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SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION

BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY

BULLETIN 38

UNWRITTEN LITERATURE OF HAWAII
THE SACRED SONGS OF THE HULA

COLLECTED AND TRANSLATED, WITH NOTES AND AN ACCOUNT OF THE HULA

BY NATHANIEL B. EMERSON, A.M., M.D.

WASHINGTON

GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE

1909

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PREFATORY NOTE

Previous to the year 1906 the researches of the Bureau were restricted to the American Indians, but by act of Congress approved June 30 of that year the scope of its operations was extended to include the natives of the Hawaiian islands. Funds were not specifically provided, however, for prosecuting investigations among these people, and in the absence of an appropriation for this purpose it was considered inadvisable to restrict the systematic investigations among the Indian tribes in order that the new field might be entered. Fortunately the publication of valuable data pertaining to Hawaii is already provided for, and the present memoir by Doctor Emerson is the first of the Bureau’s Hawaiian series. It is expected that this Bulletin will be followed shortly by one comprising an extended list of works relating to Hawaii, compiled by Prof. H.M. Ballou and Dr. Cyrus Thomas.

W.H. HOLMES,
Chief.

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CONTENTS

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ILLUSTRATIONS

MUSICAL PIECES

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INTRODUCTION

This book is for the greater part a collection of Hawaiian songs and poetic pieces that have done service from time immemorial as the stock supply of the hula. The descriptive portions have been added, not because the poetical parts could not stand by themselves, but to furnish the proper setting and to answer the questions of those who want to know. Now, the hula stood for very much to the ancient Hawaiian; it was to him in place of our concert-hall and lecture-room, our opera and theater, and thus became one of his chief means of social enjoyment. Besides this, it kept the communal imagination in living touch with the nation’s legendary past. The hula had songs proper to itself, but it found a mine of inexhaustible wealth in the epics and wonder-myths that celebrated the doings of the volcano goddess Pele and her compeers. Thus in the cantillations of the old-time hula we find a ready-made anthology that includes every species of composition in the whole range of Hawaiian poetry. This epic ¹ of Pele was chiefly a more or less detached series of poems forming a story addressed not to the closet-reader, but to the eye and ear and heart of the assembled chiefs and people; and it was sung. The Hawaiian song, its note of joy par excellence, was the oli; but it must be noted that in every species of Hawaiian poetry, mele—whether epic or eulogy or prayer, sounding through them all we shall find the lyric note.

Footnote 1: (return) It might be termed a handful of lyrics strung on an epic thread.

The most telling record of a people’s intimate life is the record which it unconsciously makes in its songs. This record which the Hawaiian people have left of themselves is full and specific. When, therefore, we ask what emotions stirred the heart of the old-time Hawaiian as he approached the great themes of life and death, of ambition and jealousy, of sexual passion, of romantic love, of conjugal love, and parental love, what his attitude toward nature and the dread forces of earthquake and storm, and the mysteries of spirit and the hereafter, we shall find our answer in the songs and prayers and recitations of the hula.

The hula, it is true, has been unfortunate in the mode and manner of its introduction to us moderns. An institution of divine, that is, religious, origin, the hula in modern times Page 8 has wandered so far and fallen so low that foreign and critical esteem has come to associate it with the riotous and passionate ebullitions of Polynesian kings and the amorous posturing of their voluptuaries. We must make a just distinction, however, between the gestures and bodily contortions presented by the men and women, the actors in the hula, and their uttered words. “The voice is Jacob’s voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau.” In truth, the actors in the hula no longer suit the action to the word. The utterance harks back to the golden age; the gesture is trumped up by the passion of the hour, or dictated by the master of the hula, to whom the real meaning of the old bards is ofttimes a sealed casket.

Whatever indelicacy attaches in modern times to some of the gestures and contortions of the hula dancers, the old-time hula songs in large measure were untainted with grossness. If there ever were a Polynesian Arcadia, and if it were possible for true reports of the doings and sayings of the Polynesians to reach us from that happy land—reports of their joys and sorrows, their love-makings and their jealousies, their family spats and reconciliations, their worship of beauty and of the gods and goddesses who walked in the garden of beauty—we may say, I think, that such a report would be in substantial agreement with the report that is here offered; but, if one’s virtue will not endure the love-making of Arcadia, let him banish the myth from his imagination and hie to a convent or a nunnery.

If this book does nothing more than prove that savages are only children of a younger growth than ourselves, that what we find them to have been we ourselves—in our ancestors—once were, the labor of making it will have been not in vain.

For an account of the first hula we may look to the story of Pele. On one occasion that goddess begged her sisters to dance and sing before her, but they all excused themselves, saying they did not know the art. At that moment in came little Hiiaka, the youngest and the favorite. Unknown to her sisters, the little maiden had practised the dance under the tuition of her friend, the beautiful but ill-fated Hopoe. When banteringly invited to dance, to the surprise of all, Hiiaka modestly complied. The wave-beaten sand-beach was her floor, the open air her hall. Feet and hands and swaying form kept time to her improvisation:

The nature of this work has made it necessary to use occasional Hawaiian words in the technical parts. At their Page 9 first introduction it has seemed fitting that they should be distinguished by italics; but, once given the entrée, it is assumed that, as a rule, they will be granted the rights of free speech without further explanation.

A glossary, which explains all the Hawaiian words used in the prose text, is appended. Let no one imagine, however, that by the use of this little crutch alone he will be enabled to walk or stumble through the foreign ways of the simplest Hawaiian mele. Notes, often copious, have been appended to many of the mele, designed to exhaust neither the subject nor the reader, but to answer some of the questions of the intelligent thinker.

Thanks, many thanks, are due, first, to those native Hawaiians who have so far broken with the old superstitious tradition of concealment as to unearth so much of the unwritten literary wealth stored in Hawaiian memories; second, to those who have kindly contributed criticism, suggestion, material at the different stages of this book’s progress; and, lastly, to those dear friends of the author’s youth—living or dead—whose kindness has made it possible to send out this fledgling to the world. The author feels under special obligations to Dr. Titus Munson Coan, of New York, for a painstaking revision of the manuscript.

HONOLULU, HAWAII.

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I.—THE HULA

One turns from the study of old genealogies, myths, and traditions of the Hawaiians with a hungry despair at finding in them means so small for picturing the people themselves, their human interests and passions; but when it comes to the hula and the whole train of feelings and sentiments that made their entrances and exits in the halau (the hall of the hula) one perceives that in this he has found the door to the heart of the people. So intimate and of so simple confidence are the revelations the people make of themselves in their songs and prattlings that when one undertakes to report what he has heard and to translate into the terms of modern speech what he has received in confidence, as it were, he almost blushes, as if he had been guilty of spying on Adam and Eve in their nuptial bower. Alas, if one could but muffle his speech with the unconscious lisp of infancy, or veil and tone his picture to correspond to the perspective of antiquity, he might feel at least that, like Watteau, he had dealt worthily, if not truly, with that ideal age which we ever think of as the world’s garden period.

The Hawaiians, it is true, were many removes from being primitives; their dreams, however, harked back to a period that was close to the world’s infancy. Their remote ancestry was, perhaps, akin to ours—Aryan, at least Asiatic—but the orbit of their evolution seems to have led them away from the strenuous discipline that has whipped the Anglo-Saxon branch into fighting shape with fortune.

If one comes to the study of the hula and its songs in the spirit of a censorious moralist he will find nothing for him; if as a pure ethnologist, he will take pleasure in pointing out the physical resemblances of the Hawaiian dance to the languorous grace of the Nautch girls, of the geisha, and other oriental dancers. But if he comes as a student and lover of human nature, back of the sensuous posturings, in the emotional language of the songs he will find himself entering the playground of the human race.

The hula was a religious service, in which poetry, music, pantomime, and the dance lent themselves, under the forms of Page 12 dramatic art, to the refreshment of men’s minds. Its view of life was idyllic, and it gave itself to the celebration of those mythical times when gods and goddesses moved on the earth as men and women and when men and women were as gods. As to subject-matter, its warp was spun largely from the bowels of the old-time mythology into cords through which the race maintained vital connection with its mysterious past. Interwoven with these, forming the woof, were threads of a thousand hues and of many fabrics, representing the imaginations of the poet, the speculations of the philosopher, the aspirations of many a thirsty soul, as well as the ravings and flame-colored pictures of the sensualist, the mutterings and incantations of the kahuna, the mysteries and paraphernalia of Polynesian mythology, the annals of the nation’s history—the material, in fact, which in another nation and under different circumstances would have gone to the making of its poetry, its drama, its opera, its literature.

The people were superstitiously religious; one finds their drama saturated with religious feeling, hedged about with tabu, loaded down with prayer and sacrifice. They were poetical; nature was full of voices for their ears; their thoughts came to them as images; nature was to them an allegory; all this found expression in their dramatic art. They were musical; their drama must needs be cast in forms to suit their ideas of rhythm, of melody, and of poetic harmony. They were, moreover, the children of passion, sensuous, worshipful of whatever lends itself to pleasure. How, then, could the dramatic efforts of this primitive people, still in the bonds of animalism, escape the note of passion? The songs and other poetic pieces which have come down to us from the remotest antiquity are generally inspired with a purer sentiment and a loftier purpose than the modern; and it may be said of them all that when they do step into the mud it is not to tarry and wallow in it; it is rather with the unconscious naiveté of a child thinking no evil.

On the principle of “the terminal conversion of opposites,” which the author once heard an old philosopher expound, the most advanced modern is better able to hark back to the sweetness and light and music of the primeval world than the veriest wigwam-dweller that ever chipped an arrowhead. It is not so much what the primitive man can give us as what we can find in him that is worth our while. The light that a Goethe, a Thoreau, or a Kipling can project into Arcadia is mirrored in his own nature.

If one mistakes not the temper and mind of this generation, we are living in an age that is not content to let perish one seed of thought or one single phase of life that can be rescued from the drift of time. We mourn the extinction of the buffalo of the plains and of the birds of the islands, Page 13 rightly thinking that life is somewhat less rich and full without them. What of the people of the plains and of the islands of the sea? Is their contribution so nothingless that one can affirm that the orbit of man’s mind is complete without it?

Comparison is unavoidable between the place held by the dance in ancient Hawaii and that occupied by the dance in our modern society. The ancient Hawaiians did not personally and informally indulge in the dance for their own amusement, as does pleasure-loving society at the present time. Like the Shah of Persia, but for very different reasons, Hawaiians of the old time left it to be done for them by a body of trained and paid performers. This was not because the art and practice of the hula were held in disrepute—quite the reverse—but because the hula was an accomplishment requiring special education and arduous training in both song and dance, and more especially because it was a religious matter, to be guarded against profanation by the observance of tabus and the performance of priestly rites.

This fact, which we find paralleled in every form of communal amusement, sport, and entertainment in ancient Hawaii, sheds a strong light on the genius of the Hawaiian. We are wont to think of the old-time Hawaiians as light-hearted children of nature, given to spontaneous outbursts of song and dance as the mood seized them; quite as the rustics of “merrie England” joined hands and tripped “the light fantastic toe” in the joyous month of May or shouted the harvest home at a later season. The genius of the Hawaiian was different. With him the dance was an affair of premeditation, an organized effort, guarded by the traditions of a somber religion. And this characteristic, with qualifications, will be found to belong to popular Hawaiian sport and amusement of every variety. Exception must be made, of course, of the unorganized sports of childhood. One is almost inclined to generalize and to say that those children of nature, as we are wont to call them, in this regard were less free and spontaneous than the more advanced race to which we are proud to belong. But if the approaches to the temple of Terpsichore with them were more guarded, we may confidently assert that their enjoyment therein was deeper and more abandoned.

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II.—THE HALAU; THE KUAHU—THEIR DECORATION
AND CONSECRATION

THE HALAU

In building a halau, or hall, in which to perform the hula a Hawaiian of the old, old time was making a temple for his god. In later and degenerate ages almost any structure would serve the purpose; it might be a flimsy shed or an extemporaneous lanai such as is used to shelter that al fresco entertainment, the luau. But in the old times of strict tabu and rigorous etiquette, when the chief had but to lift his hand and the entire population of a district ransacked plain, valley, and mountain to collect the poles, beams, thatch, and cordstuff; when the workers were so numerous that the structure grew and took shape in a day, we may well believe that ambitious and punctilious patrons of the hula, such as La’a, Liloa, or Lono-i-ka-makahiki, did not allow the divine art of Laka to house in a barn.

The choice of a site was a matter of prime importance. A formidable code enunciated the principles governing the selection. But—a matter of great solicitude—there were omens to be heeded, snares and pitfalls devised by the superstitious mind for its own entanglement. The untimely sneeze, the ophthalmic eye, the hunched back were omens to be shunned.

Within historic times, since the abrogation of the tabu system and the loosening of the old polytheistic ideas, there has been in the hula a lowering of former standards, in some respects a degeneration. The old gods, however, were not entirely dethroned; the people of the hula still continued to maintain the form of divine service and still appealed to them for good luck; but the soul of worship had exhaled; the main study now was to make of the hula a pecuniary success.

In an important sense the old way was in sympathy with the thought, “Except God be with the workmen, they labor in vain that build the house.” The means for gaining divine favor and averting the frown of the gods were those practised by all religionists in the infantile state of the human mind—the observance of fasts and tabus, the offering of special prayers and sacrifices. The ceremonial purification of the site, or of the building if it had been used for profane purposes, was accomplished by aspersions with sea water mixed with turmeric or red earth.

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When one considers the tenacious hold which all rites and ceremonies growing out of what we are accustomed to call superstitions had on the mind of the primitive Hawaiian, it puzzles one to account for the entire dropping out from modern memory of the prayers which were recited during the erection of a hall for the shelter of an institution so festive and so popular as the hula, while the prayers and gloomy ritual of the temple service have survived. The explanation may be found, perhaps, in the fact that the priests of the temple held position by the sovereign’s appointment; they formed a hierarchy by themselves, whereas the position of the kumu-hula, who was also a priest, was open to anyone who fitted himself for it by training and study and by passing successfully the ai-lolo ² ordeal. After that he had the right to approach the altar of the hula god with the prescribed offerings and to present the prayers and petitions of the company to Laka or Kapo.

Footnote 2: (return) Ai-lolo. See pp. 32, 34, 36.

In pleasing contrast to the worship of the heiau, the service of the hula was not marred by the presence of groaning victims and bloody sacrifices. Instead we find the offerings to have been mostly rustic tokens, things entirely consistent with light-heartedness, joy, and ecstasy of devotion, as if to celebrate the fact that heaven had come down to earth and Pan, with all the nymphs, was dancing.

During the time the halau was building the tabus and rules that regulated conduct were enforced with the utmost strictness. The members of the company were required to maintain the greatest propriety of demeanor, to suppress all rudeness of speech and manner, to abstain from all carnal indulgence, to deny themselves specified articles of food, and above all to avoid contact with a corpse. If anyone, even by accident, suffered such defilement, before being received again into fellowship or permitted to enter the halau and take part in the exercises he must have ceremonial cleansing (huikala). The kumu offered up prayers, sprinkled the offender with salt water and turmeric, commanded him to bathe in the ocean, and he was clean. If the breach of discipline was gross and willful, an act of outrageous violence or the neglect of tabu, the offender could be restored only after penitence and confession.

THE KUAHU

In every halau stood the kuahu, or altar, as the visible temporary abode of the deity, whose presence was at once the inspiration of the performance and the luck-bringer of the enterprise—a rustic frame embowered in greenery. The gathering of the green leaves and other sweet finery of Page 16 nature for its construction and decoration was a matter of so great importance that it could not be intrusted to any chance assemblage of wild youth who might see fit to take the work in hand. There were formalities that must be observed, songs to be chanted, prayers to be recited. It was necessary to bear in mind that when one deflowered the woods of their fronds of íe-íe and fern or tore the trailing lengths of maile—albeit in honor of Laka herself—the body of the goddess was being despoiled, and the despoiling must be done with all tactful grace and etiquette.

It must not be gathered from this that the occasion was made solemn and oppressive with weight of ceremony, as when a temple was erected or as when a tabu chief walked abroad, and all men lay with their mouths in the dust. On the contrary, it was a time of joy and decorous exultation, a time when in prayer-songs and ascriptions of praise the poet ransacked all nature for figures and allusions to be used in caressing the deity.

The following adulatory prayer (kánaenáe) in adoration of Laka was recited while gathering the woodland decorations for the altar. It is worthy of preservation for its intrinsic beauty, for the spirit of trustfulness it breathes. We remark the petitions it utters for the growth of tree and shrub, as if Laka had been the alma mater under whose influence all nature budded and rejoiced.

It would seem as if the physical ecstasy of the dance and the sensuous joy of all nature’s finery had breathed their spirit into the aspiration and that the beauty of leaf and flower, all of them familiar forms of the god’s metamorphosis—accessible to their touch and for the regalement of their senses—had brought such nearness and dearness, of affection between goddess and worshiper that all fear was removed.

He kánaenáe no Laka

Footnote 3: (return) Wao-kele. That portion of the mountain forest where grew the monarch trees was called wao-kele or wao-maukele.

Footnote 4: (return) Na Kane. Why was the offering, the black roast porkling, said to be for Kane, who was not a special patron, au-makúa, of the hula? The only answer the author has been able to obtain from any Hawaiian is that, though Kane was not a god of the hula, he was a near relative. On reflection, the author can see a propriety in devoting the reeking flesh of the swine to god Kane, while to the sylvan deity, Lâkâ, goddess of the peaceful hula, were devoted the rustic offerings that were the embodiment of her charms. Her image, or token—an uncarved block of wood—was set up in a prominent part of the kuahu, and at the close of a performance the wreaths that had been worn by the actors were draped about the image. Thus viewed, there is a delicate propriety and significance in such disposal of the pig.

Footnote 5: (return) Maka-li’i (Small eyes). The Pleiades; also the period of six months, including the rainy season, that began some time in October or November and was reckoned from the date when the Pleiades appeared in the East at sunset. Maka-li’i was also the name of a month, by some reckoned as the first month of the year.

Footnote 6: (return) Maka-léi. The name of a famous mythological tree which had the power of attracting fish. It did not poison, but only bewitched or fascinated them. There were two trees bearing this name, one a male, the other a female, which both grew at a place in Hilo called Pali-uli. One of these, the female, was, according to tradition, carried from its root home to the fish ponds in Kailua, Oahu, for the purpose of attracting fish to the neighboring waters. The enterprise was eminently successful.

Footnote 7: (return) Po. Literally night; the period in cosmogony when darkness and chaos reigned, before the affairs on earth had become settled under the rule of the gods. Here the word is used to indicate a period of remote mythologic antiquity. The use of the word Po in the following verse reminds one of the French adage, “La nuit porte conseil.”

Footnote 8: (return) Kokúa. Another form for kakúa, to gird on the pa-ú. (See Pa-ú song, pp. 51-53.)

Footnote 9: (return) Uníki. A word not given in the dictionary. The debut of an actor at the hula, after passing the ai-lolo test and graduating from the school of the halau, a critical event.

Footnote 10: (return) Ha-íke-íke. Equivalent to ho-íke-íke, an exhibition, to exhibit.

Footnote 11: (return) Ou-alii. The Hawaiians seem to have lost the meaning of this word. The author has been at some pains to work it out somewhat conjecturally.

Footnote 12: (return) E Lono, e hu’ ia, mai, etc. The unelided form of the word hu’ would be hui. The final i is dropped before the similar vowel of ia.

Footnote 13: (return) Kukúlu o Kahíki. The pillars of Kahiki. The ancient Hawaiians supposed the starry heavens to be a solid dome supported by a wall or vertical construction—kukulu—set up along the horizon. That section of the wall that stood over against Kahiki they termed Kukulu o Kahiki. Our geographical name Tahiti is of course from Kahiki, though it does not apply to the same region. After the close of what has been termed “the period of intercourse,” which, came probably during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and during which the ancient Hawaiians voyaged to and fro between Hawaii and the lands of the South, geographical ideas became hazy and the term Kahiki came to be applied to any foreign country.

Footnote 14: (return) Áno-ái. An old form of salutation, answering in general to the more modern word aloha, much used at the present time. Ano-ai seems to have had a shade of meaning more nearly answering to our word “welcome.” This is the first instance the author has met with of its use in poetry.

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[Translation.]

A Prayer of Adulation to Laka

The cult of god Lono was milder, more humane, than that of Kane and the other major gods. No human sacrifices were offered on his altars.—The statement in verse 26 accords with the general belief of the Hawaiians that Lono dwelt in foreign parts, Kukulu o Kahiki, and that he would some time come to them from across the waters. When Captain Cook arrived in his ships, the Hawaiians worshiped him as the god Lono.

The following song-prayer also is one that was used at the gathering of the greenery in the mountains and during the building of the altar in the halau. When recited in the halau all the pupils took part, and the chorus was a response in which the whole assembly in the halau were expected to join:

Pule Kuahu no Laka

[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer to Laka

Footnote 15: (return) Hoo-ulu. This word has a considerable range of meaning, well illustrated in this mele. In its simplest form, ulu, it means to grow, to become strong. Joined with the causative hoo, as here, it takes on the spiritual meaning of causing to prosper, of inspiring. The word “collect,” used in the translation, has been chosen to express the double sense of gathering the garlands and of devoting them to the goddess as a religious offering. In the fourth verse this word, hooulu, is used in the sense of to heal. Compare note c.

Footnote 16: (return) Hiiaka. The youngest sister of Pele, often spoken of as Hiiaka-i-ka-poli-o-Pele, Hiiaka-of-the-bosom-of-Pele. Why she should be spoken of as capable of healing diseases is not at all clear.

Footnote 17: (return) Ulu. Here we have the word ulu in its simple, uncombined form, meaning to enter into and inspire.

