(To be recited in bombastic style, or, it may be, distinctly)
Big with child is the Princess Ku;
The whole island suffers her whimsies;
The pangs of labor are on her;
Labor that stains the land with blood,
5 Blood-clots of the heavenly born,
To preserve and guard the royal line,
The spark of king-fire now glowing:
A child is he of heavenly stock,
Like the darling of Hitu-kolo,
10 First womb-fruit born to love’s rainbow.
A bath for this child of heaven’s breast,
This mystical royal offspring,
Who ranks with the heavenly peers,
This tender bud of Liliha,
15 This atom, this parcel, this flame,
In the line Kuhi-hewa of Lola—
Ka-lola, who mothered a babe prodigious,
For glory and splendor renowned,
A scion most comely from heaven,
20 The finest down of the new-grown plume,
From bird whose moult floats to heaven,
Prime of the soaring birds of Pokahi,
The prince, heaven-flower of the island,
Ancestral sire of Ke-oua,
25 And of King Kui-apo-iwa.
[Page 82]
The heaping up of adulations, of which this mele is a capital
instance, was not peculiar to Hawaiian poetry. The Roman
Senate bestowed divinity on its emperors by vote; the
Hawaiian bard laureate, careering on his Pegasus, thought to
accomplish the same end by piling Ossa on Pelion with
high-flown phrases; and every loyal subject added his
contribution to the cairn that grew heavenward.
In Hawaii, as elsewhere, the times of royal debasement, of
aristocratic degeneracy, of doubtful or disrupted succession,
have always been the times of loudest poetic insistence on
birth-rank and the occasion for the most frenzied utterance
of high-sounding titles. This is a disease that has grown
with the decay of monarchy.
Applying this criterion to the mele above given, it may be
judged to be by no means a product wholly of the archaic
period. While certain parts, say from the first to the tenth
verses, inclusive, bear the mark of antiquity, the other
parts do not ring clear. It seems as if some poet of
comparatively modern times had revamped an old mele to suit
his own ends. Of this last part two verses were so glaringly
an interpolation that they were expunged from the text.
The effort to translate into pure Anglo-Saxon this vehement
outpour of high-colored phrases has made heavy demands on the
vocabulary and has strained the idioms of our speech
well-nigh to the point of protest.
In lines 1, 2, 4, 8, 14, and 23 the word _Lani_ means a
prince or princess, a high chief or king, a heavenly one. In
lines 12, 13, 18, and 20 the same word _lani_ means the
heavens, a concept in the Hawaiian mind that had some
far-away approximation to the Olympus of classic Greece.
_Mele_
Ooe no paha ia, e ka lau o ke aloha,
Oia no paha ia ke kau mai nei ka hali’a.
Ke hali’a-li’a mai nei ka maka,
Manao hiki mai no paha au anei.
5 Hiki mai no la ia, na wai e uwe aku?
Ua pau kau la, kau ike iaia;
Ka manawa oi’ e ai ka manao iloko.
Ua luu iho nei au i ke kai nui;
Nui ka ukiuki, paio o ka naau.
10 Aohe kanaka eha ole i ke aloha.
A wahine e oe, kanaka e au;
He mau alualu ka ha’i e lawe.
Ike aku i ke kula i’a o Ka-wai-nui.
Nui ka opala ai o Moku-lana.
15 Lana ka limu pae hewa o Makau-wahine.
O ka wahine no oe, o ke kane no ia.
Hiki mai no la ia, na wai e uwe aku?
Hoi mai no la ia, a ia wai e uwe aku?
[Page 83]
[Translation.]
_Song_
Methinks it is you, leaf plucked from Love’s tree,
You mayhap, that stirs my affection.
There’s a tremulous glance of the eye,
The thought she might chance yet to come:
5 But who then would greet her with song?
Your day has flown, your vision of her—
A time this for gnawing the heart.
I’ve plunged just now in deep waters:
Oh the strife and vexation of soul!
10 No mortal goes scathless of love.
A wife thou estranged, I a husband estranged,
Mere husks to be cast to the swine.[203]
Look, the swarming of fish at the weir!
Their feeding grounds on the reef
15 Are waving with mosses abundant.
Thou art the woman, that one your man—
At her coming who’ll greet her with song?
Her returning, who shall console?
[Footnote 203: In the original, _He mau alualu ka ha’i e
lawe_, literally “Some skins for another to take.”]
This song almost explains itself. It is the soliloquy of a
lover estranged from his mistress. Imagination is alive in
eye and ear to everything that may bring tidings of her, even
of her unhoped-for return. Sometimes he speaks as if
addressing the woman who has gone from him, or he addresses
himself, or he personifies some one who speaks to him, as in
the sixth line: “Your day has flown, ...”
The memory of past vexation and anguish extorts the
philosophic remark, “No mortal goes scathless of love.” He
gives over the past, seeks consolation in a new
attachment—he dives, _lu’u_, into the great ocean, “deep
waters,” of love, at least in search of love. The old self
(selves), the old love, he declares to be only _alualu_,
empty husks.
He—it is evidently a man—sets forth the wealth of comfort,
opulence, that surrounds him in his new-found peace. The
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: _Maka-léi_. (See note _b_, p. 17.)]
[Page 84]
_Mele_
O Ewa, aina kai ula i ka lepo,
I ula i ka makani anu Moa’e,
Ka manu ula i ka lau ka ai,
I palahe’a ula i ke kai o Kuhi-á.
5 Mai kuhi mai oukou e, owau ke kalohe;
Aohe na’u, na lakou no a pau.
Aohe hewa kekahi keiki a ke kohe.
Ei’ a’e; oia no paha ia.
I lono oukou ia wai, e, ua moe?
10 Oia kini poai o lakou la paha?
Ike aku ia ka mau’u hina-hina—
He hina ko’u, he aka mai ko ia la.
I aka mai oe i kou la manawa le’a;
A manawa ino, nui mai ka nuku,
15 Hoomokapu, hoopale mai ka maka,
Hoolahui wale mai i a’u nei.
E, oia paha; ae, oia no paha ia.
[Translation.]
_Song_
Ewa’s lagoon is red with dirt—
Dust blown by the cool Moa’e,
A plumage red on the taro leaf,
An ocherous tint in the bay.
5 Say not in your heart that I am the culprit.
Not I, but they, are at fault.
No child of the womb is to blame.
There goes, likely he is the one.
Who was it blabbed of the bed defiled?
10 It must have been one of that band.
But look at the rank grass beat down—
For my part, I tripped, the other one smiled.
You smiled in your hour of pleasure;
But now, when crossed, how you scold!
15 Avoiding the house, averting the eyes—
You make of me a mere stranger.
Yes it’s probably so, he’s the one.
A poem this full of local color. The plot of the story, as it
may be interpreted, runs somewhat as follows: While the man
of the house, presumably, is away, it would seem—fishing,
perhaps, in the waters of Ewa’s “shamrock lagoon”—the
mistress sports with a lover. The culprit impudently defends
himself with chaff and dust-throwing. The hoodlums, one of
whom is himself the sinner, have been blabbing, says he.
[Page 85]
His accuser points to the beaten down _hina-hina_ grass as
evidence against him. At this the brazen-faced culprit
parries the stroke with a humorous euphemistic description,
in which he plays on the word _hina_, to fall. Such verbal
tilting in ancient Hawaii was practically a defense against a
charge of moral obliquity as decisive and legitimate as was
an appeal to arms in the times of chivalry. He
euphemistically speaks of the beaten herbage as the result of
his having tripped and fallen, at which, says he, the woman
smiled, that is she fell in with his proposals. He gives
himself away; but that doesn’t matter.
It requires some study to make out who is the speaker in the
tit-for-tat of the dialogue.
_Mele_
(Ai-ha’a)
He lua i ka Hikina,
Ua ena e Pele;
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
5 Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owan no, o Pele,
Nona i eli aku ka lua i Niihau a a.
10 He lua i Niihau, ua ena e Pele.
He haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
15 Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Kauai a a.
He lua i Kauai ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
20 Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
25 Nana i eli ka lua i Oahu a a.
He lua i Oahu, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
30 A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli ka lua i Molokai a a.
[Page 86] He lua i Molokai, ua ena e Pele.
35 Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
40 Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Lanai a a.
He lua i Lanai, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
45 Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Maui a a.
50 He lua i Maui, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
55 Owai, nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Hu’ehu’e a a.
He lua i Hu’ehu’e, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
60 Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Eli-eli, kau mai!
[Translation.]
_Song_
(In turgid style)
A pit lies (far) to the East,
Pit het by the Fire-queen Pele.
Heaven’s dawn is lifted askew,
One edge tilts up, one down, in the sky;
5 The thud of the pick is heard in the ground.
The question is asked by Wakea,
What god’s this a-digging?
It is I, it is Pele,
Who dug Mihau deep down till it burned,
10 Dug fire-pit red-heated by Pele.
Night’s curtains are drawn to one side,
One lifts, one hangs in the tide.
Crunch of spade resounds in the earth.
Wakea ’gain urges the query,
15 What god plies the spade in the ground?
Quoth Pele, ’tis I:
[Page 87] I mined to the fire neath Kauai,
On Kauai I dug deep a pit,
A fire-well flame-fed by Pele.
20 The heavens are lifted aslant,
One border moves up and one down;
There’s a stroke of o-ó ’neath the ground.
Wakea, in earnest, would know,
What demon’s a-grubbing below?
25 I am the worker, says Pele:
Oahu I pierced to the quick,
A crater white-heated by Pele.
Now morn lights one edge of the sky;
The light streams up, the shadows fall down;
30 There’s a clatter of tools deep down.
Wakea, in passion, demands,
What god this who digs ’neath the ground?
It is dame Pele who answers;
Hers the toil to dig down to fire,
35 To dig Molokai and reach fire.
Now morning peeps from the sky
With one eye open, one shut.
Hark, ring of the drill ’neath the plain!
Wakea asks you to explain,
40 What imp is a-drilling below?
It is I, mutters Pele:
I drilled till flame shot forth on Lanai,
A pit candescent by Pele.
The morning looks forth aslant;
45 Heaven’s curtains roll up and roll down;
There’s a ring of o-ó ’neath the sod.
Who, asks Wakea, the god,
Who is this devil a-digging?
’Tis I, ’tis Pele, I who
50 Dug on Maui the pit to the fire:
Ah, the crater of Maui,
Red-glowing with Pele’s own fire!
Heaven’s painted one side by the dawn,
Her curtains half open, half drawn;
55 A rumbling is heard far below.
Wakea insists he will know
The name of the god that tremors the land.
’Tis I, grumbles Pele,
I have scooped out the pit Hu’e-hu’e,
60 A pit that reaches to fire,
A fire fresh kindled by Pele.
Now day climbs up to the East;
Morn folds the curtains of night;
The spade of sapper resounds ’neath the plain:
65 The goddess is at it again!
[Page 88]
This mele comes to us stamped with the hall-mark of
antiquity. It is a poem of mythology, but with what story it
connects itself, the author knows not.
The translation here given makes no profession of absolute,
verbal literalness. One can not transfer a metaphor bodily,
head and horns, from one speech to another. The European had
to invent a new name for the boomerang or accept the name by
which the Australian called it. The Frenchman, struggling
with the English language, told a lady he was _gangrened_, he
meant he was _mortified_. The cry for literalism is the cry
for an impossibility; to put the chicken back into its shell,
to return to the bows and arrows of the stone age.
To make the application to the mele in question: the word
_ha-olo-olo_, for example, which is translated in several
different ways in the poem, is of such generic and
comprehensive meaning that one word fails to express its
meaning. It is, by the way, not a word to be found in any
dictionary. The author had to grope his way to its meaning by
following the trail of some Hawaiian pathfinder who, after
beating about the bush, finally had to acknowledge that the
path had become so much overgrown since he last went that way
that he could not find it.
The Arabs have a hundred or more words meaning
sword—different kinds of swords. To them our word sword is
very unspecific. Talk to an Arab of a sword—you may exhaust
the list of special forms that our poor vocabulary compasses,
straight sword, broadsword, saber, scimitar, yataghan,
rapier, and what not, and yet not hit the mark of his
definition.
_Mele_
Haku’i ka uahi o ka lua, pa i ka lani;
Ha’aha’a Hawaii, moku o Keawe i hanau ia.
Kiekie ke one o Maláma ia Lohiau,
I a’e ’a mai e ke alii o Kahiki,
5 Nana i hele kai uli, kai ele,
Kai popolo-hu’a a Kane,
Ka wa i po’i ai ke Kai-a-ka-hina-lii,
Kai nu’u, kai lewa.
