212) in narrating an
incident touching the occasion on which this song first was
sung.
[Footnote 125: *Wahine*. The woman, Pele.]
BULLETIN 38 PLATE VI
[Page 57]
IX.—THE HULA ALA’A-PAPA
Every formal hula was regarded by the people of the olden
time as a sacred and religious performance (*tabu*); but all
hulas were not held to be of equal dignity and rank
(*hanohano*). Among those deemed to be of the noblest rank
and honor was the *ala’a-papa*. In its best days this was a
stately and dignified performance, comparable to the
old-fashioned courtly minuet.
We shall observe in this hula the division of the performers
into two sets, the *hoopa’a* and the *olapa*. Attention will
naturally bestow itself first on the olapa, a division of the
company made up of splendid youthful figures, young men,
girls, and women in the prime of life. They stand a little
apart and in advance of the others, the right hand extended,
the left resting upon the hip, from which hangs in swelling
folds the pa-ú. The time of their waiting for the signal to
begin the dance gives the eye opportunity to make deliberate
survey of the forms that stand before us.
The figures of the men are more finely proportioned, more
statuesque, more worthy of preservation in marble or bronze
than those of the women. Only at rare intervals does one find
among this branch of the Polynesian race a female shape which
from crown to sole will satisfy the canons of
proportion—which one carries in the eye. That is not to say,
however, that the artistic eye will not often meet a shape
that appeals to the sense of grace and beauty. The springtime
of Hawaiian womanly beauty hastes away too soon. Would it
were possible to stay that fleeting period which ushers in
full womanhood!
One finds himself asking the question to what extent the
responsibility for this overthickness of leg and
ankle—exaggerated in appearance, no doubt, by the ruffled
anklets often worn—this pronounced tendency to the growth of
that degenerate weed, fat, is to be explained by the standard
of beauty which held sway in Hawaii’s courts and for many
ages acted as a principle of selection in the physical
molding of the Hawaiian female.
The prevailing type of physique among the Hawaiians, even
more marked in the women than in the men, is the short and
thick, as opposed to the graceful and slender. One does
occasionally find delicacy of modeling in the young and
immature; but with adolescence fatness too often comes to
blur the outline.
The hoopa’a, who act as instrumentalists, very naturally
maintain a position between sitting and kneeling, the better
[Page 58] to enable them to handle that strangely effective drumlike instrument, the ipu, the one musical instrument used as an accompaniment in this hula. The ipu is made from the bodies of two larger pear-shaped calabashes of unequal sizes, which are joined together at their smaller ends in such a manner as to resemble a figure-of-eight. An opening is left at the top of the smaller calabash to increase the resonance. In moments of calm the musicians allow the body to rest upon the heels; as the action warms they lift themselves to such height as the bended knee will permit.
The ala’a-papa is a hula of comparatively moderate action.
While the olapa employ hands, feet, and body in gesture and
pose to illustrate the meaning and emotion of the song, the
musicians mark the time by lifting and patting with the right
hand the ipu each holds in the left hand. If the action of
the play runs strong and stirs the emotions, each hoopa’a
lifts his ipu wildly, fiercely smites it, then drops it on
the padded rest in such manner as to bring out its deep
mysterious tone.
At a signal from the kumu, who sits with the hoopa’a, the
*poo-pua’a*, leader of the olapa, calls the mele (_kahea i ka
mele_)—that is, he begins its recitation—in a tone
differing but little from that of ordinary conversation, a
sing-song recitation, a vocalization less stilted and less
punctilious than that usually employed in the utterance of
the oli or mele. The kumu, the leader of the company, now
joins in, mouthing his words in full observance of the mele
style. His manner of cantillation may be either what may be
called the low relief, termed *ko’i-honua*, or a pompous
alto-relievo style, termed *ai-ha’a*. This is the signal for
the whole company to chime in, in the same style as the kumu.
The result, as it seems to the untutored ear, is a confusion
of sounds like that of the many-tongued roar of the ocean.
The songs cantillated for the hula ala’a-papa were many and
of great variety. It seems to have been the practice for the
kumu to arrange a number of mele, or poetical pieces, for
presentation in the hula in such order as pleased him. These
different mele, thus arranged, were called *pale*,
compartments, or *mahele*, divisions, as if they were
integral parts of one whole, while in reality their relation
to one another was only that of the juxtaposition imposed
upon them by the kumu.
The poetical pieces first to be presented were communicated
to the author as mahele, divisions—hardly cantos—in the
sense above defined. They are, however, distinct poems,
though there chances to run through them all a somewhat
similar motive. The origin of many of these is referred to a
past so remote that tradition assigns them to what the
Hawaiians call the *wa po*, the night of tradition, or they
say of them, *no ke akua mai*, they are from the gods. It
[Page 59] matters not how faithful has been the effort to translate these poems, they will not be found easy of comprehension. The local allusions, the point of view, the atmosphere that were in the mind of the savage are not in our minds to-day, and will not again be in any mind on earth; they defy our best efforts at reproduction. To conjure up the ghostly semblance of these dead impalpable things and make them live again is a problem that must be solved by each one with such aid from the divining rod of the imagination as the reader can summon to his help.
Now for the play, the song:
*Mele no Ka Hula Alá’a-papa*
MAHELE-HELE I
PAUKU 1
A Koolau wau, ike i ka ua,
E ko-kolo la-lepo ana ka ua,
E ka’i ku ana, ka’i mai ana ka ua,
E nu mai ana ka ua i ke kuahiwi,
5 E po’i ana ka ua me he nalu la.
E puka, a puka mai ka ua la.
Waliwali ke one i ka hehi’a e ka ua;
Ua holo-wai na kaha-wai;
Ua ko-ké wale na pali.
10 Aia ka wai la i ka ilina,[126] he ilio,
He ilio hae, ke nahu nei e puka.
[Translation.]
*Song for the Hula Alá’a-papa.*
CANTO I
STANZA 1
’Twas in Koolau I met with the rain:
It comes with lifting and tossing of dust,
Advancing in columns, dashing along.
The rain, it sighs in the forest;
5 The rain, it beats and whelms, like the surf;
It smites, it smites now the land.
Pasty the earth from the stamping rain;
Full run the streams, a rushing flood;
The mountain walls leap with the rain.
10 See the water chafing its bounds like a dog,
A raging dog, gnawing its way to pass out.
This song is from the story of Hiiaka on her journey to Kauai
to bring the handsome prince, Lohiau, to Pele. The region is
that on the windward, *Koolau*, side of Oahu.
[Footnote 126: *Ilina*. A sink, a place where a stream sinks
into the earth or sand.]
[Page 60]
PAUKU 2
Hoopono oe, he aina kai Waialua i ka hau;
Ke olelo[127] wale no la i ka lani.
Lohe ka uka o ka pehu i Ku-kani-loko.[128]
I-loko, i-waho kaua la, e ka hoa,
5 I kahi e pau ai o ka oni?
Oni ana i ka manawa o ka lili.
Pee oe, pee ana iloko o ka hilahila.
I hilahila wale ia no e oe;
Nou no ka hale,[129] komo mai maloko.
The lines from the fourth to the ninth in this stanza
(*pauku*) represent a dialogue between two lovers.
[Translation.]
STANZA 2
Look now, Waialua, land clothed with ocean-mist—
Its wilderness-cries heaven’s ear only hears,
The wilderness-gods of Ku-kani-loko.
Within or without shall we stay, friend,
5 Until we have stilled the motion?
To toss is a sign of impatience.
You hide, hiding as if from shame,
I am bashful because of your presence;
The house is yours, you’ve only to enter.
PAUKU 3
(Ko’i-honua)
Pakú Kea-au,[130] lulu Wai-akea;[131]
Noho i ka la’i loa o Hana-kahi,[132]
O Hilo, i olokea[133] ia, i au la, e, i kai,
O Lele-iwi,[134] o Maka-hana-loa.[135]
5 Me he kaele-papa[136] la Hilo, i lalo ka noho.
Kaele[137] wale Hilo i ke alai ia e ka ua.
Oi ka niho o ka ua o Hilo i ka lani;
Kua-wa’a-wa’a Hilo eli ’a e ka wai;
Kai-koo, haki na nalu, ka ua o Hilo;
[Page 61] 10 Ha’i lau-wili mai ka nahele. Nanalu, kahe waikahe o Wai-luku; Hohonu Waiau,[138] nalo ke poo o ka lae o Moku-pane;[139] Wai ulaula o Wai-anue-nue;[140] Ka-wowo nui i ka wai o Kolo-pule-pule;[141] 15 Halulu i ha-ku’i, ku me he uahi la Ka puá, o ka wai ua o-aka i ka lani. Eleele Hilo e, pano e, i ka ua; Okakala ka hulu o Hilo i ke anu; Pili-kau[142] mai Hilo ia ua loa. 20 Pali-ku laau ka uka o Haili[143] Ka lae ohi’a e kope-kope, Me he aha moa la, ka pale pa laau, Ka nahele o Pa-ie-ie,[144] Ku’u po’e lehua iwaena konu o Mo-kau-lele;[145] 25 Me ka ha’i laau i pu-kaula hala’i i ka ua. Ke nana ia la e la’i i Hanakahi. Oni aku Hilo, oni ku’u kai lipo-lipo, A Lele-iwi, ku’u kai ahu mimiki a ka Malua.[146] Lei kahiko, lei nalu ka poai. 30 Nana Pu’u-eo[147] e! makai ka iwi-honua,[148] e! Puna-hoa la, ino, ku, ku wau a Wai-akea la.
[Footnote 127: *Olelo*. To speak, to converse; here used
figuratively to mean that the place is lonely, has no view of
the ocean, looks only to the sky. “Looks that commerce with
the sky.”]
[Footnote 128: *Ku-kani-loko*. A land in Waialua, Oahu, to
which princesses resorted in the olden times at the time of
childbirth, that their offspring might have the distinction
of being an *alii kapu*, a chief with a tabu.]
[Footnote 129: *Hale* House; a familiar euphemism of the human
body.]
[Footnote 130: *Kea-au*. An *ahu-pua’a*, small division of
land, in Puna adjoining Hilo, represented as sheltering Hilo
on that side.]
[Footnote 131: *Waiakea*. A river in Hilo, and the land through
which it flows.]
[Footnote 132: *Hana-kahi*. A land on the Hamakua side of Hilo,
also a king whose name was a synonym for profound peace.]
[Footnote 133: *Olo-kea*. To be invited or pulled many ways at
once; distracted.]
[Footnote 134: *Lele-iwi*. A cape on the north side of Hilo.]
[Footnote 135: *Maka-hana-loa*. A cape.]
[Footnote 136: *Kaele-papa*. A large, round, hollowed board on
which to pound taro in the making of poi. The poi-board was
usually long and oval.]
[Footnote 137: *Kaele*. In this connection the meaning is
surrounded, encompassed by.]
[Footnote 138: *Waiau*. The name given to the stretch of
Wailuku river near its mouth.]
[Footnote 139: *Moku-pane*. The cape between the mouth of the
Wailuku river and the town of Hilo.]
[Footnote 140: *Wai-anue-nue*. Rainbow falls and the river that
makes the leap.]
[Footnote 141: *Kolo-pule-pule*. Another branch of the Wailuku
stream.]
[Footnote 142: *Pili-kau*. To hang low, said of a cloud.]
[Footnote 143: *Haili*. A region in the inland, woody, part of
Hilo.]
[Footnote 144: *Pa-ieie*. A well-wooded part of Hilo, once much
resorted to by bird-hunters; a place celebrated in Hawaiian
song.]
[Footnote 145: *Mokau-lele*. A wild, woody region In the
interior of Hilo.]
[Footnote 146: *Malua*. Name given to a wind from a northerly
or northwesterly direction on several of the islands. The
full form is Malua-lua.]
[Footnote 147: *Pu’u-eo*. A village in the Hilo district near
Puna.]
[Footnote 148: *Iwi-honua*. Literally a bone of the earth: a
projecting rock or a shoal; if in the water, an object to be
avoided by the surf-rider. In this connection see note *e*,
p. 36.]
[Translation.]
STANZA 3
(With distinct utterance)
Kea-au shelters, Waiakea lies in the calm,
The deep peace of King Hana-kahi.
Hilo, of many diversions, swims in the ocean,
’Tween Point Lele-iwi and Maka-hana-loa;
5 And the village rests in the bowl,
Its border surrounded with rain—
Sharp from the sky the tooth of Hilo’s rain.
Trenched is the land, scooped out by the downpour—
Tossed and like gnawing surf is Hilo’s rain—
10 Beach strewn with a tangle of thicket growth;
A billowy freshet pours in Wailuku;
Swoll’n is Wai-au, flooding the point Moku-pane;
And red leaps the water of Anue-nue.
A roar to heaven sends up Kolo-pule,
[Page 62] 15 Shaking like thunder, mist rising like smoke. The rain-cloud unfolds in the heavens; Dark grows Hilo, black with the rain. The skin of Hilo grows rough from the cold; The storm-cloud hangs low o’er the land. 20 A rampart stand the woods of Haili; Ohi’as thick-set must be brushed aside, To tear one’s way, like a covey of fowl, In the wilds of Pa-ie-ie— Lehua growths mine—heart of Mokau-lele. 25 A breaking, a weaving of boughs, to shield from rain; A look enraptured on Hana-kahi, Sees Hilo astir, the blue ocean tossing Wind-thrown-spray—dear sea—’gainst Point Lele-iwi— A time-worn foam-wreath to encircle its brow. 30 Look, Pu’u-eo! guard ’gainst the earth-rib! It’s Puna-hoa reef; halt! At Waiakea halt!
PAUKU 4
(Ai-ha’a)
Kua loloa Kea-au i ka nahele;
Hala kua hulu-hulu Pana-ewa i ka laau;
Inoino ka maha o ka ohia o La’a.
Ua ku kepakepa ka maha o ka lehua;
5 Ua po-po’o-hina i ka wela a ke Akua.
Ua u-ahi Puna i ka oloka’a pohaku,
I ka huna pa’a ia e ka wahine.
Nanahu ahi ka papa o Olu-ea;
Momoku ahi Puna hala i Apua;
10 Ulu-á ka nahele me ka laau.
Oloka’a kekahi ko’i e Papa-lau-ahi;
I eli ’a kahi ko’i e Ku-lili-kaua.
Kai-ahea a hala i Ka-li’u;
A eu e, e ka La, ka malama-lama.
15 O-na-naka ka piko o Hilo ua me ke one,
I huli i uka la, i hulihia i kai;
Ua wa-wahi ’a, ua na-ha-há,
Ua he-hele-lei!
[Translation.]
STANZA 4
(Bombastic style)
Ke’-au is a long strip of wildwood;
Shag of pandanus mantles Pan’-ewa;
Scraggy the branching of Laa’s ohias;
The lehua limbs at sixes and sevens—
5 They are gray from the heat of the goddess.
[Page 63] Puna smokes mid the bowling of rocks— Wood and rock the She-god heaps in confusion, The plain Oluea’s one bed of live coals; Puna is strewn with fires clean to Apua, 10 Thickets and tall trees a-blazing. Sweep on, oh fire-ax, thy flame-shooting flood! Smit by this ax is Ku-lili-kaua. It’s a flood tide of lava clean to Kali’u, And the Sun, the light-giver, is conquered. 15 The bones of wet Hilo rattle from drought; She turns for comfort to mountain, to sea, Fissured and broken, resolved into dust.
This poem is taken from the story of Hiiaka. On her return
from the journey to fetch Lohiau she found that her sister
Pele had treacherously ravaged with fire Puna, the district
that contained her own dear woodlands. The description given
in the poem is of the resulting desolation.
PAUKA 5
No-luna ka Hale-kai[149] no ka ma’a-lewa,[150]
Nana ka maka ia Moana-nui-ka-lehua.[151]
Noi au i ke Kai, e mali’o.[152]
Ina ku a’e la he lehua[153] ilaila!
5 Hopoe-lehua[154] kiekie.
Maka’u ka lehua i ke kanáka,[155]
Lilo ilalo e hele ai, e-e,
A ilalo hoi.
O Kea-au[156] ili-ili nehe ke kai,
[Page 64] 10 Hoo-lono[157] ke kai o Puna I ka ulu hala la, e-e, Kai-ko’o Puna. Ia hooneenee ia pili mai[158] kaua, e ke hoa. Ke waiho e mai la oe ilaila. 15 Ela ka mea ino la, he anu, A he anu me he mea la iwaho kaua, e ke hoa; Me he wai la ko kaua ili.
[Footnote 149: *Hale-kai*. A wild mountain, glen back of
Hanalei valley, Kauai.]
[Footnote 150: *Ma’alewa*. An aerial root that formed a sort
of ladder by which one climbed the mountain steeps; literally
a shaking sling.]
[Footnote 151: *Moana-nui-ka-lehua*. A female demigod that came
from the South (*Ku-kulu-o-Kahiki*) at about the same
mythical period as that of Pele’s arrival—If not in her
company—and who was put in charge of a portion of the
channel that lies between Kauai and Oahu. This channel was
generally termed *Ie-ie-waena* and *Ie-ie-waho*. Here the
name *Moana-nui-ka-lehua* seems to be used to indicate the
sea as well as the demigoddess, whose dominion it was.
Ordinarily she appeared as a powerful fish, but she was
capable of assuming the form of a beautiful woman (mermaid?).
The title *lehua* was given her on account of her womanly
charms.]
[Footnote 152: *Mali’o*. Apparently another form of the word
*malino*, calm; at any rate it has the same meaning.]
[Footnote 153: *Lehua*. An allusion to the ill-fated’ young
woman Hopoe, who was Hiiaka’s intimate friend. The allusion
is amplified in the next line.]
[Footnote 154: *Hopoe-lehua*. The lehua tree was one of the
forms in which Hopoe appeared, and after her death, due to
the jealous rage of Pele, she was turned into a charred lehua
tree which stood on the coast subject to the beating of the
surf.]
[Footnote 155: *Maka’u ka lehua i ke kanaka*. Another version
has it *Maka’u ke kanaka i ka lehua*; Man fears the lehua.
The form here used is perhaps an ironical allusion to man’s
fondness not only to despoil the tree of its scarlet flowers,
but womanhood, the woman it represented.]
[Footnote 156: *Kea-au*. Often shortened in pronunciation to
*Ke-au*, a fishing village in Puna near Hilo town. It now has
a landing place for small vessels.]
[Footnote 157: *Hoolono*. To call, to make an uproar, to spread
a report.]
[Footnote 158: *Ia hoo-nee-nee ia pili mai*. A very peculiar
figure of speech. It Is as if the poet personified, the act
of two lovers snuggling up close to each other. Compare with
this the expression *No huli mai*, used by another poet in
the thirteenth line of the lyric given on p. 204. The motive
is the same in each case.]
The author of this poem of venerable age is not known. It is
spoken of as belonging to the *wa po*, the twilight of
tradition. It is represented to be part of a mele taught to
Hiiaka by her friend and preceptress in the hula, Hopoe.
Hopoe is often called *Hopoe-wahine*. From internal evidence
one can see that it can not be in form the same as was given
to Hiiaka by Hopoe; it may have been founded on the poem of
Hopoe. If so, it has been modified.
[Translation.]
STANZA 5
From mountain retreat and root-woven ladder
Mine eye looks down on goddess Moana-Lehua;
I beg of the Sea, Be thou calm;
Would there might stand on thy shore a lehua—
5 Lehua-tree tall of Ho-poe.
The lehua is fearful of man;
It leaves him to walk on the ground below,
To walk the ground far below.
The pebbles at Ke’-au grind in the surf.
10 The sea at Ke’-au shouts to Puna’s palms,
“Fierce is the sea of Puna.”
Move hither, snug close, companion mine;
You lie so aloof over there.
Oh what a bad fellow is cold!
15 ’Tis as if we were out on the wold;
Our bodies so clammy and chill, friend!
The last five verses, which sound like a love song, may
possibly be a modern addition to this old poem. The sentiment
they contain is comparable to that expressed in the Song of
Welcome on page 39:
Eia ka pu’u nui o waho nei, he anu.
The hill of Affliction out there is the cold.
[Page 65]
MAHELE-HELE II
Hi’u-o-lani,[159] kii ka ua o Hilo[160] i ka lani;
Ke hookiikii mai la ke ao o Pua-lani;[161]
O mahele ana,[162] pulu Hilo i ka ua—
O Hilo Hana-kahi.[163]
5 Ha’i ka nalu, wai kaka lepo o Pii-lani;
Hai’na ka iwi o Hilo,
I ke ku ia e ka wai.
Oni’o lele a ka ua o Hilo i ka lani.
Ke hookiikii mai la ke ao o Pua-lani,
10 Ke holuholu a’e la e puka,
Puka e nana ke kiki a ka ua,
Ka nonoho a ka ua i ka hale o Hilo.
Like Hilo me Puna ke ku a mauna-ole[164]
He ole ke ku a mauna Hilo me Puna.
15 He kowa Puna mawaena Hilo me Ka-ú;
Ke pili wale la i ke kua i mauna-ole;
Pili hoohaha i ke kua o Mauna-loa.
He kuahiwi Ka-ú e pa ka makani.
Ke alai ia a’e la Ka-ú e ke A’e;[165]
20 Ka-u ku ke ehu lepo ke A’e;
Ku ke ehu-lepo mai la Ka-ú i ka makani.
Makani Kawa hu’a-lepo Ka-ú i ke A’e.
[Page 66] Kahiko mau no o Ka-ú i ka makani. Makani ka Lae-ka-ilio i Unu-lau, 25 Kaili-ki’i[166] a ka lua a Kaheahea,[167] I ka ha’a nawali ia ino.
Ino wa o ka mankani o Kau-ná.
Nana aku o ka makani malaila!
O Hono-malino, malino i ka la’i o Kona.
30 He inoa la!
[Footnote 159: *Hi’u-o-lani*. A very blind phrase. Hawaiians
disagree as to its meaning. In the author’s opinion, it is a
word referring to the conjurer’s art.]
[Footnote 160: *Ua o Hilo*. Hilo is a very rainy country. The
name Hilo seems to be used here as almost a synonym of
violent rain. It calls to mind the use of the word Hilo to
signify a strong wind:
Pa mai, pa mai,
Ka makani a Hilo![168]
Waiho ka ipu iki,
Homai ka ipu nui!
[Translation.]
Blow, blow, thou wind of Hilo!
Leave the little calabash,
Bring on the big one!
]
[Footnote 161: *Pua-lani*. The name of a deity who took the
form of the rosy clouds of morning.]
[Footnote 162: *Mahele ana*. Literally the dividing; an
allusion to the fact, it is said, that in Hilo a rain-cloud,
or rain-squall, as it came up would often divide and a part
of it turn off toward Puna at the cape named Lele-iwi,
one-half watering, in the direction of the present town, the
land known as Hana-kahi.]
[Footnote 163: *Hana-kahi*. Look at note *f*, p. 60.]
[Footnote 164: *Mauna-ole*. According to one authority this
should be Mauna-Hilo. Verses 13, 14, 16, and 17 are difficult
of translation. The play on the words *ku a*, standing at, or
standing by, and *kua*, the back; also on the word *kowa*, a
gulf or strait; and the repetition of the word *mauna*,
mountain—all this is carried to such an extent as to be
quite unintelligible to the Anglo-Saxon mind, though full of
significance to a Hawaiian.]
[Footnote 165: *A’e*. A strong wind that prevails in Ka-u. The
same word also means to step on, to climb. This
double-meaning gives the poet opportunity for a euphuistic
word-play that was much enjoyed by the Hawaiians. The
Hawaiians of the present day are not quite up to this sort of
logomachy.]
[Footnote 166: *Kaili-ki’i*. The promontory that shelters the
cove *Ka-hewa-hewa*.]
[Footnote 167: *Ka-hea-hea*. The name of the cove
*Ka-hewa-hewa*, above mentioned, is here given in a softened
form obtained by the elision of the letter *w*.]
[Footnote 168: *Hilo*, or Whiro, as in the Maori, was a great
navigator.]
[Translation.]
CANTO II
Heaven-magic, fetch a Hilo-pour from heaven!
Morn’s cloud-buds, look! they swell in the East.
The rain-cloud parts, Hilo is deluged with rain,
The Hilo of King Hana-kahi.
5 Surf breaks, stirs the mire of Pii-lani; 5
The bones of Hilo are broken
By the blows of the rain.
Ghostly the rain-scud of Hilo in heaven;
The cloud-forms of Pua-lani grow and thicken.
10 The rain-priest bestirs him now to go forth,
Forth to observe the stab and thrust of the rain,
The rain that clings to the roof of Hilo.
Hilo, like Puna, stands mountainless;
Aye, mountain-free stand Hilo and Puna.
15 Puna ’s a gulf ’twixt Ka-ú and Hilo;
Just leaning her back on Mount Nothing,
She sleeps at the feet of Mount Loa.
A mountain-back is Ka-ú which the wind strikes,
Ka-ú, a land much scourged by the A’e.
20 A dust-cloud lifts in Ka-ú as one climbs.
A dust-bloom floats, the lift of the wind:
’Tis blasts from mountain-walls piles dust, the A’e.
Ka-ú was always tormented with wind.
Cape-of-the-Dog feels Unulau’s blasts;
25 They turmoil the cove of Ka-hea-hea,
Defying all strength with their violence.
There’s a storm when wind blows at Kau-ná.
Just look at the tempest there raging!
Hono-malino sleeps sheltered by Kona.
30 A eulogy this of a name.
“What name?” was asked of the old Hawaiian.
“A god,” said he.
“How is that? A mele-inoa celebrates the name and glory of a
king, not of a god.”
[Page 67]
His answer was, “The gods composed the mele; men did not
compose it.”
Like an old-time geologist, he solved the puzzle of a novel
phenomenon by ascribing it to God.
MAHELE III
(Ai-ha’a)
A Koa’e-kea,[169] i Pueo-hulu-nui,[169]
Neeu a’e la ka makahiapo o ka pali;
A a’e, a a’e, a’e[170] la iluna
Kaholo-kua-iwa, ka pali o Ha’i.[171]
5 Ha’i a’e la ka pali;
Ha-nu’u ka pali;
Hala e Malu-ó;
Hala a’e la Ka-maha-la’a-wili,
Ke kaupoku hale a ka ua.
10 Me he mea i uwae’na a’e la ka pali;
Me he hale pi’o ka lei na ka manawa o ka pali Halehale-o-ú;
Me he aho i hilo ’a la ka wai o Wai-hi-lau;
Me he uahi pulehu-manu la ke kai o ka auwala hula ana.
Au ana Maka’u-kiu[172] iloko o ke kai;
15 Pohaku lele[173] o Lau-nui, Lau-pahoehoe.
Ka eku’na a ke kai i ka ala o Ka-wai-kapu—
Eku ana, me he pua’a la, ka lae Makani-lele,
Koho-lá-lele.
[Translation.]
CANTO III
(Bombastic style)
Haunt of white tropic-bird and big ruffled owl,
Up rises the firstborn child of the pali.
He climbs, he climbs, he climbs up aloft,
Kaholo-ku’-iwa, the pali of Ha’i.
5 Accomplished now is the steep,
The ladder-like series of steps.
Malu-ó is left far below.
[Page 68] Passed is Ka-maha-la’-wili, The very ridge-pole of the rain— 10 It’s as if the peak cut it in twain— An arched roof the peak’s crest Hale-hale-o-ú. A twisted cord hangs the brook Wai-hilau; Like smoke from roasting bird Ocean’s wild dance; The shark-god is swimming the sea; 15 The rocks leap down at Big-leaf[174] and Flat-leaf—[174] See the ocean charge ’gainst the cliffs, Thrust snout like rooting boar against Windy-cape, Against Koholá-lele.
[Footnote 169: *Koa’e-kea, Pueo hulu-nui*. Steep declivities,
*pali*, on the side of Waipio valley, Hawaii. Instead of
inserting these names, which would be meaningless without an
explanation, the author has given a literal translation of
the names themselves, thus getting a closer insight into the
Hawaiian thought.]
[Footnote 170: *A’e*. The precipices rise one above another
like the steps of a stairway, climbing, climbing up, though
the probable intent of the poet is to represent some one as
climbing the ascent.]
[Footnote 171: *Ha’i*. Short for *Ha’ina-kolo;* a woman about
whom there is a story of tragic adventure. Through eating
when famished of some berries in an unceremonious way she
became distraught and wandered about for many months until
discovered by the persistent efforts of her husband. The pali
which she climbed was named after her.]
[Footnote 172: *Maka’u-kiu*. The name of a famous huge shark
that was regarded with reverential fear.]
[Footnote 173: *Pohaku lele*. In order to determine whether a
shark was present, it was the custom, before going into the
clear water of some of these coves, to throw rocks into the
water in order to disturb the monster and make his presence
known.]
[Footnote 174: *Big-leaf*. A literal translation of *Lau-nui*.
*Laupahoehoe*, Flat-leaf.]
MAHELE IV
Hole[175] Waimea i ka ihe a ka makani,
Hao mai na ale a ke Ki-pu’u-pu’u;[176]
He laau kala-ihi ia na ke anu,
I o’o i ka nahele o Mahiki.[177]
5 Ku aku la oe i ka Malanai[178] a ke Ki-puu-puu;
Nolu ka maka o ka oha-wai[179] o Uli;
Niniau, eha ka pua o Koaie,[180]
Eha i ke anu ka nahele o Wai-ka-é,
A he aloha, e!
10 Aloha Wai-ká, ia’u me he ipo la;
Me he ipo la ka maka lena o ke Koo-lau,[181]
Ka pua i ka nahele o Mahule-i-a,
E lei hele i ke alo o Moo-lau.[182]
E lau ka huaka’i-hele i ka pali loa;
15 Hele hihiu, puli[183] noho i ka nahele.
O ku’u noho wale iho no i kahua, e-e.
A he aloha, e-e!
O kou aloha ka i hiki mai i o’u nei.
Mahea la ia i nalo iho nei?
This mele, *Hole Waimea*, is also sung in connection with the
hula *ipu*.
[Footnote 175: *Hole*. To rasp, to handle rudely, to caress
passionately. Waimea is a district and village on Hawaii.]
[Footnote 176: *Kipu’u-pu’u*. A cold wind from Mauna-Kea that
blows at Waimea.]
[Footnote 177: *Mahiki*. A woodland in Waimea, in mythological
times haunted by demons and spooks.]
[Footnote 178: *Mala-nai*. The poetical name of a wind,
probably the trade wind; a name much used in Hawaiian
sentimental poetry.]
[Footnote 179: *Oha-wai*. A water hole that is filled by
dripping; an important source of supply for drinking purposes
in certain parts of Hawaii.]
[Footnote 180: *Pua o Koaie*, The koaie is a tree that grows in
the wilds, the blossom of which is extremely fragrant. (Not
the same as that subspecies of the *koa* (Acacia koa) which
Hillebrand describes and wrongly spells *koaia*. Here a
euphemism for the delicate parts.)]
[Footnote 181: *Koolau*, or, full form, *Ko-kao-lau*. Described
by Doctor Hillebrand as *Kokolau*, a wrong spelling. It has a
pretty yellow flower, a yellow eye—*maka lena*—as the song
has it. Here used tropically. (This is the plant whose leaf
is sometimes used as a substitute for tea.)]
[Footnote 182: *Moolau*. An expression used figuratively to
mean a woman, more especially her breasts. The term
*Huli-lau*, is also used, in a slang way, to signify the
breasts of a woman, the primitive meaning being a calabash.]
[Footnote 183: *Pili*. To touch; touched. This was the word
used in the forfeit-paying love game, *kilu*, when the player
made a point by hitting the target of his opponent with his
*kilu*. (For further description see p. 235.)]
[Page 69] The song above given, the translation of which is to follow, belongs to historic times, being ascribed to King Liholiho—Kamehameha II—who died in London July 13, 1824, on his visit to England. It attained great vogue and still holds its popularity with the Hawaiians. The reader will note the comparative effeminacy and sentimentality of the style and the frequent use of euphemisms and double-entendre. The double meaning in a Hawaiian mele will not always be evident to one whose acquaintance with the language is not intimate. To one who comes to it from excursions in Anglo-Saxon poetry, wandering through its “meadows trim with daisies pied,” the sly intent of the Hawaiian, even when pointed out, will, no doubt, seem an inconsequential thing and the demonstration of it an impertinence, if not a fiction to the imagination. Its euphemisms in reality have no baser intent than the euphuisms of Lyly, Ben Jonson, or Shakespeare.
[Translation.]
*Song—Hole Waimea*
Love tousled Waimea with shafts of the wind,
While Kipuupuu puffed jealous gusts.
Love is a tree that blights in the cold,
But thrives in the woods of Mahiki.
5 Smitten art thou with the blows of love;
Luscious the water-drip in the wilds;
Wearied and bruised is the flower of Koaie;
Stung by the frost the herbage of Wai-ka-é:
And this—it is love.
10 Wai-ká loves me like a sweetheart.
Dear as my heart Koolau’s yellow eye,
My flower in the tangled wood, Hule-í-a,
A travel-wreath to lay on love’s breast,
A shade to cover my journey’s long climb.
15 Love-touched, distraught, mine a wilderness-home;
But still do I cherish the old spot,
For love—it is love.
Your love visits me even here:
Where has it been hiding till now?
PAUKU 2
Kau ka ha-é-a, kau o ka hana wa ele,
Ke ala-ula ka makani,
Kulu a e ka ua i kou wahi moe.
Palepale i na auwai o lalo;
5 Eli mawaho o ka hale o Koolau, e.
E lau Koolau, he aina ko’e-ko’e;
Maka’u i ke anu ka uka o ka Lahuloa.
Loa ia mea, na’u i waiho aku ai.
[Page 70]
[Translation.]
STANZA 2
A mackerel sky, time for foul weather;
The wind raises the dust—
Thy couch is a-drip with the rain;
Open the door, let’s trench about the house:
5 Koolau, land of rain, will shoot green leaves.
I dread the cold of the uplands.
An adventure that of long ago.
The poem above given from beginning to end is figurative, a
piece of far-fetched, enigmatical symbolism in the lower
plane of human nature.
PAUKU 3
Hoe Puna i ka wa’a po-lolo’[184] a ka ino;
Ha-uke-uke i ka wa o Koolau:
Eha e! eha la!
Eha i ku’i-ku’i o ka Ulu-mano.[185]
5 Hala ’e ka walu-ihe a ke A’e,[186]
Ku iho i ku’i-ku’i a ka Ho-li’o;[187]
Hana ne’e ke kikala o ko Hilo Kini.
Ho’i lu’u-lu’u i ke one o Hana-kahi,[188]
I ka po-lolo’ ua wahine o ka lua:
10 Mai ka lua no, e!
[Translation.]
STANZA 3
Puna plies paddle night-long in the storm;
Is set back by a shift in the weather,
Feels hurt and disgruntled;
Dismayed at slap after slap of the squalls;
5 Is struck with eight blows of Typhoon;
Then smit with the lash of the North wind.
Sad, he turns back to Hilo’s sand-beach:
He’ll shake the town with a scandal—
The night-long storm with the hag of the pit,
10 Hag from Gehenna!
[Footnote 184: *Po-lolo*. A secret word, like a cipher, made up
for the occasion and compounded of two words, *po*, night,
and *loloa*, long, the final *a*, of *loloa* being dropped.
This form of speech was called *kepakepa*, and was much used
by the Hawaiians in old times.]
[Footnote 185: *Ulu-mano*. A violent wind which blows by night
only on the western side of Hawaii. Kamehameha with a company
of men was once wrecked by this wind off Nawawa; a whole
village was burned to light them ashore. (Dictionary of the
Hawaiian Language, by Lorrin Andrews.)]
[Footnote 186: *Walu-ihe a ke A’e*. The *A’e* is a violent wind
that is described as blowing from different points of the
compass in succession; a circular storm. *Walu-ihe*—eight
spears—was a name applied to this same wind during a certain
portion of its circuitous range, covering at least eight
different points, as observed by the Hawaiians. It was well
fitted, therefore, to serve as a figure descriptive of eight
different lovers, who follow each other in quick succession,
in the favors of the same wanton.]
[Footnote 187: *Ho-li’o* The name of a wind, but of an entirely
different character from those above mentioned.]
[Footnote 188: *Hana-kahi*. (See note *f*, p. 60.)]
[Page 71]
This is not a line-for-line translation; that the author
found infeasible. Line 8 of the English represents line 7 of
the Hawaiian. Given more literally, it might be, “He’ll shake
the buttocks of Hilo’s forty thousand.”
The metaphor of this song is disjointed, but hot with the
primeval passions of humanity.
PAUKU 4
Ho-ina-inau mea ipo i ka nahele;
Haa-kokoe ana ka maka i ka Moani,
I ka ike i na pua i hoomahie ’Iuna;
Ua hi-hi-hina wale i ka moe awakea.
5 Ka ino’ ua poina ia Mali’o.
Aia ka i Pua-lei o Ha’o.
I Puna no ka waihona o ka makani;
Kaela ka malama ana a ka Pu’u-lena,
I kahi mea ho-aloha-loha, e!
10 E aloha, e!
[Translation.]
STANZA 4
Love is at play in the grove,
A jealous swain glares fierce
At the flowers tying love-knots,
Lying wilted at noon-tide.
5 So you’ve forgotten Mali’o,
Turned to the flower of Puna—
Puna, the cave of shifty winds.
Long have I cherished this blossom,
A treasure hid in my heart!
10 Oh, sweetheart!
The following account is taken from the Polynesian Researches
of the Rev. William Ellis, the well-known English missionary,
who visited these islands in the years 1822 and 1823, and
whose recorded observations have been of the highest value in
preserving a knowledge of the institutions of ancient Hawaii.
In the afternoon, a party of strolling musicians and dancers
arrived at Kairua. About four o’clock they came, followed by
crowds of people, and arranged themselves on a fine sandy
beach in front of one of the governor’s houses, where they
exhibited a native dance, called *hura araapapa*.
The five musicians first seated themselves in a line on the
ground, and spread a piece of folded cloth on the sand before
them. Their instrument was a large calabash, or rather two,
one of an oval shape about three feet high, the other
perfectly round, very neatly fastened to it, having also an
aperture about three inches in diameter at the top. Each
musician held his instrument before him with both hands, and
produced his music by striking it on the ground, where he had
laid a piece of cloth, and beating it with his fingers, or
the palms of his hands. As soon as they began to sound their
calabashes, the dancer, a young man about the middle stature,
advanced through the opening crowd.
[Page 72] His jet-black hair hung in loose and flowing ringlets on his naked shoulders; his necklace was made of a vast number of strings of nicely braided human hair, tied together behind, while a paraoa (an ornament made of a whale’s tooth) hung pendent from it on his breast; his wrists were ornamented with bracelets formed of polished tusks of the hog, and his ankles with loose buskins, thickly set with dog’s teeth, the rattle of which, during the dance, kept time with the music of the calabash drum. A beautiful yellow tapa was tastefully fastened round his loins, reaching to his knees. He began his dance in front of the musicians, and moved forward and backwards, across the area, occasionally chanting the achievements of former kings of Hawaii. The governor sat at the end of the ring, opposite to the musicians, and appeared gratified with the performance, which continued until the evening. (Vol. IV, 100–101, London, Fisher, Son & Jackson, 1831.)
NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.—At the time of Mr. Ellis’ visit to
Hawaii the orthography of the Hawaiian language was still in
a formative stage, and it is said that his counsels had
influence in shaping it. His use of *r* instead of *l* in the
words *hula, alaapapa*, and *palaoa* may, therefore, be
ascribed to the fact of his previous acquaintance with the
dialects of southern Polynesia, in which the sound of *r* to
a large extent substitutes that of *l*, and to the
probability that for that reason his ear was already attuned
to the prevailing southern fashion, and his judgment
prepossessed in that direction.
[Page 73]
X.—THE HULA PA-ÍPU, OR KUÓLO
The *pa-ípu*, called also the *kuólo*, was a hula of
dignified character, in which all the performers maintained
the kneeling position and accompanied their songs with the
solemn tones of the *ípu* (pl. vii), with which each one was
provided. The proper handling of this drumlike instrument in
concert with the cantillation of the mele made such demands
upon the artist, who was both singer and instrumentalist,
that only persons of the most approved skill and experience
were chosen to take part in the performance of this hula.
The manner of treating the ípu in this hula differed somewhat
from that employed in the ala’a-papa, being subdued and quiet
in that, whereas in the pa-ípu it was at times marked with
great vigor and demonstrativeness, so that in moments of
excitement and for the expression of passion, fierce joy, or
grief the ípu might be lifted on high and wildly brandished.
It thus made good its title as the most important instrument
of the Hawaiian orchestra.
In the pa-ípu, as in the hulas generally, while the actors
were sometimes grouped according to sex, they were quite as
often distributed indiscriminately, the place for the leader,
the kumu, being the center.
The vigor that marks the literary style of the mele now given
stamps it as belonging to the archaic period, which closed in
the early part of the eighteenth century, that century which
saw the white man make his advent in Hawaii. The poem deals
apparently with an incident in one of the migrations such as
took place during the period of intercourse between the North
and the South Pacific. This was a time of great stir and
contention, a time when there was much paddling and sailing
about and canoe-fleets, often manned by warriors, traversed
the great ocean in every direction. It was then that Hawaii
received many colonists from the archipelagoes that lie to
the southward.
*Mele*
(Ko’i-honua)
Wela Kahiki, e!
Wela Kahiki, e!
Wela aku la Kahiki;
Ua kaulu-wela ka moku;
[Page 74] 5 Wela ka ulu o Hawaii; Kakala wela aku la Kahiki ia Olopana,[189] Ka’u wahi kanaka; O ka hei kapu[190] o Hana-ka-ulani,[191] Ka hei kapu a ke alii, 10 Ka hoo-mamao-lani,[192] Ke kapu o Keawe,[193] A o Keawe Ke alii holo, ho-i’a i kai, e-e!
[Footnote 189: *Olopana*. A celebrated king of Waipio valley,
Hawaii, who had to wife the famous beauty, Luukia. Owing to
misfortune, he sailed away to *Kahiki*, taking with him his
wife and his younger brother, Moikeha, who was his
*puna-lua*, settling in a land called *Moa-ula-nui-akea*.
Olopana probably ended his days in his new-found home, but
Moi-keha, heart-sick at the loss of Luukia’s favors, came
back to Hawaii and became the progenitor of a line of
distinguished men, several of whom were famous navigators.
Exactly what incident in the life of Olopana is alluded to in
the sixth and preceding verses, the traditions that narrate
his adventures do not inform us.]
[Footnote 190: *Hei kapu*. An oracle; the place where the high
priest kept himself while consulting the deities of the
*heiau*. It was a small house erected on an elevated platform
of stones, and there he kept himself in seclusion at such
times as he sought to be the recipient of communications from
the gods.]
[Footnote 191: *Hana-ka-ulani*. A name applied to several
*heiau* (temples). The first one so styled, according to
tradition, was built at Hana, Maui, and another one at
Kaluanui, on Oahu, near the famous valley of Ka-liu-wa’a.
These heiau are said to have been built by the gods in the
misty past soon after landing on these shores. Was it to
celebrate their escape from perils by sea and enemies on
land, or was it in token of thankfulness to gods still higher
than themselves?
The author’s informant can not tell whether these followed
the fierce, strict cult of Kane or the milder cult of Lono.]
[Footnote 192: *Hoo-mamao-lani*. An epithet meaning remote in
the heavens, applied to an alii of very high rank.]
[Footnote 193: *Keawe*. This is a name that belonged, to
several kings and a large family of gods—*papa akua*—all of
which gods are said to have come from Kahiki and to have
dated their origin from the *Wa Po*, the twilight of
antiquity. Among the demigods that were called *Keawe* may be
mentioned: (1) *Keawe-huli*, a prophet and soothsayer. (2)
*Keawe-kilo-pono*, a wise and righteous one, who loved
justice. (3) *Keawe-hula-maemae*. It was his function to
maintain purity and cleanliness; he was a devouring flame
that destroyed rubbish and all foulness. (4)
*Keawe-ula-o-ka-lani*. This was the poetical appellation,
given to the delicate flush of early morning. Apropos of this
the Hawaiians have the following quatrain, which they
consider descriptive not only of morning blush, but also of
the coming in of the reign of the gods:
O Keawe-ula-i-ka-lani,
O Keawe-liko-i-ka-lani,
O Ke’awe-uina-pohá-i-Kahiki;
Hiki mai ana o Lono.[Translation.]
Keawe-the-red-blush-of-dawn,
Keawe-the-bud-in-the-sky,
Keawe-thunder-burst-at-Kahiki:
Till Lono comes in to reign.
(5) *Keawe-pa-makani*. It was his function to send winds from
*Kukulu-o-Kahiki*, as well as from some other points. (6)
*Keawe-ío-ío-moa*. This god inspected the ocean tides and
currents, such as *Au-miki* and *Au-ká*. (7)
*Keawe-i-ka-liko*. He took charge of flowerbuds and tender
shoots, giving them a chance to develop. (8) *Keawe-ulu-pu*.
It was his function to promote the development and fruitage
of plants. (9) *Keawe-lu-pua*. He caused flowers to shed
their petals. (10) *Keawe-opala*. It was his thankless task
to create rubbish and litter by scattering the leaves of the
trees. (11) *Keawe-hulu*, a magician, who could blow a
feather into the air and see it at once become a bird with
power to fly away. (12) *Keawe-nui-ka-ua-o-Hilo*, a sentinel
who stood guard by night and by day to watch over all
creation. (13) *Keawe-pulehu*. He was a thief and served as
[Page 75] cook for the gods. There were gods of evil as well as of good in this set. (14) Keawe-oili. He was gifted with the power to convey and transfer evil, sickness, misfortune, and death. (15) Keawe-kaili. He was a robber. (16) Keawe-aihue. He was a thief. (17) Keawe-makilo. He was a beggar. He would stand round while others were preparing food, doing honest work, and plead with his eyes. In this way he often obtained a dole. (18) Keawe-puni-pua’a. He was a glutton, very greedy of pork; he was also called Keawe-ai-pua’a. (19) Keawe-inoino. He was a sloven, unclean in all his ways. (20) Keawe-ilio. The only title to renown of this superhuman creature was his inordinate fondness for the flesh of the dog. So far none of the superhuman beings mentioned seemed fitted to the role of the Keawe of the text, who was passionately fond of the sea. The author had given up in despair, when one day, on repeating his inquiry in another quarter, he was rewarded by learning of—(21) Keawe-i-na-kai. He was a resident of the region about the southeastern point of Molokai, called Lae-ka-Ilio—Cape of the Dog. He was extravagantly fond of the ocean and allowed no weather to interfere with the indulgence of his penchant. An epithet applied to him describes his dominating passion: Keawe moe i ke kai o Kohakú, Keawe who sleeps in (or on) the sea of Kohakú. It seems probable that this was the Keawe mentioned in the twelfth and thirteenth lines of the mele.
The appellation *Keawe* seems to have served as a sort of
Jack among the demigods of the Hawaiian pantheon, on whom was
to be laid the burden of a mongrel host of virtues and vices
that were not assignable to the regular orthodox deities.
Somewhat in the same way do we use the name Jack as a
caption, for a miscellaneous lot of functions, as when we
speak of a “Jack-at-all-trades.”]
[Translation.]
Song
(Distinct utterance)
Glowing is Kahiki, oh!
Glowing is Kahiki!
Lo, Kahiki is a-blaze,
The whole island a-burning.
5 Scorched is thy scion, Hawaii.
Kahiki shoots flame-tongues at Olopana,
That hero of yours, and priest
Of the oracle Hana-ka-ulani,
The sacred shrine of the king—
10 He is of the upper heavens,
The one inspired by Keawe,
That tabu-famous Keawe,
The king passion-fond of the sea.
*Mele*
PALE I
Lau lehua punoni ula ke kai o Kona,
Ke kai punoni ula i oweo ia;
Wewena ula ke kai la, he kokona;
Ula ia kini i ka uka o Alaea,
5 I hili ahi ula i ke kapa a ka wahine,
I hoeu ia e ka ni’a, e ka hana,
E ka auwai lino mai la a kehau.
He hau hoomoe ka lau o ka niu,
Ke oho o ka laau, lauoho loloa.
10 E lóha ana i ka la i o Kailua la, i-u-a,
O ke ku moena ololi a ehu
O ku’u aina kai paeaea.
Ea, hoea iluna o Mauna Kilohana,
Na kaha poohiwi mau no he inoa.
15 Ua noa e, ua pii’a kou wahi kapu, e-e!
I a’e ’a mai e ha’i.
[Page 76]
[Translation.]
*Song*
CANTO I
Leaf of lehua and noni-tint, the Kona sea,
Iridescent saffron and red,
Changeable watered red, peculiar to Kona;
Red are the uplands Alaea;
5 All, ’tis the flame-red stained robes of women
Much tossed by caress or desire.
The weed-tangled water-way shines like a rope of pearls,
Dew-pearls that droop the coco leaf,
The hair of the trees, their long locks—
10 Lo, they wilt in the heat of Kailua the deep.
A mat spread out narrow and gray,
A coigne of land by the sea where the fisher drops hook.
Now looms the mount Kilohana—
Ah, ye wood-shaded heights, everlasting your fame!
15 Your tabu is gone! your holy of holies invaded!
Broke down by a stranger!
The intricately twisted language of this mele is allegorical,
a rope whose strands are inwrought with passion, envy,
detraction, and abuse. In translating it one has to choose
between the poetic verbal garb and the esoteric meaning which
the bard made to lurk beneath the surface.
*Mele*
PALE II
Kauó pu ka iwa kala-pahe’e,
Ka iwa, ka manu o Kaula i ka makani.
E ka manu o-ú pani-wai o Lehua,
O na manu kapu a Kuhai-moana,
5 Mai hele a luna o Lei-no-ai,
O kolohe, o alai mai ka Unu-lau.
Puni’a iluna o ka Halau-a-ola;
A ola aku i ka luna o Maka-iki-olea,
I ka lulu, i ka la’i o kai maio,
10 Ma ka ha’i-wá, i ka mole o Lehua la, Le-hú-a!
O na lehua o Alaka’i ka’u aloha,
O na lehua iluna o Ko’i-alana;
Ua nonoho hooipo me ke kohe-kohe;
Ua anu, maeele i ka ua noe.
15 Ua mai oe; kau a’e ka naná, laua nei, e-e,
Na ’lii e o’oni mai nei, e-e!
[Translation.]
*Song*
CANTO II
The iwa flies heavy to nest in the brush,
Its haunt on windy Ke-ula.
The watch-bird, that fends off the rain from Le-hu-a—
[Page 77] Bird sacred to Ku-hai, the shark-god— 5 Shrieks, “Light not on terrace of Lei-no-ai, Lest Unu-lau fiercely assail you.” Storm sweeps the cliffs of the islet; A covert they seek neath the hills, In the sheltered lee of the gale, 10 The cove at the base of Le-hu-a. The shady groves there enchant them, The scarlet plumes of lehua. Love-dalliance now by the water-reeds, Till cooled and appeased by the rain-mist. 15 Pour on, thou rain, the two heads press the pillow: Lo, prince and princess stir in their sleep!
The scene of this mele is laid on one of the little
bird-islands that lie to the northwest of Kauai. The *iwa*
bird, flying heavily to his nesting place in the wiry grass
(*kala-pahee*), symbolizes the flight of a man in his
deep-laden pirogue, abducting the woman of his love. The
screaming sea-birds that warn him off the island, represented
as watch-guards of the shark-god Kuhai-moana (whose reef is
still pointed out), figure the outcries of the parents and
friends of the abducted woman.
After the first passionate outburst (_Puni’a iluna o ka
Halau-a-ola_) things go more smoothly (ola, ...). The
flight to covert from the storm, the cove at the base of
Le-hu-a, the shady groves, the scarlet pompons of the
lehua—the tree and the island have the same name—all these
things are to be interpreted figuratively as emblems of
woman’s physical charms and the delights of love-dalliance.
*Mele*
PALE III
(Ai-ha’a)
Ku aku la Kea-aú, lele ka makani mawaho,
Ulu-mano, ma ke kaha o Wai-o-lono.
Ua moani lehua a’e la mauka;
Kani lehua iluna o Kupa-koili,
5 I ka o ia i ka lau o ka hala,
Ke poo o ka hala o ke aku’i.
E ku’i e, e ka uwalo.
Loli ka mu’o o ka hala,
A helelei ka pua, a pili ke alanui:
10 Pu ia Pana-ewa, ona-ona i ke ala,
I ka nahele makai o Ka-unu-loa la.
Nani ke kaunu, ke kaunu a ke alii,
He puni ina’i poi na maua.
Ua hala ke Kau a me ka Hoilo,
15 Mailaila mai no ka hana ino.
Ino mai oe, noho malie aku no hoi au;
Hopo o’ ka inaina, ka wai, e-e;
Wiwo au, hopohopo iho nei, e-e!
[Page 78]
[Translation.]
*Song*
CANTO III
(In turgid style)
A storm, from the sea strikes Ke-au,
Ulu-mano, sweeping across the barrens;
It sniffs the fragrance of upland lehua,
Turns back at Kupa-koili;
5 Sawed by the blows of the palm leaves,
The groves of pandanus in lava shag;
Their fruit he would string ’bout his neck;
Their fruit he finds wilted and crushed,
Mere rubbish to litter the road—
10 Ah, the perfume! Pana-ewa is drunk with the scent;
The breath of it spreads through the groves.
Vainly flares the old king’s passion,
Craving a sauce for his meat and mine.
The summer has flown; winter has come:
15 Ah, that is the head of our troubles.
Palsied are you and helpless am I;
You shrink from a plunge in the water;
Alas, poor me! I’m a coward.
The imagery of this mele sets forth the story of the fierce,
but fruitless, love-search of a chief, who is figured by the
*Ulu-mano*, a boisterous wind of Puna, Hawaii. The fragrance
of upland lehua (*moani lehua, a’e la mauka*, verse 3)
typifies the charms of the woman he pursues. The expression
*kani lehua* (verse 4), literally the sudden ending of a
rain-squall, signifies the man’s failure to gain his object.
The lover seeks to string the golden drupe of the pandanus
(*halo*), that he may wear them as a wreath about his neck
(*uwalo*); he is wounded by the teeth of the sword-leaves (_o
ia i ka lau o ka hala_, verse 5). More than this, he meets
powerful, concerted resistance (_ke poo o ka hala o ke
aku’i_, verse 6), offered by the compact groves of pandanus
that grow in the rough lava-shag (*aku’i*), typifying, no
doubt, the resistance made by the friends and retainers of
the woman. After all, he finds, or declares that he finds,
the hala fruit he had sought to gather and to wear as a *lei*
about his neck, to be spoiled, broken, fit only to litter the
road (*loli ka mu’o o ka hala*, verse 8; _A helelei ka’pua, a
pili ke alanui_, verse 9). In spite of his repulse and his
vilification of the woman, his passion, still feeds on the
thought of the one he has lost; her charms intoxicate his
imagination, even as the perfume of the hala bloom bewitches
the air of Pana-ewa (*Pu ia Panaewa, ona-ona i ke ala*, verse
10).
It is difficult to interpret verses 12 to 18 in harmony with
the story as above given. They may be regarded as a
[Page 79] commentary on the passionate episode in the life of the lover, looked at from the standpoint of old age, at a time when passion still survives but physical strength is in abeyance.
As the sugar-boiler can not extract from the stalk the last
grain of sugar, so the author finds it impossible in any
translation to express the full intent of these Hawaiian
mele.
*Mele*
PALE IV
Aole au e hele ka li’u-lá o Maná,
Ia wai oupe-kanaka[194] o Lima-loa;[195]
A e hoopunipuni ia a’e nei ka malihini;
A mai puni au: lie wai oupe na.
5 He ala-pahi ka li’u-lá o Maná;
Ke poloai[196] la i ke Koolau-wahine.[197]
Ua ulu mai ka hoaloha i Wailua,
A ua kino-lau[198] Kawelo[199] mahamaha-i’a’[200]
[Page 80] A ua aona[201] mai nei lio oiwi e. 10 He mea e wale au e noho aku nei la. Noho. O ka noho kau a ka mea waiwai; O kau ka i’a a haawi ia mai. Oli-oli au ke loaa ia oe. 15 A pela ke ahi o Ka-maile,[202] He alualu hewa a’e la ka malihini, Kukuni hewa i ka ili a kau ka uli, e; Kau ka uli a ka mea aloha, e.
[Footnote 194: *Wai oupe-kanaka*. Man-fooling water; the
mirage.]
[Footnote 195: *Lima-loa*. The long-armed, the god of the
mirage, who made his appearance at Maná, Kauai.]
[Footnote 196: *Poloai*. To converse with, to have dealings
with one.]
[Footnote 197: *Koolau-wahine*. The sea-breeze at Mana. There
is truth as well as poetry in the assertion made in this
verse. The warm moist air, rising from the heated sands of
Maná, did undoubtedly draw in the cool breeze from the
ocean—a fruitful dalliance.]
[Footnote 198: *Kino-lau*. Having many (400) bodies, or
metamorphoses, said of Kawelo.]
[Footnote 199: *Kawelo*. A sorcerer who lived in the region of
Maná. His favorite metamorphosis was into the form of a
shark. Even when in human form he retained the gills of a
fish and had the mouth of a shark at the back of his
shoulders, while to the lower part of his body were attached
the tail and flukes of a shark. To conceal these monstrous
appendages he wore over his shoulders a *kihei* of kapa and
allowed himself to be seen only while in the sitting posture.
He sometimes took the form of a worm, a moth, a caterpillar,
or a butterfly to escape the hands of his enemies. On land he
generally appeared as a man squatting, after the manner of a
Hawaiian gardener while weeding his garden plot.
The cultivated lands of Kawelo lay alongside the
much-traveled path to the beach where the people of the
neighborhood resorted to bathe, to fish, and to swim in the
ocean. He made a practice of saluting the passers-by and of
asking them, “Whither are you going?” adding the caution,
“Look to it that you are not swallowed head and tail by the
shark; he has not breakfasted yet” (_E akahele oukou o pau
po’o, pau hi’u i ka manó; aohe i paina i kakahiaka o ka
manó_). As soon as the traveler had gone on his way to the
ocean, Kawelo hastened to the sea and there assumed his
shark-form. The tender flesh of children was his favorite
food. The frequent utterance of the same caution, joined to
the great mortality among the children and youth who resorted
to the ocean at this place, caused a panic among the
residents. The parents consulted a soothsayer, who surprised
them with the information that the guilty one was none other
than the innocent-looking farmer, Kawelo. Instructed by the
soothsayer, the people made an immense net of great strength
and having very fine meshes. This they spread in the ocean at
the bathing place. Kawelo, when caught in the net, struggled
fiendishly to break away, but in vain. According to
directions, they flung the body of the monster into an
enormous oven which they had heated to redness, and supplied
with fresh fuel for five times ten days—*elima anahulu*. At
the end of that time there remained only gray ashes. The
prophet had commanded them that when this had been
accomplished they must fill the pit of the oven with dry
dirt; thus doing, the monster would never come to life. They
neglected this precaution. A heavy rain flooded the
country—the superhuman work of the sorcerer—and from the
moistened ashes sprang into being a swarm of lesser sharks.
From them have come the many species of shark that now infest
our ocean.
The house which once was Kawelo’s ocean residence is still
pointed out, 7 fathoms deep, a structure regularly built of
rocks.]
[Footnote 200: *Maha-maha i’a*. The gills or fins of a fish
such as marked Kawelo.]
[Footnote 201: *Aona*. A word of doubtful meaning; according
to one it means lucky. That expounder (T—— P——) says it
should, or-might be, *haona*; he instances the phrase _iwi
paoa*, in which the word *paoa_ has a similar, but not
identical, form and means lucky bone.]
[Footnote 202: *Ka-maile*. A place on Kauai where prevailed the
custom of throwing firebrands down the lofty precipice of
Nuololo. This amusement made a fine display at night. As the
fire-sticks fell they swayed and drifted in the breeze,
making it difficult for one standing below to premise their
course through the air and to catch one of them before it
struck the ground or the water, that being one of the objects
of the sport. When a visitor had accomplished this feat, he
would sometimes mark his flesh with the burning stick that he
might show the brand to his sweetheart as a token of his
fidelity.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
CANTO IV
I will not chase the mirage of Maná,
That man-fooling mist of god Lima-loa,
Which still deceives the stranger—
And came nigh fooling me—the tricksy water!
5 The mirage of Maná, is a fraud; it
Wantons with the witch Koolau.
A friend has turned up at Wailua,
Changeful Kawelo, with gills like a fish,
Has power to bring luck in any queer shape.
10 As a stranger now am I living,
Aye, living.
You flaunt like a person of wealth,
Yours the fish, till it comes to my hook.
I am blest at receiving from you:
15 Like fire-sticks flung at Ka-maile—
The visitor vainly chases the brand:
Fool! he burns his flesh to gain, the red mark,
A sign for the girl he loves, oho!
*Mele*
PALE V
(Ai-ha’a, a he Ko’i-honua paha)
Kauhua Ku, ka Lani, i-loli ka moku;
Hookohi ke kua-koko o ka Lani;
He kua-koko, pu-koko i ka honua;
He kua-koko kapu no ka Lani;
[Page 81] 5 He ko’i ula ana a maku’i i ka ala, Hoomau ku-wá mahu ia, Ka maka o ke ahi alii e a nei. Ko mai ke keiki koko a ka Lani, Ke keiki he nuuhiwa ia Hitu-kolo, 10 O ke keiki hiapo anuenue, iloko o ka manawa, O hi ka wai nui o ka nuuhiwa a Ke-opu-o-lani, O ua alii lani alewa-lewa nei, E u-lele, e ku nei ma ka lani; O ka Lani o na mu’o-lau o Liliha, 15 Ka hakina, ka pu’e, ka maka, o Kuhi-hewa a Lola— Kalola, nana ke keiki laha-laha; Ua kela, he kela ka pakela O na pahi’a loa o ka pu likoliko i ka lani O kakoo hulu manu o o-ulu, 20 O ka hulu o-ku’i lele i ka lani, O hiapo o ka manu leina a Pokahi, O Ka-lani-opu’u hou o ka moku, O na kupuna koikoi o Keoua, o ka Lani Kui-apo-iwa.