The wildwoods of Hawaii furnished in great abundance and variety small poles for the framework of the kuahu, the altar, the holy place of the halau, and sweet-scented leaves and flowers suitable for its decoration. A spirit of fitness, however, limited choice among these to certain species that were deemed acceptable to the goddess because they were reckoned as among her favorite forms of metamorphosis. To go outside this ordained and traditional range would have been an offense, a sacrilege. This critical spirit would have looked with the greatest disfavor on the practice that in modern times has crept in, of bedecking the dancers with garlands of roses, pinks, jessamine, and other nonindigenous flowers, as being utterly repugnant to the traditional spirit of the hula.

Among decorations approved and most highly esteemed stood pre-eminent the fragrant maile (pl. IV) and the star-like fronds and ruddy drupe of the íe-íe (pl. II) and its kindred, the hála-pépe (pl. III); the scarlet pompons of the lehúa (pl. XIII) and ohi’a, with the fruit of the latter (the mountain-apple); many varieties of fern, including that splendid parasite, the “bird’s nest fern” Page 20 (ekáha), hailed by the Hawaiians as Mawi’s paddle; to which must be added the commoner leaves and lemon-colored flowers of the native hibiscus, the hau, the breadfruit, the native banana and the dracæna (ti), plate V; and lastly, richest of all, in the color that became Hawaii’s favorite, the royal yellow ilíma (pl. VI), a flower familiar to the eyes of the tourist to Honolulu.

While deft hands are building and weaving the light framework of the kuahu, binding its parts with strong vines and decorating it with nature’s sumptuous embroidery, the kumu, or teacher, under the inspiration of the deity, for whose residence he has prepared himself by long vigil and fasting with fleshly abstinence, having spent the previous night alone in the halau, is chanting or cantillating his adulatory prayers, kanaenae—songs of praise they seem to be—to the glorification of the gods and goddesses who are invited to bless the occasion with their presence and inspiration, but especially of that one, Laka, whose bodily presence is symbolized by a rude block of wood arrayed in yellow tapa that is set up on the altar itself. Thus does the kumu sing:

Pule Kuahu

[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer (to Laka)

Footnote 18: (return) Ilio nana e hae. The barking of a dog, the crowing of a cock, the grunting of a pig, the hooting of an owl, or any such sound occurring at the time of a religious solemnity, aha, broke the spell of the incantation and vitiated the ceremony. Such an untimely accident was as much deprecated as were the Turk, the Comet, and the Devil by pious Christian souls during the Middle Ages.

Footnote 19: (return) Lau-ki. The leaf of the ti plant—the same as the ki—(Dracæna terminalis), much used as an emblem of divine power, a charm or defense against malign spiritual influences. The kahuna often wore about his neck a fillet of this leaf. The ti leaf was a special emblem of Ha’i-wahine, or of Li’a-wahine. It was much used as a decoration about the halau.

Footnote 20: (return) Ha’i-ka-manawa. It is conjectured that this is the same as Ha’i-wahine. She was a mythological character, about whom there is a long and tragic story.

The prayers which the hula folk of old times chanted while gathering the material in the woods or while weaving it into shape in the halau for the construction of a shrine did not form a rigid liturgy; they formed rather a repertory as elastic as the sighing of the breeze, or the songs of the birds whose notes embroidered the pure mountain air. There were many altar-prayers, so that if a prayer came to an end before the work was done the priest had but to begin the recitation of another prayer, or, if the spirit of the occasion so moved him, he would take up again a prayer already repeated, for until the work was entirely accomplished the voice of prayer must continue to be heard.

The pule now to be given seems to be specially suited to that portion of the service which took place in the woods at the gathering of the poles and greenery. It was designed specially for the placating of the little god-folk who from their number were addressed as Kini o ke Akua, the multitude of the little gods, and who were the counterparts in old Hawaii of our brownies, elfins, sprites, kobolds, gnomes, and other woodland imps. These creatures, though dwarfish and insignificant in person, were in such numbers—four thousand, forty thousand, four hundred thousand—and were so impatient of any invasion of their territory, so jealous of their prerogatives, so spiteful and revengeful when injured, that it was policy always to keep on the right side of them.

Pule Kuahu

Footnote 21: (return) Kini o ke Akua. See note d, p. 24.

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[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer

From one point of view these pule are not to be regarded as prayers in the ordinary sense of the word, but rather as song-offerings, verbal bouquets, affectionate sacrifices to the gods. Page 23

III.—THE GODS OF THE HULA.

Of what nature were the gods of the old times, and how did the ancient Hawaiians conceive of them? As of beings having the form, the powers, and the passions of humanity, yet standing above and somewhat apart from men. One sees, as through a mist, darkly, a figure, standing, moving; in shape a plant, a tree or vine-clad stump, a bird, a taloned monster, a rock carved by the fire-queen, a human form, a puff of vapor—and now it has given place to vacancy. It was a goddess, perhaps of the hula. In the solitude of the wilderness one meets a youthful being of pleasing address, of godlike wit, of elusive beauty; the charm of her countenance unspoken authority, her gesture command. She seems one with nature, yet commanding it. Food placed before her remains untasted; the oven, imu, ²² in which the fascinated host has heaped his abundance, preparing for a feast, when opened is found empty; the guest of an hour has disappeared. Again it was a goddess, perhaps of the hula. Or, again, a traveler meets a creature of divine beauty, all smiles and loveliness. The infatuated mortal, smitten with hopeless passion, offers blandishments; he finds himself by the roadside embracing a rock. It was a goddess of the hula.

The gods, great and small, superior and inferior, whom the devotees and practitioners of the hula worshiped and sought to placate were many; but the goddess Laka was the one to whom they offered special prayers and sacrifices and to whom they looked as the patron, the au-makua, ²³ of that institution. It was for her benefit and in her honor that the kuahu was set up, and the wealth of flower and leaf used in its decoration was emblematic of her beauty and glory, a pledge of her bodily presence, the very forms that she, a sylvan deity, was wont to assume when she pleased to manifest herself.

As an additional crutch to the imagination and to emphasize the fact of her real presence on the altar which she had been invoked to occupy as her abode, she was symbolized by an uncarved block of wood from the sacred lama ²⁴ tree. This was wrapped in a robe of choice yellow tapa, scented with turmeric, and set conspicuously upon the altar.

Footnote 22: (return) Imu. The Hawaiian oven, which was a hole in the ground lined and arched over with stones.

Footnote 23: (return) Au-makua. An ancestral god.

Footnote 24: (return) Lama. A beautiful tree having firm, fine-grained, white wood; used in making sacred inclosures and for other tabu purposes.

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Laka was invoked as the god of the maile, the ie-ie, and other wildwood growths before mentioned (pl. II). She was hailed as the “sister, wife, of god Lono,” as “the one who by striving attained favor with the gods of the upper ether;” as “the kumu ²⁵ hula”—head teacher of the Terpsichorean art; “the fount of joy;” “the prophet who brings health to the sick;” “the one whose presence gives life.” In one of the prayers to Laka she is besought to come and take possession of the worshiper, to dwell in him as in a temple, to inspire him in all his parts and faculties—voice, hands, feet, the whole body.

Laka seems to have been a friend, but not a relative, of the numerous Pele family. So far as the author has observed, the fiery goddess is never invited to grace the altar with her presence, nor is her name so much as mentioned in any prayer met with.

To compare the gods of the Hawaiian pantheon with those of classic Greece, the sphere occupied by Laka corresponds most nearly to that filled by Terpsichore and Euterpe, the muses, respectively, of dance and of song. Lono, in one song spoken of as the husband of Laka, had features in common with Apollo.

That other gods, Kane, Ku, Kanaloa, ²⁶ with Lono, Ku-pulupulu, ²⁷ and the whole swarm of godlings that peopled the wildwood, were also invited to favor the performances with their presence can be satisfactorily explained on the ground, first, that all the gods were in a sense members of one family, related to each other by intermarriage, if not by the ties of kinship; and, second, by the patent fact of that great underlying cause of bitterness and strife among immortals as well as mortals, jealousy. It would have been an eruptive occasion of heart-burning and scandal if by any mischance a privileged one should have had occasion to feel slighted; and to have failed in courtesy to that countless host of wilderness imps and godlings, the Kini Akua, ²⁸ mischievous and irreverent as the monkeys of India, would indeed have been to tempt a disaster.

While it is true that the testimony of the various kumu-hula, teachers of the hula, and devotees of the art of the hula, so far as the author has talked with them, has been overwhelmingly to the effect that Laka was the one and only divine patron of the art known to them, there has been a small number equally ready to assert that there were those who observed the cult of the goddess Kapo and worshiped her Page 25 as the patron of the hula. The positive testimony of these witnesses must be reckoned as of more weight than the negative testimony of a much larger number, who either have not seen or will not look at the other side of the shield. At any rate, among the prayers before the kuahu, of which there are others yet to be presented, will be found several addressed to Kapo as the divine patron of the hula.

Footnote 25: (return) The teacher, a leader and priest of the hula. The modern school-master is called kumu-kula.

Footnote 26: (return) Kanaloa. Kane, Ku, Kanaloa, and Lono were the major gods of the Hawaiian pantheon.

Footnote 27: (return) Ku-pulupulu. A god of the canoe-makers.

Footnote 28: (return) Kini Akua. A general expression—often used together with the ones that follow—meaning the countless swarms of brownies, elfs, kobolds, sprites, and other godlings (mischievous imps) that peopled the wilderness. Kini means literally 40,000, lehu 400,000, and mano 4,000. See the Pule Kuahu—altar-prayer—on page 21. The Hawaiians, curiously enough, did not put the words mano, kini, and lehu in the order of their numerical value.

Kapo was sister of Pele and the daughter of Haumea. ²⁹ Among other roles played by her, like Laka she was at times a sylvan deity, and it was in the garb of woodland representations that she was worshiped by hula folk. Her forms of activity, corresponding to her different metamorphoses, were numerous, in one of which she was at times “employed by the kahuna ³⁰ as a messenger in their black arts, and she is claimed by many as an aumakua,” ³¹ said to be the sister of Kalai-pahoa, the poison god.

Footnote 29: (return) Haumea. The ancient goddess, or ancestor, the sixth in line of descent from Wakea.

Footnote 30: (return) Kahuna. A sorcerer; with a qualifying adjective it meant a skilled craftsman; Kahuna-kalai-wa’a was a canoe-builder; kahuna lapaau was a medicine-man, a doctor, etc.

Footnote 31: (return) The Lesser Gods of Hawaii, a paper by Joseph S. Emerson, read before the Hawaiian Historical Society, April 7, 1892.

Unfortunately Kapo had an evil name on account of a propensity which led her at times to commit actions that seem worthy only of a demon of lewdness. This was, however, only the hysteria of a moment, not the settled habit of her life. On one notable occasion, by diverting the attention of the bestial pig-god Kama-pua’a, and by vividly presenting to him a temptation well adapted to his gross nature, she succeeded in enticing him away at a critical moment, and thus rescued her sister Pele at a time when the latter’s life was imperiled by an unclean and violent assault from the swine-god.

Like Catherine of Russia, who in one mood was the patron of literature and of the arts and sciences and in another mood a very satyr, so the Hawaiian goddess Kapo seems to have lived a double life whose aims were at cross purposes with one another—now an angel of grace and beauty, now a demon of darkness and lust.

Do we not find in this the counterpart of nature’s twofold aspect, who presents herself to dependent humanity at one time as an alma mater, the food-giver, a divinity of joy and comfort, at another time as the demon of the storm and earthquake, a plowshare of fiery destruction?

The name of Hiiaka, the sister of Pele, is one often mentioned in the prayers of the hula.

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IV.—SUPPORT AND ORGANIZATION OF THE HULA

In ancient times the hula to a large extent was a creature of royal support, and for good reason. The actors in this institution were not producers of life’s necessaries. To the alii belonged the land and the sea and all the useful products thereof. Even the jetsam whale-tooth and wreckage scraps of iron that ocean cast up on the shore were claimed by the lord of the land. Everything was the king’s. Thus it followed of necessity that the support of the hula must in the end rest upon the alii. As in ancient Rome it was a senator or general, enriched by the spoil of a province, who promoted the sports of the arena, so in ancient Hawaii it was the chief or headman of the district who took the initiative in the promotion of the people’s communistic sports and of the hula.

We must not imagine that the hula was a thing only of kings’ courts and chiefish residences. It had another and democratic side. The passion for the hula was broadspread. If other agencies failed to meet the demand, there was nothing to prevent a company of enthusiasts from joining themselves together in the pleasures and, it might be, the profits of the hula. Their spokesman—designated as the po’o-puaa, from the fact that a pig, or a boar’s head, was required of him as an offering at the kuahu—was authorized to secure the services of some expert to be their kumu. But with the hula all roads lead to the king’s court.

Let us imagine a scene at the king’s residence. The alii, rousing from his sloth and rubbing his eyes, rheumy with debauch and awa, overhears remark on the doings of a new company of hula dancers who have come into the neighborhood. He summons his chief steward.

“What is this new thing of which they babble?” he demands.

“It is nothing, son of heaven,” answers the kneeling steward.

“They spoke of a hula. Tell me, what is it?”

“Ah, thou heaven-born (lani), it was but a trifle—a new company, young graduates of the halau, have set themselves up as great ones; mere rustics; they have no proper acquaintance with the traditions of the art as taught by the bards of... your majesty’s father. They mouth and twist the old songs all awry, thou son of heaven.”

“Enough. I will hear them to-morrow. Send a messenger for this new kumu. Fill again my bowl with awa.” Page 27 Thus it comes about that the new hula company gains audience at court and walks the road that, perchance, leads to fortune. Success to the men and women of the hula means not merely applause, in return for the incense of flattery; it means also a shower of substantial favors—food, garments, the smile of royalty, perhaps land—things that make life a festival. If welcome grows cold and it becomes evident that the harvest has been reaped, they move on to fresh woods and pastures new.

To return from this apparent digression, it was at the king’s court—if we may extend the courtesy of this phrase to a group of thatched houses—that were gathered the bards and those skilled in song, those in whose memories were stored the mythologies, traditions, genealogies, proverbial wisdom, and poetry that, warmed by emotion, was the stuff from which was spun the songs of the hula. As fire is produced by friction, so it was often by the congress of wits rather than by the flashing of genius that the songs of the hula were evolved.

The composition and criticism of a poetical passage were a matter of high importance, often requiring many suggestions and much consultation. If the poem was to be a mele-inoa, a name-song to eulogize some royal or princely scion, it must contain no word of ill-omen. The fate-compelling power of such a word, once shot from the mouth, was beyond recall. Like the incantation of the sorcerer, the kahuna ánaaná, it meant death to the eulogized one. If not, it recoiled on the life of the singer.

The verbal form once settled, it remained only to stereotype it on the memories of the men and women who constituted the literary court or conclave. Think not that only thus were poems produced in ancient Hawaii. The great majority of songs were probably the fruit of solitary inspiration, in which the bard poured out his heart like a song-bird, or uttered his lone vision as a seer. The method of poem production in conclave may be termed the official method. It was often done at the command of an alii. So much for the fabrication, the weaving, of a song.

If the composition was intended as a eulogy, it was cantillated ceremoniously before the one it honored; if in anticipation of a prince yet unborn, it was daily recited before the mother until the hour of her delivery; and this cantillation published it abroad. If the song was for production in the hula, it lay warm in the mind of the kumu, the master and teacher of the hula, until such time as he had organized his company.

The court of the alii was a vortex that drew in not only the bards and men of lore, but the gay and fashionable rout of pleasure-seekers, the young men and women of shapely form and gracious presence, the sons and daughters of the king’s Page 28 henchmen and favorites; among them, perhaps, the offspring of the king’s morganatic alliances and amours—the flower and pick of Hawaii’s youth. From these the kumu selected those most fitted by beauty and grace of form, as well as quickness of wit and liveliness of imagination, to take part in the hula.

The performers in the hula were divided into two classes, the olapa—agile ones—and the ho’o-paa—steadfast ones. The rôle of olapa, as was fitting, was assigned to the young men and young women who could best illustrate in their persons the grace and beauty of the human form. It was theirs, sometimes while singing, to move and pose and gesture in the dance; sometimes also to punctuate their song and action with the lighter instruments of music. The rôle of ho’o-paa, on the other hand, was given to men and women of greater experience and of more maturity. They handled the heavier instruments and played their parts mostly while sitting or kneeling, marking the time with their instrumentation. They also lent their voices to swell the chorus or utter the refrain of certain songs, sometimes taking the lead in the song or bearing its whole burden, while the light-footed olapa gave themselves entirely to the dance. The part of the ho’o-paa was indeed the heavier, the more exacting duty.

Such was the personnel of a hula troupe when first gathered by the hula-master for training and drill in the halau, now become a school for the hula. Among the pupils the kumu was sure to find some old hands at the business, whose presence, like that of veterans in a squad of recruits, was a leaven to inspire the whole company with due respect for the spirit and traditions of the historic institution and to breed in the members the patience necessary to bring them to the highest proficiency.

The instruction of the kumu, as we are informed, took a wide range. It dealt in elaborate detail on such matters as accent, inflection, and all that concerns utterance and vocalization. It naturally paid great attention to gesture and pose, attitude and bodily action. That it included comment on the meaning that lay back of the words may be gravely doubted. The average hula dancer of modern times shows great ignorance of the mele he recites, and this is true even of the kumu-hula. His work too often is largely perfunctory, a matter of sound and form, without appeal to the intellect.

It would not be legitimate, however, to conclude from this that ignorance of the meaning was the rule in old times; those were the days when the nation’s traditional songs, myths, and lore formed the equipment of every alert and receptive mind, chief or commoner. There was no printed page to while away the hours of idleness. The library was stored in one’s memory. The language of the mele, which now has Page 29 become antiquated, then was familiar speech. For a kumu-hula to have given instruction in the meaning of a song would have been a superfluity, as if one at the present day were to inform a group of well-educated actors and actresses who was Pompey or Julius Cæsar.

“Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue.” Hamlet’s words to the players were, it may be supposed, the substance of the kumu’s instructions to the pupils in his halau.

The organization of a hula company was largely democratic. The kumu—in modern sense, the teacher—was the leader and conductor, responsible for the training and discipline of the company. He was the business manager of the enterprise; the priest, kahuna, the leader in the religious exercises, the one who interpreted the will of heaven, especially of the gods whose favor determined success. He might be called to his position by the choice of the company, appointed by the command of the alii who promoted the enterprise, or self-elected in case the enterprise was his own. He had under him a kokua kumu, a deputy, who took charge during his absence.

The po’o-puaa was an officer chosen by the pupils to be their special agent and mouthpiece. He saw to the execution of the kumu’s judgments and commands, collected the fines, and exacted the penalties imposed by the kumu. It fell to him to convey to the altar the presents of garlands, awa, and the like that were contributed to the halau.

The paepae, also chosen by the pupils, subject to confirmation by the kumu, acted as an assistant of the po’o-puaa. During the construction of the kuahu the po’o-puaa stood to the right, the paepae at his left. They were in a general sense guardians of the kuahu.

The ho’o-ulu was the guard stationed at the door. He sprinkled with sea-water mixed with turmeric everyone who entered the halau. He also acted as sergeant-at-arms to keep order and remove anyone who made a disturbance. It was his duty each day to place a fresh bowl of awa on the altar of the goddess (hanai kuahu), literally to feed the altar.

In addition to these officials, a hula company naturally required the services of a miscellaneous retinue of stewards, cooks, fishermen, hewers of wood, and drawers of water.

RULES OF CONDUCT AND TABUS

Without a body of rules, a strict penal code, and a firm hand to hold in check the hot bloods of both sexes, it would have been impossible to keep order and to accomplish the business purpose of the organization. The explosive force of passion would have made the gathering a signal for the breaking loose of pandemonium. That it did not always so result is a Page 30 compliment alike to the self-restraint of the people and to the sway that artistic ideals held over their minds, but, above all, to a peculiar system of discipline wisely adapted to the necessities of human nature. It does not seem likely that a Thespian band of our own race would have held their passions under equal check if surrounded by the same temptations and given the same opportunities as these Polynesians. It may well be doubted if the bare authority of the kumu would have sufficed to maintain discipline and to keep order, had it not been reenforced by the dread powers of the spirit world in the shape of the tabu.

The awful grasp of this law; this repressive force, the tabu, held fast the student from the moment of his entrance into the halau. It denied this pleasure, shut off that innocent indulgence, curtailed liberty in this direction and in that. The tabu waved before his imagination like a flaming sword, barring approach to the Eden of his strongest propensity.

The rules and discipline of the halau, the school for the hula, from our point of view, were a mixture of shrewd common sense and whimsical superstition. Under the head of tabus certain articles of food were denied; for instance, the sugar-cane—ko—was forbidden. The reason assigned was that if one indulged in it his work as a practitioner would amount to nothing; in the language of the kumu, aohe e leo ana kana mau hana, his work will be a failure. The argument turned on the double meaning of the word ko, the first meaning being sugar cane, the second, accomplishment. The Hawaiians were much impressed by such whimsical nominalisms. Yet there is a backing of good sense to the rule. Anyone who has chewed the sweet stalk can testify that for some time thereafter his voice is rough, ill-fitted for singing or elocution.

The strictest propriety and decorum were exacted of the pupils; there must be no license whatever. Even married people during the weeks preceding graduation must observe abstinence toward their partners. The whole power of one’s being must be devoted to the pursuit of art.

The rules demanded also the most punctilious personal cleanliness. Above all things, one must avoid contact with a corpse. Such defilement barred one from entrance to the halau until ceremonial cleansing had been performed. The offender must bathe in the ocean; the kumu then aspersed him with holy water, uttered a prayer, ordered a penalty, an offering to the kuahu, and declared the offender clean. This done, he was again received into fellowship at the halau.

The ordinary penalty for a breach of ceremony or an offense against sexual morality was the offering of a baked porkling with awa. Since the introduction of money the penalty has generally been reckoned on a commercial basis; a money fine is imposed. The offering of pork and awa is retained as a concession to tradition.