Hoopua o Kane i ka la’i;
10 Pa uli-hiwa mai la ka uka o ke ahi a Laka,
Oia wahine kihene lehua o Hopoe,
Pu’e aku-o na hala,
Ka hala o Panaewa,
O Panaewa nui, moku lehua;
15 Ohia kupu ha-o’e-o’e;
Lehua ula, i wili ia e ke ahi.
A po, e!
Po Puna, po Hilo!
Po i ka uahi o ku’u aina.
20 Ola ia kini!
Ke a mai la ke ahi!
[Page 89]
[Translation.]
_Song_
A burst of smoke from the pit lifts to the skies;
Hawaii’s beneath, birth-land of Keawe;
Malama’s beach looms before Lohian,
Where landed the chief from Kahiki,
5 From a voyage on the blue sea, the dark sea,
The foam-mottled sea of Kane,
What time curled waves of the king-whelming flood.
The sea up-swells, invading the land—
Lo Kane, outstretched at his ease!
10 Smoke and flame o’ershadow the uplands,
Conflagration by Laka, the woman
Hopoe wreathed with flowers of lehua,
Stringing the pandanus fruit.
Screw-palms that clash in Pan’-ewa—
15 Pan’-ewa, whose groves of lehua
Are nourished by lava shag,
Lehua that bourgeons with flame.
Night, it is night
O’er Puna and Hilo!
20 Night from the smoke of my land!
For the people salvation!
But the land is on fire!
The Hawaiian who furnished the meles which, in their
translated forms, are designated as canto I, canto II, and so
on, spoke of them as _pále_, and, following his
nomenclature, the term has been retained, though more
intimate acquaintance with the meles and with the term has
shown that the nearest English synonym to correspond with
pale would be the word division. Still, perhaps with a
mistaken tenderness for the word, the author has retained the
caption Canto, as a sort of nodding recognition of the old
Hawaiian’s term—division of a poem. No idea is entertained
that the five _pále_ above given were composed by the same
bard, or that they represent productions from the same
individual standpoint. They do, however, breathe a spirit
much in common; so that when the old Hawaiian insisted that
they are so far related to one another as to form a natural
series for recitation in the hula, being species of the same
genus, as it were, he was not far from the truth. The man’s
idea seemed to be that they were so closely related that,
like beads of harmonious colors and shapes, they might be
strung on the same thread without producing a dissonance.
Of these five poems, or _pále_ (páh-lay), numbers I, II, and
IV were uttered in a natural tone of voice, termed _kawele_,
otherwise termed _ko’i-honua_. The purpose of this style of
recitation was to adapt the tone to the necessities of the
[Page 90] aged when their ears no longer heard distinctly. It would
require an audiphone to illustrate perfectly the difference
between this method of pronunciation and the _ai-ha’a_, which
was employed in the recitation of cantos III and V. The
_ai-ha’a_ was given in a strained and guttural tone.
The poetical reciter and cantillator, whether in the halau or
in the king’s court, was wont to heighten the oratorical
effect of his recitation by certain crude devices, the most
marked of which was that of choking the voice down, as it
were, into the throat, and there letting it strain and growl
like a hungry lion. This was the ai-ha’a, whose organic
function was the expression of the underground passions of
the soul.
[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 33 PLATE VIII
MAILE PAKAHA
NIHI-AU-MOE
MARIONETTES]
[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.
[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY, BULLETIN 38 PLATE IX
MARIONETTE, MAKA-KÚ]
[Page 93]
Puapuakea, a man of genuine courage, hearing of the boastful
achievements of Maka-kú, seeks him out and challenges him.
At the first contest they fought with javelins, _ihe_, each
one taking his turn according to lot in casting his javelins
to the full tale of the prescribed number; after which the
other contestant did the same. Neither was victorious.
Next they fought with slings, each one having the right to
sling forty stones at the other. In this conflict also
neither one of them got the better of the other. The next
trial was with stone-throwing. The result was still the same.
Now it was for them to try the classical Hawaiian game of
_lua_. This was a strenuous form of contest that has many
features in common with the panathlion of the ancient
Hellenes, some points in common with boxing, and still more,
perhaps, partakes of the character of the grand art of
combat, wrestling. Since becoming acquainted with the fine
Japanese art of _jiu-jitsu_, the author recognizes certain
methods that were shared by them both. But to all of these it
added the wild privileges of choking, bone-breaking,
dislocating, eye-gouging, and the infliction of tortures and
grips unmentionable and disreputable. At first the conflict
was in suspense, victory favoring neither party; but as the
contest went on Puapuakea showed a slight superiority, and at
the finish he had bettered Maka-kú by three points, or
_ai_[205], as the Hawaiians uniquely term it.
[Footnote 205: _Ai_, literally a food, a course.]
The sisters, Maile-lau-lii and Maile-pakaha, who had been
interested spectators of the contest, conceived a passionate
liking for the two warriors and laid their plans in concert
to capture them for themselves. Fortunately their preferences
were not in conflict. Maile-lau-lii set her affections on
Maka-ku, while the younger sister devoted herself to
Pua-pua-kea.
The two men had previously allowed their fancies to range
abroad at pleasure; but from this time they centered their
hearts on these two Mailes and settled down to regular
married life.
Interest in the actual performance of the hula ki’i was
stimulated by a resort to byplay and buffoonery. One of the
marionettes, for instance, points to some one in the
audience; whereupon one of the _hoopaa_ asks, “What do you
want?” The marionette persists in its pointing. At length the
interlocutor, as if divining the marionette’s wish, says:
“Ah, you want So-and-so.” At this the marionette nods assent,
and the hoopaa asks again, “Do you wish him to come to you?”
The marionette expresses its delight and approval by nods and
gestures, to the immense satisfaction of the audience, who
join in derisive laughter at the expense of the person held
up to ridicule.
Besides the marionettes already named among the characters
found in the different hula-plays of the hula ki’i, the
[Page 94] author has heard mention of the following marionettes: _Ku,
Kini-ki’i, Hoo-lehelehe-ki’i, Ki’i-ki’i_, and _Nihi-aumoe_.
Nihi-aumoe was a man without the incumbrance of a wife, an
expert in the arts of intrigue and seduction. Nihi-aumoe is a
word of very suggestive meaning, to walk softly at midnight.
In Judge Andrews’s dictionary are found the following
pertinent Hawaiian verses apropos of the word _nihi_:
E hoopono ka hele i ka uka o Puna;
E _nihi_ ka hele, mai hoolawehala,
Mai noho a ako i ka pua, o hewa,
O inaina ke Akua, paa ke alanui,
Aole ou ala e hiki aku ai.
[Translation.]
Look to your ways in upland Puna;
Walk softly, commit no offense;
Dally not, nor pluck the flower sin;
Lest God in anger bar the road,
And you find no way of escape.
The marionette Ki’i-ki’i was a strenuous little fellow, an
_ilamuku_, a marshal, or constable of the king. It was his
duty to carry out with unrelenting rigor the commands of the
alii, whether they bade him take possession of a taro patch,
set fire to a house, or to steal upon a man at dead of night
and dash out his brains while he slept.
Referring to the illustrations (pl. VIII), a judge of human
nature can almost read the character of the libertine
Nihi-aumoe written in his features—the flattened vertex,
indicative of lacking reverence and fear, the ruffian
strength of the broad face; and if one could observe the
reverse of the picture he would note the flattened back-head,
a feature that marks a large number of Hawaiian crania.
The songs that were cantillated to the hula ki’i express in
some degree the peculiar libertinism of this hula, which
differed from all others by many removes. They may be
characterized as gossipy, sarcastic, ironical,
scandal-mongering, dealing in satire, abuse, hitting right
and left at social and personal vices—a cheese of rank
flavor that is not to be partaken of too freely. It might be
compared to the vaudeville in opera or to the genre picture
in art.
_Mele_
E Wewehi, ke, ke!
Wewehi oiwi, ke, ke!
Punana[206] i ka luna, ke, ke!
Hoonoho kai-oa[207] ke, ke!
[Page 95] 5 Oluna ka wa’a[208], ke, ke!
O kela wa’a, ke, ke!
O keia wa’a, ke, ke!
Ninau o Mawi[209], ke, ke!
Nawai ka luau’i?[209] ke, ke!
10 Na Wewehi-loa[210], ke, ke! 10
Ua make Wewehi, ke, ke!
Ua ku i ka ihe, ke, ke!
Ma ka puka kahiko[211] ke, ke!
Ka puka a Mawi, ke, ke!
15 Ka lepe, ka lepe, la! 15
Ka lepe, ua hina a uwe!
Ninau ka lepe, la!
Mana-mana lii-lii,
Mana-mana heheiao,
20 Ke kumu o ka lepe? 20
Ka lepe hiolo, e?
[Footnote 206: _Punana_. Literally a nest; here a raised couch
on the _pola_, which was a sheltered platform in the waist of
a double canoe, corresponding to our cabin, for the use of
chiefs and other people of distinction.]
[Footnote 207: _Kai-oa_. The paddle-men; here a euphemism.]
[Footnote 208: _Wa’a_. A euphemism for the human body.]
[Footnote 209: _Mawi_. The hero of Polynesian mythology, whose
name is usually spelled _Maui_, like the name of the island.
Departure from the usual orthography is made in order to
secure phonetic accuracy. The name of the hero is pronounced
_Máh-wee_, not _Mów-ee_, as is the island. Sir George Gray,
of New Zealand, following the usual orthography, has given a
very full and interesting account of him in his Polynesian
mythology.]
[Footnote 210: _Wewehi-loa_. Another name for _Wahie-loa_, who
is said to have been the grandfather of Wewehi. The word
_luau’i_ in the previous verse, meaning real father, is an
archaic form. Another form is _kua-u’i_.]
[Footnote 211: _Puka kahiko_. A strange story from Hawaiian
mythology relates that originally the human anatomy was sadly
deficient in that the terminal gate of the _primæ viæ_ was
closed. Mawi applied his common-sense surgery to the repair
of the defect and relieved the situation. _Ua olelo ia i
kinohi ua hana ia kanaka me ka hemahema no ka nele i ka hou
puka ole ia ka okole, a na Mawi i hoopau i keia pilikia
mamuli o kana hana akamai. Ua kapa ia keia puka ka puka
kahiko._]
[Translation.]
_Song_
O Wewehi, la, la!
Wewehi, peerless form, la, la!
Encouched on the pola, la, la!
Bossing the paddlers, la, la!
5 Men of the canoe, la, la! 5
Of that canoe, la, la!
Of this canoe, la, la!
Mawi inquires, la, la!
Who was her grand-sire? la, la!
10 ’Twas Wewehi-loa, la, la! 10
Wewehi is dead, la, la!
Wounded with spear, la, la!
The same old wound, la, la!
Wound made by Mawi, la, la!
[Page 96]
15 The flag, lo the flag! 15
The flag weeps at half-mast!
The flag, indeed, asks—
Many, many the flags,
A scandal for number.
20 Why are they overturned? 20
Why their banners cast down?
The author has met with several variants to this mele, which
do not greatly change its character. In one of these variants
the following changes are to be noted:
Line 4. Pikaka[212] e ka luna, ke, ke!
Line 5. Ka luna o ka hale, ke, ke!
Line 8. Ka puka o ka hale, a ke, ke!
Line 9. E noho i anei, a ke, ke!
To attempt a translation of these lines which are
unadulterated slang:
Line 4. The roof is a-dry, la, la!
Line 5. The roof of the house, la, la!
Line 8. The door of the house, la, la!
Line 9. Turn in this way, la, la!
[Footnote 212: _Pikaka_ (full form _pikakao_). Dried up,
juiceless.]
The one who supplied the above lines expressed inability to
understand their meaning, averring that they are “classical
Hawaiian,” meaning, doubtless, that they are archaic slang.
As to the ninth line, the practice of “sitting in the door”
seems to have been the fashion with such folk as far back as
the time of Solomon.
Let us picture this princess of Maui, this granddaughter of
Wahieloa, Wewehi, as a Helen, with all of Helen’s frailty, a
flirt-errant, luxurious in life, quickly deserting one lover
for the arms of another; yet withal of such humanity and
kindness of fascination that, at her death, or absence, all
things mourned her—not as Lycidas was mourned:
“With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
.............................................
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears,”
but in some rude pagan fashion; all of which is wrought out
and symbolized in the mele with such imagery as is native to
the mind of the savage.
The attentive reader will not need be told that, as in many
another piece out of Hawaii’s old-time legends, the path
through this song is beset with euphuistic stumbling blocks.
The purpose of language, says Talleyrand, is to conceal
thought. The veil in this case is quite gauzy.