[Translation.]
*Song*
CANTO V
(To be recited in bombastic style, or, it may be, distinctly)
Big with child is the Princess Ku;
The whole island suffers her whimsies;
The pangs of labor are on her;
Labor that stains the land with blood,
5 Blood-clots of the heavenly born,
To preserve and guard the royal line,
The spark of king-fire now glowing:
A child is he of heavenly stock,
Like the darling of Hitu-kolo,
10 First womb-fruit born to love’s rainbow.
A bath for this child of heaven’s breast,
This mystical royal offspring,
Who ranks with the heavenly peers,
This tender bud of Liliha,
15 This atom, this parcel, this flame,
In the line Kuhi-hewa of Lola—
Ka-lola, who mothered a babe prodigious,
For glory and splendor renowned,
A scion most comely from heaven,
20 The finest down of the new-grown plume,
From bird whose moult floats to heaven,
Prime of the soaring birds of Pokahi,
The prince, heaven-flower of the island,
Ancestral sire of Ke-oua,
25 And of King Kui-apo-iwa.
[Page 82]
The heaping up of adulations, of which this mele is a capital
instance, was not peculiar to Hawaiian poetry. The Roman
Senate bestowed divinity on its emperors by vote; the
Hawaiian bard laureate, careering on his Pegasus, thought to
accomplish the same end by piling Ossa on Pelion with
high-flown phrases; and every loyal subject added his
contribution to the cairn that grew heavenward.
In Hawaii, as elsewhere, the times of royal debasement, of
aristocratic degeneracy, of doubtful or disrupted succession,
have always been the times of loudest poetic insistence on
birth-rank and the occasion for the most frenzied utterance
of high-sounding titles. This is a disease that has grown
with the decay of monarchy.
Applying this criterion to the mele above given, it may be
judged to be by no means a product wholly of the archaic
period. While certain parts, say from the first to the tenth
verses, inclusive, bear the mark of antiquity, the other
parts do not ring clear. It seems as if some poet of
comparatively modern times had revamped an old mele to suit
his own ends. Of this last part two verses were so glaringly
an interpolation that they were expunged from the text.
The effort to translate into pure Anglo-Saxon this vehement
outpour of high-colored phrases has made heavy demands on the
vocabulary and has strained the idioms of our speech
well-nigh to the point of protest.
In lines 1, 2, 4, 8, 14, and 23 the word *Lani* means a
prince or princess, a high chief or king, a heavenly one. In
lines 12, 13, 18, and 20 the same word *lani* means the
heavens, a concept in the Hawaiian mind that had some
far-away approximation to the Olympus of classic Greece.
*Mele*
Ooe no paha ia, e ka lau o ke aloha,
Oia no paha ia ke kau mai nei ka hali’a.
Ke hali’a-li’a mai nei ka maka,
Manao hiki mai no paha au anei.
5 Hiki mai no la ia, na wai e uwe aku?
Ua pau kau la, kau ike iaia;
Ka manawa oi’ e ai ka manao iloko.
Ua luu iho nei au i ke kai nui;
Nui ka ukiuki, paio o ka naau.
10 Aohe kanaka eha ole i ke aloha.
A wahine e oe, kanaka e au;
He mau alualu ka ha’i e lawe.
Ike aku i ke kula i’a o Ka-wai-nui.
Nui ka opala ai o Moku-lana.
15 Lana ka limu pae hewa o Makau-wahine.
O ka wahine no oe, o ke kane no ia.
Hiki mai no la ia, na wai e uwe aku?
Hoi mai no la ia, a ia wai e uwe aku?
[Page 83]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Methinks it is you, leaf plucked from Love’s tree,
You mayhap, that stirs my affection.
There’s a tremulous glance of the eye,
The thought she might chance yet to come:
5 But who then would greet her with song?
Your day has flown, your vision of her—
A time this for gnawing the heart.
I’ve plunged just now in deep waters:
Oh the strife and vexation of soul!
10 No mortal goes scathless of love.
A wife thou estranged, I a husband estranged,
Mere husks to be cast to the swine.[203]
Look, the swarming of fish at the weir!
Their feeding grounds on the reef
15 Are waving with mosses abundant.
Thou art the woman, that one your man—
At her coming who’ll greet her with song?
Her returning, who shall console?
[Footnote 203: In the original, _He mau alualu ka ha’i e
lawe_, literally “Some skins for another to take.”]
This song almost explains itself. It is the soliloquy of a
lover estranged from his mistress. Imagination is alive in
eye and ear to everything that may bring tidings of her, even
of her unhoped-for return. Sometimes he speaks as if
addressing the woman who has gone from him, or he addresses
himself, or he personifies some one who speaks to him, as in
the sixth line: “Your day has flown, ...”
The memory of past vexation and anguish extorts the
philosophic remark, “No mortal goes scathless of love.” He
gives over the past, seeks consolation in a new
attachment—he dives, *lu’u*, into the great ocean, “deep
waters,” of love, at least in search of love. The old self
(selves), the old love, he declares to be only *alualu*,
empty husks.
He—it is evidently a man—sets forth the wealth of comfort,
opulence, that surrounds him in his new-found peace. The
which the enchanted tree *Maka-léi*[204] was carried long ago,
from which time its waters abounded in fish—fish are
naturally the symbol of the opulence that now bless his life.
But, in spite of the new-found peace and prosperity that
attend him, there is a lonely corner in his heart; the old
question echoes in its vacuum, “Who’ll greet her with song?
who shall console?”
[Footnote 204: *Maka-léi*. (See note *b*, p. 17.)]
[Page 84]
*Mele*
O Ewa, aina kai ula i ka lepo,
I ula i ka makani anu Moa’e,
Ka manu ula i ka lau ka ai,
I palahe’a ula i ke kai o Kuhi-á.
5 Mai kuhi mai oukou e, owau ke kalohe;
Aohe na’u, na lakou no a pau.
Aohe hewa kekahi keiki a ke kohe.
Ei’ a’e; oia no paha ia.
I lono oukou ia wai, e, ua moe?
10 Oia kini poai o lakou la paha?
Ike aku ia ka mau’u hina-hina—
He hina ko’u, he aka mai ko ia la.
I aka mai oe i kou la manawa le’a;
A manawa ino, nui mai ka nuku,
15 Hoomokapu, hoopale mai ka maka,
Hoolahui wale mai i a’u nei.
E, oia paha; ae, oia no paha ia.
[Translation.]
*Song*
Ewa’s lagoon is red with dirt—
Dust blown by the cool Moa’e,
A plumage red on the taro leaf,
An ocherous tint in the bay.
5 Say not in your heart that I am the culprit.
Not I, but they, are at fault.
No child of the womb is to blame.
There goes, likely he is the one.
Who was it blabbed of the bed defiled?
10 It must have been one of that band.
But look at the rank grass beat down—
For my part, I tripped, the other one smiled.
You smiled in your hour of pleasure;
But now, when crossed, how you scold!
15 Avoiding the house, averting the eyes—
You make of me a mere stranger.
Yes it’s probably so, he’s the one.
A poem this full of local color. The plot of the story, as it
may be interpreted, runs somewhat as follows: While the man
of the house, presumably, is away, it would seem—fishing,
perhaps, in the waters of Ewa’s “shamrock lagoon”—the
mistress sports with a lover. The culprit impudently defends
himself with chaff and dust-throwing. The hoodlums, one of
whom is himself the sinner, have been blabbing, says he.
[Page 85] His accuser points to the beaten down hina-hina grass as evidence against him. At this the brazen-faced culprit parries the stroke with a humorous euphemistic description, in which he plays on the word hina, to fall. Such verbal tilting in ancient Hawaii was practically a defense against a charge of moral obliquity as decisive and legitimate as was an appeal to arms in the times of chivalry. He euphemistically speaks of the beaten herbage as the result of his having tripped and fallen, at which, says he, the woman smiled, that is she fell in with his proposals. He gives himself away; but that doesn’t matter.
It requires some study to make out who is the speaker in the
tit-for-tat of the dialogue.
*Mele*
(Ai-ha’a)
He lua i ka Hikina,
Ua ena e Pele;
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
5 Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owan no, o Pele,
Nona i eli aku ka lua i Niihau a a.
10 He lua i Niihau, ua ena e Pele.
He haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
15 Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Kauai a a.
He lua i Kauai ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
20 Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
25 Nana i eli ka lua i Oahu a a.
He lua i Oahu, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
30 A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli ka lua i Molokai a a.
[Page 86] He lua i Molokai, ua ena e Pele. 35 Ke haoloolo e la ke ao, Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo; Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea. Ninau o Wakea, Owai nei akua e eli nei? 40 Owau no, o Pele, Nana i eli aku ka lua i Lanai a a.
He lua i Lanai, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
45 Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Maui a a.
50 He lua i Maui, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
55 Owai, nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Hu’ehu’e a a.
He lua i Hu’ehu’e, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
60 Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Eli-eli, kau mai!
[Translation.]
*Song*
(In turgid style)
A pit lies (far) to the East,
Pit het by the Fire-queen Pele.
Heaven’s dawn is lifted askew,
One edge tilts up, one down, in the sky;
5 The thud of the pick is heard in the ground.
The question is asked by Wakea,
What god’s this a-digging?
It is I, it is Pele,
Who dug Mihau deep down till it burned,
10 Dug fire-pit red-heated by Pele.
Night’s curtains are drawn to one side,
One lifts, one hangs in the tide.
Crunch of spade resounds in the earth.
Wakea ’gain urges the query,
15 What god plies the spade in the ground?
Quoth Pele, ’tis I:
[Page 87] I mined to the fire neath Kauai, On Kauai I dug deep a pit, A fire-well flame-fed by Pele.
20 The heavens are lifted aslant,
One border moves up and one down;
There’s a stroke of o-ó ’neath the ground.
Wakea, in earnest, would know,
What demon’s a-grubbing below?
25 I am the worker, says Pele:
Oahu I pierced to the quick,
A crater white-heated by Pele.
Now morn lights one edge of the sky;
The light streams up, the shadows fall down;
30 There’s a clatter of tools deep down.
Wakea, in passion, demands,
What god this who digs ’neath the ground?
It is dame Pele who answers;
Hers the toil to dig down to fire,
35 To dig Molokai and reach fire.
Now morning peeps from the sky
With one eye open, one shut.
Hark, ring of the drill ’neath the plain!
Wakea asks you to explain,
40 What imp is a-drilling below?
It is I, mutters Pele:
I drilled till flame shot forth on Lanai,
A pit candescent by Pele.
The morning looks forth aslant;
45 Heaven’s curtains roll up and roll down;
There’s a ring of o-ó ’neath the sod.
Who, asks Wakea, the god,
Who is this devil a-digging?
’Tis I, ’tis Pele, I who
50 Dug on Maui the pit to the fire:
Ah, the crater of Maui,
Red-glowing with Pele’s own fire!
Heaven’s painted one side by the dawn,
Her curtains half open, half drawn;
55 A rumbling is heard far below.
Wakea insists he will know
The name of the god that tremors the land.
’Tis I, grumbles Pele,
I have scooped out the pit Hu’e-hu’e,
60 A pit that reaches to fire,
A fire fresh kindled by Pele.
Now day climbs up to the East;
Morn folds the curtains of night;
The spade of sapper resounds ’neath the plain:
65 The goddess is at it again!
[Page 88] This mele comes to us stamped with the hall-mark of antiquity. It is a poem of mythology, but with what story it connects itself, the author knows not.
The translation here given makes no profession of absolute,
verbal literalness. One can not transfer a metaphor bodily,
head and horns, from one speech to another. The European had
to invent a new name for the boomerang or accept the name by
which the Australian called it. The Frenchman, struggling
with the English language, told a lady he was *gangrened*, he
meant he was *mortified*. The cry for literalism is the cry
for an impossibility; to put the chicken back into its shell,
to return to the bows and arrows of the stone age.
To make the application to the mele in question: the word
*ha-olo-olo*, for example, which is translated in several
different ways in the poem, is of such generic and
comprehensive meaning that one word fails to express its
meaning. It is, by the way, not a word to be found in any
dictionary. The author had to grope his way to its meaning by
following the trail of some Hawaiian pathfinder who, after
beating about the bush, finally had to acknowledge that the
path had become so much overgrown since he last went that way
that he could not find it.
The Arabs have a hundred or more words meaning
sword—different kinds of swords. To them our word sword is
very unspecific. Talk to an Arab of a sword—you may exhaust
the list of special forms that our poor vocabulary compasses,
straight sword, broadsword, saber, scimitar, yataghan,
rapier, and what not, and yet not hit the mark of his
definition.
*Mele*
Haku’i ka uahi o ka lua, pa i ka lani;
Ha’aha’a Hawaii, moku o Keawe i hanau ia.
Kiekie ke one o Maláma ia Lohiau,
I a’e ’a mai e ke alii o Kahiki,
5 Nana i hele kai uli, kai ele,
Kai popolo-hu’a a Kane,
Ka wa i po’i ai ke Kai-a-ka-hina-lii,
Kai nu’u, kai lewa.
Hoopua o Kane i ka la’i;
10 Pa uli-hiwa mai la ka uka o ke ahi a Laka,
Oia wahine kihene lehua o Hopoe,
Pu’e aku-o na hala,
Ka hala o Panaewa,
O Panaewa nui, moku lehua;
15 Ohia kupu ha-o’e-o’e;
Lehua ula, i wili ia e ke ahi.
A po, e!
Po Puna, po Hilo!
Po i ka uahi o ku’u aina.
20 Ola ia kini!
Ke a mai la ke ahi!
[Page 89]
[Translation.]
*Song*
A burst of smoke from the pit lifts to the skies;
Hawaii’s beneath, birth-land of Keawe;
Malama’s beach looms before Lohian,
Where landed the chief from Kahiki,
5 From a voyage on the blue sea, the dark sea,
The foam-mottled sea of Kane,
What time curled waves of the king-whelming flood.
The sea up-swells, invading the land—
Lo Kane, outstretched at his ease!
10 Smoke and flame o’ershadow the uplands,
Conflagration by Laka, the woman
Hopoe wreathed with flowers of lehua,
Stringing the pandanus fruit.
Screw-palms that clash in Pan’-ewa—
15 Pan’-ewa, whose groves of lehua
Are nourished by lava shag,
Lehua that bourgeons with flame.
Night, it is night
O’er Puna and Hilo!
20 Night from the smoke of my land!
For the people salvation!
But the land is on fire!
The Hawaiian who furnished the meles which, in their
translated forms, are designated as canto I, canto II, and so
on, spoke of them as *pále*, and, following his
nomenclature, the term has been retained, though more
intimate acquaintance with the meles and with the term has
shown that the nearest English synonym to correspond with
pale would be the word division. Still, perhaps with a
mistaken tenderness for the word, the author has retained the
caption Canto, as a sort of nodding recognition of the old
Hawaiian’s term—division of a poem. No idea is entertained
that the five *pále* above given were composed by the same
bard, or that they represent productions from the same
individual standpoint. They do, however, breathe a spirit
much in common; so that when the old Hawaiian insisted that
they are so far related to one another as to form a natural
series for recitation in the hula, being species of the same
genus, as it were, he was not far from the truth. The man’s
idea seemed to be that they were so closely related that,
like beads of harmonious colors and shapes, they might be
strung on the same thread without producing a dissonance.
Of these five poems, or *pále* (páh-lay), numbers I, II, and
IV were uttered in a natural tone of voice, termed *kawele*,
otherwise termed *ko’i-honua*. The purpose of this style of
recitation was to adapt the tone to the necessities of the
[Page 90] aged when their ears no longer heard distinctly. It would require an audiphone to illustrate perfectly the difference between this method of pronunciation and the ai-ha’a, which was employed in the recitation of cantos III and V. The ai-ha’a was given in a strained and guttural tone.
The poetical reciter and cantillator, whether in the halau or
in the king’s court, was wont to heighten the oratorical
effect of his recitation by certain crude devices, the most
marked of which was that of choking the voice down, as it
were, into the throat, and there letting it strain and growl
like a hungry lion. This was the ai-ha’a, whose organic
function was the expression of the underground passions of
the soul.
[Page 91]
XI.—THE HULA KI’I
I was not a little surprised when I learned that the ancient
hula repertory of the Hawaiians included a performance with
marionettes, *ki’i*, dressed up to represent human beings.
But before accepting the hula *ki’i* as a product indigenous
to Hawaii, I asked myself: Might not this be a performance in
imitation of the Punch-and-Judy show familiar to Europe and
America?
After careful study of the question no evidence was found,
other than what might be inferred from general resemblance,
for the theory of adoption from a European or American
origin. On the contrary, the words used as an accompaniment
to the play agree with report and tradition, and bear
convincing evidence in form, and matter to a Hawaiian
antiquity. That is not to say, however, that in the use of
marionettes the Hawaiians did not hark back to their
ancestral homes in the southern sea or to a remoter past in
Asia.
The six marionettes, *ki’i* (pls. VIII and IX), in the
writer’s possession were obtained from a distinguished
kumu-hula, who received them by inheritance, as it were, from
his brother. “He gave them to me,” said he, “with these
words,’ Take care of these things, and when the time comes,
after my death, that the king wants you to perform before
him, be ready to fulfill his desire.’”
It was in the reign of Kamehameha III that they came into the
hands of the elder brother, who was then and continued to be
the royal hula-master until his death. These ki’i have
therefore figured in performances that have been graced by
the presence of King Kauikeaouli (Kamehameha III) and his
queen, Kalama, and by his successors since then down to the
times of Kalakaua. At the so-called “jubilee,” the
anniversary of Kalakaua’s fiftieth birthday, these
marionettes were very much in evidence.
The make-up and style of these ki’i are so similar that a
description of one will serve for all six. This marionette
represents the figure of a man, and was named *Maka-kú* (pl.
IX). The head is carved out of some soft wood—either kukui
or wiliwili—which is covered, as to the hairy scalp, with a
dark woven fabric much like broadcloth. It is encircled at
the level of the forehead with a broad band of gilt braid, as
if to ape the style of a soldier. The median line from the
forehead over the vertex to the back-head is crested with the
*mahiole* ridge. This, taken in connection with the
[Page 92] encircling gilt band, gives to the head a warlike appearance, somewhat as if it were armed with the classical helmet, the Hawaiian name for which is mahi-ole. The crest of the ridge and its points of junction with the forehead and back-head are decorated with fillets of wool dyed of a reddish color, in apparent imitation of the mamo or o-ó, the birds whose feathers were used in decorating helmets, cloaks, and other regalia. The features are carved with some attempt at fidelity. The eyes are set with mother-of-pearl.
The figure is of about one-third life size, and was
originally draped, the author was told, in a loose robe,
*holokú* of tapa cloth of the sort known as *mahuna*, which
is quite thin. This piece of tapa is perforated at short
intervals with small holes, *kiko’i*. It is also stained with
the juice from the bark of the root of the kukui tree, which
imparts a color like that of copper, and makes the Hawaiians
class it as *pa’ikukui*. A portion of its former, its
original, apparel has been secured.
The image is now robed in a holokú of yellow cotton, beneath
which is an underskirt of striped silk in green and white.
The arms are loosely jointed to the body.
The performer in the hula, who stood behind a screen, by
insinuating his hands under the clothing of the marionette,
could impart to it such movements as were called for by the
action of the play, while at the same time he repeated the
words of his part, words supposed to be uttered by the
marionette.
The hula ki’i was, perhaps, the nearest approximation made by
the Hawaiians to a genuine dramatic performance. Its usual
instrument of musical accompaniment was the ipu, previously
described. This drumlike object was handled by that division
of the performers called the hoopa’a, who sat in full view of
the audience manipulating the ipu in a quiet, sentimental
manner, similar to that employed in the hula kuolo.
As a sample of the stories illustrated in a performance of
the hula ki’i the following may be adduced, the dramatis
personae of which are four:
1. *Maka-kú*: a famous warrior, a rude, strong-handed
braggart, as boastful as Ajax.
2. *Puapua-kea*, a small man, but brave and active.
3. *Maile-lau-lii* (Small-leafed-maile), a young woman, who
becomes the wife of Maka-ku.
4. *Maile-Pakaha*, the younger sister of Maile-lau-lii, who
becomes the wife of Puapua-kea.
Maka-kú, a rude and boastful son of Mars, at heart a bully,
if not a coward, is represented as ever aching for a fight,
in which his domineering spirit and rough-and-tumble ways for
a time gave him the advantage over abler, but more modest,
adversaries.
[Page 93]
Puapuakea, a man of genuine courage, hearing of the boastful
achievements of Maka-kú, seeks him out and challenges him.
At the first contest they fought with javelins, *ihe*, each
one taking his turn according to lot in casting his javelins
to the full tale of the prescribed number; after which the
other contestant did the same. Neither was victorious.
Next they fought with slings, each one having the right to
sling forty stones at the other. In this conflict also
neither one of them got the better of the other. The next
trial was with stone-throwing. The result was still the same.
Now it was for them to try the classical Hawaiian game of
*lua*. This was a strenuous form of contest that has many
features in common with the panathlion of the ancient
Hellenes, some points in common with boxing, and still more,
perhaps, partakes of the character of the grand art of
combat, wrestling. Since becoming acquainted with the fine
Japanese art of *jiu-jitsu*, the author recognizes certain
methods that were shared by them both. But to all of these it
added the wild privileges of choking, bone-breaking,
dislocating, eye-gouging, and the infliction of tortures and
grips unmentionable and disreputable. At first the conflict
was in suspense, victory favoring neither party; but as the
contest went on Puapuakea showed a slight superiority, and at
the finish he had bettered Maka-kú by three points, or
*ai*[205], as the Hawaiians uniquely term it.
[Footnote 205: *Ai*, literally a food, a course.]
The sisters, Maile-lau-lii and Maile-pakaha, who had been
interested spectators of the contest, conceived a passionate
liking for the two warriors and laid their plans in concert
to capture them for themselves. Fortunately their preferences
were not in conflict. Maile-lau-lii set her affections on
Maka-ku, while the younger sister devoted herself to
Pua-pua-kea.
The two men had previously allowed their fancies to range
abroad at pleasure; but from this time they centered their
hearts on these two Mailes and settled down to regular
married life.
Interest in the actual performance of the hula ki’i was
stimulated by a resort to byplay and buffoonery. One of the
marionettes, for instance, points to some one in the
audience; whereupon one of the *hoopaa* asks, “What do you
want?” The marionette persists in its pointing. At length the
interlocutor, as if divining the marionette’s wish, says:
“Ah, you want So-and-so.” At this the marionette nods assent,
and the hoopaa asks again, “Do you wish him to come to you?”
The marionette expresses its delight and approval by nods and
gestures, to the immense satisfaction of the audience, who
join in derisive laughter at the expense of the person held
up to ridicule.
Besides the marionettes already named among the characters
found in the different hula-plays of the hula ki’i, the
[Page 94] author has heard mention of the following marionettes: Ku, Kini-ki’i, Hoo-lehelehe-ki’i, Ki’i-ki’i*, and *Nihi-aumoe.
Nihi-aumoe was a man without the incumbrance of a wife, an
expert in the arts of intrigue and seduction. Nihi-aumoe is a
word of very suggestive meaning, to walk softly at midnight.
In Judge Andrews’s dictionary are found the following
pertinent Hawaiian verses apropos of the word *nihi*:
E hoopono ka hele i ka uka o Puna;
E *nihi* ka hele, mai hoolawehala,
Mai noho a ako i ka pua, o hewa,
O inaina ke Akua, paa ke alanui,
Aole ou ala e hiki aku ai.
[Translation.]
Look to your ways in upland Puna;
Walk softly, commit no offense;
Dally not, nor pluck the flower sin;
Lest God in anger bar the road,
And you find no way of escape.
The marionette Ki’i-ki’i was a strenuous little fellow, an
*ilamuku*, a marshal, or constable of the king. It was his
duty to carry out with unrelenting rigor the commands of the
alii, whether they bade him take possession of a taro patch,
set fire to a house, or to steal upon a man at dead of night
and dash out his brains while he slept.
Referring to the illustrations (pl. VIII), a judge of human
nature can almost read the character of the libertine
Nihi-aumoe written in his features—the flattened vertex,
indicative of lacking reverence and fear, the ruffian
strength of the broad face; and if one could observe the
reverse of the picture he would note the flattened back-head,
a feature that marks a large number of Hawaiian crania.
The songs that were cantillated to the hula ki’i express in
some degree the peculiar libertinism of this hula, which
differed from all others by many removes. They may be
characterized as gossipy, sarcastic, ironical,
scandal-mongering, dealing in satire, abuse, hitting right
and left at social and personal vices—a cheese of rank
flavor that is not to be partaken of too freely. It might be
compared to the vaudeville in opera or to the genre picture
in art.
*Mele*
E Wewehi, ke, ke!
Wewehi oiwi, ke, ke!
Punana[206] i ka luna, ke, ke!
Hoonoho kai-oa[207] ke, ke!
[Page 95] 5 Oluna ka wa’a[208], ke, ke! O kela wa’a, ke, ke! O keia wa’a, ke, ke! Ninau o Mawi[209], ke, ke! Nawai ka luau’i?[209] ke, ke! 10 Na Wewehi-loa[210], ke, ke! 10 Ua make Wewehi, ke, ke! Ua ku i ka ihe, ke, ke! Ma ka puka kahiko[211] ke, ke! Ka puka a Mawi, ke, ke!
15 Ka lepe, ka lepe, la! 15
Ka lepe, ua hina a uwe!
Ninau ka lepe, la!
Mana-mana lii-lii,
Mana-mana heheiao,
20 Ke kumu o ka lepe? 20
Ka lepe hiolo, e?
[Footnote 206: *Punana*. Literally a nest; here a raised couch
on the *pola*, which was a sheltered platform in the waist of
a double canoe, corresponding to our cabin, for the use of
chiefs and other people of distinction.]
[Footnote 207: *Kai-oa*. The paddle-men; here a euphemism.]
[Footnote 208: *Wa’a*. A euphemism for the human body.]
[Footnote 209: *Mawi*. The hero of Polynesian mythology, whose
name is usually spelled *Maui*, like the name of the island.
Departure from the usual orthography is made in order to
secure phonetic accuracy. The name of the hero is pronounced
*Máh-wee*, not *Mów-ee*, as is the island. Sir George Gray,
of New Zealand, following the usual orthography, has given a
very full and interesting account of him in his Polynesian
mythology.]
[Footnote 210: *Wewehi-loa*. Another name for *Wahie-loa*, who
is said to have been the grandfather of Wewehi. The word
*luau’i* in the previous verse, meaning real father, is an
archaic form. Another form is *kua-u’i*.]
[Footnote 211: *Puka kahiko*. A strange story from Hawaiian
mythology relates that originally the human anatomy was sadly
deficient in that the terminal gate of the *primæ viæ* was
closed. Mawi applied his common-sense surgery to the repair
of the defect and relieved the situation. _Ua olelo ia i
kinohi ua hana ia kanaka me ka hemahema no ka nele i ka hou
puka ole ia ka okole, a na Mawi i hoopau i keia pilikia
mamuli o kana hana akamai. Ua kapa ia keia puka ka puka
kahiko._]
[Translation.]
*Song*
O Wewehi, la, la!
Wewehi, peerless form, la, la!
Encouched on the pola, la, la!
Bossing the paddlers, la, la!
5 Men of the canoe, la, la! 5
Of that canoe, la, la!
Of this canoe, la, la!
Mawi inquires, la, la!
Who was her grand-sire? la, la!
10 ’Twas Wewehi-loa, la, la! 10
Wewehi is dead, la, la!
Wounded with spear, la, la!
The same old wound, la, la!
Wound made by Mawi, la, la!
[Page 96] 15 The flag, lo the flag! 15 The flag weeps at half-mast! The flag, indeed, asks— Many, many the flags, A scandal for number. 20 Why are they overturned? 20 Why their banners cast down?
The author has met with several variants to this mele, which
do not greatly change its character. In one of these variants
the following changes are to be noted:
Line 4. Pikaka[212] e ka luna, ke, ke!
Line 5. Ka luna o ka hale, ke, ke!
Line 8. Ka puka o ka hale, a ke, ke!
Line 9. E noho i anei, a ke, ke!
To attempt a translation of these lines which are
unadulterated slang:
Line 4. The roof is a-dry, la, la!
Line 5. The roof of the house, la, la!
Line 8. The door of the house, la, la!
Line 9. Turn in this way, la, la!
[Footnote 212: *Pikaka* (full form *pikakao*). Dried up,
juiceless.]
The one who supplied the above lines expressed inability to
understand their meaning, averring that they are “classical
Hawaiian,” meaning, doubtless, that they are archaic slang.
As to the ninth line, the practice of “sitting in the door”
seems to have been the fashion with such folk as far back as
the time of Solomon.
Let us picture this princess of Maui, this granddaughter of
Wahieloa, Wewehi, as a Helen, with all of Helen’s frailty, a
flirt-errant, luxurious in life, quickly deserting one lover
for the arms of another; yet withal of such humanity and
kindness of fascination that, at her death, or absence, all
things mourned her—not as Lycidas was mourned:
“With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
.............................................
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears,”
but in some rude pagan fashion; all of which is wrought out
and symbolized in the mele with such imagery as is native to
the mind of the savage.
The attentive reader will not need be told that, as in many
another piece out of Hawaii’s old-time legends, the path
through this song is beset with euphuistic stumbling blocks.
The purpose of language, says Talleyrand, is to conceal
thought. The veil in this case is quite gauzy.
The language of the following song for the marionette dance,
hula ki’i, as in the one previously given, is mostly of that
[Page 97] kind which the Hawaiians term olelo kapékepéke, or olelo huná, shifty talk, or secret talk. We might call it slang, though, it is not slang in the exact sense in which we use that word, applying it to the improvised counters of thought that gain currency in our daily speech until they find admission to the forum, the platform, and the dictionary. It is rather a cipher-speech, a method of concealing one’s meaning from all but the initiated, of which the Hawaiian, whether alii or commoner, was very fond. The people of the hula were famous for this sort of accomplishment and prided themselves not a little in it as an effectual means of giving appropriate flavor and gusto to their performances.
*Mele*
Ele-ele kau-kau;[213]
Ka hala-le,[214] e kau-kau,
Ka e-ele ihi,
Ele ihi, ele a,
5 Ka e-ele ku-pou;[215]
Ku-pou.
Ka hala, e![216]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Point to a dark one,
Point to a dainty piece,
A delicate morsel she!
Very choice, very hot!
5 She that stoops over—
Aye stoops!
Lo, the hala fruit!
The translation has to be based largely on conjecture. The
author of this bit of fun-making, which is couched in
old-time slang, died without making known the key to his
cipher, and no one whom the present writer has met with is
able to unravel its full meaning.
[Footnote 213: *Kau-kau*. Conjectural meaning to point out some
one in the audience, as the marionettes often did. People
were thus sometimes inveigled in behind the curtain.]
[Footnote 214: *Hala-le*. Said to mean a sop, with which one
took up the juice or gravy of food; a choice morsel.]
[Footnote 215: *Ku-pou*. To stoop over, from devotion to one’s
own pursuits, from modesty, or from shame.]
[Footnote 216: The meaning of this line has been matter for
much conjecture. The author has finally adopted the
suggestion embodied in the translation here given, which is a
somewhat gross reference to the woman’s physical charms.]
The following mele for the hula ki’i, in language colored by
the same motive, was furnished by an accomplished
practitioner who had traveled far and wide in the practice of
her art, having been one of a company of hula dancers that
attended the Columbian exposition in Chicago. It was her good
[Page 98] fortune also to reach the antipodes in her travels, and it was at Berlin, she says, that she witnessed for the first time the European counterpart of the hula ki’i, the “Punch and Judy” show:
*Mele no ka Hula Ki’i*
E le’e kau-kau, kala le’e;
E le’e kau-kau.
E le’e kau-kau, kala le’e.
E lepe kau-kau.
5 E o-ku ana i kai;
E u-au ai aku;
E u-au ai aku;
E u-au ai aku!
E-he-he, e!
[Translation.]
*Song for the Hula Ki’i*
Now for the dance, dance in accord;
Prepare for the dance.
Now for the dance, dance in time.
Up, now, with the flag!
5 Step out to the right
Step out to the left!
Ha, ha, ha!
This translation is the result of much research, yet its
absolute accuracy can not be vouched for. The most learned
authorities (*kaka-olelo*) in old Hawaiian lore that have
been found by the writer express themselves as greatly
puzzled at the exact meaning of the mele just given. Some
scholars, no doubt, would dub these nonsense-lines. The
author can not consent to any such view. The old Hawaiians
were too much in earnest to permit themselves to juggle with
words in such fashion. They were fond of mystery and
concealment, appreciated a joke, given to slang, but to
string a lot of words together without meaning, after the
fashion of a college student who delights to relieve his mind
by shouting “Upidee, upida,” was not their way. “The people
of the hula,” said one man, “had ways of fun-making peculiar
to themselves.”
When the hula-dancer who communicated to the author the above
song—a very accomplished and intelligent woman—was asked
for information that would render possible its proper
translation, she replied that her part was only that of a
mouthpiece to repeat the words and to make appropriate
gestures, *he pono hula wale no*, mere parrot-work. The
language, she said, was such “classic” Hawaiian as to be
beyond her understanding.
[Page 99] Here, again, is another song in argot, a coin of the same mintage as those just given:
*Mele*
E kau-kau i hale manu, e!
Ike oe i ka lola huluhulu, e?
I ka huluhulu a we’uwe’u, e?
I ka punohu,[217] e, a ka la e kau nei?
5 Walea ka manu i ka wai, e!
I ka wai lohi o ke kini, e!
[Translation.]
*Song*
Let’s worship now the bird-cage.
Seest thou the furzy woodland,
The shag of herb and forest,
The low earth-tinting rainbow,
5 Child of the Sun that swings above?
O, happy bird, to drink from the pool,
A bliss free to the million!
[Footnote 217: *Punohu*. A compact mass of clouds, generally
lying low in the heavens; a cloud-omen; also a rainbow that
lies close to the earth, such as is formed when the sun is
high in the heavens.]
This is the language of symbolism. When Venus went about to
ensnare Adonis, among her other wiles she warbled to him of
mountains, dales, and pleasant fountains.
The mele now presented is of an entirely different character
from those that have just preceded. It is said to have been
the joint composition of the high chief Keiki-o-ewa of Kauai,
at one time the kahu of Prince Moses, and of Kapihe, a
distinguished poet—haku-mele—and prophet. (To Kapihe is
ascribed the prophetic and oracular utterance, _E iho ana o
luna, e pii ana o lalo; e ku ana ka paia; e moe ana kaula; e
kau ana kau-huhu—o lani iluna, o honua ilalo_—“The high
shall be brought low, the lowly uplifted; the defenses shall
stand; the prophet shall lie low; the mountain walls shall
abide—heaven above, earth beneath.”)
This next poem may be regarded as an epithalamium, the
celebration of the mystery and bliss of the wedding night,
the *hoáo ana* of a high chief and his high-born *kapu*
sister. The murmur of the breeze, the fury of the winds, the
heat of the sun, the sacrificial ovens, all are symbols that
set forth the emotions, experiences, and mysteries of the
night:
[Page 100]
*Mele*
(Ko’ihonua)
O Wanahili[218] ka po loa ia Manu’a,[219]
O ka pu kau kama[220] i Hawaii akea;
O ka pu leina[221] kea a Kiha—
O Kiha nui a Pii-lani—[222]
5 O Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama;[223]
O ka maka iolena[224] ke koohaulani i-ó!
O kela kanaka hoali mauna,[225]
O Ka Lani ku’i hono i ka moku.[226]
I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá,[227]
10 Ai’ i Kauai, i Oahu, i Maui,
I Hawaii kahiko o Keawe enaena,[228]
Ke a-á, mai la me ke o-koko,
Ke lapa-lapa la i ka makani,
Makani kua, he Naulu.[229]
10 Kua ka Wainoa i ka Mikioi,
[Page 101] Pu-á ia lalo o Hala-li’i, [230] Me he alii, alii, la no ka hele i Kekaha, Ka hookiekie i ka li’u-la,[231] Ka hele i ke alia-lia la, alia! 20 Alia-lia la’a-laau Kekaha. Ke kaha o Kala-ihi, Wai-o-lono. Ke olo la ke pihe a ka La, e! Ke nu la paha i Honua-ula.
[Footnote 218: *Wanahili*. A princess of the mythological
period belonging to Puna, Hawaii.]
[Footnote 219: *Manu’a*. A king of Hilo, the son of Kane-hili,
famous for his skill in spear-throwing, *maika*-rolling, and
all athletic exercises. He was united in marriage, *ho-ao*,
to the lovely princess Wanahili. Tradition deals with Manua
as a very lovable character.]
[Footnote 220: *Pu kau kama*. The conch (pu) is figured as the
herald of fame. *Kau* is used in the sense of to set on high,
in contrast with such a word as *waiho*, to set down. *Kama*
is the word of dignity for children.]
[Footnote 221: *Pu leina*. It is asserted on good authority
that the triton (*pu*), when approached in its ocean habitat,
will often make sudden and extraordinary leaps in an effort
to escape. There is special reference here to the famous
conch known in Hawaiian story as *Kiha-pu*. It was credited
with supernatural powers as a *kupua*. During the reign of
Umi, son of Liloa, it was stolen from the *heiau* in Waipio
valley and came into the hands of god Kane. In his wild
awa-drinking revels the god terrified Umi and his people by
sounding nightly blasts with the conch. The shell was finally
restored to King Umi by the superhuman aid of the famous dog
Puapua-lena-lena.]
[Footnote 222: *Kiha-nui a Piilani*. Son of Piilani, a king of
Maui. He is credited with the formidable engineering work of
making a paved road over the mountain palis of Koolau, Maui.]
[Footnote 223: *Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama*. This Kauhi, as his
long title indicates, was the son of the famous king,
Kama-lala-walu, and succeeded his father in the kingship over
Maui and, probably, Lanai. Kama-lala-walu had a long and
prosperous reign, which ended, however, in disaster. Acting
on the erroneous reports of his son Kauhi, whom he had sent
to spy out the land, he invaded the kingdom of
Lono-i-ka-makahiki on Hawaii, was wounded and defeated in
battle, taken prisoner, and offered up as a sacrifice on the
altar of Lono’s god, preferring that death, it is said, to
the ignominy of release.]
[Footnote 224: *I-olena*. Roving, shifty, lustful.]
[Footnote 225: *Kanaka hoali mauna*. Man who moved mountains;
an epithet of compliment applied perhaps to Kiha, above
mentioned, or to the king mentioned in the next verse,
Kekaulike.]
[Footnote 226: *Ku’i hono i ka moku*. Who bound together into
one (state) the islands Maui, Molokai, Lanai, and Kahoolawe.
This was, it is said, Kekaulike, the fifth king of Maui after
Kama-lala-walu. At his death he was succeeded by
Kamehameha-nui—to be distinguished from the Kamehameha of
Hawaii—and he in turn by the famous warrior-king Kahekili,
who routed the invading army of Kalaniopuu, king of Hawaii,
on the sand plains of Wailuku.]
[Footnote 227: *I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá*. This verse
presents grammatical difficulties. The word *I* implies the
imperative, a form of request or demand, though that is
probably not the intent. It seems to be a means, authorized
by poetical license, of ascribing honor and tabu-glory to
the name of the person eulogized, who, the context leads the
author to think, was Kekaulike. The island names other than
that of Maui seem to have been thrown in for poetical effect,
as that king, in the opinion of the author, had no power over
Kauai, Oahu, or Hawaii. The purpose may have been to assert
that his glory reached to those islands.]
[Footnote 228: *Keawe enaena*. Keawe, whose tabu was hot as a
burning oven. Presumably Keawe, the son of Umi, is the one
meant.]
[Footnote 229: *Naulu*. The sea-breeze at Waimea, Kauai.]
[Footnote 230: *Hala-lii*. A sandy plain on Niihau, where grows
a variety of sugar-cane that lies largely covered by the
loose soil, *ke ko eli o Hala-lii*.]
[Footnote 231: *Li’u-la*. The mirage, a common phenomenon on
Niihau, and especially at Mana, on Kauai.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
(Distinct utterance)
Wanahili bides the whole night with Manu’a,
By trumpet hailed through broad Hawaii,
By the white vaulting conch of Kiha—
Great Kiha, offspring of Pii-lani,
5 Father of eight-branched Kama-lala-walu
The far-roaming eye now sparkles with joy,
Whose energy erstwhile shook mountains,
The king who firm-bound the isles in one state,
His glory, symboled by four human altars,
10 Reaches Kauai, Oahu, Maui,
Hawaii the eld of Keawe,
Whose tabu, burning with blood-red blaze,
Shoots flame-tongues that leap with the wind,
The breeze from the mountain, the Naulu.
15 Waihoa humps its back, while cold Mikioi
Blows fierce and swift across Hala-li’i.
It vaunts like a king at Kekaha,
Flaunting itself in the sun’s heat,
And lifts itself up in mirage,
20 Ghost-forms of woods and trees in Kekaha—
Sweeping o’er waste Kala-ihi, Water-of-Lono;
While the sun shoots forth its fierce rays—
Its heat, perchance, reaches to Honua-ula.
The mele next given takes its local color from Kauai and
brings vividly to mind the experiences of one who has climbed
the mountain walls *pali*, that buffet the winds of its
northern coast.
*Mele*
Kalalau, pali eku i ka makani;
Pu ka Lawa-kua,[232] hoi mau i Kolo-kini;
Nu a anahulu ka pa ana i-uka—
Anahulu me na po keu elua.
[Page 102] 5 Elua Hono-pu o ia kua kanaka; Elua Ko’a-mano[233] me Wai-aloha, Ka pali waha iho, waha iho[234] me ke kua; Ke keiki puu iloko o ka pali nui. E hii an’[235] e Makua i Kalalau.
[Footnote 232: *Lawa-kua.* A wind in Kalalau that blows for a
time from the mountains and then, it is said, veers to the
north, so that it comes from the direction of a secondary
valley, Kolo-kini, a branch of Kalalau. The bard describes it
as continuing to blow for twelve nights before It shifts, an
instance, probably, of poetic license.]
[Footnote 233: *Ko’a-mano*. A part of the ocean into which the
stream Wai-aloha falls.]
[Footnote 234: *Waha iho*. With mouth that yawns downward,
referring, doubtless, to the overarching of the *pali*,
precipice. The same figure is applied to the back (*kua*) of
the traveler who climbs it.]
[Footnote 235: Elision of the final *a* in *ana*.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
The mountain walls of Kalalau
Buffet the blasts of Lawa-kau,
That surge a decade of nights and twain;
Then, wearied, it veers to the north.
5 Two giant backs stand the cliffs Hono-pu;
The falls Wai-aloha mate with the sea:
An overhung pali—the climber’s back swings in
Its mouth—to face it makes one a child—
Makua, whose arms embrace Kalalau.
The mind of the ancient bard was so narrowly centered on the
small plot his imagination cultivated that he disregarded the
outside world, forgetting that it could not gaze upon the
scenes which filled his eyes.
The valley of Kalalau from its deep recess in the
northwestern coast of Kauai looks out upon the heaving waters
of the Pacific. The mountain walls of the valley are abrupt,
often overhanging. Viewed from the ocean, the cliffs are
piled one upon another like the buttresses of a Gothic
cathedral. The ocean is often stormy, and during several
months in the year forbids intercourse with other parts of
the island, save as the hardy traveler makes his way along
precipitous mountain trails.
The hula *ala’a-papa*, hula *ipu*, hula *pa-ipu* (or
*kuolo*), the hula *hoo-naná*, and the hula *ki’i* were all
performed to the accompaniment of the ipu or calabash, and,
being the only ones that were so accompanied, if the author
is correctly informed, they may be classed together under one
head as the calabash hulas.
[Page 103]
XII.—THE HULA PAHU
The hula *pahu* was so named from the *pahu*,[236] or drum,
that was its chief instrument of musical accompaniment (pl.
x).
[Footnote 236: Full form, *pahu-hula*.]
It is not often that the story of an institution can be so
closely fitted to the landmarks of history as in the case of
this hula; and this comes about through our knowledge of the
history of the pahu itself. Tradition, direct and reliable,
informs us that the credit of introducing the big drum
belongs to La’a. This chief flourished between five and six
centuries ago, and from having spent most of his life in the
lands to the south, which the ancient Hawaiians called
Kahiki, was himself generally styled La’a-mai-Kahiki
(La’a-from-Kahiki). The young man was of a volatile
disposition, given to pleasure, and it is evident that the
big drum he brought with him to Hawaii on one of his voyages
from Kahiki was in his eyes by no means the least important
piece of baggage that freighted his canoes. On nearing the
land he waked the echoes with the stirring tones of his drum,
which so astonished the people that they followed him from
point to point along the coast and heaped favors upon him
whenever he came ashore.
La’a was an enthusiastic patron of the hula and is said to
have made a tour of the islands, in which he instructed the
natives in new forms of this seductive pastime, one of which
was the hula *ka-eke*.
There is reason to believe, it seems, that the original use
of the pahu was in connection with the services of the
temple, and that its adaptation to the halau was simply a
transference from one to another religious use.
The hula pahu was preeminently a performance of formal and
dignified character, not such as would be extemporized for
the amusement of an irreverent company. Like all the formal
hulas, it was tabu, by which the Hawaiians meant that it was
a religious service, or so closely associated with the notion
of worship as to make it an irreverence to trifle with it.
For this reason as well as for its intrinsic dignity its
performance was reserved for the most distinguished guests
and the most notable occasions.
Both classes of actors took part in the performance of the
hula pahu, the olapa contributing the mele as they stood and
went through the motions of the dance, while the hoopaa
maintained the kneeling position and operated the big drum
with the left hand. While his left hand was thus engaged, the
[Page 104] musician with a thong held in his right hand struck a tiny drum, the pu-niu, that was conveniently strapped to the thigh of the same side. As its name signifies, the pu-niu was made from coconut shell, being headed with fish-skin.
The harmonious and rhythmic timing of these two instruments
called for strict attention on the part of the performer. The
pahu, having a tone of lower pitch and greater volume than
the other, was naturally sounded at longer intervals, while
the pu-niu delivered its sharp crisp tones in closer order.
*Mele*
(Ko’i-honua)
O Hilo oe, Hilo, muliwai a ka ua i ka lani,
I hana ia Hilo, ko-í ana e ka ua.
E haló ko Hilo ma i-o, i-anei;
Lenalena Hilo e, panopano i ka ua.
5 Ua lono Pili-keko o Hilo i ka wai;
O-kakala ka hulu o Hilo i ke anu;
Ua ku o ka paka a ka ua i ke one;
Ua moe oni ole Hilo i-luna ke alo;
Ua hana ka uluna lehu o Hana-kahi.
10 Haule ka onohi Hilo o ka ua i ke one;
Loku kapa ka hi-hilo kai o Pai-kaka.
Ha, e!
2
A Puna au, i Kuki’i au, i Ha’eha’e,
Ike au i ke a kino-lau lehua.
He laau malalo o ia pohaku.
Hanohano Puna e, kehakeha i ka ua,
5 Káhiko mau no ia no-laila.
He aina haaheo loa no Puna;
I haaheo i ka hala me ka lehua;
He maikai maluna, he a malalo;
He kelekele ka papa o Mau-kele.
10 Kahuli Apua e, kele ana i Mau-kele.
[Translation.]
*Song*
(Bombastic style)
Thou art Hilo, Hilo, flood-gate of heaven.
Hilo has power to wring out the rain.
Let Hilo turn here and turn there;
Hilo’s kept from employ, somber with rain;
5 Pili-keko roars with full stream;
The feathers of Hilo bristle with cold,
And her hail-stones smite on the sand.
She lies without motion, with upturned face,
The fire-places pillowed with ashes;
10 The bullets of rain are slapping the land,
Pitiless rain turmoiling Pai-kaka.
So, indeed.
[Page 105] 2
In Puna was I, in Ku-ki’i, in Ha’e-ha’e,
I saw a wraith of lehua, a burning bush,
A fire-tree beneath the lava plate.
Magnificent Puna, fertile from rain,
5 At all times weaving its mantle.
Aye Puna’s a land of splendor,
Proudly bedight with palm and lehua;
Beauteous above, but horrid below,
And miry the plain of Mau-kele.
10 Apua upturned, plod on to Mau-kele.
*Mele*
Kau lilua i ke anu Wai-aleale;
He maka halalo ka lehua makanoe;[237]
He lihilihi kuku ia no Aipo,[238] e;
O ka hulu a’a ia o Hau-a-iliki;[239]
5 Ua pehi ’a e ka ua a éha ka nahele,
Maui ka pua, uwe éha i ke anu,
I ke kukuna la-wai o Mokihana.[240]
Ua hana ia aku ka pono a ua pololei;
Ua hai ’na ia aku no ia oe;
10 O ke ola no ia.
O kia’i loko, kia’i Ka-ula,[241]
Nana i ka makani, hoolono ka leo,
Ka halulu o ka Malua-kele;[242]
Kiei, halo i Maka-ike-ole.
15 Kamau ke ea i ka halau[243] a ola;
He kula lima ia no Wawae-noho,[244]
Me he puko’a hakahaka la i Waahila
Ka momoku a ka unu-lehua o Lehua.
A lehulehu ka hale pono ka noho ana,
20 Loaa kou haawina—o ke aloha,
Ke hauna[245] mai nei ka puka o ka hale.
Ea!
[Footnote 237: *Lehua makanoe*. The lehua trees that grow on
the top of Wai-aleale, the mountain mass of Kauai, are of
peculiar form, low, stunted, and so furzy as to be almost
thorny, *kuku*, as mentioned in the next line.]
[Footnote 238: *Ai-po*. A swamp that occupies the summit basin
of the mountain, in and about which the thorny lehua trees
above mentioned stand as a fringe.]
[Footnote 239: *Hau-a-iliki*. A word made up of *hau*, dew or
frost, and *iliki*, to smite. The *a* is merely a
connective.]
[Footnote 240: *Mokihana*. The name of a region on the flank of
Wai-aleale, also a plant that grows there, whose berry is
fragrant and is used in making wreaths.]
[Footnote 241: *Ka-ula*. A small rocky island visible from
Kauai.]
[Footnote 242: *Malua-kele*. A wind.]
[Footnote 243: *Halau*. The shed or house which sheltered the
canoe, *wa’a*, which latter, as we have seen, was often used
figuratively to mean the human body, especially the body of a
woman. *Kamau ke ea i ka halau* might be translated
“persistent the breath from her body.” “There’s kames o’
hinny ’tween my luve’s lips.”]
[Footnote 244: *Wawae-noho*. Literally the foot that abides; it
is the name of a place. Here it is to be understood as
meaning constancy. It is an instance in which the concrete
stands for the abstract.]
[Footnote 245: *Hauna*. An odor. In this connection it means
the odor that hangs about a human habitation. The hidden
allusion, it is needless to say, is to sexual
attractiveness.]
[Page 106]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Wai-aleale stands haughty and cold,
Her lehua bloom, fog-soaked, droops pensive;
The thorn-fringe set about swampy Ai-po is
A feather that flaunts in spite of the pinching frost.
5 Her herbage is pelted, stung by the rain;
Bruised all her petals, and moaning in cold
Mokihana’s sun, his wat’ry beams.
I have acted in good faith and honor,
My complaint is only to you—
10 A matter that touches my life.
Best watch within and toward Ka-ula;
Question each breeze, note every rumor,
Even the whisper of Malua-kele.
Search high and search low, unobservant.
15 There is life in the breath from her body,
Fond caress by a hand not inconstant.
Like fissured groves of coral
Stand the ragged clumps of lehua.
Many the houses, easy the life.
20 You have your portion—of love;
Humanity smells at the door.
Aye, indeed.
The imagery of this poem is peculiarly obscure and the
meaning difficult of translation. The allusions are so local
and special that their meaning does not carry to a distance.
Wai-aleale is the central mountain mass of Kauai, about 6,000
feet high. Its summit, a cold, fog-swept wilderness of swamp
and lake beset with dwarfish growths of lehua, is used as the
symbol of a woman, impulsively kind, yet in turn passionate
and disdainful. The physical attributes of the mountain are
ascribed to her, its spells of frosty coldness, its gloom and
distance, its fickleness of weather, the repellant
hirsuteness of the stunted vegetation that fringes the
central swamp—these things are described as symbols of her
temper, character, and physical make-up. The bloom and
herbage of the wilderness, much pelted by the storm, are
figures to represent her physical charms. But spite of all
these faults and imperfections, a perennial fragrance, as of
mokihana, clings to her person, and she is the object of
devoted love, capable of weaving the spell of fascination
about her victims.
This poem furnishes a good example of a peculiarity that
often is an obstacle to the understanding of Hawaiian poetry.
It is the breaking up of the composition into a number of
parts that have but a loose seeming connection the one with
the other.
[Page 107]
XIII.—THE HULA ÚLI-ULÍ
The hula *úli-ulí* was so called from the rattle which was
its sole instrument of accompaniment. This consisted of a
small gourd about the size of a large orange, into the cavity
of which were put shot-like seeds, like those of the canna; a
handle was then attached (pl. xi).
The actors who took part in this hula belonged, it is said,
to the class termed hoopaa, and went through with the
performance while kneeling or squatting, as has been
described. While cantillating the mele they held the rattle,
*úli-ulí*, in the right hand, shaking it against the palm of
the other hand or the thigh, or making excursions in one
direction and another. In some performances of this hula
which the author has witnessed the olapa also took part, in
one case a woman, who stood and cantillated the song with
movement and gesture, while the hoopaa devoted themselves
exclusively to handling the úli-ulí rattles.
The sacrificial offerings that preceded the old-time
performances of this hula are said to have been awa and a
roast porkling, in honor of the goddess Laka.
If the dignity and quality of the meles now used, or reported
to have been used, in the hula *úli-ulí* are to be taken as
any criterion of the quality and dignity of this hula, one
has to conclude that it must be assigned to a rank below that
of some others, such, for instance, as the *ala’a-papa*,
*pa-ipu*, *Pele*, and others.
David Malo, the Hawaiian historian, author of _Ka Moolelo
Hawaii_,[246] in the short chapter that he devotes to the hula,
mentions only ten hulas by name, the *ka-laau*,
*pa’i-umauma*, *pahu*, *pahu’a*, *ala’a-papa*, *pa’i-pa’i*,
*pa-ipu*, *ulili*, *kolani*, and the *kielei*. *Ulili* is but
another form of the word *úli-ulí*. Any utterance of Malo is
to be received seriously; but it seems doubtful if he
deliberately selected for mention the ten hulas that were
really the most important. It seems more probable that he set
down the first ten that stood forth prominent in his memory.
It was not Malo’s habit, nor part of his education, to make
an exhaustive list of sports and games, or in fact of
anything. He spoke of what occurred to him. It must also be
remembered that, being an ardent convert to Christianity,
[Page 108] Malo felt himself conscience-bound to set himself in opposition to the amusements, sports, and games of his people, and he was unable, apparently, to see in them any good whatsoever. Malo was a man of uncompromising honesty and rigidity of principles. His nature, acting under the new influences that surrounded him after the introduction of Christianity, made it impossible for him to discriminate calmly between the good and the pernicious, between the purely human and poetic and the depraved elements in the sports practised by his people during their period of heathenism. There was nothing halfway about Malo. Having abandoned a system, his nature compelled him to denounce it root and branch.
[Footnote 246: Translated by N.B. Emerson, M.D., under the
title “Hawaiian Antiquities,” and published by the B.P.
Bishop Museum. Hawaiian Gazette Company (Limited), Honolulu,
1903.]
The first mele here offered as an accompaniment to this hula
can boast of no great antiquity; it belongs to the middle of
the nineteenth century, and was the product of some gallant
at a time when princes and princesses abounded in Hawaii:
*Mele*
Aole i manao ia.
Kahi wai a o Alekoki.
Hookohu ka ua i uka,
Noho mai la i Nuuanu.
5 Anuanu, makehewa au
Ke kali ana i-laila.
Ea ino paha ua paa
Kou manao i ane’i,
Au i hoomalu ai.
10 Hoomalu oe a malu;
Ua malu keia kino
Mamuli a o kou leo.
Kau nui aku ka manao
Kani wai a o Kapena.
15 Pani’a paa ia mai
Na manowai a o uka;
Ahu wale na ki’owai,
Na papa-hale o luna.
Maluna a’e no wau,
20 Ma ke kuono liilii.
A waho, a o Mamala,
Hao mai nei ehu-ehu;
Pulu au i ka huna-kai,
Kai heahea i ka ili.
25 Hookahi no koa nui,
Nana e alo ia ino.
Ino-ino mai nei luna,
I ka hao a ka makani.
He makani ahai-lono;
30 Lohe ka luna i Pelekane.
O ia pouli nui
Mea ole i ku’u manao.
I o, i a-ne’i au,
Ka piina la o Ma’ema’e,
[Page 109] 35 E kilohi au o ka nani Na pua i Mauna-ala. He ala ona-ona kou, Ke pili mai i ane’i, O a’u lehua ula i-luna, 40 Ai ono a na manu.
[Translation.]
*Song*
I spurn the thought with disdain
Of that pool Alekoki:
On the upland lingers the rain
And fondly haunts Nuuanu.
5 Sharp was the cold, bootless
My waiting up there.
I thought thou wert true,
Wert loyal to me,
Whom thou laids’t under bonds.
10 Take oath now and keep it;
This body is sacred to thee,
Bound by the word of thy mouth.
My heart leaps up at thought
Of the pool, pool of Kapena;
15 To me it is fenced, shut off,
The water-heads tightly sealed up.
The fountains must be a-hoarding,
For skies are ever down-pouring;
The while I am lodged up aloft,
20 Bestowed in the cleft of a rock.
Now, tossed by sea at Mamala,
The wind drives wildly the surf;
I’m soaked with the scud of the ocean,
My body is rough with the rime.
25 But one stout hero and soldier,
With heart to face such a storm.
Wild scud the clouds,
Hurled by the tempest,
A tale-bearing wind,
30 That gossips afar.
The darkness and storm
Are nothing to me.
This way and that am I turning,
Climbing the hill Ma’e-ma’e,
35 To look on thy charms, dear one,
The fragrant buds of the mountain.
What perfume breathes from thy body,
Such time as to thee I come close,
My scarlet bloom of lehua
40 Yields nectar sought by the birds.
This mele is said to have been the production of Prince
[Page 110] William Lunalilo—afterward King of the Hawaiian islands—and to have been addressed to the Princess Victoria Kamamalu, whom he sought in marriage. Both of them inherited high chief rank, and their offspring, according to Hawaiian usage, would have outranked her brothers, kings Kamehameha IV and V. Selfish and political considerations, therefore, forbade the match, and thereby hangs a tale, the shadow of which darkens this song. Every lover is one part poet; and Lunalilo, even without the love-flame, was more than one part poet.
The poem shows the influence of foreign ways and teachings
and the pressure of the new environment that had entered
Hawaii, in its form, in the moderation of its language and
imagery, and in the coherence of its parts; at the same time
the spirit of the song and the color of its native imagery
mark it as the product of a Polynesian mind.
According to the author’s interpretation of the song,
*Alekoki* (verse 2), a name applied to a portion of the
Nuuanu stream lower down than the basin and falls of *Kapena*
(*Kahiwai a o Kapena*—verse 14), symbolizes a flame that may
once have warmed the singer’s imagination, but which he
discards in favor of his new love, the pool of Kapena. The
rain, which prefers to linger in the upland regions of Nuuanu
(verses 3 and 4) and which often reaches not the lower
levels, typifies his brooding affection. The cold, the storm,
and the tempest that rage at *Mamala* (verse 21)—a name
given to the ocean just outside Honolulu harbor—and that
fill the heavens with driving scud (verses 27 and 28)
represent the violent opposition in high quarters to the
love-match. The tale-bearing wind, *makani ahai-lono* (verse
29), refers, no doubt, to the storm of scandal. The use of
the place-names *Ma’ema’e* and *Mauna-ala* seem to indicate
Nuuanu as the residence of the princess.
*Mele*
PALE I
Auhea wale oe, e ka Makani Inu-wai?
Pa kolonahe i ka ili-kai,
Hoonui me ka Naulu,
Na ulu hua i ka hapapa.
5 Anó au ike i ke ko Hala-li’i,
I keia wa nana ia Lehua.
PALE II
Aia i Waimea ku’u haku-lei?
Hui pu me ka wai ula iliahi,
Mohala ka pua i ke one o Pawene;
10 Ka lawe a ke Koolau
Noho pu me ka ua punonohu ula i ka nahele,
Ike i ka wai kea o Makaweli;
[Page 111] Ua noho pu i ka nahele Me ka lei hinahina o Maka-li’i. 15 Liilii ka uka o Koae’a; Nana i ka ua lani-pili, Ka ó-ó, manu le’a o ka nahele.
I Pa-ie-ie au, noho pu me ke anu.
E ha’i a’e oe i ka puana:
20 Ke kahuna kalai-hoe o Puu-ka-Pele.
[Translation.]
*Song*
CANTO I
Whence art thou, thirsty wind,
That gently kissest the sea,
Then, wed to the ocean breeze,
Playest fan with the breadfruit tree?
5 Here sprawl Hala-lii’s canes,
There stands bird-haunted Lehua.
CANTO II
My wreath-maker dwells at Waimea.
Partnered is she to the swirling river;
They plant with flowers the sandy lea,
10 While the bearded surf, tossed by the breeze,
Vaunts on the hills as the sun-bow,
Looks on the crystal stream Makaweli,
And in the wildwood makes her abode
With Hinahina of silvern wreaths.
15 Koaea’s a speck to the eye,
Under the low-hanging rain-cloud,
Woodland home of the plaintive ó-ó.