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V—CEREMONIES OF GRADUATION; DÉBUT OF A HULA DANCER

CEREMONIES OF GRADUATION

The ai-lolo rite and ceremony marked the consummation of a pupil’s readiness for graduation from the school of the halau and his formal entrance into the guild of hula dancers. As the time drew near, the kumu tightened the reins of discipline, and for a few days before that event no pupil might leave the halau save for the most stringent necessity, and then only with the head muffled (pulo’u) to avoid recognition, and he might engage in no conversation whatever outside the halau.

The night preceding the day of ai-lolo was devoted to special services of dance and song. Some time after midnight the whole company went forth to plunge into the ocean, thus to purge themselves of any lurking ceremonial impurity. The progress to the ocean and the return they made in complete nudity. “Nakedness is the garb of the gods.” On their way to and from the bath they must not look back, they must not turn to the right hand or to the left.

The kumu, as the priest, remained at the halau, and as the procession returned from the ocean he met it at the door and sprinkled each one (pikai) with holy water. Then came another period of dance and song; and then, having cantillated a pule hoonoa, to lift the tabu, the kumu went forth to his own ceremonial cleansing bath in the sea. During his absence his deputy, the kokua kumu, took charge of the halau. When the kumu reached the door on his return, he made himself known by reciting a mele wehe puka, the conventional password.

Still another exercise of song and dance, and the wearied pupils are glad to seek repose. Some will not even remove the short dancing skirts that are girded about them, so eager are they to snatch an hour of rest; and some lie down with bracelets and anklets yet unclasped.

At daybreak the kumu rouses the company with the tap of the drum. After ablutions, before partaking of their simple breakfast, the company stand before the altar and recite a tabu-removing prayer, accompanying the cantillation with a rhythmic tapping of feet and clapping of hands:

Pule Hoonoa

[Translation.]

Tabu-lifting Prayer

Footnote 32: (return) Lu ka hua. Casts now its seeds. The maile vine (pl. IV), one of the goddess’s emblems, casts its seeds, meaning that the goddess gives the pupils skill and inspires them.

At the much-needed repast to which the company now sit down there may be present a gathering of friends and relatives and of hula experts, called olóhe. Soon the porkling chosen to be the ai-lólo offering is brought in—a black suckling without spot or blemish. The kumu holds it down while all the pupils gather and lay their hands upon his hands; and he expounds to them the significance of the ceremony. If they consecrate themselves to the work in hand in sincerity and with true hearts, memory will be strong and the training, the knowledge, and the songs that have been intrusted to the memory will stay. If they are heedless, regardless of their vows, the songs they have learned will fly away.

The ceremony is long and impressive; many songs are used. Sometimes, it was claimed, the prayers of the kumu at this laying on of hands availed to cause the death of the little animal. On the completion of the ceremony the offering is taken out and made ready for the oven.

One of the first duties of the day is the dismantling of the old kuahu, the shrine, and the construction of another from new materials as a residence for the goddess. While night yet shadows the earth the attendants and friends of the pupils Page 33 have gone up into the mountains to collect the material for the new shrine. The rustic artists, while engaged in this loving work of building and weaving the new kuahu, cheer and inspire one another with joyful songs vociferous with the praise of Laka. The halau also they decorate afresh, strewing the floor with clean rushes, until the whole place enthralls the senses like a bright and fragrant temple.

The kumu now grants special dispensation to the pupils to go forth that they may make good the results of the neglect of the person incident to long confinement in the halau. For days, for weeks, perhaps for months, they have not had full opportunity to trim hair, nails, or beard, to anoint and groom themselves. They use this short absence from the hall also to supply themselves with wreaths of fragrant maile, crocus-yellow ilima, scarlet-flaming lehua, fern, and what not.

At the appointed hour the pupils, wreathed and attired like nymphs and dryads, assemble in the halau, sweet with woodsy perfumes. At the door they receive aspersion with consecrated water.

The ai-lolo offering, cooked to a turn—no part raw, no part cracked or scorched—is brought in from the imu, its bearer sprinkled by the guard at the entrance. The kumu, having inspected the roast offering and having declared it ceremonially perfect, gives the signal, and the company break forth in songs of joy and of adulation to goddess Laka:

Mele Kuau

Footnote 33:(return) Mo’o-helaia. A female deity, a kupua, who at death became one of the divinities, au-makua, of the hula. Her name was conferred on the place claimed as her residence, on Mauna-loa, island of Molokai.

Footnote 34:(return) Ohia-Ku. Full name ohia-ku-makua; a variety of the ohìa, or lehua (pl. XIII), whose wood was used in making temple gods. A rough stem of this tree stood on each side near the hala-pepe. (See pl. III, also pp. 19-20.)

Footnote 35:(return) Mauna-loa. Said to be the mountain of that name on Molokai, not that on Hawaii.

Footnote 36:(return) Kaulana-ula. Full form Kaulana-a-ula; the name of a deity belonging to the order, papa, of the hula. Its meaning is explained in the expression ula leo, in the next line.

Footnote 37:(return) Ula leo. A singing or trilling sound, a tinnitus aurium, a sign that the deity Kaulanaula was making some communication to the one who heard it.

“By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes.”

Page 34

[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer

There is no stint of prayer-song. While the offering rests on the kuahu, the Joyful service continues:

Mele Kuahu

[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer

At the conclusion of this loving service of worship and song each member of the troupe removes from his head and neck the wreaths that had bedecked him, and with them crowns the image of the goddess until her altar is heaped with the offerings.

Now comes the pith of the ceremony: the novitiates sit down to the feast of ai-lolo, theirs the place of honor, at the head of the table, next the kuahu. The ho’o-pa’a, acting as carver, selects the typical parts—snout, ear-tips, tail, feet, portions of the vital organs, especially the brain (lolo). This last it is which gives name to the ceremony. He sets an equal portion before each novitiate. Each one must eat all that is set before him. It is a mystical rite, a sacrament; as he eats he consciously partakes of the virtue of the goddess that is transmitted to himself. Page 35

Meantime the olohe and friends of the novitiates, inspired with the proper enthusiasm, of the occasion, lift their voices in joyful cantillations in honor of the goddess, accompanied with the clapping of hands.

The ceremony now reaches a new stage. The kumu lifts the tabu by uttering a prayer—always a song—and declares the place and the feast free, and the whole assembly sit down to enjoy the bounty that is spread up and down the halau. On this occasion men and women may eat in common. The only articles excluded from this feast are luau—a food much like spinach, made by cooking the young and delicate taro leaf—and the drupe of the hala, the pandanus (pl. xviii).

The company sit down to eat and to drink; presently they rise to dance and sing. The kumu leads in a tabu-lifting, freedom-giving song and the ceremony of ai-lolo is over. The pupils have been graduated from the school of the halau; they are now members of the great guild of hula dancers. The time has come for them to make their bow to the waiting public outside, to bid for the favor of the world. This is to be their “little go;” they will spread their wings for a greater flight on the morrow.

The kumu with his big drum, and the musicians, the ho’o-pa’a, pass through the door and take their places outside in the lanai, where sit the waiting multitude. At the tap of the drum the group of waiting olapa plume themselves like fine birds eager to show their feathers; and, as they pass out the halau door and present themselves to the breathless audience, into every pose and motion of their gliding, swaying figures they pour a full tide of emotion in studied and unstudied effort to captivate the public.

DÉBUT OF A HULA DANCER

The occasion is that of a lifetime; it is their uniki, their debut. The song chosen must rise to the dignity of the occasion. Let us listen to the song that enthralls the audience seated in the rushstrown lanai, that we may judge of its worthiness.

He Mele-Inoa (no Naihe) ³⁸

Footnote 38: (return) Naihe. A man of strong character, but not a high chief. He was horn in Kona and resided at Napoopoo. His mother was Ululani, his father Keawe-a-heulu, who was a celebrated general and strategist under Kamehameha I.

Footnote 39: (return) Mahiehie. A term conferring dignity and distinction.

Footnote 40: (return) Onaulu-loa. A roller of great length and endurance, one that reaches the shore, in contrast to a kakala.

Footnote 41: (return) Kalai. An archaic word meaning forty.

Footnote 42: (return) Hoaka. A crescent; the name of the second day of the month. The allusion is to the curve (downward) of a large number(kakai) of malo when hung on a line, the usual way of keeping such articles.

Footnote 43: (return) Malo kai. The ocean is sometimes poetically termed the malo or pa-á of the naked swimmer, or bather. It covers his nakedness.

Footnote 44: (return) Ka’ika’i. To lead or to carry; a tropical use of the word. The sun is described as leading the board.

Footnote 45: (return) Hale-pó. In the opinion of the author it is the name of the board. A skilled Hawaiian says it is the name given the surf of a place at Napoopoo, in Kona, Hawaii. The action is not located there, but in Puna, it seems to the author.

Footnote 46: (return) Kahiki. Tahiti, or any foreign country; a term of grandiloquence.

Footnote 47: (return) Wakea. A mythical name, coming early in Hawaiian genealogies; here used in exaggeration to show the age of the roller.

Footnote 48: (return) Ho’ohua. Applied to a roller, one that rolls on and swells higher.

Footnote 49: (return) Opu’u. Said of a roller that completes its run to shore.

Footnote 50: (return) Kua-pá. Said of a roller as above that dies at the shore.

Footnote 51: (return) Maka-kai. The springing-up of the surf after an interval of quiet.

Footnote 52: (return) Kakála. Rough, heaped up, one wave overriding another, a chop sea.

Footnote 53: (return) Hiki-au. Said to be the name of a temple.

Footnote 54: (return) Kuhihewa. Full name Ka-kuhi-hewa, a distinguished king of Oahu.

Footnote 55: (return) O iu. Meaning that the board dug its nose into the reef or sand.

[Translation.]

A Name-Song, a Eulogy (for Naihe)

This spirited song, while not a full description of a surf-riding scene, gives a vivid picture of that noble sport. The last nine verses have been omitted, as they add neither to the action nor to the interest.

It seems surprising that the accident spoken of in line 19 should be mentioned; for it is in glaring opposition to the canons that were usually observed in the composition of a mele-inoa. In the construction of a eulogy the Hawaiians were not only punctiliously careful to avoid mention of anything susceptible of sinister interpretation, but they were superstitiously sensitive to any such unintentional happening. As already mentioned (p. 27), they believed that the fate compelling power of a word of ill-omen was inevitable. If it did not result in the death of the one eulogized, retributive justice turned the evil influence back on him who uttered it.

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VI.—THE PASSWORD—THE SONG OF ADMISSION

There prevailed among the practitioners of the hula from one end of the group to the other a mutual understanding, amounting almost to a sort of freemasonry, which gave to any member of the guild the right of free entrance at all times to the hall, or halau, where a performance was under way. Admission was conditioned, however, on the utterance of a password at the door. A snatch of song, an oli, denominated mele kahea, or mele wehe puka, was chanted, which, on being recognized by those within, was answered in the same language of hyperbole, and the door was opened.

The verbal accuracy of any mele kahea that may be adduced is at the present day one of the vexed questions among hula authorities, each hula-master being inclined to maintain that the version given by another is incorrect. This remark applies, though in smaller measure, to the whole body of mele, pule, and oli that makes up the songs and liturgy of the hula as well as to the traditions that guided the maestro, or kumu-hula, in the training of his company. The reasons for these differences of opinion and of test, now that there is to be a written text, are explained by the following facts: The devotees and practitioners of the hula were divided into groups that were separated from one another by wide intervals of sea and land. They belonged quite likely to more than one cult, for indeed there were many gods and au-makua to whom they sacrificed and offered prayers. The passwords adopted by one generation or by the group of practitioners on one island might suffer verbal changes in transmission to a later generation or to a remote island.

Again, it should be remembered that the entire body of material forming the repertory of the hula—pule, mele, and oli—was intrusted to the keeping of the memory, without the aid of letters or, so far as known, of any mnemonic device; and the human mind, even under the most athletic discipline, is at best an imperfect conservator of literary form. The result was what might be expected: as the imagination and emotions of the minstrel warmed under the inspiration of his trust, glosses and amendments crept in. These, however, caused but slight variations in the text. The substance remains substantially the same.

After carefully weighing the matter, the author can not avoid the conclusion that jealousy had much to do with the slight differences now manifest, that one version is as Page 39 authoritative as another, and that it would be well for each kumu-hula to have kept in mind the wise adage that shines among the sayings of his nation: Aohe pau ka ike i kau halau ⁵⁶—“Think not that all of wisdom resides in you halau.” ⁵⁷

Footnote 56: (return) Sophocles (Antigone, 705) had said the same thing:[Greek: me nun en ethos pounon en sautô phorei ôs phes su, kouden allo, tout’ orphôs echein]—“Don’t get this idea fixed in your head, that what you say, and nothing else, is right.”

Footnote 57: (return) Halau. As previously explained, in this connection halau has a meaning similar to our word “school,” or “academy,” a place where some art was taught, as wrestling, boxing, or the hula.

Mele Kahea

[Translation.]

Password

Footnote 58: (return) Ka-papala. A verdant region on the southeastern flank of Mauna-Loa.

Hear now the answer chanted by voices from within:

Mele Komo

Page 40

[Translation.]

Song of Welcome

Another fragment that was sometimes used as a password is the following bit of song taken from the story of Hiiaka, sister of Pele. She is journeying with the beautiful Hopoe to fetch prince Lohiau to the court of Pele. They have come by a steep and narrow path to the brink of the Wai-lua river, Kauai, at this point spanned by a single plank. But the bridge is gone, removed by an ill-tempered naiad (witch) said to have come from Kahiki, whose name, Wai-lua, is the same as that of the stream. Hiiaka calls out, demanding that the plank be restored to its place. Wai-lua does not recognize the deity in Hiiaka and, sullen, makes no response. At this the goddess puts forth her strength, and Wai-lua, stripped of her power and reduced to her true station, that of a mo’o, a reptile, seeks refuge in the caverns beneath the river. Hiiaka betters the condition of the crossing by sowing it with stepping stones. The stones remain in evidence to this day.

Mele Kahea

[Translation.]

Password—Song

In later, in historic times, this visitor, whom we have kept long waiting at the door, might have voiced his appeal in the passionate words of this comparatively modern song:

Footnote 59: (return) Wai-ale-ale (Leaping-water). The central mountain-mass of Kauai.

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Mele Kahea ⁶⁰

[Translation.]

Password—Song

Footnote 60: (return) This utterance of passion is said to have been, the composition of the Princess-Kamamalu, as an address to Prince William Lunalilo, to whom she was at one time affianced and would have married, but that King Liholiho (Kamehameha IV) would not allow the marriage. Thereby hangs a tragedy.

Footnote 61: (return) La’a. The region in Hawaii now known as Ola’a was originally called La’a. The particle o has become fused with the word.

Footnote 62: (return) Hewa ka waha. This expression, here tortured into “(till) the mouth awry,” is difficult of translation. A skilled Hawaiian scholar suggests, it may mean to change one from, an enemy to a friend by stopping his mouth with food.

Footnote 63: (return) Wa’a. Literally a canoe. This is a euphemism for the human body, a gift often too freely granted. It will be noted that in the answering mele komo, the song of admission, the reward promised is more modestly measured—“Simply the voice.”

The answer to this appeal for admission was in these words:

Mele Komo

[Translation.]

Welcoming-Song

The cantillation of the mele komo: in answer to the visitor’s petition, meant not only the opening to him of the halau door, but also his welcome to the life of the halau as a heart-guest of honor, trebly welcome as the bringer of fresh tidings from the outside world.

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VII.—WORSHIP AT THE ALTAR OF THE HALAU

The first duty of a visitor on being admitted to the halau while the tabu was on—that is, during the conduct of a regular hula—was to do reverence at the kuahu. The obligations of religion took precedence of all social etiquette. He reverently approaches the altar, to which all eyes are turned, and with outstretched hands pours out a supplication that breathes the aroma of ancient prayer:

Pule Kuahu (no Laka)

Footnote 64: (return) A’a-lii. A deep-rooted tree, sacred to Laka or to Kapo.

Footnote 65: (return) Hoo-ulu. Literally to make grow; secondarily, to inspire, to prosper, to bring good luck. This is the meaning most in mind in modern times, since the hula has become a commercial venture.

Footnote 66: (return) Ki-ele. A flowering plant native to the Hawaiian woods, also cultivated, sacred to Laka, and perhaps to Kapo. The leaves are said to be pointed and curved like the beak of the bird i-iwi, and the flower has the gorgeous yellow-red color of that bird.

Footnote 67: (return) It has been proposed to amend this verse by substituting akua, for ku’i, thus making the idea the gods of the hula.

Footnote 68: (return) Haí-ka-malama. An epithet applied to Laka.

Footnote 69: (return) Kina’u. Said to mean Hiiaka, the sister of Pele.

Footnote 70: (return) Kapo ula. Red, ula, was the favorite color of Kapo. The kahuna anaana, high priests of sorcery, of the black art, and of murder, to whom Kapo was at times procuress, made themselves known as such by the display of a red flag and the wearing of a red malo.

[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer (to Laka)

A single prayer may not suffice as the offering at Laka’s altar. His repertory is full; the visitor begins anew, this time on a different tack:

Pule Kuahu (no Laka)

[Translation.]

Altar-Prayer (to Laka)

Footnote 71:(return) Lea. The same as Laia, or probably Haumea.

Footnote 72:(return) Wahie loa. This must be a mistake. Laka the son of Wahie-loa was a great voyager. His canoe (kau-méli-éli) was built for him by the gods. In it he sailed to the South to rescue his father’s bones from the witch who had murdered him. This Laka had his home at Kipahulu, Maui, and is not to be confounded with Laka, goddess of the hula.

In the translation of this pule the author has found it necessary to depart from the verse arrangement that obtains in the Hawaiian text.

The religious services of the halau, though inspired by one motive, were not tied to a single ritual or to one set of prayers. Prayer marked the beginning and the ending of every play—that is, of every dance—and of every important event in the programme of the halau; but there were many prayers from which the priest might select. After the prayer specially addressed to Laka the visitor might use a petition of more general scope. Such is ’the one now to be given:

He Pule Kuahu (ia Kane ame Kapo); a he Pule Hoolei

Footnote 73: (return) Maláma. Accented on the penult, as here, the word means to enlighten or a light (same in second verse). In the third and fourth verses the accent is changed to the first syllable, and the word here means to preserve, to foster. These words furnish an example of poetical word-repetition.

Footnote 74: (return) Onioni. To squirm, to dodge, to move. The meaning here seems to be to move with delight.

Footnote 75: (return) Wahine lei. A reference to Laka, the child of Kapo, who was symbolized by a block of wood on the altar. (See p. 23.)

Footnote 76: (return) Hala-hala a i’a. Said to be a certain kind of fish that was ornamented about its tailend with a band of bright color; therefore an object of admiration and desire.

Footnote 77: (return) Hala-Hala a mea. The ending mea is perhaps taken from the last half of the proper name Hau-mea who was Kapo’s mother. It belongs to the land, in contrast to the sea, and seems to be intended to intensify and extend the meaning of the term previously used. The passage is difficult. Expert Hawaiians profess their inability to fathom its meaning.

Footnote 78: (return) Alihi luna. The line or “stretching cord,” that runs the length of a net at its top, the a lalo being the corresponding line at the bottom of the net. The exact significance of this language complimentary to Kapo can not be phrased compactly.

Footnote 79: (return) Poha-kú. The line that runs up and down at the end of a long net, by which it may be anchored.

Footnote 80: (return) Moo-helaia. See note a, p. 33.

Footnote 81: (return) Kaulana-a-ula. See note d, p, 33.

Footnote 82: (return) Ula leo. See note e, p. 33.

Footnote 83: (return) Kaana. A place on Mauna-loa, Molokai, where the lehua greatly flourished. The body of Kapo, it is said, now lies there in appearance a rock. The same claim is made for a rock at Wailua, Hana, Maui.

Footnote 84: (return) Pu-awa hiwa (hiwa, black). A kind of strong awa. The gentle exhilaration, as well as the deep sleep, of awa were benefits ascribed to the gods. Awa was an essential to most complete sacrifices.

Footnote 85: (return) Wai. Literally water, refers to the bowl of awa, replenished each day, which set on the altar of the goddess.

Verses 9 to 15, inclusive, are almost identical in form with the first seven verses in the Mele Kuahu addressed to Laka, given on page 33.

[Translation.]

An Altar-Prayer (to Kane and Kapo): also a Garland-Prayer, used while decorating the altar

The little god-folk, whom the ancients called Kini Akua—myriads of gods—and who made the wildwoods and wilderness their playground, must also be placated. They were a lawless set of imps; the elfins, brownies, and kobolds of our fairy world were not “up to them” in wanton deviltry. If there is to be any luck in the house, it can only be when they are dissuaded from outbreaking mischief.

The pule next given is a polite invitation to these little brown men of the woods to honor the occasion with their presence and to bring good luck at their coming. It is such a prayer as the visitor might choose to repeat at this time, or it might be used on other occasions, as at the consecration of the kuahu:

He Pule Kuahu (no Kini Akua)

[Translation.]

An Altar-Prayer (to the Kini Akua)

The visitor, having satisfied his sense of what the occasion demands, changes his tone from that of cantillation to ordinary speech, and concludes his worship with a petition conceived in the spirit of the following prayer:

E ola ia’u, i ka malihini; a pela hoi na kamaaina, ke kumu, na haumana, ia oe, e Laka. E Laka ia Pohaku i ka wawae. E Laka i ke kupe’e. E Laka ia Luukia i ka pa-u; e Laka i ke kuhi; e Laka i ka leo; e Laka i ka lei. E Laka i ke ku ana imua o ke anaina.

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[Translation.]

Thy blessing, O Laka, on me the stranger, and on the residents, teacher and pupils. O Laka, give grace to the feet of Pohaku; and to her bracelets and anklets; comeliness to the figure and skirt of Luukia. To (each one) give gesture and voice. O Laka, make beautiful the lei; inspire the dancers when they stand before the assembly.

At the close of this service of song and prayer the visitor will turn from the kuahu and exchange salutations and greetings with his friends in the halau.

