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 Kaae;[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 Kaae (Manu-o-Kaae 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-kau refers to the ranks and classes of the gods.]

[Footnote 272: Pe-ka-nana 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, Laka e, O kona we'u-we'u e ku-wa;[274] O Ku-ka-ohia-Laka,[275] e; Laua me Ku-pulu-pulu;[276] 5 Ka Lehua me ke Koa lau-lii; O ka Lama me Moku-halii, Ku-i-ku-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, Laka; Pa-pa-lua noa!

[Translation]

Tabu-lifting Prayer (to Laka)

Oh wildwood bouquet, O Laka! Set her greenwood leaves in order due; And Ku, god of Ohia-La-ka, He and Ku, the shaggy, 5 Lehua with small-leafed Koa, And Lama and Moku-hali'i, Ku-i-ku-i and Haia-pe-pe; 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-wa. 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-ka. A Tahitian name for the tree which in Hawaii is called lehua, or ohia. In verse 3 the Hawaiian name ohia and the Tahitian laka (accented on the final syllable, thus distinguishing it from the name of the goddess Laka, with which it has no discoverable connection) are combined in one form as an appellation of the god Ku-ku-ka-ohia-Laka. 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: Ku-i-ku-i. The same as the tree now called ku-ku-i, the tree whose nuts were used as candles and flambeaus. The Samoan name of the same tree is tu-i-tu-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 Pole'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 keha[281] i ka uluna; Ua hi'o-lani[282] i ka moena. Kipu mai la i ke kapa o ka noe. 5 Noe-noe na hoku 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-pu; A ono ole ka awa a ke alii I ke kani mau o Kiha-pu; Moe ole kona po o ka Hooilo; Uluhua, a uluhua, 15 I ka mea nana e hull 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-pu. The king's awa fails to console him; 'Tis the all-night conching of Kiha-pu. 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: Keha 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-pu, had been stolen from the heiau of Paka'a-lana, 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-pu. 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-pu. Not many years ago the Hawaiian Museum contained an ethnological specimen of great interest, the conch-shell Kiha-pu. 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 MAU-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-pa.[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-pa. 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-pa.

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 Kewa,[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-o. 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-alli. 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 Kewa. Kalu-kalu may mean a species of soft, smooth grass specially fitted for sliding upon, which flourished on the inclined plain of Kewa, 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 Kewa, 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 Pihana-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-o; 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 section of the log, thus making a closed chamber of the 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 kaekeeke 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 c below the staff; another that of c# below the staff, and a third that of [==c]# 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. Fo bleating lamb was sacrificed to furnish parchment for its drumhead. Its associations are as innocent as the pipes of Pan.

4. The ka-eke-eke, 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 kaekeeke an excellent substitute was found in a bag filled with sand or earth.

In choosing bamboo for the kaekeeke 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 kaekeeke 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 kaekeeke 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 uli-uli (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 uliuli 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-ili 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 d (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 [==c]#, 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], ḡ, 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 produced by Keaonaloa.]

II—Music from the Nose-flute Arranged by JENNIE ELSNER [Music]

9. The pu-a 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 ili-ili 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 pu-la-i. 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 ukeke, 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 ukeke 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 ukeke seen by the author was furnished with pins, pegs, or any similar device to facilitate tuning. Nevertheless, the [Page 148] musician does tune his ukeke, 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 ukeke, 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 ukeke 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 ukeke.

Experiment with the ukeke 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 ukeke:

"The strings of this ukeke, the Hawaiian fiddle, are tuned to ē; to b and to d. 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 Ukeke (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 part of the performance is the exact counterpart of that of 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 kaekeeke, 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] Naha 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-Lehua. Noi au i ke kai e mali'o. Ane ku a'e la he lehua ilaila— 5 Hopoe Lehua ki'eki'e. Maka'u ka Lehua i ke kanaka, 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-Lehua. Then I pray to the Sea, be thou calm; Would there might stand on thy shore a lehua— 5 Lehua tree tall of Hopoe. The Lehua 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 , 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 [Music: f] and [Music: d] in the key of [Music: B-flat], rather than [Music: f] and [Music: d] 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 Abi-gaila 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 role 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 elan 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; Maeele au I ke anu, e.

2. He anu e ka ua, He anu e ka wai, Li'a kuu ill I ke anu, e.

3. Ina paha, Ooe a owau Ka i pu-kuku'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-lo-ha, po-li, and a-nu-a-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'ohuli.[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'ohuli.