From frost-bitten Pa-ie-ie
I bid you, guess me the fable:
20 Paddle-maker on Pele’s mount.
This mele comes from Kauai, an Island in many respects
individualized from the other parts of the group and that
seems to have been the nurse of a more delicate imagination
than was wont to flourish elsewhere. Its tone is archaic, and
it has the rare merit of not transfusing the more crudely
erotic human emotions into the romantic sentiments inspired
by nature.
The Hawaiians dearly loved fable and allegory. Argument or
truth, dressed out in such fanciful garb, gained double force
and acceptance. We may not be able to follow a poet in his
wanderings; his local allusions may obscure to us much of his
meaning; the doctrine of his allegory may be to us largely a
riddle; and the connection between the body of its thought
and illustration and the application, or solution, of the
poetical conundrum may be past our comprehension; but the
[Page 112] play of the poet’s fancy, whether childish or mature, is an interesting study, and brings us closer in human sympathy to the people who took pleasure in such things.
In translating this poem, while not following literally the
language of the poet, the aim has been to hit the target
of his deeper meaning, without hopelessly involving the
reader in the complexities of Hawaiian color and local
topography. A few words of explanation must suffice.
The *Makani Inu-wai* (verse 1)—known to all the islands—is
a wind that dries up vegetation, literally a water-drinking
wind.
The *Naulu* (verse 3) is the ordinary sea-breeze at Waimea,
Kauai, sometimes accompanied by showers.
*Hala-li’i* (verse 5) is a sandy plain on Niihau, and the
peculiarity of its canes is that they sprawl along on the
ground, and are often to a considerable extent covered by the
loose soil.
*Lehua* (verse 6) is the well-known bird-island, lying north
of Niihau and visible from the Waimea side of Kauai.
The wreath-maker, *haku-lei* (verse 7), who dwells at Waimea,
is perhaps the ocean-vapor, or the moist sea-breeze, or, it
may be, some figment of the poet’s imagination—the author
can not make out exactly what.
The *hinahina* (verse 14), a native geranium, is a mountain
shrub that stands about 3 feet high, with silver-gray leaves.
*Maka-weli, Maka-li’i, Koae’a*, and *Pa-ie-ie* are names of
places on Kauai.
*Puu-ka-Pele* (verse 20) as the name indicates, is a volcanic
hill, situated near Waimea.
The key or answer (*puana*), to the allegory given in verse
20, *Ke kahuna kalai-hoe o Puu-ka-Pele*, the paddle-making
kahuna of Pele’s mount, when declared by the poet
(*haku-mele*), is not very informing to the foreign mind; but
to the Hawaiian auditor it, no doubt, took the place of our
*haec fabula docet*, and it at least showed that the poet was
not without an intelligent motive. In the poem in point the
author acknowledges his inability to make connection between
it and the body of the song.
One merit we must concede to Hawaiian poetry, it wastes no
time in slow approach. The first stroke of the artist places
the auditor *in medias res*.
[Page 113]
XIV.—THE HULA PUÍLI
The character of a hula was determined to some extent by the
nature of the musical instrument that was its accompaniment.
In the hula *puíli* it certainly seems as if one could
discern the influence of the rude, but effective, instrument
that was its musical adjunct. This instrument, the *puíli*
(fig. 1), consisted of a section of bamboo from which one
node with its diaphragm had been removed and the hollow
joint at that end split up for a considerable distance into
fine divisions, which gave forth a breezy rustling when the
instrument was struck or shaken.
The performers, all of them hoopaa, were often placed in two
rows, seated or kneeling and facing one another, thus
favoring a responsive action in the use of the puíli as well
as in the cantillation of the song. One division would
sometimes shake and brandish their instruments, while the
others remained quiet, or both divisions would perform at
once, each individual clashing one puíli against the other
one held by himself, or against that of his vis-a-vis; or
they might toss them back and forth to each other, one bamboo
passing another in mid air.
While the hula puíli is undeniably a performance of classical
antiquity, it is not to be regarded as of great dignity or
importance as compared with many other hulas. Its character,
like that of the meles associated with it, is light and
trivial.
The mele next presented is by no means a modern production.
It seems to be the work of some unknown author, a fragment of
folklore, it might be called by some, that has drifted down
to the present generation and then been put to service in the
hula. If hitherto the word *folklore* has not been used it is
not from any prejudice against it, but rather from a feeling
that there exists an inclination to stretch the application
of it beyond its true limits and to make it include popular
songs, stories, myths, and the like, regardless of its
fitness of application. Some writers, no doubt, would apply
this vague term to a large part of the poetical pieces which
are given in this book.
[Page 114] On the same principle, why should they not apply the term folklore to the myths and stories that make up the body of Roman and Greek mythology? The present author reserves the term folklore for application to those unappropriated scraps of popular song, story, myth, and superstition that have drifted down the stream of antiquity and that reach us in the scrap-bag of popular memory, often bearing in their battered forms the evidence of long use.
Mele
Hiki mai, niki mai ka La, e.
Aloha wale ka La e kau nei,
Aia malalo o Ka-wai-hoa,[247]
A ka lalo o Kauai, o Lehua.
5 A Kauai au, ike i ka pali;
A Milo-lii[248] pale ka pali loloa.
E kolo ana ka pali o Makua-iki;[249]
Kolo o Pu-á, he keiki,
He keiki makua-ole ke uwe nei.
[Translation.]
*Song*
It has come, it has come; lo the Sun!
How I love the Sun that’s on high;
Below it swims Ka-wai-hoa,
On the slope inclined from Lehua.
5 On Kauai met I a pali,
A beetling cliff that bounds Milo-lii,
And climbing up Makua-iki,
Crawling up was Pua, the child,
An orphan that weeps out its tale.
The writer has rescued the following fragment from the
wastebasket of Hawaiian song. A lean-to of modern verse has
been omitted; it was evidently added within a generation:
*Mele*
Malua,[250] ki’i wai ke aloha,
Hoopulu i ka liko mamane.
Uleuleu mai na manu,
Inu wai lehua o Panaewa,[251]
5 E walea ana i ke onaona,
Ke one wali o Ohele.
[Page 115] Hele mai nei kou aloha A lalawe i ko’u nui kino, Au i hookohu ai, 10 E kuko i ka manao. Kuhi no paha oe no Hopoe[252] Nei lehua au i ka hana ohi ai.
[Footnote 247: Kawaihoa. The southern point of Niihau, which is
to the west of Kauai, the evident standpoint of the poet, and
therefore “below” Kauai.]
[Footnote 248: *Milo-lii*. A valley on the northwestern angle
of Kauai, a precipitous region, in which travel from one
point to another by land is almost impossible.]
[Footnote 249: *Makua-iki*. Literally “little father,” a name
given to an overhanging pali, where was provided a hanging
ladder to make travel possible. The series of palis in this
region comes to an end at Milo-lii.]
[Footnote 250: The *Malua* was a wind, often so dry that it
sucked up the moisture from the land and destroyed the tender
vegetation.]
[Footnote 251: Panaewa was a woodland region much talked of in
poetry and song.]
[Footnote 252: *Hopoe* was a beautiful young woman, a friend
of Hiiaka, and was persecuted by Pele owing to jealousy. One
of the forms in which she as a divinity showed herself was as
a lehua tree in full bloom.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Malua, fetch water of love,
Give drink to this mamane bud.
The birds, they are singing ecstatic,
Sipping Panaewa’s nectared lehua,
5 Beside themselves with the fragrance
Exhaled from the garden Ohele.
Your love comes to me a tornado;
It has rapt away my whole body,
The heart you once sealed as your own,
10 There planted the seed of desire.
Thought you ’twas the tree of Hopoe,
This tree, whose bloom you would pluck?
What is the argument of this poem? A passion-stricken swain,
or perhaps a woman, cries to *Malua* to bring relief to his
love-smart, to give drink to the parched *mamane*
buds—emblems of human feeling. In contrast to his own
distress, he points to the birds caroling in the trees,
reveling in the nectar of *lehua* bloom, intoxicated with the
scent of nature’s garden. What answer does the lovelorn swain
receive from the nymph he adores? In lines 11 and 12 she
banteringly asks him if he took her to be like the
traditional lehua tree of Hopoe, of which men stood in awe as
a sort of divinity, not daring to pluck its flowers? It is as
if the woman had asked—if the poet’s meaning is rightly
interpreted—“Did you really think me plighted to vestal
vows, a tree whose bloom man was forbidden to pluck?”
[Page 116]
XV.—THE HULA KA-LAAU
The hula *ka-laau* (*ka*, to strike; *laau*, wood) was named
from the instruments of wood used in producing the
accompaniment, a sort of xylophone, in which one piece of
resonant wood was struck against another. Both divisions of
the performers, the hoopaa and the olapa, took part and each
division was provided with the instruments. The cantillation
was done sometimes by one division alone, sometimes by both
divisions in unison, or one division would answer the other,
a responsive chanting that was termed _haawe aku, haawe
mai_—“to give, to return.”
Ellis gives a quotable description of this hula, which he
calls the “hura ka raau:”
Five musicians advanced first, each, with a staff in his left
hand, five or six feet long, about three or four inches in
diameter at one end, and tapering off to a point at the
other. In his right hand he held a small stick of hard wood,
six or nine inches long, with which he commenced his music by
striking the small stick on the larger one, beating time all
the while with his right foot on a stone placed on the ground
beside him for that purpose. Six women, fantastically dressed
in yellow tapas, crowned, with garlands of flowers, having
also wreaths of native manufacture, of the sweet-scented
flowers of the *gardenia*, on their necks, and branches of
the fragrant *mairi* (another native plant,) bound round
their ankles, now made their way by couples through the
crowd, and, arriving at the area, on one side of which the
musicians stood, began their dance. Their movements were
slow, and, though not always graceful, exhibited nothing
offensive to modest propriety. Both musicians and dancers
alternately chanted songs in honor of former gods and chiefs
of the islands, apparently much to the gratification of the
spectators. (Polynesian Researches, by William Ellis, IV,
78–79, London, 1836.)
The mele here first presented is said to be an ancient mele
that has been modified and adapted to the glorification of
that astute politician, genial companion, and pleasure-loving
king, Kalakaua.
It was not an uncommon thing for one chief to appropriate the
*mele inoa* of another chief. By substituting one name for
another, by changing a genealogy, or some such trifle, the
skin of the lion, so to speak, could be made to cover with
more or less grace and to serve as an apparel of masquerade
for the ass, and without interruption so long as there was no
lion, or lion’s whelp, to do the unmasking.
The poets who composed the mele for a king have been spoken
of as “the king’s washtubs.” Mele inoa were not crown-jewels
[Page 117] to be passed from one incumbent of the throne to another. The practice of appropriating the mele inoa composed in honor of another king and of another line was one that grew up with the decadence of honor in times of degeneracy.
*Mele*
O Kalakaua, he inoa,
O ka pua mae ole i ka la;
Ke pua mai la i ka mauna,
I ke kuahiwi o Mauna-kea;
5 Ke a la i Ki-lau-e-a,
Malamalama i Wahine-kapu,
I ka luna o Uwe-kahuna,
I ka pali kapu o Ka-au-e-a.
E a mai ke alii kia-manu;
10 Ua Wahí i ka hulu o ka mamo,
Ka pua nani o Hawaii;
O Ka-la-kaua, he inoa!
[Translation.]
Song
Ka-la-kaua, a great name,
A flower not wilted by the sun;
It blooms on the mountains,
In the forests of Mauna-kea;
5 It burns in Ki-lau-e-a,
Illumines the cliff Wahine-kapu,
The heights of Uwe-kabuna,
The sacred pali of Ka-au-e-a.
Shine forth, king of bird-hunters,
10 Resplendent in plumage of mamo,
Bright flower of Hawaii:
Ka-la-kaua, the Illustrious!
The proper names *Wahine-kapu, Uwe-kahuna*, and *Ka-au-e-a*
in the sixth, seventh, and eighth verses are localities,
cliffs, bluffs, precipices, etc., in and about the great
caldera of Kilauea, following up the mention (in the fifth
verse) of that giant among the world’s active volcanoes.
The purpose of the poem seems to be to magnify the prowess of
this once famous king as a captivator of the hearts and
loving attentions of the fair sex.
*Mele*
Kona kai opua[253] i kala i ka la’i;
Opua hinano ua i ka malie;
Hiolo na wai naoa a ke kehau,
[Page 118] Ke’ na-ú[254] la na kamalii, 5 Ke kaohi la i ke kukuna o ka la; Ku’u la koili i ke kai— Pumehana wale ia aina! Aloha wale ke kini o Hoolulu, Aohe lua ia oe ke aloha, 10 O ku’u puni, o ka me’ owá.
[Footnote 253: *Opua* means a distinct cloud-pile, an omen, a
weather-sign.]
[Footnote 254: The word *na-ú* refers to a sportive contest
involving a trial of lung-power, that was practised by the
youth of Kona, Hawaii, as well as of other places. They stood
on the shore at sunset, and as the lower limb of the sun
touched the ocean horizon each one, having filled his lungs
to the utmost, began the utterance of the sound *na-u-u-u-u*,
which he must, according to the rules of the game, maintain
continuously until the sun had disappeared, a lapse of about
two minutes’ time. This must be done without taking fresh
breath. Anyone inhaling more air into his lungs or
intermitting the utterance of the sound was compelled by the
umpire to withdraw from the contest and to sit down, while
anyone who maintained the droning utterance during the
prescribed time was declared victor. It was no mean trial.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
The cloud-piles o’er Kona’s sea whet my joy,
Clouds that drop fain in fair weather.
The clustered dew-pearls shake to the ground;
The boys drone out the na-ú to the West,
5 Eager for Sol to sink to his rest.
This my day for a plunge in the sea—
The Sun will be warming other shores—
Happy the tribes of that land of calm!
Fathomless, deep is my love
10 To thee, my passion, my mate.
The author of this love-song, *mele ipo*, is said to have
been Kalola, a widow of Kamehameha I, at a time when she was
an old woman; the place was Lahaina, and the occasion an
amour between Liholiho (Kamehameha II) and a woman of rank.
The last two verses of the poem have been omitted from the
present somewhat free, yet faithful translation, as they do
not seem to be of interest or pertinent from our point of
view, and there is internal evidence that they were added as
an afterthought.
The hulas on the various islands differed somewhat from one
another. In general, it may be said that on Kauai they were
presented with more spirit and in greater variety than in
other parts of the group. The following account will
illustrate this fact:
About the year 1870 the late Queen Emma made the tour of the
island of Kauai, and at some places the hula was performed as
a recreation in her honor. The hula ka-laau was thus
presented; it was marked, however, by such peculiarities as
to make it hardly recognizable as being the same performance
as the one elsewhere known by that name. As given on Kauai,
both the olapa and the hoopaa took part, as they do on the
[Page 119] other islands, but in the Kauai performance the olapa alone handled the two sticks of the xylophone, which in other parts formed the sole instrument of musical accompaniment to this hula. Other striking novelties also were introduced. The olapa held between their toes small sticks with which they beat upon a resonant beam of wood that lay on the floor, thus producing tones of a low pitch. Another departure from the usual style of this hula was that the hoopaa, at the same time, devoted themselves with the right hand to playing upon the pu-niu, the small drum, while with the left they developed the deep bass of the pahu. The result of this outre combination must have been truly remarkable.
It is a matter of observation that on the island of Kauai
both the special features of its spoken language and the
character of its myths and legends indicate a closer
relationship to the groups of the southern Pacific, to which
the Hawaiian people owe their origin, than do those of the
other islands of the Hawaiian group.
[Page 120]
XVI.—THE HULA ÍLI-ÍLI
The *hula íli-íli*, pebble-dance, was a performance of the
classical times, in which, according to one who has witnessed
it, the olapa alone took part. The dancers held in each hand
a couple of pebbles, *ili-ili*—hence the name of the
dance—which they managed to clash against each other, after
the fashion of castanets, thus producing a rude music of much
the same quality as that elicited from the “bones” in our
minstrel performances. According to another witness, the drum
also was sometimes used in connection with the pebbles as an
accompaniment to this hula.
The ili-ili was at times a hula of intensity—that is to say,
was acted with that stress of voice and manner which the
Hawaiians termed *ai-ha’a*; but it seems to have been more
often performed in that quiet natural tone of voice and of
manner termed *ko’i-honua*, which may be likened to utterance
in low relief.
The author can present only the fragment of a song to
illustrate this hula:
*Mele*
A lalo maua o Wai-pi’o,
Ike i ka nani o Hi’i-lawe.
E lawe mai a oki
I na hala o Naue i ke kai,
5 I na lehua lu-lu’u pali;
Noho ana lohe i ke kani o ka o-ó,
Hoolono aku i ka leo o ke kahuli.
[Translation.]
*Song*
We twain were lodged in Wai-pi’o,
Beheld Hi’i-lawe, the grand.
We brought and cut for our love-wreath
The rich hala drupe from Naue’s strand,
5 Tufted lehua that waves on the cliff;
Then sat and gave ear to song of o-ó,
Or harked the chirp of the tree-shell.
*Wai-pi’o*, the scene of this idyl, is a valley deep and
broad which the elements have scooped out in the windward
exposure of Hawaii, and scarce needs mention to Hawaiian
[Page 121] tourists. Hi’i-lawe is one of several high waterfalls that leap from the world of clouds into the valley-basin.
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE XII
*Kahuli* is a fanciful name applied to the beautiful and
unique genus of tree-shells (Achatinella), plate XII, that
inhabit the Hawaiian woods. The natives are persuaded that
these shells have the power of chirping a song of their own,
and the writer has often heard the note which they ascribe to
them; but to his ear it was indistinguishable from the piping
of the cricket. This is the song that the natives credit to
the tree-shells:
*Mele*
Kahuli aku,
Kahuli mai,
Kahuli lei ula,
Lei akolea.[255]
5 Kolea, kolea,[256]
Ki’i ka wai,
Wai akolea.
[Translation.]
*Song of the Tree-shell*
Trill a-far,
Trill a-near,
A dainty song-wreath,
Wreath akolea.
5 Kolea, Kolea,
Fetch me some dew,
Dew from pink akolea.
This little piece of rustic imagination is said to have been
used in the hula, but in connection with what dance the
author has not been able to learn.
[Footnote 255: The *akolea* is a fern (by some classed as a
Polypodium) which, according to Doctor Hillebrand (Flora of
the Hawaiian Islands), “sustains its extraordinary length by
the circinnate tips which twine round the branches of
neighboring shrubs or trees.”]
[Footnote 256: *Kolea*. The red-breasted plover.]
[Page 122]
XVII.—THE HULA KÁ-ÉKE-ÉKE
The *kaekeeke* was a formal hula worthy of high
consideration. Some authorities assert that the performers in
this dance were chosen from the hoopaa alone, who, it will be
remembered, maintained the kneeling position, while,
according to another authority, the olapa also took part in
it. There is no reason for doubting the sincerity of both
these witnesses. The disagreement probably arose from hasty
generalization. One is reminded of the wise Hawaiian saw,
already noted, “Do not think that your halau holds all the
knowledge.”
This hula took its name from the simple instrument that
formed its musical accompaniment. This consisted of a single
division of the long-jointed bamboo indigenous to Hawaii,
which was left open at one end. (The varieties of bamboo
imported from China or the East Indies have shorter joints
and thicker walls, and will not answer the purpose, being not
sufficiently resonant.) The joints used in the kaekeeke were
of different sizes and lengths, thus producing tones of
various pitch. The performer held one in each hand and the
tone was elicited by striking the base of the cylinder
sharply against the floor or some firm, nonresonant body.
On making actual trial of the kaekeeke, in order to prove by
experience its musical quality and capabilities, the writer’s
pleasure was as great as his surprise when he found it
capable of producing musical tones of great purity and of the
finest quality. Experiment soon satisfied him that for the
best production of the tone it was necessary to strike the
bamboo cylinder smartly upon some firm, inelastic substance,
such as a bag of sand. The tone produced was of crystalline
purity, and by varying the size and length of the cylinders
it proved possible to represent a complete musical scale. The
instrument was the germ of the modern organ.
The first mele to be presented partakes of the nature of the
allegory, a form of composition not a little affected by the
Hawaiians:
*Mele*
A Hamakua au,
Noho i ka ulu hala.
Malihini au i ka hiki ana,
I ka ua pe’epe’e pohaku.
5 Noho oe a li’u-li’u,
A luli-luli malie iho.
[Page 123] He keiki akamai ko ia pali; Elima no pua i ka lima. Kui oe a lawa 10 I lei no ku’u aloha; Malama malie oe i ka makemake, I lei hooheno no ke aloha ole.
Moe oe a ala mai;
Nana iho oe i kou pono.
15 Hai’na ia ka puana:
Keiki noho pali o Hamakua;
A waka-waka, a waka-waka.
[Translation.]
*Song*
It was in Hamakua;
I sat in a grove of Pandanus,
A stranger at my arrival,
A rock was my shelter from rain.
5 I found it a wearisome wait,
Cautiously shifting about.
There’s a canny son of the cliff
That has five buds to his hand.
You shall twine me a wreath of due length,
10 A wreath to encircle my love,
Whilst you hold desire in strong curb,
Till love-touch thaws the cold-hearted.
When you rise from sleep on the mat,
Look down, see the conquest of love.
15 The meaning of this short story?
What child fondly clings to the cliff?
Waka-waka, the shell-fish.
The scene of this idyl, this love-song, *mele hoipoipo*, is
Hamakua, a district on the windward side of Hawaii, subject
to rain-squalls. The poet in his allegory represents himself
as a stranger sitting in a pandanus grove, *ulu hala* (verse
2); sheltering himself from a rain-squall by crouching behind
a rock, *ua pe’epe’e pohaku* (verse 4); shifting about on
account of the veering of the wind, *luli-luli malie iho*
(verse 6). Interpreting this figuratively, Hamakua, no doubt,
is the woman in the case; the grove an emblem of her
personality and physical charms; the rain-squall, of her
changeful moods and passions. The shifting about of the
traveler to meet the veering of the wind would seem to mean
the man’s diplomatic efforts to deal with the woman’s varying
caprices and outbursts.
He now takes up a parable about some creature, a child of the
cliff—Hamakua’s ocean boundary is mostly a precipitous
wall—which he represents as a hand with five buds.
Addressing it as a servant, he bids this creature twine a
[Page 124] wreath sufficient for his love, kui oe a lawa (verse 9), I lei no ku’u aloha (verse 10). This creature with five buds, what is it but the human hand, the errand-carrier of man’s desire, makemake (verse 11)? The pali, by the way, is a figure often used by Hawaiian poets to mean the glory and dignity of the human body.
That is a fine imaginative touch in which the poet
illustrates the power of the human hand to kindle love in one
that is cold-hearted, as if he had declared the hand itself
to be not only the wreath-maker, but the very wreath that is
to encircle and warm into response the unresponsive loved
one, *I lei hooheno no ke aloha ole* (verse 12).
Differences of physical environment, of social convention, of
accepted moral and esthetic standards interpose seemingly
impassable barriers between us and the savage mind, but at
the touch of an all-pervading human sympathy these barriers
dissolve into very thin air.
*Mele*
Kahiki-nui, auwahi[257] ka makani!
Nana aku au ia Kona,
Me ke kua lei ahi[258] la ka moku;
Me ke lawa uli e, la, no
5 Ku’u kai pa-ú hala-ká[259]
I ka lae o Hana-maló;[260]
Me he olohe ili polohiwa,
Ke ku a mauna,
Ma ka ewa lewa[261] Hawaii.
10 Me he ihu leiwi la, ka moku,
Kou mauna, kou palamoa:[262]
Kau a waha mai Mauna-kea[263]
A me Mauna-loa,[263]
Ke ku a Maile-hahéi.[264]
15 Uluna mai Mauna Kilohana[265]
I ka poohiwi o Hu’e-Hu’e.[265]
[Footnote 257: *Auwahi* (a word not found in any dictionary)
is said by a scholarly Hawaiian to be an archaic form of the
word *uwahi*, or *uahi* (milk of fire), smoke, *Kahiki-nui*
is a dry region and the wind (*makani*) often fills the air
with dust.]
[Footnote 258: *Kua lei ahi*. No Hawaiian has been found who
professes to know the true meaning of these words. The
translation of them here given is, therefore, purely formal.]
[Footnote 259: *Pa-ú halaká*. An expression sometimes applied
to the hand when used as a shield to one’s modesty; here it
is said of the ocean (*kai*) when one’s body is immersed in
it.]
[Footnote 260: *Hana-maló*. A cape that lies between Kawaihae
and Kailua in north Kona.]
[Footnote 261: *Ewa lewá*. In this reading the author has
followed the authoritative suggestion of a Hawaiian expert,
substituting it for that first given by another, which was
*elewa*. The latter was without discoverable meaning. Even as
now, given conjectures as to its meaning are at variance. The
one followed presents the less difficulty.]
[Footnote 262: *Palamoa*. The name of a virulent *kupua* that
acted as errand-carrier and agent for sorcerers (_kahuna
ánaaná_); also the name of a beautiful grass found on Hawaii
that has a pretty red seed. Following the line of least
resistance, the latter meaning has been adopted; in it is
found a generic expression for the leafy covering of the
island.]
[Footnote 263: *Mauna-kea* and *Mauna-loa*. The two well-known
mountains of the big island of Hawaii.]
[Footnote 264: *Maile-hahei*. Said to be a hill in Kona.]
[Footnote 265: *Kilohana* and *Hu’e-hu’e*. The names of two
hills in Kona, Hawaii.]
[Page 125]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Kahiki-nui, land of wind-driven smoke!
Mine eyes gaze with longing on Kona;
A fire-wreath glows aback of the district,
And a robe of wonderful green
5 Lies the sea that has aproned my loins
Off the point of Hana-malo.
A dark burnished form is Hawaii,
To one who stands on the mount—
A hamper swung down from heaven,
10 A beautiful carven shape is the island—
Thy mountains, thy splendor of herbage:
Mauna-kea and Loa stand (in glory) apart,
To him who looks from Maile-hahéi;
And Kilohana pillows for rest
15 On the shoulder of Hu’e-hu’e.
This love-song—*mele hoipoipo*—which would be the
despair of a strict literalist—what is it all about? A
lover in Kahiki-nui—of the softer sex, it would appear—
looks across the wind-swept channel and sends her thoughts
lovingly, yearningly, over to Kona of Hawaii, which district
she personifies as her lover. The mountains and plains,
valleys and capes of its landscapes, are to her the parts and
features of her beloved. Even in the ocean that flows between
her and him, and which has often covered her nakedness as
with a robe, she finds a link in the chain of association.
[Page 126]
XVIII.—AN INTERMISSION
During the performance of a hula the halau and all the people
there assembled are under a tabu, the imposition of which was
accomplished by the opening prayer that had been offered
before the altar. This was a serious matter and laid everyone
present under the most formal obligations to commit no breach
of divine etiquette; it even forbade the most innocent
remarks and expressions of emotion. But when the performers,
wearied of the strait-jacket, determined to unbend and
indulge in social amenities, to lounge, gossip, and sing
informal songs, to quaff a social bowl of awa, or to indulge
in an informal dance, they secured the opportunity for this
interlude, by suspending the tabu. This was accomplished by
the utterance of a *pule hoo-noa*, a tabu-lifting prayer. If
the entire force of the tabu was not thus removed, it was at
least so greatly mitigated that the ordinary conversations of
life might be carried on without offense. The pule was
uttered by the kumu or some person who represented the
whole-company:
*Pule Hoo-noa*
Lehua[266] i-luna,
Lehua i-lalo,
A wawae,
A Ka-ulua,[267]
5 A o Haumea,[268]
Kou makua-kane,[269]
Manu o Kaáe;[270]
A-koa-koa,
O Pe-kau,[271]
10 O Pe-ka-nana,[272]
[Page 127] Papa pau. Pau a’e iluna; O Ku-mauna, A me Laka, 15 A me Ku. Ku i ka wao, A me Hina, Huna mele-lani. A ua pau; 20 Pau kakou; A ua noa; Noa ke kahua; Noa!
[Footnote 266: *Lehua*. See plate XIII.]
[Footnote 267: *Ka-ulua*. The name of the third month of the
Hawaiian year, corresponding to late January or February, a
time when In the latitude of Hawaii nature does not refrain
from leafing and flowering.]
[Footnote 268: *Haumea*. The name applied after her death and
apotheosis to Papa, the wife of Wakea, and the ancestress of
the Hawaiian race. (The Polynesian Race, A. Fornander, 1,
205. London, 1878.)]
[Footnote 269: It is doubtful to whom the expression
“makua-kane” refers, possibly to Wakea, the husband of Papa;
and if so, very properly termed father, ancestor, of the
people.]
[Footnote 270: *Manu o Kaáe* (*Manu-o-Kaáe* it might be
written) is said to have been a goddess, one of the family of
Pele, a sister of the sea nymph *Moana-nui-ka-lehua*,
whose dominion was in the waters between Oahu and Kauai. She
is said to have had the gift of eloquence.]
[Footnote 271: *Pe-káu* refers to the ranks and classes of the
gods.]
[Footnote 272: *Pe-ka-naná* refers to men, their ranks and
classes.]
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE XIII
[Translation.]
*Power to Remove Tabu*
Bloom of lehua on altar piled,
Bloom of lehua below,
Bloom of lehua at altar’s base,
In the month Ka-ulua.
5 Present here is Haumea,
And the father of thee,
And the goddess of eloquent speech;
Gather, now gather,
Ye ranks of gods,
10 And ye ranks of men,
Complete in array.
The heavenly service is done,
Service of Ku of the mount,
Service of Laka,
15 And the great god Ku,
Ku of the wilds,
And of Hina,
Hina, the heavenly singer.
Now it is done,
20 Our work is done;
The tabu is lifted,
Free is the place,
Tabu-free!
Here also is another pule hoo-noa, a prayer-song addressed to
Laka, an intercession for the lifting of the tabu. It will be
noticed that the request is implied, not explicitly stated.
All heads are lifted, all eyes are directed heavenward or to
the altar, and the hands with a noiseless motion keep time as
the voices of the company, led by the kumu, in solemn
cantillation, utter the following prayer:
[Page 128]
*Pule Hoo-noa no Laka*
Pupu we’u-we’u[273] e, Láka e,
O kona we’u-we’u e ku-wá;[274]
O Ku-ka-ohia-Laká,[275] e;
Laua me Ku-pulu-pulu;[276]
5 Ka Lehua me ke Koa lau-lii;
O ka Lama me Moku-halii,
Kú-i-kú-i[277] me ka Hala-pepe;
Lakou me Lau-ka-ie-ie,
Ka Palai me Maile-lau-lii.
10 Noa, noa i kou kuahu;
Noa, noa ia oe, Làka;
Pa-pá-lùa noa!
[Translation.]
*Tabu-lifting Prayer (to Laka)*
Oh wildwood bouquet, O Láka!
Set her greenwood leaves in order due;
And Ku, god of Ohia-La-ká,
He and Ku, the shaggy,
5 Lehua with small-leafed Koa,
And Lama and Moku-hali’i,
Kú-i-kú-i and Hála-pé-pé;
And with these leafy I-e-i-e,
Fern and small-leafed Maile.
10 Free, the altar is free!
Free through, you, Laka,
Doubly free!
[Footnote 273: *Pupu we’u-we’u*. A bouquet. The reference is to
the wreaths and floral decorations that bedecked the altar,
and that were not only offerings to the goddess, but symbols
of the diverse forms in which she manifested herself. At the
conclusion of a performance the players laid upon the altar
the garlands they themselves had worn. These were in addition
to those which were placed there before the play began.]
[Footnote 274: *Ku-wá*. It has cost much time and trouble to
dig out the meaning of this word. The fundamental notion is
that contained in its two parts, *ku*, to stand, and *wa*, an
interval or space, the whole meaning to arrange or set in
orderly intervals.]
[Footnote 275: *La-ká*. A Tahitian name for the tree which in
Hawaii is called *lehua*, or *ohia*. In verse 3 the Hawaiian
name *ohia* and the Tahitian *laká* (accented on the final
syllable, thus distinguishing it from the name of the goddess
*Láka*, with which it has no discoverable connection) are
combined in one form as an appellation of the god
*Ku-ku-ka-ohia-Laká*. This is a notable instance of the
survival of a word as a sacred epithet in a liturgy, which
otherwise, had been lost to the language.]
[Footnote 276: *Ku-pulu-pulu*. Ku, the fuzzy or shaggy, a deity
much worshiped by canoe-makers, represented as having the
figure of an old man with a long beard. In the sixth verse
the full form of the god’s name here given as *Moku-ha-li’i*
would be *Ku-moku-hali’i*, the last part being an epithet
applied to *Ku* working in another capacity. *Moku-hali’i* is
the one who bedecks the island. His special emblem, as here
implied, was the *lama*, a beautiful tree, whose wood was
formerly used in making certain sacred inclosures. From this
comes the proper name *Palama*, one of the districts of
Honolulu.]
[Footnote 277: *Kú-i-kú-i*. The same as the tree now called
*ku-kú-i*, the tree whose nuts were used as candles and
flambeaus. The Samoan name of the same tree is *tú-i-tú-i*.]
But even now, when the tabu has been removed and the assembly
is supposed to have assumed an informal character, before
they may indulge themselves in informalities, there remains
to be chanted a dismissing prayer, *pule hooku’u*, in which
all voices must join:
[Page 129]
*Pule Hooku’u*
Ku ka makaia a ka huaka’i moe ipo;[278]
Ku au, hele;
Noho oe, aloha!
Aloha na hale o makou i makamaka ole,
5 Ke alanui hele mauka o Huli-wale,[279] la;
H-u-l-i.
E huli a’e ana i ka makana,
I ke alana ole e kanaenae aku ia oe.
Eia ke kanaenae, o ka leo.
[Translation.]
*Dismissing Prayer*
Doomed sacrifice I in the love-quest,
I stand [loin-girt][280] for the journey;
To you who remain, farewell!
Farewell to our homes forsaken.
5 On the road beyond In-decision,
I turn me about—
Turn me about, for lack of a gift,
An offering, intercession, for thee—
My sole intercession, the voice.
[Footnote 278: A literal translation of the first line would be
as follows: (Here) stands the doomed sacrifice for the
journey in search of a bed-lover.]
[Footnote 279: *Huli-wale*. To turn about, here used as the
name of a place, is evidently intended figuratively to stand
for mental indecision.]
[Footnote 280: The bracketed phrase is not in the text of the
original.]
This fragment—two fragments, in fact, pieced
together—belongs to the epic of Pele. As her little sister,
Hiiaka, is about to start on her adventurous journey to bring
the handsome Prince Lohiau from the distant island of Kauai
she is overcome by a premonition of Pele’s jealousy and
vengeance, and she utters this intercession.
The formalities just described speak for themselves. They
mark better than any comments can do the superstitious
devotion of the old-timers to formalism, their remoteness
from that free touch of social and artistic pleasure, the
lack of which we moderns often lament in our own lives and
sigh for as a lost art, conceiving it to have been once the
possession of “the children of nature.”
The author has already hinted at the form and character of
the entertainments with which hula-folk sometimes beguiled
their professional interludes. Fortunately the author is able
to illustrate by means of a song the very form of
entertainment they provided for themselves on such an
occasion. The following mele, cantillated with an
accompaniment of expressive gesture, is one that was actually
given at an awa-drinking bout indulged in by hula-folk. The
author has an account of its recital at Kahuku, island of
Oahu, so late as the year 1849, during a circuit of that
[Page 130] island made by King Kamehameha III. This mele is reckoned as belonging to the ordinary repertory of the hula; but to which particular form of the dance it was devoted has not been learned:
*Mele*
Ua ona o Kane i ka awa;
Ua kau ke kéha[281] i ka uluna;
Ua hi’o-lani[282] i ka moena.
Kipú mai la i ke kapa o ka noe.
5 Noe-noe na hokú o ka lani—
Imo-imo mai la i ka po a’e-a’e.
Mahana-lua[283] na kukui a Lanikaula,[274]
He kaula no Kane.[285]
Meha na pali o Wai-pi’o
10 I ke kani mau o Kiha-pú;
A ono ole ka awa a ke alii
I ke kani mau o Kiha-pú;
Moe ole kona po o ka Hooilo;
Uluhua, a uluhua,
15 I ka mea nana e huli a loaa
I kela kupua ino i ka pali,
Olali la, a olali.
[Translation.]
*Song*
Kane is drunken with awa;
His head is laid on the pillow;
His body stretched on the mat.
A trumpet sounds through the fog,
5 Dimmed are the stars in the sky;
When the night is clear, how they twinkle!
Lani-kaula’s torches look double,
The torches that burn for Kane.
Ghostly and drear the walls of Waipio
10 At the endless blasts of Kiha-pú.
The king’s awa fails to console him;
’Tis the all-night conching of Kiha-pú.
Broken his sleep the whole winter;
Downcast and sad, sad and downcast,
15 At loss to find a brave hunter
Shall steal the damned conch from the cliff.
Look, how it gleams [through the fog]!
[Footnote 281: *Kéha* is an elegant expression for the side of
the head.]
[Footnote 282: *Hi’o-lani*, literally to turn the side to
heaven, is a classic expression of refinement.]
[Footnote 283: *Mahana-lua*, literally to see double, was an
accepted test of satisfactory drunkenness. It reminds the
author of an expression he once heard used by the comedian
Clarke in the play of Toodles. While in a maudlin state from
liquor he spoke of the lighted candle that was in his hand as
a “double-barreled candle.”]
[Footnote 284: *Lani-kaula* was a prophet who lived on Molokai
at a place that still bears his name. He had his residence in
the midst of a grove of fine kukui trees, the remnants of
which remain to this day. Torches made from the nuts of these
trees were supposed to be of superior quality and they
furnished the illumination for the revelries of Kane and his
fellows.]
[Footnote 285: *He kaula no Kane*. A literal translation would
be, a prophet of Kane.]
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE XIV
[Page 131]
Kane, the chief god of the Hawaiian pantheon, in company with
other immortals, his boon companions, met in revelry on the
heights bounding Wai-pi’o valley. With each potation of awa
they sounded a blast upon their conch-shells, and the racket
was almost continuous from the setting of the sun until
drowsiness overcame them or the coming of day put an end to
their revels.
The tumult of sound made it impossible for the priests to
perform acceptably the offices of religion, and the pious
king, Liloa, was distressed beyond measure. The whole valley
was disturbed and troubled with forebodings at the suspension
of divine worship.
The chief offender was Kane himself. The trumpet which he
held to his lips was a conch of extraordinary size (pl. XIV)
and credited with a divine origin and the possession of
supernatural power; its note was heard above all the others.
This shell, the famed Kiha-pú, had been stolen from the heiau
of Paka’a-lána, Liloa’s temple in Waipi’o valley, and after
many adventures had come into the hands of god Kane, who used
it, as we see, for the interruption of the very services that
were intended for his honor.
The relief from this novel and unprecedented situation came
from an unexpected quarter. King Liloa’s awa-patches were
found to be suffering from the nocturnal visits of a thief. A
watch was set; the thief proved to be a dog, Puapua-lenalena,
whose master was a confirmed awa-toper. When master and dog
were brought into the presence of King Liloa, the shrewd
monarch divined the remarkable character of the animal, and
at his suggestion the dog was sent on the errand which
resulted in the recovery by stealth of the famed conch
Kiha-pú. As a result of his loss of the conch, Kane put an
end to his revels, and the valley of Wai-pi’o again had
peace.
This mele is an admirable specimen of Hawaiian poetry, and
may be taken as representative of the best product of
Hawaii’s classical period. The language is elegant and
concise, free from the redundancies that so often load down
Hawaiian compositions. No one, it is thought, will deny to
the subject-matter of this mele an unusual degree of
interest.
There is a historic side to the story of the conch-shell
Kiha-pú. Not many years ago the Hawaiian Museum contained an
ethnological specimen of great interest, the conch-shell
Kiha-pú. It was fringed, after the fashion of a witch-doll,
with strings, beads, and wampumlike bits of mother-of-pearl,
and had great repute as a *kupua* or luckbringer. King
Kalakaua, who affected a sentimental leaning to the notions
of his mother’s race, took possession of this famous “curio”
and it disappeared from public view.
[Page 132]
XIX.—THE HULA NIAU-KANI
The hula *niau-kani* was one of the classic dances of the
halau, and took its name from the musical instrument that was
its accompaniment. This was a simple, almost extemporaneous,
contrivance, constructed, like the Jew’s-harp, on the
principle of a reed instrument. It was made of two parts, a
broad piece of bamboo with a longitudinal slit at one end and
a thin narrow piece of the same material, the reed, which was
held firmly against the fenestra on the concave side of part
number one. The convexity of the instrument was pressed
against the lips and the sound was produced by projecting
the breath through the slit in a speaking or singing tone in
such a way as to cause vibrations in the reed. The manner of
constructing and operating this reed instrument is suggestive
of the jew’s-harp. It is asserted by those who should know
that the niau-kani was an instrument of purely Hawaiian
invention.
The performer did not depend simply upon the musical tone,
but rather upon the modification it produced in the
utterances that were strained through it. It would certainly
require a quick ear, much practice, and a thorough
acquaintance with the peculiarities of Hawaiian mele to
enable one to distinguish the words of a song after being
transformed by passage through the niau-kani.
As late as about thirty or forty years ago the niau-kani was
often seen in the hands of the native Hawaiian youth, who
used it as a means of romantic conversations and flirtation.
Since the coming in of the Portuguese and their importation
of the *uku-lele*, the *taro-patch-fiddle*, and other cheap
stringed instruments, the niau-kani has left the field to
them and disappeared.
The author’s informant saw the niau-kani dance performed some
years ago at Moana-lua, near Honolulu, and again on the
island of Kauai. The dance in each case was the same. The
kumu, aided by a pupil, stood and played on the niau-kani,
straining the cantillations through the reed-protected
aperture, while the olapa, girls, kept time to the music with
the movements of their dancing,
[Page 133]
*Mele*
E pi’i ka wai ka nahele,
U’ina, nakolo i na Molo-kama;[286]
Ka ua lele mawaho o Mamala-hoa.
He manao no ko’u e ike
5 I na pua ohi’a o Kupa-koili,[287]
I hoa kaunu no Manu’a-kepa;[288]
Ua like laua me Maha-moku.[289]
Anapa i ke kai o Mono-lau.[290]
Lalau ka lima a noa ia ia la,
10 I hoa pili no Lani-huli.[291]
E huli oe i ku’u makemake,
A loa’a i Kau-ka-opua.[292]
Elua no pua kau
A ka manao i makemake ai.
15 Hoohihi oe a hihi
I lei kohu no neia kino.
Ahea oe hiki mai?
A kau ka La i na pali;[293]
Ka huli a ka makani Wai-a-ma’o,[294]
20 Makemake e iki ia ka Hala-mapu-ana,
Ka wai halana i Wai-pá.[295]
NOTE.—The proper names belong to localities along the course
of the Wai-oli stream.
[Footnote 286: *Molokama* (more often given as *Na Molo-kama*).
The name applied to a succession of falls made by the stream
far up in the mountains. The author has here used a
versifier’s privilege, compressing this long word into
somewhat less refractory shape.]
[Footnote 287: *Kupa-koili*. A grove of mountain-apples, _ohia
ai_, that stand on the bank of the stream not far from the
public road.]
[Footnote 288: *Manu’a-kepa*. A sandy, grass-covered meadow on
the opposite side of the river from Kupa-koili.]
[Footnote 289: *Maha-moku*. A sandy beach near the mouth of the
river, on the same bank as Manu’a-kepa.]
[Footnote 290: *Mono-lau*. That part of the bay into which the
river flows, that is used as an anchorage for vessels.]
[Footnote 291: *Lani-huli*. The side of the valley Kilauea of
Wai-oli toward which the river makes a bend before it enters
the ocean.]
[Footnote 292: *Kau-ka-opua*. Originally a phrase meaning “the
cloud-omen hangs,” has come to be used as the proper name of
a place. It is an instance of a form of personification often
employed by the Hawaiians, in which words having a specific
meaning—such, for instance, as our “jack-in-the-box”—have
come to be used as a noun for the sake of the meaning wrapped
up in the etymology. This figure of speech is, no doubt,
common to all languages, markedly so in the Hawaiian. It may
be further illustrated by the Hebrew name Ichabod—“his glory
has departed.”]
[Footnote 293: *A kau ka La, i na pali*. When stands the sun
o’er the pali, evening or late in the afternoon. On this part
of Kauai the sun sets behind the mountains.]
[Footnote 294: *Wai-a-ma’o*. The land-breeze, which sometimes
springs up at night.]
[Footnote 295: *Wai-pá*. A spot on the bank of the stream where
grew a pandanus tree, *hala*, styled *Ka-hala-mapu-ana*, the
hala-breathing-out-its-fragrance.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Up to the streams in the wildwood,
Where rush the falls Molo-kama,
While the rain sweeps past Mala-hoa,
I had a passion to visit
5 The forest of bloom at Koili,
[Page 134] To give love-caress to Manu’a, And her neighbor Maha-moku, And see the waters flash at Mono-lau; My hand would quiet their rage, 10 Would sidle and touch Lani-huli. Grant me but this one entreaty, We’ll meet ’neath the omens above. Two flowers there are that bloom In your garden of being; 15 Entwine them into a garland, Fit emblem and crown of our love. And what the hour of your coming? When stands the Sun o’er the pali, When turns the breeze of the land, 20 To breathe the perfume of hala, While the currents swirl at Wai-pá.
This mele is the language of passion, a song in which the
lover frankly pours into the ear of his inamorata the story
of his love up to the time of his last enthrallment. Verses
11, 12, and 17 are the language of the woman. The scene is
laid in the rainy valley of Hanalei, Kauai, a broad and deep
basin, to the finishing of which the elements have
contributed their share. The rush and roar of the waters that
unite to form the river Wai-oli, from their wild tumbling in
the falls of Molo-kama till they pass the river’s mouth and
mingle with the flashing waves of the ocean at Mono-lau,
*Anapa i ke kai o Mono-lau* (verse 8), are emblematic of the
man’s passion and his quest for satisfaction.
[Page 135]
XX.—THE HULA OHE
The action of the hula *ohe* had some resemblance to one of
the figures of the Virginia reel. The dancers, ranged in two
parallel rows, moved forward with an accompaniment of
gestures until the head of each row had reached the limit in
that direction, and then, turning outward to right and left,
countermarched in the same manner to the point of starting,
and so continued to do. They kept step and timed their
gestures and movements to the music of the bamboo nose-flute,
the *ohe*.
In a performance of this hula witnessed by an informant the
chorus of dancers was composed entirely of girls, while the
kumu operated the nose-flute and at the same time led the
cantillation of the mele. This seemed an extraordinary
statement, and the author challenged the possibility of a
person blowing with the nose into a flute and at the same
time uttering words with the mouth. The Hawaiian asserted,
nevertheless, that, the leader of the hula, the kumu, did
accomplish these two functions; yet his answer did not remove
doubt that they were accomplished jointly and at the same
time. The author is inclined to think that the kumu performed
the two actions alternately.
The musical range of the nose-flute was very limited; it had
but two or, at the most, three stops. The player with his
left hand held the flute to the nostril, at the same time
applying a finger of the same hand to keep the other nostril
closed. With the fingers of his right hand he operated the
stops (pl. xv).
*Mele*
E pi’ i ka nahele,
E ike ia Ka-wai-kini,[296]
Nana ia Pihaua-ka-lani,[297]
[Page 136] I kela manu hulu ma’e-ma’e,[298] 5 Noho pu me Ka-hale-lehua, Punahele ia Kaua-kahi-alii.[299] E Kaili,[300] e Kaili, e! E Kaili, lau o ke koa, E Kaili, lau o ke koa, 10 Moopuna a Hooipo-i-ka-Malanai,[301] Hiwa-hiwa a ka Lehua-wehe![302] Aia ka nani i Wai-ehu, I ka wai kaili puuwai o ka makemake. Makemake au i ke kalukalu o Kewá,[303] 15 E he’e ana i ka nalu o Maka-iwa. He iwa-iwa oe na ke aloha, I Wai-lua nui hoano. Ano-ano ka hale, aohe kanaka, Ua la’i oe no ke one o Ali-ó. 20 Aia ka ipo i ka nahele.
[Footnote 296: *Ka-wai-kini*. The name of a rocky bluff that
stands on the side of Mount Wai-ale-ale, looking to Wailua.
It as said to divide the flow from the great morass, the
natural reservoir formed by the hollow at the top of the
mountain, turning a part of it in the direction of Wai-niha,
a valley not far from Hanalei, which otherwise would, it is
said by Hawaiians, go to swell the stream that forms the
Wailua river. This rock, in the old times, was regarded as a
demigod, a *kupua*, and had a lover who resided in Wai-lua,
also another who resided in the mountains. The words in the
first two or three verses may be taken as if they were the
utterance of this Wai-lua lover, saying “I will go up and see
my sweetheart Ka-wai-kini.”]
[Footnote 297: *Pihana-ka-lani*. Literally, the fullness of
heaven. This was a forest largely of lehua that covered the
mountain slope below Ka-wai-kini. It seems as if the purpose
of its mention was to represent the beauties and charms of
the human body. In this romantic region lived the famous
mythological princes—*alii kupua*, the Hawaiians called
them—named *Kaua-kahi-alii* and *Aiwohi-kupua*, with their
princess sister *Ka-hale-lehua*. The second name mentioned
was the one who married the famous heroine of the romantic
story of *Laie-i-ka-wai*.]
[Footnote 298: *Manu hulu ma’ema’e*. An allusion to the great
number of plumage birds that were reputed to be found in this
place.]
[Footnote 299: *Puna-hele ia Kaua-kahi-alii*. The birds of the
region are said to have been on very intimate and friendly
terms with Kaua-kahi-alii. (See note *b*, p. 135.)]
[Footnote 300: *Kaili*. The full form is said to be
*Ka-ili-lau-o-ke-koa*—Skin-like-the-leaf-of-the-koa. In the
text of the mele this name is analyzed into its parts and
written as if the phrase at the end were an appellative and
not an integral part of the name itself. This was a mythical
character of unusual beauty, a person of superhuman power,
*kupua*, a mistress of the art of surf-riding, which passion
she indulged in the waters about Wai-lua.]
[Footnote 301: *Hooipo-i-ka-Malanai*. A mythical princess of
Wailua, the grandmother of Kaili. This oft-quoted phrase,
literally meaning to make love in the (gently-blowing)
trade-wind, has become almost a stock expression, standing
for romantic love, or love-making.]
[Footnote 302: *Lehua-wehe*. The piece of ocean near the mouth
of the Wailua river in which Kaili indulged her passion for
surf-riding.]
[Footnote 303: *Kalu-kalu o Kewá*. *Kalu-kalu* may mean a
species of soft, smooth grass specially fitted for sliding
upon, which flourished on the inclined plain of Kewá, Kauai.
One would sit upon a mat, the butt end of a coconut leaf, or
a sled, while another dragged it along. The Hawaiian name for
this sport is *pahe’e*. *Kalu-kalu* is also the name applied
to “a very thin gauze-like kapa.” (See Andrews’s Hawaiian
Dictionary.) If we suppose the poet to have clearly intended
the first meaning, the figure does not tally with the
following verse, the fifteenth. Verses 14 and 15 would thus
be made to read:
I desire the kalu-kalu (grass) of Kewá,
That is riding the surf of Maka-iwa.
This is an impossible figure and makes no sense. If, on the
other hand, we take another version and conceive that the
bard had in mind the gauze-like robe of *kalu-kalu*—using
this, of course, as a figure for the person clad in such a
robe—the rendering I have given,
I pine for the sylph, robed in gauze,
Who rides the surf Maka-iwa,
would not only make a possible, but a poetic, picture. Let
the critical reader judge which of these two versions hits
closer to common sense and probability.]
[Translation.]
*Song.*
Come up to the wildwood, come;
Let us visit Wai-kini,
And gaze on Pihána-ka-lani,
[Page 137] Its birds of plumage so fine; 5 Be comrade to Hale-lehua, Soul-mate to Kau’kahi-alii. O, Kaili, Kaili! Kaili, leaf of the koa, Graceful as leaf of the koa, 10 Granddaughter of goddess, Whose name is the breath of love, Darling of blooming Lehua. My lady rides with the gray foam, On the surge that enthralls the desire. 15 I pine for the sylph robed in gauze, Who rides on the surf Maka-iwa— Aye, cynosure thou of all hearts, In all of sacred Wailua. Forlorn and soul-empty the house; 20 You pleasure on the beach Ali-ó; Your love is up here in the wildwood.
This mele hoipoipo, love-song, like the one previously given,
is from Kauai. The proper names that abound in it, whether of
places, of persons, or of winds, seem to have been mostly of
Kauaian origin, furnished by its topography, its myths and
legends. They have, however, become the common property of
the whole group through having been interwoven in the
national songs that pass current from island to island.
[Page 138]
XXI.—THE MUSIC AND MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS OF THE HAWAIIANS
A bird is easier captured than the notes of a song. The
*mele* and *oli* of Hawaii’s olden time have been preserved
for us; but the music to which they were chanted, a less
perdurable essence, has mostly exhaled. In the sudden
transition from the tabu system to the new order of things
that came in with the death of Kamehameha in 1819, the old
fashion of song soon found itself antiquated and
outdistanced. Its survival, so far as it did survive, was
rather as a memorial and remembrance of the past than as a
register of the living emotions of the present.
The new music, with its *pa, ko, li*—answering to our do,
re, mi[304]—was soon in everybody’s mouth. From the first it
was evidently destined to enact a role different from that of
the old cantillation; none the less the musical ideas that
came in with it, the air of freedom from tabu and priestcraft
it breathed, and the diatonic scale, the highway along which
it marched to conquest, soon produced a noticeable reaction
in all the musical efforts of the people. This new seed, when
it had become a vigorous plant, began to push aside the old
indigenous stock, to cover it with new growths, and,
incredible as it may seem, to inoculate it with its own
pollen, thus producing a cross which to-day is accepted in
certain quarters as the genuine article of Hawaiian song.
Even now, the people of northwestern America are listening
with demonstrative interest to songs which they suppose to be
those of the old hula, but which in reality have no more
connection with that institution than our negro minstrelsy
has to do with the dark continent.
[Footnote 304: The early American missionaries to Hawaii named
the musical notes of the scale *pa, ko, li, ha, no, la, mi*.]
The one regrettable fact, from a historical point of view, is
that a record was not made of indigenous Hawaiian song before
this process of substitution and adulteration had begun. It
is no easy matter now to obtain the data for definite
knowledge of the subject.
While the central purpose of this chapter will be a study of
the music native to old Hawaii, and especially of that
produced in the halau, Hawaiian music of later times and of
the present day can not be entirely neglected; nor will it be
without its value for the indirect light it will shed on
ancient conditions and on racial characteristics. The
reaction that has taken place in Hawaii within historic times
in response to the stimulus from abroad can not fail to be of
[Page 139] interest in itself.
There is a peculiarity of the Hawaiian speech which can not
but have its effect in determining the lyric tone-quality of
Hawaiian music; this is the predominance of vowel and labial
sounds in the language. The phonics of Hawaiian speech, we
must remember, lack the sounds represented by our alphabetic
symbols *b, c* or *s, d, f, g, j, q, x*, and *z*—a poverty
for which no richness in vowel sounds can make amends. The
Hawaiian speech, therefore, does not call into full play the
uppermost vocal cavities to modify and strengthen, or refine,
the throat and mouth tones of the speaker and to give reach
and emphasis to his utterances. When he strove for dramatic
and passional effect, he did not make his voice resound in
the topmost cavities of the voice-trumpet, but left it to
rumble and mutter low down in the throat-pipe, thus producing
a feature that colors Hawaiian musical recitation.
This feature, or mannerism, as it might be called, specially
marks Hawaiian music of the bombastic bravura sort in modern
times, imparting to it in its strife for emphasis a sensual
barbaric quality. It can be described further only as a
gurgling throatiness, suggestive at times of ventriloquism,
as if the singer were gloating over some wild physical
sensation, glutting his appetite of savagery, the meaning of
which is almost as foreign to us and as primitive as are the
mewing of a cat, the gurgling of an infant, and the snarl of
a mother-tiger. At the very opposite pole of development from
this throat-talk of the Hawaiian must we reckon the
highly-specialized tones of the French speech, in which we
find the nasal cavities are called upon to do their full
share in modifying the voice-sounds.
The vocal execution of Hawaiian music, like the recitation of
much of their poetry, showed a surprising mastery of a
certain kind of technique, the peculiarity of which was a
sustained and continuous outpouring of the breath to the end
of a certain period, when the lungs again drank their fill.
This seems to have been an inheritance from the old religious
style of prayer-recitation, which required the priest to
repeat the whole incantation to its finish with the outpour
of one lungful of breath. Satisfactory utterance of those old
prayer-songs of the Aryans, the *mantras*, was conditioned
likewise on its being a one-breath performance. A logical
analogy may be seen between all this and that unwritten law,
or superstition, which made it imperative for the heroes and
demigods, *kupua*, of Hawaii’s mythologic age to discontinue
any unfinished work on the coming of daylight.[305]
[Footnote 305: The author can see no reason for supposing that
this prolonged utterance had anything to do with that Hindoo
practice belonging to the *yoga*, the exercise of which
consists in regulating the breath.]
[Page 140] When one listens for the first time to the musical utterance of a Hawaiian poem, it may seem only a monotonous onflow of sounds faintly punctuated by the primary rhythm that belongs to accent, but lacking those milestones of secondary rhythm which set a period to such broader divisions as distinguish rhetorical and musical phrasing. Further attention will correct this impression and show that the Hawaiians paid strict attention not only to the lesser rhythm which deals with the time and accent of the syllable, but also to that more comprehensive form which puts a limit to the verse.
With the Hawaiians musical phrasing was arranged to fit the
verse of the mele, not to express a musical idea. The
cadencing of a musical phrase in Hawaiian song was marked by
a peculiarity all its own. It consisted of a prolonged
trilling or fluctuating movement called *i’i*, in which the
voice went up and down in a weaving manner, touching the main
note that formed the framework of the melody, then springing
away from it for some short interval—a half of a step, or
even some shorter interval—like an electrified pith-ball,
only to return and then spring away again and again until the
impulse ceased. This was more extensively employed in the oil
proper, the verses of which were longer drawn out, than in
the mele such as formed the stock pieces of the hula. These
latter were generally divided into shorter verses.
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS
The musical instruments of the Hawaiians included many
classes, and their study can not fail to furnish substantial
data for any attempt to estimate the musical performances,
attainments, and genius of the people.
Of drums, or drumlike instruments of percussion, the
Hawaiians had four:
1. The *pahu*, or *pahu-hula* (pl. x), was a section of
hollowed log. Breadfruit and coconut were the woods generally
used for this purpose. The tough skin of the shark was the
choice for the drumhead, which was held in place and kept
tense by tightening cords of coconut fiber, that passed down
the side of the cylinder.
The workmanship of the pahu, though rude, was of tasteful
design. So far as the author has studied them, each pahu was
constructed with a diaphragm placed about two-thirds the
distance from the head, obtained by leaving in place a cross
drum-cavity proper, after the fashion of the kettledrum. The
lower part of the drum also was hollowed out and carved, as
will be seen in the illustration. In the carving of all the
specimens examined the artists have shown a notable fondness
for a fenestrated design representing a series of arches,
[Page 141] after the fashion of a two-storied arcade, the haunch of the superimposed arch resting directly on the crown of that below. In one case the lower arcade was composed of Roman,-while the upper was of Gothic, arches. The grace of the design and the manner of its execution are highly pleasing, and suggest the inquiry, Whence came the opportunity for this intimate study of the arch?
The tone of the pahu was produced by striking its head with
the finger-tips, or with the palm of the hand; never with a
stick, so far as the writer has been able to learn. Being
both heavy and unwieldly, it was allowed to rest upon the
ground, and, if used alone, was placed to the front of the
operator; if sounded in connection with the instrument next
to be mentioned, it stood at his left side.
The pahu, if not the most original, was the most important
instrument used in connection with the hula. The drum, with
its deep and solemn tones, is an instrument of recognized
efficiency in its power to stir the heart to more vigorous
pulsations, and in all ages it has been relied upon as a
means of inspiring emotions of mystery, awe, terror,
sublimity, or martial enthusiasm.
Tradition of the most direct sort ascribes the introduction
of the pahu to La’a—generally known as La’a-mai-Kahiki
(La’a-from-Kahiki)—a prince who flourished about six
centuries ago. He was of a volatile, adventurous disposition,
a navigator of some renown, having made the long voyage
between Hawaii and the archipelagoes in the southern
Pacific—Kahiki—not less than twice in each direction. On
his second arrival from the South he brought with him the big
drum, the pahu, which he sounded as he skirted the coast
quite out to sea, to the wonder and admiration of the natives
on the land. La’a, being of an artistic temperament and an
ardent patron of the hula, at once gave the divine art of
Laka the benefit of this newly imported instrument. He
traveled from place to place, instructing the teachers and
inspiring them with new ideals. It was he also who introduced
into the hula the kaékeéke as an instrument of music.
2. The *pu-niu* (pl. XVI) was a small drum made from the
shell of a coconut. The top part, that containing the eyes,
was removed, and the shell having been smoothed and polished,
the opening was tightly covered with the skin of some
scaleless fish—that of the *kala* (Acanthurus unicornis) was
preferred. A venerable kumu-hula states that it was his
practice to use only the skin taken from the right side of
the fish, because he found that it produced a finer quality
of sound than that of the other side. The Hawaiian mind was
very insistent on little matters of this sort—the mint,
anise, and cummin of their system. The drumhead was stretched
and placed in position while moist and flexible, and was then
made fast to a ring-shaped cushion—*poaha*—of fiber or tapa
that hugged the base of the shell.
[Page 142] The Hawaiians sometimes made use of the clear gum of the kukui tree to aid in fixing the drumhead in place.
When in use the pu-niu was lashed to the right thigh for the
convenience of the performer, who played upon it with a thong
of braided fibers held in his right hand (fig. 2), his left
thus being free to manipulate the big drum that stood on the
other side.