The song-prayer “Now, Kane, approach, illumine the altar” (p. 45) calls for remark. It brings up again the question, previously discussed, whether there were not two distinct cults of worshipers, the one devoted to Laka, the other to Kapo. The following facts will throw light on the question. On either side of the approach to the altar stood, sentinel-like, a tall stem of hala-pepe, a graceful, slender column, its head of green sword-leaves and scarlet drupes making a beautiful picture. (See p. 24.) These are said to have been the special emblems of the goddess Kapo.

The following account of a conversation the author had with an old woman, whose youthful days were spent as a hula dancer, will also help to disentangle the subject and explain the relation of Kapo to the hula:

“Will you not recite again the prayer you just now uttered, and slowly, that it may be written down?” the author asked of her. “Many prayers for the kuahu have been collected, but this one differs from them all.”

“We Hawaiians,” she answered, “have been taught that these matters are sacred (kapu) and must not be bandied about from mouth to mouth.”

“Aye, but the time of the tabus has passed. Then, too, in a sense having been initiated into hula matters, there can be no impropriety in my dealing with them in a kindly spirit.”

“No harm, of course, will come to you, a haole (foreigner). The question is how it will affect us.”

“Tell me, were there two different classes of worshipers, one class devoted to the worship of Laka and another class devoted to the worship of Kapo?”

“No,” she answered, “Kapo and Laka were one in spirit, though their names were two.”

“Haumea was the mother of Kapo. Who was her father?”

“Yes, Haumea was the mother, and Kua-ha-ilo ⁸⁶ was the father:”

“How about Laka?”

Footnote 86: (return) Kua-ha-ilo. A god of the kahuna anaana; meaning literally to breed maggots in the back.

Page 48

“Laka was the daughter of Kapo. Yet as a patron, of the hula Laka stands first; she was worshiped at an earlier date than Kapo; but they are really one.”

Further questioning brought out the explanation that Laka was not begotten in ordinary generation; she was a sort of emanation from Kapo. It was as if the goddess should sneeze and a deity should issue with the breath from her nostrils; or should wink, and thereby beget spiritual offspring from the eye, or as if a spirit should issue forth at some movement of the ear or mouth.

When the old woman’s scruples had been laid to rest, she repeated slowly for the author’s benefit the pule given on pages 45 and 46, “Now, Kane, approach,” * * * of which the first eight lines and much of the last part, to him, were new.

Page 49

VIII.—COSTUME OF THE HULA DANCER

The costume of the hula dancer was much the same for both sexes, its chief article a simple short skirt about the waist, the pa-ú. (PL I.)

When the time has come for a dance, the halau becomes one common dressing room. At a signal from the kumu the work begins. The putting on of each article of costume is accompanied by a special song.

First come the ku-pe’e, anklets of whale teeth, bone, shell-work, dog-teeth, fiber-stuffs, and what not. While all stoop in unison they chant the song of the anklet:

Mele Ku-pe’e

[Translation.]

Anklet-Song

Footnote 87: (return) Kupukupu. Said to be a fragrant grass.

Footnote 88: (return) Kane-hoa. Said to be a hill at Kaupo, Maul. Another person says it is a hill at Lihue, on Oahu. The same name is often repeated.

Footnote 89: (return) Ho-a. To bind. An instance of word-repetition, common in Hawaiian poetry.

Footnote 90: (return) Wai-kaloa. A cool wind that Wows at Lihue, Kauai

Footnote 91: (return) Alina. A scar, or other mark of disfigurement, a moral blemish. In ancient times lovers inflicted injuries on themselves to prove devotion.

The short skirt, pa-u, was the most important piece of attire worn by the Hawaiian female. As an article of daily wear it represented many stages of evolution beyond the primitive fig-leaf, being fabricated from a great variety of Page 50 materials furnished by the garden of nature. In its simplest terms the pa-ú was a mere fringe of vegetable fibers. When placed as the shield of modesty about the loins of a woman of rank, or when used as the full-dress costume of a dancing girl on a ceremonious occasion, it took on more elaborate forms, and was frequently of tapa, a fabric the finest specimens of which would not have shamed the wardrobe of an empress.

In the costuming of the hula girl the same variety obtained as in the dress of a woman of rank. Sometimes her pa-ú would be only a close-set fringe of ribbons stripped from the bark of the hibiscus (hau), the ti leaf or banana fiber, or a fine rush, strung upon a thong to encircle the waist. In its most elaborate and formal style the pa-ú consisted of a strip of fine tapa several yards long and of width to reach nearly to the knees. It was often delicately tinted or printed, as to its outer part, with stamped figures. The part of the tapa skirt thus printed, like the outer, decorative one in a set of tapa bed-sheets, was termed the kilohana.

The pa-ú worn by the danseuse, when of tapa, was often of such volume as to balloon like the skirt of a coryphée. To put it on was quite an art, and on that account, if not on the score of modesty, a portion of the halau, was screened off and devoted to the use of the females as a dressing room, being known as the unu-lau-koa, and to this place they repaired as soon as the kumu gave the signal for dressing.

The hula pa-ú of the women was worn in addition to that of daily life; the hula pa-ú of the men, a less pretentious affair, was worn outside the malo, and in addition to it.

The method of girding on the pa-ú was peculiar. Beginning at the right hip—some say the left—a free end was allowed to hang quite to the knee; then, passing across the back, rounding the left hip, and returning by way of the abdomen to the starting point, another circuit of the waist was accomplished; and, a reverse being made, the garment was secured by passing the bight of the tapa beneath the hanging folds of the pa-ú from below upward until it slightly protruded above the border of the garment at the waist. This second end was thus brought to hang down the hip alongside of the first free end; an arrangement that produced a most decorative effect.

The Hawaiians, in their fondness for giving personal names to inanimate objects, named the two free ends (apua) of the pa-ú respectively Ku-kápu-úla-ka-láni and Léle-a-mahu’i.

According to another method, which was simpler and more commonly employed, the piece was folded sidewise and, being gathered into pleats, a cord was inserted the length of the fold. The cord was passed about the waist, knotted at the hip, and thus held the garment secure.

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While the girls are making their simple toilet and donning their unique, but scanty, costume, the kumu, aided by others, soothes the impatience of the audience and stimulates their imagination by cantillating a mele that sets forth in grandiloquent imagery the praise of the pa-ú.

Oli Pa-ú

Footnote 92: (return) Kikepa. The bias, the one-sided slant given the pa-ú by tucking it in at one side, as previously described.

Footnote 93: (return) Imu. An oven; an allusion to the heat and passion of the part covered by the pa-ú.

Footnote 94: (return) Hu’a. Foam; figurative of the fringe at the border of the pa-ú.

Footnote 95: (return) Kuina. A term applied to the five sheets that were stitched together (kui) to make a set of bed-clothes. Five turns also, it is said, complete a pa-ú.

Footnote 96: (return) Pali no Kupe-Hau. Throughout the poem the pa-ú is compared to a pali, a mountain wall. Kupe-hau is a precipitous part of Wai-pi’o valley.

Footnote 97: (return) Hono-kane. A valley near Wai-pi’o. Here it is personified and said to do the work on the pa-ú.

Footnote 98: (return) Manú. A proper name given to this pa-ú.

Footnote 99: (return)

Kau-kini. The name of a hill back of Lahaina-luna, the traditional residence of a kahuna named Lua-hoo-moe, whose two sons were celebrated for their manly beauty. Ole-pau, the king of the island Maui, ordered his retainer, Lua-hoo-moe, to fetch for his eating some young u-a’u, a sea-bird that nests and rears its young in the mountains. These young birds are esteemed a delicacy. The kahuna, who was a bird-hunter, truthfully told the king that it was not the season for the young birds; the parent birds were haunting the ocean. At this some of the king’s boon companions, moved by ill-will, charged the king’s mountain retainer with suppressing the truth, and in proof they brought some tough old birds caught at sea and had them served for the king’s table. Thereupon the king, not discovering the fraud, ordered that Lua-hoo-moe should be put to death by fire. The following verses were communicated to the author as apropos of Kau-kini, evidently the name of a man:

Ike ia Kau-kini, he lawaia manu.

He upena ku’u i ka noe i Poha-kahi,

Ua hoopulu ia i ka ohu ka kikepa;

Ke na’i la i ka luna a Kea-auwana;

Ka uahi i ke ka-peku e hei ai ka manu o Pu-o-alii.

O ke alii wale no ka’u i makemake

Ali’a la, ha’o, e!

[Translation.]

Behold Kau-kini, a fisher of birds;

Net spread in the mist of Poha-kahi,

That is soaked by the sidling fog.

It strives on the crest of Koa-auwana.

Smoke traps the birds of Pu-o-alii.

It’s only the king that I wish:

But stay now—I doubt.

Footnote 100: (return) Auwana. Said to be an eminence on the flank of Haleakala, back of Ulupalakua.

Footnote 101: (return) Apua. A place on Hawaii, on Maui, on Oahu, on Kauai, and on Molokai.

Footnote 102: (return) Mama ula ia ka malua ula. The malua-ula was a variety of tapa that was stained with hili kukui (the root-bark of the kukui tree). The ripe kukui nut was chewed into a paste and mingled with this stain. Mama ula refers to this chewing. The malua ula is mentioned as a foil to the pa-ú, being a cheap tapa.

Footnote 103: (return) I. A contracted form of ti or ki, the plant or, as in this case, the leaf of the ti, the Dracæna (pl. V). Liloa, the father Of Umi, used it to cover himself after his amour with the mother of Umi, having given his malo in pledge to the woman. Umi may have used this same leaf as a substitute for the malo while in the wilderness of Laupahoehoe, hiding away from his brother, King Hakau.

Footnote 104: (return) Oloná. A strong vegetable fiber sometimes added to tapa to give it strength. The fibers of olona in the fabric of the pa-ú are compared to the runnels and brooklets of Waihilau.

Footnote 105: (return) Wai-hilau. Name applied to the water that drips in a cave in Puna. It is also the name of a stream in Wai-pi’o valley, Hawaii.

Footnote 106: (return) Kilo-hana. The name given the outside, ornamented, sheet of a set (kuina) of five tapas used as bed-clothing. It was also applied to that part of a pa-ú which was decorated with figures. The word comes from kilohi, to examine critically, and hana, to work, and therefore means an ornamental work.

Footnote 107: (return) Ohe. Bamboo. In this case the stamp, made from bamboo, used to print the tapa.

Footnote 108: (return) Alá. The hard, dark basalt of which the Hawaiian ko’i, adz, is made; any pebble, or small water-worn stone, such as would be used to hold in place the pa-ú while spread out to dry.

Footnote 109: (return) Kane-poha-ka’a. Kane-the-hail-sender. The great god Kane was also conceived of as Kane-hekili, the thunderer; Kane-lulu-honua, the earthquake-sender, etc.

Footnote 110: (return) Wai-manu and Wai-pi’o are neighboring valleys.

Footnote 111: (return) Ko-a’e-kea. A land in Wai-pi’o valley.

Footnote 112: (return) Mo’ ke kihi. Mo’ is a contracted form of moku.

Footnote 113: (return) Hoaka. The name of the moon in its second day, or of the second day of the Hawaiian month; a crescent.

Footnote 114: (return) O awili o Malu-á.

The most direct and evident sense of the word awili is to wrap. It probably means the wrapping of the pa-ú about the loins; or it may mean the movable, shifty action of the pa-ú caused by the lively actions of the dancer. The expression Malw-á may be taken from the utterance of the king’s ilamuku (constable or sheriff) or other official, who, in proclaiming a tabu, held an idol in his arms and at the same time called out Kapu, o-o! The meaning is that the pa-ú, when wrapped about the woman’s loins, laid a tabu on the woman. The old Hawaiian consulted on the meaning of this passage quoted the following, which illustrates the fondness of his people for endless repetitions and play upon words:

Awiliwili i ka hale ¹¹⁹ o ka lauwili, e.

He lauwili ka makanl, he Kaua-ula, ¹²⁰

I hoapaapa i ka hale o ka lauwili, e:

[Translation.]

Unstable the house of the shifty man,

Fickle as the wind Kaua-ula.

Treachery lurks in the house of Unstable.

Footnote 115: (return) Kaupoku. A variant of the usual form, which is kaupaku, the ridgepole of a house, its apex. The pa-ti when, worn takes the shape of a grass house, which has the form of a haystack.

Footnote 116: (return) Ula ka pali. Red shows the pali, i. e., the side hill. This is a euphemism for some accident by which the pa-ú has been displaced, and an exposure of the person has taken place, as a result of which the boys scream and even the sea-bird, the a’o, shrieks itself hoarse.

Footnote 117: (return) A’o. A sea-bird, whose raucous voice is heard in the air at night at certain seasons.

Footnote 118: (return) Hi’i-lawe. A celebrated waterfall in Wai-pi’o valley, Hawaii.

Footnote 119: (return) Primitive meaning, house; second, the body as the house of the soul.

Footnote 120: (return) Kaua-ula. A strong wind that shifted from one point to another, and that blew, often with great violence, at Lahaina, Maul. The above triplet was often quoted by the chiefs of olden time apropos of a person who was fickle in love or residence. As the old book has it, “The double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.” (O ke kanáka lolilua ka manao lauwili kona mau aoao a pau.)

This is a typical Hawaiian poem of the better sort, keyed in a highly imaginative strain. The multitude of specific allusions to topographical names make it difficult to Page 54 translate it intelligently to a foreign mind. The poetical units are often so devised that each new division takes its clue from the last word of the previous verse, on the principle of “follow your leader,” a capital feature in Hawaiian poetry.

[Translation.]

Pa-ú Song

Footnote 121: (return) Umi. It was Liloa, the father of Umi, who covered himself with a ti leaf instead of a malo after the amour that resulted in the birth of Umi. His malo he had given as a pledge to the woman, who became the mother of Umi.

The girls of the olapa, their work in the tiring-room completed, lift their voices in a spirited song, and with a lively motion pass out into the hall to bloom before the waiting assembly in the halau in all the glory of their natural charms and adornments:

Oli

[Translation.]

Tiring Song.

Footnote 122: (return) Lau (archaic). Four hundred.

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The answering song, led by the kumu, is in the same flamboyant strain:

Oli

[Translation.]

Song

Footnote 123: (return) Mahu’ilani. A poetlcal name for the right hand; this the olapa, the dancing girls, lifted in extension as they entered the halau from, the dressing room. The left hand was termed Kaohi-lani.

Footnote 124: (return) Kauna-lewa. The name of a celebrated grove of coconuts at Kekaha, Kauai, near the residence of the late Mr. Knudsen.

After the ceremony of the pa-ú came that of the lei, a wreath to crown the head and another for the neck and shoulders. It was not the custom in the old times to overwhelm the body with floral decorations and to blur the outlines of the figure to the point of disfigurement; nor was every flower that blows acceptable as an offering. The gods were jealous and nice in their tastes, pleased, only with flowers indigenous to the soil—the ilima (pl. VI), the lehua, the maile, the ie-ie, and the like (see pp. 19, 20). The ceremony was quickly accomplished. As the company knotted the garlands about head or neck, they sang:

Oli Lei

[Translation.]

Wreath Song

Tradition tells a pathetic story (p. 212) in narrating an incident touching the occasion on which this song first was sung.

Footnote 125: (return) Wahine. The woman, Pele.

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IX.—THE HULA ALA’A-PAPA

Every formal hula was regarded by the people of the olden time as a sacred and religious performance (tabu); but all hulas were not held to be of equal dignity and rank (hanohano). Among those deemed to be of the noblest rank and honor was the ala’a-papa. In its best days this was a stately and dignified performance, comparable to the old-fashioned courtly minuet.

We shall observe in this hula the division of the performers into two sets, the hoopa’a and the olapa. Attention will naturally bestow itself first on the olapa, a division of the company made up of splendid youthful figures, young men, girls, and women in the prime of life. They stand a little apart and in advance of the others, the right hand extended, the left resting upon the hip, from which hangs in swelling folds the pa-ú. The time of their waiting for the signal to begin the dance gives the eye opportunity to make deliberate survey of the forms that stand before us.

The figures of the men are more finely proportioned, more statuesque, more worthy of preservation in marble or bronze than those of the women. Only at rare intervals does one find among this branch of the Polynesian race a female shape which from crown to sole will satisfy the canons of proportion—which one carries in the eye. That is not to say, however, that the artistic eye will not often meet a shape that appeals to the sense of grace and beauty. The springtime of Hawaiian womanly beauty hastes away too soon. Would it were possible to stay that fleeting period which ushers in full womanhood!

One finds himself asking the question to what extent the responsibility for this overthickness of leg and ankle—exaggerated in appearance, no doubt, by the ruffled anklets often worn—this pronounced tendency to the growth of that degenerate weed, fat, is to be explained by the standard of beauty which held sway in Hawaii’s courts and for many ages acted as a principle of selection in the physical molding of the Hawaiian female.

The prevailing type of physique among the Hawaiians, even more marked in the women than in the men, is the short and thick, as opposed to the graceful and slender. One does occasionally find delicacy of modeling in the young and immature; but with adolescence fatness too often comes to blur the outline.

The hoopa’a, who act as instrumentalists, very naturally maintain a position between sitting and kneeling, the better Page 58 to enable them, to handle that strangely effective drumlike instrument, the ipu, the one musical instrument used as an accompaniment in this hula. The ipu is made from the bodies of two larger pear-shaped calabashes of unequal sizes, which are joined together at their smaller ends in such a manner as to resemble a figure-of-eight. An opening is left at the top of the smaller calabash to increase the resonance. In moments of calm the musicians allow the body to rest upon the heels; as the action warms they lift themselves to such height as the bended knee will permit.

The ala’a-papa is a hula of comparatively moderate action. While the olapa employ hands, feet, and body in gesture and pose to illustrate the meaning and emotion of the song, the musicians mark the time by lifting and patting with the right hand the ipu each holds in the left hand. If the action of the play runs strong and stirs the emotions, each hoopa’a lifts his ipu wildly, fiercely smites it, then drops it on the padded rest in such manner as to bring out its deep mysterious tone.

At a signal from the kumu, who sits with the hoopa’a, the poo-pua’a, leader of the olapa, calls the mele (kahea i ka mele)—that is, he begins its recitation—in a tone differing but little from that of ordinary conversation, a sing-song recitation, a vocalization less stilted and less punctilious than that usually employed in the utterance of the oli or mele. The kumu, the leader of the company, now joins in, mouthing his words in full observance of the mele style. His manner of cantillation may be either what may be called the low relief, termed ko’i-honua, or a pompous alto-relievo style, termed ai-ha’a. This is the signal for the whole company to chime in, in the same style as the kumu. The result, as it seems to the untutored ear, is a confusion of sounds like that of the many-tongued roar of the ocean.

The songs cantillated for the hula ala’a-papa were many and of great variety. It seems to have been the practice for the kumu to arrange a number of mele, or poetical pieces, for presentation in the hula in such order as pleased him. These different mele, thus arranged, were called pale, compartments, or mahele, divisions, as if they were integral parts of one whole, while in reality their relation to one another was only that of the juxtaposition imposed upon them by the kumu.

The poetical pieces first to be presented were communicated to the author as mahele, divisions—hardly cantos—in the sense above defined. They are, however, distinct poems, though there chances to run through them all a somewhat similar motive. The origin of many of these is referred to a past so remote that tradition assigns them to what the Hawaiians call the wa po, the night of tradition, or they say of them, no ke akua mai, they are from the gods. It Page 59 matters not how faithful has been the effort to translate these poems, they will not be found easy of comprehension. The local allusions, the point of view, the atmosphere that were in the mind of the savage are not in our minds to-day, and will not again be in any mind on earth; they defy our best efforts at reproduction. To conjure up the ghostly semblance of these dead impalpable things and make them live again is a problem that must be solved by each one with such aid from the divining rod of the imagination as the reader can summon to his help.

Now for the play, the song:

Mele no Ka Hula Alá’a-papa

MAHELE-HELE I

PAUKU 1

[Translation.]

Song for the Hula Alá’a-papa.

CANTO I

STANZA 1

This song is from the story of Hiiaka on her journey to Kauai to bring the handsome prince, Lohiau, to Pele. The region is that on the windward, Koolau, side of Oahu.

Footnote 126: (return) Ilina. A sink, a place where a stream sinks into the earth or sand.

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PAUKU 2

The lines from, the fourth to the ninth in this stanza (pauku) represent a dialogue between two lovers.

[Translation.]

STANZA 2

PAUKU 3

(Ko’i-honua)

Footnote 127: (return) Olelo. To speak, to converse; here used figuratively to mean that the place is lonely, has no view of the ocean, looks only to the sky. “Looks that commerce with the sky.”

Footnote 128: (return) Ku-kani-loko. A land in Waialua, Oahu, to which princesses resorted in the olden times at the time of childbirth, that their offspring might have the distinction of being an alii kapu, a chief with a tabu.

Footnote 129: (return) Hale House; a familiar euphemism of the human body.

Footnote 130: (return) Kea-au. An ahu-pua’a, small division of land, in Puna adjoining Hilo, represented as sheltering Hilo on that side.

Footnote 131: (return) Waiakea. A river in Hilo, and the land through which it flows.

Footnote 132: (return) Hana-kahi. A land on the Hamakua side of Hilo, also a king whose name was a synonym for profound peace.

Footnote 133: (return) Olo-kea. To be invited or pulled many ways at once; distracted.

Footnote 134: (return) Lele-iwi. A cape on the north side of Hilo.

Footnote 135: (return) Maka-hana-loa. A cape.

Footnote 136: (return) Kaele-papa. A large, round, hollowed board on which to pound taro in the making of poi. The poi-board was usually long and oval.

Footnote 137: (return) Kaele. In this connection the meaning is surrounded, encompassed by.

Footnote 138: (return) Waiau. The name given to the stretch of Wailuku river near its mouth.

Footnote 139: (return) Moku-pane. The cape between the mouth of the Wailuku river and the town of Hilo.