The language of the following song for the marionette dance,
hula ki’i, as in the one previously given, is mostly of that
[Page 97] kind which the Hawaiians term _olelo kapékepéke_, or _olelo
huná_, shifty talk, or secret talk. We might call it slang,
though, it is not slang in the exact sense in which we use
that word, applying it to the improvised counters of thought
that gain currency in our daily speech until they find
admission to the forum, the platform, and the dictionary. It
is rather a cipher-speech, a method of concealing one’s
meaning from all but the initiated, of which the Hawaiian,
whether alii or commoner, was very fond. The people of the
hula were famous for this sort of accomplishment and prided
themselves not a little in it as an effectual means of giving
appropriate flavor and gusto to their performances.
_Mele_
Ele-ele kau-kau;[213]
Ka hala-le,[214] e kau-kau,
Ka e-ele ihi,
Ele ihi, ele a,
5 Ka e-ele ku-pou;[215]
Ku-pou.
Ka hala, e![216]
[Translation.]
_Song_
Point to a dark one,
Point to a dainty piece,
A delicate morsel she!
Very choice, very hot!
5 She that stoops over—
Aye stoops!
Lo, the hala fruit!
The translation has to be based largely on conjecture. The
author of this bit of fun-making, which is couched in
old-time slang, died without making known the key to his
cipher, and no one whom the present writer has met with is
able to unravel its full meaning.
[Footnote 213: _Kau-kau_. Conjectural meaning to point out some
one in the audience, as the marionettes often did. People
were thus sometimes inveigled in behind the curtain.]
[Footnote 214: _Hala-le_. Said to mean a sop, with which one
took up the juice or gravy of food; a choice morsel.]
[Footnote 215: _Ku-pou_. To stoop over, from devotion to one’s
own pursuits, from modesty, or from shame.]
[Footnote 216: The meaning of this line has been matter for
much conjecture. The author has finally adopted the
suggestion embodied in the translation here given, which is a
somewhat gross reference to the woman’s physical charms.]
The following mele for the hula ki’i, in language colored by
the same motive, was furnished by an accomplished
practitioner who had traveled far and wide in the practice of
her art, having been one of a company of hula dancers that
attended the Columbian exposition in Chicago. It was her good
[Page 98] fortune also to reach the antipodes in her travels, and it
was at Berlin, she says, that she witnessed for the first
time the European counterpart of the hula ki’i, the “Punch
and Judy” show:
_Mele no ka Hula Ki’i_
E le’e kau-kau, kala le’e;
E le’e kau-kau.
E le’e kau-kau, kala le’e.
E lepe kau-kau.
5 E o-ku ana i kai;
E u-au ai aku;
E u-au ai aku;
E u-au ai aku!
E-he-he, e!
[Translation.]
_Song for the Hula Ki’i_
Now for the dance, dance in accord;
Prepare for the dance.
Now for the dance, dance in time.
Up, now, with the flag!
5 Step out to the right
Step out to the left!
Ha, ha, ha!
This translation is the result of much research, yet its
absolute accuracy can not be vouched for. The most learned
authorities (_kaka-olelo_) in old Hawaiian lore that have
been found by the writer express themselves as greatly
puzzled at the exact meaning of the mele just given. Some
scholars, no doubt, would dub these nonsense-lines. The
author can not consent to any such view. The old Hawaiians
were too much in earnest to permit themselves to juggle with
words in such fashion. They were fond of mystery and
concealment, appreciated a joke, given to slang, but to
string a lot of words together without meaning, after the
fashion of a college student who delights to relieve his mind
by shouting “Upidee, upida,” was not their way. “The people
of the hula,” said one man, “had ways of fun-making peculiar
to themselves.”
When the hula-dancer who communicated to the author the above
song—a very accomplished and intelligent woman—was asked
for information that would render possible its proper
translation, she replied that her part was only that of a
mouthpiece to repeat the words and to make appropriate
gestures, _he pono hula wale no_, mere parrot-work. The
language, she said, was such “classic” Hawaiian as to be
beyond her understanding.
[Page 99]
Here, again, is another song in argot, a coin of the same
mintage as those just given:
_Mele_
E kau-kau i hale manu, e!
Ike oe i ka lola huluhulu, e?
I ka huluhulu a we’uwe’u, e?
I ka punohu,[217] e, a ka la e kau nei?
5 Walea ka manu i ka wai, e!
I ka wai lohi o ke kini, e!
[Translation.]
_Song_
Let’s worship now the bird-cage.
Seest thou the furzy woodland,
The shag of herb and forest,
The low earth-tinting rainbow,
5 Child of the Sun that swings above?
O, happy bird, to drink from the pool,
A bliss free to the million!
[Footnote 217: _Punohu_. A compact mass of clouds, generally
lying low in the heavens; a cloud-omen; also a rainbow that
lies close to the earth, such as is formed when the sun is
high in the heavens.]
This is the language of symbolism. When Venus went about to
ensnare Adonis, among her other wiles she warbled to him of
mountains, dales, and pleasant fountains.
The mele now presented is of an entirely different character
from those that have just preceded. It is said to have been
the joint composition of the high chief Keiki-o-ewa of Kauai,
at one time the kahu of Prince Moses, and of Kapihe, a
distinguished poet—haku-mele—and prophet. (To Kapihe is
ascribed the prophetic and oracular utterance, _E iho ana o
luna, e pii ana o lalo; e ku ana ka paia; e moe ana kaula; e
kau ana kau-huhu—o lani iluna, o honua ilalo_—“The high
shall be brought low, the lowly uplifted; the defenses shall
stand; the prophet shall lie low; the mountain walls shall
abide—heaven above, earth beneath.”)
This next poem may be regarded as an epithalamium, the
celebration of the mystery and bliss of the wedding night,
the _hoáo ana_ of a high chief and his high-born _kapu_
sister. The murmur of the breeze, the fury of the winds, the
heat of the sun, the sacrificial ovens, all are symbols that
set forth the emotions, experiences, and mysteries of the
night:
[Page 100]
_Mele_
(Ko’ihonua)
O Wanahili[218] ka po loa ia Manu’a,[219]
O ka pu kau kama[220] i Hawaii akea;
O ka pu leina[221] kea a Kiha—
O Kiha nui a Pii-lani—[222]
5 O Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama;[223]
O ka maka iolena[224] ke koohaulani i-ó!
O kela kanaka hoali mauna,[225]
O Ka Lani ku’i hono i ka moku.[226]
I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá,[227]
10 Ai’ i Kauai, i Oahu, i Maui,
I Hawaii kahiko o Keawe enaena,[228]
Ke a-á, mai la me ke o-koko,
Ke lapa-lapa la i ka makani,
Makani kua, he Naulu.[229]
10 Kua ka Wainoa i ka Mikioi,
[Page 101] Pu-á ia lalo o Hala-li’i, [230]
Me he alii, alii, la no ka hele i Kekaha,
Ka hookiekie i ka li’u-la,[231]
Ka hele i ke alia-lia la, alia!
20 Alia-lia la’a-laau Kekaha.
Ke kaha o Kala-ihi, Wai-o-lono.
Ke olo la ke pihe a ka La, e!
Ke nu la paha i Honua-ula.
[Footnote 218: _Wanahili_. A princess of the mythological
period belonging to Puna, Hawaii.]
[Footnote 219: _Manu’a_. A king of Hilo, the son of Kane-hili,
famous for his skill in spear-throwing, _maika_-rolling, and
all athletic exercises. He was united in marriage, _ho-ao_,
to the lovely princess Wanahili. Tradition deals with Manua
as a very lovable character.]
[Footnote 220: _Pu kau kama_. The conch (pu) is figured as the
herald of fame. _Kau_ is used in the sense of to set on high,
in contrast with such a word as _waiho_, to set down. _Kama_
is the word of dignity for children.]
[Footnote 221: _Pu leina_. It is asserted on good authority
that the triton (_pu_), when approached in its ocean habitat,
will often make sudden and extraordinary leaps in an effort
to escape. There is special reference here to the famous
conch known in Hawaiian story as _Kiha-pu_. It was credited
with supernatural powers as a _kupua_. During the reign of
Umi, son of Liloa, it was stolen from the _heiau_ in Waipio
valley and came into the hands of god Kane. In his wild
awa-drinking revels the god terrified Umi and his people by
sounding nightly blasts with the conch. The shell was finally
restored to King Umi by the superhuman aid of the famous dog
Puapua-lena-lena.]
[Footnote 222: _Kiha-nui a Piilani_. Son of Piilani, a king of
Maui. He is credited with the formidable engineering work of
making a paved road over the mountain palis of Koolau, Maui.]
[Footnote 223: _Kauhi kalana-honu’-a-Kama_. This Kauhi, as his
long title indicates, was the son of the famous king,
Kama-lala-walu, and succeeded his father in the kingship over
Maui and, probably, Lanai. Kama-lala-walu had a long and
prosperous reign, which ended, however, in disaster. Acting
on the erroneous reports of his son Kauhi, whom he had sent
to spy out the land, he invaded the kingdom of
Lono-i-ka-makahiki on Hawaii, was wounded and defeated in
battle, taken prisoner, and offered up as a sacrifice on the
altar of Lono’s god, preferring that death, it is said, to
the ignominy of release.]
[Footnote 224: _I-olena_. Roving, shifty, lustful.]
[Footnote 225: _Kanaka hoali mauna_. Man who moved mountains;
an epithet of compliment applied perhaps to Kiha, above
mentioned, or to the king mentioned in the next verse,
Kekaulike.]
[Footnote 226: _Ku’i hono i ka moku_. Who bound together into
one (state) the islands Maui, Molokai, Lanai, and Kahoolawe.
This was, it is said, Kekaulike, the fifth king of Maui after
Kama-lala-walu. At his death he was succeeded by
Kamehameha-nui—to be distinguished from the Kamehameha of
Hawaii—and he in turn by the famous warrior-king Kahekili,
who routed the invading army of Kalaniopuu, king of Hawaii,
on the sand plains of Wailuku.]
[Footnote 227: _I waihona kapuahi kanaka ehá_. This verse
presents grammatical difficulties. The word _I_ implies the
imperative, a form of request or demand, though that is
probably not the intent. It seems to be a means, authorized
by poetical license, of ascribing honor and tabu-glory to
the name of the person eulogized, who, the context leads the
author to think, was Kekaulike. The island names other than
that of Maui seem to have been thrown in for poetical effect,
as that king, in the opinion of the author, had no power over
Kauai, Oahu, or Hawaii. The purpose may have been to assert
that his glory reached to those islands.]
[Footnote 228: _Keawe enaena_. Keawe, whose tabu was hot as a
burning oven. Presumably Keawe, the son of Umi, is the one
meant.]
[Footnote 229: _Naulu_. The sea-breeze at Waimea, Kauai.]
[Footnote 230: _Hala-lii_. A sandy plain on Niihau, where grows
a variety of sugar-cane that lies largely covered by the
loose soil, _ke ko eli o Hala-lii_.]
[Footnote 231: _Li’u-la_. The mirage, a common phenomenon on
Niihau, and especially at Mana, on Kauai.]
[Translation.]
_Song_
(Distinct utterance)
Wanahili bides the whole night with Manu’a,
By trumpet hailed through broad Hawaii,
By the white vaulting conch of Kiha—
Great Kiha, offspring of Pii-lani,
5 Father of eight-branched Kama-lala-walu
The far-roaming eye now sparkles with joy,
Whose energy erstwhile shook mountains,
The king who firm-bound the isles in one state,
His glory, symboled by four human altars,
10 Reaches Kauai, Oahu, Maui,
Hawaii the eld of Keawe,
Whose tabu, burning with blood-red blaze,
Shoots flame-tongues that leap with the wind,
The breeze from the mountain, the Naulu.
15 Waihoa humps its back, while cold Mikioi
Blows fierce and swift across Hala-li’i.
It vaunts like a king at Kekaha,
Flaunting itself in the sun’s heat,
And lifts itself up in mirage,
20 Ghost-forms of woods and trees in Kekaha—
Sweeping o’er waste Kala-ihi, Water-of-Lono;
While the sun shoots forth its fierce rays—
Its heat, perchance, reaches to Honua-ula.
The mele next given takes its local color from Kauai and
brings vividly to mind the experiences of one who has climbed
the mountain walls _pali_, that buffet the winds of its
northern coast.
_Mele_
Kalalau, pali eku i ka makani;
Pu ka Lawa-kua,[232] hoi mau i Kolo-kini;
Nu a anahulu ka pa ana i-uka—
Anahulu me na po keu elua.
[Page 102] 5 Elua Hono-pu o ia kua kanaka;
Elua Ko’a-mano[233] me Wai-aloha,
Ka pali waha iho, waha iho[234] me ke kua;
Ke keiki puu iloko o ka pali nui.
E hii an’[235] e Makua i Kalalau.