Of three pu-niu in the author’s collection, one, when struck,
gives off the sound of c̅ below the staff; another that of
c̅♯ below the staff, and a third that of c̿♯ in the
staff.
While the grand vibrations of the pahu filled the air with
their solemn tremor, the lighter and sharper tones of the
pu-niu gave a piquancy to the effect, adding a feature which
may be likened to the sparkling ripples which the breeze
carves in the ocean’s swell.
3. The *ipu* or *ipu-hula* (pl. VII), though not strictly a
drum, was a drumlike instrument. It was made by joining
closely together two pear-shaped gourds of large size in such
fashion as to make a body shaped like a figure 8. An opening
was made in the upper end of the smaller gourd to give exit
to the sound. The cavities of the two gourds were thrown into
one, thus making a single column of air, which, in vibration,
gave off a note of clear bass pitch. An ipu of large size in
the author’s collection emits the tone of c in the bass.
Though of large volume, the tone is of low intensity and has
small carrying power.
For ease in handling, the ipu is provided about its waist
with a loop of cord or tapa, by which device the performer
was enabled to manipulate this bulky instrument with one
hand. The instrument was sounded by dropping or striking it
with well-adjusted force against the padded earth-floor of
the Hawaiian house.
The manner and style of performing on the ipu varied with the
sentiment of the mele, a light and caressing action when the
feeling was sentimental or pathetic, wild and emphatic when
the subject was such as to stir the feelings with enthusiasm
and passion.
Musicians inform us that the drum—exception is made in the
case of the snare and the kettle drum—is an instrument in
which the pitch is a matter of comparative indifference, its
function being to mark the time and emphasize the rhythm.
[Page 143] There are other elements, it would seem, that must be taken into the account in estimating the value of the drum. Attention may be directed first to its tone-character, the quality of its note which touches the heart in its own peculiar way, moving it to enthusiasm or bringing it within the easy reach of awe, fear, and courage. Again, while, except in the orchestra, the drum and other instruments of percussion may require no exact pitch, still this does not necessarily determine their effectiveness. The very depth and gravity of its pitch, made pervasive by its wealth of overtones, give to this primitive instrument a weird hold on the emotions.
This combination of qualities we find well illustrated in the
pahu and the ipu, the tones of which range in the lower
registers of the human voice. The tone-character of the
pu-niu, on the other hand, is more subdued, yet lively and
cheerful, by reason in part of the very sharpness of its
pitch, and thus affords an agreeable offset to the solemnity
of the other two.
Ethnologically the pahu is of more world-wide interest than
any other member of its class, being one of many varieties of
the kettle-drum that are to be found scattered among the
tribes of the Pacific, all of them, perhaps, harking back to
Asiatic forbears, such as the tom-tom of the Hindus.
The sound of the pahu carries one back in imagination to the
dread sacrificial drum of the Aztec teocallis and the wild
kettles of the Tartar hordes. The drum has cruel and bloody
associations. When listening to its tones one can hardly put
away a thought of the many times they have been used to drown
the screams of some agonized creature.
For more purely local interest, inventive originality, and
simplicity, the round-bellied ipu takes the palm, a
contrivance of strictly Hawaiian, or at least Polynesian,
ingenuity. It is an instrument of fascinating interest, and
when its crisp rind puts forth its volume of sound one finds
his imagination winging itself back to the mysterious caverns
of Hawaiian mythology.
The gourd, of which the ipu is made, is a clean vegetable
product of the fields and the garden, the gift of
Lono-wahine—unrecognized daughter of mother Ceres—and is
free from all cruel alliances. No bleating lamb was
sacrificed to furnish parchment for its drumhead. Its
associations are as innocent as the pipes of Pan.
4. The *ka-éke-éke*, though not drumlike in form, must be
classed as an instrument of percussion from the manner of
eliciting its note. It was a simple joint of bamboo, open at
one end, the other end being left closed with the diaphragm
provided by nature. The tone is produced by striking the
closed end of the cylinder, while held in a vertical
position, with a sharp blow against some solid, nonresonant
body, such as the matted earth floor of the old Hawaiian
[Page 144] house. In the author’s experiments with the kaékeéke an excellent substitute was found in a bag filled with sand or earth.
In choosing bamboo for the kaékeéke it is best to use a
variety which is thin-walled and long-jointed, like the
indigenous Hawaiian varieties, in preference to such as come
from the Orient, all of which are thick-walled and
short-jointed, and therefore less resonant than the Hawaiian.
The performer held a joint in each hand, the two being of
different sizes and lengths, thus producing tones of diverse
pitch. By making a proper selection of joints it would be
possible to obtain a set capable of producing a perfect
musical scale. The tone of the kaékeéke is of the utmost
purity and lacks only sustained force and carrying power to
be capable of the best effects.
An old Hawaiian once informed the writer that about the year
1850, in the reign of Kamehameha III, he was present at a
hula kaékeéke given in the royal palace in Honolulu. The
instrumentalists numbered six, each one of whom held two
bamboo joints. The old man became enthusiastic as he
described the effect produced by their performance, declaring
it to have been the most charming hula he ever witnessed.
5. The *úli-ulí* (pl. XI) consisted of a small gourd of the
size of one’s two fists, into which were introduced shotlike
seeds, such as those of the canna. In character it was a
rattle, a noise-instrument pure and simple, but of a tone by
no means disagreeable to the ear, even as the note produced
by a woodpecker drumming on a log is not without its
pleasurable effect on the imagination.
The illustration of the úliulí faithfully pictured by the
artist reproduces a specimen that retains the original
simplicity of the instrument before the meretricious taste of
modern times tricked it out with silks and feathers. (For a
further description of this instrument, see p. 107.)
6. The *pu-íli* was also a variety of the rattle, made by
splitting a long joint of bamboo for half its length into
slivers, every alternate sliver being removed to give the
remaining ones greater freedom and to make their play the one
upon the other more lively. The tone is a murmurous breezy
rustle that resembles the notes of twigs, leaves, or reeds
struck against one another by the wind—not at all an
unworthy imitation of nature-tones familiar to the Hawaiian
ear.
The performers sat in two rows facing each other, a position
that favored mutual action, in which each row of actors
struck their instruments against those of the other side, or
tossed them back and forth. (For further account of the
manner in which the puili was used in the hula of the same
name, see p. 113.)
7. The *laau* was one of the noise-instruments used in the
hula. It consisted of two sticks of hard resonant wood, the
[Page 145] smaller of which was struck against the larger, producing a clear xylophonic note. While the pitch of this instrument is capable of exact determination, it does not seem that there was any attempt made at adjustment. A laau in the author’s collection, when struck, emits tones the predominant one of which is d̅ (below the staff).
8. The *ohe*, or *ohe-hano-ihu* (fig. 3), is an instrument of
undoubted antiquity. In every instance that has come under
the author’s observation the material has been, as its
name—*ohe*—signifies, a simple joint of bamboo, with an
embouchure placed about half an inch from the closed end,
thus enabling the player to supply the instrument with air
from his right nostril. In every nose-flute examined there
have been two holes, one 2 or 3 inches away from the
embouchure, the older about a third of the distance from the
open end of the flute.
The musician with his left hand holds the end of the pipe
squarely against his lip, so that the right nostril slightly
overlaps the edge of the embouchure. The breath is projected
into the embouchure with modulated force. A nose-flute in the
author’s collection with the lower hole open produces the
sound of [=f]♯; with both holes unstopped it emits the sound
[==a]; and when both holes are stopped it produces the sound
of c̿♯, a series of notes which are the tonic, mediant,
and dominant of the chord of F♯ minor.
An ohe played by an old Hawaiian named Keaonaloa, an inmate
of the Lunalilo Home, when both holes were stopped sounded
[=f]; with the lower hole open it sounded [==a], and when
both holes were open it sounded [===c].
The music made by Keaonaloa with his ohe was curious, but not
soul-filling. We must bear in mind, however, that it was
intended only as an accompaniment to a poetical recitation.
Some fifty or sixty years ago it was not uncommon to see
bamboo flutes of native manufacture in the hands of Hawaiian
musicians of the younger generation. These instruments were
avowedly imitations of the D-flute imported from abroad. The
idea of using bamboo for this purpose must have been
suggested by its previous use in the nose-flute.
“The tonal capacity of the Hawaiian nose-flute,” says Miss
Jennie Elsner, “which has nothing harsh and strident about
it, embraces five tones, [=f] and [==g] in the middle
[Page 146] register, and [==f], [=g], and [==a] an octave above. These flutes are not always pitched to the same key, varying half a tone or so.” On inquiring of the native who kindly furnished the following illustrations, he stated that he had bored the holes of his ohe without much measurement, trusting to his intuitions and judgment.
I—Range of the Nose-flute
[Music]
The player began with a slow, strongly accented, rhythmical
movement, which continued to grow more and more intricate.
Rhythmical diminution continued in a most astounding manner
until a frenzied climax was reached; in other words, until
the player’s breath-capacity was exhausted.
A peculiar effect, as of several instruments being used at
the same time, was produced by the two lower tones being
thrown in wild profusion, often apparently simultaneously
with one of the upper tones. As the tempo in any one of these
increased, the rhythm was lost sight of and a peculiar
syncopated effect resulted.[306]
[Footnote 306: The writer is indebted to Miss Elsner not only
for the above comments but for the following score which she
has cleverly arranged as a sample of nose-flute music
II—Music from the Nose-flute
Arranged by JENNIE ELSNER
[Music]
9. The *pu-á* was a whistle-like instrument. It was made from
a gourd of the size of a lemon, and was pierced with three
holes, or sometimes only two, one for the nose, by which it
[Page 147] was blown, while the others were controlled by the fingers. This instrument has been compared to the Italian ocarina.
10. The *íli-íli* was a noise-instrument pure and simple. It
consisted of two pebbles that were held in the hand and
smitten together, after the manner of castanets, in time to
the music of the voices. (See p. 120.)
11. The *niau-kani*—singing splinter—was a reed-instrument
of a rude sort, made by holding a reed of thin bamboo against
a slit cut out in a larger piece of bamboo. This was applied
to the mouth, and the voice being projected against it
produced an effect similar to that of the Jew’s harp. (See p.
132.)
12. Even still more extemporaneous and rustic than any of
these is a modest contrivance called by the Hawaiians
*pú-la-í*. It is nothing more than a ribbon torn from the
green leaf of the *ti* plant, say three-quarters of an inch
to an inch in width by 5 or 6 inches long, and rolled up
somewhat after the manner of a lamplighter, so as to form a
squat cylinder an inch or more in length. This was compressed
to flatten it. Placed between the lips and blown into with
proper force, it emits a tone of pure reedlike quality, that
varies in pitch, according to the size of the whistle, from G
in the middle register to a shrill piping note more than an
octave above.
The hula girl who showed this simple device offered it in
answer to reiterated inquiries as to what other instruments,
besides those of more formal make already described, the
Hawaiians were wont to use in connection with their informal
rustic dances. “This,” said she, “was sometimes used as an
accompaniment to such informal dancing as was indulged in
outside the halau.” This little rustic pipe, quickly
improvised from the leaf that every Hawaiian garden supplies,
would at once convert any skeptic to a belief in the pipes of
god Pan.
13. The *ukeké*, the one Hawaiian instrument of its class, is
a mere strip of wood bent into the shape of a bow that its
elastic force may keep tense the strings that are stretched
upon it. These strings, three in number, were originally of
sinnet, later after the arrival of the white man, of
horsehair. At the present time it is the fashion to use the
ordinary gut designed for the violin or the taro-patch
guitar. Every ukeké seen followed closely a conventional
pattern, which, argues for the instrument a historic age
sufficient to have gathered about itself some degree of
traditional reverence. One end of the stick is notched or
provided with holes to hold the strings, while the other end
is wrought into a conventional figure resembling the tail of
a fish and serves as an attachment about which to wind the
free ends of the strings.
No ukeké seen by the author was furnished with pins, pegs, or
any similar device to facilitate tuning. Nevertheless, the
[Page 148] musician does tune his ukeké, as the writer can testify from his own observation. This Hawaiian musician was the one whose performances on the nose-flute are elsewhere spoken of. When asked to give a sample of his playing on the ukeké, he first gave heed to his instrument as if testing whether it was in tune. He was evidently dissatisfied and pulled at one string as if to loosen it; then, pressing one end of the bow against his lips, he talked to it in a singing tone, at the same time plucking the strings with a delicate rib of grass. The effect was most pleasing. The open cavity of the mouth, acting as a resonator, reenforced the sounds and gave them a volume and dignity that was a revelation. The lifeless strings allied themselves to a human voice and became animated by a living soul.
With the assistance of a musical friend it was found that the
old Hawaiian tuned his strings with approximate correctness
to the tonic, the third and the fifth. We may surmise that
this self-trained musician had instinctively followed the
principle or rule proposed by Aristoxenus, who directed a
singer to sing his most convenient note, and then, taking
this as a starting point, to tune the remainder of his
strings—the Greek kithara, no doubt—in the usual manner
from this one.
While the ukeké was used to accompany the mele and the oli,
its chief employment was in serenading and serving the young
folk in breathing their extemporized songs and uttering their
love-talk—*hoipoipo*. By using a peculiar lingo or secret
talk of their own invention, two lovers could hold private
conversation in public and pour their loves and longings into
each other’s ears without fear of detection—a thing most
reprehensible in savages. This display of ingenuity has been
the occasion for outpouring many vials of wrath upon the
sinful ukeké.
Experiment with the ukeké impresses one with the wonderful
change in the tone of the instrument that takes place when
its lifeless strings are brought into close relation with the
cavity of the mouth. Let anyone having normal organs of
speech contract his lips into the shape of an O, make his
cheeks tense, and then, with the pulp of his finger as a
plectrum, slap the center of his cheek and mark the tone that
is produced. Practice will soon enable him to render a full
octave with fair accuracy and to perform a simple melody that
shall be recognizable at a short distance. The power and
range thus acquired will, of course, be limited by the skill
of the operator. One secret of the performance lies in a
proper management of the tongue. This function of the mouth
[Page 149] familiarly illustrated in the jew’s-harp. The author is again indebted to Miss Elsner for the following comments on the ukeké:
“The strings of this ukeké, the Hawaiian fiddle, are tuned to
e̅; to b̅ and to d̅. These three strings are struck
nearly simultaneously, but the sound being very feeble, it is
only the first which, receiving the sharp impact of the blow,
gives out enough volume to make a decided impression.”
III—The Ukeké (as played by Keaonaloa)
Arranged by JENNIE ELSNER
[Music]
The early visitors to these islands, as a rule, either held
the music of the savages in contempt or they were unqualified
to report on its character and to make record of it.
We know that in ancient times the voices of the men as well
as of the women were heard at the same time in the songs of
the hula. One of the first questions that naturally arises
is, Did the men and the women sing in parts or merely in
unison?
It is highly gratifying to find clear historical testimony on
this point from a competent authority. The quotation that
follows is from the pen of Capt. James King, who was with
Capt. James Cook on the latter’s last voyage, in which he
discovered the Hawaiian islands (January 18, 1778). The words
were evidently penned after the death of Captain Cook, when
the writer of them, it is inferred, must have succeeded to
the command of the expedition. The fact that Captain King
weighs his words, as evidenced in the footnote, and that he
appreciates the bearing and significance of his testimony,
added to the fact that he was a man of distinguished
learning, gives unusual weight to his statements. The subject
is one of so great interest and importance, that the whole
passage is here quoted.[307] It adds not a little to its value
that the writer thereof did not confine his remarks to the
music, but enters into a general description of the hula. The
only regret is that he did not go still further into details.
[Footnote 307: Italics used are those of the present author.]
Their dances have a much nearer resemblance to those of the
New Zealanders than of the Otaheitians or Friendly Islanders.
They are prefaced with a slow, solemn song, in which all the
party join, moving their legs, and gently striking their
breasts in a manner and with attitudes that are perfectly
easy and graceful; and so far they are the same with the
dances of the Society Islands. When this has lasted about ten
minutes, both the tune and the motions gradually quicken, and
[Page 150] end only by their inability to support the fatigue, which
the New Zealanders; and (as it is among them) the person who
uses the most violent action and holds out the longest is
applauded as the best dancer. It is to be observed that in
this dance the women only took part and that the dancing of
the men is nearly of the same kind with what we saw at the
Friendly Islands; and which may, perhaps, with more
propriety, be called the accompaniment of the songs, with
corresponding and graceful motions of the whole body. Yet as
we were spectators of boxing exhibitions of the same kind
with those we were entertained with at the Friendly Islands,
it is probable that they had likewise their grand ceremonious
dances, in which numbers of both sexes assisted.
Their music is also of a ruder kind, having neither flutes
nor reeds, nor instruments of any other sort, that we saw,
except drums of various sizes. But their songs, _which they
sing in parts_, and accompany with a gentle motion of the
arms, in the same manner as the Friendly Islanders, had a
very pleasing effect.
To the above Captain King adds this footnote:
As this circumstance of their *singing in parts* has been
much doubted by persons eminently skilled in music, and would
be exceedingly curious if it was clearly ascertained, it is
to be lamented that it can not be more positively
authenticated.
Captain Burney and Captain Phillips of the Marines, who have
both a tolerable knowledge of music, have given it as their
opinion they did sing in parts; that is to say, that they
sang together in different notes, which formed a pleasing
harmony.
These gentlemen have fully testified that the Friendly
Islanders undoubtedly studied their performances before they
were exhibited in public; that they had an idea of different
notes being useful in harmony; and also that they rehearsed
their compositions in private and threw out the inferior
voices before they ventured to appear before those who were
supposed to be judges of their skill in music.
In their regular concerts each man had a bamboo[308] which was
of a different length and gave a different tone. These they
beat against the ground, and each performer, assisted by the
note given by this instrument, repeated the same note,
accompanying it with words, by which means it was rendered
sometimes short and sometimes long. In this manner they sang
in chorus, and not only produced octaves to each other,
according to their species of voice, but fell on concords
such as were not disagreeable to the ear.
[Footnote 308: These bamboos were, no doubt, the same as the
*kaékeéke*, elsewhere described. (See P. 122.)]
Now, to overturn this fact, by the reasoning of persons who
did not hear these performances, is rather an arduous task.
And yet there is great improbability that any uncivilized
people should by accident arrive at this perfection in the
art of music, which we imagine can only be attained by dint
of study and knowledge of the system and the theory on which
musical composition is founded. Such miserable jargon as our
country psalm-singers practice, which may be justly deemed
the lowest class of counterpoint, or singing in several
parts, can not be acquired in the coarse manner in which it
is performed in the churches without considerable time and
practice. It is, therefore, scarcely credible that a people,
semibarbarous, should naturally arrive at any perfection in
that art which it is much doubted whether the Greeks and
Romans, with all their refinements in music, ever attained,
and which the Chinese, who have been longer civilized than
any people on the globe, have not yet found out.
[Page 151] If Captain Burney (who, by the testimony of his father, perhaps the greatest musical theorist of this or any other age, was able to have done it) has written down in European notes the concords that these people sung, and if these concords had been such as European ears could tolerate, there would have been no longer doubt of the fact; but, as it is, it would, in my opinion, be a rash judgment to venture to affirm that they did or did not understand counterpoint; and therefore I fear that this curious matter must be considered as still remaining undecided. (A Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, undertaken by the command of His Majesty, for making discoveries in the Northern Hemisphere. Performed under the direction of Captains Cook, Clerke, and Gore, in His Majesty’s ships the Resolution and Discovery, in the years 1776, 1777, 1778, and 1780, 3 volumes, London, 1784, III, 2d ed., 142, 143, 144.)
While we can not but regret that Captain King did not go into
detail and inform us specifically what were the concords
those old-time people “fell on,” whether their songs were in
the major or minor key, and many other points of information,
he has, nevertheless, put science under obligations to him by
his clear and unmistakable testimony to the fact that they
did arrange their music in parts. His testimony is decisive:
“In this manner they sang in chorus, and not only produced
octaves to each other, according to their species of voice,
but fell on concords such as were not disagreeable to the
ear.” When the learned doctor argues that to overturn this
fact would be an arduous task, we have to agree with him—an
arduous task indeed. He well knew that one proven fact can
overthrow a thousand improbabilities. “What man has done man
can do” is a true saying; but it does not thence follow that
what man has not done man can not do.
If the contention were that the Hawaiians understood
counterpoint as a science and a theory, the author would
unhesitatingly admit the improbability with a readiness akin
to that with which he would admit the improbability that the
wild Australian understood the theory of the boomerang. But
that a musical people, accustomed to pitch their voices to
the clear and unmistakable notes of bamboo pipes cut to
various lengths, a people whose posterity one generation
later appropriated the diatonic scale as their own with the
greatest avidity and readiness, that this people should
recognize the natural harmonies of sound, when they had
chanced upon them, and should imitate them in their
songs—the improbability of this the author fails to see.
The clear and explicit statement of Captain King leaves
little to be desired so far as this sort of evidence can go.
There are, however, other lines of inquiry that must be
developed:
1. The testimony of the Hawaiians themselves on this matter.
This is vague. No one of whom inquiry has been made is able
to affirm positively the existence of part-singing in the
olden times. Most of those with whom the writer has talked
are inclined to the view that the ancient cantillation was
not in any sense part-singing as now practised. One must not,
[Page 152] however, rely too much on such testimony as this, which at the best is only negative. In many cases it is evident the witnesses do not understand the true meaning and bearing of the question. The Hawaiians have no word or expression synonymous with our expression “musical chord.” In all inquiries the writer has found it necessary to use periphrasis or to appeal to some illustration. The fact must be borne in mind, however, that people often do a thing, or possess a thing, for which they have no name.
2. As to the practice among Hawaiians at the present time, no
satisfactory proof has been found of the existence of any
case in which in the cantillations of their own songs the
Hawaiians—those uninfluenced by foreign music—have given an
illustration of what can properly be termed part-singing; nor
can anyone be found who can testify affirmatively to the same
effect. Search for it has thus far been as fruitless as
pursuit of the will-o’-the-wisp.
3. The light that is thrown on this question by the study of
the old Hawaiian musical instruments is singularly
inconclusive. If it were possible, for instance, to bring
together a complete set of kaekeeke bamboos which were
positively known to have been used together at one
performance, the argument from the fact of their forming a
musical harmony, if such were found to be the case—or, on
the other hand, of their producing only a haphazard series of
unrelated sounds, if such were the fact—would bring to the
decision of the question the overwhelming force of indirect
evidence. But such an assortment the author has not been able
to find. Bamboo is a frail and perishable material. Of the
two specimens of kaekeeke tubes found by him in the Bernice
Pauahi Bishop Museum one was cracked and voiceless; and so
the testimony of its surviving partner was of no avail.
The Hawaiians of the present day are so keenly alive to
musical harmony that it is hardly conceivable that their
ancestors two or three generations ago perpetrated discords
in their music. They must either have sung in unison or hit
on “concords such as were not disagreeable to the ear.” If
the music heard in the halau to-day in any close degree
resembles that of ancient times—it must be assumed that it
does—no male voice of ordinary range need have found any
difficulty in sounding the notes, nor do they scale so low
that a female voice would not easily reach them.
Granting, then, as we must, the accuracy of Captain King’s
statement, the conclusion to which the author of this paper
feels forced is that since the time of the learned doctor’s
visit to these shores, more than one hundred and twenty-eight
years ago, the art and practice of singing or cantillating
after the old fashion has declined among the Hawaiians. The
hula of the old times, in spite of all the efforts to
[Page 153] maintain it, is becoming more and more difficult of procurement every day. Almost none of the singing that one hears at the so-called hula performances gotten up for the delectation of sightseers is Hawaiian music of the old sort. It belongs rather to the second or third rattoon-crop, which, has sprung up under the influence of foreign stimuli. Take the published hula songs, such as “Tomitomi,” “Wahine Poupou” and a dozen others that might be mentioned, to say nothing about the words—the music is no more related to the genuine Hawaiian article of the old times than is “ragtime” to a Gregorian chant.
The bare score of a hula song, stripped of all embellishments
and reduced by the logic of our musical science to the merest
skeleton of notes, certainly makes a poor showing and gives
but a feeble notion of the song itself—its rhythm, its
multitudinous grace-notes, its weird tone-color. The notes
given below offer such a skeletal presentation of a song
which the author heard cantillated by a skilled hula-master.
They were taken down at the author’s request by Capt. H.
Berger, conductor of the Royal Hawaiian Band:
IV—Song from the Hula Pa’i-umauma
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]
The same comment may be made on the specimen next to be given
as on the previous one: there is an entire omission of the
trills and flourishes with which the singer garlanded his
scaffolding of song, and which testified of his adhesion to
the fashion of his ancestors, the fashion according to which
songs have been sung, prayers recited, brave deeds celebrated
since the time when Kane and Pele and the other gods dipped
paddle for the first time into Hawaiian waters.
Unfortunately, in this as in the previous piece and as in the
one next to be given, the singer escaped the author before he
was able to catch the words.
V—Song from the Hula Pa-ipu
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]
[Page 154]
Here, again, is a piece of song that to the author’s ear
bears much the same resemblance to the original that an oiled
ocean in calm would bear to the same ocean when stirred by a
breeze. The fine dimples which gave the ocean its
diamond-flash have been wiped out.
VI—Song for the Hula Pele
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]
Is it our ear that is at fault? Is it not rather our science
of musical notation, in not reproducing the fractions of
steps, the enharmonics that are native to the note-carving
ear of the Chinaman, and that are perhaps essential to the
perfect scoring of an oli or mele as sung by a Hawaiian?
None of the illustrations thus far given have caught that
fluctuating trilling movement of the voice which most
musicians interviewed on the subject declare to be impossible
of representation, while some flout the assertion that it
represents a change of pitch. One is reminded by this of a
remark made by Pietro Mascagni:[309]
[Footnote 309: The Evolution of Music from the Italian
Standpoint, *in* the Century Library of Music, XVI, 521.]
“The feeling that a people displays in its character, its
habits, its nature, and thus creates an overprivileged type
of music, may be apprehended by a foreign spirit which has
become accustomed to the usages and expressions common from
that particular people. But popular music, [being] void of
any scientific basis, will always remain incomprehensible to
the foreigner who seeks to study it technically.”
When we consider that the Chinese find pleasure in musical
performances on instruments that divide the scale into
intervals less than half a step, and that the Arabian musical
scale included quarter-steps, we shall be obliged to admit
that this statement of Mascagni is not merely a fling at our
musical science.
Here are introduced the words and notes of a musical
recitation done after the manner of the hula by a Hawaiian
professional and his wife. Acquaintance with the Hawaiian
language and a feeling for the allusions connoted in the text
of the song would, of course, be a great aid in enabling one
to enter into the spirit of the performance. As these
[Page 155] adjuncts will be available to only a very few of those who will read these words, in the beginning are given the words of the oli with which he prefaced the song, with a translation of the same, and then the mele which formed the bulk of the song, also with a translation, together with such notes and comments as are necessary to bring one into intellectual and sympathetic relation with the performance, so far as that is possible under the circumstances. It is especially necessary to familiarize the imagination with the language, meaning, and atmosphere of a mele, because the Hawaiian approached song from the side of the poet and elocutionist. Further discussion of this point must, however, be deferred to another division of the subject:
*He Oli*
Halau[310] Hanalei i ka nini a ka ua;
Kumano[311] ke po’o-wai a ka liko;[312]
Nahá ka opi-wai[313] a a Wai-aloha;
O ke kahi koe a hiki i Wai-oli.[314]
Ua ike ’a.
[Translation.]
*A Song*
Hanalei is a hall for the dance in the pouring rain;
The stream-head is turned from its bed of fresh green;
Broken the dam that pent the water of love—
Naught now to hinder its rush to the vale of delight.
You’ve seen it.
[Footnote 310: *Halau*. The rainy valley of Hanalei, on Kauai,
is here compared to a halau, a dance-hall, apparently because
the rain-columns seem to draw together and inclose the valley
within walls, while the dark foreshortened vault of heaven
covers it as with a roof.]
[Footnote 311: *Kumano*. A water-source, or, as here, perhaps,
a sort of dam or loose stone wall that was run out into a
stream for the purpose of diverting a portion of it into a
new channel.]
[Footnote 312: *Liko*. A bud; fresh verdure; a word much used
in modern Hawaiian poetry.]
[Footnote 313: *Opiwai*. A watershed. In Hawaii a knife-edged
ridge as narrow as the back of a horse will often decide the
course of a stream, turning its direction from one to the
other side of the island.]
[Footnote 314: *Waioli* (*wai*, water; *oli*, joyful). The name
given to a part of the valley of Hanalei, also the name of a
river.]
The mele to which the above oli was a prelude is as follows:
*Mele*
Noluna ka hale kai, e ka ma’a-lewa,
Nana ka maka ia Moana-nui-ka-Lehúa.
Noi au i ke kai e mali’o.
Ane ku a’e la he lehúa ilaila—
5 Hopoe Lehúa ki’eki’e.
Maka’u ka Lehúa i ke kanáka,
Lilo ilalo e hele ai, ilalo, e.
Keaau iliili nehe; olelo ke kai o Puna
I ka ulu hala la, e, kaiko’o Puna.
10 Ia hoone’ene’e ia pili mai kaua,
E ke hoa, ke waiho e mai la oe;
Eia ka mea ino, he anu, e.
Aohe anu e!
Me he mea la iwaho kaua, e ke hoa,
15 Me he wai la ko kaua ili, e.
[Page 156]
VII—*Oli and Mele from the Hula Ala’a-papa*
*Oli—A prelude*
Arranged by Mrs. YARNDLEY
[Music:]
[Page 157]
[Music: (*4 times r.*)]
[Translation.]
*Song from the Hula Ala’a-papa*
From mountain-retreat and root-woven ladder
Mine eye looks down on goddess Moana-Lehúa.
Then I pray to the Sea, be thou calm;
Would there might stand on thy shore a lehúa—
5 Lehúa tree tall of Hopoe.
The Lehúa is fearful of man,
Leaves him to walk on the ground below,
To walk on the ground far below.
The pebbles at Keaau grind in the surf;
10 The sea at Keaau shouts to Puna’s palms,
“Fierce is the sea of Puna.”
Move hither, snug close, companion mine;
You lie so aloof over there.
Oh what a bad fellow is Cold!
15 Not cold, do you say?
It’s as if we were out in the wold,
Our bodies so clammy and chill, friend.
EXPLANATORY REMARKS
The acute or stress accent is placed over syllables that take
the accent in ordinary speech.
A word or syllable italicized indicates drum-down-beat.
[Page 158] It will be noticed that the stress-accent and the rhythmic accent, marked by the down-beat, very frequently do not coincide. The time marked by the drum-down-beat was strictly accurate throughout.
The tune was often pitched on some other key than that in
which it is here recorded. This fact was noted when, from
time to tune, it was found necessary to have the singer
repeat certain passages.
The number of measures devoted to the *i’i*, or fluctuation,
which is indicated by the wavering line [Illustration:],
varied from time to time, even when the singer repeated the
same passage. (See remarks on the *i’i* p. 140.)
Redundancies of speech (interpolations) which are in
disagreement with the present writer’s text (pp. 155–156) are
inclosed in brackets. It will be seen that in the fifth verse
he gives the version *Maka’u ke kanaka i ka lehua* instead of
the one given by the author, which is _Maka’u ka Lehua i ke
kanaka_. Each version has its advocates, and good arguments
are made in favor of each.
On reaching the end of a measure that coincided with the
close of a rhetorical phrase the singer, Kualii, made haste
to snatch, as it were, at the first word or syllable of the
succeeding phrase. This is indicated by the word
“anticipating,” or “anticipatory”—written *anticip.*—placed
over the syllable or word thus snatched.
It was somewhat puzzling to determine whether the tones which
this man sang were related to each other as five and three of
the major key, or as three and one of the minor key.
Continued and strained attention finally made it seem evident
that it was the major key which he intended, i.e., it was
f̅ and d̅ in the key of B♭,
rather than f̅ and d̅ in the key of D minor.
ELOCUTION AND RHYTHMIC ACCENT IN HAWAIIAN SONG
In their ordinary speech the Hawaiians were good
elocutionists—none better. Did they adhere to this same
system of accentuation in their poetry, or did they punctuate
their phrases and words according to the notions of the
song-maker and the conceived exigencies of poetical
composition? After hearing and studying this recitation of
Kualii the author is compelled to say that he does depart in
a great measure from the accent of common speech and charge
his words with intonations and stresses peculiar to the mele.
What artificial influence has come in to produce this
result? Is it from some demand of poetic or of musical
rhythm? Which? It was observed that he substituted the soft
sound of *t* for the stronger sound of *k*, “because,” as he
explained, “the sound of the *t* is lighter.” Thus he said
*te tanata* instead of *ke kanaka*, the man. The Hawaiian ear
has always a delicate feeling for tone-color.
[Page 159] In all our discussions and conclusions we must bear in mind that the Hawaiian did not approach song merely for its own sake; the song did not sing of itself. First in order came the poem, then the rhythm of song keeping time to the rhythm of the poetry. The Hawaiian sang not from a mere bubbling up of indefinable emotion, but because he had something to say for which he could find no other adequate form of expression. The Hawaiian boy, as he walks the woods, never whistles to keep his courage up. When he paces the dim aisles of Kaliuwa’a, he sets up an altar and heaps on it a sacrifice of fruit and flowers and green leaves, but he keeps as silent as a mouse.
During his performance Kualii cantillated his song while
handling a round wooden tray in place of a drum; his wife
meanwhile performed the dance. This she did very gracefully
and in perfect time. In marking the accent the left foot was,
if anything, the favorite, yet each foot in general took two
measures; that is, the left marked the down-beat in measures
1 and 2, 5 and 6, and so on, while the right, in turn, marked
the rhythmic accent that comes with the down-beat in measures
3 and 4, 7 and 8, and so on. During the four steps taken by
the left foot, covering the time of two measures, the body
was gracefully poised on the other foot. Then a shift was
made, the position was reversed, and during two measures the
emphasis came on the right foot.
The motions of the hands, arms, and of the whole body,
including the pelvis—which has its own peculiar orbital and
sidelong swing—were in perfect sympathy one part with
another. The movements were so fascinating that one was at
first almost hypnotized and disqualified for criticism and
analytic judgment. Not to derogate from the propriety and
modesty of the woman’s motions, under the influence of her
Delsartian grace one gained new appreciation of “the charm of
woven paces and of waving hands.”
Throughout the whole performance of Kualii and his wife
Abigaila it was noticed that, while he was the reciter, she
took the part of the olapa (see p. 28) and performed the
dance; but to this rôle she added that of prompter, repeating
to him in advance the words of the next verse, which he then
took up. Her verbal memory, it was evident, was superior to
his.
Experience with Kualii and his partner, as well as with
others, emphasizes the fact that one of the great
difficulties encountered in the attempt to write out the
slender thread of music (*leo*) of a Hawaiian mele and fit to
it the words as uttered by the singer arises from the
constant interweaving of meaningless vowel sounds. This,
which the Hawaiians call *i’i*, is a phenomenon comparable to
the weaving of a vine about a framework, or to the
[Page 160] pen-flourishes that illuminate old German text. It consists of the repetition of a vowel sound—generally i (=ee) or e (=a, as in fate), or a rapid interchange of these two. To the ear of the author the pitch varies through an interval somewhat less than a half-step. Exactly what is the interval he can not say. The musicians to whom appeal for aid in determining this point has been made have either dismissed it for the most part as a matter of little or no consequence or have claimed the seeming variation in pitch was due simply to a changeful stress of voice or of accent. But the author can not admit that the report of his senses is here mistaken.
A further embarrassment comes from the fact that this
tone-embroidery found in the i’i is not a fixed quantity. It
varies seemingly with the mood of the singer, so that not
unfrequently, when one asks for the repetition of a phrase,
it will, quite likely, be given with a somewhat different
wording, calling for a readjustment of the rhythm on the part
of the musician who is recording the score. But it must be
acknowledged that the singer sticks to his rhythm, which, so
far as observed, is in common time.
In justice to the Hawaiian singer who performs the
accommodating task just mentioned it must be said that, under
the circumstances in which he is placed, it is no wonder that
at times he departs from the prearranged formula of song. His
is the difficult task of pitching his voice and maintaining
the same rhythm and tempo unaided by instrumental
accompaniment or the stimulating movements of the dance. Let
any stage-singer make the attempt to perform an aria, or even
a simple recitative, off the stage, and without the
support—real or imaginary—afforded by the wonted orchestral
accompaniment as well as the customary stage-surroundings,
and he will be apt to find himself embarrassed. The very fact
of being compelled to repeat is of itself alone enough to
disconcert almost anyone. The men and women who to-day
attempt the forlorn task of reproducing for us a hula mele or
an oli under what are to them entirely unsympathetic and
novel surroundings are, as a rule, past the prime of life,
and not unfrequently acknowledge themselves to be failing in
memory.
After making all of these allowances we must, it would seem,
make still another allowance, which regards the intrinsic
nature and purpose of Hawaiian song. It was not intended, nor
was it possible under the circumstances of the case, that a
Hawaiian song should be sung to an unvarying tempo or to the
same key; and even in the words or sounds that make up its
fringework a certain range of individual choice was allowed
or even expected of the singer. This privilege of exercising
individuality might even extend to the solid framework of the
mele or oli and not merely to the filigree, the i’i, that
enwreathed it.
[Page 161] It would follow from this, if the author is correct, that the musical critic of to-day must be content to generalize somewhat and must not be put out if the key is changed on repetition and if tempo and rhythm depart at times from their standard gait. It is questionable if even the experts in the palmy days of the hula attained such a degree of skill as to be faultless and logical in these matters.
It has been said that modern music has molded and developed
itself under the influence of three causes, (1) a
comprehension of the nature of music itself, (2) a feeling or
inspiration, and (3) the influence of poetry. Guided by this
generalization, it may be said that Hawaiian poetry was the
nurse and pedagogue of that stammering infant, Hawaiian
music; that the words of the mele came before its rhythmic
utterance in song; and that the first singers were the
priests and the eulogists. Hawaiian poetry is far ahead of
Hawaiian song in the power to move the feelings. A few words
suffice the poet with which to set the picture before one’s
eyes, and one picture quickly follows another; whereas the
musical attachment remains weak and colorless, reminding one
of the nursery pictures, in which a few skeletal lines
represent the human frame.
Let us now for refreshment and in continued pursuit of our
subject listen to a song in the language and spirit of
old-time Hawaii, composed, however, in the middle of the
nineteenth century. It is given as arranged by Miss Lillian
Byington, who took it down as she heard it sung by an old
Hawaiian woman in the train of Queen Liliuokalani, and as the
author has since heard it sung by Miss Byington’s pupils of
the Kamehameha School for Girls. The song has been slightly
idealized, perhaps, by trimming away some of the superfluous
i’i, but not more than is necessary to make it highly
acceptable to our ears and not so much as to take from it the
plaintive bewitching tone that pervades the folk-music of
Hawaii. The song, the mele, is not in itself much—a hint, a
sketch, a sweep of the brush, a lilt of the imagination, a
connotation of multiple images which no jugglery of literary
art can transfer into any foreign speech. Its charm, like
that of all folk-songs and of all romance, lies in its
mysterious tug at the heartstrings.
[Page 162]
VIII—He Inoa no Kamehameha
(Old Mele—Kindness of H.R.H. Liliuokalani)
Arranged by LILLIAN BYINGTON
[Music:]
*He Inoa no Kamehameha*
Aia i Waipi’o[315] Paka’alana,[316]
Paepae[317] kapu ia o Liloa.[318]
He aloha ka wahine pi’i ka pali,[319]
Puili ana i ka hua ulei,
5 I ka ai mo’a i ka lau laau.[320]
Hoolaau[321] mai o ka welowelo.
Ua pe’e pa Kai-a-ulu o Waimea,[322]
Ua ola i ku’u kai,[323] Keoloewa,[324] e.
[Footnote 315: *Waipi’o*. A deep valley on the windward side of
Hawaii.]
[Footnote 316: *Paka’alana*. A temple and the residence of King
Liloa in Waipi’o.]
[Footnote 317: *Paepae*. The doorsill (of this temple), always
an object of superstitious regard, but especially so in the
case of this temple. Here it stands for the whole temple.]
[Footnote 318: *Liloa*. A famous king of Hawaii who had his
seat in Waipi’o.]
[Footnote 319: *Wahine pii ka pali*, Haina-kolo, a mythical
character, is probably the one alluded to. She married a king
of Kukulu o Kahiki, and, being deserted by him, swam back to
Hawaii. Arrived at Waipi’o in a famishing state, she climbed
the heights and ate of the *ulei* berries without first
propitiating the local deity with a sacrifice. As an
infliction of the offended deity, she became distraught and
wandered away into the wilderness. Her husband repented of
his neglect and after long search found her. Under kind
treatment she regained her reason and the family was happily
reunited.]
[Footnote 320: *Lau laau*. Leaves of plants.]
[Footnote 321: *Hoolaau*. The last part of this word, *laau*,
taken in connection with the last word of the previous verse,
form a capital instance of word repetition. This was an
artifice much used in Hawaiian poetry, both as a means of
imparting tone-color and for the punning wit it was supposed
to exhibit.]
[Footnote 322: *Ua pe’e pa Kai-a-ulu o Waimea*. *Kai-a-ulu* is
a fierce rain-squall such as arises suddenly in the uplands
of Waimea, Hawaii. The traveler, to protect himself, crouches
(*pe’e*) behind a hummock of grass, or builds up in all haste
a barricade (*pa*) of light stuff as a partial shelter
against the oncoming storm.]
[Footnote 323: *Kai*. Taken in connection with *Kai-a-ulu* in
the preceding verse, this is another instance of verse
repetition. This word, the primary meaning of which is sea,
or ocean, is used figuratively to represent a source of
comfort or life.]
[Footnote 324: *Keoloewa*. The name of one of the old gods
belonging to the class called *akua noho*, a class of deities
that were sent by the necromancers on errands of demoniacal
possession.]
[Page 163]
[Translation.]
*A Name-song of Kamehameha*
In Waipi’o stands Paka’alana,
The sacred shrine of Liloa.
Love to the woman climbing the steep,
Who gathered the ulei berries,
5 Who ate of the uncooked herbs of the wild, 5
Craving the swaying fruit like a hungry child.
A covert I found from the storm,
Life in my sea of delight.
The text of this mele—said to be a name-song of Kamehameha
V—as first secured had undergone some corruption which
obscured the meaning. By calling to his aid an old Hawaiian
in whose memory the song had long been stored the author was
able to correct it. Hawaiian authorities are at variance as
to its meaning. One party reads in it an exclusive allusion
to characters that have flitted across the stage within the
memory of people now living, while another, taking a more
romantic and traditional view, finds in it a reference to an
old-time myth—that of *Ke-anini-ula-o-ka-lani*—the chief
character in which was *Haina-kolo*. (See note *e*.) After
carefully considering both sides of the question it seems to
the author that, while the principle of double allusion, so
common in Hawaiian poetry, may here prevail, one is justified
in giving prominence to the historico-mythological
interpretation that is inwoven in the poem. It is a
comforting thought that adhesion to this decision will suffer
certain unstaged actions of crowned heads to remain in
charitable oblivion.
The music of this song is an admirable and faithful
interpretation of the old Hawaiian manner of cantillation,
having received at the hands of the foreign musician only so
much trimming as was necessary to idealize it and make it
reducible to our system of notation.
EXPLANATORY NOTE
*Hoaeae*.—This term calls for a quiet, sentimental style of
recitation, in which the fluctuating trill i’i, if it occurs
at all, is not made prominent. It is contrasted with the
*olioli*, in which the style is warmer and the fluctuations
of the i’i are carried to the extreme.
Thus far we have been considering the traditional indigenous
music of the land. To come now to that which has been and is
being produced in Hawaii by Hawaiians to-day, under
influences from abroad, it will not be possible to mistake
the presence in it of two strains: The foreign, showing its
hand in the lopping away of much redundant foliage, has
brought it largely within the compass of scientific and
technical expression; the native element reveals itself, now
[Page 164] in plaintive reminiscence and now in a riotous bonhommie, a rollicking love of the sensuous, and in a style of delivery and vocal technique which demands a voluptuous throatiness, and which must be heard to be appreciated.
The foreign influence has repressed and well-nigh driven from
the field the monotonous fluctuations of the i’i, has lifted
the starveling melodies of Hawaii out of the old ruts and
enriched them with new notes, thus giving them a spring and
*élan* that appeal alike to the cultivated ear and to the
popular taste of the day. It has, moreover, tapped the
springs of folk-song that lay hidden in the Hawaiian nature.
This same influence has also caused to germinate a Hawaiian
appreciation of harmony and has endowed its music with new
chords, the tonic and dominant, as well as with those of the
subdominant and various minor chords.
The persistence of the Hawaiian quality is, however, most
apparent in the language and imagery of the song-poetry. This
will be seen in the text of the various mele and oli now to
be given. Every musician will also note for himself the
peculiar intervals and shadings of these melodies as well as
the odd effects produced by rhythmic syncopation.
The songs must speak for themselves. The first song to be
given, though dating from no longer ago than about the sixth
decade of the last century, has already scattered its
wind-borne seed and reproduced its kind in many variants,
after the manner of other folklore. This love-lyric
represents a type, very popular in Hawaii, that has continued
to grow more and more personal and subjective in contrast
with the objective epic style of the earliest Hawaiian mele.
IX—Song, Poli Anuanu
Arranged by Mrs. YARNDLEY
*Andante cantabile*
[Music]
[Page 165]
*Poli Anuanu*
1. Aloha wale oe,
Poli anuanu;
Máeéle au
I ke ánu, e.
2. He anu e ka ua,
He anu e ka wai,
Li’a kuu ili
I ke anu, e.
3. Ina paha,
Ooe a owau
Ka i pu-kukú’i,
I ke anu, e.
He who would translate this love-lyric for the ear as well as
for the mind finds himself handicapped by the limitations of
our English speech—its scant supply of those orotund vowel
sounds which flow forth with their full freight of breath in
such words as *a-ló-ha*, *pó-li*, and *á-nu-á-nu*. These
vocables belong to the very genius of the Hawaiian tongue.
[Translation.]
*Cold Breast*
1. Love fain compels to greet thee,
Breast so cold, so cold.
Chilled, benumbed am I
With the pinching cold.
2. How bitter cold the rainfall,
Bitter cold the stream,
Body all a-shiver,
From the pinching cold.
3. Pray, what think you?
What if you and I
Should our arms enfold,
Just to keep off the cold?
The song next given, dating from a period only a few years
subsequent, is of the same class and general character as
Poli Anuanu. Both words and music are peculiarly Hawaiian,
though one may easily detect the foreign influence that
presided over the shaping of the melody.
[Page 166]
X—Song, Hua-hua’i
Arranged by Mrs. YARNDLEY
Moderato
[Music:]
*Huahua’i*
He aloha wau ia oe,
I kau hana, hana pono;
La’i ai ke kaunu me ia la,
Hoapaapa i ke kino.
*Chorus*:
Kaua i ka huahua’i,
E uhene la’i pili koolua,
Pu-kuku’i aku i ke koekoe,
Anu lipo i ka palai.
[Page 167]
[Translation.]
*Outburst*
O my love goes out to thee,
For thy goodness and thy kindness.
Fancy kindles at that other,
Stirs, with her arts, my blood.
*Chorus:*
You and I, then, for an outburst!
Sing the joy of love’s encounter,
Join arms against the invading damp,
Deep chill of embowering ferns.
The following is given, not for its poetical value and
significance, but rather as an example of a song which the
trained Hawaiian singer delights to roll out with an unctuous
gusto that bids defiance to all description:
XI—Song, Ka Mawae
By permission of the Hawaiian News Co., of Honolulu
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music:]
NOTE.—The music to which this hula song is set was produced
by a member of the Hawaiian Band, Mr. Solomon A. Hiram, and
arranged by Capt. H. Berger, to whom the author is indebted
for permission to use it.
*Ka Mawae*
A e ho’i ke aloha i ka mawae,
I ke Kawelu-holu, Papi’ohúli.[325]
Huli mai kou alo, ua anu wau,
Ua pulu i ka ua, malule o-luna.
[Footnote 325: *Papi’o-huli*. A slope in the western
valley-side at the head of Nuuanu, where the tall grass
(*kawelu*) waves (*holu*) in the wind.]
[Page 168]
[Translation.]
*The Refuge*
Return, O love, to the refuge,
The wind-tossed covert of Papi’ohúli.
Face now to my face; I’m smitten with cold,
Soaked with the rain and benumbed.
XII—Like no a Like
By permission of the Hawaiian News Co. (Ltd.)
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]
*Like no a Like*
1. Ua like no a like
Me ka ua kani-lehua;
Me he la e i mai ana,
Aia ilaila ke aloha.
*Chorus*:
Ooe no ka’u i upu ai,
Ku’u lei hiki ahiahi,
O ke kani o na manu,
I na hora o ke aumoe.
2. Maanei mai kaua,
He welina pa’a i ka piko,
A nau no wau i imi mai,
A loaa i ke aheahe a ka makani.
*Chorus*.
[Page 169]
[Translation.]
*Resemblance*
1. When the rain drums loud on the leaf,
It makes me think of my love;
It whispers into my ear,
Your love, your love—she is near.
*Chorus*:
Thou art the end of my longing,
The crown of evening’s delight,
When I hear the cock blithe crowing,
In the middle watch of the night.
2. This way is the path for thee and me,
A welcome warm at the end.
I waited long for thy coming,
And found thee in waft of the breeze.
*Chorus*.
XIII—Song, Pili Aoao
By permission of the Hawaiian News Co. (Ltd.)
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]
NOTE.—The composer of the music and the author of the mele
was a Hawaiian named John Meha, of the Hawaiian Band, who
died some ten years ago, at the age of 40 years.
1. O ka ponaha iho a ke ao.
Ka pipi’o malie maluna,
Ike oe i ka hana, mikiala,
Nowelo i ka pili aoao.
*Chorus*:
Maikai ke aloha a ka ipo—
Hana mao ole i ka puuwai,
Houhou liilii i ka poli—
Nowelo i ka pili aoao.
2. A mau ka pili’na olu pono;
Huli a’e, hooheno malie,
Hanu liilii nahenahe,
Nowelo i ka pili aoao.
*Chorus*.
[Page 170]
The author of the mele was a Hawaiian named John Meha, who
died some years ago. He was for many years a member of the
Hawaiian Band and set the words to the music given below,
which has since been arranged by Captain Berger.
[Translation.]
*Side by Side*
1. Outspreads now the dawn,
Arching itself on high—
But look! a wondrous thing,
A thrill at touch of the side.
*Chorus*:
Most dear to the soul is a love-touch;
Its pulse stirs ever the heart
And gently throbs in the breast—
At thrill from the touch of the side.
2. In time awakes a new charm
As you turn and gently caress;
Short comes, the breath—at
The thrill from the touch of the side.
*Chorus*.
The fragments of Hawaiian music that have drifted down to us
no doubt remain true to the ancient type, however much they
may have changed in quality. They show the characteristics
that stamp all primitive music—plaintiveness to the degree
almost of sadness, monotony, lack of acquaintance with the
full range of intervals that make up our diatonic scale, and
therefore a measurable absence of that ear-charm we call
melody. These are among its deficiencies.
If, on the other hand, we set down the positive qualities by
the possession of which it makes good its claim to be classed
as music, we shall find that it has a firm hold on rhythm.
This is indeed one of the special excellencies of Hawaiian
music. Added to this, we find that it makes a limited use of
such-intervals as the third, fifth, fourth, and at the same
time resorts extravagantly, as if in compensation, to a fine
tone-carving that divides up the tone-interval into fractions
so much less than the semitone that our ears are almost
indifferent to them, and are at first inclined to deny their
existence. This minute division of the tone, or step, and
neglect at the same time of the broader harmonic intervals,
reminds one of work in which the artist charges his picture
with unimportant detail, while failing in attention to the
strong outlines. Among its merits we must not forget to
mention a certain quality of tone-color which inheres in the
Hawaiian tongue and which greatly tends to the enhancement of
Hawaiian music, especially when thrown into rhythmic forms.
The first thing, then, to repeat, that will strike the
auditor on listening to this primitive music will be its lack
of melody. The voice goes wavering and lilting along like a
canoe on a rippling ocean.
[Page 171] Then, of a sudden, it swells upward, as if lifted by some wave of emotion; and there for a time it travels with the same fluctuating movement, soon descending to its old monotone, until again moved to rise on the breast of some fresh impulse. The intervals sounded may be, as already said, a third, or a fifth, or a fourth; but the whole movement leads nowhere; it is an unfinished sentence. Yet, in spite of all these drawbacks and of this childish immaturity, the amateur and enthusiast finds himself charmed and held as if in the clutch of some Old-World spell, and this at what others will call the dreary and monotonous intoning of the savage.
In matters that concern the emotions it is rarely possible to
trace with certainty the lines that lead up from effect to
cause. Such is the nature of art. If we would touch the cause
which lends attractiveness to Hawaiian music, we must look
elsewhere than to melody. In the belief of the author the
two elements that conspire for this end are rhythm and
tone-color, which comes of a delicate feeling for
vowel-values.
The hall-mark of Hawaiian music is rhythm, for the Hawaiians
belong to that class of people who can not move hand or foot
or perform any action except they do it rhythmically. Not
alone in poetry and music and the dance do we find this
recurring accent of pleasure, but in every action of life it
seems to enter as a timekeeper and regulator, whether it be
the movement of a fingerful of poi to the mouth or the swing
of a *kahili* through the incense-laden air at the burial of
a chief.
The typical Hawaiian rhythm is a measure of four beats,
varied at times by a 2–rhythm, or changed by syncopation into
a 3–rhythm.
These people have an emotional susceptibility and a sympathy
with environment that belongs to the artistic temperament;
but their feelings, though easily stirred, are not persistent
and ideally centered; they readily wander away from any
example or pattern. In this way may be explained their
inclination to lapse from their own standard of rhythm into
inexplicable syncopations.
As an instance of sympathy with environment, an experience
with a hula dancer may be mentioned. Wishing to observe the
movement of the dance in time with the singing of the mele,
the author asked him to perform the two at one time. He made
the attempt, but failed. At length, bethinking himself, he
drew off his coat and bound it about his loins after the
fashion of a pa-ú, such as is worn by hula dancers. He at
once caught inspiration, and was thus enabled to perform the
double rôle of dancer and singer.
It has been often remarked by musical teachers who have had
experience with these islanders that as singers they are
prone to flat the tone and to drag the time, yet under the
stimulus of emotion they show the ability to acquit
themselves in these respects with great credit. The native
[Page 172] inertia of their being demands the spur of excitement to keep them up to the mark. While human nature everywhere shares in this weakness, the tendency seems to be greater in the Hawaiian than in some other races of no higher intellectual and esthetic advancement.
Another quality of the Hawaiian character which reenforces
this tendency is their spirit of communal sympathy. That is
but another way of saying that they need the stimulus of the
crowd, as well as of the occasion, even to make them keep
step to the rhythm of their own music. In all of these points
they are but an epitome of humanity.
Before closing this special subject, the treatment of which
has grown to an unexpected length, the author feels
constrained to add one more illustration of Hawaii’s musical
productions. The Hawaiian national hymn on its poetical side
may be called the last appeal of royalty to the nation’s
feeling of race-pride. The music, though by a foreigner, is
well suited to the words and is colored by the environment in
which the composer has spent the best years of his life. The
whole production seems well fitted to serve as the clarion of
a people that need every help which art and imagination can
offer.
XIV—Hawaii Ponoí
Words by King KALAKAUA
Composed by H. BERGER
[Music:]
[Page 173]
[Page 174]
*HAWAI’I PONOI*
1. Hawai’i ponoi,
Nana i kou Moi,
Ka lani Ali’i,
Ke Ali’i.
*Refrain*:
Makua lani, e,
Kamehameha, e,
Na kaua e pale,
Me ka ihe.
2. Hawai’i ponoi,
Nana i na ’li’i,
Na pua muli kou,
Na poki’i.
*Refrain*:
3. Hawai’i ponoi
E ka lahui, e,
O kau hana nui
E ui, e.
*Refrain*.
[Page 175]
[Translation.]
*Hawaii Ponoi*
1. Hawaii’s very own,
Look to your sovran Lord,
Your chief that’s heaven-born,
Who is your King.
*Refrain*:
Protector, heaven-sent,
Kamehameha great,
To vanquish every foe,
With conquering spear.
2. Men of Hawaii’s land,
Look to your native chiefs,
Your sole surviving lords,
The nation’s pride.
*Refrain*:
3. Men of Hawaiian stock,
My nation ever dear,
With loins begirt for work,
Strive with your might.
*Refrain*.
[Page 176]
XXII.—GESTURE
Gesture is a voiceless speech, a short-hand dramatic picture.
The Hawaiians were adepts in this sort of art. Hand and foot,
face and eye, and those convolutions of gray matter which are
linked to the organs of speech, all worked in such harmony
that, when the man spoke, he spoke not alone with his vocal
organs, but all over, from head to foot, every part adding
its emphasis to the utterance. Von Moltke could be reticent
in six languages; the Hawaiian found it impossible to be
reticent in one.
The hands of the hula dancer are ever going out in gesture,
her body swaying and pivoting itself in attitudes of
expression. Her whole physique is a living and moving picture
of feeling, sentiment, and passion. If the range of thought
is not always deep or high, it is not the fault of her art,
but the limitations of her original endowment, limitations of
hereditary environment, the universal limitations imposed on
the translation from spirit into matter.
The art of gesture was one of the most important branches
taught by the kumu. When the hula expert, the *olohe*, who
has entered the halau as a visitor, utters the prayer (p.
47), “O Laka, give grace to the feet of Pohaku, and to her
bracelets and anklets; give comeliness to the figure and
skirt of Luukia. To each one give gesture and voice. O Laka,
make beautiful the *lei*; inspire the dancers to stand before
the assembly,” his meaning was clear and unmistakable, and
showed his high valuation of this method of expression. We
are not, however, to suppose that the kumu-hula, whatever his
artistic attainments, followed any set of formulated
doctrines in his teaching. His science was implicit,
unformulated, still enfolded in the silence of
unconsciousness, wrapped like a babe in its mother’s womb. To
apply a scientific name to his method, it might be called
inductive, for he led his pupils along the plain road of
practical illustration, adding example to example, without
the confusing aid of preliminary rule or abstract
proposition, until his pupils had traveled over the whole
ground covered by his own experience.
Each teacher went according to the light that was in him, not
forgetting the instructions of his own kumu, but using them
as a starting point, a basis on which to build as best he
knew. There were no books, no manuals of instruction, to pass
from hand to hand and thus secure uniformity of instruction.
Then, again, it was a long journey from Hawaii to Kauai, or
[Page 177] even from one island to another. The different islands, as a rule, were not harnessed to one another under the same political yoke; even districts of the same island were not unfrequently under the independent sway of warring chiefs; so that for long periods the separation, even the isolation, in matters of dramatic art and practice was as complete as in politics.
The method pursued by the kumu may be summarized as follows:
Having labored to fix the song, the mele or oli, in the minds
of his pupils, the *haumana*, he appointed some one to recite
the words of the piece, while the class, standing with close
attention to the motions of the kumu and with ears open at
the same time to the words of the leader, were required to
repeat the kumu’s gestures in pantomime until he judged them
to have arrived at a sufficient degree of perfection. That
done, the class took up the double task of recitation joined
to that of gesture. In his attempt to translate his concepts
into physical signs the Hawaiian was favored not only by his
vivid power of imagination, but by his implicit philosophy,
for the Hawaiian looked at things from a physical plane—a
safe ground to stand upon—albeit he had glimpses at times
far into the depths of ether. When he talked about spirit, he
still had in mind a form of matter. A god was to him but an
amplified human being.
It is not the purpose to attempt a scientific classification
of gesture as displayed in the halau. The most that can be
done will be to give a few familiar generic illustrations
which are typical and representative of a large class.
The *pali*, the precipice, stands for any difficulty or
obstacle of magnitude. The Hawaiian represents this in his
dramatic, pictorial manner with the hand vertically posed on
the outstretched arm, the palm of the hand looking away. If
it is desired to represent this wall of obstacle as being
surmounted, the hand is pushed forward, and at the same time
somewhat inclined, perhaps, from its rigid perpendicularity,
the action being accompanied by a series of slight lifting or
waving movements as of climbing.
Another way of dramatically picturing this same concept, that
of the pali as a wall of obstacle, is by holding the forearm
and hand vertically posed with the palmar aspect facing the
speaker. This method of expression, while perhaps bolder and
more graphic than that before mentioned, seems more purely
oratorical and less graceful, less subtly pictorial and
elegant than the one previously described, and therefore less
adapted to the hula. For it must be borne in mind that the
hula demanded the subordination of strength to grace and
elegance. We may at the same time be sure that the halau
showed individuality in its choice of methods, that it varied
its technique and manner of expression at different times and
places, according to the different conception of one or
another kumu.
[Page 178] Progression, as in walking or traveling, is represented by means of a forward undulatory movement of the outstretched arm and hand, palm downward, in a horizontal plane. This gesture is rhythmic and beautifully pictorial. If the other hand also is made a partner in the gesture, the significance would seem to be extended, making it include, perhaps, a larger number in the traveling company. The mere extension of the arm, the back-hand advanced, would serve the purpose of indicating removal, travel, but in a manner less gracious and caressing.
To represent an open level space, as of a sand-beach or of
the earth-plain, the Hawaiian very naturally extended his
arms and open hands—palms downward, of course—the degree of
his reaching effort being in a sense a measure of the scope
intended.
To represent the act of covering or protecting oneself with
clothing, the Hawaiian placed the hollow of each hand over
the opposite shoulder with a sort of hugging action. But
here, again, one can lay down no hard and fast rule. There
was differentiation; the pictorial action might well vary
according to the actor’s conception of the three or more
generic forms that constituted the varieties of Hawaiian
dress, which were the *málo* of the man, the *pa-ú* of the
woman, and the decent *kiheí*, a toga-like robe, which, like
the blanket of the North American Indian, was common to both
sexes. Still another gesture, a sweeping of the hands from
the shoulder down toward the ground, would be used to
indicate that costly feather robe, the *ahuula*, which was
the regalia and prerogative of kings and chiefs.