Footnote 140: (return) Wai-anue-nue. Rainbow falls and the river that makes the leap.

Footnote 141: (return) Kolo-pule-pule. Another branch of the Wailuku stream.

Footnote 142: (return) Pili-kau. To hang low, said of a cloud.

Footnote 143: (return) Haili. A region in the inland, woody, part of Hilo.

Footnote 144: (return) Pa-ieie. A well-wooded part of Hilo, once much resorted to by bird-hunters; a place celebrated in Hawaiian song.

Footnote 145: (return) Mokau-lele. A wild, woody region In the interior of Hilo.

Footnote 146: (return) Malua. Name given to a wind from a northerly or northwesterly direction on several of the islands. The full form is Malua-lua.

Footnote 147: (return) Pu’u-eo. A village in the Hilo district near Puna.

Footnote 148: (return) Iwi-honua. Literally a bone of the earth: a projecting rock or a shoal; if in the water, an object to be avoided by the surf-rider. In this connection see note e, p. 36.

[Translation.]

STANZA 3

(With distinct utterance)

PAUKU 4

(Ai-ha’a)

[Translation.]

STANZA 4

(Bombastic style)

This poem is taken from the story of Hiiaka. On her return from the journey to fetch Lohiau she found that her sister Pele had treacherously ravaged with fire Puna, the district that contained her own dear woodlands. The description given in the poem is of the resulting desolation.

PAUKA 5

Footnote 149: (return) Hale-kai. A wild mountain, glen back of Hanalei valley, Kauai.

Footnote 150: (return) Ma’alewa. An aerial root that formed a sort of ladder by which one climbed the mountain steeps; literally a shaking sling.

Footnote 151: (return) Moana-nui-ka-lehua. A female demigod that came from the South (Ku-kulu-o-Kahiki) at about the same mythical period as that of Pele’s arrival—If not in her company—and who was put in charge of a portion of the channel that lies between Kauai and Oahu. This channel was generally termed Ie-ie-waena and Ie-ie-waho. Here the name Moana-nui-ka-lehua seems to be used to indicate the sea as well as the demigoddess, whose dominion it was. Ordinarily she appeared as a powerful fish, but she was capable of assuming the form of a beautiful woman (mermaid?). The title lehua was given her on account of her womanly charms.

Footnote 152: (return) Mali’o. Apparently another form of the word malino, calm; at any rate it has the same meaning.

Footnote 153: (return) Lehua. An allusion to the ill-fated’ young woman Hopoe, who was Hiiaka’s intimate friend. The allusion is amplified in the next line.

Footnote 154: (return) Hopoe-lehua. The lehua tree was one of the forms in which Hopoe appeared, and after her death, due to the jealous rage of Pele, she was turned into a charred lehua tree which stood on the coast subject to the beating of the surf.

Footnote 155: (return) Maka’u ka lehua i ke kanaka. Another version has it Maka’u ke kanaka i ka lehua; Man fears the lehua. The form here used is perhaps an ironical allusion to man’s fondness not only to despoil the tree of its scarlet flowers, but womanhood, the woman it represented.

Footnote 156: (return) Kea-au. Often shortened in pronunciation to Ke-au, a fishing village in Puna near Hilo town. It now has a landing place for small vessels.

Footnote 157: (return) Hoolono. To call, to make an uproar, to spread a report.

Footnote 158: (return) Ia hoo-nee-nee ia pili mai. A very peculiar figure of speech. It Is as if the poet personified, the act of two lovers snuggling up close to each other. Compare with this the expression No huli mai, used by another poet in the thirteenth line of the lyric given on p. 204. The motive is the same in each case.

The author of this poem of venerable age is not known. It is spoken of as belonging to the wa po, the twilight of tradition. It is represented to be part of a mele taught to Hiiaka by her friend and preceptress in the hula, Hopoe. Hopoe is often called Hopoe-wahine. From internal evidence one can see that it can not be in form the same as was given to Hiiaka by Hopoe; it may have been founded on the poem of Hopoe. If so, it has been modified.

[Translation.]

STANZA 5

The last five verses, which sound like a love song, may possibly be a modern addition to this old poem. The sentiment they contain is comparable to that expressed in the Song of Welcome on page 39:

Page 65

MAHELE-HELE II

Footnote 159: (return) Hi’u-o-lani. A very blind phrase. Hawaiians disagree as to its meaning. In the author’s opinion, it is a word referring to the conjurer’s art.

Footnote 160: (return) Ua o Hilo. Hilo is a very rainy country. The name Hilo seems to be used here as almost a synonym of violent rain. It calls to mind the use of the word Hilo to signify a strong wind:

Pa mai, pa mai,

Ka makani a Hilo! ¹⁶⁸

Waiho ka ipu iki,

Homai ka ipu nui!

[Translation.]

Blow, blow, thou wind of Hilo!

Leave the little calabash,

Bring on the big one!

Footnote 161: (return) Pua-lani. The name of a deity who took the form of the rosy clouds of morning.

Footnote 162: (return) Mahele ana. Literally the dividing; an allusion to the fact, it is said, that in Hilo a rain-cloud, or rain-squall, as it came up would often divide and a part of it turn off toward Puna at the cape named Lele-iwi, one-half watering, in the direction of the present town, the land known as Hana-kahi.

Footnote 163: (return) Hana-kahi. Look at note f, p. 60.

Footnote 164: (return) Mauna-ole. According to one authority this should be Mauna-Hilo. Verses 13, 14, 16, and 17 are difficult of translation. The play on the words ku a, standing at, or standing by, and kua, the back; also on the word kowa, a gulf or strait; and the repetition of the word mauna, mountain—all this is carried to such an extent as to be quite unintelligible to the Anglo-Saxon mind, though full of significance to a Hawaiian.

Footnote 165: (return) A’e. A strong wind that prevails in Ka-u. The same word also means to step on, to climb. This double-meaning gives the poet opportunity for a euphuistic word-play that was much enjoyed by the Hawaiians. The Hawaiians of the present day are not quite up to this sort of logomachy.

Footnote 166: (return) Kaili-ki’i. The promontory that shelters the cove Ka-hewa-hewa.

Footnote 167: (return) Ka-hea-hea. The name of the cove Ka-hewa-hewa, above mentioned, is here given in a softened form obtained by the elision of the letter w.

Footnote 168: (return) Hilo, or Whiro, as in the Maori, was a great navigator.

[Translation.]

CANTO II

“What name?” was asked of the old Hawaiian.

“A god,” said he.

“How is that? A mele-inoa celebrates the name and glory of a king, not of a god.”

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His answer was, “The gods composed the mele; men did not compose it.”

Like an old-time geologist, he solved the puzzle of a novel phenomenon by ascribing it to God.

MAHELE III

(Ai-ha’a)

[Translation.]

CANTO III

(Bombastic style)

Footnote 169: (return) Koa’e-kea, Pueo hulu-nui. Steep declivities, pali, on the side of Waipio valley, Hawaii. Instead of inserting these names, which would be meaningless without an explanation, the author has given a literal translation of the names themselves, thus getting a closer insight into the Hawaiian thought.

Footnote 170: (return) A’e. The precipices rise one above another like the steps of a stairway, climbing, climbing up, though the probable intent of the poet is to represent some one as climbing the ascent.

Footnote 171: (return) Ha’i. Short for Ha’ina-kolo; a woman about whom there is a story of tragic adventure. Through eating when famished of some berries in an unceremonious way she became distraught and wandered about for many months until discovered by the persistent efforts of her husband. The pali which she climbed was named after her.

Footnote 172: (return) Maka’u-kiu. The name of a famous huge shark that was regarded with reverential fear.

Footnote 173: (return) Pohaku lele. In order to determine whether a shark was present, it was the custom, before going into the clear water of some of these coves, to throw rocks into the water in order to disturb the monster and make his presence known.

Footnote 174: (return) Big-leaf. A literal translation of Lau-nui. Laupahoehoe, Flat-leaf.

MAHELE IV

This mele, Hole Waimea, is also sung in connection with the hula ipu.

Footnote 175: (return) Hole. To rasp, to handle rudely, to caress passionately. Waimea is a district and village on Hawaii.

Footnote 176: (return) Kipu’u-pu’u. A cold wind from Mauna-Kea that blows at Waimea.

Footnote 177: (return) Mahiki. A woodland in Waimea, in mythological times haunted by demons and spooks.

Footnote 178: (return) Mala-nai. The poetical name of a wind, probably the trade wind; a name much used in Hawaiian sentimental poetry.

Footnote 179: (return) Oha-wai. A water hole that is filled by dripping; an important source of supply for drinking purposes in certain parts of Hawaii.

Footnote 180: (return) Pua o Koaie, The koaie is a tree that grows in the wilds, the blossom of which is extremely fragrant. (Not the same as that subspecies of the koa (Acacia koa) which Hillebrand describes and wrongly spells koaia. Here a euphemism for the delicate parts.)

Footnote 181: (return) Koolau, or, full form, Ko-kao-lau. Described by Doctor Hillebrand as Kokolau, a wrong spelling. It has a pretty yellow flower, a yellow eye—maka lena—as the song has it. Here used tropically. (This is the plant whose leaf is sometimes used as a substitute for tea.)

Footnote 182: (return) Moolau. An expression used figuratively to mean a woman, more especially her breasts. The term Huli-lau, is also used, in a slang way, to signify the breasts of a woman, the primitive meaning being a calabash.

Footnote 183: (return) Pili. To touch; touched. This was the word used in the forfeit-paying love game, kilu, when the player made a point by hitting the target of his opponent with his kilu. (For further description see p. 235.)

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The song above given, the translation of which is to follow, belongs to historic times, being ascribed to King Liholiho—Kamehameha II—who died in London July 13, 1824, on his visit to England. It attained great vogue and still holds its popularity with the Hawaiians. The reader will note the comparative effeminacy and sentimentality of the style and the frequent use of euphemisms and double-entendre. The double meaning in a Hawaiian mele will not always be evident to one whose acquaintance with the language is not intimate. To one who comes to it from excursions in Anglo-Saxon poetry, wandering through its “meadows trim with daisies pied,” the sly intent of the Hawaiian, even when pointed out, will, no doubt, seem an inconsequential thing and the demonstration of it an impertinence, if not a fiction to the imagination. Its euphemisms in reality have no baser intent than the euphuisms of Lyly, Ben Jonson, or Shakespeare.

[Translation.]

Song—Hole Waimea

PART IV

PAUKU 2

Page 70

[Translation.]

STANZA 2

The poem above given from beginning to end is figurative, a piece of far-fetched, enigmatical symbolism in the lower plane of human nature.

PAUKU 3

[Translation.]

STANZA 3

Footnote 184: (return) Po-lolo. A secret word, like a cipher, made up for the occasion and compounded of two words, po, night, and loloa, long, the final a, of loloa being dropped. This form of speech was called kepakepa, and was much used by the Hawaiians in old times.

Footnote 185: (return) Ulu-mano. A violent wind which blows by night only on the western side of Hawaii. Kamehameha with a company of men was once wrecked by this wind off Nawawa; a whole village was burned to light them ashore. (Dictionary of the Hawaiian Language, by Lorrin Andrews.)

Footnote 186: (return) Walu-ihe a ke A’e. The A’e is a violent wind that is described as blowing from different points of the compass in succession; a circular storm. Walu-ihe—eight spears—was a name applied to this same wind during a certain portion of its circuitous range, covering at least eight different points, as observed by the Hawaiians. It was well fitted, therefore, to serve as a figure descriptive of eight different lovers, who follow each other in quick succession, in the favors of the same wanton.

Footnote 187: (return) Ho-Wo The name of a wind, but of an entirely different character from those above mentioned.

Footnote 188: (return) Hana-kahi. (See note f, p. 60.)

Page 71

This is not a line-for-line translation; that the author found infeasible. Line 8 of the English represents line 7 of the Hawaiian. Given more literally, it might be, “He’ll shake the buttocks of Hilo’s forty thousand.”

The metaphor of this song is disjointed, but hot with the primeval passions of humanity.

PAUKU 4

[Translation.]

STANZA 4

The following account is taken from the Polynesian Researches of the Rev. William Ellis, the well-known English missionary, who visited these islands in the years 1822 and 1823, and whose recorded observations have been of the highest value in preserving a knowledge of the institutions of ancient Hawaii:

In the afternoon, a party of strolling musicians and dancers arrived at Kairua. About four o’clock they came, followed by crowds of people, and arranged themselves on a fine sandy beach in front of one of the governor’s houses, where they exhibited a native dance, called hura araapapa.

The five musicians first seated themselves in a line on the ground, and spread a piece of folded cloth on the sand before them. Their instrument was a large calabash, or rather two, one of an oval shape about three feet high, the other perfectly round, very neatly fastened to it, having also an aperture about three inches in diameter at the top. Each musician held his instrument before him with both hands, and produced his music by striking it on the ground, where he had laid a piece of cloth, and beating it with his fingers, or the palms of his hands. As soon as they began to sound their calabashes, the dancer, a young man about the middle stature, advanced through the opening crowd.

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His jet-black hair hung in loose and flowing ringlets on his naked shoulders; his necklace was made of a vast number of strings of nicely braided human hair, tied together behind, while a paraoa (an ornament made of a whale’s tooth) hung pendent from it on his breast; his wrists were ornamented with bracelets formed of polished tusks of the hog, and his ankles with loose buskins, thickly set with dog’s teeth, the rattle of which, during the dance, kept time with the music of the calabash drum. A beautiful yellow tapa was tastefully fastened round his loins, reaching to his knees. He began his dance in front of the musicians, and moved forward and backwards, across the area, occasionally chanting the achievements of former kings of Hawaii. The governor sat at the end of the ring, opposite to the musicians, and appeared gratified with the performance, which continued until the evening. (Vol. IV, 100-101, London, Fisher, Son & Jackson, 1831.)

NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.—At the time of Mr. Ellis’ visit to Hawaii the orthography of the Hawaiian language was still in a formative stage, and it is said that his counsels had influence in shaping it. His use of r instead of l in the words hula, alaapapa, and palaoa may, therefore, be ascribed to the fact of his previous acquaintance with the dialects of southern Polynesia, in which the sound of r to a large extent substitutes that of l, and to the probability that for that reason his ear was already attuned to the prevailing southern fashion, and his judgment prepossessed in that direction.

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X.—THE HULA PA-ÍPU, OR KUÓLO

The pa-ípu, called also the kuólo, was a hula of dignified character, in which all the performers maintained the kneeling position and accompanied their songs with the solemn tones of the ípu (pl. vii), with which each one was provided. The proper handling of this drumlike instrument in concert with the cantillation of the mele made such demands upon the artist, who was both singer and instrumentalist, that only persons of the most approved skill and experience were chosen to take part in the performance of this hula.

The manner of treating the ípu in this hula differed somewhat from that employed in the ala’a-papa, being subdued and quiet in that, whereas in the pa-ípu it was at times marked with great vigor and demonstrativeness, so that in moments of excitement and for the expression of passion, fierce joy, or grief the ípu might be lifted on high and wildly brandished. It thus made good its title as the most important instrument of the Hawaiian orchestra.

In the pa-ípu, as in the hulas generally, while the actors were sometimes grouped according to sex, they were quite as often distributed indiscriminately, the place for the leader, the kumu, being the center.

The vigor that marks the literary style of the mele now given stamps it as belonging to the archaic period, which closed in the early part of the eighteenth century, that century which saw the white man make his advent in Hawaii. The poem deals apparently with an incident in one of the migrations such as took place during the period of intercourse between the North and the South Pacific. This was a time of great stir and contention, a time when there was much paddling and sailing about and canoe-fleets, often manned by warriors, traversed the great ocean in every direction. It was then that Hawaii received many colonists from the archipelagoes that lie to the southward.

Mele

(Ko’i-honua)

Footnote 189: (return) Olopana. A celebrated king of Waipio valley, Hawaii, who had to wife the famous beauty, Luukia. Owing to misfortune, he sailed away to Kahiki, taking with him his wife and his younger brother, Moikeha, who was his puna-lua, settling in a land called Moa-ula-nui-akea. Olopana probably ended his days in his new-found home, but Moi-keha, heart-sick at the loss of Luukia’s favors, came hack to Hawaii and became the progenitor of a line of distinguished men, several of whom were famous navigators. Exactly what incident in the life of Olopana is alluded to in the sixth and preceding verses, the traditions that narrate his adventures do not inform us.

Footnote 190: (return) Hei kapu. An oracle; the place where the high priest kept himself while consulting the deities of the heiau. It was a small house erected on an elevated platform of stones, and there he kept himself in seclusion at such times as he sought to be the recipient of communications from the gods.

Footnote 191: (return) Hana-ka-ulani. A name applied to several heiau (temples). The first one so styled, according to tradition, was built at Hana, Maui, and another one at Kaluanui, on Oahu, near the famous valley of Ka-liu-wa’a. These heiau are said to have been built by the gods in the misty past soon after landing on these shores. Was it to celebrate their escape from perils by sea and enemies on land, or was it in token of thankfulness to gods still higher than themselves?
The author’s informant can not tell whether these followed the fierce, strict cult of Kane or the milder cult of Lono.

Footnote 192: (return) Hoo-mamao-lani. An epithet meaning remote in the heavens, applied to an alii of very high rank.

Footnote 193: (return) Keawe.

This is a name that belonged, to several kings and a large family of gods—papa akua—all of which gods are said to have come from Kahiki and to have dated their origin from the Wa Po, the twilight of antiquity. Among the demigods that were called Keawe may be mentioned: (1) Keawe-huli, a prophet and soothsayer. (2) Keawe-kilo-pono, a wise and righteous one, who loved justice. (3) Keawe-hula-maemae. It was his function to maintain purity and cleanliness; he was a devouring flame that destroyed rubbish and all foulness. (4) Keawe-ula-o-ka-lani. This was the poetical appellation, given to the delicate flush of early morning. Apropos of this the Hawaiians have the following quatrain, which they consider descriptive not only of morning blush, but also of the coming in of the reign of the gods:

O Keawe-ula-i-ka-lani,

O Keawe-liko-i-ka-lani,

O Ke’awe-uina-poha-i-Kahiki;

Hikl mai ana o Lono.

[Translation.]

Keawe-the-red-blush-of-dawn,

Keawe-the-bud-in-the-sky,

Keawe-thunder-burst-at-Kahiki:

Till Lono comes in to reign.

(5) Keawe-pa-makani. It was his function to send winds from Kukulu-o-Kahiki, as well as from some other points. (6) Keawe-ío-ío-moa. This god inspected the ocean tides and currents, such as Au-miki and Au-ká. (7) Keawe-i-ka-liko. He took charge of flowerbuds and tender shoots, giving them a chance to develop. (8) Keawe-ulu-pu. It was his function to promote the development and fruitage of plants. (9) Keawe-lu-pua. He caused flowers to shed their petals. (10) Keawe-opala. It was his thankless task to create rubbish and litter by scattering the leaves of the trees. (11) Keawe-hulu, a magician, who could blow a feather into the air and see it at once become a bird with power to fly away. (12) Keawe-nui-ka-ua-o-Hilo, a sentinel who stood guard by night and by day to watch over all creation. (13) Keawe-pulehu. He was a thief and served as Page 75[Page 75] cook for the ods. There were gods of evil as well as of good in this set. (14) Keawe-oili. He was gifted with the power to convey and transfer evil, sickness, misfortune, and death. (15) Keawe-kaili. He was a robber. (16) Keawe-aihue. He was a thief. (17) Keuwe-mahilo. He was a beggar. He would stand round while others were preparing food, doing honest work, and plead with his eyes. In this way he often obtained a dole. (18) Keawe-puni-pua’a. He was a glutton, very greedy of pork; he was also called Keawe-ai-pua’a. (19) Keawe-inoino. He was a sloven, unclean in all his ways. (20) Keawe-ilio. The only title to renown of this superhuman creature was his inordinate fondness for the flesh of the dog. So far none of the superhuman heings mentioned seemed fitted to the role of the Keawe of the text, who was passionately fond of the sea. The author had given up in despair, when one day, on repeating his inquiry in another quarter, he was rewarded by learning of—(21) Keawe-i-na-’kai. He was a resident of the region about the southeastern point of Molokai, called Lae-ka-Ilio—Cape of the Dog. He was extravagantly fond of the ocean and allowed no weather to interfere with the indulgence of his penchant. An epithet applied to him describes his dominating passion: Keawe moe i ke kai o Kohakú, Keawe who sleeps in (or on) the sea of Kohakú. It seems probable that this was the Keawe mentioned in the twelfth and thirteenth lines of the mele.

The appellation Keawe seems to have served as a sort of Jack among the demigods of the Hawaiian pantheon, on whom was to be laid the burden of a mongrel host of virtues and vices that were not assignable to the regular orthodox deities. Somewhat in the same way do we use the name Jack as a caption, for a miscellaneous lot of functions, as when we speak of a “Jack-at-all-trades.”

[Translation.]

Song

(Distinct utterance)

Mele

PALE I

Page 76

[Translation.]

Song

CANTO I

The intricately twisted language of this mele is allegorical, a rope whose strands are inwrought with passion, envy, detraction, and abuse. In translating it one has to choose between the poetic verbal garb and the esoteric meaning which the bard made to lurk beneath the surface.

Mele

PALE II

[Translation.]

Song

CANTO II

The scene of this mele is laid on one of the little bird-islands that lie to the northwest of Kauai. The iwa bird, flying heavily to his nesting place in the wiry grass (kala-pahee), symbolizes the flight of a man in his deep-laden pirogue, abducting the woman of his love. The screaming sea-birds that warn him off the island, represented as watch-guards of the shark-god Kuhai-moana (whose reef is still pointed out), figure the outcries of the parents and friends of the abducted woman.

After the first passionate outburst (Puni’a iluna o ka Halau-a-ola) things go more smoothly (ola, ...). The flight to covert from the storm, the cove at the base of Le-hu-a, the shady groves, the scarlet pompons of the lehua—the tree and the island have the same name—all these things are to be interpreted figuratively as emblems of woman’s physical charms and the delights of love-dalliance.