[Footnote 232: _Lawa-kua._ A wind in Kalalau that blows for a
time from the mountains and then, it is said, veers to the
north, so that it comes from the direction of a secondary
valley, Kolo-kini, a branch of Kalalau. The bard describes it
as continuing to blow for twelve nights before It shifts, an
instance, probably, of poetic license.]
[Footnote 233: _Ko’a-mano_. A part of the ocean into which the
stream Wai-aloha falls.]
[Footnote 234: _Waha iho_. With mouth that yawns downward,
referring, doubtless, to the overarching of the _pali_,
precipice. The same figure is applied to the back (_kua_) of
the traveler who climbs it.]
[Footnote 235: Elision of the final _a_ in _ana_.]
[Translation.]
_Song_
The mountain walls of Kalalau
Buffet the blasts of Lawa-kau,
That surge a decade of nights and twain;
Then, wearied, it veers to the north.
5 Two giant backs stand the cliffs Hono-pu;
The falls Wai-aloha mate with the sea:
An overhung pali—the climber’s back swings in
Its mouth—to face it makes one a child—
Makua, whose arms embrace Kalalau.
The mind of the ancient bard was so narrowly centered on the
small plot his imagination cultivated that he disregarded the
outside world, forgetting that it could not gaze upon the
scenes which filled his eyes.
The valley of Kalalau from its deep recess in the
northwestern coast of Kauai looks out upon the heaving waters
of the Pacific. The mountain walls of the valley are abrupt,
often overhanging. Viewed from the ocean, the cliffs are
piled one upon another like the buttresses of a Gothic
cathedral. The ocean is often stormy, and during several
months in the year forbids intercourse with other parts of
the island, save as the hardy traveler makes his way along
precipitous mountain trails.
The hula _ala’a-papa_, hula _ipu_, hula _pa-ipu_ (or
_kuolo_), the hula _hoo-naná_, and the hula _ki’i_ were all
performed to the accompaniment of the ipu or calabash, and,
being the only ones that were so accompanied, if the author
is correctly informed, they may be classed together under one
head as the calabash hulas.
[Illustration:
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 38 PLATE X
PAHU HULA, HULA DRUM]
[Page 103]
XII.—THE HULA PAHU
The hula _pahu_ was so named from the _pahu_,[236] or drum,
that was its chief instrument of musical accompaniment (pl.
x).
[Footnote 236: Full form, _pahu-hula_.]
It is not often that the story of an institution can be so
closely fitted to the landmarks of history as in the case of
this hula; and this comes about through our knowledge of the
history of the pahu itself. Tradition, direct and reliable,
informs us that the credit of introducing the big drum
belongs to La’a. This chief flourished between five and six
centuries ago, and from having spent most of his life in the
lands to the south, which the ancient Hawaiians called
Kahiki, was himself generally styled La’a-mai-Kahiki
(La’a-from-Kahiki). The young man was of a volatile
disposition, given to pleasure, and it is evident that the
big drum he brought with him to Hawaii on one of his voyages
from Kahiki was in his eyes by no means the least important
piece of baggage that freighted his canoes. On nearing the
land he waked the echoes with the stirring tones of his drum,
which so astonished the people that they followed him from
point to point along the coast and heaped favors upon him
whenever he came ashore.
La’a was an enthusiastic patron of the hula and is said to
have made a tour of the islands, in which he instructed the
natives in new forms of this seductive pastime, one of which
was the hula _ka-eke_.
There is reason to believe, it seems, that the original use
of the pahu was in connection with the services of the
temple, and that its adaptation to the halau was simply a
transference from one to another religious use.
The hula pahu was preeminently a performance of formal and
dignified character, not such as would be extemporized for
the amusement of an irreverent company. Like all the formal
hulas, it was tabu, by which the Hawaiians meant that it was
a religious service, or so closely associated with the notion
of worship as to make it an irreverence to trifle with it.
For this reason as well as for its intrinsic dignity its
performance was reserved for the most distinguished guests
and the most notable occasions.
Both classes of actors took part in the performance of the
hula pahu, the olapa contributing the mele as they stood and
went through the motions of the dance, while the hoopaa
maintained the kneeling position and operated the big drum
with the left hand. While his left hand was thus engaged, the
[Page 104] musician with a thong held in his right hand struck a tiny
drum, the _pu-niu_, that was conveniently strapped to the
thigh of the same side. As its name signifies, the pu-niu was
made from coconut shell, being headed with fish-skin.
The harmonious and rhythmic timing of these two instruments
called for strict attention on the part of the performer. The
pahu, having a tone of lower pitch and greater volume than
the other, was naturally sounded at longer intervals, while
the pu-niu delivered its sharp crisp tones in closer order.
_Mele_
(Ko’i-honua)
O Hilo oe, Hilo, muliwai a ka ua i ka lani,
I hana ia Hilo, ko-í ana e ka ua.
E haló ko Hilo ma i-o, i-anei;
Lenalena Hilo e, panopano i ka ua.
5 Ua lono Pili-keko o Hilo i ka wai;
O-kakala ka hulu o Hilo i ke anu;
Ua ku o ka paka a ka ua i ke one;
Ua moe oni ole Hilo i-luna ke alo;
Ua hana ka uluna lehu o Hana-kahi.
10 Haule ka onohi Hilo o ka ua i ke one;
Loku kapa ka hi-hilo kai o Pai-kaka.
Ha, e!
2
A Puna au, i Kuki’i au, i Ha’eha’e,
Ike au i ke a kino-lau lehua.
He laau malalo o ia pohaku.
Hanohano Puna e, kehakeha i ka ua,
5 Káhiko mau no ia no-laila.
He aina haaheo loa no Puna;
I haaheo i ka hala me ka lehua;
He maikai maluna, he a malalo;
He kelekele ka papa o Mau-kele.
10 Kahuli Apua e, kele ana i Mau-kele.
[Translation.]
_Song_
(Bombastic style)
Thou art Hilo, Hilo, flood-gate of heaven.
Hilo has power to wring out the rain.
Let Hilo turn here and turn there;
Hilo’s kept from employ, somber with rain;
5 Pili-keko roars with full stream;
The feathers of Hilo bristle with cold,
And her hail-stones smite on the sand.
She lies without motion, with upturned face,
The fire-places pillowed with ashes;
10 The bullets of rain are slapping the land,
Pitiless rain turmoiling Pai-kaka.
So, indeed.
[Page 105]
2
In Puna was I, in Ku-ki’i, in Ha’e-ha’e,
I saw a wraith of lehua, a burning bush,
A fire-tree beneath the lava plate.
Magnificent Puna, fertile from rain,
5 At all times weaving its mantle.
Aye Puna’s a land of splendor,
Proudly bedight with palm and lehua;
Beauteous above, but horrid below,
And miry the plain of Mau-kele.
10 Apua upturned, plod on to Mau-kele.
_Mele_
Kau lilua i ke anu Wai-aleale;
He maka halalo ka lehua makanoe;[237]
He lihilihi kuku ia no Aipo,[238] e;
O ka hulu a’a ia o Hau-a-iliki;[239]
5 Ua pehi ’a e ka ua a éha ka nahele,
Maui ka pua, uwe éha i ke anu,
I ke kukuna la-wai o Mokihana.[240]
Ua hana ia aku ka pono a ua pololei;
Ua hai ’na ia aku no ia oe;
10 O ke ola no ia.
O kia’i loko, kia’i Ka-ula,[241]
Nana i ka makani, hoolono ka leo,
Ka halulu o ka Malua-kele;[242]
Kiei, halo i Maka-ike-ole.
15 Kamau ke ea i ka halau[243] a ola;
He kula lima ia no Wawae-noho,[244]
Me he puko’a hakahaka la i Waahila
Ka momoku a ka unu-lehua o Lehua.
A lehulehu ka hale pono ka noho ana,
20 Loaa kou haawina—o ke aloha,
Ke hauna[245] mai nei ka puka o ka hale.
Ea!
[Footnote 237: _Lehua makanoe_. The lehua trees that grow on
the top of Wai-aleale, the mountain mass of Kauai, are of
peculiar form, low, stunted, and so furzy as to be almost
thorny, _kuku_, as mentioned in the next line.]
[Footnote 238: _Ai-po_. A swamp that occupies the summit basin
of the mountain, in and about which the thorny lehua trees
above mentioned stand as a fringe.]
[Footnote 239: _Hau-a-iliki_. A word made up of _hau_, dew or
frost, and _iliki_, to smite. The _a_ is merely a
connective.]
[Footnote 240: _Mokihana_. The name of a region on the flank of
Wai-aleale, also a plant that grows there, whose berry is
fragrant and is used in making wreaths.]
[Footnote 241: _Ka-ula_. A small rocky island visible from
Kauai.]
[Footnote 242: _Malua-kele_. A wind.]
[Footnote 243: _Halau_. The shed or house which sheltered the
canoe, _wa’a_, which latter, as we have seen, was often used
figuratively to mean the human body, especially the body of a
woman. _Kamau ke ea i ka halau_ might be translated
“persistent the breath from her body.” “There’s kames o’
hinny ’tween my luve’s lips.”]
[Footnote 244: _Wawae-noho_. Literally the foot that abides; it
is the name of a place. Here it is to be understood as
meaning constancy. It is an instance in which the concrete
stands for the abstract.]
[Footnote 245: _Hauna_. An odor. In this connection it means
the odor that hangs about a human habitation. The hidden
allusion, it is needless to say, is to sexual
attractiveness.]
[Page 106]
[Translation.]
_Song_
Wai-aleale stands haughty and cold,
Her lehua bloom, fog-soaked, droops pensive;
The thorn-fringe set about swampy Ai-po is
A feather that flaunts in spite of the pinching frost.
5 Her herbage is pelted, stung by the rain;
Bruised all her petals, and moaning in cold
Mokihana’s sun, his wat’ry beams.
I have acted in good faith and honor,
My complaint is only to you—
10 A matter that touches my life.
Best watch within and toward Ka-ula;
Question each breeze, note every rumor,
Even the whisper of Malua-kele.
Search high and search low, unobservant.
15 There is life in the breath from her body,
Fond caress by a hand not inconstant.
Like fissured groves of coral
Stand the ragged clumps of lehua.
Many the houses, easy the life.
20 You have your portion—of love;
Humanity smells at the door.
Aye, indeed.
The imagery of this poem is peculiarly obscure and the
meaning difficult of translation. The allusions are so local
and special that their meaning does not carry to a distance.
Wai-aleale is the central mountain mass of Kauai, about 6,000
feet high. Its summit, a cold, fog-swept wilderness of swamp
and lake beset with dwarfish growths of lehua, is used as the
symbol of a woman, impulsively kind, yet in turn passionate
and disdainful. The physical attributes of the mountain are
ascribed to her, its spells of frosty coldness, its gloom and
distance, its fickleness of weather, the repellant
hirsuteness of the stunted vegetation that fringes the
central swamp—these things are described as symbols of her
temper, character, and physical make-up. The bloom and
herbage of the wilderness, much pelted by the storm, are
figures to represent her physical charms. But spite of all
these faults and imperfections, a perennial fragrance, as of
mokihana, clings to her person, and she is the object of
devoted love, capable of weaving the spell of fascination
about her victims.
This poem furnishes a good example of a peculiarity that
often is an obstacle to the understanding of Hawaiian poetry.
It is the breaking up of the composition into a number of
parts that have but a loose seeming connection the one with
the other.
[Illustration: BULLETIN 38 PLATE XI
ÚLI-ULÍ, A GOURD RATTLE]
[Page 107]
XIII.—THE HULA ÚLI-ULÍ
The hula _úli-ulí_ was so called from the rattle which was
its sole instrument of accompaniment. This consisted of a
small gourd about the size of a large orange, into the cavity
of which were put shot-like seeds, like those of the canna; a
handle was then attached (pl. xi).
The actors who took part in this hula belonged, it is said,
to the class termed hoopaa, and went through with the
performance while kneeling or squatting, as has been
described. While cantillating the mele they held the rattle,
_úli-ulí_, in the right hand, shaking it against the palm of
the other hand or the thigh, or making excursions in one
direction and another. In some performances of this hula
which the author has witnessed the olapa also took part, in
one case a woman, who stood and cantillated the song with
movement and gesture, while the hoopaa devoted themselves
exclusively to handling the úli-ulí rattles.
The sacrificial offerings that preceded the old-time
performances of this hula are said to have been awa and a
roast porkling, in honor of the goddess Laka.
If the dignity and quality of the meles now used, or reported
to have been used, in the hula _úli-ulí_ are to be taken as
any criterion of the quality and dignity of this hula, one
has to conclude that it must be assigned to a rank below that
of some others, such, for instance, as the _ala’a-papa_,
_pa-ipu_, _Pele_, and others.