The Hawaiian places his hands, palms up, edge to edge, so
that the little finger of one hand touches its fellow of the
other hand. By this action he means union or similarity. He
turns one palm down, so that the little finger and thumb of
opposite hands touch each other. The significance of the
action is now wholly reversed; he now means disunion,
contrariety.
To indicate death, the death of a person, the finger-tips,
placed in apposition, are drawn away from each other with a
sweeping gesture and at the same time lowered till the palms
face the ground. In this case also we find diversity. One old
man, well acquainted with hula matters, being asked to
signify in pantomimic fashion “the king is sick,” went
through the following motions: He first pointed upward, to
indicate the heaven-born one, the king; then he brought his
hands to his body and threw his face into a painful grimace.
To indicate the death of the king he threw his hands upward
toward the sky, as if to signify a removal by flight. He
admitted the accuracy of the gesture, previously described,
in which the hands are moved toward the ground.
There are, of course, imitative and mimetic gestures galore,
as of paddling, swimming, diving, angling, and the like,
[Page 179] which one sees every day of his life and which are to be regarded as parts of that universal shorthand vocabulary of unvocalized speech that is used the world over from Naples to Honolulu, rather than stage-conventions of the halau. It will suffice to mention one motion or gesture of this sort which the author has seen used with dramatic effect. An old man was describing the action of Hiiaka (the little sister of Pele) while clearing a passage for herself and her female companion with a great slaughter of the reptilian demon-horde of ma’o that came out in swarms to oppose the progress of the goddess through their territory while she was on her way to fetch Prince Lohiau. The goddess, a delicate piece of humanity in her real self, made short work of the little devils who covered the earth and filled the air. Seizing one after another, she bit its life out, or swallowed it as if it had been a shrimp. The old man represented the action most vividly: pressing his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger into a cone, he brought them quickly to his mouth, while he snapped his jaws together like a dog seizing a morsel, an action that pictured the story better than any words.
It might seem at first blush that facial expression,
important as it is, owing to its short range of
effectiveness, should hardly be put in the same category with
what may be called the major stage-gestures that were in
vogue in the halau. But such a judgment would certainly be
mistaken. The Greek use of masks on the stage for their
“carrying power” testified to their valuation of the
countenance as a semaphore of emotion; at the same time their
resort to this artifice was an implicit recognition of the
desirability of bringing the window of the soul nearer to the
audience. The Hawaiians, though they made no use of masks in
the halau, valued facial expression no less than the Greeks.
The means for the study of this division of the subject, from
the nature of the case, is somewhat restricted and the
pursuit of illustrations makes it necessary to go outside of
the halau.
The Hawaiian language was one of hospitality and invitation.
The expression *mai*, or *komo mai*, this way, or come in,
was the most common of salutations. The Hawaiian sat down to
meat before an open door; he ate his food in the sight of all
men, and it was only one who dared being denounced as a churl
who would fail to invite with word and gesture the passer-by
to come in and share with him. This gesture might be a
sweeping, downward, or sidewise motion of the hand in which
the palm faced and drew toward the speaker. This seems to
have been the usual form when the two parties were near to
each other; if they were separated by any considerable
distance, the fingers would perhaps more likely be turned
upward, thus making the signal more distinctly visible and at
the same time more emphatic.
[Page 180] In the expression of unvoiced assent and dissent the Hawaiian practised refinements that went beyond our ordinary conventions. To give assent he did not find it necessary so much as to nod the head; a lifting of the eyebrows sufficed. On the other hand, the expression of dissent was no less simple as well as decisive, being attained by a mere grimace of the nose. This manner of indicating dissent was not, perhaps, without some admixture of disdain or even scorn; but that feeling, if predominant, would call for a reenforcement of the gesture by some additional token, such as a pouting of the lips accompanied by an upward toss of the chin. A more impersonal and coldly businesslike way of manifesting a negative was by an outward sweep of the hand, the back of the hand being turned to the applicant. Such a gesture, when addressed to a huckster or a beggar—a rare bird, by the way, in old Hawaii—was accepted as final.
There was another method of signifying a most emphatic, even
contemptuous, no. In this the tongue is protruded and allowed
to hang down flat and wide like the flaming banner of a
panting hound. A friend states that the Maoris made great use
of gestures with the tongue in their dances, especially in
the war-dance, sometimes letting it hang down broad, flat,
and long, directly in front, sometimes curving it to right or
left, and sometimes stuffing it into the hollow of the cheek
and puffing out one side of the face. This manner—these
methods it might be said—of facial expression, so far as
observed and so far as can be learned, were chiefly of
feminine practice. The very last gesture—that of the
protruded tongue—is not mentioned as one likely to be
employed on the stage in the halau, certainly not in the
performance of what one would call the serious hulas. But it
might well have been employed in the hula ki’i (see p. 91),
which was devoted, as we have seen, to the portrayal of the
lighter and more comic aspects of daily life.
It is somewhat difficult to interpret the meaning of the
various attitudes and movements of the feet and legs. Their
remoteness from the centers of emotional control, their
detachment from the vortices of excitement, and their seeming
restriction to mechanical functions make them seem but
slightly sympathetic with those tides of emotion that speed
through the vital parts of the frame. But, though somewhat
aloof from, they are still under the dominion of, the same
emotional laws that govern the more central parts.
Man is all sympathy one part with another;
For head with heart hath joyful amity,
And both with moon and tides.
The illustrations brought to illuminate this division of the
subject will necessarily be of the most general application
and will seem to belong rather to the domain of oratory than
[Page 181] to that of dramatic or stage expression, by which is meant expression fitted for the purposes of the halau.
To begin with a general proposition, the attitude of the feet
and legs must be sympathetic with that of the other parts of
the body. When standing squarely on both feet and looking
directly forward, the action may be called noncommittal,
general; but if the address is specialized and directed to a
particular region, the face will naturally turn in that
direction. To attain this end, while the leg and arm of the
corresponding side will be drawn back, the leg and arm of the
opposite side will be advanced, thus causing the speaker to
face the point of address. If the speaker or the actor
addresses himself, then, to persons, or to an object, on his
right, the left leg will be the one more in advance and the
left arm will be the one on which the burden of gesture will
fall, and vice versa.
It would be a mistake to suppose that every motion or gesture
displayed by the actors on the stage of the halau was
significant of a purpose. To do that would be to ascribe to
them a flawless perfection and strength that no body of
artists have ever attained. Many of their gestures, like the
rhetoric of a popular orator, were mere flourishes and
ornaments. With a language so full of seemingly superfluous
parts, it could not well be otherwise than that their
rhetoric of gesture should be overloaded with flourishes.
The whole subject of gesture, including facial expression, is
worthy of profound study, for it is linked to the basic
elements of psychology. The illustrations adduced touch only
the skirts of the subject; but they must suffice. An
exhaustive analysis, the author believes, would show an
intimate and causal relation between these facial expressions
and the muscular movements that are the necessary
accompaniments or resultants of actual speech. To illustrate,
the pronunciation of the Hawaiian word *ae* (pronounced like
our aye), meaning “yes,” involves the opening of the mouth to
its full extent; and this action, when accomplished, results
in a sympathetic lifting of the eyebrows. It is this ultimate
and completing part of the action which the Hawaiian woman
adopts as her semaphore of assent.
One of the puzzling things about gesture comes when we try to
think of it as a science rooted in psychology. It is then we
discover variations presented by different peoples in
different lands, which force us to the conviction that in
only a part of its domain does it base itself on the strict
principles of psychology. Gesture, like language, seems to be
made up in good measure of an opportunist growth that springs
up in answer to man’s varying needs and conditions. The
writer hopes he will not be charged with begging the
question in suggesting that another element which we must
[Page 182] reckon with as influential in fashioning and stereotyping gesture is tradition and convention. To illustrate—the actor who took the rôle of Lord Dundreary in the first performance of the play of the same name accidentally made a fantastic misstep while crossing the stage. The audience was amused, and the actor, quick to avail himself of any open door, followed the lead thus hinted at. The result is that he won great applause and gave birth to a mannerism which has well-nigh become a stage convention. [Page 183]
XXIII.—THE HULA PA-HUA
The hula *pa-hua* was a dance of the classical times that has
long been obsolete. Its last exhibition, so far as
ascertained, was in the year 1846, on the island of Oahu. In
this performance both the olapa and the hoopaa cantillated
the mele, while the latter squatted on the floor. Each one
was armed with a sharp stick of wood fashioned like a
javelin, or a Hawaiian spade, the *o-ó*; and with this he
made motions, thrusting to right and to left; whether in
imitation of the motions of a soldier or of a farmer could
not be learned. The gestures of these actors were in perfect
time with the rhythm of the mele.
The dance-movements performed by the olapa, as the author has
heard them described, were peculiar, not an actual rotation,
but a sort of half-turn to one side and then to the other, an
advance followed by a retreat. While doing this the olapa,
who were in two divisions, marked the time of the movement by
clinking together two pebbles which they held in each hand.
The use of the pebbles after the manner of castanets, the
division of the dancers into two sets, their advance and
retreat toward and away from each other are all suggestive of
the Spanish bolero or fandango. The resemblance went deeper
than the surface. The prime motive of the song, the mele,
also is the same, love in its different phases even to its
most frenzied manifestations.
*Mele*
Pa au i ka ihe a Kane;[326]
Nana ka maka ia Koolau;[327]
Kau ka opua[327] ma ka moana.
Lu’u a e-a, lu’u a e-a,[329]
5 Hiki i Wai-ko-loa.
Aole loa ke kula
I ka pai-lani a Kane.[330]
Ke kane[331] ia no hoi ia
Ka hula pe-pe’e
10 A ka hale ku’i.
Ku’i oe a lono Kahiki-nui;
Hoolei ia iluna o Kaua-loa,
Ka lihilihi pua o ka makemake.
Mao ole ke Koolau i ka lihilihi.
13 He lihi kuleana ia no Puna.
O ko’u puni no ia o ka ike maka.
Aohe makamaka o ka hale, ua hele oe;
Nawai la au e hookipa
I keia mahaoi ana mai nei o ka loa?
20 He makemake no au e ike maka;
I hookahi no po, le’a ke kaunu,
Ka hana mao ole a ke anu.
He anu mawaho, a he hu’i ma-loko.
A ilaila laua la, la’i pono iho.
25 Ua pono oe o kaua, ua alu ka moena;
Ka hana mau a ka Inu-wai;
Mao ole i ka nui kino.
Ku’u kino keia mauna ia ha’i.
E Ku, e hoolei la!
30 A ua noa!
[Footnote 327: *Ihe a Kane*. The spear of Kane. What else can
this he than that old enemy to man’s peace and comfort, love,
passion?]
[Footnote 328: *Koolau*. The name applied to the weather side
of an island; the direction in which one would naturally turn
first to judge of the weather.]
[Footnote 329: *Opua*. A bunch of clouds; a cloud-omen; a
heavenly phenomenon; a portent. In this case it probably
means a lover. The present translation, is founded on this
view.]
[Footnote 330: *Lu’u a e-a*. To dive and then come up to take
breath, as one does in swimming out to sea against the
incoming breakers, or as one might do in escaping from a
pursuer, or in avoiding detection, after the manner of a
loon.]
[Footnote 331: *A Kane* and *Ke kane*. Instances of
word-repetition, previously mentioned as a fashion much used
in Hawaiian poetry. See instances also of the same figure in
lines 13 and 14 and in lines 16 and 17.]
[Page 184]
[Translation.]
*Song*
I am smitten with spear of Kane;
Mine eyes with longing scan Koolau;
Behold the love-omen hang o’er the sea.
I dive and come up, dive and come up;
5 Thus I reach my goal Wai-ko-loa.
The width of plain is a trifle
To the joyful spirit of Kane.
Aye, a husband, and patron is he
To the dance of the bended knee,
10 In the hall of the stamping feet.
Stamp, till the echo reaches Kahiki;
Still pluck you a wreath by the way
To crown your fondest ambition;
A wreath not marred by the salt wind
15 That plays with the skirts of Puna.
I long to look eye into eye.
Friendless the house, you away;
Pray who will receive, who welcome,
This guest uninvited from far?
20 I long for one (soul-deep) gaze,
One night of precious communion;
Such a flower wilts not in the cold—
Cold without, a tumult within.
What bliss, if we two were together!
25 You are the blest of us twain;
The mat bends under your form.
The thirsty wind, it still rages,
[Page 185] Appeased not with her whole body. My body is pledged to another. 30 Crown it, Ku, crown it. Now the service is free!
Some parts of this mele, which is a love-song, have defied
the author’s most strenuous efforts to penetrate their deeper
meaning. No Hawaiian consulted has made a pretense of
understanding it wholly. The Philistines of the middle of the
nineteenth century, into whose hands it fell, have not helped
matters by the emendations and interpolations with which they
slyly interlarded the text, as if to set before us in a
strong light the stigmata of degeneracy from which they were
suffering.
The author has discarded from the text two verses which
followed verse 28:
Hai’na ia mai ka puana:
Ka wai anapa i ke kala.
[Translation.]
Declare to me now the riddle:
The waters that flash on the plain.
The author has refrained from casting out the last two
verses, though in his judgment they are entirely out of place
and were not in the mele originally.
[Page 186]
XXIV—THE HULA PELE
The Hawaiian drama could lay hold of no worthier theme than
that offered by the story of Pele. In this epic we find the
natural and the supernatural, the everyday events of nature
and the sublime phenomena of nature’s wonderland, so
interwoven as to make a story rich in strong human and deific
coloring. It is true that the genius of the Hawaiian was not
equal to the task of assembling the dissevered parts and of
combining into artistic unity the materials his own
imagination had spun. This very fact, however, brings us so
much nearer to the inner workshop of the Hawaiian mind.
The story of Pele is so long and complicated that only a
brief abstract of it can be offered now:
Pele, the goddess of the volcano, in her dreams and
wanderings in spirit-form, met and loved the handsome Prince
Lohiau. She would not be satisfied with mere spiritual
intercourse; she demanded the sacrament of bodily presence.
Who should be the ambassador to bring the youth from his
distant home on Kauai? She begged her grown-up sisters to
attempt the task. They foresaw the peril and declined the
thankless undertaking. Hiiaka, the youngest and most
affectionate, accepted the mission; but, knowing her
sister’s evil temper, strove to obtain from Pele a guaranty
that her own forests and the life of her bosom friend Hopoe
should be safeguarded during her absence.
Hiiaka was accompanied by Wahine-oma’o—the woman in green—a
woman as beautiful as herself. After many adventures they
arrived at Haena and found Lohiau dead and in his sepulchre,
a sacrifice to the jealousy of Pele. They entered the cave,
and after ten days of prayer and incantation Hiiaka had the
satisfaction of seeing the body of Lohiau warmed and animated
by the reentrance of the spirit; and the company, now of
three, soon started on the return to Kilauea.
The time consumed by Hiiaka in her going and doing and
returning had been so long that Pele was moved to
unreasonable jealousy and, regardless of her promise to her
faithful sister, she devastated with fire the forest parks of
Hiiaka and sacrificed the life of Hiiaka’s bosom friend, the
innocent and beautiful Hopoe.
Hiiaka and Lohiau, on their arrival at Kilauea, seated
themselves on its ferny brink, and there, in the open view of
Pele’s court, Hiiaka, in resentment at the broken faith of
her sister and in defiance of her power, invited and received
[Page 187] from Lohiau the kisses and dalliance which up to that time she had repelled. Pele, in a frenzy of passion, overwhelmed her errant lover, Lohiau, with fire, turned his body into a pillar of rock, and convulsed earth and sea. Only through the intervention of the benevolent peacemaking god Kane was the order of the world saved from utter ruin.
The ancient Hawaiians naturally regarded the Pele hula with
special reverence by reason of its mythological importance,
and they selected it for performance on occasions of gravity
as a means of honoring the kings and alii of the land. They
would have considered its presentation on common occasions,
or in a spirit of levity, as a great impropriety.
In ancient times the performance of the hula Pele, like that
of all other plays, was prefaced with prayer and sacrifice.
The offering customarily used in the service of this hula
consisted of salt crystals and of luau made from the delicate
unrolled taro leaf. This was the gift demanded of every pupil
seeking admission to the school of the hula, being looked
upon as an offering specially acceptable to Pele, the patron
of this hula. In the performance of the sacrifice teacher and
pupil approached and stood reverently before the kuahu while
the former recited a mele, which was a prayer to the goddess.
The pupil ate the luau, the teacher placed the package of
salt on the altar, and the service was complete.
Both olapa and hoopaa took part in the performance of this
hula. There was little or no moving about, but the olapa did
at times sink down to a kneeling position. The performance
was without instrumental accompaniment, but with abundant
appropriate gestures. The subjects treated of were of such
dignity and interest as to require no extraneous
embellishment.
Perusal of the mele which follows will show that the story of
Pele dated back of her arrival in this group:
*He Oli—O ka mele mua keia o ka hula Pele*
Mai Kahiki ka wahine, o Pele,
Mai ka aina i Pola-pola,
Mai ka punohu ula a Kane,
Mai ke ao lalapa i ka lani,
5 Mai ka opua lapa i Kahiki.
Lapa-ku i Hawaii ka wahine, o Pele;
Kalai i ka wa’a Houna-i-a-kea,
Kou wa’a, e Ka-moho-alii.
I apo’a ka moku i pa’a;
10 Ua hoa ka wa’a o ke Akua,
Ka wa’a o Kane-kalai-honua.
Holo mai ke au, a’ea’e Pele-honua-mea;
A’ea’e ka Lani, ai-puni’a i ka moku;
A’ea’e Kini o ke Akua,
[Page 188] 15 Noho a’e o Malau. Ua ka ia ka liu o ka wa’a. Ia wai ka hope, ka uli o ka wa’a, e ne hoa ’lii? Ia Pele-honua-mea. A’ea’e kai hoe oluna o ka wa’a.
20 O Ku ma, laua o Lono,
Noho i ka honua aina,
Kau aku i hoolewa moku.
Hiiaka, noiau, he akua,
Ku ae, hele a noho i ka hale o Pele.
25 Huahua’i Kahiki, lapa uila, e Pele.
E hua’i, e!
[Translation.]
*A Song—The first song of the hula Pele*
From Kahiki came the woman, Pele,
From the land of Pola-pola,
From the red cloud of Kane,
Cloud blazing in the heavens,
5 Fiery cloud-pile in Kahiki.
Eager desire for Hawaii seized the woman, Pele;
She carved the canoe, Honua-i-a-kea,
Your canoe, O Ka-moho-alii.
They push the work on the craft to completion.
10 The lashings of the god’s canoe are done,
The canoe of Kane, the world-maker.
The tides swirl, Pele-honua-mea o’ermounts them;
The god rides the waves, sails about the island;
The host of little gods ride the billows;
15 Malau takes his seat;
One bales out the bilge of the craft.
Who shall sit astern, be steersman, O, princes?
Pele of the yellow earth.
The splash of the paddles dashes o’er the canoe.
20 Ku and his fellow, Lono,
Disembark on solid land;
They alight on a shoal.
Hiiaka, the wise one, a god,
Stands up, goes to stay at the house of Pele.
25 Lo, an eruption in Kahiki!
A flashing of lightning, O Pele!
Belch forth, O Pele!
Tradition has it that Pele was expelled from Kahiki by her
brothers because of insubordination, disobedience, and
disrespect to their mother, *Honua-mea*, sacred land. (If
Pele in Kahiki conducted herself as she has done in Hawaii,
rending and scorching the bosom of mother
earth—Honua-Mea—it is not to be wondered that her brothers
were anxious to get rid of her.) She voyaged north. Her
[Page 189] first stop was at the little island of Ka-ula, belonging to the Hawaiian group. She tunneled into the earth, but the ocean poured in and put a stop to her work. She had the same experience on Lehua, on Kiihau, and on the large island of Kauai. She then moved on to Oahu, hoping for better results; but though she tried both sides of the island, first mount Ka-ala—the fragrant—and then Konahuanui, she still found the conditions unsatisfactory. She passed on to Molokai, thence to Lanai, and to West Maui, and East Maui, at which last place she dug the immense pit of Hale-a-ka-la; but everywhere she was unsuccessful. Still journeying east and south, she crossed the wide Ale-nui-haha channel and came to Hawaii, and, after exploring in all directions, she was satisfied to make her home at Kilauea. Here is (ka piko o ka honua) the navel of the earth. Apropos of this effort of Pele to make a fire-pit for herself, see the song for the hula kuolo (p. 86), “A pit lies (far) to the east.”
*Mele*
A Kauai, a ke olewa [332] iluna,
Ka pua lana i kai o Wailua;
Nana mai Pele ilaila;
E waiho aku ana o Ahu.[333]
5 Aloha i ka wai niu o ka aina;
E ala mai ana mokihana,
Wai auau o Hiiaka.
Hoo-paapaa Pele ilaila;
Aohe Kau [334] e ulu ai.
10 Keehi aku Pele i ka ale kua-loloa,
He onohi no Pele, ka oaka o ka lani, la.
Eli-eli, kau mai!
[Translation.]
*Song*
To Kauai, lifted in ether,
A floating flower at sea off Wailua—
That way Pele turns her gaze,
She’s bidding adieu to Oahu,
5 Loved land of new wine of the palm. 5
There comes a perfumed waft—mokihana—
The bath of the maid Hiiaka.
Put by for future attention.
10 Her foot now spurns the long-backed wave; 10
The phosphor burns like Pele’s eye,
Or a meteor-flash in the sky.
Finished the prayer, enter, possess!
[Footnote 332: *Olewa*. Said to be the name of a wooded region
high up on the mountain of Kauai. It is here treated as if it
meant the heavens or the blue ether. Its origin is the same
with the word *lewa*, the upper regions of the air.]
[Footnote 333: *O Ahu*. In this instance the article still
finds itself disunited from its substantive. To-day we have
*Oahu* and *Ola’a*.]
[Footnote 334: *Kau*, The summer; time of warm weather; the
growing season.]
[Page 190] The incidents and allusions in this mele belong to the story of Pele’s journey in search of Lohiau, the lover she met in her dreams, and describe her as about to take flight from Oahu to Kauai (verse 4).
Hiiaka’s bath, *Wai auau o Hiiaka* (verse 7), which was the
subject of Pele’s contention (verse 8), was a spring of water
which Pele had planted at Huleia on her arrival from Kahiki.
The ones with whom Pele had the contention were
Kukui-lau-manienie and Kukui-lauhanahana, the daughters of
Lima-loa, the god of the mirage. These two women lived at
Huleia near the spring. Kamapua’a, the swinegod, their
accepted lover, had taken the liberty to remove the spring
from the rocky bed where Pele had planted it to a neighboring
hill. Pele was offended and demanded of the two women:
“Where is my spring of water?”
“Where, indeed, is your spring? You belong to Hawaii. What
have you to do with any spring on Kauai?” was their answer.
“I planted a clean spring here on this rock,” said Pele.
“You have no water here,” they insisted; “your springs are on
Hawaii.”
“If I were not going in search of my husband Lohiau,” said
Pele, “I would set that spring back again in its old place.”
“You haven’t the power to do that,” said they. “The son of
Kahiki-ula (Kama-puaa) moved it over there, and you can’t
undo his action.”
The eye of Pele, *He onohi no Pele* (verse 11), is the
phosphorescence which Pele’s footfall stirs to activity in
the ocean.
The formal ending of this mele, *Elieli, kau mai*, is often
found at the close of a mele in the hula Pele, and marks it
as to all intents and purposes a prayer.
*E waiho aku ana o Ahu* (verse 4). This is an instance of
the separation of the article *o* from the substantive *Ahu*,
to which it becomes joined to form the proper name of the
island now called Oahu.
*Mele*
Ke amo la ke ko’i ke akua la i-uka;
Haki nu’a-nu’a mai ka nalu mai Kahiki,
Po-po’i aku la i ke alo o Kilauea.[335]
Kanaka hea i ka lakou puaa kanu;
5 He wahine kui lei lehua i uka o Olaa,
Ku’u moku lehua i ke alo o He-eia.
O Kuku-ena[336] wahine,
Komo i ka lau-ki,
[Page 191] A’e-a’e a noho. 10 Eia makou, kou lau kaula la. Eli-eli, kau mai!
[Footnote 335: The figure in the second and third verses, of
waves from Kahiki (*nalu mai Kahiki*) beating against the
front of Kilauea (*Po-po’i aku la i ke alo o Kilauea*), seems
to picture the trampling of the multitude splashing the mire
as if it were, waves of ocean.]
[Footnote 336: *Kukuena*. There is some uncertainty as to who
this character was; probably the same as Haumea, the mother
of Pele.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
They bear the god’s ax up the mountain;
Trampling the mire, like waves from Kahiki
That beat on the front of Kilauea.
The people with offerings lift up a prayer;
5 A woman strings wreaths in Olaa—
Lehua grove mine bord’ring He-eia.
And now Kukuena, mother god,
Covers her loins with a pa-ú of ti leaf;
She mounts the altar; she sits.
10 Behold us, your conclave of priests.
Enter in, possess us!
This has the marks of a Hawaiian prayer, and as such it is
said to have been used in old times by canoe-builders when
going up into the mountains in search of timber. Or it may
have been recited by the priests and people who went up to
fell the lehua tree from which to carve the Makahiki[337] idol;
or, again, may it possibly have been recited by the company
of hula folk who climbed the mountain in search of a tree to
be set up in the halau as a representation of the god whom
they wished to honor? This is a question the author can not
settle. That it was used by hula folk is indisputable, but
that would not preclude its use for other purposes.
*Mele*
Ku i Wailua ka pou hale[338]
Ka ipu hoolono i ka uwalo,
Ka wawa nui, e Ulupo.
Aole uwalo mai, e.
5 Aloha nui o Ikuwa, Mahoena.
Ke lele la ka makawao o ka hinalo.
Aia i Maná ka oka’i o ka ua o Eleao;
Ke holu la ka a’ahu o Ka-ú [339] i ka makani;
Ke puhi a’e la ka ale kumupali o Ka-ú, Honuapo;
10 Ke hakoko ka niu o Paiaha’a i ka makani.
Uki-uki oukou:
Ke lele la ke kai;
Lele iao,[340] lele!
O ka makani Koolau-wahine,
[Page 192] 15 O ka Moa’e-ku. Lele ua, lele kawa! [341] Lele aku, lele mai! Lele o-ó,[342] o-ó lele; [343] Lele opuhi,[344] lele; 20 Lele o Kauná,[345] kaha oe. E Hiiaka e, ku!
[Footnote 337: For an account of the Makahiki idol see Hawaiian
Antiquities, p. 189, by David Malo; translated by N.B.
Emerson, A.M., M.D., Honolulu, Hawaiian Gazette Company
(Limited), 1903.]
[Footnote 338: *Pou hele*. The main post of a house, which is
here intended, was the *pou-haná*; it was regarded with a
superstitious reverence.]
[Footnote 339: *A’hu o Ka-u*. A reference, doubtless, to the
long grass that once covered Ka-ú.]
[Footnote 340: *I-áo*. A small fish that took short flights in
the air.]
[Footnote 341: *Lele kawa*. To jump in sport from a height into
the water.]
[Footnote 342: *Lele o-ó*. To leap feet first into the water.]
[Footnote 343: *O-ó lele*. To dive head first into the water.]
[Footnote 344: *Lele opuhi*. The same as *pahi’a*, to leap
obliquely into the water from a height, bending oneself so
that the feet come first to the surface.]
[Footnote 345: *Kauná*. A woman of Ka-ú celebrated for her
skill in the hula, also the name of a cape that reaches out
into the stormy ocean.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
At Wailua stands the main house-post;
This oracle harks to wild voices,
Tumult and clamor, O Ulu-po;
It utters no voice to entreaty.
5 Alas for the prophet that’s dumb!
But there drifts the incense of hala.
Maná sees the rain-whirl of Eleao.
The robe of Ka-ú sways in the wind,
That dashes the waves ’gainst the sea-wall,
10 At Honu-apo, windy Ka-ú;
The Pai-ha’a palms strive with the gale.
Such weather is grievous to you:
The sea-scud is flying.
My little i-ao, O fly
15 With the breeze Koolau!
Fly with the Moa’e-ku!
Look at the rain-mist fly!
Leap with the cataract, leap!
Plunge, now here, now there!
20 Feet foremost, head foremost;
Leap with a glance and a glide!
Kauná, opens the dance; you win.
Rise, Hiiaka, arise!
The meaning of this mele centers about a phenomenon that is
said to have been observed at Ka-ipu-ha’a, near Wailua, on
Kauai. To one standing on a knoll near the two cliffs Ikuwa
and Mahoena (verse 5) there came, it is said, an echo from
the murmur and clamor of the ocean and the moan of the wind,
a confused mingling of nature’s voices. The listener,
however, got no echoing answer to his own call.
The mele does not stick to the unities as we understand them.
The poets of old Hawaii felt at liberty to run to the ends of
their earth; and the auditor must allow his imagination to be
transported suddenly from one island to another; in this
[Page 193] case, first from Wailua to Maná on the same island, where he is shown the procession of whirling rain clouds of Eleao (verse 7). Thence the poet carries him to Honuapo, Hawaii, and shows him the waves dashing against the ocean-walls and the clashing of the palm-fronds of Paiaha’a in the wind.
The scene shifts back to Kauai, and one stands with the poet
looking down on a piece of ocean where the people are wont to
disport themselves. (Maka-iwa, not far from Ka-ipu-ha’a, is
said to be such a place.) Verses 12 to 19 in the Hawaiian (13
to 21 in the translation) describe the spirited scene.
It is somewhat difficult to determine whether the Kauná
mentioned in the next poem is the name of the woman or of the
stormy cape. In the mind of a Hawaiian poet the inanimate and
the animate are often tied so closely together in thought and
in speech as to make it hard to decide which is intended.
*Mele*
Ike ia Kauná-wahine, Makani Ka-ú,
He umauma i pa ia e ka Moa’e,
E ka makani o-maka o Unulau.
Lau ka wahine kaili-pua o Paía,
5 Alualu puhala o ka Milo-pae-kanáka, e-e-e-e!
He kanáka ke koa no ka ehu ahiahi,
O ia nei ko ka ehu kakahiaka—
O maua no, me ka makua o makou.
Ua ike ’a!
[Translation.]
*Song*
Behold Kauná, that sprite of windy Ka-ú,
Whose bosom is slapped by the Moa’e-kú,
And that eye-smiting wind Unulaú—
Women by hundreds filch the bloom
5 Of Paía, hunt fruit of the hala, a-ha!
That one was the gallant, at evening,
This one the hero of love, in the morning—
’Twas our guardian I had for companion.
Now you see it, a-ha!
This mele, based on a story of amorous rivalry, relates to a
contest which arose between two young women of rank regarding
the favors of that famous warrior and general of Kamehameha,
Kalaimoku, whom the successful intrigante described as _ka
makua o makou_ (verse 8), our father, i.e., our guardian. The
point of view is that of the victorious intrigante, and in
speaking of her defeated rival she uses the ironical language
of the sixth verse, *He kanáka ke koa no ka ehu ahiahi*
meaning that her opponent’s chance of success faded with the
evening twilight, whereas her own success was crowned with
[Page 194] the glow of morning, O ia neí ko ka ehu kakahiaka (verse 7). The epithet kanáka hints ironically that her rival is of lower rank than herself, though in reality the rank of her rival may have been superior to her own.
The language, as pointed out by the author’s informant, is
marked with an elegance that stamps it as the product of a
courtly circle.
*Mele*
E oe mauna i ka ohu,
Kahá, ka leo o ka ohi’a;
Auwe! make au i ke ahi a mau
A ka luahine[346] moe naná,
5 A papa enaena, wai hau,
A wa’a kau-hí.[347]
Haila pepe[348] mua me pepe waena,
O pepe ka muimui:
O kiele[348] i na ulu[348]
10 Ka makahá kai kea
O Niheu[349] kolohe;
Ka makaha kai kea!
Eli-eli, kau mai.
[Translation.]
*Song*
Ho! mountain of vapor-puffs,
Now groans the mountain-apple tree.
Alas! I burn in this deathless flame,
That is fed by the woman who snores
5 On a lava plate, now hot, now cold;
Now ’tis a canoe full-rigged for sea;
There are seats at the bow, amidships, abaft;
Baggage and men—all is aboard.
And now the powerful thrust of the paddle,
[Page 195] 10 Making mighty swirl of wat’ry yeast, As of Nihéu, the mischief-maker— A mighty swirl of the yeasty wave. In heaven’s name, come aboard!
[Footnote 346: Pele is often spoken of as *ka luahine*, the old
woman; but she frequently used her power of transformation to
appear as a young woman of alluring beauty.]
[Footnote 347: Lava poured out in plates and folds and coils
resembles many diverse things, among others the canoe, *wa’a*
here characterized as complete in its appointments and ready
for launching, *kauhí*. The words are subtly intended, no
doubt, to convey the thought of Pele’s readiness to launch on
the voyage of matrimony.]
[Footnote 348: *Pepe*, a seat; *kiele*, to paddle; and *ulu*, a
shortened form of the old word *oulu*, meaning a paddle, are
archaisms now obsolete.]
[Footnote 349: Nihéu. One of the mythological heroes of an
old-time adventure, in which his elder brother Kana, who had
the form of a long rope, played the principal part. This one
enterprise of their life in which they joined forces was for
the rescue of their mother, Hina, who had been kidnaped by a
marauding chief and carried from her home in Hilo to the bold
headland of Haupu, Molokai. Nihéu is generally stigmatized as
*kolohe* (verse 11), mischievous, for no other reason
apparently than that he was an active spirit, full of
courage, given to adventure and heaven-defying audacities,
such as put the Polynesian Mawi and the Greek Prometheus in
bad odor with the gods of their times. One of these offensive
actions was Nihéu’s theft of a certain *ulu*, breadfruit,
which one of the gods rolled with a noise like that of
thunder in the underground caverns of the southern regions of
the world. Nihéu is represented as a great sport, an athlete,
skilled in all the games of his people. The worst that could
be said of him was that he had small regard for other
people’s rights and that he was slow to pay his debts of
honor.]
After the death of Lohiau, his best friend, Paoa, came before
Pele determined to invite death by pouring out the vials of
his wrath on the head of the goddess. The sisters of Pele
sought to avert the impending tragedy and persuaded him to
soften his language and to forego mere abuse. Paoa, a
consummate actor, by his dancing, which has been perpetuated
in the hula Pele, and by his skillfully-worded prayer-songs,
one of which is given above, not only appeased Pele, but won
her.
The piece next appearing is also a song that was a prayer,
and seems to have been uttered by the same mouth that
groaned forth the one given above.
It does not seem necessary to take the language of the mele
literally. The sufferings that the person in the mele
describes in the first person, it seems to the author, may be
those of his friend Lohiau; and the first person is used for
literary effect.
*Mele[350]*
Aole e mao ka ohu:
Auwe! make au i ke ahi a mau
A ka wahine moe naná,
A papa ena-ena,
5 A wa’a kau-hí.
Ilaila pepe mua me pepe waena,
O pepe ka mu’imu’i,
O lei’na kiele,
Kau-meli-eli: [351]
10 Ka maka kakahi kea
O Niheu kolohe—
Ka maka kaha-kai kea.
Eli-eli, kau mai!
[Translation.]
*Song*
Alas, there’s no stay to the smoke;
I must die mid the quenchless flame—
Deed of the hag who snores in her sleep,
Bedded on lava plate oven-hot.
5 Now it takes the shape of canoe;
[Page 196] Seats at the bow and amidships, And the steersman sitting astern; Their stroke stirs the ocean to foam— The myth-craft, Kau-meli-eli! 10 Now look, the white gleam of an eye— It is Nihéu, the turbulent one— An eye like the white sandy shore. Amen, possess me!
[Footnote 350: The remarks on pp. 194 and 195 regarding the
mele on p. 194 are mostly applicable to this mele.]
[Footnote 351: *Kau-meli-eli*. The name of the double canoe
which brought a company of the gods from the lands of the
South—Kukulu o Kahiki—to Hawaii. Hawaiian myths refer to
several migrations of the gods to Hawaii; one of them is that
described in the mele given on p. 187, the first mele in this
The mele now to be given has the form of a serenade.
Etiquette forbade anyone to wake the king by rude touch, but
it was permissible for a near relative to touch his feet.
When the exigencies of business made it necessary for a
messenger, a herald, or a courtier to disturb the sleeping
monarch, he took his station at the king’s feet and recited a
serenade such as this:
*Mele Hoala *(no ka Hula Pele)
E ala, e Kahiki-ku;[352]
E ala, e Kahiki-moe; [352]
E ala, e ke apapa nu’u;[353]
E ala, e ke apapa lani.[353]
5 Eia ka hoala nou, e ka lani[354] la, e-e!
E ala oe!
E ala, ua ao, ua malamalama.
Aia o Kape’a ma,[355] la, i-luna;
Ua hiki mai ka maka o Unulau; [356]
[Page 197] 10 Ke hóolalé mai la ke kupa holowa’a o Ukumehame,[357] Ka lae makani kaohi-wa’a o Papawai,[358] Ka lae makani o’Anahenahe la, e-e! E ala oe!
E ala, ua ao, ua malamalama;
15 Ke o a’e la ke kukuna o ka La i lea ili o ke kai;
Ke hahai a’e la, e like me Kumukahi [359]
E hoaikane ana me Makanoni;
Ka papa o Apua, ua lohi i ka La.
E ala oe!
20 E ala, ua ao, ua malamalama;
Ke kau aku la ka La i Kawaihoa:
Ke kolii aku la ka La i ka ili o ke kai;
Ke anai mai la ka iwa auai-maka o Lei-no-ai,
I ka lima o Maka-iki-olea,
25 I ka poli wale o Lehua la.
E ala oe!
[Footnote 352: Hawaiians conceived of the dome of heaven as a
solid structure supported by walls that rested on the earth’s
plain. Different names were given to different sections of
the wall. *Kahiki-ku* and *Kahiki-moe* were names applied to
certain of these sections. It would, however, be too much, to
expect any Hawaiian, however intelligent and well versed in
old lore, to indicate the location of these regions.]
[Footnote 353: The words *apapa nu’u* and *apapa lani*, which
convey to the mind of the author the picture of a series of
terraced plains or steppes—no doubt the original
meaning—here mean a family or order of gods, not of the
highest rank, at or near the head of which stood Pele.
Apropos of this subject the following lines have been quoted:
Hanau ke apapa nu’u:
Hanau ke apapa lani;
Hanau Pele, ka hihi’o na lani.
[Translation.]
Begotten were the gods of graded rank;
Begotten were the gods of heavenly rank;
Begotten was Pele, quintessence of heaven.
This same expression was sometimes used to mean an order of
chiefs, *alii. Apapa lani* was also used to mean the highest
order of gods, *Ku, Kane, Kanaloa, Lono*. The kings also were
gods, for which reason this expression at times applied to
the alii of highest rank, those, for instance, who inherited
the rank of *niau-pi’o* or of *wohi.*]
[Footnote 354: *Lani*. Originally the heavens, came to mean
king, chief, *alii*.]
[Footnote 355: There is a difference of opinion as to the
meaning of *Kape’a ma*. After hearing diverse opinions the
author concludes that it refers to the rays of the sun that
precede its rising—a Greek idea.]
[Footnote 356: *Unulau*. A name for the trade-wind which, owing
to the conformation of the land, often sweeps down with great
force through the deep valleys that seam the mountains of
west Maui between Lahaina and Maalaea bay; such a wind squall
was called a *mumuku*.]
[Footnote 357: *Ukumehame*. The name of a deep valley on west
Maui in the region above described.]
[Footnote 358: *Papawai*. The principal cape on west Maui
between Lahaina and Maalaea bay.]
[Footnote 359: *Kumu-kahi*. A cape in Puna, the easternmost
object of his eager pursuit after coming out of his eastern
gate Ha’eha’e. The name was also applied to a pillar of stone
that was planted on the northern border of this cape.
Standing opposite to it, on the southern side, was the
monolith Makanoni. In summer the sun in its northern
excursion inclined, as the Hawaiians noted, to the side of
Kumukahi, while in the season of cool weather, called
Makalii, it swung in the opposite direction and passed over
to Makanoni. The people of Puna accordingly said, “The sun
has passed over to Makanoni,” or “The sun has passed over to
Kumukahi,” as the case might be. These two pillars are said
to be of such a form as to suggest the thought that they are
phallic emblems, and this conjecture is strengthened by
consideration of the tabus connected with them and of the
religious ceremonies peformed before them. The Hawaiians
speak of them as *pohaku eho*, which, the author believes,
is the name given to a phallus, and describe them as plain
uncarved pillars.
These stones were set up in very ancient times and are said
to have been tabu to women at the times of their infirmity.
If a woman climbed upon them at such a period or even set
foot upon the platform on which one of them stood she was put
to death. Another stringent tabu forbade anyone to perform an
office of nature while his face was turned toward one of
these pillars.
The language of the mele, *Ke hahai ae la e like me Kumukahi*
(verse 16), implies that the sun chased after Kumukahi.
Apropos of this is the following quotation from an article on
the phallus in Chambers’s Encyclopedia: “The common myth
concerning it [the phallus] was the story of some god
deprived of his power of generation—an allusion to the sun,
which in autumn loses its fructifying influence.”
In modern times there seems to have grown up a curious
mixture of traditions about these two stones, in which the
old have become overlaid with new superstitions; and these
last in turn seem to be dying out. They are now vaguely
remembered as relics of old demigods, petrified forms of
ancient *kupua*.[360] Fishermen, it is said, not long ago
offered sacrifices to them, hoping thus to purchase good
luck. Any offense against them, such as that by women, above
mentioned, or by men, was atoned for by offering before these
ancient monuments the first fish that came to the fisherman’s
hook or net.
Mention of the name Kumu-kahi to a Hawaiian versed in ancient
lore called up to his memory the name of Pala-moa as his
associate. The account this old man gave of them was that
they were demigods much worshiped and feared for their power
and malignity. They were reputed to be cannibals on the sly,
and, though generally appearing in human form, were capable
of various metamorphoses, thus eluding detection. They were
believed to have the power of taking possession of men
through spiritual obsession, as a result of which the
obsessed ones were enabled to heal sickness as well as to
cause it, to reveal secrets, and to inflict death, thus
terrifying people beyond measure. The names of these, two
demigods, especially that of Palamoa, are to this day
appealed to by practitioners of the black arts.]
[Footnote 360: The Hawaiian alphabet had no letter *s*. The
Hawaiians indicated the plural by prefixing the particle
*na*.]
[Page 198]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Awake now, Kahiki-ku;
Awake now, Kahiki-moe;
Awake, ye gods of lower grade;
Awake, ye gods of heavenly rank.
5 A serenade to thee, O king.
Awake thee!
Awake, it is day, it is light;
The Day-god his arrows is shooting,
Unulau his eye far-flashing,
10 Canoe-men from Uku-me-hame
Are astir to weather the windy cape,
The boat-baffling cape, Papa-wai,
And the boisterous A-nahe-nahe.
Awake thee!
15 Awake, day is come and the light;
The sun-rays stab the skin of the deep;
It pursues, as did god Kumu-kahi
To companion with god Maka-noni;
The plain of Apua quivers with heat.
20 Awake thee!
Awake, ’tis day, ’tis light;
The sun stands over Waihoa,
Afloat on the breast of ocean;
The iwa of Leinoai is preening
25 On the cliff Maka-iki-olea.
On the breast of naked Lehua.
Awake thee! awake!
The following is a prayer said to have been used at the time
of awa-drinking. When given in the hula, the author is
informed, its recitation was accompanied by the sound of the
drum.
*He Pule no Pele*
PALE I
O Pele la ko’u akua:
Miha ka lani, miha ka honua.
Awa iku, awa lani;
Kai awaawa, ka awa nui a Hiiaka,
5 I kua i Mauli-ola;[361]
He awa kapu no na wahine.
E kapu!
Ka’i kapu kou awa, e Pele a Honua-mea;
E kala, e Haumea wahine,
10 O ka wahine i Kilauea,
Nana i eli a hohonu ka lua
O Mau-wahine, o Kupu-ena,
O na wahine i ka inu-hana awa.
E ola na ’kua malihini![362]
PALE II
15 I kama’a-ma’a la i ka pua-lei;
E loa ka wai apua,
Ka pii’na i Ku-ka-la-ula;[363]
Hoopuka aku i Puu-lena,
Aina a ke Akua i noho ai.
[Page 199] 20 Kanaenae a ke Akua malihini;[362] O ka’u wale iho la no ia, o ka leo, He leo wale no, e-e! E ho-i! Eia ka ai!
[Footnote 361: *Mauli-ola*. A god of health; perhaps also the
name of a place. The same word also was applied to the breath
of life, or to the physician’s power of healing. In the Maori
tongue the word *mauri*, corresponding to *mauli*, means
life, the seat of life. In Samoan the word *mauli* means
heart. “Sneeze, living heart” (*Tihe mauri ora*), says the
Maori mother to her infant when it sneezes. For this bit of
Maori lore acknowledgment is due to Mr. S. Percy Smith, of
New Zealand.]
[Footnote 362: According to one authority, at the close of the
first canto the stranger gods—*akua malihini*—who consisted
of that multitude of godlings called the *Kini Akua*, took
their departure from the ceremony, since they did not belong
to the Pele family. Internal evidence, however, the study of
the prayer itself in its two parts, leads the writer to
disagree with this authority. Other Hawaiians of equally
deliberate judgment support him in this opinion. The
etiquette connected with ceremonious awa-drinking, which the
Samoans of to-day still maintain in full form, long ago died
out in Hawaii. This etiquette may never have been cultivated
here to the same degree as in its home, Samoa; but this poem
is evidence that the ancient Hawaiians paid greater attention
to it than they of modern times. The reason for this decline
of ceremony must be sought for in the mental and esthetic
make-up of the Hawaiian people; it was not due to any lack of
fondness in the Hawaiian for awa as a beverage or as an
intoxicant. It is no help to beg the question by ascribing
the decline of this etiquette to the influence of social
custom. To do so would but add one more link to the chain
that binds cause to effect. The Hawaiian mind was not
favorable to the observance of this sort of etiquette; it did
not afford a soil fitted to nourish such an artificial
growth.]
[Footnote 363: The meaning of the word *Ku-ka-la-ula* presented
great difficulty and defied all attempts at translation until
the suggestion was made by a bright Hawaiian, which was
adopted with satisfaction, that it probably referred to that
state of dreamy mental exaltation which comes with
awa-intoxication. This condition, like that of frenzy, of
madness, and of idiocy, the Hawaiian regarded as a divine
possession.]
[Translation.]
*A Prayer to Pele*
CANTO I
Lo, Pele’s the god of my choice:
Let heaven and earth in silence wait
Here is awa, potent, sacred,
Bitter sea, great Hiiaka’s root;
5 ’Twas cut at Mauli-ola—
Awa to the women forbidden,
Let it tabu be!
Exact be the rite of your awa,
O Pele of the sacred land.
[Page 200] 10 Proclaim it, mother. Haumea, Of the goddess of Kilauea; She who dug the pit world-deep, And Mau-wahine and Kupu-ena, Who prepare the awa for drink. 15 A health to the stranger gods!
CANTO II
Bedeck now the board for the feast;
Fill up the last bowl to the brim;
Then pour a draught in the sun-cave
Shall flow to the mellow haze,
20 That tints the land of the gods.
All hail to the stranger gods!
This my offering, simply a voice,
Only a welcoming voice.
Turn in!
25 Lo, the feast!
This prayer, though presented in two parts or cantos, is
really one, its purpose being to offer a welcome, *kanaenae*,
to the feast and ceremony to the gods who had a right to
expect that courtesy.
One more mele of the number specially used in the hula Pele:
*Mele*
Nou paha e, ka inoa
E ka’i-ka’i ku ana,
A kau i ka nuku.
E hapa-hapai a’e;
5 A pa i ke kihi
O Ki-lau-é-a.
Ilaila ku’u kama,
O Ku-nui-akea.[364]
Hookomo a’e iloko
10 A o Hale-ma’u-ma’u;[365]
A ma-ú na pu’u
E óla-olá, nei.
E kulipe’e nui ai-ahua.[366]
E Pele, e Pele!
15 E Pele, e Pele!
Huai’na! huai’na!
Ku ia ka lani,
Pae a huila!
[Footnote 364: Kalakaua, for whom all these fine words are
intended, could no more claim kinship with Ku-nui-akea, the
son of Kau-i-ke-aouli, than with Julius Cæsar.]
[Footnote 365: *Hale-mau-mau*. Used figuratively of the mouth,
whose hairy fringe—moustache and beard—gives it a fancied
resemblance to the rough lava pit where Pele dwelt. The
figure, to us no doubt obscure, conveyed to the Hawaiian the
idea of trumpeting the name and making it famous.]
[Footnote 366: *E kuli-pe’e nui ai-ahua*. Pele is here figured
as an old, infirm woman, crouching and crawling along; a
character and attitude ascribed to her, no doubt, from the
fancied resemblance of a lava flow, which, when in the form
of *a-á*, rolls and tumbles along over the surface of the
ground in a manner suggestive of the motions and attitude of
a palsied crone.]
[Page 201]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Yours, doubtless, this name.
Which people are toasting
With loudest acclaim.
Now raise it, aye raise it,
5 Till it reaches the niches
Of Kí-lau-é-a.
Enshrined is there my kinsman,
Kú-núi-akéa.
Then give it a place
10 In the temple of Pele;
And a bowl for the throats
That are croaking with thirst.
Knock-kneed eater of land,
O Pele, god Pele!
15 O Pele, god Pele!
Burst forth now! burst forth!
Launch a bolt from the sky!
Let thy lightnings fly:
When this poem[367] first came into the author’s hands, though
attracted by its classic form and vigorous style, he could
not avoid being repelled by an evident grossness. An old
Hawaiian, to whom he stated his objections, assured him that
the mele was innocent of all bad intent, and when the
offensive word was pointed out he protested that it was an
interloper. The substitution of the right word showed that
the man was correct. The offense was at once removed. This
set the whole poem in a new light and it is presented with
satisfaction. The mele is properly a name-song, *mele-inoa*.
The poet represents some one as lifting a name to his mouth
for praise and adulation. He tells him to take it to
Kilauea—that it may reecho, doubtless, from the walls of the
crater.
[Footnote 367: It is said to be the work of a hula-master, now
some years dead, by the name of Namakeelua.]
[Page 202]
XXV.—THE HULA PA’I-UMAUMA
The hula *pa’i-umauma*—chest-beating hula—called also hula
*Pa-láni*,[368] was an energetic dance, in which the actors,
who were also the singers, maintained a kneeling position,
with the buttocks at times resting on the heels. In spite
of the restrictions imposed by this attitude, they managed
to put a spirited action into the performance; there were
vigorous gestures, a frequent smiting of the chest with the
open hand, and a strenuous movement of the pelvis and lower
motions, sidewise, backward, forward, and in a circular or
elliptical orbit, all of which was done with the precision
worthy of an acrobat, an accomplishment attained only after
long practice. It was a hula of classic celebrity, and was
performed without the accompaniment of instrumental music.
[Footnote 368: *Paláni*, French, so called at Moanalua because
a woman who was its chief exponent was a Catholic, one of the
“poe Paláni.” Much odium has been laid to the charge of the
hula on account of the supposed indecency of the motion
termed *ami*. There can be no doubt that the ami was at times
used to represent actions unfit for public view, and so far
the blame is just. But the ami did not necessarily nor always
represent obscenity, and to this extent the hula has been
unjustly maligned.]
In the mele now to be given the poet calls up a succession of
pictures by imagining himself in one scenic position after
another, beginning at Hilo and passing in order from one
island to another—omitting, however, Maui—until he finds
himself at Kilauea, an historic and traditionally interesting
place on the windward coast of the garden-island, Kauai. The
order of travel followed by the poet forbids the supposition
that the Kilauea mentioned is the great caldera of the
volcano on Hawaii in which Pele had her seat.
It is useless to regret that the poet did not permit his muse
to tarry by the way long enough to give us something more
than a single eyeshot at the quickly shifting scenes which
unrolled themselves before him, that so he might have given
us further reminiscence of the lands over which his Pegasus
bore him. Such completeness of view, however, is alien to the
poesy of Hawaii.
[Page 203]
*Mele*
A Hilo au e, hoolulu ka lehua[369];
A Wai-luku la, i ka Lua-kanáka[370];
A Lele-iwi[371] la, au i ke kai;
A Pana-ewa[372], i ka ulu-lehua;
5 A Ha-ili[373], i ke kula-manu;
A Mologai, i ke ala-kahi,
Ke kula o Kala’e[374] wela i ka la;
Mauna-loa[375] la, Ka-lua-ko’i[376], e;
Na hala o Nihoa[377], he mapuna la;
10 A Ko’i-ahi[378] au, ka maile lau-lu la;
A Makua[379] la, i ke one opio-pio[380],
E holu ana ke kai o-lalo;
He wahine a-po’i-po’i[381] e noho ana,
A Kilauea[382], i ke awa ula.
[Translation.]
*Song*
At Hilo I rendezvoused with the lehua;
By the Wailuku stream, near the robber-den;
Off cape Lele-iwi I swam in the ocean;
At Pana-ewa, mid groves of lehua;
5 At Ha-ili, a forest of flocking birds.
On Molokai I travel its one highway;
I saw the plain of Kala’e quiver with heat,
And beheld the ax-quarries of Mauna-loa.
Ah, the perfume Nihoa’s pandanus exhales!
10 Ko’i-ahi, home of the small-leafed maile;
And now at Makua, lo, its virgin sand,
While ocean surges and scours on below.
Lo, a woman crouched on the shore by the sea,
In the brick-red bowl, Kilauea’s bay.
[Footnote 369: *Lehúa.* A tree that produces the tufted scarlet
flower that is sacred to the goddess of the hula, Laka.]
[Footnote 370: *Lua-kanáka.* A deep and dangerous crossing at
the Wailuku river, which is said to have been the cause of
death by drowning of very many. Another story is that it was
once the hiding place of robbers.]
[Footnote 371: *Lele-iwi.* The name of a cape at Hilo, near the
mouth of the Wai-luku river;—water of destruction.]
[Footnote 372: *Pana-ewa.* A forest region in Ola’a much
mentioned in myth and poetry.]
[Footnote 373: *Haili.* A region in Ola’a, a famous resort for
bird-catchers.]
[Footnote 374: *Ka-la’e.* A beautiful place in the uplands back
of Kaunakakai, on Molokai.]
[Footnote 375: *Mauna-loa.* The mountain in the western part of
Molokai.]
[Footnote 376: *Ka-lua-ko’i.* A place on this same Mauna-loa
where was quarried stone suitable for making the Hawaiian
ax.]
[Footnote 377: *Nihoa.* A small land near Kalaupapa, Molokai,
where was a grove of fine pandanus trees.]
[Footnote 378: *Ko’i-ahi.* A small valley in the district of
Waianae, Oahu, where was the home of the small-leafed maile.]
[Footnote 379: *Makua.* A valley in Waianae.]
[Footnote 380: *One opio-pio.* Sand freshly smoothed by an
ocean wave.]
[Footnote 381: *Apo’i-po’i.* To crouch for the purpose,
perhaps, of screening oneself from view, as one, for
instance, who is naked and desires to escape observation.]
[Footnote 382: *Kilauea.* There is some doubt whether this is
the Kilauea on Kauai or a little place of the same name near
cape Kaena, the westernmost point of Oahu.]
[Page 204] In the next mele to be given it is evident that, though the motive is clearly Hawaiian, it has lost something of the rugged simplicity and impersonality that belonged to the most archaic style, and that it has taken on the sentimentality of a later period.
*Mele*
E Manono la, e-a,
E Manono la, e-a,
Kau ka ópe-ópe;
Ka ulu hala la, e-a,
5 Ka uluhe la, e-a.
Ka uluhe la, e-a,
A hiki Pu’u-naná,
Hali’i punána
No huli mai.
10 Huli mai o-e la;
Moe kaua;
Hali’i punana
No huli mai.
Huli mai o-e la;
15 Moe kaua;
Moe aku kaua;
O ka wai welawela,
O ka papa lohi
O Mau-kele;
20 Moe aku kaua;
O ka wai welawela,
O ka papa lohi
O Mau-kele.
A kele, a kele
25 Kou manao la, e-a;
A kele, a kele
Kou manao la, e-a.
[Translation.]
*Song*
Come now, Manono,
Come, Manono, I say;
Take up the burden;
Through groves of pandanus
5 And wild stag-horn fern,
Wearisome fern, lies our way.
Arrived at the hill-top,
We’ll smooth out the nest,
That we may snug close.
10 Turn now to me, dear,
While we rest here.
Make we a little nest,
That we may draw near.
This way your face, dear,
[Page 205] 15 While, we rest here. Rest thou and I here, Near the warm, warm water And the smooth lava-plate Of Mau-kele.
20 Rest thou and I here.
By the water so warm,
And the lava-plate smooth
Of Mau-kele.
Little by little
25 Your thoughts will be mine.
Little by little
Your thoughts I’ll divine.
Manono was the name of the brave woman, wife of
Ke-kua-o-kalani, who fell in the battle of Kuamo’o, in Kona,
Hawaii, in 1819, fighting by the side of her husband. They
died in support of the cause of law and order, of religion
and tabu, the cause of the conservative party in Hawaii, as
opposed to license and the abolition of all restraint.
The *uluhe* (verses 5, 6) is the stag-horn fern, which forms
a matted growth most obstructive to woodland travel.
The burden Manono is asked to bear, what else is it but the
burden of life, in this case lightened by love?
Whether there is any connection between the name of the
hula—breast-beating—and the expression, in the first verse
of the following mele is more than the author can say.
*Mele*
Ka-hipa[383], na waiu olewa,
Lele ana, ku ka mahiki akea;
Keké ka niho o Laui-wahine[384];
Opi ke a lalo, ke a luna.
5 A hoi aku au i Lihue,
Kana aku ia Ewa;
E au ana o Miko-lo-lóu,[385]
[Page 206] A pahú ka naau no Pa-pi’-o[386]. A pa’a ka mano. 10 Hopu i ka lima. Ai pakahi, e, i ka nahele,[387] Alawa a’e na ulu kani o Leiwalo. E noho ana Kolea-kani[388] Ka pii’na i ka Uwa-lua; 15 Oha-ohá, lei i ka makani.
[Footnote 383: *Ka-hipa*. Said to be the name of a mythological
character, now applied to a place in Kahuku where the
mountains present the form of two female breasts.]
[Footnote 384: *Lani-wahine*. A benignant *mo’o*, or
water-nymph, sometimes taking the form of a woman, that is
said to have haunted the lagoon of Uko’a, Waialua, Oahu.
There is a long story about her.]
[Footnote 385: *Miko-lo-lóu*. A famous man-eating shark-god
whose home was in the waters of Hana, Maui. He visited Oahu
and was hospitably received by Ka-ahu-pahau and Ka-hi’u-ká,
sharks of the Ewa lagoons, who had a human ancestry and were
on friendly terms with their kindred. Miko-lo-lóu, when his
hosts denied him human flesh, helped himself. In the conflict
that rose the Ewa sharks joined with their human relatives
and friends on land to put an end to Miko-lo-lóu. After a
fearful contest they took him and reduced his body to ashes.
A dog, however, snatched and ate a portion—some say the
tongue, some the tail—and another part fell into the water.
This was reanimated by the spirit of the dead shark and grew
to be a monster of the same size and power as the one
deceased. Miko-lo-lóu now gathered his friends and allies
from all the waters and made war against the Ewa sharks, but
was routed.]
[Footnote 386: *Pa-pi’-o*. A shark of moderate size, but of
great activity, that fought against Mlko-lo-lóu. It entered
his enormous mouth, passed down into his stomach, and there
played havoc with the monster, eating its way out.]
[Footnote 387: *Ai pakahi, e, i ka nahele*. The company
represented by the poet to be journeying pass through an
uninhabited region barren of food. The poet calls upon them
to satisfy their hunger by eating of the edible wild
herbs—they abound everywhere in Hawaii—at the same time
representing them as casting longing glances on the
breadfruit trees of Leiwalo. This was a grove in the lower
levels of Ewa that still survives.]
[Footnote 388: *Kolea-kani*. A female *kupua*—witch she might
be called now—that had the form of a plover. She looked
after the thirsty ones who passed along the road, and
benevolently showed them where to find water. By her example
the people of the district are said to have been induced to
give refreshment to travelers who went that way.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
’Tis Kahipa, with pendulous breasts;
How they swing to and fro, see-saw!
The teeth of Lani-wahine gape—
A truce to upper and lower jaw!
5 From Lihue we look upon Ewa;
There swam the monster, Miko-lo-lóu,
His bowels torn out by Pa-pi’-o.
The shark was caught in grip of the hand.
Let each one stay himself with wild herbs,
And for comfort turn his hungry eyes
10 To the rustling trees of Lei-walo.
Hark! the whistling-plover—her old-time seat,
As one climbs the hill from Echo-glen,
And cools his brow in the breeze.
The thread of interest that holds together the separate
pictures composing this mele is slight. It will, perhaps,
give to the whole a more definite meaning if we recognize
that it is made up of snapshots at various objects and
localities that presented themselves to one passing along the
old road from Kahúku, on Oahu, to the high land which gave
the tired traveler his first distant view of Honolulu before
he entered the winding canyon of Moana-lua.
[Page 207]
XXVI.—THE HULA KU’I MOLOKAI
The hula *ku’i Molokai* was a variety of the Hawaiian dance
that originated on the island of Molokai, probably at a later
period than what one would call the classic times. Its
performance extended to the other islands. The author has
information of its exhibition on the island of its name as
late as the last quarter of the nineteenth century. The
actors, as they might be called, in this hula were arranged
in pairs who faced each other and went through motions
similar to those of boxing. This action, *ku’i*, to smite,
gave the name to the performance. The limiting word Molokai
was added to distinguish it from another still more modern
form of dance called *ku’i*, which will be described later.