Mele

PALE III

(Ai-ha’a)

Page 78

[Translation.]

Song

CANTO III

(In turgid style)

The imagery of this mele sets forth the story of the fierce, but fruitless, love-search of a chief, who is figured by the Ulu-mano, a boisterous wind of Puna, Hawaii. The fragrance of upland lehua (moani lehua, a’e la mauka, verse 3) typifies the charms of the woman he pursues. The expression kani lehua (verse 4), literally the sudden ending of a rain-squall, signifies the man’s failure to gain his object. The lover seeks to string the golden drupe of the pandanus (halo), that he may wear them as a wreath about his neck (uwalo); he is wounded by the teeth of the sword-leaves (o ia i ka lau o ka hala, verse 5). More than this, he meets powerful, concerted resistance (ke poo o ka hala o ke aku’i, verse 6), offered by the compact groves of pandanus that grow in the rough lava-shag (aku’i), typifying, no doubt, the resistance made by the friends and retainers of the woman. After all, he finds, or declares that he finds, the hala fruit he had sought to gather and to wear as a lei about his neck, to be spoiled, broken, fit only to litter the road (loli ka mu’o o ka hala, verse 8; A helelei ka’pua, a pili ke alanui, verse 9). In spite of his repulse and his vilification of the woman, his passion, still feeds on the thought of the one he has lost; her charms intoxicate his imagination, even as the perfume of the hala bloom bewitches the air of Pana-ewa (Pu ia Panaewa, ona-ona i ke ala, verse 10).

It is difficult to interpret verses 12 to 18 in harmony with the story as above given. They may be regarded as a Page 79 commentary on the passionate episode in the life of the lover, looked at from the standpoint of old age, at a time when passion still survives but physical strength is in abeyance.

As the sugar-boiler can not extract from the stalk the last grain of sugar, so the author finds it impossible in any translation to express the full intent of these Hawaiian mele.

Mele

PALE IV

Footnote 194: (return) Wai oupe-kanaka. Man-fooling water; the mirage.

Footnote 195: (return) Lima-loa. The long-armed, the god of the mirage, who made his appearance at Maná, Kauai.

Footnote 196: (return) Poloai. To converse with, to have dealings with one.

Footnote 197: (return) Koolau-wahine. The sea-breeze at Mana. There is truth as well as poetry in the assertion made in this verse. The warm moist air, rising from the heated sands of Maná, did undoubtedly draw in the cool breeze from the ocean—a fruitful dalliance.

Footnote 198: (return) Kino-lau. Having many (400) bodies, or metamorphoses, said of Kawelo.

Footnote 199: (return) Kawelo.

A sorcerer who lived in the region of Maná. His favorite metamorphosis was into the form of a shark. Even when in human form he retained the gills of a fish and had the mouth of a shark at the back of his shoulders, while to the lower part of his body were attached the tail and flukes of a shark. To conceal these monstrous appendages he wore over his shoulders a kihei of kapa and allowed himself to be seen only while in the sitting posture. He sometimes took the form of a worm, a moth, a caterpillar, or a butterfly to escape the hands of his enemies. On land he generally appeared as a man squatting, after the manner of a Hawaiian gardener while weeding his garden plot.

The cultivated lands of Kawelo lay alongside the much-traveled path to the beach where the people of the neighborhood resorted to bathe, to fish, and to swim in the ocean. He made a practice of saluting the passers-by and of asking them, “Whither are you going?” adding the caution, “Look to it that you are not swallowed head and tail by the shark; he has not breakfasted yet” (E akahele oukou o pau po’o, pau hi’u i ka manó; aohe i paina i kakahiaka o ka manó). As soon as the traveler had gone on his way to the ocean, Kawelo hastened to the sea and there assumed his shark-form. The tender flesh of children was his favorite food. The frequent utterance of the same caution, joined to the great mortality among the children and youth who resorted to the ocean at this place, caused a panic among the residents. The parents consulted a soothsayer, who surprised them with the information that the guilty one was none other than the innocent-looking farmer, Kawelo. Instructed by the soothsayer, the people made an immense net of great strength and having very fine meshes. This they spread in the ocean at the bathing place. Kawelo, when caught in the net, struggled fiendishly to break away, but in vain. According to directions, they flung the body of the monster into an enormous oven which they had heated to redness, and supplied with fresh fuel for five times ten days—elima anahulu. At the end of that time there remained only gray ashes. The prophet had commanded them that when this had been accomplished they must fill the pit of the oven with dry dirt; thus doing, the monster would never come to life. They neglected this precaution. A heavy rain flooded the country—the superhuman work of the sorcerer—and from the moistened ashes sprang into being a swarm of lesser sharks. From them have come the many species of shark that now infest our ocean.

The house which once was Kawelo’s ocean residence is still pointed out, 7 fathoms deep, a structure regularly built of rocks.

Footnote 200: (return) Maha-maha i’a. The gills or fins of a fish such as marked Kawelo.

Footnote 201: (return) Aona. A word of doubtful meaning; according to one it means lucky. That expounder (T—— P——) says it should, or-might be, haona; he instances the phrase iwi paou, in which the word paoa has a similar, but not identical, form and means lucky bone.

Footnote 202: (return) Ka-maile. A place on Kauai where prevailed the custom of throwing firebrands down the lofty precipice of Nuololo. This amusement made a fine display at night. As the fire-sticks fell they swayed and drifted in the breeze, making it difficult for one standing below to premise their course through the air and to catch one of them before it struck the ground or the water, that being one of the objects of the sport. When a visitor had accomplished this feat, he would sometimes mark his flesh with the burning stick that he might show the brand to his sweetheart as a token of his fidelity.

[Translation.]

Song

CANTO IV

Mele

PALE V

(Ai-ha’a, a he Ko’i-honua paha)

[Translation.]

Song

CANTO V

(To be recited in bombastic style, or, it may be, distinctly)

Page 82

The heaping up of adulations, of which this mele is a capital instance, was not peculiar to Hawaiian poetry. The Roman Senate bestowed divinity on its emperors by vote; the Hawaiian bard laureate, careering on his Pegasus, thought to accomplish the same end by piling Ossa on Pelion with high-flown phrases; and every loyal subject added his contribution to the cairn that grew heavenward.

In Hawaii, as elsewhere, the times of royal debasement, of aristocratic degeneracy, of doubtful or disrupted succession, have always been the times of loudest poetic insistence on birth-rank and the occasion for the most frenzied utterance of high-sounding titles. This is a disease that has grown with the decay of monarchy.

Applying this criterion to the mele above given, it may be judged to be by no means a product wholly of the archaic period. While certain parts, say from the first to the tenth verses, inclusive, bear the mark of antiquity, the other parts do not ring clear. It seems as if some poet of comparatively modern times had revamped an old mele to suit his own ends. Of this last part two verses were so glaringly an interpolation that they were expunged from the text.

The effort to translate into pure Anglo-Saxon this vehement outpour of high-colored phrases has made heavy demands on the vocabulary and has strained the idioms of our speech well-nigh to the point of protest.

In lines 1, 2, 4, 8, 14, and 23 the word Lani means a prince or princess, a high chief or king, a heavenly one. In lines 12, 13, 18, and 20 the same word lani means the heavens, a concept in the Hawaiian mind that had some far-away approximation to the Olympus of classic Greece.

Mele

Page 83

[Translation.]

Song

Footnote 203: (return) In the original, He mau alualu ka, ha’i e lawe, literally “Some skins for another to take.”

This song almost explains itself. It is the soliloquy of a lover estranged from his mistress. Imagination is alive in eye and ear to everything that may bring tidings of her, even of her unhoped-for return. Sometimes he speaks as if addressing the woman who has gone from him, or he addresses himself, or he personifies some one who speaks to him, as in the sixth line: “Your day has flown, ...”

The memory of past vexation and anguish extorts the philosophic remark, “No mortal goes scathless of love.” He gives over the past, seeks consolation in a new attachment—he dives, lu’u, into the great ocean, “deep waters,” of love, at least in search of love. The old self (selves), the old love, he declares to be only alualu, empty husks.

He—it is evidently a man—sets forth the wealth of comfort, opulence, that surrounds him in his new-found peace. The scene, being laid in the land Kailua, Oahu—the place to which the enchanted tree Maka-léi ²⁰⁴ was carried long ago, from which time its waters abounded in fish—fish are naturally the symbol of the opulence that now bless his life. But, in spite of the new-found peace and prosperity that attend him, there is a lonely corner in his heart; the old question echoes in its vacuum, “Who’ll greet her with song? who shall console?”

Footnote 204: (return) Maka-léi. (See note b, p. 17.)

Page 84

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

A poem this full of local color. The plot of the story, as it may be interpreted, runs somewhat as follows: While the man of the house, presumably, is away, it would seem—fishing, perhaps, in the waters of Ewa’s “shamrock lagoon”—the mistress sports with a lover. The culprit impudently defends himself with chaff and dust-throwing. The hoodlums, one of whom is himself the sinner, have been blabbing, says he. Page 85 His accuser points to the beaten down hina-hina grass as evidence against him. At this the brazen-faced culprit parries the stroke with a humorous euphemistic description, in which he plays on the word hina, to fall. Such verbal tilting in ancient Hawaii was practically a defense against a charge of moral obliquity as decisive and legitimate as was an appeal to arms in the times of chivalry. He euphemistically speaks of the beaten herbage as the result of his having tripped and fallen, at which, says he, the woman smiled, that is she fell in with his proposals. He gives himself away; but that doesn’t matter.

It requires some study to make out who is the speaker in the tit-for-tat of the dialogue.

Mele

(Ai-ha’a)

[Translation.]

Song

(In turgid style)

Page 88

This mele comes to us stamped with the hall-mark of antiquity. It is a poem of mythology, but with what story it connects itself, the author knows not.

The translation here given makes no profession of absolute, verbal literalness. One can not transfer a metaphor bodily, head and horns, from one speech to another. The European had to invent a new name for the boomerang or accept the name by which the Australian called it. The Frenchman, struggling with the English language, told a lady he was gangrened, he meant he was mortified. The cry for literalism is the cry for an impossibility; to put the chicken back into its shell, to return to the bows and arrows of the stone age.

To make the application to the mele in question: the word hu-olo-olo, for example, which is translated in several different ways in the poem, is of such generic and comprehensive meaning that one word fails to express its meaning. It is, by the way, not a word to be found in any dictionary. The author had to grope his way to its meaning by following the trail of some Hawaiian pathfinder who, after beating about the bush, finally had to acknowledge that the path had become so much overgrown since he last went that way that he could not find it.

The Arabs have a hundred or more words meaning sword—different kinds of swords. To them our word sword is very unspecific. Talk to an Arab of a sword—you may exhaust the list of special forms that our poor vocabulary compasses, straight sword, broadsword, saber, scimitar, yataghan, rapier, and what hot, and yet not hit the mark of Ms definition.

Mele

Page 89

[Translation.]

Song

The Hawaiian who furnished the meles which, in their translated forms, are designated as canto I, canto II, and so on, spoke of them as pále, and, following his nomenclature, the term has been retained, though more intimate acquaintance with the meles and with the term has shown that the nearest English synonym to correspond with pale would be the word division. Still, perhaps with a mistaken tenderness for the word, the author has retained the caption Canto, as a sort of nodding recognition of the old Hawaiian’s term—division of a poem. No idea is entertained that the five pále above given were composed by the same bard, or that they represent productions from the same individual standpoint. They do, however, breathe a spirit much in common; so that when the old Hawaiian insisted that they are so far related to one another as to form a natural series for recitation in the hula, being species of the same genus, as it were, he was not far from the truth. The man’s idea seemed to be that they were so closely related that, like beads of harmonious colors and shapes, they might be strung on the same thread without producing a dissonance.

Of these five poems, or pále (páh-lay), numbers I, II, and IV were uttered in a natural tone of voice, termed kawele, otherwise termed ko’i-honua. The purpose of this style of recitation was to adapt the tone to the necessities of the Page 90 aged when their ears no longer heard distinctly. It would require an audiphone to illustrate perfectly the difference between this method of pronunciation and the ai-ha’a, which was employed in the recitation of cantos III and V. The ai-ha’a was given in a strained and guttural tone.

The poetical reciter and cantillator, whether in the halau or in the king’s court, was wont to heighten the oratorical effect of his recitation by certain crude devices, the most marked of which was that of choking the voice down, as it were, into the throat, and there letting it strain and growl like a hungry lion. This was the ai-ha’a, whose organic function was the expression of the underground passions of the soul.

Page 91

XI.—THE HULA KI’I

I was not a little surprised when I learned that the ancient hula repertory of the Hawaiians included a performance with marionettes, ki’i, dressed up to represent human beings. But before accepting the hula ki’i as a product indigenous to Hawaii, I asked myself: Might not this be a performance in imitation of the Punch-and-Judy show familiar to Europe and America?

After careful study of the question no evidence was found, other than what might be inferred from general resemblance, for the theory of adoption from a European or American origin. On the contrary, the words used as an accompaniment to the play agree with report and tradition, and bear convincing evidence in form, and matter to a Hawaiian antiquity. That is not to say, however, that in the use of marionettes the Hawaiians did not hark back to their ancestral homes in the southern sea or to a remoter past in Asia.

The six marionettes, ki’i (pls. VIII and IX), in the writer’s possession were obtained from a distinguished kumu-hula, who received them by inheritance, as it were, from his brother. “He gave them to me,” said he, “with these words,’ Take care of these things, and when the time comes, after my death, that the king wants you to perform before him, be ready to fulfill his desire.’”

It was in the reign of Kamehameha III that they came into the hands of the elder brother, who was then and continued to be the royal hula-master until his death. These ki’i have therefore figured in performances that have been graced by the presence of King Kauikeaouli (Kamehameha III) and his queen, Kalama, and by his successors since then down to the times of Kalakaua. At the so-called “jubilee,” the anniversary of Kalakaua’s fiftieth birthday, these marionettes were very much in evidence.

The make-up and style of these ki’i are so similar that a description of one will serve for all six. This marionette represents the figure of a man, and was named Maka-kú (pl. IX). The head is carved out of some soft wood—either kukui or wiliwili—which is covered, as to the hairy scalp, with a dark woven fabric much like broadcloth. It is encircled at the level of the forehead with a broad band of gilt braid, as if to ape the style of a soldier. The median line from the forehead over the vertex to the back-head is crested with the mahiole ridge. This, taken in connection with the Page 92 encircling gilt band, gives to the head a warlike appearance, somewhat as if it were armed with the classical helmet, the Hawaiian name for which is mahi-ole. The crest of the ridge and its points of junction with the forehead and back-head are decorated with fillets of wool dyed of a reddish color, in apparent imitation of the mamo or o-ó, the birds whose feathers were used in decorating helmets, cloaks, and other regalia. The features are carved with some attempt at fidelity. The eyes are set with mother-of-pearl.

The figure is of about one-third life size, and was originally draped, the author was told, in a loose robe, holokú of tapa cloth of the sort known as mahuna, which is quite thin. This piece of tapa is perforated at short intervals with small holes, kiko’i. It is also stained with the juice from the bark of the root of the kukui tree, which imparts a color like that of copper, and makes the Hawaiians class it as pa’ikukui. A portion of its former, its original, apparel has been secured.

The image is now robed in a holokú of yellow cotton, beneath which is an underskirt of striped silk in green and white. The arms are loosely jointed to the body.

The performer in the hula, who stood behind a screen, by insinuating his hands under the clothing of the marionette, could impart to it such movements as were called for by the action of the play, while at the same time he repeated the words of his part, words supposed to be uttered by the marionette.

The hula ki’i was, perhaps, the nearest approximation made by the Hawaiians to a genuine dramatic performance. Its usual instrument of musical accompaniment was the ipu, previously described. This drumlike object was handled by that division of the performers called the hoopa’a, who sat in full view of the audience manipulating the ipu in a quiet, sentimental manner, similar to that employed in the hula kuolo.

As a sample of the stories illustrated in a performance of the hula ki’i the following may be adduced, the dramatis personae of which are four:

1. Maka-kú: a famous warrior, a rude, strong-handed braggart, as boastful as Ajax.

2. Puapua-kea, a small man, but brave and active.

3. Maile-lau-lii (Small-leafed-maile), a young woman, who becomes the wife of Maka-ku.

4. Maile-Pakaha, the younger sister of Maile-lau-lii, who becomes the wife of Puapua-kea.

Maka-kú, a rude and boastful son of Mars, at heart a bully, if not a coward, is represented as ever aching for a fight, in which his domineering spirit and rough-and-tumble ways for a time gave him the advantage over abler, but more modest, adversaries.

Page 93

Puapuakea, a man of genuine courage, hearing of the boastful achievements of Maka-kú, seeks him out and challenges him.

At the first contest they fought with javelins, ihe, each one taking his turn according to lot in casting his javelins to the full tale of the prescribed number; after which the other contestant did the same. Neither was victorious.

Next they fought with slings, each one having the right to sling forty stones at the other. In this conflict also neither one of them got the better of the other. The next trial was with stone-throwing. The result was still the same.

Now it was for them to try the classical Hawaiian game of lua. This was a strenuous form of contest that has many features in common with the panathlion of the ancient Hellenes, some points in common with boxing, and still more, perhaps, partakes of the character of the grand art of combat, wrestling. Since becoming acquainted with the fine Japanese art of jiu-jitsu, the author recognizes certain methods that were shared by them both. But to all of these it added the wild privileges of choking, bone-breaking, dislocating, eye-gouging, and the infliction of tortures and grips unmentionable and disreputable. At first the conflict was in suspense, victory favoring neither party; but as the contest went on Puapuakea showed a slight superiority, and at the finish he had bettered Maka-kú by three points, or ai ²⁰⁵, as the Hawaiians uniquely term it.

Footnote 205: (return) Ai, literally a food, a course.

The sisters, Maile-lau-lii and Maile-pakaha, who had been interested spectators of the contest, conceived a passionate liking for the two warriors and laid their plans in concert to capture them for themselves. Fortunately their preferences were not in conflict. Maile-lau-lii set her affections on Maka-ku, while the younger sister devoted herself to Pua-pua-kea.

The two men had previously allowed their fancies to range abroad at pleasure; but from this time they centered their hearts on these two Mailes and settled down to regular married life.

Interest in the actual performance of the hula ki’i was stimulated by a resort to byplay and buffoonery. One of the marionettes, for instance, points to some one in the audience; whereupon one of the hoopaa asks, “What do you want?” The marionette persists in its pointing. At length the interlocutor, as if divining the marionette’s wish, says: “Ah, you want So-and-so.” At this the marionette nods assent, and the hoopaa asks again, “Do you wish him to come to you?” The marionette expresses its delight and approval by nods and gestures, to the immense satisfaction of the audience, who join in derisive laughter at the expense of the person held up to ridicule.

Besides the marionettes already named among the characters found in the different hula-plays of the hula ki’i, the Page 94 author has heard mention of the following marionettes: Ku, Kini-ki’i, Hoo-lehelehe-ki’i, Ki’i-ki’i, and Nihi-aumoe.

Nihi-aumoe was a man without the incumbrance of a wife, an expert in the arts of intrigue and seduction. Nihi-aumoe is a word of very suggestive meaning, to walk softly at midnight. In Judge Andrews’s dictionary are found the following pertinent Hawaiian verses apropos of the word nihi:

[Translation.]

The marionette Ki’i-ki’i was a strenuous little fellow, an ilamuku, a marshal, or constable of the king. It was his duty to carry out with unrelenting rigor the commands of the alii, whether they bade him take possession of a taro patch, set fire to a house, or to steal upon a man at dead of night and dash out his brains while he slept.

Referring to the illustrations (pl. VIII), a judge of human nature can almost read the character of the libertine Nihi-aumoe written in his features—the flattened vertex, indicative of lacking reverence and fear, the ruffian strength of the broad face; and if one could observe the reverse of the picture he would note the flattened back-head, a feature that marks a large number of Hawaiian crania.

The songs that were cantillated to the hula ki’i express in some degree the peculiar libertinism of this hula, which differed from all others by many removes. They may be characterized as gossipy, sarcastic, ironical, scandal-mongering, dealing in satire, abuse, hitting right and left at social and personal vices—a cheese of rank flavor that is not to be partaken of too freely. It might be compared to the vaudeville in opera or to the genre picture in art.

Mele

Footnote 206: (return) Punana. Literally a nest; here a raised couch on the pola, which was a sheltered platform in the waist of a double canoe, corresponding to our cabin, for the use of chiefs and other people of distinction.

Footnote 207: (return) Kai-oa. The paddle-men; here a euphemism.

Footnote 208: (return) Wa’a. A euphemism for the human body.

Footnote 209: (return) Mawi. The hero of Polynesian mythology, whose name is usually spelled Maui, like the name of the island. Departure from the usual orthography is made in order to secure phonetic accuracy. The name of the hero is pronounced Máh-wee, not Mów-ee, as is the island. Sir George Gray, of New Zealand, following the usual orthography, has given a very full and interesting account of him in his Polynesian mythology.

Footnote 210: (return) Wewehi-loa. Another name for Wahie-loa, who is said to have been the grandfather of Wewehi. The word luau’i in the previous verse, meaning real father, is an archaic form. Another form is kua-u’i.

Footnote 211: (return) Puka kahiko. A strange story from Hawaiian mythology relates that originally the human anatomy was sadly deficient in that the terminal gate of the primae viæ was closed. Mawi applied his common-sense surgery to the repair of the defect and relieved the situation. Ua olelo ia i kinahi ua hana ia kanaka me ka hemahema no ka nele i ka hou puka ole ia ka okole, a na Mawi i hoopau i keia pilikia mamuli o kana hana akamai. Ua kapa ia keia puka ka puka kahiko.

[Translation.]

Song

The author has met with several variants to this mele, which do not greatly change its character. In one of these variants the following changes are to be noted:

To attempt a translation of these lines which are unadulterated slang:

Footnote 212: (return) Pikaka (full form pikakao). Dried up, juiceless.