David Malo, the Hawaiian historian, author of _Ka Moolelo
Hawaii_,[246] in the short chapter that he devotes to the hula,
mentions only ten hulas by name, the _ka-laau_,
_pa’i-umauma_, _pahu_, _pahu’a_, _ala’a-papa_, _pa’i-pa’i_,
_pa-ipu_, _ulili_, _kolani_, and the _kielei_. _Ulili_ is but
another form of the word _úli-ulí_. Any utterance of Malo is
to be received seriously; but it seems doubtful if he
deliberately selected for mention the ten hulas that were
really the most important. It seems more probable that he set
down the first ten that stood forth prominent in his memory.
It was not Malo’s habit, nor part of his education, to make
an exhaustive list of sports and games, or in fact of
anything. He spoke of what occurred to him. It must also be
remembered that, being an ardent convert to Christianity,
[Page 108] Malo felt himself conscience-bound to set himself in
opposition to the amusements, sports, and games of his
people, and he was unable, apparently, to see in them any
good whatsoever. Malo was a man of uncompromising honesty and
rigidity of principles. His nature, acting under the new
influences that surrounded him after the introduction of
Christianity, made it impossible for him to discriminate
calmly between the good and the pernicious, between the
purely human and poetic and the depraved elements in the
sports practised by his people during their period of
heathenism. There was nothing halfway about Malo. Having
abandoned a system, his nature compelled him to denounce it
root and branch.
[Footnote 246: Translated by N.B. Emerson, M.D., under the
title “Hawaiian Antiquities,” and published by the B.P.
Bishop Museum. Hawaiian Gazette Company (Limited), Honolulu,
1903.]
The first mele here offered as an accompaniment to this hula
can boast of no great antiquity; it belongs to the middle of
the nineteenth century, and was the product of some gallant
at a time when princes and princesses abounded in Hawaii:
_Mele_
Aole i manao ia.
Kahi wai a o Alekoki.
Hookohu ka ua i uka,
Noho mai la i Nuuanu.
5 Anuanu, makehewa au
Ke kali ana i-laila.
Ea ino paha ua paa
Kou manao i ane’i,
Au i hoomalu ai.
10 Hoomalu oe a malu;
Ua malu keia kino
Mamuli a o kou leo.
Kau nui aku ka manao
Kani wai a o Kapena.
15 Pani’a paa ia mai
Na manowai a o uka;
Ahu wale na ki’owai,
Na papa-hale o luna.
Maluna a’e no wau,
20 Ma ke kuono liilii.
A waho, a o Mamala,
Hao mai nei ehu-ehu;
Pulu au i ka huna-kai,
Kai heahea i ka ili.
25 Hookahi no koa nui,
Nana e alo ia ino.
Ino-ino mai nei luna,
I ka hao a ka makani.
He makani ahai-lono;
30 Lohe ka luna i Pelekane.
O ia pouli nui
Mea ole i ku’u manao.
I o, i a-ne’i au,
Ka piina la o Ma’ema’e,
[Page 109] 35 E kilohi au o ka nani
Na pua i Mauna-ala.
He ala ona-ona kou,
Ke pili mai i ane’i,
O a’u lehua ula i-luna,
40 Ai ono a na manu.
[Translation.]
_Song_
I spurn the thought with disdain
Of that pool Alekoki:
On the upland lingers the rain
And fondly haunts Nuuanu.
5 Sharp was the cold, bootless
My waiting up there.
I thought thou wert true,
Wert loyal to me,
Whom thou laids’t under bonds.
10 Take oath now and keep it;
This body is sacred to thee,
Bound by the word of thy mouth.
My heart leaps up at thought
Of the pool, pool of Kapena;
15 To me it is fenced, shut off,
The water-heads tightly sealed up.
The fountains must be a-hoarding,
For skies are ever down-pouring;
The while I am lodged up aloft,
20 Bestowed in the cleft of a rock.
Now, tossed by sea at Mamala,
The wind drives wildly the surf;
I’m soaked with the scud of the ocean,
My body is rough with the rime.
25 But one stout hero and soldier,
With heart to face such a storm.
Wild scud the clouds,
Hurled by the tempest,
A tale-bearing wind,
30 That gossips afar.
The darkness and storm
Are nothing to me.
This way and that am I turning,
Climbing the hill Ma’e-ma’e,
35 To look on thy charms, dear one,
The fragrant buds of the mountain.
What perfume breathes from thy body,
Such time as to thee I come close,
My scarlet bloom of lehua
40 Yields nectar sought by the birds.
This mele is said to have been the production of Prince
[Page 110] William Lunalilo—afterward King of the Hawaiian islands—and
to have been addressed to the Princess Victoria Kamamalu,
whom he sought in marriage. Both of them inherited high chief
rank, and their offspring, according to Hawaiian usage, would
have outranked her brothers, kings Kamehameha IV and V.
Selfish and political considerations, therefore, forbade the
match, and thereby hangs a tale, the shadow of which darkens
this song. Every lover is one part poet; and Lunalilo, even
without the love-flame, was more than one part poet.
The poem shows the influence of foreign ways and teachings
and the pressure of the new environment that had entered
Hawaii, in its form, in the moderation of its language and
imagery, and in the coherence of its parts; at the same time
the spirit of the song and the color of its native imagery
mark it as the product of a Polynesian mind.
According to the author’s interpretation of the song,
_Alekoki_ (verse 2), a name applied to a portion of the
Nuuanu stream lower down than the basin and falls of _Kapena_
(_Kahiwai a o Kapena_—verse 14), symbolizes a flame that may
once have warmed the singer’s imagination, but which he
discards in favor of his new love, the pool of Kapena. The
rain, which prefers to linger in the upland regions of Nuuanu
(verses 3 and 4) and which often reaches not the lower
levels, typifies his brooding affection. The cold, the storm,
and the tempest that rage at _Mamala_ (verse 21)—a name
given to the ocean just outside Honolulu harbor—and that
fill the heavens with driving scud (verses 27 and 28)
represent the violent opposition in high quarters to the
love-match. The tale-bearing wind, _makani ahai-lono_ (verse
29), refers, no doubt, to the storm of scandal. The use of
the place-names _Ma’ema’e_ and _Mauna-ala_ seem to indicate
Nuuanu as the residence of the princess.
_Mele_
PALE I
Auhea wale oe, e ka Makani Inu-wai?
Pa kolonahe i ka ili-kai,
Hoonui me ka Naulu,
Na ulu hua i ka hapapa.
5 Anó au ike i ke ko Hala-li’i,
I keia wa nana ia Lehua.
PALE II
Aia i Waimea ku’u haku-lei?
Hui pu me ka wai ula iliahi,
Mohala ka pua i ke one o Pawene;
10 Ka lawe a ke Koolau
Noho pu me ka ua punonohu ula i ka nahele,
Ike i ka wai kea o Makaweli;
[Page 111] Ua noho pu i ka nahele
Me ka lei hinahina o Maka-li’i.
15 Liilii ka uka o Koae’a;
Nana i ka ua lani-pili,
Ka ó-ó, manu le’a o ka nahele.
I Pa-ie-ie au, noho pu me ke anu.
E ha’i a’e oe i ka puana:
20 Ke kahuna kalai-hoe o Puu-ka-Pele.
[Translation.]
_Song_
CANTO I
Whence art thou, thirsty wind,
That gently kissest the sea,
Then, wed to the ocean breeze,
Playest fan with the breadfruit tree?
5 Here sprawl Hala-lii’s canes,
There stands bird-haunted Lehua.
CANTO II
My wreath-maker dwells at Waimea.
Partnered is she to the swirling river;
They plant with flowers the sandy lea,
10 While the bearded surf, tossed by the breeze,
Vaunts on the hills as the sun-bow,
Looks on the crystal stream Makaweli,
And in the wildwood makes her abode
With Hinahina of silvern wreaths.
15 Koaea’s a speck to the eye,
Under the low-hanging rain-cloud,
Woodland home of the plaintive ó-ó.
From frost-bitten Pa-ie-ie
I bid you, guess me the fable:
20 Paddle-maker on Pele’s mount.
This mele comes from Kauai, an Island in many respects
individualized from the other parts of the group and that
seems to have been the nurse of a more delicate imagination
than was wont to flourish elsewhere. Its tone is archaic, and
it has the rare merit of not transfusing the more crudely
erotic human emotions into the romantic sentiments inspired
by nature.
The Hawaiians dearly loved fable and allegory. Argument or
truth, dressed out in such fanciful garb, gained double force
and acceptance. We may not be able to follow a poet in his
wanderings; his local allusions may obscure to us much of his
meaning; the doctrine of his allegory may be to us largely a
riddle; and the connection between the body of its thought
and illustration and the application, or solution, of the
poetical conundrum may be past our comprehension; but the
[Page 112] play of the poet’s fancy, whether childish or mature, is an
interesting study, and brings us closer in human sympathy to
the people who took pleasure in such things.
In translating this poem, while not following literally the
language of the poet, the aim has been to hit the target
of his deeper meaning, without hopelessly involving the
reader in the complexities of Hawaiian color and local
topography. A few words of explanation must suffice.
The _Makani Inu-wai_ (verse 1)—known to all the islands—is
a wind that dries up vegetation, literally a water-drinking
wind.
The _Naulu_ (verse 3) is the ordinary sea-breeze at Waimea,
Kauai, sometimes accompanied by showers.
_Hala-li’i_ (verse 5) is a sandy plain on Niihau, and the
peculiarity of its canes is that they sprawl along on the
ground, and are often to a considerable extent covered by the
loose soil.
_Lehua_ (verse 6) is the well-known bird-island, lying north
of Niihau and visible from the Waimea side of Kauai.
The wreath-maker, _haku-lei_ (verse 7), who dwells at Waimea,
is perhaps the ocean-vapor, or the moist sea-breeze, or, it
may be, some figment of the poet’s imagination—the author
can not make out exactly what.
The _hinahina_ (verse 14), a native geranium, is a mountain
shrub that stands about 3 feet high, with silver-gray leaves.
_Maka-weli, Maka-li’i, Koae’a_, and _Pa-ie-ie_ are names of
places on Kauai.
_Puu-ka-Pele_ (verse 20) as the name indicates, is a volcanic
hill, situated near Waimea.
The key or answer (_puana_), to the allegory given in verse
20, _Ke kahuna kalai-hoe o Puu-ka-Pele_, the paddle-making
kahuna of Pele’s mount, when declared by the poet
(_haku-mele_), is not very informing to the foreign mind; but
to the Hawaiian auditor it, no doubt, took the place of our
_haec fabula docet_, and it at least showed that the poet was
not without an intelligent motive. In the poem in point the
author acknowledges his inability to make connection between
it and the body of the song.
One merit we must concede to Hawaiian poetry, it wastes no
time in slow approach. The first stroke of the artist places
the auditor _in medias res_.
[Page 113]
XIV.—THE HULA PUÍLI
The character of a hula was determined to some extent by the
nature of the musical instrument that was its accompaniment.
In the hula _puíli_ it certainly seems as if one could
discern the influence of the rude, but effective, instrument
that was its musical adjunct. This instrument, the _puíli_
(fig. 1), consisted of a section of bamboo from which one
node with its diaphragm had been removed and the hollow
joint at that end split up for a considerable distance into
fine divisions, which gave forth a breezy rustling when the
instrument was struck or shaken.
The performers, all of them hoopaa, were often placed in two
rows, seated or kneeling and facing one another, thus
favoring a responsive action in the use of the puíli as well
as in the cantillation of the song. One division would
sometimes shake and brandish their instruments, while the
others remained quiet, or both divisions would perform at
once, each individual clashing one puíli against the other
one held by himself, or against that of his vis-a-vis; or
they might toss them back and forth to each other, one bamboo
passing another in mid air.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.—Puíli, bamboo-rattle.]
While the hula puíli is undeniably a performance of classical
antiquity, it is not to be regarded as of great dignity or
importance as compared with many other hulas. Its character,
like that of the meles associated with it, is light and
trivial.
The mele next presented is by no means a modern production.
It seems to be the work of some unknown author, a fragment of
folklore, it might be called by some, that has drifted down
to the present generation and then been put to service in the
hula. If hitherto the word _folklore_ has not been used it is
not from any prejudice against it, but rather from a feeling
that there exists an inclination to stretch the application
of it beyond its true limits and to make it include popular
songs, stories, myths, and the like, regardless of its
fitness of application. Some writers, no doubt, would apply
this vague term to a large part of the poetical pieces which
are given in this book.