While the performers stood and went through with their
motions, marching and countermarching, as they are said to
have done, they chanted or recited in recitative some song,
of which the following is an example. This they did with no
instrumental accompaniment:
*Mele*
He ala kai olohia,[389]
He hiwahiwa na ka la’i luahine,
He me’ aloha na’u ka makani hauai-loli,[390]
E uwe ana i ke kai pale iliahi.
5 Kauwá ke aloha i na lehua o Kaana.[391]
Pomaikai au i kou aloha e noho nei;
Ka haluku wale no ia a ka waimaka,
Me he makamaka puka a la
Ke aloha i ke kanaka,
10 E ho-iloli nei i ku’u nui kino.
Mahea hoi au, a?
Ma ko oe alo no.
[Footnote 389: *Kai olohia*. A calm and tranquil sea. This
expression has gained a poetic vogue that almost makes it
pass current as a single word, meaning tranquillity, calmness
of mind. As thus explained, it is here translated by the
expression “heart’s-ease.”]
[Footnote 390: *Makani hanai-loli*. A wind so gentle as not to
prevent the bêche de mer *loli* sea-anemones, and other
marine slugs from coming out of their holes to feed. A
similar figure is used in the next line in the expression
*kai pale iliahi*. The thought is that the calmness of the
ocean invites one to strip and plunge in for a bath.]
[Footnote 391: *Kauwá ke aloha i na lehua o Kaana*. Kaana is
said to be a hill on the road from Keaau to Olaa, a spot
where travelers were wont to rest and where they not
infrequently made up wreaths of the scarlet lehua bloom which
there abounded. It took a large number of lehua flowers to
suffice for a wreath, and to bind them securely to the fillet
that made them a garland was a work demanding not only
artistic skill hut time and patience. If a weary traveler,
halting at Kaana, employed his time of rest in plaiting
flowers into a wreath for some loved one, there would be
truth as well as poetry in the saying, “Love slaves for the
lehuas of Kaana.”]
[Page 208] [Translation.]
*Song*
Precious the gift of heart’s-ease,
A wreath for the cheerful dame;
So dear to my heart is the breeze
That murmurs, strip for the ocean.
5 Love slaves for wreaths from Kaana.
I’m blest in your love that reigns here;
It speaks in the fall of a tear—
The choicest thing in one’s life,
This love for a man by his wife—
10 It has power to shake the whole frame.
Ah, where am I now?
Here, face to your face.
The platitudes of mere sentimentalism, when put into cold
print, are not stimulating to the imagination; moods and
states of feeling often approaching the morbid, their oral
expression needs the reenforcement of voice, tone,
countenance, the whole attitude. They are for this reason
most difficult of translation and when rendered literally
into a foreign speech often become meaningless. The figures
employed also, like the watergourds and wine-skins of past
generations and of other peoples, no longer appeal to us as
familiar objects, but require an effort of the imagination to
make them intelligible and vivid to our mental vision. If the
translator carries these figures of speech over into his new
rendering, they will often demand an explanation on their own
account, and will thus fail of their original intent; while
if he clothes the thought in some new figure he takes the
risk of failing to do justice to the intimate meaning of the
original. The force of these remarks will become apparent
from an analysis of the prominent figures of speech that
occur in the mele.
*Mele*
He inoa no ka Lani,
No Náhi-éna-éna;
A ka luna o wahine.
Ho’i ka ena a ka makani;
5 Noho ka la’i i ka malino—
Makani ua ha-aó;
Ko ke au i hala, ea.
Punawai o Maná,[392]
Wai ola na ke kupa
10 A ka ilio naná,
Hae, nanahu i ke kai;
Ehu kai nána ka pua,
Ka pua o ka iliau,
[Page 209] Ka ohai o Mapépe,[393] 15 Ka moena we’u-we’u, I ulana ia e ke A’e, Ka naku loloa. Hea mai o Kawelo-hea,[394] Nawai la, e, ke kapu? 20 No Náhi-éna-éna. Ena na pua i ka wai, Wai au o Holei.
[Footnote 392: *Punawai o Maná*. A spring of water at Honuapo,
Hawaii, which bubbled up at such a level that the ocean
covered it at high tide.]
[Footnote 393: *Ka ohai o Mapépe*. A beautiful flowering
shrub, also spoken of as *ka ohai o Papi’o-huli*, said to
have been brought from Kahiki by Namaka-o-kaha’i.]
[Footnote 394: *Kawelo-hea*. A blowhole or spouting horn, also
at Honuapo, through which the ocean at certain times sent up
a column of spray or of water. After the volcanic disturbance
of 1868 this spouting horn ceased action. The rending force
of the earthquakes must have broken up and choked the
subterranean channel through which the ocean had forced its
way.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
A eulogy for the princess,
For Náhi-éna-éna a name!
Chief among women!
She soothes the cold wind with her flame—
5 A peace that is mirrored in calm,
A wind that sheddeth rain;
A tide that flowed long ago;
The water-spring of Maná,
Life-spring for the people,
10 A fount where the lapping dog
Barks at the incoming wave,
Drifting spray on the bloom
Of the sand-sprawling ili-au
And the scarlet flower of ohai,
15 On the wind-woven mat of wild grass,
Long naku, a springy mattress.
The spout-horn, Kawelo-hea,
Asks, Who of right has the tabu?
The princess Náhi-éna-éna!
20 The flowers glow in the pool,
The bathing pool of Holei!
This mele inoa—name-song or eulogy—was composed in
celebration of the lamented princess, Nahienaena, who, before
she was misled by evil influences, was a most attractive and
promising character. She was the daughter of Keopuolani and
younger sister of Kamehameha III, and came to her untimely
death in 1836. The name was compounded from the words *na*,
the, *áhi*, fires, and *énaéna*, hot, a meaning which
furnishes the motive to the mele.
[Page 210]
XXVII.—THE HULA KIELÉI
The hula *kí-e-léi*, or *kí-le-léi*, was a performance of
Hawaii’s classic times, and finds mention as such in the
professedly imperfect list of hulas given by the historian
David Malo.[395] It was marked by strenuous bodily action,
gestures with feet and hands, and that vigorous exercise of
the pelvis and body termed *ami*, the chief feature of which
was a rotation of the pelvis in circles and ellipses, which
is not to be regarded as an effort to portray sexual
attitudes. It was a performance in which the whole company
stood and chanted the mele without instrumental
accompaniment.
[Footnote 395: Hawaiian Antiquities, by David Malo; translated
by N.B. Emerson, A.M., M.D. Honolulu, the Hawaiian Gazette
Company (Limited), 1903.]
The sacrifice offered at the kuahu in connection with the
production of this hula consisted of a black pig, a cock of
the color termed ula-hiwa—black pointed with red—a white
hen, and awa. According to some authorities the offerings
deemed appropriate for the sacrifice that accompanied each
hula varied with the hula, but was definitely established for
each variety of hula. The author’s studies, however, lead him
to conclude that, whatever may have been the original demands
of the gods, in the long run they were not overparticular and
were not only willing to put up with, but were well pleased
so long as the offering contained, good pork or fish and
strong awa.
*Mele*
Ku piliki’i Hanalei-lehua,[396] la;
Kao’o[397] ’luna o ka naéle,[398] la;
Ka Pili-iki i ka Hua-moa, la;
E ka mauna o ke a’a lewalewa[399] la.
5 A lewa ka hope o ko’u hoa, la,
[Page 211] A ko-ú ka hope o ke koléa, la— Na u’i elua.[400] Ki-ki’i ka ua i ka nana keia, la.[401]
[Footnote 396: *Hanalei-lehua*. A wilderness back of Hanalei
valley, Kauai, in which the lehua tree abounds. The features
of this region are as above described.]
[Footnote 397: *Kaó’o*. To bend down the shrubs and tussocks of
grass to furnish solid footing in crossing swampy ground.]
[Footnote 398: *Naé’le*. Boggy ground; a swamp, such as pitted
the summit of Kauai’s central mountain mass, Waiáleále.]
[Footnote 399: *A’a lewalewa*. Aerial roots such as are put
forth by the lehua trees in high altitudes and in a damp
climate. They often aid the traveler by furnishing him with a
sort of ladder.]
[Footnote 400: *U’i elua*. Literally two beauties. One
interpreter says the reference is to the arms, with which one
pulls himself up; it is here rendered “flanks.”]
[Footnote 401: *Ki-ki’i ka ua i ka nana keia, la*. The meaning
of this passage is obscure. The most plausible view is that
this is an exclamation made by one of the two travelers while
crouching for shelter under an overhanging bank. This one,
finding himself unprotected, exclaims to his companion on the
excellence of the shelter he has found, whereupon the second
man comes over to share his comfort only to find that he has
been hoaxed and that the deceiver has stolen his former
place. The language of the text seems a narrow foundation on
which to base such an incident. A learned Hawaiian friend,
however, finds it all implied in this passage.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Perilous, steep, is the climb to Hanalei woods;
To walk canny footed over its bogs;
To balance oneself on its ledges,
And toil up ladder of hanging roots.
5 The bulk of my guide overhangs me,
His loins are well-nigh exhausted;
Two beautiful shapes!
’Neath this bank I crouch sheltered from rain.
At first blush this mele seems to be the account of a
perilous climb through that wild mountainous region that lies
back of Hanalei, Kauai, a region of tangled woods, oozy
steeps, fathomless bogs, narrow ridges, and overhanging
cliffs that fall away into profound abysses, making such an
excursion a most precarious adventure. This is what appears
on the surface. Hawaiian poets, however, did not indulge in
landscape-painting for its own sake; as a rule, they had some
ulterior end in view, and that end was the portrayal of some
primal human passion, ambition, hate, jealousy, love,
especially love. Guided by this principle, one asks what
uncouth or romantic love adventure this wild mountain climb
symbolizes. All the Hawaiians whom the author has consulted
on this question deny any hidden meaning to this mele.
[Page 212]
XXVIII.—THE HULA MÚ’U-MÚ’U
The conception of this peculiar hula originated from a
pathetic incident narrated in the story of Hiiaka’s journey
to bring Prince Lohiau to the court of Pele. Hiiaka, standing
with her friend Wahine-oma’o on the heights that overlooked
the beach at Kahakuloa, Maui, saw the figure of a woman,
maimed as to hands and feet, dancing in fantastic glee on a
plate of rock by the ocean. She sang as she danced, pouring
out her soul in an ecstasy that ill became her pitiful
condition; and as she danced her shadow-dance, for she was
but a ghost, poor soul! these were the words she repeated:
Auwé, auwé, mo’ ku’u lima!
Auwé, auwé, mo’ ku’u lima!
[Translation.]
Alas, alas, maimed are my hands!
Alas, alas, maimed are my hands!
Wahine-oma’o, lacking spiritual sight, saw nothing of this;
but Hiiaka, in downright pity and goodness of impulse,
plucked a hala fruit from the string about her neck and threw
it so that it fell before the poor creature, who eagerly
seized it and with the stumps of her hands held it up to
enjoy its odor. At the sight of the woman’s pleasure Hiiaka
sang:
Le’a wale hoi ka wahine lima-lima ole, wawae ole,
E ha ana i kana i’a, ku’i-ku’i ana i kana opihi,
Wa’u-wa’u ana i kana limu, Mana-mana-ia-kalu-é-a.
[Translation.]
How pleased is the girl maimed of hand and foot,
Groping for fish, pounding shells of opihi,
Kneading her moss, Mana-mana-ia-kalu-éa!
The answer of the desolate creature, grateful for Hiiaka’s
recognition and kind attention, was that pretty mele
appropriated by hula folk as the wreath-song, already given
(p. 56), which will bear repetition:
Ke lei mai la o Ka-ula i ke kai, e-e!
Ke malamalama o Niihau, ua malie.
A malie, pa ka Inu-wai.
Ke inu mai la na hala o Naue i ke kai.
5 No Naue ka hala, no Puna ka wahine,
No ka lua no i Kilauea.
[Page 213]
[Translation.]
Kaula wreathes her brow with the ocean;
Niihau shines forth in the calm.
After the calm blows the Inu-wai,
And the palms of Naue drink of the salt.
5 From Naue the palm, from Puna the maid,
Aye, from the pit of Kilauea.
The hula *mu’u-mu’u*, literally the dance of the maimed, has
long been out of vogue, so that the author has met with but
one person, and he not a practitioner of the hula, who has
witnessed its performance. This was in Puna, Hawaii; the
performance was by women only and was without instrumental
accompaniment. The actors were seated in a half-reclining
position, or kneeling. Their arms, as if in imitation of a
maimed person, were bent at the elbows and doubled up, so
that their gestures were made with the upper arms. The mele
they cantillated went as follows:
Pii ana a-áma,[402]
A-áma kai nui;
Kai pua-lena;
A-áma, pai-é-a,[403]
5 Naholo i lea laupapa.
Popo’i, popo’i, popo’i!
Pii mai pipipi,[404] alea-lea;
Noho i ka malua kai
O-ú,[405] o-í kela.
10 Ai ka limu akaha-kaha;[406]
Ku e, Kahiki, i ke kai nui!
I ke kai pualena a Kane!
A ke Akua o ka lua,
Ua hiki i kai!
15 Ai humu-humu,
E lau, e lau e,
Ka opihi[407] koele!
Pa i uka, pa i kai,
Kahi a ke Akua i pe’e ai.
20 Pe’e oe a nalo loa;
Ua nalo na Pele.
E hua’i e, hua’i e, hua’i,
O Ku ka mahu nui akea![408]
Iho i kai o ka Milo-holu;[409]
25 Auau meliana i ka wai o ke Akua.
Ke a e, ke a mai la
Ke ahi a ka Wahine.
E hula e, e hula e, e hula e!
E hula mai oukou!
30 Ua noa no Manamana-ia-kalu-é-a,
Puili kua, puili alo;
Holo i kai, holo i uka,
Holo i ka lua o Pele—
He Akua ai pohaku no Puna.
35 O Pi,[410] o Pa,[410] uhini mai ana,
O Pele i ka lua.
A noa!
[Footnote 402: *A-áma*. An edible black crab. When the surf is
high, it climbs up on the rocks.]
[Footnote 403: *Pai-é-a*. An edible gray crab. The favorite
time for taking these crabs is when the high tide or surf
forces them to leave the water for protection.]
[Footnote 404: *Pipípi*. A black seashell (Nerita). With it is
often found the *alea-lea*, a gray shell. These shellfish,
like the crabs above mentioned, crawl up the rocks and cliffs
during stormy weather.]
[Footnote 405: *O-ú*. A variety of eel that lurks in holes; it
is wont to keep its head lifted. The *o-í* (same verse) is
an eel that snakes about in the shallow water or on the sand
at the edge of the water.]
[Footnote 406: *Akahakaha*. A variety of moss. If one ate of
this as he gathered it, the ocean at once became
tempestuous.]
[Footnote 407: *Opihi*. An edible bivalve found in the salt
waters of Hawaii. Pele is said to have been very fond of it.
There is an old saying, *He akua ai opihi o Pele*—“Pele is a
goddess who eats the opihi.” In proof of this statement they
point to the huge piles of opihi shells that may be found
along the coast of Puna, the middens, no doubt, of the
old-time people. *Koéle* was a term applied to the opihi that
lives well under water, and therefore are delicate eating.
Another meaning given to the word *koele—opihi koele*,—line
17—is “heaped up.”]
[Footnote 408: *O Ku ka mahu nui akea*. The Hawaiians have come
to treat this phrase as one word, an epithet applied to the
god Ku. In the author’s translation it is treated as an
ordinary phrase.]
[Footnote 409: *Milo-hólu*. A grove of milo trees that stood,
as some affirm, about that natural basin of warm water in
Puna, which the Hawaiians called *Wai-wela-wela*.]
[Footnote 410: *Pi, Pa*. These were two imaginary little beings
who lived in the crater of Kilauea, and who declared their
presence by a tiny shrill piping sound, such, perhaps, as a
stick of green wood will make when burning. Pi was active at
such times as the fires were retreating, Pa when the fires
were rising to a full head.]
[Page 214]
[Translation.]
Black crabs are climbing,
Crabs from the great sea,
Sea that is darkling.
Black crabs and gray crabs
5 Scuttle o’er the reef-plate.
Billows are tumbling and lashing,
Beating and surging nigh.
Seashells are crawling up;
And lurking in holes
10 Are the eels o-ú and o-í.
But taste the moss akáhakáha,
Kahiki! how the sea rages!
The wild sea of Kane!
The pit-god has come to the ocean,
15 All consuming, devouring
By heaps the delicate shellfish!
Lashing the mount, lashing the sea,
Lurking place of the goddess.
Pray hide yourself wholly;
20 The Pele women are hidden.
Burst forth now! burst forth!
Ku with spreading column of smoke!
Now down to the grove Milo-holu;
Bathe in waters warmed by the goddess.
25 Behold, they burn, behold, they burn!
[Page 215] The fires of the goddess burn! Now for the dance, the dance! Bring out the dance made public By Mána-mána-ia-kálu-é-a. 30 Turn about back, turn about face; Advance toward the sea; Advance toward the land, Toward the pit that is Pele’s, Portentous consumer of rocks in Puna. 35 Pi and Pa chirp the cricket notes Of Pele at home in her pit. Have done with restraint!
The imagery and language of this mele mark the hula to which
it belonged as a performance of strength.
[Page 216]
XXIX.—THE HULA KOLANI
For the purpose of this book the rating of any variety of
hula must depend not so much on the grace and rhythm of its
action on the stage as on the imaginative power and dignity
of its poetry. Judged in this way, the *kolani* is one of the
most interesting and important of the hulas. Its performance
seems to have made no attempt at sensationalism, yet it was
marked by a peculiar elegance. This must have been due in a
measure to the fact that only adepts—*olóhe*—those of the
most finished skill in the art of hula, took part in its
presentation. It was a hula of gentle, gracious action, acted
and sung while the performers kept a sitting position, and
was without instrumental accompaniment. The fact that this
hula was among the number chosen for presentation before the
king (Kamehameha III) while on a tour of Oahu in the year
1846 or 1847 is emphatic testimony as to the esteem in which
it was held by the Hawaiians themselves.
The mele that accompanied this hula when performed for the
king’s entertainment at Waimanalo was the following:
He ua la, he ua,
He ua pi’i mai;
Noe-noe halau,
Halau loa o Lono.
5 O lono oe;
Pa-á-a na pali
I ka hana a Ikuwá—
Pohá ko-ele-ele.
A Welehu ka maláma,
10 Noho i Makali’i;
Li’i-li’i ka hana.
Aia a e’é-u,
He eu ia no ka la hiki.
Hiki mai ka Lani,
15 Nauweuwe ka honua,
Ka hana a ke ola’i nui:
Moe pono ole ko’u po—
Na niho ai kalakala,
Ka hana a ka Niuhi
20 A mau i ke kai loa.
He loa o ka hiki’na.
A ua noa, a ua noa.
[Page 217]
[Translation.]
Lo, the rain, the rain!
The rain is approaching;
The dance-hall is murky,
The great hall of Lono.
5 Listen! its mountain walls
Are stunned with the clatter,
As when in October,
Heaven’s thunderbolts shatter.
Then follows Welehu,
10 The month of the Pleiads.
Scanty the work then done,
Save as one’s driven.
Spur comes with the sun,
When day has arisen.
15 Now comes the Heaven-born;
The whole land doth shake,
As with an earthquake;
Sleep quits then my bed:
How shall this maw be fed!
20 Great maw of the shark—
Eyes that gleam in the dark
Of the boundless sea!
Rare the king’s visits to me.
All is free, all is free!
If the author of this Hawaiian idyl sought to adapt its
descriptive imagery to the features of any particular
landscape, it would almost seem as if he had in view the very
region in which Kauikeaouli found himself in the year 1847 as
he listened to the mele of this unknown Hawaiian Theocritus.
Under the spell of this poem, one is transported to the
amphitheater of Mauna-wili, a valley separated from Waimanalo
only by a rampart of hills. At one’s back are the abrupt
walls of Konahuanui; at the right, and encroaching so as
almost to shut in the front, stands the knife-edge of
Olomana; to the left range the furzy hills of Ulamawao;
while directly to the front, looking north, winds the green
valley, whose waters, before reaching the ocean, spread out
into the fish-ponds and duck swamps of Kailua. It would seem
as if this must have been the very picture the idyllic poet
had in mind. This smiling, yet rock-walled, amphitheater was
the vast dance-hall of Lono—*Halau loa o Lono* (verse
4)—whose walls were deafened, stunned (*pa-á-a*, verse 6),
by the tumult and uproar of the multitude that always
followed in the wake of a king, a multitude whose night-long
revels banished sleep: *Moe pono ole ko’u po* (verse 17). The
poet seems to be thinking of this same hungry multitude in
verse 18, *Na niho ai kalakala*, literally the teeth that
tear the food; also when he speaks of the Niuhi (verse 19), a
mythical shark, the glow of whose eyes was said to be visible
[Page 218 for a great distance in the ocean, A mau i ke kai loa* (verse 20). *Ikuwá, Welehu, Makali’i (verses 7, 9, and 10). These were months in the Hawaiian year corresponding to a part of September, October and November, and a part of December. The Hawaiian year began when the Pleiades (Makali’i) rose at sunset (about November 20), and was divided into twelve lunar months of twenty-nine or thirty days each. The names of the months differed somewhat in the different parts of the group. The month Ikuwá is said to have been named from its being the season of thunderstorms. This does not of itself settle the time of its occurrence, for the reason that in Hawaii the procession of the seasons and the phenomena of weather follow no definite order; that is, though electrical storms occur, there is no definite season of thunderstorms.
*Maka-li’i* (verse 10) was not only the name of a month and
the name applied to the Pleiades, but was also a name given
the cool, the rainy, season. The name more commonly given
this season was *Hooilo*. The Makahiki period, continuing
four months, occurred at this time of the year. This was a
season when the people rested from unnecessary labor and
devoted themselves to festivals, games, and special religious
observances. Allusion is made to this avoidance of toil in
the words *Li’ili’i ka hana* (verse 11).
One can not fail to perceive a vein of gentle sarcasm
cropping up in this idyl, softened, however, by a spirit of
honest good feeling. Witness the following: *Noe-noe* (verse
3), primarily meaning cloudy, conveys also the idea of
agreeable coolness and refreshment. Again, while the
multitude that follows the king is compared to the ravenous
man-eating *Niuhi* (verse 19), the final remark as to the
rarity of the king’s visits, *He loa o ka hiki’na* (verse
21), may be taken not only as a salve to atone for the
satire, but as a sly self-gratulation that the affliction is
not to be soon repeated.
[Page 219]
XXX.—THE HULA KOLEA
There was a peculiar class of hulas named after animals, in
each one of which the song-maker developed some
characteristic of the animal in a fanciful way, while the
actors themselves aimed to portray the animal’s movements in
a mimetic fashion. To this class belongs the hula *kolea*.[411]
It was a peculiar dance, performed, as an informant asserts,
by actors who took the kneeling posture, all being placed in
one row and facing in the same direction. There were gestures
without stint, arms, heads, and bodies moving in a fashion
that seemed to imitate in a far-off way the movements of the
bird itself. There was no instrumental accompaniment to the
music. The following mele is one that was given with this
hula:
Kolea kai piha![412]
I aha mai nei?
Ku-nou[413] mai nei.
E aha kakou?
5 E ai kakou.[414]
Nohea ka ai?[415]
No Kahiki mai.[415]
Hiki mai ka Lani,[415]
Olina Hawaii,
10 Mala’ela’e ke ala,
Nou, e ka Lani.
Puili pu ke aloha,
Pili me ka’u manu.[416]
Ka puana a ka moe?
15 Moe oe a hoolana
[Page 220] Ka hali’a i hiki mai; Ooe pu me a’u Noho pu i ka wai aliali. Hai’na ia ka pauna. 20 O ka hua o ke kolea, aia i Kahiki.[417] Hiki mai kou aloha, mae’ele au.
[Footnote 411: The plover.]
[Footnote 412: *Kolea kai piha*. The kolea is a feeder along
the shore, his range limited to a narrower strip as the tide
rises. The snare was one of the methods used by the Hawaiians
for the capture of this bird. In his efforts to escape when
snared he made that futile bobbing motion with his head that
must be familiar to every hunter.]
[Footnote 413: Usually the bobbing motion, *ku-nou*, is the
prelude to flight; but the snared bird can do nothing more, a
fact which suggests to the poet the nodding and bowing of two
lovers when they meet.]
[Footnote 414: *E ai kakou*. Literally, let us eat. While this
figure of speech often has a sensual meaning, it does not
necessarily imply grossness. Hawaiian literalness and
narrowness of vocabulary is not to be strained to the
overthrow of poetical sentiment.]
[Footnote 415: To the question *Nohea ka ai?*, whence the food?
that is, the bird, the poet answers, *No Kahiki mai*, from
Kahiki, from some distant region, the gift of heaven, it may
be, as implied in the next line, *Hiki mai ka Lani*. The
coming of the king, or chief, *Lani*, literally, the
heaven-born, with the consummation of the love. Exactly what
this connection is no one can say.]
[Footnote 416: In the expression *Pili me ka’u manu* the poet
returns to his figure of a bird as representing a loved one.]
[Footnote 417: *O ka hua o ke kolea, aia i Kahiki*. In
declaring that the egg of the kolea is laid in a foreign
land, Kahiki, the poet enigmatizes, basing his thought on
some fancied resemblance between the mystery of love and the
mystery of the kolea’s birth.]
[Translation.]
A plover at the full of the sea—
What, pray, is it saying to me?
It keeps bobbing its noddy.
To do what would you counsel?
5 Why, eat its plump body!
Whence comes the sweet morsel?
From the land of Kahiki.
When our sovereign appears,
Hawaii gathers for play,
10 Stumble-blocks cleared from the way—
Fit rule of the king’s highway.
Let each one embrace then his love;
For me, I’ll keep to my dove.
Hark now, the signal for bed!
15 Attentive then to love’s tread,
While a wee bird sings in the soul,
My love comes to me heart-whole—
Then quaff the waters of bliss.
Say what is the key to all this?
20 The plover egg’s laid in Kahiki.
Your love, when it comes, finds me dumb.
The plover—kolea—is a wayfarer in Hawaii; its nest-home is
in distant lands, Kahiki. The Hawaiian poet finds in all this
something that reminds him of the spirit of love.
[Page 221]
XXXI.—THE HULA MANÓ
The hula *manó*, shark-dance, as its name signifies, was a
performance that takes class with the hula kolea, already
mentioned, as one of the animal dances. But little can be
said about the physical features of this hula as a dance,
save that the performers took a sitting position, that the
action was without sensationalism, and that there was no
instrumental accompaniment. The cantillation of the mele was
in the distinct and quiet tone and manner which the Hawaiians
termed ko’i-honua.
The last and only mention found of its performance in modern
times was in the year 1847, during the tour, previously
mentioned, which Kamehameha III made about Oahu. The place
was the lonely and romantic valley of Waimea, a name already
historic from having been the scene of the tragic death of
Lieutenant Hergest (of the ship *Dædalus*) in 1792.
*Mele*
Auwe! pau au i ka manó nui, e!
Lala-kea[418] niho pa-kolu.
Pau ka papa-ku o Lono[419]
I ka ai ia e ka manó nui,
5 O Niuhi maka ahi,
Olapa i ke kai lipo.
Ahu e! au-we!
A pua ka wili-wili,
A nanahu ka manó,[420]
[Page 222] 10 Auwe! pau au i ka manó nui! Kai uli, kai ele, Kai popolohua o Kane. A lealea au i ka’u hula, Pau au i ka manó nui!
[Footnote 418: *Lala-kea*. This proper name, as it seems once
to have been, has now become rather the designation of a
whole class of man-eating sea-monsters. The Hawaiians
worshiped individual sharks as demigods, in the belief that
the souls of the departed at death, or even before death,
sometimes entered and took possession of them, and that they
at times resumed human form. To this class belonged the
famous shark Niuhi (verse 5).]
[Footnote 419: *Papa-ku o Lono*. This was one of the underlying
strata of the earth that must be passed before reaching
*Mílu*, the hades of the Hawaiians. The cosmogony of the
southern Polynesians, according to Mr. Tregear, recognized
ten *papa*, or divisions. “The first division was the earth’s
surface; the second was the abode of Rongo-ma-tane and
Haumia-tiketike; ... the tenth was Meto, or Ameto, or
Aweto, wherein the soul of man found utter extinction.” (The
Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary, by Edward Tregear,
F.R.G.S., etc., Wellington, New Zealand, 1891.)]
[Footnote 420: Verses 8 and 9 are from an old proverb which the
Hawaiians put into the following quatrain:
A pua ka wiliwili,
A nanahu ka manó;
A pua ka wahine u’i,
A nanahu ke kanawai.
[Translation.]
When flowers the wiliwili,
Then bites the shark;
When flowers a young woman.
Then bites the law.
The people came to take this old saw seriously and literally,
and during the season when the wiliwili (Erythrina
monosperma) was clothed in its splendid tufts of brick-red,
mothers kept their children from swimming into the deep sea
by setting before them the terrors of the shark.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Alas! I am seized by the shark, great shark!
Lala-kea with triple-banked teeth.
The stratum of Lono is gone,
Torn up by the monster shark,
5 Niuhi with fiery eyes,
That flamed in the deep blue sea.
Alas! and alas!
When flowers the wili-wili tree,
That is the time when the shark-god bites.
10 Alas! I am seized by the huge shark!
O blue sea, O dark sea,
Foam-mottled sea of Kane!
What pleasure I took in my dancing!
Alas! now consumed by the monster shark!
Who would imagine that a Hawaiian would ever picture the god
of love as a shark? As a bird, yes; but as a shark! What a
light this fierce idyl casts on the imagination of the people
of ancient Hawaii!
[Page 223]
XXXII.—THE HULA ILÍO
The dog took his part and played his enthusiastic rôle in the
domestic life of every Hawaiian. He did not starve in a
fool’s paradise, a neglected object of man’s superstitious
regard, as in Constantinople; nor did he vie with kings and
queens in the length and purity of his pedigree, as in
England; but in Hawaii he entered with full heart of sympathy
into all of man’s enterprises, and at his death bequeathed
his body a sacrifice to men and gods. It was fitting that the
Hawaiian poet should celebrate the dog and his altogether
virtuous and altruistic services to mankind. The hula *ilío*
may be considered as part of Hawaii’s tribute to man’s most
faithful friend, the dog.
The hula ilío was a classic performance that demanded of the
actors much physical stir; they shifted their position, now
sitting, now standing; they moved from place to place;
indulged in many gestures, sometimes as if imitating the
motions of the dog. This hula has long been out of
commission. Like the two animal-hulas previously mentioned,
it was performed without the aid of instrumental
accompaniment.
The allusions in this mele are to the mythical story that
tells of Kane’s drinking, revels on the heights about Waipi’o
valley; how he and his fellows by the noise of their furious
conching disturbed the prayers and rituals of King Liloa and
his priests, Kane himself being the chief offender by his
blowing on the conch-shell Kihapú, stolen from Liloa’s temple
of Paka’alana: its recovery by the wit and dramatic action of
the gifted dog Puapua-lenalena. (See p. 131.)
*Mele*
Ku e, naná e!
Makole[421] o Ku!
Hoolei ia ka lei,[422]
I lei no Puapua-lenalena,
5 He lei hinano no Kahili,[423]
He wehiwehi no Niho-kú[424]
[Page 224] Kaanini ka lani,[425] uwé ka honua: A aoa aku oe; Lohe o Hiwa-uli,[426] 10 Ka milimili a ka lani. Noho opua i ka malámaláma Málama ia ka ipu.[427] He hano-wai no Kilioe,[428] Wahine noho pali o Haena. 15 Enaena na ahi o Kilauea,[429] Ka haku pali o Kamohoalii.[430] A noho i Waipi’o, Ka pali kapu a Kane. Moe ole ka po o ke alii, 20 Ke kani mau o Kiha-pú. Ukiuki, uluhua ke alii: Hoouna ka elele;[431] Loaa i Kauai o Máno, Kupueu a Wai-uli me Kahili; 25 A ao aku oe, aoa,[432] aoa a aoa. Hana e o Kaua-hoa,[433] Ka mea ū i o Hanalei, Hu’e’a kaua, moe i ke awakea, [Page 225] Kapae ke kaua o ka hoahanau![434] 30 Hookahi no pua o ka oi; Awili pu me ke kaio’e.[435] I lei no Puapua-lenalena. O ku’u luhi ua hiki iho la, Ka nioi o Paka’a-lana.[436] 35 A lana ka manao, hakuko’i ’loko, Ka hae mau ana a Puapua-lenalena, A hiki i Kuma-kahi,[437] Kahi au i noho ai, A hiki iho la ka elele, 40 Inu i ka awa kau-laau o Puna.[438] Aoa, he, he, hene!
[Footnote 421: *Makole*. Red-eyed; ophthalmic.]
[Footnote 422: The wreath, *lei*, is not for the god, but for
the dog Puapua-lenalena, the one who in the story recovered
the stolen conch, *Kiha-pú* (verse 20), with which god Kane
made night hideous and disturbed the repose of pious King
Liloa (*Moe ole ka po o ke alii*, verse 19).]
[Footnote 423: *Kahili*. Said to be the foster mother of
Puapua-lenalena.]
[Footnote 424: *Niho-kú*. Literally an upright tooth, was the
name of the hill on which lived the old couple who were the
foster parents of the dog.]
[Footnote 425: *Kaanini ka lani*, etc. Portents by which heaven
and earth expressed their appreciation of the birth of a new
prodigy, the dog Puapua-lenalena.]
[Footnote 426: *Hiwa-uli*. An epithet applied to the island of
Hawaii, perhaps on account of the immense extent of territory
on that island that was simply black lava; *hiwa*, black, was
a sacred color. The term *uli* has reference to its
verdancy.]
[Footnote 427: *Ipu*. Wai-uli, the foster father of the dog,
while fishing in a mountain brook, brought up a pebble on his
hook; his wife, who was childless and yearned for offspring,
kept it in a calabash wrapped in choice tapa. In a year or
two it had developed into the wonderful dog, Puapua-lenalena.
The calabash was the *ipu* here mentioned, the same as the
*hano wai* (verse 13), a water-container.]
[Footnote 428: *Kilióe*. A sorceress who lived at Haena, Kauai,
on the steep cliffs that were inaccessible to human foot.]
[Footnote 429: *Ena-ena, na ahi o Kilauea*. “Hot are the fires
of Kilauea.” The duplicated word *ena-ena*, taken in
connection with *Ha-ena* in the previous verse, is a capital
instance of a form of assonance, or nonterminal rhyme, much
favored and occasionally used by Hawaiian poets of the middle
period. From the fact that its use here introduces a break in
the logical relation which it is hard to reconcile with unity
one may think that the poet was seduced from the straight and
narrow way by this opportunity for an indulgence that
sacrifices reason to rhyme.]
[Footnote 430: *Kamoho-alii*. The brother of Pele; his person
was so sacred that the flames and smoke of Kilauea dared not
invade the bank on which he reposed. The connection of
thought between this and the main line of argument is not
clear.]
[Footnote 431: *Hoouna ka elele*. According to one story Liloa
dispatched a messenger to bring Puapua-lenalena and his
master to Waipi’o to aid him in regaining possession of
Kiha-pú.]
[Footnote 432: *A ao aku oe, aoa* ... This indicated the
dog’s assent. Puapua-lenalena understood what was said to
him, but could make no reply in human speech. When a question
was put to him, if he wished to make a negative answer, he
would keep silent; but if he wished to express assent to a
proposition, he barked and frisked about.]
[Footnote 433: *Hana e o Kaua-hoa* ... No one has been found
who can give a satisfactory explanation of the logical
connection existing between the passage here cited and the
rest of the poem. It treats of an armed conflict between
Kauahoa and his cousin Kawelo, a hero from Oahu, which took
place on Kauai. Kauahoa was a retainer and soldier of
Ai-kanaka, a king of Kauai. The period was in the reign of
King Kakuhihewa, of Oahu. Kawelo invaded Kauai with an armed
force and made a proposition to Kauahoa which involved
treachery to Kauahoa’s liege-lord Ai-kanaka. Kauahoa’s answer
to this proposition is given in verse 28; _Hu’e a kaua, moe i
ke awakea!_—“Strike home, then sleep at midday!” The sleep
at midday was the sleep of death.]
[Footnote 434: *Kapae ke kaua o ka hoahanau!* This was the
reply of Kawelo, urging Kauahoa to set the demands of kinship
above those of honor and loyalty to his liege-lord. In the
battle that ensued Kauahoa came to his death. The story of
Kawelo is full of romance.]
[Footnote 435: *Kaio’e*. Said to be a choice and beautiful
flower found on Kauai. It is not described by Hillebrand.]
[Footnote 436: *Ka nioi o Paka’a-lana*. The doorsill of the
temple, *heiau*, of Paka’a-lana was made of the exceedingly
hard wood *nioi*. It was to this temple that Puapua-lenalena
brought the conch Kiha-pú when he had stolen (recovered) it
from god Kane.]
[Footnote 437: *Qumukahi*. See note *c* on p. 197.]
[Footnote 438: *Awa kau-laau o Puna*. It is said that in Puna
the birds sometimes planted the awa in the stumps or in the
crotches of the trees, and this awa was of the finest
quality.]
The author of this mele, apparently under the sanction of his
poetic license, uses toward the great god Ku a plainness of
speech which to us seems satirical; he speaks of him as
*makole*, red-eyed, the result, no doubt, of his notorious
addiction to awa, in which he was not alone among the gods.
But it is not at all certain that the Hawaiians looked upon
this ophthalmic redness as repulsive or disgraceful.
Everything connected with awa had for them a cherished value.
In the mele given on p. 130 the cry was, “Kane is drunken
with awa!” The two gods Kane and Ku were companions in their
revels as well as in nobler adventures. Such a poem as this
flashes a strong light into the workings of the Hawaiian mind
on the creations of their own imagination, the beings who
stood to them as gods; not robbing them of their power, not
deposing them from the throne of the universe, perhaps not
even penetrating the veil of enchantment and mystery with
which the popular regard covered them, at the most perhaps
giving them a hold on the affections of the people.
[Translation.]
*Song*
Look forth, god Ku, look forth!
Huh! Ku is blear-eyed!
Aye, weave now the wreath—
A wreath for the dog Pua-lena;
5 A hala plume for Kahili,
Choice garlands from Niho-kú.
[Page 226] There was a scurry of clouds, earth groaned; The sound of your baying reached Hawaii the verdant, the pet of the gods; 10 A portent was seen in the heavens. You were kept in a cradle of gourd, Water-gourd of the witch Kilioe, Who haunted the cliffs of Haena— The fiery blasts of the crater 15 Touch not Kamoho-alii’s cliff. Your travel reaches Waipi’o, The sacred cliff of god Kane. Sleep fled the bed of the king At the din of the conch Kiha-pú. 20 The king was tormented, depressed; His messenger sped on his way; Found help from Kauai of Máno— The marvelous foster child, By Waiuli, Kahuli, upreared; 25 Your answer, a-o-a, a-o-a!— ’Twas thus Kauahoa made ready betimes, That hero of old Hanalei— “Strike home! then sleep at midday!” “God fend a war between kindred!” 30 One flower all other surpasses; Twine with it a wreath of kai-o’e, A chaplet to crown Pua-lena. My labor now has its reward, The doorsill of Pa-ka’a-lana. 35 My heart leaps up in great cheer; The bay of the dog greets my ear, It reaches East Cape by the sea, Where Puna gave refuge to thee, Till came the king’s herald, hot-foot, 40 And quaffed the awa’s tree-grown root. A-o-a, a-o-a, he, he, hene!
The problem to be solved by the translator of this peculiar
mele is a difficult one. It involves a constant readjustment
of the mental standpoint to meet the poet’s vagrant fancy,
which to us seems to occupy no consistent point of view. If
this difficulty arises from the author’s own lack of insight,
he can at least absolve himself from the charge of negligence
and lack of effort to discover the standpoint that shall give
unity to the whole composition; and can console himself with
the reflection that no native Hawaiian scholar with whom he
has conferred has been able to give a key to the solution of
this problem. In truth, the native Hawaiian scholars of
to-day do not appreciate as we do the necessity of holding
fast to one viewpoint. They seem to be willing to accept with
gusto any production of their old-time singers, though they
may not be able to explain them, and though to us, in whose
hearts the songs of the masters ever make music, they may
seem empty riddles.
[Page 227] The solution of this problem here furnished is based on careful study of the text and of the allusions to tradition and myth that therein abound. Its expression in the translation has rendered necessary occasional slight departures from absolute literalness, and has involved the supplying of certain conjunctive and explanatory words and phrases of which the original, it is true, gives no hint, but without which the text would be meaningless.
One learned Hawaiian with whom the author has enjoyed much
conference persists in taking a most discouraging and
pessimistic view of this mele. It is gratifying to be able to
differ from him in this matter and to be able to sustain
one’s position by the consenting opinion of other Hawaiians
equally accomplished as the learned friend just referred to.
The incidents in the story of Puapua-lenalena alluded to in
the mele do not exactly chime with any version of the legend
met with. That is not strange. Hawaiian legends of necessity
had many variants, especially where, as in this case, the
adventures of the hero occurred in part on one and in part on
another island. The author’s knowledge of this story is
derived from various independent sources, mainly from a
version given to his brother, Joseph S. Emerson, who took it
down from the words of an intelligent Hawaiian youth of
Kohala.
English literature, so far as known to the author, does not
furnish any example that is exactly comparable to or that
will serve as an illustration of this nonterminal rhyme,
which abounds in Hawaiian poetry. Perhaps the following will
serve the purpose of illustration:
’Twas the swine of Gadara, fattened on *mast*.
The *mast*-head watch of a ship was the last
To see the wild herd careering past,
Or such a combination as this:
He was a mere *flat*,
Yet *flat*tered the girls.
Such artificial productions as these give us but a momentary
intellectual entertainment. While the intellectual element in
them was not lacking with the Hawaiians, the predominant
feeling, no doubt, was a sensuous delight coming from the
repetition of a full-throated vowel-combination.
[Page 228]
XXXIII.—THE HULA PUA’A
The hula *pua’a* rounds out the number of animal-dances that
have survived the wreck of time, or the memory of which has
come down to us. It was a dance in which only the olapa took
well as men were eligible as actors in its performance. The
actors put much spirit into the action, beating the chest,
flinging their arms in a strenuous fashion, throwing the body
into strained attitudes, at times bending so far back as
almost to touch the floor. This energy seems to have invaded
the song, and the cantillation of the mele is said to have
been done in that energetic manner called *ai-ha’a*.
The hula pua’a seems to have been native to Kauai. The author
has not been able to learn of its performance within historic
times on any other island.
The student of Hawaiian mythology naturally asks whether the
hula pua’a concerned itself with the doings of the
mythological hog-deity Kama-pua’a whose amour with Pele was
the scandal of Hawaiian mythology. It takes but a superficial
reading of the mele to answer this question in the
affirmative.
The following mele, or oli more properly, which was used in
connection with the hula pua’a, is said to have been the
joint production of two women, the daughters of a famous bard
named Kana, who was the reputed brother of Limaloa
(long-armed), a wonder-working hero who piled up the clouds
in imitation of houses and mountains and who produced the
mirage:
*Oli*
Ko’i maka nui,[439]
Ike ia na pae moku,
Na moku o Mala-la-walu,[440]
Ka noho a Ka-maulu-a-niho,
5 Kupuna o Kama-pua’a.
[Page 229] Ike ia ka hono a Pii-lani;[441] Ku ka paóa i na mokupuni. Ua puni au ia Pele, Ka u’i noho mau i Kilauea, 10 Anau hewa i ke a o Puna. Keiki kolohe a Ku ame Hina—[442] Hina ka opua, kau i ke olewa, Ke ao pua’a[443] maalo i Haupu. Haku’i ku’u manao e hoi[444] i Kahiki; 15 Pau ole ka’u hoohihi ia Hale-ma’u-ma’u,[445] I ka pali kapu a Ka-moho-alii.[446] Kela kuahiwi a mau a ke ahi. He manao no ko’u e noho pu; Pale ’a mai e ka hilahila, 20 I ka hakukole ia mai e ke Akua wahine Pale oe, pale au, iloko o ka hilahila; A hilahila wale ia iho no e oe; Nau no ia hale i noho.[447] Ka hana ia a ke Ko’i maka nui, 25 Ike ia na pae moku. He hiapo[448] au na Olopana, He hi’i-alo na Ku-ula, Ka mea nana na haka moa; [Page 230] Noho i ka uka o Ka-liu-wa’a;[449] 30 Ku’u wa’a ia ho’i i Kahiki. Pau ia ike ana ia Hawaii, Ka aina a ke Akua i hiki mai ai, I noho malihini ai i na moku o Hawaii. Malihini oe, malihini au, 35 Ko’i maka nui, ike ia na-pae opuaa. A pepelu, a pepelu, a pepelu Ko ia la huelo! pili i ka lemu! Hu! hu! hu! hu! Ka-haku-ma’a-lani[450] kou inoa! 40 A e o mai oe, e Kane-hoa-lani. Ua noa.
[Footnote 439: *Ko’i maka nui* The word *maka*, which from the
connection here must mean the edge of an ax, is the word
generally used to mean an eye. Insistence on their
peculiarity leads one to think that there must have been
something remarkable about the eyes of Kama-pua’a. One
account describes Kama-pua’a as having eight eyes and as many
feet. It is said that on one occasion as Kama-pua’a was lying
in wait for Pele in a volcanic bubble in the plains of Puna
Pele’s sisters recognized his presence by the gleam of his
eyes. They immediately walled up the only door of exit.]
[Footnote 440: *Mala-la-walu*. A celebrated king of Maui, said
to have been a just ruler, who was slain in battle on Hawaii
while making war against Lono-i-ka-makahiki, the rightful
ruler of the island. It may be asked if the name is not
introduced here because of the word *walu* (eight) as a
reference to Kama-pua’a’s eight eyes.]
[Footnote 441: *Pi’i-lani*. A king of Maui, father-in-law to
Umi, the son of Liloa.]
[Footnote 442: *Hina*. There were several Hinas in Hawaiian
mythology and tradition. Olopana, the son of Kamaulu-a-niho
(Fornander gives this name as Ka-maunu-a-niho), on his
arrival from Kahiki, settled in Koolau and married a woman
named Hina. Kama-pua’a is said to be the natural son of Hina
by Kahiki-ula, the brother of Olopana. To this Olopana was
attributed the heiau of Kawaewae at Kaneohe.]
[Footnote 443: *Ao pu-a’a*. The cloud-cap that often rested on
the summit of Haupu, a mountain on Kauai, near Koloa, is said
to have resembled the shape of a pig. It was a common saying,
“The pig is resting on Haupu.”]
[Footnote 444: *Ho’i*. To return. This argues that, if
Kama-pua’a was not originally from Kahiki, he had at least
visited there.]
[Footnote 445: *Hale-ma’u-ma’u*. This was an ancient lava-cone
which until within a few years continued to be the most
famous fire-lake in the caldera of Kilauea. It was so called,
probably, because the roughness of its walls gave it a
resemblance to one of those little shelters made from rough
*ama’u* fern such as visitors put up for temporary
convenience. The word has not the same pronunciation and is
not to be confounded with that other word *mau*, meaning
everlasting.]
[Footnote 446: *Kamoho-ali’i*. The brother of Pele; in one
metamorphosis he took the form of a shark. A high point in
the northwest quarter of the wall of Kilauea was considered
his special residence and regarded as so sacred that no smoke
or flame from the volcano ever touched it. He made his abode
chiefly in the earth’s underground caverns, through which the
sun made its nightly transit from West back to the East. He
often retained the orb of the day to warm and illumine his
abode. On one such occasion the hero Mawi descended into this
region and stole away the sun that his mother Hina might have
the benefit of its heat in drying her tapas.]
[Footnote 447: *Hale i noho*. The word *hale*, meaning house,
is frequently used metaphorically for the human body,
especially that of a woman. Pele thus acknowledges her amour
with Kama-pua’a.]
[Footnote 448: *Hiapo*. A firstborn child. Legends are at
variance with one another as to the parentage of Kama-pua’a.
According to the legend referred to previously, Kama-pua’a
was the son of Olopana’s wife Hina, his true father being
Kahiki-ula, the brother of Olopana. Olopana seems to have
treated him as his own son. After Kama-pua’a’s robbery of his
mother’s henroosts, Olopana chased the thief into the
mountains and captured him. Kama eventually turned the tables
against his benefactor and caused the death of Olopana
through the treachery of a priest in a heiau; he was offered
up on the altar as a sacrifice.]
[Footnote 449: *Ka-liu-wa’a*. The bilge of the canoe. This is
the name of a deep and narrow valley at Hauula, Koolau, Oahu,
and is well worth a visit. Kama-pua’a, hard pressed by the
host of his enemies, broke through the multitude that
encompassed him on the land side and with his followers
escaped up this narrow gorge. When the valley came to an
abrupt end before him, and he could retreat no farther, he
reared up on his hind legs and scaled the mountain wall; his
feet, as he sprang up, scored the precipice with immense
hollowed-out grooves or flutings. The Hawaiians call these
*wa’a* from their resemblance to the hollow of a Hawaiian
canoe. This feat of the hog-god compelled recognition of
Kama-pua’a as a deity; and from that time no one entered
Ka-liu-wa’a valley without making an offering to Kama-pua’a.]
[Footnote 450: *Ka-haku-ma’a-lani.* A name evidently applied to
Kama-pua’a.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Ax of broadest edge I’m hight;
The island groups I’ve visited,
Islands of Mala-la-walu,
Seat of Ka-maulu-a-niho,
5 Grandam of Kama, the swine-god.
I have seen Pi’i-lani’s glory,
Whose fame spreads over the islands.
Enamored was I of Pele;
Her beauty holds court at the fire-pit,
10 Given to ravage the plains of Puna.
Mischievous son of Ku, and of Hina,
Whose cloud-bloom hangs in ether,
The pig-shaped cloud that shadows Haupu.
An impulse comes to return to Kahiki—
15 The chains of the pit still gall me,
The tabu cliff of Ka-moho-alii,
The mount that is ever ablaze.
I thought to have domiciled with her;
Was driven away by mere shame—
20 The shameful abuse of the goddess!
Go thou, go I—a truce to the shame.
It was your manners that shamed me.
Free to you was the house we lived in.
These were the deeds of Broad-edged-Ax,
25 Who has seen the whole group of islands.
Olopana’s firstborn am I,
Nursed in the arms of Ku-ula;
[Page 231] Hers were the roosts for the gamecocks. The wilds of Ka-liu-wa’a my home, 30 That too my craft back to Kahiki; This my farewell to Hawaii, Land of the God’s immigration. Strangers we came to Hawaii; A stranger thou, a stranger I, 35 Called Broad-edged-Ax: I’ve read the cloud-omens in heaven. It curls, it curls! his tail—it curls! Look, it clings to his buttocks! Faugh, faugh, faugh, faugh, uff! 40 What! Ka-haku-ma’a-lani your name! Answer from heaven, oh Kane! My song it is done!
If one can trust, the statement of the Hawaiian who
communicated the above mele, it represents only a portion of
the whole composition, the first canto—if we may so term
it—having dropped into the limbo of forgetfulness. The
author’s study of the mele lends no countenance to such a
view. Like all Hawaiian poetry, this mele wastes no time with
introductory flourishes; it plunges at once in medias res.
Hawaiian mythology figured Pele, the goddess of the volcano,
as a creature of passion, capable of many metamorphoses; now
a wrinkled hag, asleep in a cave on a rough lava bed, with
banked fires and only an occasional blue flame playing about
her as symbols of her power; now a creature of terror, riding
on a chariot of flame and carrying destruction; and now as a
young woman of seductive beauty, as when she sought
passionate relations with the handsome prince, Lohiau; but in
disposition always jealous, fickle, vengeful.
Kama-pua’a was a demigod of anomalous birth, character, and
make-up, sharing the nature and form of a man and of a hog,
and assuming either form as suited the occasion. He was said
to be the nephew of Olopana, a king of Oahu, whose kindness
in acting as his foster father he repaid by the robbery of
his henroosts and other unfilial conduct. He lived the
lawless life of a marauder and freebooter, not confining his
operations to one island, but swimming from one to another as
the fit took him. On one occasion, when the farmers of
Waipi’o, whom he had robbed, assembled with arms to bar his
retreat and to deal vengeance upon him, he charged upon the
multitude, overthrew them with great slaughter, and escaped
with his plunder.
Toward Pele Kama-pua’a assumed the attitude of a lover, whose
approaches she at one time permitted to her peril. The
incident took place in one of the water caves—volcanic
bubbles—in Puna, and at the level of the ocean; but when he
had the audacity to invade her privacy and call to her as she
reposed in her home at Kilauea she repelled his advances and
answered his persistence with a fiery onset, from which he
[Page 232] fled in terror and discomfiture, not halting until he had put the width of many islands and ocean channels between himself and her.
In seeking an explanation of this myth of Pele, the volcano
god and Kama-pua’a, who, on occasion, was a sea-monster,
there is no necessity to hark back to the old polemics of
Asia. Why not account for this remarkable myth as the
statement in terms of passion familiar to all Hawaiians of
those impressive natural phenomena that were daily going on
before them? The spectacle of the smoking mountain pouring
out its fiery streams, overwhelming river and forest, halting
not until they had invaded the ocean; the awful turmoil as
fire and water came in contact; the quick reprisal as the
angry waves overswept the land; then the subsiding and
retreat of the ocean to its own limits and the restoration of
peace and calm, the fiery mount still unmoved, an apparent
victory for the volcanic forces. Was it not this spectacular
tournament of the elements that the Hawaiian sought to embody
and idealize in his myth of Pele and Kama-pua’a?[451]
[Footnote 451: “The Hawaiian tradition of *Pele*, the dread
goddess of the volcanic fires,” says Mr. Fornander,
“analogous to the Samoan *Fe’e*, is probably a local
adaptation in aftertimes of an elder myth, half forgotten and
much distorted. The contest related in the legend between
Pele and *Kamapua’a*, the eight-eyed monster demigod,
indicates, however, a confused knowledge of some ancient
strife between religious sects, of which the former
represented the worshipers of fire and the latter those with
whom water was the principal element worthy of adoration.”
(Abraham Fornander, The Polynesian Race, pp. 51, 52, Trubner
& Co., London.)]
The likeness to be found between the amphibious Kama-pua’a
and the hog appeals picturesquely to one’s imagination in
many ways. The very grossness of the hog enables him
becomingly to fill the role of the Beast as a foil to Pele,
the Beauty. The hog’s rooting snout, that ravages the
cultivated fields; his panicky retreat when suddenly
disturbed; his valiant charge and stout resistance if
cornered; his lowered snout in charge or retreat; his curling
tail—how graphically all these features appeal to the
imagination in support of the comparison which likens him to
a tidal wave.
[Page 233]
XXXIV.—THE HULA OHELO
The hula *ohelo* was a very peculiar ancient dance, in which
the actors, of both sexes, took a position almost that of
reclining, the body supported horizontally by means of the
hand and extended leg of one side, in such a manner that
flank and buttock did not rest upon the floor, while the free
leg and arm of the opposite side swung in wide gestures, now
as if describing the arch of heaven, or sweeping the circle
of the horizon, now held straight, now curved like a hook. At
times the company, acting in concert, would shift their base
of support from the right hand to the left hand, or vice
versa. The whole action, though fantastical, was conducted
with modesty. There was no instrumental accompaniment; but
while performing the gymnastics above described the actors
chanted the words of a mele to some Old World tune, the
melody and rhythm of which are lost.
A peculiar feature of the training to which pupils were
subjected in preparation for this dance was to range them in
a circle about a large fire, their feet pointing to the
hearth. The theory of this practice was that the heat of the
fire suppled the limbs and imparted vivacity to the motions,
on the same principle apparently as fire enables one to bend
into shape a crooked stick. The word *kapuahi*, fireplace, in
the fourth line of the mele, is undoubtedly an allusion to
this practice.
The fact that the climate of the islands, except in the
mountains and uplands, is rarely so cold as to make it
necessary to gather about a fire seems to argue that the
custom of practising this dance about a fireplace must have
originated in some land of climate more austere than Hawaii.
It is safe to say that very few kumu-hulas have seen and many
have not even heard of the hula ohelo. The author has an
authentic account of its production at Ewa in the year 1856,
its last performance, so far as he can learn, on the public
stage.
*Mele*
1
Ku, oe ko’u wahi ohelo nei la, auwe, auwe!
Maka’u au i kau mea nui wali-wali, wali-wali!
Ke hoolewa nei, a lewa la, a lewa nei!
Minomino, enaena ka ia la kapuahi, kapuahi!
5 Nenea i ka la’i o Kona, o Kona, a o Kona!
Ponu malino i ke kai hawana-wana, hawana-wana!
He makau na ka lawaia nui, a nui e, a nui la!
Ke o-é nei ke aho o ka ipu-holoholona, holoholona!
[Page 234] Naná i ka opua makai e, makai la! 10 Maikai ka hana a Mali’o e, a Mali’o la! Kohu pono ka inu ana i ka wai, a wai e! Auwe, ku oe ko’u wahi ohelo nei la, ohelo nei la!
2
Ki-ó lele, ki-ó lele, ki-ó lele, e!
Ke mapu mai nei ke ala, ke ala e!
15 Ua malihini ka hale, ua hiki ia, ua hiki e!
Ho’i paoa i ka uka o Manai-ula, ula la, ula e!
Maanei oe, e ka makemake e noho malie, ma-li-e!
Ka pa kolonahe o ka Unulau mahope, ma-ho-pe!
Pe’e oe, a pe’e au, pe’e o ia la,
20 A haawe ke aloha i ke kaona, i ke kaona la!
Mo-li-a i ka nahele e, nahele la!
E hele oe a manao mai i ka luhi mua, a i-mua!
O moe hewa na iwi i ke alanui, alanui.
Kaapa Hawaii a ka moku nui, a nui e!
25 Nui mai ke aloha a uwe au, a uwe au.
Au-we! pau au i ka manó nui, manó nui!
Au-we! pau au i ka manó nui, manó nui!
[Translation.]
*Song*
1
Touched, thou art touched by my gesture, I fear, I fear.
I dread your mountain of flesh, of flesh;
How it sways, how it sways, it sways!
I’m scorched by the heat of this hearth, this hearth.
5 We bask in this summer of Kona, of Kona;
Calm mantles the whispering sea, the whispering sea.
Lo, the hook of the fisherman great, oh so great!
The line hums as it runs from the gourd, from the gourd.
Regard the cloud-omens over the sea, the sea.
10 Well skilled in his craft is Mali’o, Mali’o.
How grateful now were a draught of water, of water!
Pardon! thou art touched by thrust of my leg, of my leg!
2
Forth and return, forth and return, forth and return!
Now waft the woodland perfumes, the woodland perfumes.
15 The house ere we entered was tenant-free, quite free.
Heart-heavy we turn to the greenwood, the greenwood;
This the place, Heart’s desire, you should tarry,
And feel the soft breath of the Unulau, Unulau—
Retirement for you, retirement for me, and for him.
20 We’ll give then our heart to this task, this great task,
And build in the wildwood a shrine, ay a shrine.
You go; forget not the toils we have shared, have shared,
Lest your bones lie unblest in the road, in the road.
How wearisome, long, the road ’bout Hawaii, great Hawaii!
25 Love carries me off with a rush, and I cry, I cry,
Alas, I’m devoured by the shark, great shark!
This is not the first time that a Hawaiian poet has figured
love by the monster shark.
[Page 235]
XXXV.—THE HULA KILU
The hula *kilu* was so called from being used in a sport
bearing that name which was much patronized by the alii class
of the ancient regime. It was a betting game, or, more
strictly, forfeits were pledged, the payment of which was met
by the performance of a dance, or by the exaction of kisses
and embraces. The satisfaction of these forfeits not
infrequently called for liberties and concessions that could
not be permitted on the spot or in public, but must wait the
opportunity of seclusion. There were, no doubt, times when
the conduct of the game was carried to such a pitch of
license as to offend decency; but as a rule the outward
proprieties were seemingly as well regarded as at an
old-fashioned husking bee, when the finding of the “red ear”
conferred or imposed the privilege or penalty of exacting or
granting the blushing tribute of a kiss. Actual improprieties
were not witnessed.
The game of kilu was played in an open matted space that lay
between the two divisions of the audience—the women being on
one side and the men on the other. Any chief of recognized
rank in the *papa alii* was permitted to join in the game;
and kings and queens were not above participating in the
pleasures of this sport. Once admitted to the hall or
inclosure, all were peers and stood on an equal footing as to
the rules and privileges of the game. King nor queen could
plead exemption from the forfeits incurred nor deny to
another the full exercise of privileges acquired under the
rules.
The players, five or more of each sex, having been selected
by the president, *La anoano* (“quiet day”), sat facing each
other in the space between the spectators. In front of each
player stood a conical block of heavy wood, broad at the base
to keep it upright. The kilu, with which the game was played,
was an oval, one-sided dish, made by cutting in two an
egg-shaped coconut shell. The object of the player was to
throw his kilu so that it should travel with a sliding and at
the same time a rotary motion across the matted floor and hit
the wooden block which stood before the one of his choice on
the side opposite. The men and the women took turns in
playing. A successful hit entitled the player to claim a kiss
from his opponent, a toll which was exacted at once. Success
in winning ten points made one the victor in the game, and,
according to some, entitled him to claim the larger forfeit,
[Page 236] such as was customary in the democratic game of ume. The payment of these extreme forfeits was delayed till a convenient season, or might be commuted—on grounds of policy, or at the request of the loser, if a king or queen—by an equivalent of land or other valuable possession. Still no fault could be found if the winner insisted on the strict payment of the forfeit.