The one who supplied the above lines expressed inability to understand their meaning, averring that they are “classical Hawaiian,” meaning, doubtless, that they are archaic slang. As to the ninth line, the practice of “sitting in the door” seems to have been the fashion with such folk as far back as the time of Solomon.

Let us picture this princess of Maui, this granddaughter of Wahieloa, Wewehi, as a Helen, with all of Helen’s frailty, a flirt-errant, luxurious in life, quickly deserting one lover for the arms of another; yet withal of such humanity and kindness of fascination that, at her death, or absence, all things mourned her—not as Lycidas was mourned:

but in some rude pagan fashion; all of which is wrought out and symbolized in the mele with such imagery as is native to the mind of the savage.

The attentive reader will not need be told that, as in many another piece out of Hawaii’s old-time legends, the path through this song is beset with euphuistic stumbling blocks. The purpose of language, says Talleyrand, is to conceal thought. The veil in this case is quite gauzy.

The language of the following song for the marionette dance, hula ki’i, as in the one previously given, is mostly of that Page 97 kind which the Hawaiians term olelo kapékepéke, or olelo huná, shifty talk, or secret talk. We might call it slang, though, it is not slang in the exact sense in which we use that word, applying it to the improvised counters of thought that gain currency in our daily speech until they find admission to the forum, the platform, and the dictionary. It is rather a cipher-speech, a method of concealing one’s meaning from all but the initiated, of which the Hawaiian, whether alii or commoner, was very fond. The people of the hula were famous for this sort of accomplishment and prided themselves not a little in it as an effectual means of giving appropriate flavor and gusto to their performances.

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

The translation has to be based largely on conjecture. The author of this bit of fun-making, which is couched in old-time slang, died without making known the key to his cipher, and no one whom the present writer has met with is able to unravel its full meaning.

Footnote 213: (return) Kau-kau. Conjectural meaning to point out some one in the audience, as the marionettes often did. People were thus sometimes inveigled in behind the curtain.

Footnote 214: (return) Hala-le. Said to mean a sop, with which one took up the juice or gravy of food; a choice morsel.

Footnote 215: (return) Ku-pou. To stoop over, from devotion to one’s own pursuits, from modesty, or from shame.

Footnote 216: (return) The meaning of this line has been matter for much conjecture. The author has finally adopted the suggestion embodied in the translation here given, which is a somewhat gross reference to the woman’s physical charms.

The following mele for the hula ki’i, in language colored by the same motive, was furnished by an accomplished practitioner who had traveled far and wide in the practice of her art, having been one of a company of hula dancers that attended the Columbian exposition in Chicago. It was her good Page 98 fortune also to reach the antipodes in her travels, and it was at Berlin, she says, that she witnessed for the first time the European counterpart of the hula ki’i, the “Punch and Judy” show:

Mele no ka Hula Ki’i

[Translation.]

Song for the Hula Ki’i

This translation is the result of much research, yet its absolute accuracy can not be vouched for. The most learned authorities (kaka-olelo) in old Hawaiian lore that have been found by the writer express themselves as greatly puzzled at the exact meaning of the mele just given. Some scholars, no doubt, would dub these nonsense-lines. The author can not consent to any such view. The old Hawaiians were too much in earnest to permit themselves to juggle with words in such fashion. They were fond of mystery and concealment, appreciated a joke, given to slang, but to string a lot of words together without meaning, after the fashion of a college student who delights to relieve his mind by shouting “Upidee, upida,” was not their way. “The people of the hula,” said one man, “had ways of fun-making peculiar to themselves.”

When the hula-dancer who communicated to the author the above song—a very accomplished and intelligent woman—was asked for information that would render possible its proper translation, she replied that her part was only that of a mouthpiece to repeat the words and to make appropriate gestures, he pono hula wale no, mere parrot-work. The language, she said, was such “classic” Hawaiian as to be beyond her understanding. Page 99 Here, again, is another song in argot, a coin of the same mintage as those just given:

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

Footnote 217: (return) Punohu. A compact mass of clouds, generally lying low in the heavens; a cloud-omen; also a rainbow that lies close to the earth, such as is formed when the sun is high in the heavens.

This is the language of symbolism. When Venus went about to ensnare Adonis, among her other wiles she warbled to him of mountains, dales, and pleasant fountains.

The mele now presented is of an entirely different character from those that have just preceded. It is said to have been the joint composition of the high chief Keiki-o-ewa of Kauai, at one time the kahu of Prince Moses, and of Kapihe, a distinguished poet—haku-mele—and prophet. (To Kapihe is ascribed the prophetic and oracular utterance, E iho ana o luna, e pii ana o lalo; e ku ana ka paia; e moe ana kaula; e kau ana kau-huhu—o lani iluna, o honua ilalo—“The high shall be brought low, the lowly uplifted; the defenses shall stand; the prophet shall lie low; the mountain walls shall abide—heaven above, earth beneath.”)

This next poem may be regarded as an epithalamium, the celebration of the mystery and bliss of the wedding night, the hoáo ana of a high chief and his high-born kapu sister. The murmur of the breeze, the fury of the winds, the heat of the sun, the sacrificial ovens, all are symbols that set forth the emotions, experiences, and mysteries of the night:

Page 100

Mele

(Ko’ihonua)

Footnote 218: (return) Wanahili. A princess of the mythological period belonging to Puna, Hawaii.

Footnote 219: (return) Manu’a. A king of Hilo, the son of Kane-hili, famous for his skill in spear-throwing, maika-rolling, and all athletic exercises. He was united in marriage, ho-ao, to the lovely princess Wanahili. Tradition deals with Manua as a very lovable character.

Footnote 220: (return) Pu kau kama. The conch (pu) is figured as the herald of fame. Kau is used in the sense of to set on high, in contrast with such a word as waiho, to set down. Kama is the word of dignity for children.

Footnote 221: (return) Pu leina. It is asserted on good authority that the triton (pu), when approached in its ocean habitat, will often make sudden and extraordinary leaps in an effort to escape. There is special reference here to the famous conch known in Hawaiian story as Kiha-pu. It was credited with supernatural powers as a kupua. During the reign of Umi, son of Liloa, it was stolen from the heiau in Waipio valley and came into the hands of god Kane. In his wild awa-drinking revels the god terrified Umi and his people by sounding nightly blasts with the conch. The shell was finally restored to King Umi by the superhuman aid of the famous dog Puapua-lena-lena.

Footnote 222: (return) Kiha-nui a Piilani. Son of Piilani, a king of Maui. He is credited with the formidable engineering work of making a paved road over the mountain palis of Koolau, Maui.

Footnote 223: (return) Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama. This Kauhi, as his long title indicates, was the son of the famous king, Kama-lala-walu, and succeeded his father in the kingship over Maui and, probably, Lanai. Kama-lala-walu had a long and prosperous reign, which ended, however, in disaster. Acting on the erroneous reports of his son Kauhi, whom he had sent to spy out the land, he invaded the kingdom of Lono-i-ka-makahiki on Hawaii, was wounded and defeated in battle, taken prisoner, and offered up as a sacrifice on the altar of Lono’s god, preferring that death, it is said, to the ignominy of release.

Footnote 224: (return) I-olena. Roving, shifty, lustful.

Footnote 225: (return) Kanaka hoali mauna. Man who moved mountains; an epithet of compliment applied perhaps to Kiha, above mentioned, or to the king mentioned in the next verse, Kekaulike.

Footnote 226: (return) Ku’i hono i ka moku. Who bound together into one (state) the islands Maui, Molokai, Lanai, and Kahoolawe. This was, it is said, Kekaulike, the fifth king of Maui after Kama-lala-walu. At his death he was succeeded by Kamehameha-nui—to be distinguished from the Kamehameha of Hawaii—and he in turn by the famous warrior-king Kahekili, who routed the invading army of Kalaniopuu, king of Hawaii, on the sand plains of Wailuku.

Footnote 227: (return) I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá. This verse presents grammatical difficulties. The word I implies the imperative, a form of request or demand, though that is probably not the intent. It seems to be a means, authorized by poetical license, of ascribing honor and tabu-glory to the name of the person eulogized, who, the context leads the author to think, was Kekaulike. The island names other than that of Maui seem to have been thrown in for poetical effect, as that king, in the opinion of the author, had no power over Kauai, Oahu, or Hawaii. The purpose may have been to assert that his glory reached to those islands.

Footnote 228: (return) Keawe enaena. Keawe, whose tabu was hot as a burning oven. Presumably Keawe, the son of Umi, is the one meant.

Footnote 229: (return) Naulu. The sea-breeze at Waimea, Kauai.

Footnote 230: (return) Hala-lii. A sandy plain on Niihau, where grows a variety of sugar-cane that lies largely covered by the loose soil, ke ko eli o Hala-lii.

Footnote 231: (return) Li’u-la. The mirage, a common phenomenon on Niihau, and especially at Mana, on Kauai.

[Translation.]

Song

(Distinct utterance)

The mele next given takes its local color from Kauai and brings vividly to mind the experiences of one who has climbed the mountain walls pali, that buffet the winds of its northern coast.

Mele

Footnote 232: (return) Laiea-kua. A wind in Kalalau that blows for a time from the mountains and then, it is said, veers to the north, so that it comes from the direction of a secondary valley, Kolo-kini, a branch of Kalalau. The bard describes it as continuing to blow for twelve nights before It shifts, an instance, probably, of poetic license.

Footnote 233: (return) Ko’a-mano. A part of the ocean into which the stream Wai-aloha falls.

Footnote 234: (return) Waha iho. With mouth that yawns downward, referring, doubtless, to the overarching of the pali, precipice. The same figure is applied to the back (kua) of the traveler who climbs it.

Footnote 235: (return) Elision of the final a in ana.

[Translation.]

Song

The mind of the ancient bard was so narrowly centered on the small plot his imagination cultivated that he disregarded the outside world, forgetting that it could not gaze upon the scenes which filled his eyes.

The valley of Kalalau from its deep recess in the northwestern coast of Kauai looks out upon the heaving waters of the Pacific. The mountain walls of the valley are abrupt, often overhanging. Viewed from the ocean, the cliffs are piled one upon another like the buttresses of a Gothic cathedral. The ocean is often stormy, and during several months in the year forbids intercourse with other parts of the island, save as the hardy traveler makes his way along precipitous mountain trails.

The hula ala’a-papa, hula ipu, hula pa-ipu (or kuolo), the hula hoo-naná, and the hula ki’i were all performed to the accompaniment of the ipu or calabash, and, being the only ones that were so accompanied, if the author is correctly informed, they may be classed together under one head as the calabash hulas.

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XII.—THE HULA PAHU

The hula pahu was so named from the pahu, ²³⁶ or drum, that was its chief instrument of musical accompaniment (pl. x).

Footnote 236: (return) Full form, pahu-hula.

It is not often that the story of an institution can be so closely fitted to the landmarks of history as in the case of this hula; and this comes about through our knowledge of the history of the pahu itself. Tradition, direct and reliable, informs us that the credit of introducing the big drum belongs to La’a. This chief flourished between five and six centuries ago, and from having spent most of his life in the lands to the south, which the ancient Hawaiians called Kahiki, was himself generally styled La’a-mai-Kahiki (La’a-from-Kahiki). The young man was of a volatile disposition, given to pleasure, and it is evident that the big drum he brought with him to Hawaii on one of his voyages from Kahiki was in his eyes by no means the least important piece of baggage that freighted his canoes. On nearing the land he waked the echoes with the stirring tones of his drum, which so astonished the people that they followed him from point to point along the coast and heaped favors upon him whenever he came ashore.

La’a was an enthusiastic patron of the hula and is said to have made a tour of the islands, in which he instructed the natives in new forms of this seductive pastime, one of which was the hula ka-eke.

There is reason to believe, it seems, that the original use of the pahu was in connection with the services of the temple, and that its adaptation to the halau was simply a transference from one to another religious use.

The hula pahu was preeminently a performance of formal and dignified character, not such as would be extemporized for the amusement of an irreverent company. Like all the formal hulas, it was tabu, by which the Hawaiians meant that it was a religious service, or so closely associated with the notion of worship as to make it an irreverence to trifle with it. For this reason as well as for its intrinsic dignity its performance was reserved for the most distinguished guests and the most notable occasions.

Both classes of actors took part in the performance of the hula pahu, the olapa contributing the mele as they stood and went through the motions of the dance, while the hoopaa maintained the kneeling position and operated the big drum with the left hand. While his left hand was thus engaged, the Page 104 musician with a thong held in his right hand struck a tiny drum, the pu-niu, that was conveniently strapped to the thigh of the same side. As its name signifies, the pu-niu was made from coconut shell, being headed with fish-skin.

The harmonious and rhythmic timing of these two instruments called for strict attention on the part of the performer. The pahu, having a tone of lower pitch and greater volume than the other, was naturally sounded at longer intervals, while the pu-niu delivered its sharp crisp tones in closer order.

Mele

(Ko’i-honua)

[Translation.]

Song

(Bombastic style)

Mele

Footnote 237: (return) Lehua makanoe. The lehua trees that grow on the top of Wai-aleale, the mountain mass of Kauai, are of peculiar form, low, stunted, and so furzy as to be almost thorny, kuku, as mentioned in the next line.

Footnote 238: (return) Ai-po. A swamp that occupies the summit basin of the mountain, in and about which the thorny lehua trees above mentioned stand as a fringe.

Footnote 239: (return) Hau-a-iliki. A word made up of hau, dew or frost, and iliki, to smite. The a is merely a connective.

Footnote 240: (return) Mokihana. The name of a region on the flank of Wai-aleale, also a plant that grows there, whose berry is fragrant and is used in making wreaths.

Footnote 241: (return) Ka-ula. A small rocky island visible from Kauai.

Footnote 242: (return) Malua-kele. A wind.

Footnote 243: (return) Halau. The shed or house which sheltered the canoe, wa’a, which latter, as we have seen, was often used figuratively to mean the human body, especially the body of a woman. Kamau ke ea i ka halau might be translated “persistent the breath from her body.” “There’s kames o’ hinny ’tween my luve’s lips.”

Footnote 244: (return) Wawae-noho. Literally the foot that abides; it is the name of a place. Here it is to be understood as meaning constancy. It is an instance in which the concrete stands for the abstract.

Footnote 245: (return) Hauna. An odor. In this connection it means the odor that hangs about a human habitation. The hidden allusion, it is needless to say, is to sexual attractiveness.

Page 106

[Translation.]

Song

The imagery of this poem is peculiarly obscure and the meaning difficult of translation. The allusions are so local and special that their meaning does not carry to a distance.

Wai-aleale is the central mountain mass of Kauai, about 6,000 feet high. Its summit, a cold, fog-swept wilderness of swamp and lake beset with dwarfish growths of lehua, is used as the symbol of a woman, impulsively kind, yet in turn passionate and disdainful. The physical attributes of the mountain are ascribed to her, its spells of frosty coldness, its gloom and distance, its fickleness of weather, the repellant hirsuteness of the stunted vegetation that fringes the central swamp—these things are described as symbols of her temper, character, and physical make-up. The bloom and herbage of the wilderness, much pelted by the storm, are figures to represent her physical charms. But spite of all these faults and imperfections, a perennial fragrance, as of mokihana, clings to her person, and she is the object of devoted love, capable of weaving the spell of fascination about her victims.

This poem furnishes a good example of a peculiarity that often is an obstacle to the understanding of Hawaiian poetry. It is the breaking up of the composition into a number of parts that have but a loose seeming connection the one with the other.

Page 107

XIII.—THE HULA ÚLI-ULÍ

The hula úli-ulí was so called from the rattle which was its sole instrument of accompaniment. This consisted of a small gourd about the size of a large orange, into the cavity of which were put shot-like seeds, like those of the canna; a handle was then attached (pl. xi).

The actors who took part in this hula belonged, it is said, to the class termed hoopaa, and went through with the performance while kneeling or squatting, as has been described. While cantillating the mele they held the rattle, úli-ulí, in the right hand, shaking it against the palm of the other hand or the thigh, or making excursions in one direction and another. In some performances of this hula which the author has witnessed the olapa also took part, in one case a woman, who stood and cantillated the song with movement and gesture, while the hoopaa devoted themselves exclusively to handling the úli-ulí rattles.

The sacrificial offerings that preceded the old-time performances of this hula are said to have been awa and a roast porkling, in honor of the goddess Laka.

If the dignity and quality of the meles now used, or reported to have been used, in the hula úli-ulí are to be taken as any criterion of the quality and dignity of this hula, one has to conclude that it must be assigned to a rank below that of some others, such, for instance, as the ala’a-papa, pa-ipu, Pele, and others.

David Malo, the Hawaiian historian, author of Ka Moolelo Hawaii, ²⁴⁶ in the short chapter that he devotes to the hula, mentions only ten hulas by name, the ka-laau, pa’i-umauma, pahu, pahu’a, ala’a-papa, pa’i-pa’i, pa-ipu, ulili, kolani, and the kielei. Ulili is but another form of the word úli-ulí. Any utterance of Malo is to be received seriously; but it seems doubtful if he deliberately selected for mention the ten hulas that were really the most important. It seems more probable that he set down the first ten that stood forth prominent in his memory. It was not Malo’s habit, nor part of his education, to make an exhaustive list of sports and games, or in fact of anything. He spoke of what occurred to him. It must also be remembered that, being an ardent convert to Christianity, Page 108 Malo felt himself conscience-bound to set himself in opposition to the amusements, sports, and games of his people, and he was unable, apparently, to see in them any good whatsoever. Malo was a man of uncompromising honesty and rigidity of principles. His nature, acting under the new influences that surrounded him after the introduction of Christianity, made it impossible for him to discriminate calmly between the good and the pernicious, between the purely human and poetic and the depraved elements in the sports practised by his people during their period of heathenism. There was nothing halfway about Malo. Having abandoned a system, his nature compelled him to denounce it root and branch.

Footnote 246: (return) Translated by N.B. Emerson, M.D., under the title “Hawaiian Antiquities,” and published by the B.P. Bishop Museum. Hawaiian Gazette Company (Limited), Honolulu, 1903.

The first mele here offered as an accompaniment to this hula can boast of no great antiquity; it belongs to the middle of the nineteenth century, and was the product of some gallant at a time when princes and princesses abounded in Hawaii:

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

This mele is said to have been the production of Prince Page 110 William Lunalilo—afterward King of the Hawaiian islands—and to have been addressed to the Princess Victoria Kamamalu, whom he sought in marriage. Both of them inherited high chief rank, and their offspring, according to Hawaiian usage, would have outranked her brothers, kings Kamehameha IV and V. Selfish and political considerations, therefore, forbade the match, and thereby hangs a tale, the shadow of which darkens this song. Every lover is one part poet; and Lunalilo, even without the love-flame, was more than one part poet.

The poem shows the influence of foreign ways and teachings and the pressure of the new environment that had entered Hawaii, in its form, in the moderation of its language and imagery, and in the coherence of its parts; at the same time the spirit of the song and the color of its native imagery mark it as the product of a Polynesian mind.

According to the author’s interpretation of the song, Alekoki (verse 2), a name applied to a portion of the Nuuanu stream lower down than the basin and falls of Kapena (Kahiwai a o Kapena—verse 14), symbolizes a flame that may once have warmed the singer’s imagination, but which he discards in favor of his new love, the pool of Kapena. The rain, which prefers to linger in the upland regions of Nuuanu (verses 3 and 4) and which often reaches not the lower levels, typifies his brooding affection. The cold, the storm, and the tempest that rage at Mamala (verse 21)—a name given to the ocean just outside Honolulu harbor—and that fill the heavens with driving scud (verses 27 and 28) represent the violent opposition in high quarters to the love-match. The tale-bearing wind, makani ahai-lono (verse 29), refers, no doubt, to the storm of scandal. The use of the place-names Ma’ema’e and Mauna-ala seem to indicate Nuuanu as the residence of the princess.

Mele

PALE I

[Translation.]

Song

CANTO I

This mele comes from Kauai, an Island in many respects individualized from the other parts of the group and that seems to have been the nurse of a more delicate imagination than was wont to flourish elsewhere. Its tone is archaic, and it has the rare merit of not transfusing the more crudely erotic human emotions into the romantic sentiments inspired by nature.

The Hawaiians dearly loved fable and allegory. Argument or truth, dressed out in such fanciful garb, gained double force and acceptance. We may not be able to follow a poet in his wanderings; his local allusions may obscure to us much of his meaning; the doctrine of his allegory may be to us largely a riddle; and the connection between the body of its thought and illustration and the application, or solution, of the poetical conundrum may be past our comprehension; but the Page 112 play of the poet’s fancy, whether childish or mature, is an interesting study, and brings us closer in human sympathy to the people who took pleasure in such things.

In translating this poem, while not following literally the language of the poet, the aim has been to hit the target of his deeper meaning, without hopelessly involving the reader in the complexities of Hawaiian color and local topography. A few words of explanation must suffice.

The Makani Inu-wai (verse 1)—known to all the islands—is a wind that dries up vegetation, literally a water-drinking wind.

The Naulu (verse 3) is the ordinary sea-breeze at Waimea, Kauai, sometimes accompanied by showers.

Hala-li’i (verse 5) is a sandy plain on Niihau, and the peculiarity of its canes is that they sprawl along on the ground, and are often to a considerable extent covered by the loose soil.

Lehua (verse 6) is the well-known bird-island, lying north of Niihau and visible from the Waimea side of Kauai.

The wreath-maker, haku-lei (verse 7), who dwells at Waimea, is perhaps the ocean-vapor, or the moist sea-breeze, or, it may be, some figment of the poet’s imagination—the author can not make out exactly what.

The hinahina (verse 14), a native geranium, is a mountain shrub that stands about 3 feet high, with silver-gray leaves.

Maka-weli, Maka-li’i, Koae’a, and Pa-ie-ie are names of places on Kauai.