[Page 114]
On the same principle, why should they not apply the term
folklore to the myths and stories that make up the body of
Roman and Greek mythology? The present author reserves the
term folklore for application to those unappropriated scraps
of popular song, story, myth, and superstition that have
drifted down the stream of antiquity and that reach us in the
scrap-bag of popular memory, often bearing in their battered
forms the evidence of long use.
Mele
Hiki mai, niki mai ka La, e.
Aloha wale ka La e kau nei,
Aia malalo o Ka-wai-hoa,[247]
A ka lalo o Kauai, o Lehua.
5 A Kauai au, ike i ka pali;
A Milo-lii[248] pale ka pali loloa.
E kolo ana ka pali o Makua-iki;[249]
Kolo o Pu-á, he keiki,
He keiki makua-ole ke uwe nei.
[Translation.]
_Song_
It has come, it has come; lo the Sun!
How I love the Sun that’s on high;
Below it swims Ka-wai-hoa,
On the slope inclined from Lehua.
5 On Kauai met I a pali,
A beetling cliff that bounds Milo-lii,
And climbing up Makua-iki,
Crawling up was Pua, the child,
An orphan that weeps out its tale.
The writer has rescued the following fragment from the
wastebasket of Hawaiian song. A lean-to of modern verse has
been omitted; it was evidently added within a generation:
_Mele_
Malua,[250] ki’i wai ke aloha,
Hoopulu i ka liko mamane.
Uleuleu mai na manu,
Inu wai lehua o Panaewa,[251]
5 E walea ana i ke onaona,
Ke one wali o Ohele.
[Page 115] Hele mai nei kou aloha
A lalawe i ko’u nui kino,
Au i hookohu ai,
10 E kuko i ka manao.
Kuhi no paha oe no Hopoe[252]
Nei lehua au i ka hana ohi ai.
[Footnote 247: Kawaihoa. The southern point of Niihau, which is
to the west of Kauai, the evident standpoint of the poet, and
therefore “below” Kauai.]
[Footnote 248: _Milo-lii_. A valley on the northwestern angle
of Kauai, a precipitous region, in which travel from one
point to another by land is almost impossible.]
[Footnote 249: _Makua-iki_. Literally “little father,” a name
given to an overhanging pali, where was provided a hanging
ladder to make travel possible. The series of palis in this
region comes to an end at Milo-lii.]
[Footnote 250: The _Malua_ was a wind, often so dry that it
sucked up the moisture from the land and destroyed the tender
vegetation.]
[Footnote 251: Panaewa was a woodland region much talked of in
poetry and song.]
[Footnote 252: _Hopoe_ was a beautiful young woman, a friend
of Hiiaka, and was persecuted by Pele owing to jealousy. One
of the forms in which she as a divinity showed herself was as
a lehua tree in full bloom.]
[Translation.]
_Song_
Malua, fetch water of love,
Give drink to this mamane bud.
The birds, they are singing ecstatic,
Sipping Panaewa’s nectared lehua,
5 Beside themselves with the fragrance
Exhaled from the garden Ohele.
Your love comes to me a tornado;
It has rapt away my whole body,
The heart you once sealed as your own,
10 There planted the seed of desire.
Thought you ’twas the tree of Hopoe,
This tree, whose bloom you would pluck?
What is the argument of this poem? A passion-stricken swain,
or perhaps a woman, cries to _Malua_ to bring relief to his
love-smart, to give drink to the parched _mamane_
buds—emblems of human feeling. In contrast to his own
distress, he points to the birds caroling in the trees,
reveling in the nectar of _lehua_ bloom, intoxicated with the
scent of nature’s garden. What answer does the lovelorn swain
receive from the nymph he adores? In lines 11 and 12 she
banteringly asks him if he took her to be like the
traditional lehua tree of Hopoe, of which men stood in awe as
a sort of divinity, not daring to pluck its flowers? It is as
if the woman had asked—if the poet’s meaning is rightly
interpreted—“Did you really think me plighted to vestal
vows, a tree whose bloom man was forbidden to pluck?”
[Page 116]
XV.—THE HULA KA-LAAU
The hula _ka-laau_ (_ka_, to strike; _laau_, wood) was named
from the instruments of wood used in producing the
accompaniment, a sort of xylophone, in which one piece of
resonant wood was struck against another. Both divisions of
the performers, the hoopaa and the olapa, took part and each
division was provided with the instruments. The cantillation
was done sometimes by one division alone, sometimes by both
divisions in unison, or one division would answer the other,
a responsive chanting that was termed _haawe aku, haawe
mai_—“to give, to return.”
Ellis gives a quotable description of this hula, which he
calls the “hura ka raau:”
Five musicians advanced first, each, with a staff in his left
hand, five or six feet long, about three or four inches in
diameter at one end, and tapering off to a point at the
other. In his right hand he held a small stick of hard wood,
six or nine inches long, with which he commenced his music by
striking the small stick on the larger one, beating time all
the while with his right foot on a stone placed on the ground
beside him for that purpose. Six women, fantastically dressed
in yellow tapas, crowned, with garlands of flowers, having
also wreaths of native manufacture, of the sweet-scented
flowers of the _gardenia_, on their necks, and branches of
the fragrant _mairi_ (another native plant,) bound round
their ankles, now made their way by couples through the
crowd, and, arriving at the area, on one side of which the
musicians stood, began their dance. Their movements were
slow, and, though not always graceful, exhibited nothing
offensive to modest propriety. Both musicians and dancers
alternately chanted songs in honor of former gods and chiefs
of the islands, apparently much to the gratification of the
spectators. (Polynesian Researches, by William Ellis, IV,
78–79, London, 1836.)
The mele here first presented is said to be an ancient mele
that has been modified and adapted to the glorification of
that astute politician, genial companion, and pleasure-loving
king, Kalakaua.
It was not an uncommon thing for one chief to appropriate the
_mele inoa_ of another chief. By substituting one name for
another, by changing a genealogy, or some such trifle, the
skin of the lion, so to speak, could be made to cover with
more or less grace and to serve as an apparel of masquerade
for the ass, and without interruption so long as there was no
lion, or lion’s whelp, to do the unmasking.
The poets who composed the mele for a king have been spoken
of as “the king’s washtubs.” Mele inoa were not crown-jewels
[Page 117] to be passed from one incumbent of the throne to another. The
practice of appropriating the mele inoa composed in honor of
another king and of another line was one that grew up with
the decadence of honor in times of degeneracy.
_Mele_
O Kalakaua, he inoa,
O ka pua mae ole i ka la;
Ke pua mai la i ka mauna,
I ke kuahiwi o Mauna-kea;
5 Ke a la i Ki-lau-e-a,
Malamalama i Wahine-kapu,
I ka luna o Uwe-kahuna,
I ka pali kapu o Ka-au-e-a.
E a mai ke alii kia-manu;
10 Ua Wahí i ka hulu o ka mamo,
Ka pua nani o Hawaii;
O Ka-la-kaua, he inoa!
[Translation.]
Song
Ka-la-kaua, a great name,
A flower not wilted by the sun;
It blooms on the mountains,
In the forests of Mauna-kea;
5 It burns in Ki-lau-e-a,
Illumines the cliff Wahine-kapu,
The heights of Uwe-kabuna,
The sacred pali of Ka-au-e-a.
Shine forth, king of bird-hunters,
10 Resplendent in plumage of mamo,
Bright flower of Hawaii:
Ka-la-kaua, the Illustrious!
The proper names _Wahine-kapu, Uwe-kahuna_, and _Ka-au-e-a_
in the sixth, seventh, and eighth verses are localities,
cliffs, bluffs, precipices, etc., in and about the great
caldera of Kilauea, following up the mention (in the fifth
verse) of that giant among the world’s active volcanoes.
The purpose of the poem seems to be to magnify the prowess of
this once famous king as a captivator of the hearts and
loving attentions of the fair sex.
_Mele_
Kona kai opua[253] i kala i ka la’i;
Opua hinano ua i ka malie;
Hiolo na wai naoa a ke kehau,
[Page 118] Ke’ na-ú[254] la na kamalii,
5 Ke kaohi la i ke kukuna o ka la;
Ku’u la koili i ke kai—
Pumehana wale ia aina!
Aloha wale ke kini o Hoolulu,
Aohe lua ia oe ke aloha,
10 O ku’u puni, o ka me’ owá.
[Footnote 253: _Opua_ means a distinct cloud-pile, an omen, a
weather-sign.]
[Footnote 254: The word _na-ú_ refers to a sportive contest
involving a trial of lung-power, that was practised by the
youth of Kona, Hawaii, as well as of other places. They stood
on the shore at sunset, and as the lower limb of the sun
touched the ocean horizon each one, having filled his lungs
to the utmost, began the utterance of the sound _na-u-u-u-u_,
which he must, according to the rules of the game, maintain
continuously until the sun had disappeared, a lapse of about
two minutes’ time. This must be done without taking fresh
breath. Anyone inhaling more air into his lungs or
intermitting the utterance of the sound was compelled by the
umpire to withdraw from the contest and to sit down, while
anyone who maintained the droning utterance during the
prescribed time was declared victor. It was no mean trial.]
[Translation.]
_Song_
The cloud-piles o’er Kona’s sea whet my joy,
Clouds that drop fain in fair weather.
The clustered dew-pearls shake to the ground;
The boys drone out the na-ú to the West,
5 Eager for Sol to sink to his rest.
This my day for a plunge in the sea—
The Sun will be warming other shores—
Happy the tribes of that land of calm!
Fathomless, deep is my love
10 To thee, my passion, my mate.
The author of this love-song, _mele ipo_, is said to have
been Kalola, a widow of Kamehameha I, at a time when she was
an old woman; the place was Lahaina, and the occasion an
amour between Liholiho (Kamehameha II) and a woman of rank.
The last two verses of the poem have been omitted from the
present somewhat free, yet faithful translation, as they do
not seem to be of interest or pertinent from our point of
view, and there is internal evidence that they were added as
an afterthought.
The hulas on the various islands differed somewhat from one
another. In general, it may be said that on Kauai they were
presented with more spirit and in greater variety than in
other parts of the group. The following account will
illustrate this fact:
About the year 1870 the late Queen Emma made the tour of the
island of Kauai, and at some places the hula was performed as
a recreation in her honor. The hula ka-laau was thus
presented; it was marked, however, by such peculiarities as
to make it hardly recognizable as being the same performance
as the one elsewhere known by that name. As given on Kauai,
both the olapa and the hoopaa took part, as they do on the
[Page 119] other islands, but in the Kauai performance the olapa alone
handled the two sticks of the xylophone, which in other parts
formed the sole instrument of musical accompaniment to this
hula. Other striking novelties also were introduced. The
olapa held between their toes small sticks with which they
beat upon a resonant beam of wood that lay on the floor, thus
producing tones of a low pitch. Another departure from the
usual style of this hula was that the hoopaa, at the same
time, devoted themselves with the right hand to playing upon
the pu-niu, the small drum, while with the left they
developed the deep bass of the pahu. The result of this outre
combination must have been truly remarkable.
It is a matter of observation that on the island of Kauai
both the special features of its spoken language and the
character of its myths and legends indicate a closer
relationship to the groups of the southern Pacific, to which
the Hawaiian people owe their origin, than do those of the
other islands of the Hawaiian group.
[Page 120]
XVI.—THE HULA ÍLI-ÍLI
The _hula íli-íli_, pebble-dance, was a performance of the
classical times, in which, according to one who has witnessed
it, the olapa alone took part. The dancers held in each hand
a couple of pebbles, _ili-ili_—hence the name of the
dance—which they managed to clash against each other, after
the fashion of castanets, thus producing a rude music of much
the same quality as that elicited from the “bones” in our
minstrel performances. According to another witness, the drum
also was sometimes used in connection with the pebbles as an
accompaniment to this hula.
The ili-ili was at times a hula of intensity—that is to say,
was acted with that stress of voice and manner which the
Hawaiians termed _ai-ha’a_; but it seems to have been more
often performed in that quiet natural tone of voice and of
manner termed _ko’i-honua_, which may be likened to utterance
in low relief.
The author can present only the fragment of a song to
illustrate this hula:
_Mele_
A lalo maua o Wai-pi’o,
Ike i ka nani o Hi’i-lawe.
E lawe mai a oki
I na hala o Naue i ke kai,
5 I na lehua lu-lu’u pali;
Noho ana lohe i ke kani o ka o-ó,
Hoolono aku i ka leo o ke kahuli.
[Translation.]
_Song_
We twain were lodged in Wai-pi’o,
Beheld Hi’i-lawe, the grand.
We brought and cut for our love-wreath
The rich hala drupe from Naue’s strand,
5 Tufted lehua that waves on the cliff;
Then sat and gave ear to song of o-ó,
Or harked the chirp of the tree-shell.