The game of kilu was often got up as a compliment, a supreme
expression of hospitality, to distinguished visitors of rank,
thus more than making good the polite phrase of the Spanish
don, “all that I have is yours.”
The fact that the hula kilu was performed by the alii class,
who took great pains and by assiduous practice made
themselves proficient that they might be ready to exhibit
their accomplishment before the public, was a guarantee that
this hula, when performed by them, would be of more than
usual grace and vivacity. When performed in the halau as a
tabu dance, according to some, the olapa alone took part, and
the number of dancers, never very large, was at times limited
to one performer. Authorities differ as to whether any
musical instrument was used as an accompaniment. From an
allusion to this dance met with in an old story it is quite
certain that the drum was sometimes used as an accompaniment.
Let us picture to ourselves the scene: A shadowy,
flower-scented hall; the elite of some Hawaiian court and
their guests, gathered, in accord with old-time practice, to
contend in a tournament of wit and grace and skill, vying
with one another for the prize of beauty. The president has
established order in the assembly; the opposing players have
taken their stations, each one seated behind his
target-block. The tallykeeper of one side now makes the
challenge. “This kilu,” says he, “is a love token; the
forfeit a kiss.” An Apollo of the opposite side joyfully
takes up the gauge. His tallykeeper introduces him by name.
He plumes himself like a wild bird of gay feather, standing
forth in the decorous finery of his rank, girded and
flowerbedecked after the manner of the halau, eager to win
applause for his party not less than to secure for himself
the loving reward of victory. In his hand is the instrument
of the play, the kilu; the artillery of love, however, with
which he is to assail the heart and warm the imagination of
the fair woman opposed to him is the song he shoots from his
lips.
The story of the two songs next to be presented is one, and
will show us a side of Hawaiian life on which we can not
afford entirely to close our eyes. During the stay at Lahaina
of Kamehameha, called the Great—whom an informant in this
matter always calls “the murderer,” in protest against the
treacherous assassination of Keoua, which took place at
Kawaihae in Kamehameha’s very presence—a high chiefess of
his court named Kalola engaged in a love affair with a young
[Page 237] man of rank named Ka’i-áma. He was much her junior, but this did not prevent his infatuation. Early one morning she rose, leaving him sound asleep, and took canoe for Molokai to serve as one of the escort to the body of her relative, Keola, on the way to its place of sepulture.
Some woman, appreciating the situation, posted to the house
and waked the sleeper with the information. Ka’iáma hastened
to the shore, and as he strained his vision to gain sight of
the woman of his infatuation the men at the paddles and the
bristling throng on the central platform—the *pola*—of the
craft, vanishing in the twilight, made on his imagination the
impression of a hazy mountain thicket floating on the waves,
but hiding from view some rare flower. He gave vent to his
feelings in song:
*Mele*
Pua ehu kamaléna[452] ka uka o Kapa’a;
Luhi-ehu iho la[453] ka pua i Maile-húna;
Hele a ha ka iwi[454] a ke Koolau,
Ke puá mai i ka maka o ka nahelehele,
5 I hali hoo-muú,[455] hoohalana i Wailua.
Pa kahea a Koolau-wahine,
O Pua-ke’i, e-e-e-e!
He pua laukona[456] ka moe e aloh’ aí;
O ia moe la, e kaulele hou[457]
10 No ka po i hala aku aku nei.
Hoiho kaua a eloelo, e ka hoa, e,
A hookahi!
[Translation.]
*Song*
Misty and dim, a bush in the wilds of Kapa’a,
The paddlers bend to their work, as the flower-laden
Shrub inclines to the earth in Maile-húna;
They sway like reeds in the breeze to crack their bones
5 Such the sight as I look at this tossing grove,
The rhythmic dip and swing on to Wailua.
My call to the witch shall fly with the breeze,
Shall be heard at Pua-ke’i, e-he, e-he!
The flower-stalk Laukóna beguiles man to love,
10 Can bring back the taste of joys once our own,
[Page 238] Make real again the hours that are flown. Turn hither, mine own, let’s drench us with love— Just for one night!
[Footnote 452: *Pua ehu Kamaléna* (yellow child). This
exclamation is descriptive of the man’s visual impression on
seeing the canoe with its crowd of passengers and paddlers,
in the misty light of morning, receding in the distance. The
kamaléna is a mountain shrub having a yellow flower.]
[Footnote 453: *Luhi ehu iho la*. Refers to the drooping of a
shrub under the weight of its leaves and flowers, a figure
applied to the bending of the paddlemen to their work.]
[Footnote 454: *Hele a ha ka iwi*. An exaggerated figure of
speech, referring to the exertions of the men at their
paddles (*ha*, to strain).]
[Footnote 455: *I hali hoomú*. This refers in a fine spirit of
exaggeration to the regular motions of the paddlers.]
[Footnote 456: *Pua laukona*. A kind of sugar-cane which was
prescribed and used by the kahunas as an aphrodisiac.]
[Footnote 457: *Kaulele hou*. To experience, or to enjoy,
again.]
The unchivalrous indiscretion of the youth in publishing the
secret of his amour elicited from Kamehameha only the
sarcastic remark, “Couldn’t he eat his food and keep his
mouth shut?” The lady herself took the same view of his
action. There was no evasion in her reply; her only reproach
was for his childishness in blabbing.
*Mele*
Kálakálaíhi, kaha[458] ka La ma ke kua o Lehua;
Lulana iho la ka pihe a ke Akua;[459]
Ea mai ka Unulau[460] o Halali’i;
Lawe ke Koolau-wahine[461] i ka hoa la, lilo;
5 Hao ka Mikioi[462] i ke kai o Lehua:
Puwa-i’a na hoa-makani[463] mai lalo, e-e-e, a.
I hoonalonalo i ke aloha, pe’e ma-loko;
Ha’i ka wai-maka hanini;
I ike aku no i ka uwe ana iho;
10 Pelá wale no ka hoa kamalii, e-e, a!
[Translation.]
*Song*
The sun-furrow gleams at the back of Lehua;
The King’s had his fill of scandal and chaff;
The wind-god empties his lungs with a laugh;
And the Mikioi tosses the sea at Lehua,
5 As the trade-wind wafts his friend on her way—
A congress of airs that ruffles the bay.
Hide love ’neath a mask—that’s all I would ask.
To spill but a tear makes our love-tale appear;
He pours out his woe; I’ve seen it, I know;
10 That’s the way with a boy-friend, heigh-ho!
The art of translating from the Hawaiian into the English
tongue consists largely in a fitting substitution of generic
for specific terms. The Hawaiian, for instance, had at
command scores of specific names for the same wind, or for
[Page 239] the local modifications that were inflicted upon it by the features of the landscape. One might almost say that every cape and headland imposed a new nomenclature upon the breeze whose direction it influenced. He rarely contented himself with using a broad and comprehensive term when he could match the situation with a special form.
[Footnote 458: The picture of the sun declining, *kaha*, to the
west, its reflected light-track, *kala kalaihi*, farrowing
the ocean with glory, may be taken to be figurative of the
loved and beautiful woman, Kalola, speeding on her westward
canoe-flight.]
[Footnote 459: *Akua*. Literally a god, must stand for the
king.]
[Footnote 460: *Unulau*. A special name for the trade-wind.]
[Footnote 461: *Koolau-wahine*. Likewise another name for the
trade-wind, here represented as carrying off the (man’s)
companion.]
[Footnote 462: *Mikioi*. An impetuous, gusty wind is
represented as lashing the ocean at Lehua, thus picturing the
emotional stir attending Kalola’s departure.]
[Footnote 463: The words *Puwa-i’a na hoa makani*, which
literally mean that the congress of winds, *na hoa makani*,
have stirred up a commotion, even as a school of fish agitate
the surface, of the ocean, *puwa-i’a*, refer to the scandal
caused by Ka’i-ama’s conduct.]
The singer restricts her blame to charging her youthful lover
with an indiscreet exhibition of childish emotion. The mere
display of emotion evinced by the shedding of tears was in
itself a laudable action and in good form.
This first reply of the woman to her youthful lover did not
by any means exhaust her armament of retaliation. When she
next treats of the affair it is with an added touch of
sarcasm and yet with a sang-froid that proved it had not
unsettled her nerves.
*Mele*
Ula Kala’e-loa[464] i ka lepo a ka makani;
Hoonu’anu’a na pua i Kalama-ula,
He hoa i ka la’i a ka manu—[465]
Manu ai ia i ka hoa laukona.
5 I keke lau-au’a ia e ka moe;
E kuhi ana ia he kanaka e.
Oau no keia mai luna a lalo;
Huná, ke aloha, pe’e maloko.
Ike ’a i ka uwe ana iho.
10 Pelá ka hoa kamalii—
He uwe wale ke kamalii.
[Translation.]
*Song*
Red glows Kala’e through the wind-blown dust
That defiles the flowers of Lama-ula,
Outraged by the croak of this bird,
That eats of the aphrodisiac cane,
5 And then boasts the privileged bed.
He makes me a creature of outlaw:
True to myself from crown to foot-sole,
My love I’ve kept sacred, pent up within.
He flouts it as common, weeping it forth—
10 That is the way with a child-friend;
A child just blubbers at nothing.
[Footnote 464: *Kala’e-loa*. The full name of the place on
Molokai now known as Kala’e.]
[Footnote 465: *La’i a ka manu*. Some claim this to be a proper
name, *La’i-a-ka-manu*, that of a place near Kala’e. However
that may be the poet evidently uses the phrase here in its
etymological sense.]
To return to the description of the game, the player, having
uttered his vaunt in true knightly fashion, with a dexterous
whirl now sends his kilu spinning on its course. If his play
is successful and the kilu strikes the target on the other
[Page 240] side at which he aims, the audience, who have kept silence till now, break forth in applause, and his tally-keeper proclaims his success in boastful fashion:
*Oli*
A úweuwé ke kó’e a ke kae;
Puehuehu ka la, komo inoino;
Kakía, kahe ka ua ilalo.
[Translation.]
Now wriggles the worm to its goal;
A tousling; a hasty encounter;
A grapple; down falls the rain.
It is now the winner’s right to cross over and claim his
forfeit. The audience deals out applause or derision in
unstinted measure; the enthusiasm reaches fever-point when
some one makes himself the champion of the game by bringing
his score up to ten, the limit. The play is often kept up
till morning, to be resumed the following night.[466]
[Footnote 466: The account above given is largely based on
David Malo’s description of the game kilu. In his confessedly
imperfect list of the hulas he does not mention the hula
kilu. This hula was, however, included in the list of hulas
announced for performance in the programme of King Kalakaua’s
coronation ceremonies.]
Here also is a mele, which tradition reports to have been
cantillated by Hiiaka, the sister of Pele, during her famous
kilu contest with the Princess Pele-ula, which took place at
Kou—the ancient name for Honolulu—on Hiiaka’s voyage of
return from Kauai to her sister’s court at Kilauea. In this
affair Lohiau and Wahineoma’o contended on the side of
Hiiaka, while Pele-ula was assisted by her husband, Kou, and
by other experts. But on this occasion the dice were cogged;
the victory was won not by human skill but by the magical
power of Hiiaka, who turned Pele-ula’s kilu away from the
target each time she threw it, but used her gift to compel it
to the mark when the kilu was cast by herself.
*Mele*
Ku’u noa mai ka makani kuehu-kapa o Kalalau,[467]
Mai na pali ku’i[468] o Makua-iki,
Ke lawe la i ka haka,[469] a lilo!
A lilo o-e, la!
5 Ku’u kane i ka uhu ka’i o Maka-pu’u,
Huki iluna ka Lae-o-ka-laau;[470]
Oia pali makua-ole[471] olaila.
Ohiohi ku ka pali o Ulamao, e-e!
A lilo oe, la!
[Footnote 467: *Ka-lalau* (in the translation by the omission
of the article *ka*, shortened to *Lalau*). A deep
cliff-bound valley on the windward side of Kauai, accessible
only at certain times of the year by boats and by a steep
mountain trail at its head.]
[Footnote 468: *Pali ku’i*. *Ku’i* means literally to join
together, to splice or piece out. The cliffs tower one above
another like the steps of a stairway.]
[Footnote 469: *Haka*. A ladder or frame such as was laid
across a chasm or set up at an impassable place in a
precipitous road. The windward side of Kauai about Kalalau
abounded in such places.]
[Footnote 470: *Lae-o-ka-laau*. The southwest point of Molokai,
on which is a light-house.]
[Footnote 471: *Makua-ole*. Literally fatherless, perhaps
meaning remarkable, without peer.]
[Page 241]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Comrade mine in the robe-stripping gusts of Lalau,
On the up-piled beetling cliffs of Makua,
The ladder... is taken away... it is gone!
Your way is cut off, my man!
5 With you I’ve backed the uhu of Maka-pu’u,
Tugging them up the steeps of Point-o’-woods,
A cliff that stands fatherless, even as
Sheer stands the pali of Ula-mao—
And thus... you are lost!
This is but a fragment of the song which Hiiaka pours out in
her efforts to calm the fateful storm which she saw piling up
along the horizon. The situation was tragic. Hiiaka, daring
fate, defying the dragons and monsters of the primeval world,
had made the journey to Kauai, had snatched away from death
the life of Lohiau and with incredible self-denial was
escorting the rare youth to the arms of her sister, whose
jealousy she knew to be quick as the lightning, her vengeance
hot as the breath of the volcano, and now she saw this
featherhead, with monstrous ingratitude, dallying with fate,
calling down upon the whole party the doom she alone could
appreciate, all for the smile of a siren whose charms
attracted him for the moment; but, worst of all, her heart
condemned her as a traitress—she loved him.
Hiiaka held the trick-card and she won; by her miraculous
power she kept the game in her own hands and foiled the hopes
of the lovers.
*Mele*
Ula ka lani ia Kanaloa,[472]
Ula ma’ema’e ke ahi a ke A’e-loa.[473]
Pohina iluna i ke ao makani,
Naue pu no i ka ilikai o Makahana-loa,[474]
5 Makemake i ka ua lihau.[475]
Aohe hana i koe a Ka-wai-loa;[476]
Noho a ka li’u-lá i ke kula.
I kula oe no ka makemake, a hiki iho,
I hoa hula no ka la le’ale’a,
10 I noho pu me ka uahi pohina.[477]
[Page 242] Hina oe i ka Naulu,[478] noho pu me ka Inuwai.[479] Akahi no a pumehana ka hale, ua hiki oe: Ma’ema’e ka luna i Haupu.[480] Upu ka makemake e ike ia Ka-ala. 15 He ala ka makemake e ike ia Lihu’e;[481] Ku’u uka ia noho ia Halemano.[482] Maanei oe, pale oe, pale au, Hana ne’e ke kikala i ka ha’i keiki. Hai’na ka manao—noho i Waimea, 20 Hoonu’u pu i ka i’a ku o ka aina.[483] E kala oe a kala au a kala ia Ku, Ahuena.[484]
[Footnote 472: *Kanaloa*. One of the four great gods of the
Hawaiians, here represented as playing the part of Phoebus
Apollo.]
[Footnote 473: *A’e-loa*. The name of a wind whose blowing was
said to be favorable to the fisherman in this region.]
[Footnote 474: *Makahana-loa*, A favorite fishing ground. The
word *ilikai* (“skin of the sea”) graphically depicts the
calm of the region. In the translation the name
aforementioned has been shortened to Kahana.]
[Footnote 475: *Lihau*. A gentle rain that was considered
favorable to the work of the fisherman.]
[Footnote 476: *Ka-wai-loa*. A division of Waialua, here
seemingly used to mean the farm.]
[Footnote 477: *Uahi pohina*. Literally gray-headed smoke. It
is said that when studying together the words of the mele the
pupils and the kumu would often gather about a fire, while
the teacher recited and expounded the text. There is a
possible allusion to this in the mention of the smoke.]
[Footnote 478: *Naulu*. A wind.]
[Footnote 479: *Inu-wai*. A wind that dried up vegetation, here
indicating thirst.]
[Footnote 480: *Haupu*. A mountain on Kauai, sometimes visible
on Oahu in clear weather. (See note *c*, p. 229, on Haupu.)]
[Footnote 481: *Lihu’e*. A beautiful and romantic region
nestled, as the Hawaiians say, “between the thighs of the
mountain,” Mount Kaala.]
[Footnote 482: *Hale-mano*. Literally the multitude of houses;
a sylvan region bound to the southwestern flank of the
Konahuanui range of mountains, a region of legend and
romance, since the coming of the white man given over to the
ravage and desolation that follow the free-ranging of cattle
and horses, the vaquero, and the abusive use of fire and ax
by the woodman.]
[Footnote 483: *I’a ku o ka aina*. Fish common to a region; in
this place it was probably the kala, which word is found in
the next line, though in a different sense. Here the
expression is doubtless a euphemism for dalliance.]
[Footnote 484: *Ku, Ahuena*. At Waimea, Oahu, stood two rocks
on the opposite bluffs that sentineled the bay. These rocks
were said to represent respectively the gods Ku and Ahuena,
patrons of the local fishermen.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Kanaloa tints heaven with a blush,
’Tis the flame of the A’e, pure red,
And gray the wind-clouds overhead.
We trudge to the waters calm of Kahana—
5 Heaven grant us a favoring shower!
The work is all done on the farm.
We stay till twilight steals o’er the plain,
Then, love-spurred, tramp o’er it again,
Have you as partner in holiday dance—
10 We’ve moiled as one in the gray smoke;
Cast down by the Naulu, you thirst.
For once the house warms at your coming.
How clear glow the heights of yon Haupu!
I long for the sight of Ka-ala,
15 And sweet is the thought of Lihu’e,
And our mountain retreat, Hale-mano.
Here, fenced from each other by tabu,
Your graces make sport for the crowd.
What then the solution? Let us dwell
20 At Waimea and feast on the fish
That swarm in the neighboring sea,
With freedom to you and freedom to me,
Licensed by Ku and by Ahu-éna.
[Page 243] The scene of this idyl is laid in the district of Waialua, Oahu, but the poet gives his imagination free range regardless of the unities. The chief subjects of interest that serve as a trellis about which the human sentiments entwine concern the duties of the fisherman, who is also a farmer; the school for the hula, in which the hero and the heroine are pupils; and lastly an ideal condition of happiness which the lovers look forward to tinder the benevolent dispensation of the gods Ku and Ahuena.
Among the numerous relatives of Pele was one said to be a
sister, who was stationed on a bleak sun-burnt promontory in
Koolau, Oahu, where she supported a half-starved existence,
striving to hold soul and body together by gathering the
herbs of the fields, eked out by unsolicited gifts of food
contributed by passing travelers. The pathetic plaint given
below is ascribed to this goddess.
*Mele*
Mao wale i ka lani
Ka leo o ke Akua pololi.
A pololi a moe au
O ku’u la pololi,
5 A ola i kou aloha;
I na’i pu no i ka waimaka e uwe nei.
E uwe kaua, e!
[Translation.]
*Song*
Engulfed ill heaven’s abyss
Is the cry of the famished god.
I sank to the ground from faintness,
My day of utter starvation;
5 Was rescued, revived, by your love:
Ours a contest of tears sympathetic—
Let us pour out together our tears.
The Hawaiian thought it not undignified to express sympathy
(*aloha-ino*) with tears.
[Page 244]
XXXVI.—THE HULA HOO-NA-NÁ
The hula *hoo-na-ná*—to quiet, amuse—was an informal dance,
such as was performed without the usual restrictions of tabu
that hedged about the set dances of the halau. The occasion
of an outdoor festival, an *ahaaina* or *luau*, was made the
opportunity for the exhibition of this dance. It seems to
have been an expression of pure sportiveness and
mirth-making, and was therefore performed without sacrifice
or religious ceremony. While the king, chiefs, and
*aialo*—courtiers who ate in the king’s presence—are
sitting with the guests about the festal board, two or three
dancers of graceful carriage make a circuit of the place,
ambling, capering, gesturing as they go in time to the words
of a gay song.
A performance of this sort was witnessed by the author’s
informant in Honolulu many years ago; the occasion was the
giving of a royal luau. There was no musical instrument, the
performers were men, and the mele they cantillated went as
follows:
A pili, a pili,
A pili ka’u manu
Ke kepau[485] o ka ulu-laau.
Poai a puni,
5 Noho ana i muli-wa’a;[486]
Hoonu’u ka momona a ke alii.
Eli-eli[487] ke kapu; ua noa.
Noa ia wai?
Noa ia ka lani.
10 Kau lilua,[488] kaohi ka maku’u
E ai ana ka ai a ke alii!
Hoonu’u, hoonu’u hoonu’u
I ka i’a a ke alii!
[Footnote 485: *Kepáu.* Gum, the bird-lime of the fowler,
which was obtained from forest trees, but especially from the
*ulu*, the breadfruit.]
[Footnote 486: *Muli-wa’a* (*muli*, a term applied to a younger
brother). The idea involved is that of separation by an
interval, as a younger brother is separated from his older
brother by an interval. *Muliwai* is an interval of water, a
stream. *Wa’a*, the last part of the above compound word,
literally a canoe, is here used tropically to mean the
tables, or the dishes, on which the food was spread, they
being long and narrow, in the shape of a canoe. The whole
term, consequently, refers to the people and the table about
which they are seated.]
[Footnote 487: *Eli-eli.* A word that is found in ancient
prayers to emphasize the word *kapu* or the word *noa*.]
[Footnote 488: *Lilua*. To stand erect and act without the
restraint usually prescribed in the presence of royalty.]
[Page 245]
[Translation.]
She is limed, she is limed,
My bird is limed,
With the gum of the forest.
We make a great circuit,
5 Outskirting the feast.
You shall feast on king’s bounty:
No fear of the tabu, all’s free.
Free! and By whom?
Free by the word of the king.
10 Then a free rein to mirth!
Banish the kill-joy
Who eats the king’s dainties!
Feast then till replete
With the good king’s meat!
[Page 246]
XXXVII.—THE HULA ULILI
The hula *ulili*, also called by the descriptive name
*kolili*—to wave or flutter, as a pennant—was a hula that
was not at all times confined to the tabu restrictions of the
halau. Like a truant schoolboy, it delighted to break loose
from restraint and join the informal pleasurings of the
people. Imagine an assembly of men and women in the
picturesque illumination given by flaring kukui torches, the
men on one side, the women on the other. Husbands and wives,
smothering the jealousy instinctive to the human heart, are
there by mutual consent—their daughters they leave at
home—each one ready to play his part to the finish, with no
thought of future recrimination. It was a game of
love-forfeits, on the same lines as kilu and ume.
Two men, armed with wands furnished with tufts of gay
feathers, pass up and down the files of men and women, waving
their decorated staffs, ever and anon indicating with a touch
of the wand persons of the opposite sex, who under the rules
must pay the forfeit demanded of them. The kissing, of
course, goes by favor. The wand-bearers, as they move along,
troll an amorous ditty:
*Oli*
Kii na ka ipo * * *
Mahele-hele i ka la o Kona![489]
O Kona, kai a ke Akua.[490]
Elua la, huli ka Wai-opua,[491]
5 Nehe i ke kula,
Leha iluna o Wai-aloha[492]
Kani ka aka a ka ua i ka laau,
Hoolaau ana i ke aloha ilaila.
Pili la, a pili i ka’u manu—
10 O pili o ka La-hiki-ola.
Ola ke kini o-lalo.
Hana i ka mea he ipo.
A hui e hui la!
Hui Koolau-wahine[493] o Pua-ke-i![494]
[Footnote 489: *La o Kona*. A day of Kona, i.e., of fine
weather.]
[Footnote 490: *Kai a ke Akua*. Sea of the gods, because calm.]
[Footnote 491: *Wai-opua*. A wind which changed its direction
after blowing for a few days from one quarter.]
[Footnote 492: *Wai-aloha*. The name of a hill. In the
translation the author has followed its meaning (“water of
love”).]
[Footnote 493: *Koolau-wahine*. The name of a refreshing wind,
often mentioned in Hawaiian poetry; here used as a symbol of
female affection.]
[Footnote 494: *Pua-ke-i*. The name of a sharp, bracing wind
felt on the windward side of Molokai; used here apparently as
a symbol of strong masculine passion.]
[Page 247]
[Translation.]
*Song*
A search for a sweetheart...
Sport for a Kona day!
Kona, calm sea of the gods.
Two days the wind surges;
5 Then, magic of cloud!
It veers to the plain,
Drinks up the water of love.
How gleesome the sound
Of rain on the trees,
10 A balm to love’s wound!
The wand touches, heart-ease!
It touches my bird—
Touch of life from the sun!
Brings health to the million.
15 Ho, now comes the fun!
A meeting, a union—
The nymph, Koo-lau,
And the hero, Ke-í.
[Page 248]
XXXVIII.—THE HULA O-NIU
The so-called hula *o-niu* is not to be classed with the
regular dances of the halau. It was rather a popular sport,
in which men and women capered about in an informal dance
while the players engaged in a competitive game of
top-spinning: The instrument of sport was made from the lower
pointed half of an oval coconut shell, or from the
corresponding part of a small gourd. The sport was conducted
in the presence of a mixed gathering of people amid the
enthusiasm and boisterous effervescence which betting always
greatly stimulated in Hawaii.
The players were divided into two sides of equal number, and
each player had before him a plank, slightly hollowed in the
center—like the board on which the Hawaiians pounded their
poi—to be used as the bed for spinning his top. The naked
hand, unaided by whip or string, was used to impart to the
rude top a spinning motion and at the same time the necessary
projectile force—a balancing of forces that called for nice
adjustment, lest the whirling thing reel too far to one side
or run wild and fly its smooth bed. Victory was declared and
the wager given to the player whose top spun the longest.
The feature that most interests us is the singing, or
cantillation, of the oli. In a dance and game of this sort,
which the author’s informant witnessed at Kahuku, Oahu, in
1844, one contestant on each side, in turn, cantillated an
oli during the performance of the game and the dance.
*Oli*
Ke pohá, nei; u’ína la!
Kani óle-oléi, hau-walaau!
Ke wawa Pu’u-hina-hina;[495]
Kani ka aka, he-hene na pali,
5 Na pali o Ka-iwi-ku’i.[496]
Hanohano, makana i ka Wai-opua.[497]
Malihini ka hale, ua hiki mai;
Kani ka pahu a Lohiau,
A Lohiau-ipo[498] i Haena la.
10 Enaena ke aloha, ke hiki mai;
[Page 249] Auau i ka wai a Kanaloa.[499] Nana kaua ia Lima-huli,[500] e. E huli oe a loaa pono Ka ia nei o-niu.
[Footnote 495: *Pu’u-hina-hina*. A precipitous place on the
coast near Haena.]
[Footnote 496: *Ka-iwi-ku’i*. A high cliff against which the
waves dash.]
[Footnote 497: *Wai-opua*. The name of a pleasant breeze.]
[Footnote 498: *Lohiau-ipo*. The epithet *ipo*, sweetheart,
dear one, was often affixed to the name of Lohiau, in token,
no doubt, of his being distinguished as the object of Pele’s
passionate regard.]
[Footnote 499: *Kanaloa*. There is a deep basin, of clear
water, almost fluorescent in its sparkle, in one of the
arched caves of Haena, which is called the water of
Kanaloa—the name of the great God. This is a favorite
bathing place.]
[Footnote 500: Lima-huli. The name of a beautiful valley that
lies back of Haena.]
[Translation.]
Song
The rustle and hum of spinning top,
Wild laughter and babel of sound—
Hear the roar of the waves at Pu’u-hina!
Bursts of derision echoed from cliffs,
5 The cliffs of Ka-iwi-ku’i;
And the day is stirred by a breeze.
The house swarms with women and men.
List! the drum-beat of Lohiau,
Lohiau, the lover, prince of Haena—
10 Love glows like an oven at his coming;
Then to bathe in the lake of the God.
Let us look at the vale Lima-huli, look!
Now turn we and study the spinning—
That trick we must catch to be winning.
This fragment from antiquity, as the local coloring
indicates, finds its setting at Haena, the home of the famous
mythological Prince Lohiau, of whom Pele became enamored in
her spirit journey. Study of the mele suggests the occasion
to have been the feast that was given in celebration of
Lohiau’s restoration to life and health through the
persevering incantations of Hiiaka, Pele’s beloved sister.
The feast was also Lohiau’s farewell to his friends at Haena.
At its conclusion Hiiaka started with her charge on the
journey which ended with the tragic death of Lohiau at the
brink of the volcano. Pele in her jealousy poured out her
fire and consumed the man whom she had loved.
[Page 250]
XXXIX.—THE HULA KU’I
The account of the Hawaiian hulas would be incomplete if
without mention of the hula *ku’i*. This was an invention, or
introduction, of the last quarter of the nineteenth century.
Its formal, public, appearance dates from the coronation
ceremonies of the late King Kalakaua, 1883, when it filled an
important place in the programme. Of the 262 hula
performances listed for exhibition, some 30 were of the hula
ku’i. This is perhaps the most democratic of the hulas, and
from the date of its introduction it sprang at once into
public favor. Not many years ago one could witness its
extemporaneous performance by nonprofessionals at many an
entertainment and festive gathering. Even the
school-children took it up and might frequently be seen
innocently footing its measures on the streets. (Pl. XXIV.)
The steps and motions of the hula ku’i to the eyes of the
author resemble those of some Spanish dances. The rhythm is
in common, or double, time. One observes the following
motions:
*Figure A*.—1. A step obliquely forward with the left foot,
arms pointing the same way, body inclining to the right. 2.
The ball of the left foot (still advanced) gently pressed on
the floor; the heel swings back and forth, describing an arc
of some 30 or 40 degrees. 8. The left foot is set firmly in
the last position, the body inclining to it as the base of
support; the right foot is advanced obliquely, and 4,
performs the heel-swinging motions above described, arms
pointing obliquely to the right.
*Figure B*.—Hands pressed to the waist, fingers directed
forward, thumbs backward, elbows well away from the body;
left foot advanced as in figure A, 1, body inclining to the
right. 2. The left foot performs the heel-waving motions, as
above. 3. Hands in same position, right foot advanced as
previously described. 4. The right foot performs the swinging
motions previously described—the body inclined to the left.
*Figure C*.—In this figure, while the hands are pressed as
before against the waist, with the elbows thrown well away
from the body, the performer sways the pelvis and central
axis of the trunk in a circular or elliptical orbit, a
movement, which, carried to the extreme, is termed ami.
There are other figures and modifications, which the
ingenuity and fancy of performers have introduced into this
dance; but this account must suffice.
[Page 251] Given a demand for a pas seul, some pleasing dance combining grace with dexterity, a shake of the foot, a twist of the body, and a wave of the hands, the hula ku’i filled the bill to perfection. The very fact that it belonged by name to the genus hula, giving it, as it were, the smack of forbidden fruit, only added to its attractiveness. It became all the rage among dancing folk, attaining such a vogue as almost to cause a panic among the tribunes and censors of society. Even to one who cares nothing for the hula per se, save as it might be a spectacle out of old Hawaii, or a setting for an old-time song, the innocent grace and Delsartian flexibility of this solo dance, which one can not find in its Keltic or African congeners, associate it in mind with the joy and light-heartedness of man’s Arcadian period.
The instruments generally used in the musical accompaniment
of the hula ku’i are the guitar, the *uku-lele*,[501] the
taro-patch fiddle,[501] or the mandolin; the piano also lends
itself effectively for this purpose; or a combination of
these may be used.
The songs that are sung to this dance as a rule belong
naturally to later productions of the Hawaiian muse, or to
modifications of old poetical compositions. The following
mele was originally a namesong (mele-inoa). It was
appropriated by the late Princess Kino-iki; and by her it was
passed on to Kalani-ana-ole, a fact which should not
prejudice our appreciation of its beauty.
*Mele*
I aloha i ke ko a ka wai,
I ka i mai, e, anu kaua.
Ua anu na pua o ka laina,[502]
Ka wahine noho anu o ke kula.
5 A luna au a o Poli-ahu;[503]
Ahu wale kai a o Wai-lua.
Lua-ole ka hana a ka makani,
A ke Kiu-ke’e[504] a o na pali,
Pa iho i ke kai a o Puna—
10 Ko Puna mea ma’a mau ia.
Pau ai ko’u lihi hoihoi
I ka wai awili me ke kai.
Ke ono hou nei ku’u pu’u
I ka wai hu’ihu’i o ka uka,
[Page 252] 15 Wai hone i ke kumu o ka pali, I malu i ka lau kui-kui.[505] Ke kuhi nei au a he pono Ka ilima lei a ke aloha, Au i kau nui aku ai, 20 I ka nani oi a oia pua.
[Footnote 501: The *uku-lele* and the *taro-patch fiddle* are
stringed instruments resembling in general appearance the
fiddle. They seem to have been introduced into these islands
by the Portuguese immigrants who have come in within the last
twenty-five years. As with the guitar, the four strings of
the uku-lele or the five strings of the taro-patch fiddle are
plucked with the finger or thumb.]
[Footnote 502: *Na pua o ka laina*. The intent of this
expression, which seems to have an erotic meaning, may
perhaps be inferred from its literal rendering in the
translation. It requires a tropical imagination to follow a
Hawaiian poem.]
[Footnote 503: *Poli-ahu*. A place or region on Mauna-kea.]
[Footnote 504: *Kiu-ke’e*. The name of a wind felt at
Nawiliwili, Kauai. The local names for winds differed on the
various islands and were multiplied almost without measure:
as given in the mythical story of Kama-pua’a, or in the
semihistoric tale of Kú-a-Paka’a, they taxed the memories of
raconteurs.]
[Footnote 505: *Kui-kui.* The older name-form of the tree
(Aleurites triloba), popularly known by some as the
candle-nut tree, from the fact that its oily nuts were used
in making torches. *Kukui*, or *tutui*, is the name now
applied to the tree, also to a torch or lamp. The Samoan
language still retains the archaic name *tuitui*. This is one
of the few instances in which the original etymology of a
word is retained in Hawaiian poetry.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
How pleasing, when borne by the tide,
One says, you and I are a-cold.
The buds of the center are chilled
Of the woman who shivers on shore.
5 I stood on the height Poli-ahu;
The ocean enrobed Wai-lua.
Ah, strange are the pranks of the wind,
The Kiu-ké’e wind of the pali!
It smites now the ocean at Puna—
10 That’s always the fashion at Puna.
Gone, gone is the last of my love,
At this mixture of brine in my drink!
My mouth is a-thirst for a draught
Of the cold mountain-water,
15 That plays at the foot of the cliff,
In the shade of the kui-kui tree.
I thought our love-flower, ilima—
Oft worn as a garland by you—
Still held its color most true.
20 You’d exchange its beauty for rue!
*Mele*
Kaulana mai nei Pua Lanakila;
Olali oe o ke aupuni hui,
Nana i koké áku ke kahua,
Na ale o ka Pakipika.
5 Lilo i mea ole na enemi;
Puuwai hao-kila, he manao paa;
Na ka nupepa la i hoike mai.
Ua kau Lanakila i ka hanohano,
O ka u’i mapela la o Aina-hau;
10 O ko’u hoa ia la e pili ai—
I hoa kaaua i ka puuwai,
I na kohi kelekele i ka Pu’ukolu.
Ina ilaila Pua Komela,
Ka u’i kaulana o Aina-pua!
15 O ka pua o ka Lehua me ka Ilima
I lei kahiko no ko’u kino,
Ka Palai lau-lii me ka Maile,
Ke ala e hoene i kou poli.
[Page 253]
[Translation.]
*Song*
Fame trumpets your conquests each day,
Brave Lily Victoria!
Your scepter finds new hearts to sway,
Subdues the Pacific’s wild waves,
5 Your foes are left stranded ashore,
Firm heart as of steel!
Dame Rumor tells us with glee
Your fortunes wax evermore,
Beauty of Aina-hau,
10 Comrade dear to my heart.
And what of the hyacinth maid,
Nymph of the Flowery Land?
I choose the lehua, ilima,
As my wreath and emblem of love,
15 The small-leafed fern and the maile—
What fragrance exhales from thy breast!
The story that might explain this modern lyric belongs to the
gossip of half a century ago. The action hinges about one who
is styled Pua Lanakila—literally Flower of Victory. Now
there is no flower, indigenous or imported, known by this
name to the Hawaiians. It is an allegorical invention of the
poet. A study of the name and of its interpretation, Victory,
at once suggested to me the probability that it was meant for
the Princess Victoria Kamamalu.
As I interpret the story, the lover seems at first to be in a
condition of unstable equilibrium, but finally concludes to
cleave to the flowers of the soil, the *lehua* and the
*ilima* (verse 15), the *palai* and the *maile* (verse 17),
the meaning of which is clear.
[Page 254]
XL.—THE OLI
The Hawaiian word *mele* included all forms of poetical
composition. The fact that the mele, in whatever form, was
intended for cantillation, or some sort of rhythmical
utterance addressed to the ear, has given to this word in
modern times a special meaning that covers the idea of song
or of singing, thus making it overlap ambiguously into the
territory that more properly belongs to the word *oli*. The
oli was in strict sense the lyric utterance of the Hawaiians.
In its most familiar form the Hawaiians—many of whom
possessed the gift of improvisation in a remarkable
degree—used the oli not only for the songful expression of
joy and affection, but as the vehicle of humorous or
sarcastic narrative in the entertainment of their comrades.
The traveler, as he trudged along under his swaying burden,
or as he rested by the wayside, would solace himself and his
companions with a pensive improvisation in the form of an
oli. Or, sitting about the camp-fire of an evening, without
the consolation of the social pipe or bowl, the people of the
olden time would keep warm the fire of good-fellowship and
cheer by the sing-song chanting of the oli, in which the
extemporaneous bard recounted the events of the day and won
the laughter and applause of his audience by witty, ofttimes
exaggerated, allusions to many a humorous incident that had
marked the journey. If a traveler, not knowing the language
of the country, noticed his Hawaiian guide and
baggage-carriers indulging in mirth while listening to an oli
by one of their number, he would probably be right in
suspecting himself to be the innocent butt of their
merriment.
The lover poured into the ears of his mistress his gentle
fancies: the mother stilled her child with some bizarre
allegory as she rocked it in her arms; the bard favored by
royalty—the poet laureate—amused the idle moments of his
chief with some witty improvisation; the alii himself, gifted
with the poetic fire, would air his humor or his didactic
comments in rhythmic shape—all in the form of the oli.
The dividing line, then, between the oli and those other
weightier forms of the mele, the *inoa*, the *kanikau*
(threnody), the *pule*, and that unnamed variety of mele in
which the poet dealt with historic or mythologic subjects, is
to be found almost wholly in the mood of the singer. In
truth, the Hawaiians not unfrequently applied the term pule
to compositions which we moderns find it hard to bring within
our definitions of prayer. For to our understanding the
Hawaiian pule often contains neither petition, nor entreaty,
nor aspiration, as we measure such things.
[Page 255] The oli from, its very name (oli-oli, joyful) conveys the notion of gladness, and therefore of song. It does not often run to such length as the more formal varieties of the mele; it is more likely to be pitched to the key of lyric and unconventional delight, and, as it seems to the writer, more often than other forms attains a gratifying unity by reason of closer adherence to some central thought or mood; albeit, when not so labeled, one might well be at a loss whether in any given case he should term the composition mele or oli.
It may not be entirely without significance that the first
and second examples here given come from Kauai, the island
which most vividly has retained a memory of the southern
lands that were the homes of the people until they came as
emigrants to Hawaii.
The story on which this song is founded relates that the
comely Pamaho’a was so fond of her husband during his life
that at his death she was unwilling to part with his bones.
Having cleaned and wrapped them in a bundle, she carried them
with her wherever she went. In the indiscretion begotten of
her ill-balanced state of mind she committed the mortal
offense of entering the royal residence while thus
encumbered, where was Kaahumanu, favorite wife of Kamehameha
I. The king detailed two constables (*ilamuku*) to remove the
woman and put her to death. When they had reached a safe
distance, moved with pity, the men said: “Our orders were to
slay; but what hinders you to escape?” The woman took the
hint and fled hot-foot.
*Oli*
Ka wai opua-makani o Wailua,[506]
I hulihia e ke kai;
Awahia ka lau hau,
Ai pála-ka-há, ka ai o Maká’u-kiu.
5 He kiu ka pua kukui,
He elele hooholo na ke Koolau;[507]
Ke kipaku mai la i ka wa’a—[508]
“E holo oe!”
Holo newa ka lau maia me ka pua hau,
10 I pili aloha me ka mokila ula i ka wai;
Maalo pulelo i ka wai o Malu-aka.
He aka kaua makani kaili-hoa;
Kaili ino ka lau Malua-kele,
Lalau, hopu hewa i ka hoa kanáka;[509]
[Page 256] 15 Koe a kau me ka manao iloko. Ke apo wale la no i ke one, I ka uwe wale iho no i Mo’o-mo’o-iki,[510] e! He ike moolelo na ke kuhi wale, Aole ma ka waha mai o kánaka, 20 Hewa, pono ai la hoi au, e ka hoa; Nou ka ke aloha, I lua-ai-ele[511] ai i-o, i anei; Ua kuewa i ke ala me ka wai-maka. Aohe wa, ua uku i kou hale— 25 Hewa au, e!
[Footnote 506: The scene is laid in the region about the
*Wailua*, a river on Kauai. This stream, tossed with waves
driven up from the sea, represents figuratively the
disturbance of the woman’s mind at the coming of the
officers.]
[Footnote 507: *Koolau*. The name of a wind; stands for the
messengers of the king, whose instructions were to expel
(*kipaku*, verse 7) and then to slay.]
[Footnote 508: *Wa’a*. Literally canoe; stands for the woman
herself.]
[Footnote 509: *Hoa kanáka*. Human companion; is an allusion to
the bundle of her husband’s bones which she carries with her,
but which are torn away and lost in the flood.]
[Footnote 510: *Mo’o-mo’o-iki*. A land at Wailua, Kauai.]
[Footnote 511: *Lua-ai-ele*. To carry about with one a sorrow.]
[Translation.]
*Song*
The wind-beaten stream of Wailua
Is tossed into waves from the sea;
Salt-drenched are the leaves of the hau,
The stalks of the taro all rotted—
5 ’Twas the crop of Maka’u-kiu,
The flowers of kukui are a telltale,
A messenger sped by the gale
To warn the canoe to depart.
Pray you depart!
10 Hot-foot, she’s off with her pack—
A bundle red-stained with the mud—
And ghost-swift she breasts Malu-aka.
Quest follows like smoke—lost is her companion;
Fierce the wind plucks at the leaves,
15 Grabs—by mistake—her burden, the man.
Despairing, she falls to the earth,
And, hugging the hillock of sand,
Sobs out her soul on the beach Mo-mo-iki.
A tale this wrung from my heart,
20 Not told by the tongue of man.
Wrong! yet right, was I, my friend;
My love after all was for you,
While I lived a vagabond life there and here,
Sowing my vagrom tears in all roads—
25 Prompt my payment of debt to your house—
Yes, truly, I’m wrong!
[Page 257]
XLI.—THE WATER OF KANE
If one were asked what, to the English-speaking mind,
constitutes the most representative romantico-mystical
aspiration that has been embodied in song and story,
doubtless he would be compelled to answer the legend and myth
of the Holy Grail. To the Hawaiian mind the aspiration and
conception that most nearly approximates to this is that
embodied in the words placed at the head of this chapter, The
Water of Kane. One finds suggestions and hints of this
conception in many passages of Hawaiian song and story,
sometimes a phosphorescent flash, answering to the dip of the
poet’s blade, sometimes crystallized into a set form; but
nowhere else than in the following mele have I found this
jewel deliberately wrought into shape, faceted, and fixed in
a distinct form of speech.
This mele comes from Kauai, the island which more than any
other of the Hawaiian group retains a tight hold on the
mystical and imaginative features that mark the mythology of
Polynesia; the island also which less than any other of the
group was dazzled by the glamour of royalty and enslaved by
the theory of the divine birth of kings.
*He Mele no Kane*
He ú-i, he ninau:
He ú-i aku ana au ia oe,
Aia i-héa ka wai a Kane?
Ala i ka hikina a ka La,
5 Puka i Hae-hae;[512]
Aia i-laila ka Wai a Kane.
E ú-i aku ana au ia oe,
Aia i-hea ka Wai a Kane?
Aia i Kau-lana-ka-la,[513]
10 I ka pae opua i ke kai,[514]
Ea mai ana ma Nihoa,[515]
[Page 258] Ma ka mole mai o Lehua; Aia i-laila ka Wai a Kane.
E ú-i aku ana au ia oe,
15 Aia i-hea ka Wai a Kane?
Aia i ke kua-hiwi, i ke kua-lono,
I ke awáwa, i ke kaha-wai;
Aia i-laila ka Wai a Kane.
E ú-i aku ana au ia oe,
20 Aia i-hea ka Wai a Kane?
Aia i-kai, i ka moana,
I ke Kua-lau, i ke anuenue,
I ka punohu,[516] i ka ua-koko,[517]
I ka alewa-lewa;
25 Aia i-laila ka Wai a Kane.
E ú-i aku ana au ia oe,
Aia i-hea ka Wai a Kane?
Aia i-luna ka Wai a Kane,
I ke ouli, i ke ao eleele,
30 I ke ao pano-pano,
I ke ao popolo-hua mea a Kane la, e!
Aia i-laila ka Wai a Kane.
E ú-i aku ana au ia oe,
Aia i-hea ka Wai a Kane?
35 Aia i-lalo, i ka honua, i ka Wai hu,
I ka wai kau a Kane me Kanaloa—[518]
He wai-puna, he wai e inu,
He wai e mana, he wai e ola.
E ola no, e-a!
[Footnote 512: *Hae-hae*. Heaven’s eastern gate; the portal in
the solid walls that supported the heavenly dome, through
which the sun entered in the morning.]
[Footnote 513: *Kau-lana-ka-la*. When the setting sun, perhaps
by an optical illusion drawn out into a boatlike form,
appeared to be floating on the surface of the ocean, the
Hawaiians named the phenomenon *Kau-lana-ka-la*—the floating
of the sun. Their fondness for personification showed itself
in the final conversion of this phrase into something like a
proper name, which they applied to the locality of the
phenomenon.]
[Footnote 514: *Pae opua i ke kai*. Another instance of
name-giving, applied to the bright clouds that seem to rest
on the horizon, especially to the west.]
[Footnote 515: *Nihoa* (Bird island). This small rock to the
northwest of Kauai, though far below the horizon, is here
spoken of as if it were in sight.]
[Footnote 516: *Punohu* A red luminous cloud, or a halo,
regarded as an omen portending some sacred and important
event.]
[Footnote 517: *Ua-koko*. Literally bloody rain, a term applied
to a rainbow when lying near the ground, or to a
freshet-stream swollen with the red muddy water from the wash
of the hillsides. These were important omens, claimed as
marking the birth of tabu chiefs.]
[Footnote 518: *Wai kau a Kane me Kanaloa*. Once when Kane and
Kanaloa were journeying together Kanaloa complained of
thirst. Kane thrust his staff into the pali near at hand, and
out flowed a stream of pure water that has continued to the
present day. The place is at Keanae, Maui.]
[Translation.]
*The Water of Kane*
A query, a question,
I put to you:
Where is the water of Kane?
At the Eastern Gate
5 Where the Sun comes in at Hae-hae;
There is the water of Kane.
A question I ask of you:
Where is the water of Kane?
Out there with the floating Sun,
[Page 259] 10 Where cloud-forms rest on Ocean’s breast, Uplifting their forms at Nihoa, This side the base of Lehua; There is the water of Kane.
One question I put to you:
15 Where is the water of Kane?
Yonder on mountain peak,
On the ridges steep,
In the valleys deep,
Where the rivers sweep;
20 There is the water of Kane.
This question I ask of you:
Where, pray, is the water of Kane?
Yonder, at sea, on the ocean,
In the driving rain,
25 In the heavenly bow,
In the piled-up mist-wraith,
In the blood-red rainfall,
In the ghost-pale cloud-form;
There is the water of Kane.
30 One question I put to you:
Where, where is the water of Kane?
Up on high is the water of Kane,
In the heavenly blue,
In the black piled cloud,
35 In the black-black cloud,
In the black-mottled sacred cloud of the gods;
There is the water of Kane.
One question I ask of you:
Where flows the water of Kane?
10 Deep in the ground, in the gushing spring,
In the ducts of Kane and Loa,
A well-spring of water, to quaff,
A water of magic power—
The water of life!
45 Life! O give us this life!
[Page 260]
XLII.—GENERAL REVIEW
In this preliminary excursion into the wilderness of Hawaiian
literature we have covered but a small part of the field; we
have reached no definite boundaries; followed no stream to
its fountain head; gained no high point of vantage, from
which to survey the whole. It was indeed outside the purpose
of this book to make a delimitation of the whole field of
Hawaiian literature and to mark out its relations to the
formulated thoughts of the world.
Certain provisional conclusions, however, are clearly
indicated: that this unwritten speech-literature is but a
peninsula, a semidetached, outlying division of the
Polynesian, with which it has much in common, the whole
running back through the same lines of ancestry to the people
of Asia. There still lurk in the subliminal consciousness of
the race, as it were, vague memories of things that long ago
passed from sight and knowledge. Such, for instance, was the
*mo’o*; a word that to the Hawaiian meant a nondescript
reptile, which his imagination vaguely pictured, sometimes as
a dragonlike monster belching fire like a chimera of
mythology, or swimming the ocean like a sea-serpent, or
multiplied into a manifold pestilential swarm infesting the
wilderness, conceived of as gifted with superhuman powers and
always as the malignant foe of mankind. Now the only Hawaiian
representatives of the reptilian class were two species of
harmless lizards, so that it is not conceivable that the
Hawaiian notion of a mo’o was derived from objects present in
his island home. The word *mo’o* may have been a coinage of
the Hawaiian speechcenter, but the thing it stood for must
have been an actual existence, like the python and cobra of
India, or the pterodactyl of a past geologic period. May we
not think of it as an ancestral memory, an impress, of
Asiatic sights and experiences?
In this connection, it will not, perhaps, lead us too far
afield, to remark that in the Hawaiian speech we find the
chisel-marks of Hindu and of Aryan scoring deep-graven. For
instance, the Hawaiian, word *pali*, cliff or precipice, is
the very word that Young-husband—following, no doubt, the
native speech of the region, the Pamirs—applies to the
mountain-walls that buttress off Tibet and the central
plateaus of Asia from northern India. Again the Hawaiian word
*mele*, which we have used so often in these chapters as to
make it seem almost like a household word, corresponds in
form, in sound, and in meaning to the Greek. [Greek: melos:
[Page 261] ta melê], lyric poetry (Liddell and Scott). Again, take the Hawaiian word i’a, fish—Maori, ika; Malay, ikan; Java, iwa; Bouton, ikani (Edward Tregear: The Maori-Polynesian Comparative Dictionary). Do not these words form a chain that links the Hawaiian form to the [Greek: ichthus] of classic Greece? The subject is fascinating, but it would soon lead us astray. These examples must suffice.
If we can not give a full account of the tangled woodland of
Hawaiian literature, it is something to be able to report on
its fruits and the manner of men and beasts that dwelt
therein. Are its fruits good for food, or does the land we
have explored bring forth only poisonous reptiles and the
deadly upas? Is it a land in which the very principles of art
and of human nature are turned upside down? Its language the
babble of Bander-log?
This excursion into the jungle of Hawaiian literature should
at least impress us with the oneness of humanity; that its
roots and springs of action, and ours, draw their sustenance
from one and the same primeval mold; that, however far back
one may travel, he will never come to a point where he can
say this is “common or unclean;” so that he may without
defilement “kill and eat” of what the jungle provides. The
wonder is that they in Hawaii of the centuries past, shut off
by vast spaces of sea and land from our world, yet
accomplished so much.
Test the ancient Hawaiians by our own weights and measures.
The result will not be to their discredit. In practical
science, in domestic arts, in religion, in morals, in the raw
material of literature, even in the finished article—though
unwritten—the showing would not be such as to give the
superior race cause for self-gratulation.
Another lesson—a corollary to the above—is the debt of
recognition we owe to the virtues and essential qualities of
untutored human nature itself. Imagine a portion of our own
race cut off from the thought-currents of the great world and
stranded on the island-specks of the great ocean, as the
Polynesians have been for a period of centuries that would
count back to the times of William the Conqueror or
Charlemagne, with only such outfit of the world’s goods as
might survive a 3,000–mile voyage in frail canoes, reenforced
by such flotsam of the world’s metallic stores as the tides
of ocean might chance to bring them—and, with such limited
capital to start with in life, what, should we judge, would
have been the outcome of the experiment in religion, in
morals, in art, in mechanics, in civilization, or in the
production of materials for literature, as compared with what
the white man found in Hawaii at its discovery in the last
quarter of the eighteenth century?
It were well to come to the study of primitive and savage
people, of nature-folk, with a mind purged of the
thanks-to-the-goodness-and-the-grace spirit.
[Page 262] It will not do for us to brush aside contemptuously the notions held by the Hawaiians in religion, cosmogony, and mythology as mere heathen superstitions. If they were heathen, there was nothing else for them to be. But even the heathen can claim the right to be judged by their deeds, not by their creeds. Measured by this standard, the average heathen would not make a bad showing in comparison with the average denizen of Christian lands. As to beliefs, how much more defensible were the superstitions of our own race two or three centuries ago, or of to-day, than those of the Hawaiians? How much less absurd and illogical were our notions of cosmogony, of natural history; how much less beneficent, humane, lovable the theology of the pagan Hawaiians than of our Christian ancestors a few centuries ago if looked at from an ethical or practical point of view. At the worst, the Hawaiian sacrificed the enemy he took in battle on the altar of his gods; the Christian put to death with exquisite torture those who disagreed with him in points of doctrine. And when it comes to morals, have not the heathen time and again demonstrated their ability to give lessons in self-restraint to their Christian invaders?
It is a matter of no small importance in the rating of a
people to take account of their disposition toward nature. If
there has been a failure to appreciate truly the mental
attitude of the “savage,” and especially of the Polynesian
savage, the Hawaiian, toward the book of truth that was open
to him in nature, it is always in order to correct it. That
such a mistake has been made needs no further proof than the
perusal of the following passage in a book entitled “History
of the Sandwich Islands:”
To the heathen the book of nature is a sealed book. Where
the word of God is not, the works of God fail either to
excite admiration or to impart instruction. The Sandwich
Islands present some of the sublimest scenery on earth,
but to an ignorant native—to the great mass of the people
in entire heathenism—it has no meaning. As one crested
billow after another of the heaving ocean rolls in and
dashes upon the unyielding rocks of an iron-bound coast,
which seems to say, “Hitherto shalt thou come and no
farther,” the low-minded heathen is merely thinking of the
shellfish on the shore. As he looks up to the everlasting
mountains, girt with clouds and capped with snow, he
betrays no emotion. As he climbs a towering cliff, looks
down a yawning precipice, or abroad upon a forest of deep
ravines, immense rocks, and spiral mountains thrown
together in the utmost wildness and confusion by the might
of God’s volcanoes, he is only thinking of some roots in
the wilderness that may be good for food.
There is hardly a poem in this volume that does not show the
utter falsity of this view. The writer of the words quoted
above, now in his grave for more than sixty years, was a man
for whose purity and moral character one must entertain the
highest esteem. He enjoyed the very best opportunity to study
the minds of the “heathen” about him, to discern their
[Page 263] thoughts, to learn at first hand their emotions toward the natural world, whether of admiration, awe, reverence, or whether their attitude was that of blank indifference and absorption in selfish things. But he utterly failed to penetrate the mystery, the “truth and poetry,” of the Hawaiian mind and heart. Was it because he was tied to a false theology and a false theory of human nature? We are not called upon to answer this question. Let others say what was wrong in his standpoint. The object of this book is not controversial; but when a palpable injustice has been done, and is persisted in by people of the purest motives, as to the thoughts, emotions, and mental operations of the “savage,” and as to the finer workings within that constitute the furniture and sanctuary of heart and soul, it is imperative to correct so grave a mistake; and we may be sure that he whose words have just been quoted, were he living to-day, would acknowledge his error.
Though it is not the purpose of these pages to set forth in
order a treatise on the human nature of the “savage,” or to
make unneeded apology for the primitive and uncultured races
of mankind in general, or for the Hawaiian in particular, yet
it is no small satisfaction to be able to set in array
evidence from the life and thoughts of the savages themselves
that shall at least have a modifying influence upon our views
on these points.
The poetry of ancient Hawaii evinces a deep and genuine love
of nature, and a minute, affectionate, and untiring
observation of her moods, which it would be hard to find
surpassed in any literature. Her poets never tired of
depicting nature; sometimes, indeed, their art seems
heaven-born. The mystery, beauty, and magnificence of the
island world appealed profoundly to their souls; in them the
ancient Hawaiian found the image of man the embodiment of
Deity; and their myriad moods and phases were for him an
inexhaustible spring of joy, refreshment, and delight.
GLOSSARY
The study of Hawaiian pronunciation is mainly a study of vowel sounds and of accent. Each written vowel represents at least two related sounds.
A (ah) has the Italian sound found in father, as in ha-le or in La-ka; also a short sound like that of a in liable, as in ke-a-ke-a, to contradict, or in a-ha, an assembly.
E (a) has the sound of long a in fate, or of e in prey, without the i-glide that follows, as in the first syllable of Pé-le, or of mé-a, a thing; also the short sound of e in net, as in é-ha, hurt, or in péa, a sail.
I (ee) has the long sound of i in pique, or in police, as in i-li, skin, or in hí-la-hí-la, shame; also the short sound of i in hill, as in lí-hi, border, and in í-ki, small.
O (oh) has the long sound of o in note or in old, without the u-glide, as in ló-a, long, or as in the first syllable of Ló-no; also a short sound, which approximates to that sometimes erroneously given to the vowel in coat, as in pó-po, rotten, or as in ló-ko, a lake.
U (oo) has the long sound of u in rule, as in hú-la, to dance; and a short sound approximating to that of u in full, as in mú-ku, cut off.
Every Hawaiian syllable ends in a vowel. No attempt has been made to indicate these differences of vowel sound. The only diacritical marks here employed are the acute accent for stressed syllables and the apostrophe between two vowels to indicate the glottic closure or interruption of sound (improperly sometimes called a guttural) that prevents the two from coalescing.
In the seven diphthongs ae, ai, ao, au, ei, ia, and ua a delicate ear will not fail to detect a coalescence of at least two sounds, thus proving them not to be mere digraphs.
In animated description or pathetic narrative, or in the effort to convey the idea of length, or height, or depth, or immensity, the Hawaiian had a way of prolonging the vowel sounds of a word, as if by so doing he could intimate the amplitude of his thought.
The letter w (way) represents two sounds, corresponding to our w and our v. At the beginning of a word it has the sound of w (way), retaining this even when the word has become compounded. This is illustrated in Wái-a-lú-a (geographical name), and wá-ha mouth. In the middle of a word, or after the first syllable, it almost always has the sound of v (vay), as in hé-wa (wrong), and in E-wá (geographical name). In há-wa-wá (awkward), the compound word ha-wái (water-pipe), and several others the w takes the way sound.
The great majority of Hawaiian words are accented on the penult, and in simple words of four or more syllables there is, as a rule, an accent on the fourth and on the sixth syllables, counting back from the final syllable, as in lá-na-kí-la (victorious) and as in hó-o-kó-lo-kó-lo (to try at law).
Aha, (á-ha)—a braided cord of sinet; an assembly; a prayer or religious service (note a, p. 20).
Ahaaina (á-ha-ái-na)—a feast.
Ai (ai, as in aisle)—vegetable food; to eat; an event in a game or contest (p. 93).
Ai-á-lo (to eat in the presence of)—the persons privileged to eat at an alii’s table.
Aiha’a (ai-ha’a):—a strained, bombastic, guttural tone of voice in reciting a mele, in contrast to the style termed ko’i-honua (pp. 89, 90).
Ailolo (ai-ló-lo=to eat brains)—a critical, ceremonial sacrifice, the conditions of which must be met before a novitiate can be admitted as a practitioner of the hula as well as of other skilled professions (pp. 15, 31, 34).
Aina (aí-na)—the land; a meal (of food).
Alii (a-li’i)—a chief; a person of rank; a king.
Aloha (a-ló-ha)—goodwill; affection; love; a word of salutation.
Ami (á-mi)—to bend; a bodily motion used in the hula (note, p. 202).
Anuenue (a-nú-e-nú-e)—a rainbow; a waterfall in Hilo (p. 61, verse 13).
Ao (á-o)—dawn; daytime; the world; a cloud (p. 196, verse 7).
Aumakua (aú-ma-kú-a)—an ancestral god (p. 23).
Awa (á-va)—bitter; sour; the soporific root of the Piper methysticum (p. 130).
Ekaha (e-káha)—the nidus fern, by the Hawaiians sometimes called ka hoe a Mawi, Mawi’s paddle, from the shape of its leaves (p. 19).
Haena (Ha-é-na)—a village on the windward coast of Kauai, the home of Lohiau, for whom Pele conceived a passion in her dreams (p. 186).
Hala (há-la)—a sin; a variety of the “screw-pine” (Pandanus odoratissimus, Hillebrand). Its drupe was used in decoration, its leaves were braided into mats, hats, bags, etc.
Halapepe (há-la-pé-pe)—a tree used in decorating the kuahu (Dracæna aurea, Hillebrand) (p. 24).
Halau (ha-láu—made of leaves)—a canoe-shed; a hall consecrated to the hula; a sort of school of manual arts or the art of combat (p. 14).
Hale (há-le)—a house.
Hanai-kuahu (ha-nái-ku-á-hu—altarfeeder)—the daily renewal of the offerings laid on the kuahu; the officer who performed this work (p. 29).
Hanohano (há-no-há-no)—having dignity and wealth.
Hau (how)—a tree whose light, tough wood, strong fibrous bark, and mucilaginous flowers have many uses (Hibiscus tiliaceus).
Haumea (Hau-mé-a)—a mythological character, the same as Papa (note c, p. 126).
Heiau (hei-aú)—a temple.