Puu-ka-Pele (verse 20) as the name indicates, is a volcanic hill, situated near Waimea.

The key or answer (puana), to the allegory given in verse 20, Ke kahuna kalai-hoe o Puu-ka-Pele, the paddle-making kahuna of Pele’s mount, when declared by the poet (haku-mele), is not very informing to the foreign mind; but to the Hawaiian auditor it, no doubt, took the place of our haec fabula docet, and it at least showed that the poet was not without an intelligent motive. In the poem in point the author acknowledges his inability to make connection between it and the body of the song.

One merit we must concede to Hawaiian poetry, it wastes no time in slow approach. The first stroke of the artist places the auditor in medias res.

Page 113

XIV.—THE HULA PUÍLI

The character of a hula was determined to some extent by the nature of the musical instrument that was its accompaniment. In the hula puíli it certainly seems as if one could discern the influence of the rude, but effective, instrument that was its musical adjunct. This instrument, the puíli (fig. 1), consisted of a section of bamboo from which one node with its diaphragm had been removed and the hollow joint at that end split up for a considerable distance into fine divisions, which gave forth a breezy rustling when the instrument was struck or shaken.

The performers, all of them hoopaa, were often placed in two rows, seated or kneeling and facing one another, thus favoring a responsive action in the use of the puíli as well as in the cantillation of the song. One division would sometimes shake and brandish their instruments, while the others remained quiet, or both divisions would perform at once, each individual clashing one puíli against the other one held by himself, or against that of his vis-a-vis; or they might toss them back and forth to each other, one bamboo passing another in mid air.

While the hula puíli is undeniably a performance of classical antiquity, it is not to be regarded as of great dignity or importance as compared with many other hulas. Its character, like that of the meles associated with it, is light and trivial.

The mele next presented is by no means a modern production. It seems to be the work of some unknown author, a fragment of folklore, it might be called by some, that has drifted down to the present generation and then been put to service in the hula. If hitherto the word folklore has not been used it is not from any prejudice against it, but rather from a feeling that there exists an inclination to stretch the application of it beyond its true limits and to make it include popular songs, stories, myths, and the like, regardless of its fitness of application. Some writers, no doubt, would apply this vague term to a large part of the poetical pieces which are given in this book.

Page 114

On the same principle, why should they not apply the term folklore to the myths and stories that make up the body of Roman and Greek mythology? The present author reserves the term folklore for application to those unappropriated scraps of popular song, story, myth, and superstition that have drifted down the stream of antiquity and that reach us in the scrap-bag of popular memory, often bearing in their battered forms the evidence of long use.

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

The writer has rescued the following fragment from the wastebasket of Hawaiian song. A lean-to of modern verse has been omitted; it was evidently added within a generation:

Mele

Footnote 247: (return) Kawaihoa. The southern point of Niihau, which is to the west of Kauai, the evident standpoint of the poet, and therefore “below” Kauai.

Footnote 248: (return) Milo-lii. A valley on the northwestern angle of Kauai, a precipitous region, in which travel from one point to another by land is almost impossible.

Footnote 249: (return) Makua-iki. Literally “little father,” a name given to an overhanging pali, where was provided a hanging ladder to make travel possible. The series of palis in this region comes to an end at Milo-lii.

Footnote 250: (return) The Malua was a wind, often so dry that it sucked up the moisture from the land and destroyed the tender vegetation.

Footnote 251: (return) Panaewa was a woodland region much talked of in poetry and song.

Footnote 252: (return) Hopoe was a beautiful young woman, a friend of Hiiaka, and was persecuted by Pele owing to jealousy. One of the forms in which she as a divinity showed herself was as a lehua tree in full bloom.

[Translation.]

Song

What is the argument of this poem? A passion-stricken swain, or perhaps a woman, cries to Malua to bring relief to his love-smart, to give drink to the parched mamane buds—emblems of human feeling. In contrast to his own distress, he points to the birds caroling in the trees, reveling in the nectar of lehua bloom, intoxicated with the scent of nature’s garden. What answer does the lovelorn swain receive from the nymph he adores? In lines 11 and 12 she banteringly asks him if he took her to be like the traditional lehua tree of Hopoe, of which men stood in awe as a sort of divinity, not daring to pluck its flowers? It is as if the woman had asked—if the poet’s meaning is rightly interpreted—“Did you really think me plighted to vestal vows, a tree whose bloom man was forbidden to pluck?”

Page 116

XV.—THE HULA KA-LAAU

The hula ka-laau (ka, to strike; laau, wood) was named from the instruments of wood used in producing the accompaniment, a sort of xylophone, in which one piece of resonant wood was struck against another. Both divisions of the performers, the hoopaa and the olapa, took part and each division was provided with the instruments. The cantillation was done sometimes by one division alone, sometimes by both divisions in unison, or one division would answer the other, a responsive chanting that was termed haawe aku, haawe mai—“to give, to return.”

Ellis gives a quotable description of this hula, which he calls the “hura ka raau:”

Five musicians advanced first, each, with a staff in his left hand, five or six feet long, about three or four inches in diameter at one end, and tapering off to a point at the other. In his right hand he held a small stick of hard wood, six or nine inches long, with which he commenced his music by striking the small stick on the larger one, beating time all the while with his right foot on a stone placed on the ground beside him for that purpose. Six women, fantastically dressed in yellow tapas, crowned, with garlands of flowers, having also wreaths of native manufacture, of the sweet-scented flowers of the gardenia, on their necks, and branches of the fragrant mairi (another native plant,) bound round their ankles, now made their way by couples through the crowd, and, arriving at the area, on one side of which the musicians stood, began their dance. Their movements were slow, and, though not always graceful, exhibited nothing offensive to modest propriety. Both musicians and dancers alternately chanted songs in honor of former gods and chiefs of the islands, apparently much to the gratification of the spectators. (Polynesian Researches, by William Ellis, IV, 78-79, London, 1836.)

The mele here first presented is said to be an ancient mele that has been modified and adapted to the glorification of that astute politician, genial companion, and pleasure-loving king, Kalakaua.

It was not an uncommon thing for one chief to appropriate the mele inoa of another chief. By substituting one name for another, by changing a genealogy, or some such trifle, the skin of the lion, so to speak, could be made to cover with more or less grace and to serve as an apparel of masquerade for the ass, and without interruption so long as there was no lion, or lion’s whelp, to do the unmasking.

The poets who composed the mele for a king have been spoken of as “the king’s washtubs.” Mele inoa were not crown-jewels Page 117 to be passed from one incumbent of the throne to another. The practice of appropriating the mele inoa composed in honor of another king and of another line was one that grew up with the decadence of honor in times of degeneracy.

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

The proper names Wahine-kapu, Uwe-kahuna, and Ka-au-e-a in the sixth, seventh, and eighth verses are localities, cliffs, bluffs, precipices, etc., in and about the great caldera of Kilauea, following up the mention (in the fifth verse) of that giant among the world’s active volcanoes.

The purpose of the poem seems to be to magnify the prowess of this once famous king as a captivator of the hearts and loving attentions of the fair sex.

Mele

Footnote 253: (return) Opua means a distinct cloud-pile, an omen, a weather-sign.

Footnote 254: (return) The word na-ú refers to a sportive contest involving a trial of lung-power, that was practised by the youth of Kona, Hawaii, as well as of other places. They stood on the shore at sunset, and as the lower limb of the sun touched the ocean horizon each one, having filled his lungs to the utmost, began the utterance of the sound na-u-u-u-u, which he must, according to the rules of the game, maintain continuously until the sun had disappeared, a lapse of about two minutes’ time. This must be done without taking fresh breath. Anyone inhaling more air into his lungs or intermitting the utterance of the sound was compelled by the umpire to withdraw from the contest and to sit down, while anyone who maintained the droning utterance during the prescribed time was declared victor. It was no mean trial.

[Translation.]

Song

The author of this love-song, mele ipo, is said to have been Kalola, a widow of Kamehameha I, at a time when she was an old woman; the place was Lahaina, and the occasion an amour between Liholiho (Kamehameha II) and a woman of rank. The last two verses of the poem have been omitted from the present somewhat free, yet faithful translation, as they do not seem to be of interest or pertinent from our point of view, and there is internal evidence that they were added as an afterthought.

The hulas on the various islands differed somewhat from one another. In general, it may be said that on Kauai they were presented with more spirit and in greater variety than in other parts of the group. The following account will illustrate this fact:

About the year 1870 the late Queen Emma made the tour of the island of Kauai, and at some places the hula was performed as a recreation in her honor. The hula ka-laau was thus presented; it was marked, however, by such peculiarities as to make it hardly recognizable as being the same performance as the one elsewhere known by that name. As given on Kauai, both the olapa and the hoopaa took part, as they do on the Page 119] other islands, but in the Kauai performance the olapa alone handled the two sticks of the xylophone, which in other parts formed the sole instrument of musical accompaniment to this hula. Other striking novelties also were introduced. The olapa held between their toes small sticks with which they beat upon a resonant beam of wood that lay on the floor, thus producing tones of a low pitch. Another departure from the usual style of this hula was that the hoopaa, at the same time, devoted themselves with the right hand to playing upon the pu-niu, the small drum, while with the left they developed the deep bass of the pahu. The result of this outre combination must have been truly remarkable.

It is a matter of observation that on the island of Kauai both the special features of its spoken language and the character of its myths and legends indicate a closer relationship to the groups of the southern Pacific, to which the Hawaiian people owe their origin, than do those of the other islands of the Hawaiian group.

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XVI.—THE HULA ÍLI-ÍLI

The hula íli-íli, pebble-dance, was a performance of the classical times, in which, according to one who has witnessed it, the olapa alone took part. The dancers held in each hand a couple of pebbles, ili-ili—hence the name of the dance—which they managed to clash against each other, after the fashion of castanets, thus producing a rude music of much the same quality as that elicited from the “bones” in our minstrel performances. According to another witness, the drum also was sometimes used in connection with the pebbles as an accompaniment to this hula.

The ili-ili was at times a hula of intensity—that is to say, was acted with that stress of voice and manner which the Hawaiians termed ai-ha’a; but it seems to have been more often performed in that quiet natural tone of voice and of manner termed ko’i-honua, which may be likened to utterance in low relief.

The author can present only the fragment of a song to illustrate this hula:

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

Wai-pi’o, the scene of this idyl, is a valley deep and broad which the elements have scooped out in the windward exposure of Hawaii, and scarce needs mention to Hawaiian Page 121 tourists. Hi’i-lawe is one of several high waterfalls that leap from the world of clouds into the valley-basin.

Kahuli is a fanciful name applied to the beautiful and unique genus of tree-shells (Achatinella), plate XII, that inhabit the Hawaiian woods. The natives are persuaded that these shells have the power of chirping a song of their own, and the writer has often heard the note which they ascribe to them; but to his ear it was indistinguishable from the piping of the cricket. This is the song that the natives credit to the tree-shells:

Mele

[Translation.]

Song of the Tree-shell

This little piece of rustic imagination is said to have been used in the hula, but in connection with what dance the author has not been able to learn.

Footnote 255: (return) The akolea is a fern (by some classed as a Polypodium) which, according to Doctor Hillebrand (Flora of the Hawaiian Islands), “sustains its extraordinary length by the circinnate tips which twine round the branches of neighboring shrubs or trees.”

Footnote 256: (return) Kolea. The red-breasted plover.

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XVII.—THE HULA KÁ-ÉKE-ÉKE

The kaekeeke was a formal hula worthy of high consideration. Some authorities assert that the performers in this dance were chosen from the hoopaa alone, who, it will be remembered, maintained the kneeling position, while, according to another authority, the olapa also took part in it. There is no reason for doubting the sincerity of both these witnesses. The disagreement probably arose from hasty generalization. One is reminded of the wise Hawaiian saw, already noted, “Do not think that your halau holds all the knowledge.”

This hula took its name from the simple instrument that formed its musical accompaniment. This consisted of a single division of the long-jointed bamboo indigenous to Hawaii, which was left open at one end. (The varieties of bamboo imported from China or the East Indies have shorter joints and thicker walls, and will not answer the purpose, being not sufficiently resonant.) The joints used in the kaekeeke were of different sizes and lengths, thus producing tones of various pitch. The performer held one in each hand and the tone was elicited by striking the base of the cylinder sharply against the floor or some firm, nonresonant body.

On making actual trial of the kaekeeke, in order to prove by experience its musical quality and capabilities, the writer’s pleasure was as great as his surprise when he found it capable of producing musical tones of great purity and of the finest quality. Experiment soon satisfied him that for the best production of the tone it was necessary to strike the bamboo cylinder smartly upon some firm, inelastic substance, such as a bag of sand. The tone produced was of crystalline purity, and by varying the size and length of the cylinders it proved possible to represent a complete musical scale. The instrument was the germ of the modern organ.

The first mele to be presented partakes of the nature of the allegory, a form of composition not a little affected by the Hawaiians:

Mele

[Translation.]

Song

The scene of this idyl, this love-song, mele hoipoipo, is Hamakua, a district on the windward side of Hawaii, subject to rain-squalls. The poet in his allegory represents himself as a stranger sitting in a pandanus grove, ulu hala (verse 2); sheltering himself from a rain-squall by crouching behind a rock, ua pe’epe’e pohaku (verse 4); shifting about on account of the veering of the wind, luli-luli malie iho (verse 6). Interpreting this figuratively, Hamakua, no doubt, is the woman in the case; the grove an emblem of her personality and physical charms; the rain-squall, of her changeful moods and passions. The shifting about of the traveler to meet the veering of the wind would seem to mean the man’s diplomatic efforts to deal with the woman’s varying caprices and outbursts.

He now takes up a parable about some creature, a child of the cliff—Hamakua’s ocean boundary is mostly a precipitous wall—which he represents as a hand with five buds. Addressing it as a servant, he bids this creature twine a Page 124 wreath sufficient for his love, kui oe a lawa (verse 9), I lei no ku’u aloha (verse 10). This creature with five buds, what is it but the human hand, the errand-carrier of man’s desire, makemake (verse 11)? The pali, by the way, is a figure often used by Hawaiian poets to mean the glory and dignity of the human body.

That is a fine imaginative touch in which the poet illustrates the power of the human hand to kindle love in one that is cold-hearted, as if he had declared the hand itself to be not only the wreath-maker, but the very wreath that is to encircle and warm into response the unresponsive loved one, I lei hooheno no ke aloha ole (verse 12).

Differences of physical environment, of social convention, of accepted moral and esthetic standards interpose seemingly impassable barriers between us and the savage mind, but at the touch of an all-pervading human sympathy these barriers dissolve into very thin air.

Mele

Footnote 257: (return) Auwahi (a word not found in any dictionary) is said by a scholarly Hawaiian to be an archaic form of the word uwahi, or uahi (milk of fire), smoke, Kahiki-nui is a dry region and the wind (makani) often fills the air with dust.

Footnote 258: (return) Kua lei ahi. No Hawaiian has been found who professes to know the true meaning of these words. The translation of them here given is, therefore, purely formal.

Footnote 259: (return) Pa-ú halaká. An expression sometimes applied to the hand when used as a shield to one’s modesty; here it is said of the ocean (kai) when one’s hody is immersed in it.

Footnote 260: (return) Hana-maló. A cape that lies between Kawaihae and Kailua in north Kona.

Footnote 261: (return) Ewa lewá. In this reading the author has followed the authoritative suggestion of a Hawaiian expert, substituting it for that first given by another, which was elewa. The latter was without discoverable meaning. Even as now, given conjectures as to its meaning are at variance. The one followed presents the less difficulty.

Footnote 262: (return) Palamoa. The name of a virulent kupua that acted as errand-carrier and agent for sorcerers (kahuna ánaaná); also the name of a beautiful grass found on Hawaii that has a pretty red seed. Following the line of least resistance, the latter meaning has been adopted; in it is found a generic expression for the leafy covering of the island.

Footnote 263: (return) Mauna-kea and Mauna-loa. The two well-known mountains of the big island of Hawaii.

Footnote 264: (return) Maile-hahei. Said to be a hill in Kona.

Footnote 265: (return) Kilohana and Hu’e-hu’e. The names of two hills in Kona, Hawaii.

Page 125

[Translation.]

Song

This love-song—mele hoipoipo—which would be the despair of a strict literalist—what is it all about? A lover in Kahiki-nui—of the softer sex, it would appear— looks across the wind-swept channel and sends her thoughts lovingly, yearningly, over to Kona of Hawaii, which district she personifies as her lover. The mountains and plains, valleys and capes of its landscapes, are to her the parts and features of her beloved. Even in the ocean that flows between her and him, and which has often covered her nakedness as with a robe, she finds a link in the chain of association.

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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

Footnote 266: (return) Lehua. See plate XIII.

Footnote 267: (return) 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: (return) 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: (return) 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: (return) Manu o Kaáe (Manu-o-Kaáe it might be written) is said to have been a goddess, one of the family of Pele, a sister of the sea nymph Moana-nui-ka-lehua, whose dominion was in the waters between Oahu and Kauai. She is said to have had the gift of eloquence.

Footnote 271: (return) Pe-káu refers to the ranks and classes of the gods.

Footnote 272: (return) Pe-ka-naná refers to men, their ranks and classes.

[Translation.]

Power to Remove Tabu

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

[Translation.]

Tabu-lifting Prayer (to Laka)

Footnote 273: (return) 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: (return) Ku-wá. It has cost much time and trouble to dig out the meaning of this word. The fundamental notion is that contained in its two parts, ku, to stand, and wa, an interval or space, the whole meaning to arrange or set in orderly intervals.

Footnote 275: (return) La-ká. A Tahitian name for the tree which in Hawaii is called lehua, or ohia. In verse 3 the Hawaiian name ohia and the Tahitian laká (accented on the final syllable, thus distinguishing it from the name of the goddess Láka, with which it has no discoverable connection) are combined in one form as an appellation of the god Ku-ku-ka-ohia-Laká. This is a notable instance of the survival of a word as a sacred epithet in a liturgy, which otherwise, had been lost to the language.

Footnote 276: (return) 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: (return) Kú-i-kú-i. The same as the tree now called ku-kú-i, the tree whose nuts were used as candles and flambeaus. The Samoan name of the same tree is tú-i-tú-i.

But even now, when the tabu has been removed and the assembly is supposed to have assumed an informal character, before they may indulge themselves in informalities, there remains to be chanted a dismissing prayer, pule hooku’u, in which all voices must join:

Page 129

Pule Hooku’u

[Translation.]

Dismissing Prayer

Footnote 278: (return) 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: (return) Huli-wale. To turn about, here used as the name of a place, is evidently intended figuratively to stand for mental indecision.

Footnote 280: (return) 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

[Translation.]

Song

Footnote 281: (return) Kéha is an elegant expression for the side of the head.

Footnote 282: (return) Hi’o-lani, literally to turn the side to heaven, is a classic expression of refinement.

Footnote 283: (return) 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: (return) 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: (return) He kaula no Kane. A literal translation would be, a prophet of Kane.

Page 131

Kane, the chief god of the Hawaiian pantheon, in company with other immortals, his boon companions, met in revelry on the heights bounding Wai-pi’o valley. With each potation of awa they sounded a blast upon their conch-shells, and the racket was almost continuous from the setting of the sun until drowsiness overcame them or the coming of day put an end to their revels.

The tumult of sound made it impossible for the priests to perform acceptably the offices of religion, and the pious king, Liloa, was distressed beyond measure. The whole valley was disturbed and troubled with forebodings at the suspension of divine worship.

The chief offender was Kane himself. The trumpet which he held to his lips was a conch of extraordinary size (pl. XIV) and credited with a divine origin and the possession of supernatural power; its note was heard above all the others. This shell, the famed Kiha-pú, had been stolen from the heiau of Paka’a-lána, Liloa’s temple in Waipi’o valley, and-after many-adventures had come into the hands of god Kane, who used it, as we see, for the interruption of the very services that were intended for his honor.

The relief from this novel and unprecedented situation came from an unexpected quarter. King Liloa’s awa-patches were found to be suffering from the nocturnal visits of a thief. A watch was set; the thief proved to be a dog, Puapua-lenalena, whose master was a confirmed awa-toper. When master and dog were brought into the presence of King Liloa, the shrewd monarch divined the remarkable character of the animal, and at his suggestion the dog was sent on the errand which resulted in the recovery by stealth of the famed conch Kiha-pú. As a result of his loss of the conch, Kane put an end to his revels, and the valley of Wai-pi’o again had peace.

This mele is an admirable specimen of Hawaiian poetry, and may be taken as representative of the best product of Hawaii’s classical period. The language is elegant and concise, free from the redundancies that so often load down Hawaiian compositions. No one, it is thought, will deny to the subject-matter of this mele an unusual degree of interest.

There is a historic side to the story of the conch-shell Kiha-pú. Not many years ago the Hawaiian Museum contained an ethnological specimen of great interest, the conch-shell Kiha-pú. It was fringed, after the fashion of a witch-doll, with strings, beads, and wampumlike bits of mother-of-pearl, and had great repute as a kupua or luckbringer. King Kalakaua, who affected a sentimental leaning to the notions of his mother’s race, took possession of this famous “curio” and it disappeared from public view.

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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.

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Mele

NOTE.—The proper names belong to localities along the course of the Wai-oli stream.

Footnote 286: (return) 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: (return) 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: (return) Manu’a-kepa. A sandy, grass-covered meadow on the opposite side of the river from Kupa-koili.

Footnote 289: (return) Maha-moku. A sandy beach near the mouth of the river, on the same bank as Manu’a-kepa.

Footnote 290: (return) Mono-lau. That part of the bay into which the river flows, that is used as an anchorage for vessels.

Footnote 291: (return) 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: (return) 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: (return) 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: (return) Wai-a-ma’o. The land-breeze, which sometimes springs up at night.

Footnote 295: (return) Wai-pá. A spot on the bank of the stream where grew a pandanus tree, hala, styled Ka-hala-mapu-ana, the hala-breathing-out-its-fragrance.

[Translation.]

Song

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.

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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