_Wai-pi’o_, the scene of this idyl, is a valley deep and
broad which the elements have scooped out in the windward
exposure of Hawaii, and scarce needs mention to Hawaiian
[Page 121] tourists. _Hi’i-lawe_ is one of several high waterfalls that
leap from the world of clouds into the valley-basin.
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 38 PLATE XII
[Illustration:
PUPU-KANI-OE, POETICALLY STYLED KAHULI
HAWAIIAN TREE-SHELLS (ACHATINELLA)]
_Kahuli_ is a fanciful name applied to the beautiful and
unique genus of tree-shells (Achatinella), plate XII, that
inhabit the Hawaiian woods. The natives are persuaded that
these shells have the power of chirping a song of their own,
and the writer has often heard the note which they ascribe to
them; but to his ear it was indistinguishable from the piping
of the cricket. This is the song that the natives credit to
the tree-shells:
_Mele_
Kahuli aku,
Kahuli mai,
Kahuli lei ula,
Lei akolea.[255]
5 Kolea, kolea,[256]
Ki’i ka wai,
Wai akolea.
[Translation.]
_Song of the Tree-shell_
Trill a-far,
Trill a-near,
A dainty song-wreath,
Wreath akolea.
5 Kolea, Kolea,
Fetch me some dew,
Dew from pink akolea.
This little piece of rustic imagination is said to have been
used in the hula, but in connection with what dance the
author has not been able to learn.
[Footnote 255: The _akolea_ is a fern (by some classed as a
Polypodium) which, according to Doctor Hillebrand (Flora of
the Hawaiian Islands), “sustains its extraordinary length by
the circinnate tips which twine round the branches of
neighboring shrubs or trees.”]
[Footnote 256: _Kolea_. The red-breasted plover.]
[Page 122]
XVII.—THE HULA KÁ-ÉKE-ÉKE
The _kaekeeke_ was a formal hula worthy of high
consideration. Some authorities assert that the performers in
this dance were chosen from the hoopaa alone, who, it will be
remembered, maintained the kneeling position, while,
according to another authority, the olapa also took part in
it. There is no reason for doubting the sincerity of both
these witnesses. The disagreement probably arose from hasty
generalization. One is reminded of the wise Hawaiian saw,
already noted, “Do not think that your halau holds all the
knowledge.”
This hula took its name from the simple instrument that
formed its musical accompaniment. This consisted of a single
division of the long-jointed bamboo indigenous to Hawaii,
which was left open at one end. (The varieties of bamboo
imported from China or the East Indies have shorter joints
and thicker walls, and will not answer the purpose, being not
sufficiently resonant.) The joints used in the kaekeeke were
of different sizes and lengths, thus producing tones of
various pitch. The performer held one in each hand and the
tone was elicited by striking the base of the cylinder
sharply against the floor or some firm, nonresonant body.
On making actual trial of the kaekeeke, in order to prove by
experience its musical quality and capabilities, the writer’s
pleasure was as great as his surprise when he found it
capable of producing musical tones of great purity and of the
finest quality. Experiment soon satisfied him that for the
best production of the tone it was necessary to strike the
bamboo cylinder smartly upon some firm, inelastic substance,
such as a bag of sand. The tone produced was of crystalline
purity, and by varying the size and length of the cylinders
it proved possible to represent a complete musical scale. The
instrument was the germ of the modern organ.
The first mele to be presented partakes of the nature of the
allegory, a form of composition not a little affected by the
Hawaiians:
_Mele_
A Hamakua au,
Noho i ka ulu hala.
Malihini au i ka hiki ana,
I ka ua pe’epe’e pohaku.
5 Noho oe a li’u-li’u,
A luli-luli malie iho.
[Page 123]
He keiki akamai ko ia pali;
Elima no pua i ka lima.
Kui oe a lawa
10 I lei no ku’u aloha;
Malama malie oe i ka makemake,
I lei hooheno no ke aloha ole.
Moe oe a ala mai;
Nana iho oe i kou pono.
15 Hai’na ia ka puana:
Keiki noho pali o Hamakua;
A waka-waka, a waka-waka.
[Translation.]
_Song_
It was in Hamakua;
I sat in a grove of Pandanus,
A stranger at my arrival,
A rock was my shelter from rain.
5 I found it a wearisome wait,
Cautiously shifting about.
There’s a canny son of the cliff
That has five buds to his hand.
You shall twine me a wreath of due length,
10 A wreath to encircle my love,
Whilst you hold desire in strong curb,
Till love-touch thaws the cold-hearted.
When you rise from sleep on the mat,
Look down, see the conquest of love.
15 The meaning of this short story?
What child fondly clings to the cliff?
Waka-waka, the shell-fish.
The scene of this idyl, this love-song, _mele hoipoipo_, is
Hamakua, a district on the windward side of Hawaii, subject
to rain-squalls. The poet in his allegory represents himself
as a stranger sitting in a pandanus grove, _ulu hala_ (verse
2); sheltering himself from a rain-squall by crouching behind
a rock, _ua pe’epe’e pohaku_ (verse 4); shifting about on
account of the veering of the wind, _luli-luli malie iho_
(verse 6). Interpreting this figuratively, Hamakua, no doubt,
is the woman in the case; the grove an emblem of her
personality and physical charms; the rain-squall, of her
changeful moods and passions. The shifting about of the
traveler to meet the veering of the wind would seem to mean
the man’s diplomatic efforts to deal with the woman’s varying
caprices and outbursts.
He now takes up a parable about some creature, a child of the
cliff—Hamakua’s ocean boundary is mostly a precipitous
wall—which he represents as a hand with five buds.
Addressing it as a servant, he bids this creature twine a
[Page 124] wreath sufficient for his love, _kui oe a_ _lawa_ (verse 9),
_I lei no ku’u aloha_ (verse 10). This creature with five
buds, what is it but the human hand, the errand-carrier of
man’s desire, _makemake_ (verse 11)? The _pali_, by the way,
is a figure often used by Hawaiian poets to mean the glory
and dignity of the human body.
That is a fine imaginative touch in which the poet
illustrates the power of the human hand to kindle love in one
that is cold-hearted, as if he had declared the hand itself
to be not only the wreath-maker, but the very wreath that is
to encircle and warm into response the unresponsive loved
one, _I lei hooheno no ke aloha ole_ (verse 12).
Differences of physical environment, of social convention, of
accepted moral and esthetic standards interpose seemingly
impassable barriers between us and the savage mind, but at
the touch of an all-pervading human sympathy these barriers
dissolve into very thin air.
_Mele_
Kahiki-nui, auwahi[257] ka makani!
Nana aku au ia Kona,
Me ke kua lei ahi[258] la ka moku;
Me ke lawa uli e, la, no
5 Ku’u kai pa-ú hala-ká[259]
I ka lae o Hana-maló;[260]
Me he olohe ili polohiwa,
Ke ku a mauna,
Ma ka ewa lewa[261] Hawaii.
10 Me he ihu leiwi la, ka moku,
Kou mauna, kou palamoa:[262]
Kau a waha mai Mauna-kea[263]
A me Mauna-loa,[263]
Ke ku a Maile-hahéi.[264]
15 Uluna mai Mauna Kilohana[265]
I ka poohiwi o Hu’e-Hu’e.[265]
[Footnote 257: _Auwahi_ (a word not found in any dictionary)
is said by a scholarly Hawaiian to be an archaic form of the
word _uwahi_, or _uahi_ (milk of fire), smoke, _Kahiki-nui_
is a dry region and the wind (_makani_) often fills the air
with dust.]
[Footnote 258: _Kua lei ahi_. No Hawaiian has been found who
professes to know the true meaning of these words. The
translation of them here given is, therefore, purely formal.]
[Footnote 259: _Pa-ú halaká_. An expression sometimes applied
to the hand when used as a shield to one’s modesty; here it
is said of the ocean (_kai_) when one’s body is immersed in
it.]
[Footnote 260: _Hana-maló_. A cape that lies between Kawaihae
and Kailua in north Kona.]
[Footnote 261: _Ewa lewá_. In this reading the author has
followed the authoritative suggestion of a Hawaiian expert,
substituting it for that first given by another, which was
_elewa_. The latter was without discoverable meaning. Even as
now, given conjectures as to its meaning are at variance. The
one followed presents the less difficulty.]
[Footnote 262: _Palamoa_. The name of a virulent _kupua_ that
acted as errand-carrier and agent for sorcerers (_kahuna
ánaaná_); also the name of a beautiful grass found on Hawaii
that has a pretty red seed. Following the line of least
resistance, the latter meaning has been adopted; in it is
found a generic expression for the leafy covering of the
island.]
[Footnote 263: _Mauna-kea_ and _Mauna-loa_. The two well-known
mountains of the big island of Hawaii.]
[Footnote 264: _Maile-hahei_. Said to be a hill in Kona.]
[Footnote 265: _Kilohana_ and _Hu’e-hu’e_. The names of two
hills in Kona, Hawaii.]
[Page 125]
[Translation.]
_Song_
Kahiki-nui, land of wind-driven smoke!
Mine eyes gaze with longing on Kona;
A fire-wreath glows aback of the district,
And a robe of wonderful green
5 Lies the sea that has aproned my loins
Off the point of Hana-malo.
A dark burnished form is Hawaii,
To one who stands on the mount—
A hamper swung down from heaven,
10 A beautiful carven shape is the island—
Thy mountains, thy splendor of herbage:
Mauna-kea and Loa stand (in glory) apart,
To him who looks from Maile-hahéi;
And Kilohana pillows for rest
15 On the shoulder of Hu’e-hu’e.
This love-song—_mele hoipoipo_—which would be the
despair of a strict literalist—what is it all about? A
lover in Kahiki-nui—of the softer sex, it would appear—
looks across the wind-swept channel and sends her thoughts
lovingly, yearningly, over to Kona of Hawaii, which district
she personifies as her lover. The mountains and plains,
valleys and capes of its landscapes, are to her the parts and
features of her beloved. Even in the ocean that flows between
her and him, and which has often covered her nakedness as
with a robe, she finds a link in the chain of association.
[Page 126]
XVIII.—AN INTERMISSION
During the performance of a hula the halau and all the people
there assembled are under a tabu, the imposition of which was
accomplished by the opening prayer that had been offered
before the altar. This was a serious matter and laid everyone
present under the most formal obligations to commit no breach
of divine etiquette; it even forbade the most innocent
remarks and expressions of emotion. But when the performers,
wearied of the strait-jacket, determined to unbend and
indulge in social amenities, to lounge, gossip, and sing
informal songs, to quaff a social bowl of awa, or to indulge
in an informal dance, they secured the opportunity for this
interlude, by suspending the tabu. This was accomplished by
the utterance of a _pule hoo-noa_, a tabu-lifting prayer. If
the entire force of the tabu was not thus removed, it was at
least so greatly mitigated that the ordinary conversations of
life might be carried on without offense. The pule was
uttered by the kumu or some person who represented the
whole-company:
_Pule Hoo-noa_
Lehua[266] i-luna,
Lehua i-lalo,
A wawae,
A Ka-ulua,[267]
5 A o Haumea,[268]
Kou makua-kane,[269]
Manu o Kaáe;[270]
A-koa-koa,
O Pe-kau,[271]
10 O Pe-ka-nana,[272]
[Page 127] Papa pau.
Pau a’e iluna;
O Ku-mauna,
A me Laka,
15 A me Ku.
Ku i ka wao,
A me Hina,
Huna mele-lani.
A ua pau;
20 Pau kakou;
A ua noa;
Noa ke kahua;
Noa!
[Footnote 266: _Lehua_. See plate XIII.]
[Footnote 267: _Ka-ulua_. The name of the third month of the
Hawaiian year, corresponding to late January or February, a
time when In the latitude of Hawaii nature does not refrain
from leafing and flowering.]
[Footnote 268: _Haumea_. The name applied after her death and
apotheosis to Papa, the wife of Wakea, and the ancestress of
the Hawaiian race. (The Polynesian Race, A. Fornander, 1,
205. London, 1878.)]
[Footnote 269: It is doubtful to whom the expression
“makua-kane” refers, possibly to Wakea, the husband of Papa;
and if so, very properly termed father, ancestor, of the
people.]
[Footnote 270: _Manu o Kaáe_ (_Manu-o-Kaáe_ it might be
written) is said to have been a goddess, one of the family of
Pele, a sister of the sea nymph _Moana-nui-ka-lehua_,
whose dominion was in the waters between Oahu and Kauai. She
is said to have had the gift of eloquence.]
[Footnote 271: _Pe-káu_ refers to the ranks and classes of the
gods.]
[Footnote 272: _Pe-ka-naná_ refers to men, their ranks and
classes.]