Hiiaka, (Hi’i-á-ka)—the youngest sister of Pele (p. 186).
Hilo (Hí-lo)—to twist as in making string; the first day in the month when the new moon appears; a town and district in Hawaii (pp. 60, 61).
Holoku (hó-lo-kú)—a loose gown resembling a “Mother Hubbard,” much worn by the women of Hawaii.
Hoonoa (ho’o-nó-a)—to remove a tabu; to make ceremonially free (p. 126).
Hooulu (ho’o-ú-lu)—to cause to grow; to inspire. (Verse 3, Pule Kuahu, p. 20, and verse 1, Pule Kuahu, p. 21.)
Hoopaa (ho’o-pá’a)—the members of a hula company who, as instrumentalists, remained stationary, not moving in the dance (p. 28).
Huikala (hú-i-ká-la)—to cleanse ceremonially; to pardon (p. 15).
Hula, (hú-la), or int. húlahúla—to dance, to make sport, to the accompaniment of music and song.
I’a (i’a)—fish; a general term for animal food or whatever relish serves for the time in its place.
Ieie (í-e-í-e)—a tall woody climber found in the wild woods, much used in decoration (Freycinetia arnotti, p. 19).
Ilamuka (í-la-mú-ku)—a constable.
Ilima (i-lí-ma)—a woody shrub (Sida fallax, Hillebrand) whose chrome-yellow flowers were much used in making wreaths (p. 56).
Ilio (i-lí-o)—a dog; a variety of hula (p. 223).
Imu (í-mu), sometimes umu (ú-mu)—a native oven, made by lining a hole in the ground and arching it over with stones (verse 3, Oli Paú, p. 51).
Inoa (i-nó-a)—a name. (See Mele inoa.)
Ipo (í-po)—a lover; a sweetheart.
Ipoipo (í-po-í-po), hoipo (ho-í-po), or hoipoipo (ho-í-po-í-po)—to make love; to play the lover; sexual dalliance.
Ipu (í-pu)—a general name for the Cucurbitaceæ, and the dishes made from them, as well as dishes of coconut shell, wood, and stone; the drumlike musical instrument made from joining two calabashes (p. 73).
Iwa (í-wa, pr. í-va)—the number nine; a large black sea-bird, probably a gull (p. 76).
Kahiki (Ka-hí-ki)—Tahiti; any foreign country (p. 17).
Kahiko (ka-hí-ko)—ancient; to array; to adorn.
Kahuna (ka-hú-na)—a priest; a skilled craftsman. Every sort of kahuna was at bottom and in some regard a priest, his special department being indicated by a qualifying word, as kahuna anaana, sorcerer, kahuna kalai wa’a, canoe-maker.
Kai (pr. kye)—the ocean; salty. I-kai, to the ocean; ma-kai, at the ocean.
Kakaolelo (ka-ká-o-lé-lo)—one skilled in language; a rhetorician; a councilor (p. 98).
Kamapua’a (Ká-ma-pu-a’a)—literally the hog-child; the mythological swine-god, whose story is connected with that of Pele (p. 231).
Kanaka, (ka-ná-ka)—a man; a commoner as opposed to the alii. Kanaka (ká-na-ka), men in general; the human race. (Notice the different accents.)
Kanaenae (ká-nae-naé)—a propitiatory sacrifice; an intercession; a part of a prayer (pp. 16, 20).
Kanaloa (Ká-na-ló-a)—one of the four major gods, represented as of a dark complexion, and of a malignant disposition (p. 24).
Kane (Ká-ne)—male; a husband; one of the four major gods, represented as being a tall blond and of a benevolent disposition (p. 24).
Kapa (ká-pa)—the paper-cloth of the Polynesians, made from the fibrous bark of many plants by pounding with wooden beaters while kept moist.
Kapo (Ká-po)—a goddess and patron of the hula, sister of the poison-god, Kalai-pahoa, and said to be mother of Laka (pp. 25, 45).
Kapu (ká-pu).—a tabu; a religious prohibition (pp. 30, 57).
Kau (Ka-ú)—“the milk;” a district on the island of Hawaii.
Kawele (ka-wé-le)—a manner of cantillating in a distinct and natural tone of voice; about the same as ko’i-honua (p. 58).
Kihei (ki-héi)—a robe of kapa worn after the fashion of the Roman toga.
Kii (ki’i)—to fetch, to go after a thing; an image, a picture, a marionette; a variety of the hula (p. 91).
Kilauea (Ki-lau-é-a)—the great active volcano of Hawaii.
Kini (kí-ni)—the number 40,000; a countless number. Kini Akua, a host of active, often mischievous, “little” folk in human form that peopled the deep woods. They resembled our elves and brownies, and were esteemed as having godlike powers (p. 21, note; p. 24).
Kilu (kí-lu)—a dish made by cutting off obliquely the top of a coconut or small gourd, which was used as a sort of top in the game and dance called kilu. (Hula kilu, p. 235.)
Ko—sugar-cane; performed, accomplished. With the causative prefix ho’o, as in ho’oko (ho’o-kó), to accomplish, to carry to success (p. 30).
Ko’i (kó’i)—an ax, an adz; originally a stone implement. (See mele beginning Ko’i maka nui, p. 228.)
Ko’i honua (ko’i ho-nú-a)—a compound of the causative ko, i, to utter, and honua, the earth; to recite or cantillate in a quiet distinct tone, in distinction from the stilted bombastic manner termed ai-ha’a (p. 58).
Kokua-kumu, (ko-kú-a-kú-mu)—the assistant or deputy who took charge of the halau in the absence of the kumu-hula, (p. 29).
Kolea (ko-lé-a)—the plover; the name of a hula (p. 219).
Kolohe (ko-ló-he)—mischievous; restless; lawless (note d, p. 194).
Kona, (Kóna)—a southerly wind or storm; a district on the leeward side of many of the islands.
Koolau (Ko’o-láu)—leaf-compeller; the windward side of an island; the name of a wind. (A Koolau wau, ike i ka ua, verse 1, p. 59.)
Ku—to stand; to rise up; to fit; a division of land; one of the four major gods who had many functions, such as Ku-pulupulu, Ku-mokuhalii, Ku-kaili-moku, etc. (Mele, Ku e, nana e! p. 223.)
Kuahu (ku-á-hu)—an altar; a rustic stand constructed in the halau in honor of the hula gods (p. 15).
Kuhai-moana (Ku-hái-mo-á-na)—a shark-god (pp. 76, 77).
Ku’i (ku’i)—to smite; to beat; the name of a hula (p. 250).
Kukui (ku-kú-i)—a tree (Aleurites moluccana) from the nuts of which were made torches; a torch. (Mahana lua na kukui a Lanikaula, p. 130, note c.)
Kumu-hula (kú-mu húla)—a teacher and leader of the hula.
Kupee (ku-pe’e)—a bracelet; an anklet (Mele Kupe’e, p. 49.)
Kupua (ku-pú-a)—a superhuman being; a wonder-worker; a wizard.
Ku-pulupulu (Kú-pú-lu-pú-lú)—Ku the hairy; one of the forms of god Ku, propitiated by canoe-makers and hula folk (p. 24).
Laa (Lá’a)—consecrated; holy; devoted.
Laa-mai-Kahiki—A prince who flourished some six or seven centuries ago and voyaged to Kahiki and back. He was an ardent patron of the hula (p. 103).
Lama (lá-ma)—a torch; a beautiful tree (Maba sandwicensis, Hillebrand) having fine-grained whitish wood that was much used for sacred purposes (p. 23).
Lanai (la-nái)—a shed or veranda; an open part of a house covered only by a roof.
Lanai (La-na’i)—the small island lying southwest of Maui.
Lani (lá-ni)—the sky; the heaven or the heavens; a prince or king; heaven-born (pp. 81, 82).
Lehua, (le-hú-a)—a forest tree (Metrosideros polymorpha) whose beautiful scarlet or salmon-colored flowers were much used in decoration (Pule Hoo-noa, p. 126).
Lei (lei: both vowels are sounded, the i slightly)—a wreath of flowers, of leaves, feathers, beads, or shells (p. 56).
Liloa (Li-ló-a)—an ancient king of Hawaii, the father of Umi (p. 131).
Lohiau (Ló-hi-áu)—the prince of Haena, with whom Pele became enamored in her dreams (p. 186).
Lolo (ló-lo)—the brain (p. 34).
Lono (Ló-no)—one of the four major gods of Hawaii (p. 24).
Luau (lu-aú)—greens made by cooking young taro leaves; in modern times a term applied to a Hawaiian feast.
Mahele (ma-hé-le)—to divide; a division of a mele; a canto; a part of a song-service (p. 58).
Mahiole (má-hi-ó-le)—a helmet or war-cap, a style of hair-cutting in imitation of the same (p. 91).
Mahuna (ma-hú-na)—a small particle; a fine scale; a variety of delicate kapa; the desquamation of the skin resulting from habitual awa-drinking.
Makalii (Má-ka-li’i)—small eyes; small, fine; the Pleiades (p. 216 and note on p. 218).
Malo (má-lo)—a loin-cloth worn especially by men. (Verses 3, 4, 5, 6 of mele on p. 36).
Mano (ma-nó)—a shark; a variety of hula (p. 221).
Mauna (máu-na)—a mountain. A word possibly of Spanish origin.
Mele (mé-le)—a poem; a song; to chant; to sing.
Mele inoa—a name-song; a eulogy (pp. 27, 37).
Mele kahea (ka-héa = to call)—a password by which one gained admission to the halau (pp. 38, 41).
Moo (mó’o)—a reptile; a dragon; a mythologic monster (p. 260).
Muumuu (mu’u-mu’u)—an under garment worn by women; a shift; a chemise; a person maimed of hand or foot; the name of a hula (p. 212).
Naulu (náu-lu)—name of the seabreeze at Waimea, Kauai. Ua naulu = a heavy local rain (pp. 110, 112).
Noa (nó-a)—ceremonially free; unrestrained by tabu (p. 126).
Noni (no-ni)—a dye-plant (Morinda citrifolia) whose fruit was sometimes eaten.
Nuuanu (Nu’u-á-nu) a valley back of Honolulu that leads to the “Pali.”
Ohe (ó-he)—bamboo; a flute; a variety of the hula (pp. 135, 145).
Ohelo (o-hé-lo)—an edible berry that grows at high altitudes; to reach out; to stretch; a variety of the hula (p. 233).
Ohia (o-hi’a)—a name in some places applied to the lehua (q. v.), more generally the name of a fruit tree, the “mountain apple” (Eugenia malaccensis).
Olapa (o-lá-pa)—those members of a hula company who moved in the dance, as distinguished from the hoopaa, q. v., who sat and cantillated or played on some instrument (p. 28).
Oli (ó-li)—a song; a lyric; to sing or chant (p. 254).
Olioli—Joyful.
Olohe (o-ló-he)—an expert in the hula; one who has passed the ailolo test and has also had much experience (p. 32).
Oo (o-ó)—a spade; an agricultural implement, patterned after the whale spade (p. 85); a blackbird, one of those that furnished the golden-yellow feathers for the ahuula, or feather cloak.
Paepae (pae-páe)—a prop; a support; the assistant to the po’o-pua’a (p. 29).
Pahu (pá-hu)—a box; a drum; a landmark; to thrust, said of a spear (pp. 103, 138).
Pale (pá-le)—a division; a canto of a mele; a division of the song service in a hula performance (pp. 58, 89).
Pali (pá-li)—a precipice; a mountain wall cut up with steep ravines. (Mele on pp. 51–53, verses 4, 5, 8, 16, 17, 27, 49.)
Papa (pá-pa)—a board; the plane of the earth’s surface; a mythological character, the wife of Wakea.
Pa-u (pa-ú)—a skirt; a garment worn by women reaching from the waist to about the knees (p. 50). The dress of the hula performer (p. 49), Oli Pa-ú (p. 51).
Pele (Pé-le)—the goddess of the volcano and of volcanoes generally, who held court at the crater of Kilauea, on Hawaii; a variety of the hula (p. 186).
Pikai (pi-kái)—to asperse with seawater mixed, perhaps, with turmeric, etc., as in ceremonial cleansing (p. 31).
Poo-puaa (po’o-pu-a’a)—Boar’s head; the one selected by the pupils in a school of the hula to be their agent and mouthpiece (p. 29).
Pua’a (pu-a’a)—a pig; the name of a hula (p. 228).
Puka (pú-ka)—a hole, a doorway, to pass through.
Pule (pú-le)—a prayer; an incantation; to pray.
Pulou (pu-lo’u)—to muffle; to cover the head and face (p. 31).
Puniu (pu-ní-u)—a coconut shell; a small drum made from the coconut shell (p. 141); a derisive epithet for the human headpiece.
Ti, or ki—a plant (Dracæna terminalis) that has large smooth green leaves used for wrapping food and in decoration. Its fleshy root becomes syrupy when cooked (p. 44).
Uka (ú-ka)—landward or mountainward.
Uku-lele (ú-ku-lé-le)—a flea; a sort of guitar introduced by the Portuguese.
Uniki (u-ní-ki)—the début or the first public performance of a hula actor. (Verse 21 of mele on p. 17.)
Waa (wá’a)—a canoe.
Wahine (wa-hí-ne)—a female; a woman; a wife.
Wai—water.
Waialeale (Wai-á-le-á-le)—billowy water; the central mountain on the island of Kauai (p. 106).
INDEX
[NOTE.—All Hawaiian words, as such (except catch words), are italicized.]
AALA KUPUKUPU: *mele kupe’e* 49
A EULOGY for the princess: song for the *hula ku’i Molokai* 209
A HAMAKUA AU: *mele* for the *hula kaekeeke* 122
A HILO *au, e*: *mele* for the *hula pa’i-umauma* 203
AIA I *Wai-pi’o Paka’alana*: old *mele* set to music VIII 162
AI-HA’A, a style of recitation 58
AILOLO OFFERING, at graduation from the school of the *halau* 32
eating of 34
inspection of 33
A KAUAI, *a ke olewa iluna*: *mele* for the *hula Pele* 189
A KE KUAHIWI: a *kanaenae* to Laka 16
A KOA’E-KEA: *mele* for the *hula ala’a-papa* 67
A KOOLAU WAU: *mele* for the *hula ala’a-papa* 59
A LALO *maua o Waipi’o*: *mele* for the *hula íliíli* 120
ALAS, alas, maimed are my hands! lament of Mana-mana-ia-kaluea
212
ALAS, I am seized by the shark: song for the *hula manó* 222
ALAS, there’s no stay to the smoke! song for the *hula Pele* 195
ALOHA *na hale o makou: mele komo*, welcome to the *halau* 39
ALOHA *wale oe*: song with music IX 164
ALTAR-PRAYER—
at *ailolo* inspection: Laka sits in her shady grove 34
at *ailolo* service: O goddess Laka! 34
in prose speech: *E ola ia’u, i ka malihini* 46
Invoke we now the four thousand 22
Thou art Laka 42
to Kane and Kapo: Now Kane, approach 45
to Laka: Here am I, O Laka from the mountains 20
to Laka: This my wish 43
to Laka: This spoil and rape of the wildwood 19
ALTAR, visible abode of the deity 15
A MACKEREL SKY, time for foul weather: song for the _hula
ala’a-papa_ 70
AMI, not a motion of lewd intent 210
AMUSEMENTS in Hawaii communal 13
ANKLET SONG: Fragrant the grasses 49
AOLE AU E HELE *ka li’u-la o Maná*: *mele* for the *hula pa-ipu*
79
AOLE E MAO *ka ohu*: *mele* for the *hula Pele* 195
AOLE I MANAO IA: *mele* for the *hula úli-ulí* 108
A PILI, *a pili*: *mele* for the *hula hoonaná* 244
A PIT LIES (far) to the East: song for the *hula pa-ipu* 86
A PLOVER at the full of the sea: song for the *hula kolea* 220
A PUA *ka wiliwili*: a bit of folk-lore (note) 221
A PUNA AU: *mele* for the *hula pahu* 104
A SEARCH for a sweetheart: song for the *hula ulili* 247
ASPERSION in ceremonial purification 15
ASSONANCE by word-repetition 227
A STORM from the sea: song for the *hula pa-ipu* 78
AT HILO I rendezvoused with the *lehua*: song for the _hula
pa’i-umauma_ 203
ATTITUDE of the Hawaiian toward—
nature 262
song 159
the gods 225
AT WAILUA stands the main house-post: song for the *hula Pele*
192
AUHEA *wale oe, e ka Makani Inu-wai*? *mele* for the _hula
úli-ulí_ 110
AUWE, *auwe, mo’ ku’u lima*! lament of Mana-mana-ia-kaluea 212
AUWE, *pau au i ka manó nui, e*! *mele* for the *hula manó* 221
A ÚWEUWÉ *ke ko’e a ke kae*: *mele oli* in the game of *kilu* 240
AWA DEBAUCH of Kane 131
AWILIWILI *i ka hale o ka lauwili, e*: a proverbial saying
(note) 53
AX OF BROADEST EDGE I’m hight: song for the *hula pua’a* 230
BAMBOO RATTLE, the *puili* 144
BEDECK now the board for the feast: song-prayer for the
*hula Pele* 200
BEGOTTEN were the gods of graded rank: song of cosmology
(note) 196
BEHOLD KAUNÁ, that sprite of windy Ka-ú: song for the
*hula Pele* 193
BIG WITH CHILD is the princess Ku: song for the *hula pa-ipu* 81
BIT OF FOLK-LORE: *A pua ka wiliwili* (note) 221
When flowers the *wiliwili* (note) 221
BLACK CRABS are climbing: song for the *hula mu’umu’u* 214
BLOOM OF LEHUA on altar piled: prayer to remove tabu at
intermission 127
BLOW, BLOW, thou wind of Hilo! old sea song (note) 65
BURST OF SMOKE from the pit: song for the *hula pa-ipu* 89
CADENCE IN MUSIC 140
CALABASH HULAS 102
CALL TO THE MAN to come in: song of welcome to the *halau* 41
CASTANETS 147
CEREMONIAL CLEANSING in the *halau* 30
CIPHER SPEECH 97
CLOTHING OR COVERING, illustrated by gesture 178
COCONUT DRUM, *puniu* 141
COME NOW, MANONO: song for the *hula pa’i-umauma* 204
COME UP to the wildwood, come: song for the *hula ohe* 136
COMRADE MINE in the robe-stripping gusts of Lalau: song for
the *hula kilu* 241
CONVENTIONAL GESTURES 180, 182
COSTUME of the *hula* dancer 49
COURT OF THE ALII the recruiting ground for *hula* performers 27
CULTS of the *hula* folk—were there two? 47
DANCE, a premeditated affair in Hawaii 13
DAVID MALO, *hulas* mentioned by 107
DEATH, represented by gesture 178
DÉBUT of a *hula* performer 35
DÉBUT-SONG of a *hula* performer: _Ka nalu nui, a ku ka nalu
mai Kona_ 35
DECORATIONS of the *kuahu*—the choice limited 19
DISMISSING PRAYER at intermission: Doomed sacrifice I 129
DISPENSATION granted to pupils before graduation from the
*halau* 33
DIVISIONS of *mele* recitation in the *hula* 58
DOOMED SACRIFICE I: dismissing prayer at intermission 129
DRESSING SONG of *hula* girls: *Ku ka punohu ula* 55
DRUM—
description of 140
introduced by La’a-mai-Kahiki 141
DRUM HULA, the 103
E ALA, *e Kahiki-ku*: *mele* for the *hula Pele* 196
E HEA *i ke kanáka e komo maloko (mele komo)*: welcome to
the *halau* 41
E HOOPONO *ka hele*: *mele* apropos of Nihi-aumoe 94
E HOOULU *ana i Kini o ke Akua*: altar-prayer 21
EIA KE KUKO, *ka li’a*: altar-prayer, to Laka 43
EI’AU, *e Laka mai uka*: altar-prayer 20
E IHO *ana oluna*: oracular utterance of Kapihe 99
E KAUKAU *i hale manu, e*: *mele* for the *hula ki’i* 99
E LAKA, E! *mele kuahu* at *aiolo* service 34
E LE’E KAUKAU: *mele* for the hula *ki’i* 98
ELEELE KAUKAU: *mele* for the *hula ki’i* 97
ELLIS, REV. WILLIAM—
his description of the “*hura ka-raau*” 116
his remarks about the “*hura araapapa*” 71
ELOCUTION and rhythmic accent in Hawaiian song 158
E MANONO *la, ea*: *mele* for the *hula pa’i-umauma* 204
ENGULFED in heaven’s abyss: song for the *hula kilu* 243
E OE MAUNA *i ka ohu*: *mele* for the *hula Pele* 194
E OLA IA’U, *i ka malihini*: altar-prayer, in prose speech 46
E PI’I *ka nahele*: *mele* for the *hula ohe* 135
E PI’I *ka-wai ka nahele*: *mele* for the *hula niau-kani* 133
EPITHALAMIUM, *mele* for the _hula ki’i: O Wanahili ka po loa
ia Manu’a_ 100
E ULU, *e ulu*: altar-prayer to the *Kini Akua* 46
EWA’S LAGOON is red with dirt: song for the *hula pa-ipu* 84
E WEWEHI, *ke, ke*! *mele* for the *hula ki’i* 94
FABLE, Hawaiian love of 111
FACIAL EXPRESSION 179
FAME TRUMPETS your conquests each day: song for the
*hula ku’i* 253
FEET AND LEGS in gesture 181
FISH-TREE, *Maka-léi* (note) 17
FLOWERS acceptable for decoration 19
FLUCTUATING UTTERANCE in song, *i’i* 158
FOLK-LORE, application of the term 114
FOREIGN INFLUENCE on Hawaiian music 138, 163
FRAGRANT THE GRASSES of high Kane-hoa: anklet song 49
FROM KAHIKI came the woman, Pele: song for the *hula Pele* 188
FROM MOUNTAIN RETREAT—
song for the *hula ala’a-papa* 64
with music VII 157
GAME OF KILU 235
GAME OF NA-Ú (note) 118
GENERAL REVIEW 260
GESTURE—
illustrating an obstacle 177
illustrating movement 178
influenced by convention 180
inviting to come in 179
mimetic 178
representing a plain 178
representing clothing or covering 178
representing death 178
representing union or similarity 178
taught by the *kumu-hula* 176
with feet and legs 181
GIRD ON THE PA-Ú: tiring song 54
GLOSSARY 266
GLOWING is Kahiki, oh! song for the *hula pa-ipu* 75
GOD—
of health, Mauli-ola (note) 198
of mirage, Lima-loa (note) 79
GODS, attitude of the Hawaiian toward the 225
GODS of the *hula* 23
GOURD DRUM, *ipu-hula* 142
GOURD-RATTLE, *úli-ulí* 144
GRADUATION from the *halau*—
*ailolo* sacrament 32, 34
ceremonies of 31
tabu-lifting prayer: Oh wildwood bouquet, oh Laka 32
HAKI *pu o ka nahelehele*: altar-prayer to Laka 18
HAKU’I *ka uahi o ka lua: mele* for the *hula pa-ipu* 88
HALAU—
a school for the *hula* 30
ceremonies of graduation from 31
decorum required in 30
description of 14
its worship contrasted with that of the *heiau* 15
passwords to 38
purification of its site 14
rules of conduct while it is abuilding 15
worship in 42
HALAU HANALEI *i ka nini a ka ua*: an *oli* 155
HALE-MA’UMA’U (note) 229
HALL for the *hula*. See *Halau*.
HANALEI is a hall for the dance in the pouring rain: a song 155
HANAU *ke apapa nu’u*: song of cosmology (note) 196
HAUNT of white tropic bird: song for the *hula ala’a-papa* 67
HAWAIIAN HARP, the *ukeké* 147
HAWAIIAN love of fable 111
HAWAIIAN MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS 138
HAWAIIAN MUSIC displaced by foreign 138
HAWAIIAN SLANG 98
HAWAIIAN SONG—
elocution and rhythmic accent 158
characteristics 170
melody; rhythm 171
tone-intervals 158
HAWAIIAN SPEECH, music affected by peculiarities of 139
HAWAII PONOI (national hymn) with music XIV 172
HAWAII’S VERY OWN: translation of national hymn 175
HE ALA *kai olohia: mele* for the *hula ku’i Molokai* 207
HEAVEN MAGIC fetch a Hilo pour: song for the _hula
ala’a-papa_ 66
HE INOA *no ka Lani: mele* for the *hula ku’i Molokai* 208
HE INOA *no Kamehameha*: song set to music VIII 162
HE LUA *i ka hikina: mele* for the *hula pa-ipu* 85
HERE AM I, O Laka from the mountains: altar-prayer to Laka 20
HE UA LA, *he ua: mele* for the *hula kolani* 216
HE Ú-I, *he ninau: mele* for Kane 257
HIIAKA—
her bathing place 190
in a *kilu* contest with Pele-ula 240
See Gods of the *hula*.
HIKI MAI, *hiki mai ka La, e! mele* for the *hula puili* 114
HI’U-O-LANI, *kii ka ua o Hilo: mele* for the _hula
ala’a-papa_ 65
HOAEAE EXPLAINED 163
HOE PUNA *i ka wa’a pololo a ka ino: mele* for the _hula
ala’a-papa_ 70
HOINAINAU *mea ipo: mele* for the *hula ala’a-papa* 71
HOLE WAIMEA *i ka ihe a ka makani: mele* for the _hula
ala’a-papa_ 68
HO! MOUNTAIN of vapor puffs: song for the *hula Pele* 194
HOOLEHELEHE-KI’I 91
HOOPA’A, a division of the *hula* performers 28, 57
HOOPONO OE, *he aina kai Waialua i ka hau: mele* for
*hula ala’a-papa* 60
HOW PLEASED is the girl maimed of hand and foot: song
of Hiiaka 212
HOW PLEASING, when borne by the tide: song for the
*hula ku’i* 252
HUAHUA’I: song with music X: *He aloha wau ia oe* 166
HULA—
degeneration of 14
intermission of 126
support and organization 26
HULA ALA’A-PAPA, THE—
a religious service 11, 57
company—organization of 29
dancer’s costume 49
democratic side of 26
remarks on, by Rev. W. Ellis 71
HULA HOONANÁ, THE 244
HULA ÍLI-ÍLI, THE 120
HULA ILIO, THE 223
HULA KAEKEEKE, THE 122
HULA KA-LAAU 116
its novel performance on Kauai 118
responsive chanting in 116
HULA KIELEI, THE 210
HULA KI’I, THE 91
HULA KILU, THE 235
HULA KOLANI, THE 216
HULA KOLEA, THE 219
HULA KOLILI, THE 246
HULA KU’I MOLOKAI, THE 207
HULA KU’I, THE 250
HULA KUÓLO, THE 73
HULA MANÓ, THE 221
HULA MU’UMU’U, THE 212
HULA NIAU-KANI, THE 132
HULA OHELO, THE 233
HULA OHE, THE 135
HULA O-NIU, THE 248
HULA PA-HUA, THE 183
HULA PAHU, THE 103
HULA PA-IPU, THE 73
HULA PA’I-UMAUMA, THE 202
HULA PALÁNI, THE (note) 202
HULA PELE, THE 186
HULA PERFORMANCE, influenced by instrument of accompaniment 113
HULA PERFORMERS—
classes 28, 57
début 35
physique 57
HULA PUA’A, THE 228
HULA PUILI, THE 113
HULAS—
calabash hulas 102
David Malo’s list of 107
first hula 8
gods of 23
of varying dignity and rank 57
See also *Hula* and names of various *hulas*.
HULA SONGS—their source 58
HULA ULILI, THE 246
HULA ÚLI-ULÍ, THE 107
“HURA KA RAAU,” description of, by Rev. William Ellis 116
I ALOHA *i ke ko a ka wai: mele* for the *hula ku’i* 251
I AM SMITTEN with spear of Kane: song for the *hula pa-hua* 184
IDYL, typical Hawaiian 217
I’I—
a fluctuating utterance in song 158
its vowel repetition 159
I KAMA’AMA’A *la i ka pualei: mele pule* for the *hula Pele* 199
IKE IA KAUKINI: *mele* to *Kaukini* (note) 51
IKE IA KAUNÁ-WAHINE, *Makani Ka-u: mele* for the *hula Pele* 193
ILIÍLI, castanets 147
ILL OMEN, words of, in *mele inoa* 37
IN PUNA WAS I: song for the *hula pahu* 105
INTERMISSION OF HULA 126
IN THE UPLANDS, the darting flame-bird of La’a: password to
the *halau* 41
INVITATION to come in, by gesture 179
INVOKE WE NOW the Four Thousand: altar-prayer 22
IN WAIPI’O stands Paka’alana: name-song of Kamehameha 163
IPU HULA, gourd drum 58, 142
treatment of, in *hula pa-ipu* and in *hula ala’a-papa* 73
I SPURN THE THOUGHT with disdain: song for the *hula úli-ulí* 109
IT HAS COME, it has come: song for the *hula puili* 114
IT WAS IN HAMAKUA: song for the *hula kaekeeke* 123
I WILL NOT CHASE the mirage of Maná: song for the
*hula pa-ipu*, 80
KAEKEEKE, musical bamboo pipe, 143
KAHEA *i ka mele*, 58
KAHIKI-NUI, *auwahi ka makani: mele* for the *hula kaekeeke*, 124
KAHIKI-NUI, land of wind-driven smoke: song for the _hula
kaekeeke_, 125
KAHIPA, *na waiu olewa: mele* for the *hula pa’i-umauma*, 205
KAHULI AKU, *kahuli mai: mele* apropos of the tree-shell, 121
KAKUA PA-Ú, *ahu na kiképa*: tiring song, 51
KALAKALAIHI, *kaha ka La ma ke kua o Lehua: mele* for the
*hula kilu*, 238
KALAKAUA, a great name: song for the *hula ka-laau*, 117
KALALAU, *pali eku i ka makani: mele* for the *hula ki’i*, 101
KA-LIU-WA’A (note), 230
KAMA-PUA’A, his relations with—
Kapo, 25
Pele, 231
KA MAWAE: song and music XI, 167
KAMEHAMEHA II, song composed by, 69
KA-MOHO-ALII (note), 229
KANAENAE TO LAKA: *A ke kuahiwi, i ke kualono*, 16
KANALOA. See Gods of the *hula*.
KANALOA TINTS HEAVEN with a blush: song for the *hula kilu*, 242
KA NALU NUI, *a ku ka nalu mai Kona*: name-song to Naihe, 35
KANE, HIKI A’E, *he maláma ia luna*: altar-prayer to Kane
and Kapo, 44
KANE is DRUNKEN with awa: song for interlude, 130
KANE’S AWA DEBAUCH, 131
KANE. See Gods of the *hula*.
KAPO—
parentage and relations to the *hula*, 47
relations with Kama-pua’a, 25
See Gods of the *hula*.
KAUAI, characteristics of its *hula*, 119
KAUHUA KU, *ka Lani, iloli ka moku: mele* for the
*hula pa-ipu*, 80
KAU KA HA-É-A, *kau o ka hana wa ele: mele* for the _hula
ala’a-papa_, 69
KA UKA HOLO-KIA *ahi-manu o La’a*: password to the *halau*, 41
KAULANA *mai nei Pua Lanakila: mele* for the *hula ku’i*, 252
KAULA WEARS the ocean as a wreath: wreath-song, 56
KAULA WREATHES her brow with the ocean: song of
Mana-mana-ia-kaluea, 213
KAU LILUA *i ke anu Wai-aleale: mele* for the *hula pahu*, 105
KAUÓ PU KA IWA *kala-pahe’e: mele* for the *hula pa-ipu*, 76
KA WAI *opua-makani o Wailua*: an *oli*, 255
KAWELO, a sorcerer who turned shark (note), 79
KEAAU is a long strip of wild wood: song for the
*hula ala’a-papa*, 62
KEAAU SHELTERS, Waiakea lies in the calm: song for the _hula
ala’a-papa_, 61
KE AMO *la ke ko’i ke Akua la i uka: mele* for the
*hula Pele*, 190
KEAWE—
a name of many personalities (note), 74
the red blush of dawn: old song (note), 74
KE LEI MAI *la o Kaula i ke kai, e-e!*—
*mele* of Mana-mana-ia-kaluea, 212
wreath-song, 56
KE POHÁ NEI; *u’ína la: mele* for the *hula o-niu* 248
KI’I-KI’I 91
KI’I NA KA IPO: *mele* for the *hula ulili* 246
KILELEI, THE HULA 210
KILU, a game and a *hula* 235
KILU-CONTEST of Hiiaka with Pele-ula 240
KING, CAPT. JAMES, on the music and dancing of the Hawaiians 149
KING’S WASH-TUBS 116
KINI AKUA, THE 24, 46
KO’I-HONUA, a style of recitation 58, 89
KO’I MAKA NUI: *mele oli* for the *hula pua’a* 228
KOLEA KAI PIHA: *mele* for the *hula kolea* 219
KONA KAI OPUA, *i kala i ka la’i: mele* for the _hula
ka-laau_ 117
KUAHU-SERVICE, not a rigid liturgy 21
KUAHU, THE 15, 32
KU AKU LA KEAAÚ, *lele ka makani mawaho: mele* for the
*hula pa-ipu* 77
KUA LOLOA *Keaáu i ka nahele: mele* for the *hula ala’a-papa* 62
KU, A MARIONETTE 91
KU E, NANÁ E! *mele* for the *hula ilio* 223
KU I WAILUA *ka pou hale: mele* for the *hula Pale* 191
KU KA MAKAIA *a ka huaka’i moe ípo*: dismissing prayer at
intermission 129
KU KA PUNOHU *ula i ka moana*: girl’s dressing song 55
KUKULU O KAHIKI (note) 17
KUMU-HULA, a position open to all 15
KUMUKAHI, myth (note) 197
KUNIHI KA MAUNA *i ka la’i, e: mele kahea*, password to
the *halau* 40
KU OE KO’U WAHI *ohelo nei la, auwe, auwe! mele* for the
*hula ohelo* 233
KU PILIKI’I *Hanalei lehua, la: mele* for the *hula kielei* 210
KU-PULUPULU. See Gods of the *hula*.
KU. See Gods of the *hula*.
KU’U HOA MAI *ka makani kuehu kapa o Kalalau: mele* for the
*hula kilu* 240
LA’A MAI-KAHIKI—
his connection with the *hula pahu* 103
introduces the drum, or *pahu hula* 141
LAAU, a xylophone 144
LAKA—
a block of wood her special symbol 20, 23
adulatory prayer to 18
a friend of the Pele family 24
*aumakua* of the *hula* 23
compared with the gods of classic Greece 24
emanation origin 48
epithets and appellations of 24
invoked as god of wildwood growths 24
special god of the *hula* 24
versus Kapo 47
wreathing her emblem 34
LAKA SITS in her shady grove: altar-prayer 34
LAMENT OF MANA-MANA-IA-KALUEA—
Alas, alas, maimed are my hands! 212
*Auwe, auwe, mo’ ku’u lima!* 212
LAU LEHUA *punoni ula ke kai o Kona: mele* for the _hula
pa-ipu_ 75
LEAF OF LEHUA and noni-tint, the Kona sea: song for the _hula
pa-ipu_ 76
LE’A WALE *hoi ka wahine lima-lima ole, wawae ole: mele* of
Hiiaka 212
LEHUA ILUNA: tabu-lifting prayer at intermission 126
LELE MAHU’I-LANI *a luna*: a tiring song 56
LET’S WORSHIP NOW the bird-cage: song for the *hula ki’i* 99
LIFT MAHU’I-LANI on high: tiring song 56
LIKE NO A LIKE: song with music XII 168
LIMA-LOA, god of mirage (note) 79
LITERALISM IN TRANSLATION versus fidelity 88
LITURGY OF KUAHU not rigid 21
LI’ULI’U ALOHA *ia’u mele kahea*: password to the *halau* 39
LONG, LONG have I tarried with love: password to the *halau* 39
LONO, cult of 18
See Gods of the *hula*.
LOOK FORTH, GOD KU, look forth: song for the *hula ilio* 225
LOOK NOW, WAIALUA, land clothed with ocean-mist: song for
the *hula ala’a-papa* 60
LOOK TO YOUR WAYS in upland Puna: song apropos of Nihi-aumoe 94
LO, PELE’S THE GOD of my choice: song prayer for the
*hula Pele* 199
LO, THE RAIN, the rain: song for the *hula kolani* 217
LOVE FAIN COMPELS to greet thee: song, “Cold breast,” with
music IX 165
LOVE IS AT PLAY in the grove: song for the *hula ala’a-papa* 71
LOVE TOUSLED WAIMEA with shafts of the wind: song for the
*hula ala’a-papa* 69
LYRIC OR OLI: The wind-beaten stream of Wailua 256
LYRIC UTTERANCE 254–256
MAHELE OR PALE, divisions of a song 58
MAI KAHIKI *ka wahine, o Pele: mele* for the *hula Pele* 187
MAILE-LAU-LI’I 91
MAILE-PAKAHA 91
MAKA-KU 91
MAKA-LÉI, a mythical fish-tree (note) 17
MAKALI’I, the Pleiades (note) 17
MALUA, fetch water of love: song for the *hula puili* 115
MALUA, *ki’i wai ke aloha: mele* for the *hula puili* 114
MAO WALE *i ka lani: mele* for the *hula kilu* 243
MARIONETTE HULA 91
MASKS NOT USED in the *halau* 179
MAULI-OLA, god of health (note) 198
MELES—
apropos of—
Kahuli, the tree-shell: *Kahuli aku, kahuli mai* 121
Keawe: *O Keawe ula-i-ka-lani* (note) 74
Nihi-aumoe: *E hoopono ka hele i ka uha o Puna* 94
at début of *hula* performer: _Ka nalu nui, a ku
ka nalu mai Kona_ 35
for interlude: *Ua ona o Kane i ka awa* 130
for Kane: *He ú-i, he nináu* 257
for the—
*hula ala’a-papa*—
*A Koa’e-kea, i Pueo-hulu-nui* 67
*A Koolau wau, ike i ka ua* 59
*Hi’u-o-lani, ki’i ka ua o Hilo* 65
*Hoe Puna i ka wa’a polólo* 70
*Ho-ina-inau mea ipo i ka nahele* 71
*Hole Waimea i ka ihe a ka makani* 68
*Hoopono oe, he aina kai Waialua i ka hau* 60
*Kau ka ha-é-a, kau o ka hana wa ele* 69
*Kua loloa Keaau i ka nahele* 62
*Noluna ka Hale-kai, no ka ma’a-lewa* 63
*Pakú Kea-au, lulu Wai-akea* 60
*hula hoonaná: A pili, a pili* 244
*hula íliíli: A lalo maua o Waipi’o* 120
*hula ilio: Ku e, naná e!* 223
*hula kaekeeke*—
*A Hamakua au* 122
*Kahiki-nui, auwahi ka makani* 124
*hula ka-laau*—
*Kona kai opua i kala i ka la’i* 117
*O Kalakaua, he inoa* 117
*hula kielei Ku piliki’i Hanalei-lehua, la* 210
*hula ki’i*—
*E kaukau i hale manu, e!* 99
*E le’e kaukau* 98
*Eleele kaukau* 97
*E Wewehi, ke, ke!* 94
*Kalalau, pali eku i ka makani* 101
*Pikáka e, ka luna ke, ke!* 96
*hula kilu*—
*Kálakálaíhi, kaha ka La ma ke kua o Lehua* 238
*Ku’u hoa mai ka makani kuehu-kapa o Kalalau* 240
*Mao wale i ka lani* 243
*Pua ehu kamaléna ka uka o Kapa’a* 237
*Ula Kala’e-loa i ka lepo a ka makani* 239
*Ula ka lani ia Kanaloa* 241
*hula kolani: He wa la, he ua* 216
*hula kolea: Kolea kai piha* 219
*hula ku’i*—
*I aloha i ke ko a ka wai* 251
*Kaulana mai nei Pua Lanakila* 252
*hula ku’i Molokai*—
*He ala kai olohia* 207
*He inoa no ka Lani* 208
*hula manó: Auwe! pau au i ka manó nui, e!* 221
*hula mu’umu’u: Pi’i ana a-ama* 213
*hula niau-kani: E pi’i ka wai ka nahele* 133
*hula ohe: E pi’ i ka nahele* 135
*hula ohelo: Ku oe ko’u wahi ohelo nei la, auwe, auwe!* 233
*hula o-niu: Ke pohá nei, u’ína la!* 248
*hula pahu*—
*A Puna au, i Kuki’i au, i Ha’eha’e* 104
*Kau lilua i ke anu Wai-aleale* 105
*O Hilo oe, muliwai a ka ua i ka lani* 104
*hula pa-hua: Pa au i ka ihe a Kane* 183
*hula pa-ipu*—
*Aole au e hele ka li’u-la o Maná* 79
*Haku’i ka uahi o ka lua* 88
*He lua i lea hikina* 85
*Kauhua Ku, ka Lani, iloli ka moku* 80
*Kauo pu ka iwa kala-pahe’e* 76
*Ku aku la Kea-aú, lele ka makani mawaho* 77
*Lau lehua punoni ula ke kai o Kona* 75
*O Ewa, aina kai ula i ka lepo* 84
*Ooe no paha ia, e ka lau o ke aloha* 82
*Wela Kahiki, e!* 73
*hula pa’i-umauma*—
*A Hilo au, e, hoolulu ka lehua* 203
*E Manono la, ea* 204
*Kahipa, na waiu olewa* 205
*hula Pele*—
*A Kauai, a ke olewa iluna* 189
*Aole e mao ka ohu* 195
*E ala, e Kahiki-ku* 196
*E oe mauna i ka ohu* 194
*I kama’ama’a la i ka pua-lei* 199
*Ike ia Kauná-wahine, Makani Ka-ú* 193
*Ke amo la ke Akua la i-uka* 190
*Ku i Wailua ka pou hale* 191
*Mai Kahiki ka Wahine, o Pele* 187
*Nou paha e, ka inoa* 200
*O Pele la ko’u akua* 198
*hula puili*—
*Hiki mai, hiki mai ka La, e!* 114
*Malua, ki’i wai ke aloha* 114
*hula ulili: Ki’i na ka ipo* 246
*hula úli-ulí*—
*Aole i mana’o ia* 108
*Auhea wale oe, e ka Makani Inu-wai?* 110
*inoa*—
composition and criticism of 27
must contain no words of ill omen 37
their authors called “the king’s wash-tubs” 116
to Naihe: *Ka nalu nui, a ku ka nalu mai Kona* 35
in the *hula*, starting of 58
*kahea*, password to the *halau*—
*Ka uka holo-kia ahi-manu o La’a* 41
*Kunihi ka mauna i ka la’i, e* 40
*Li’u-li’u aloha ia’u* 39
*komo*, welcome to the *halau*—
*Aloha na hale o makou i makamaka ole* 39
*E hea i ke kanaka e komo maloko* 41
*kuahu*, altar-prayer—
*E, Laka, e!* 34
*Noho ana Laka i ka ulu wehiwehi* 33
*kupe’e*, anklet song: _Aala kupukupu ka uka o
Kanehoa_ 49
of Hiiaka: _Le’a wale hoi ka wahine limalima ole,
wawae ole_ 212
of Mana-mana-ia-kaluea: _Ke lei mai la o Kaula
i ke kai e-e!_ 212
*oli*—
for the *hula pua’a: Ko’i maka nui* 228
in the game of *kilu: A uweuwe ke ko’e a ke kae* 240
set to music—
XI: *A e ho’i ke aloha i ka mawae* 167
VIII: *Aia i Waipi’o Paka’alana* 162
IX: *Aloha wale oe* 164
VII: *Halau Hanalei i ka nini a ka úa* 156
XIV: *Hawaii ponoi* 172
X: *He aloha wau ia oe* 166
XIII: *O ka ponaha iho a ke ao* 169
XII: *Ua líke no a líke* 168
to Kaukini: *Ike ia Kaukini, he lawaia manu*
(note) 51
MELODY of Hawaiian song 170
METHINKS IT IS YOU, leaf plucked from Love’s tree: song
for *hula pa-ipu* 83
MIMETIC GESTURE 178
MISTAKEN VIEWS about the Hawaiians 262
MISTY AND DIM, a bush in the wilds of Kapa’a: song for
*hula kilu* 237
MOTION, illustrated by gesture 178
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS 140
influence on a *hula* performance 113
the *kaekeeke* 122
the *pu-la-í* 147
the *ukeké* 149
MUSICAL SELECTIONS—
I: range of the nose-flute 146
II: from the nose-flute 146
III: the *ukeké* as played by Keaonaloa 149
IV: song from the *hula pa’i-umauma* 153
V: song from the *hula pa-ipu* 153
VI: song from the *hula Pele* 154
VII: *oli* and *mele* from the *hula ala’a-papa* 156
VIII: *He inoa no Kamehameha* 162
IX: song, *Poli anuanu: Aloha wale oe* 164
X: song, *Hua-hua’i* 166
XI: song, *Ka Mawae* 167
XII: song, *Líke no a Líke* 168
XIII: song, *Pili-aoao* 169
XIV: Hawaiian National Hymn, *Hawaii Ponoi* 172
MUSIC AND POETRY, Hawaiian—their relation 161
MUSIC OF THE HAWAIIANS 138–140
cadence 140
phrasing 140
rhythm 160
under foreign influences 163
vocal execution 139
MYTH ABOUT KUMU-KAHI (note) 197
MYTHICAL SHARK, Papi’o (note) 206
NAME-SONG OF KAMEHAMEHA: In Waipio stands Pa ka’alana 163
of Naihe: The huge roller, roller that surges from Kona 36
NATIONAL HYMN of Hawaii—
translation 175
with music XIV 172
NA-Ú, a game (note) 118
NIAU-KANI, a musical instrument 132
NIHEU, mythological character (note) 194
NIHI-AUMOE 91
NOHO ANA LAKA *i ka ulu wehiwehi*: altar-prayer 33
NOLUNA *ka hale kai, e ka ma’alewa*—
*mele* for the *hula ala’a-papa* 63
*mele* with music VII 155
NOSE-FLUTE 135, 145
music from, II 146
remarks on, by Jennie Elsner 146
NOU PAHA E, *ka inoa: mele* for the *hula Pele* 200
Now FOR THE DANCE, dance in accord: song for the *hula ki’i* 98
NOW, KANE, APPROACH, illumine the altar: altar-prayer to
Kane and Kapo 45
NOW WRIGGLES THE WORM to its goal: song in the game of *kilu* 240
OBSTACLE, AN, illustrated by gesture 177
O EWA, *aina kai ula i ka lepo: mele* for the *hula pa-ipu* 84
O GODDESS LAKA! altar-prayer 34
OHE HANO-IHU, the nose-flute 135, 145, 146
O HILO OE, *Hilo, muliwai a ka wa i ka lani: mele* for the
*hula pahu* 104
OH WEWEHI, la, la! song for the *hula ki’i* 95
OH WILDWOOD BOUQUET, Oh Laka—
tabu-removing prayer at graduation 32
tabu-removing prayer at intermission 128
O KALAKAUA, *he inoa: mele* for the hula *ka-laau* 117
O KA PONAHA *iho a ke ao*: song with music XIII 169
O KEAWE-ULA-I-KA-LANI: old *mele* apropos of Keawe (note) 74
O LAKA OE: altar-prayer to Laka 42
OLAPA, a division of *hula* performers 28, 57
OLD SEA SONG—
Blow, blow, thou wind of Hilo! (note) 65
*Pa mai, pa mai* (note) 65
OLD SONG: Keawe, the red blush of dawn (note) 74
OLELO HUNÁ, secret talk 97
OLI AND MELE—
dividing line between 254
from the *hula ala’a-papa*, music VII 156
OLI LEI: *Ke lei mai la o Kaula i ke kai, e!* 56
OLI PA-Ú: *Kakua pa-ú, ahu na kikepa* 51
OLI, THE 254–256
illustration of: *Ka wai opua-makani o Wailua* 255
OLI, with music VII: *Halau Hanalei i ka nini a ka ua* 155
OLOPANA, a famous king (note) 74
O MY LOVE goes out to thee: song with music X 167
ONE-BREATH PERFORMANCE 139
OOE NO PAHA IA, *e ka lau o ke aloha: mele* for the _hula
pa-ipu_ 82
O PELE *la ko’u akua: mele* for the *hula Pele* 198
ORACULAR UTTERANCE of Kapihe: *E iho ana oluna* 99
ORGANIZATION of a *hula* company 29
ORTHOGRAPHY of the Hawaiian language—influence of Rev.
W. Ellis (note) 72
OUTSPREADS NOW THE DAWN: song with music XIII 170
O WANAHILI *ka po loa ia Manu’a: mele* for the *hula ki’i* 100
PA AU I KA *ihe a Kane: mele* for the *hula pa-hua* 183
PAHU, the drum 140
PAKÚ KEAAU, *lulu Waiakea: mele* for the *hula pa-hua* 60
PA MAI, *pa mai*: old sea song (note) 65
PAPI’O, mythical shark (note) 206
at the present time 152
in ancient times 150, 152
PASSWORD TO THE HALAU—
In the uplands, the darting flame-bird of La’a 41
Long, long have I tarried with love 39
Steep stands the mountain in calm 40
PA-U HALAKÁ, THE (note) 124
PA-Ú SONG: Gird on the *pa-ú*, garment tucked in one side 54
PA-Ú, the *hula* skirt 49
PECULIARITIES of Hawaiian speech, music affected by 139
PELE—
relations of, with Kama-pua’a 231
story of 186
PERILOUS, STEEP, is the climb to Hanalei woods: song for
the *hula kielei* 211
PHRASING in music 140
PHYSIQUE of *hula* performers 57
PI’I ANA A-ÁMA: *mele* for the *hula mu’umu’u* 213
PIKÁKA, E, *ka luna, ke, ke: mele* for the *hula ki’i* 96
PILLARS of heaven’s dome, *Kukulu o Kahiki* (note) 17
PITCHING THE TUNE 158
PLAIN, A, illustrated by gesture 178
PLEIADES, THE, *Makali’i* (note) 17
POETRY of ancient Hawaii 161, 263
POINT TO A DARK ONE: song for the *hula ki’i* 97
POLI ANUANU, song with music IX: *Aloha wale oe* 164
PRAYER OF ADULATION to Laka: In the forests, on the ridges 18
PRAYER OF DISMISSAL at intermission: _Ku ka makaia a ka
huaka’i moe ipo_ 129
PRECIOUS THE GIFT of heart’s-ease: song for the _hula
ku’i Molokai_ 208
PROVERBIAL SAYING: Unstable the house 53
PU-Á, a whistle 146
PUA EHU KAMALENA *ka uka o Kapa’a: mele* for the *hula kilu* 237
PUAPUA-KEA 91
PUILI, a bamboo rattle 144
PU-LA-Í, a musical instrument 147
PULE HOONOA—
at graduation exercises: *Pupu we’uwe’u e, Laka e!* 31
at intermission: *Lehua i-luna* 126
to Laka: *Pupu we’uwe’u e, Laka e!* 128
PULE KUAHU—
*E hooulu ana i Kini o ke Akua* 21
*Ei’ au, e Laka mai uka* 20
in prose speech: *E ola ia’u, i ka malihini* 46
to Kane and Kapo: *Kane hiki a’e, he maláma ia luna* 44
to Laka: *Eia ke kuko, ka li’a* 43
to Laka: *Haki pu a ka nahelehele* 18
to Laka: *O Laka oe* 42
to the *Kini Akua: E ulu, e ulu, Kini o ke Akua!* 46
PUNA PLIES PADDLE night-long in the storm: song for
*hula ala’a-papa* 70
PUNCH-AND-JUDY SHOW and the *hula ki’i* 91
PU-NIU, coconut drum 141
PUPILS OF THE HALAU—dispensation before graduation 33
PUPU-A-LENALENA, a famous dog 131
PUPU WE’UWE’U E, Laka e! *pule hoonoa*—
at graduation 31
at intermission 128
PURIFICATION of the *hula* company 15
of the site for the *halau* 14
RANGE of the nose-flute 146
RECITATION in the *hula*, style of 58
RED GLOWS KALA’E through the wind-blown dust: song for the
*hula kilu* 239
REED-INSTRUMENT, the *niau-kani* 147
RELATION of Hawaiian poetry and music 161
RELIGION in Hawaii somber 13
RESPONSIVE CHANTING in the *hula ka-laau* 116
RETURN, O LOVE, to the refuge: song with music XI 168
RHYTHM in Hawaiian music 160, 171
RULES AND PENALTIES controlling a *hula* company 29
RULES OF CONDUCT during the building of a *halau* 15
SHARK-GOD, Kawelo, a sorcerer (note) 79
SHE IS LIMED, she is limed: song for the *hula hoonaná* 245
SINGING IN ANCIENT TIMES—testimony of Capt. James King 149
SKIRT for the *hula*, the *pa-ú* 49
SLANG among the Hawaiians 98
SONG, Hawaiian attitude toward 159
See also Hawaiian song.
SONGS—
apropos of Nihi-aumoe: Look to your ways in upland Puna 94
at the first *hula* 8
composed by Kamehameha II 69
divisions of 58
epithalamium, for the *hula ki’i*: Wanahili bides the
whole night with Manu’a 101
for interlude: Kane is drunken with awa 130
for the—
*hula ala’a-papa*—
A mackerel sky, time for foul weather 70
From mountain retreat and root-woven ladder 64
Haunt of white tropic-bird 67
Heaven-magic fetch a Hilo pour 66
Keaau is a long strip of wildwood 62
Keaau shelters, Waiakea lies in the calm 61
Look now, Waialua, land clothed with ocean mist 60
Love is at play in the grove 71
Love tousled Waimea with shafts of the wind 69
Puna plies paddle night-long in the storm 70
’Twas in Koolau I met with the rain 59
*hula hoonaná*: She is limed, she is limed 245
*hula íliíli*: We twain were lodged in Waipi’o 120
*hula ilio*: Look forth, god Ku, look forth! 225
*hula kaekeeke*: It was in Hamakua 123
Kahiki-nui, land of wind-driven smoke 125
*hula ka-laau*: Kalakaua, a great name 117
The cloud-piles o’er Kona’s sea 118
*hula kielei*: Perilous, steep is the climb to Hanalei
woods 211
*hula ki’i*—
Let’s worship now the bird-cage 99
Now for the dance 98
Oh Wewehi, la, la! 95
Point to a dark one 97
The mountain walls of Kalalau 102
The roof is a-dry, la, la! 96
*hula kilu*—
Comrade mine in the robe-stripping gusts of Lalau 241
Engulfed in heaven’s abyss 243
Kanaloa tints heaven with a blush 242
Misty and dim, a bush in the wilds of Kapa’a 237
Red glows Kala’e through the wind-blown dust 239
The sun-furrow gleams at the back of Lehua 238
*hula kolani*: Lo, the rain, the rain! 217
*hula kolea*: A plover at the full of the sea 220
*hula ku’i*—
Fame trumpets your conquests each day 253
How pleasing, when borne by the tide 252
*hula ku’i Molokai*—
A eulogy for the princess 209
Precious the gift of heart’s ease! 208
*hula manó*: Alas, I am seized by the shark, great
shark! 222
*hula mu’umu’u*: Black crabs are climbing 214
*hula niau-kani*: Up to the streams in the wildwood 133
*hula ohe*: Come up to the wildwood, come 136
*hula ohelo*: Touched, thou art touched by my gesture 234
*hula o-niu*: The rustle and hum of spinning top 249
*hula pahu*—
In Puna was I, in Kiki’i, in Ha’e-ha’e 105
performers 103
Thou art Hilo, Hilo, flood-gate of heaven 104
Wai-aleale stands haughty and cold 106
*hula pa-hua*: I am smitten with spear of Kane 184
*hula pa-ipu*—
A burst of smoke from the pit lifts to the skies 89
A pit lies (far) to the east 86
A storm from the sea strikes Ke-au 78
Big with child is the Princess Ku 81
Ewa’s lagoon is fed with dirt 84
Glowing is Kahiki, oh! 75
I will not chase the mirage of Maná 80
Leaf of lehua and noni-tint 76
Methinks it is you, leaf plucked from love’s tree 83
The iwa flies heavy to nest in the brush 76
*hula pa’i-umauma*—
At Hilo I rendezvoused with the lehua 203
Come now, Manono 204
’Tis Kahipa, with pendulous breasts 206
*hula Pele*—
Alas, there’s no stay to the smoke 195
At Wailua stands the main house-post 192
Bedeck now the board for the feast 200
Behold Kauná, that sprite of windy Ka-ú 193
From Kahiki came the woman, Pele 188
Ho! mountain of vapor puffs! 194
Lo, Pele’s the god of my choice 198
They bear the god’s ax up the mountain 191
To Kauai, lifted in ether 189
With music VI 154
Yours, doubtless, this name 201
*hula pua’a*: Ax of broadest edge I’m hight 230
*hula puili*—
It has come, it has come 114
Malua, fetch water of love 115
*hula ulili*: A search for a sweetheart 247
*hula úli-ulí*—
I spurn the thought with disdain 109
Whence art thou, thirsty Wind? 111
from the *hula pa’i-umauma*—music IV 153
in the game of *kilu*: Now wriggles the worm to its goal 240
of cosmology—
Begotten were the gods of graded rank (note) 196
*Hanau ke apapa nu’u* (note) 196
of Hiiaka: How pleased is the girl maimed of hand and foot 212
of Mana-mana-ia-kaluea: Kaúla wreathes her brow with the
ocean 213
of the tree-shell: Trill afar, trill a-near 121
of welcome to the *halau*: What love to our cottage homes! 40
The Water of Kane: This question, this query 258
with music—
VII: Hanalei is a hall for the dance in the pouring rain 155
XIV: Hawaii’s very own 175
VIII: In Waipi’o stands Paka’a-lana 163
IX: Love fain compels to greet thee 165
X: O my love goes out to thee 167
XIII: Outspreads now the dawn 170
XI: Return, O love, to the refuge 168
XII: When the rain drums loud on the leaf 169
SOURCE of *hula* songs 58
STEEP STANDS THE MOUNTAIN in calm: password to the *halau* 40
STRESS-ACCENT and rhythmic accent 158
SUPPORT AND ORGANIZATION of the *hula* 26
TABU, as a power in controlling a *hula* company 30
TABU-REMOVING PRAYER at intermission: Oh wildwood bouquet,
O Laka! 128
TEMPO in Hawaiian song 160
THE CLOUD-PILES o’er Kona’s sea whet my joy: song for the
*hula kalaau* 118
THE HUGE ROLLER, roller that surges from Kona: name-song to
Naihe 36
THE IWA FLIES HEAVY to nest in the brush: song for the _hula
pa-ipu_ 76
THE MOUNTAIN WALLS of Kalalau: song for the *hula ki’i* 102
THE RAINBOW stands red o’er the ocean: tiring song 55
THE ROOF is a-dry, la, la! song for the *hula ki’i* 96
THE RUSTLE AND HUM of spinning top: song for the *hula o-niu* 249
THE SUN-FURROW gleams at the back of Lehua: song for the
*hula kilu* 238
THE WIND-BEATEN STREAM of Wailua: an *oli* or lyric 256
THEY BEAR THE GOD’S AX up the mountain: song for the
*hula Pele* 191
THIS MY WISH, my burning desire: altar-prayer to Laka 43
THIS QUESTION, this query: song, The Water of Kane 258
THIS SPOIL AND RAPE of the wildwood: altar-prayer to Laka 19
THOU ART HILO, Hilo, flood-gate of heaven: song for the
*hula pahu* 104
THOU ART LAKA: altar-prayer to Laka 42
THY BLESSING, O LAKA: altar-prayer in prose speech 47
TIRING SONG—
*Lele Mahu’ilani a luna* 56
Lift, Mahu’ilani, on high 56
The rainbow stands red o’er the ocean 55
’TIS KAHIPA, with pendulous breasts: song for the _hula
pa’i-umauma_ 206
TO KAUAI, lifted in ether: song for the *hula Pele* 189
TONE-INTERVALS in Hawaiian song 158
TOUCHED, thou art touched by my gesture: song for the
*hula ohelo* 234
TRANSLATION, literalism in, versus fidelity 88
TRILL A-FAR, trill a-near: song of the tree-shell 121
’TWAS IN KOOLAU I met with the rain: song for the _hula
ala’a-papa_ 59
UA ONA O KANE *i ka awa: mele* for interlude 130
UKEKÉ, a Hawaiian harp 147
music of 149
UKU-LELE and taro-patch fiddle, used in the *hula ku’i*
(note) 251
ULA KALA’E-LOA *i ka lepo a ka makani: mele* for the
*hula kilu* 239
ULA KA LANI *ia Kanaloa: mele* for the *hula kilu* 241
ÚLI-ULÍ, a musical instrument 107, 144
UNION OR SIMILARITY, illustrated by gesture 178
VOCAL EXECUTION of Hawaiian music 139
VOWEL-REPETITION in the *i’i* 159
WAI-ALEALE stands haughty and cold: song for the *hula pahu* 106
WANAHILI bides the whole night with Manu’a: (epithalamium)
song for the *hula ki’i* 101
WATER OF KANE, THE: a song of Kane 257
WELA KAHIKI, E! *mele* for the *hula pa-ipu* 73
WELCOME TO THE HALAU: Call, to the man to come in 41
WE TWAIN were lodged in Waipi’o: song for the *hula íliíli* 120
WHAT LOVE to our cottage homes! song of welcome to the
*halau* 40
WHENCE ART THOU, thirsty Wind? song for the *hula úli-ulí* 111
WHEN FLOWERS THE WILIWILI: a bit of folk-lore (note) 221
WHEN THE RAIN DRUMS loud on the leaf: song with music XII 169
WORD-REPETITION in poetry 54
for assonance 227
WORSHIP IN THE HALAU 42
contrasted with worship in the *heiau* 15
WREATHING THE EMBLEM of goddess Laka 34
WREATH-SONG: Kaula wears the ocean as a wreath 56
XYLOPHONE, the *laau* 144
YOURS, DOUBTLESS, this name: song for the *hula Pele* 201