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 38 PLATE XIII
[Illustration: LEHUA (METROSIDEROS POLYMORPHA) FLOWERS AND LEAVES]
[Translation.]
_Power to Remove Tabu_
Bloom of lehua on altar piled,
Bloom of lehua below,
Bloom of lehua at altar’s base,
In the month Ka-ulua.
5 Present here is Haumea,
And the father of thee,
And the goddess of eloquent speech;
Gather, now gather,
Ye ranks of gods,
10 And ye ranks of men,
Complete in array.
The heavenly service is done,
Service of Ku of the mount,
Service of Laka,
15 And the great god Ku,
Ku of the wilds,
And of Hina,
Hina, the heavenly singer.
Now it is done,
20 Our work is done;
The tabu is lifted,
Free is the place,
Tabu-free!
Here also is another pule hoo-noa, a prayer-song addressed to
Laka, an intercession for the lifting of the tabu. It will be
noticed that the request is implied, not explicitly stated.
All heads are lifted, all eyes are directed heavenward or to
the altar, and the hands with a noiseless motion keep time as
the voices of the company, led by the kumu, in solemn
cantillation, utter the following prayer:
[Page 128]
_Pule Hoo-noa no Laka_
Pupu we’u-we’u[273] e, Láka e,
O kona we’u-we’u e ku-wá;[274]
O Ku-ka-ohia-Laká,[275] e;
Laua me Ku-pulu-pulu;[276]
5 Ka Lehua me ke Koa lau-lii;
O ka Lama me Moku-halii,
Kú-i-kú-i[277] me ka Hala-pepe;
Lakou me Lau-ka-ie-ie,
Ka Palai me Maile-lau-lii.
10 Noa, noa i kou kuahu;
Noa, noa ia oe, Làka;
Pa-pá-lùa noa!
[Translation.]
_Tabu-lifting Prayer (to Laka)_
Oh wildwood bouquet, O Láka!
Set her greenwood leaves in order due;
And Ku, god of Ohia-La-ká,
He and Ku, the shaggy,
5 Lehua with small-leafed Koa,
And Lama and Moku-hali’i,
Kú-i-kú-i and Hála-pé-pé;
And with these leafy I-e-i-e,
Fern and small-leafed Maile.
10 Free, the altar is free!
Free through, you, Laka,
Doubly free!
[Footnote 273: _Pupu we’u-we’u_. A bouquet. The reference is to
the wreaths and floral decorations that bedecked the altar,
and that were not only offerings to the goddess, but symbols
of the diverse forms in which she manifested herself. At the
conclusion of a performance the players laid upon the altar
the garlands they themselves had worn. These were in addition
to those which were placed there before the play began.]
[Footnote 274: _Ku-wá_. It has cost much time and trouble to
dig out the meaning of this word. The fundamental notion is
that contained in its two parts, _ku_, to stand, and _wa_, an
interval or space, the whole meaning to arrange or set in
orderly intervals.]
[Footnote 275: _La-ká_. A Tahitian name for the tree which in
Hawaii is called _lehua_, or _ohia_. In verse 3 the Hawaiian
name _ohia_ and the Tahitian _laká_ (accented on the final
syllable, thus distinguishing it from the name of the goddess
_Láka_, with which it has no discoverable connection) are
combined in one form as an appellation of the god
_Ku-ku-ka-ohia-Laká_. This is a notable instance of the
survival of a word as a sacred epithet in a liturgy, which
otherwise, had been lost to the language.]
[Footnote 276: _Ku-pulu-pulu_. Ku, the fuzzy or shaggy, a deity
much worshiped by canoe-makers, represented as having the
figure of an old man with a long beard. In the sixth verse
the full form of the god’s name here given as _Moku-ha-li’i_
would be _Ku-moku-hali’i_, the last part being an epithet
applied to _Ku_ working in another capacity. _Moku-hali’i_ is
the one who bedecks the island. His special emblem, as here
implied, was the _lama_, a beautiful tree, whose wood was
formerly used in making certain sacred inclosures. From this
comes the proper name _Palama_, one of the districts of
Honolulu.]
[Footnote 277: _Kú-i-kú-i_. The same as the tree now called
_ku-kú-i_, the tree whose nuts were used as candles and
flambeaus. The Samoan name of the same tree is _tú-i-tú-i_.]
But even now, when the tabu has been removed and the assembly
is supposed to have assumed an informal character, before
they may indulge themselves in informalities, there remains
to be chanted a dismissing prayer, _pule hooku’u_, in which
all voices must join:
[Page 129]
_Pule Hooku’u_
Ku ka makaia a ka huaka’i moe ipo;[278]
Ku au, hele;
Noho oe, aloha!
Aloha na hale o makou i makamaka ole,
5 Ke alanui hele mauka o Huli-wale,[279] la;
H-u-l-i.
E huli a’e ana i ka makana,
I ke alana ole e kanaenae aku ia oe.
Eia ke kanaenae, o ka leo.
[Translation.]
_Dismissing Prayer_
Doomed sacrifice I in the love-quest,
I stand [loin-girt][280] for the journey;
To you who remain, farewell!
Farewell to our homes forsaken.
5 On the road beyond In-decision,
I turn me about—
Turn me about, for lack of a gift,
An offering, intercession, for thee—
My sole intercession, the voice.
[Footnote 278: A literal translation of the first line would be
as follows: (Here) stands the doomed sacrifice for the
journey in search of a bed-lover.]
[Footnote 279: _Huli-wale_. To turn about, here used as the
name of a place, is evidently intended figuratively to stand
for mental indecision.]
[Footnote 280: The bracketed phrase is not in the text of the
original.]
This fragment—two fragments, in fact, pieced
together—belongs to the epic of Pele. As her little sister,
Hiiaka, is about to start on her adventurous journey to bring
the handsome Prince Lohiau from the distant island of Kauai
she is overcome by a premonition of Pele’s jealousy and
vengeance, and she utters this intercession.
The formalities just described speak for themselves. They
mark better than any comments can do the superstitious
devotion of the old-timers to formalism, their remoteness
from that free touch of social and artistic pleasure, the
lack of which we moderns often lament in our own lives and
sigh for as a lost art, conceiving it to have been once the
possession of “the children of nature.”
The author has already hinted at the form and character of
the entertainments with which hula-folk sometimes beguiled
their professional interludes. Fortunately the author is able
to illustrate by means of a song the very form of
entertainment they provided for themselves on such an
occasion. The following mele, cantillated with an
accompaniment of expressive gesture, is one that was actually
given at an awa-drinking bout indulged in by hula-folk. The
author has an account of its recital at Kahuku, island of
Oahu, so late as the year 1849, during a circuit of that
[Page 130] island made by King Kamehameha III. This mele is reckoned as
belonging to the ordinary repertory of the hula; but to which
particular form of the dance it was devoted has not been
learned:
_Mele_
Ua ona o Kane i ka awa;
Ua kau ke kéha[281] i ka uluna;
Ua hi’o-lani[282] i ka moena.
Kipú mai la i ke kapa o ka noe.
5 Noe-noe na hokú o ka lani—
Imo-imo mai la i ka po a’e-a’e.
Mahana-lua[283] na kukui a Lanikaula,[274]
He kaula no Kane.[285]
Meha na pali o Wai-pi’o
10 I ke kani mau o Kiha-pú;
A ono ole ka awa a ke alii
I ke kani mau o Kiha-pú;
Moe ole kona po o ka Hooilo;
Uluhua, a uluhua,
15 I ka mea nana e huli a loaa
I kela kupua ino i ka pali,
Olali la, a olali.
[Translation.]
_Song_
Kane is drunken with awa;
His head is laid on the pillow;
His body stretched on the mat.
A trumpet sounds through the fog,
5 Dimmed are the stars in the sky;
When the night is clear, how they twinkle!
Lani-kaula’s torches look double,
The torches that burn for Kane.
Ghostly and drear the walls of Waipio
10 At the endless blasts of Kiha-pú.
The king’s awa fails to console him;
’Tis the all-night conching of Kiha-pú.
Broken his sleep the whole winter;
Downcast and sad, sad and downcast,
15 At loss to find a brave hunter
Shall steal the damned conch from the cliff.
Look, how it gleams [through the fog]!
[Footnote 281: _Kéha_ is an elegant expression for the side of
the head.]
[Footnote 282: _Hi’o-lani_, literally to turn the side to
heaven, is a classic expression of refinement.]
[Footnote 283: _Mahana-lua_, literally to see double, was an
accepted test of satisfactory drunkenness. It reminds the
author of an expression he once heard used by the comedian
Clarke in the play of Toodles. While in a maudlin state from
liquor he spoke of the lighted candle that was in his hand as
a “double-barreled candle.”]
[Footnote 284: _Lani-kaula_ was a prophet who lived on Molokai
at a place that still bears his name. He had his residence in
the midst of a grove of fine kukui trees, the remnants of
which remain to this day. Torches made from the nuts of these
trees were supposed to be of superior quality and they
furnished the illumination for the revelries of Kane and his
fellows.]
[Footnote 285: _He kaula no Kane_. A literal translation would
be, a prophet of Kane.]
BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY
BULLETIN 38 PLATE XIV
[Illustration: HAWAIIAN TRUMPET, PU (CASSIS MADAGASCARENSIS)]
[Page 131]
Kane, the chief god of the Hawaiian pantheon, in company with
other immortals, his boon companions, met in revelry on the
heights bounding Wai-pi’o valley. With each potation of awa
they sounded a blast upon their conch-shells, and the racket
was almost continuous from the setting of the sun until
drowsiness overcame them or the coming of day put an end to
their revels.
The tumult of sound made it impossible for the priests to
perform acceptably the offices of religion, and the pious
king, Liloa, was distressed beyond measure. The whole valley
was disturbed and troubled with forebodings at the suspension
of divine worship.
The chief offender was Kane himself. The trumpet which he
held to his lips was a conch of extraordinary size (pl. XIV)
and credited with a divine origin and the possession of
supernatural power; its note was heard above all the others.
This shell, the famed Kiha-pú, had been stolen from the heiau
of Paka’a-lána, Liloa’s temple in Waipi’o valley, and after
many adventures had come into the hands of god Kane, who used
it, as we see, for the interruption of the very services that
were intended for his honor.
The relief from this novel and unprecedented situation came
from an unexpected quarter. King Liloa’s awa-patches were
found to be suffering from the nocturnal visits of a thief. A
watch was set; the thief proved to be a dog, Puapua-lenalena,
whose master was a confirmed awa-toper. When master and dog
were brought into the presence of King Liloa, the shrewd
monarch divined the remarkable character of the animal, and
at his suggestion the dog was sent on the errand which
resulted in the recovery by stealth of the famed conch
Kiha-pú. As a result of his loss of the conch, Kane put an
end to his revels, and the valley of Wai-pi’o again had
peace.
This mele is an admirable specimen of Hawaiian poetry, and
may be taken as representative of the best product of
Hawaii’s classical period. The language is elegant and
concise, free from the redundancies that so often load down
Hawaiian compositions. No one, it is thought, will deny to
the subject-matter of this mele an unusual degree of
interest.
There is a historic side to the story of the conch-shell
Kiha-pú. Not many years ago the Hawaiian Museum contained an
ethnological specimen of great interest, the conch-shell
Kiha-pú. It was fringed, after the fashion of a witch-doll,
with strings, beads, and wampumlike bits of mother-of-pearl,
and had great repute as a _kupua_ or luckbringer. King
Kalakaua, who affected a sentimental leaning to the notions
of his mother’s race, took possession of this famous “curio”
and it disappeared from public view.
[Page 132]
XIX.—THE HULA NIAU-KANI
The hula _niau-kani_ was one of the classic dances of the
halau, and took its name from the musical instrument that was
its accompaniment. This was a simple, almost extemporaneous,
contrivance, constructed, like the Jew’s-harp, on the
principle of a reed instrument. It was made of two parts, a
broad piece of bamboo with a longitudinal slit at one end and
a thin narrow piece of the same material, the reed, which was
held firmly against the fenestra on the concave side of part
number one. The convexity of the instrument was pressed
against the lips and the sound was produced by projecting
the breath through the slit in a speaking or singing tone in
such a way as to cause vibrations in the reed. The manner of
constructing and operating this reed instrument is suggestive
of the jew’s-harp. It is asserted by those who should know
that the niau-kani was an instrument of purely Hawaiian
invention.
The performer did not depend simply upon the musical tone,
but rather upon the modification it produced in the
utterances that were strained through it. It would certainly
require a quick ear, much practice, and a thorough
acquaintance with the peculiarities of Hawaiian mele to
enable one to distinguish the words of a song after being
transformed by passage through the niau-kani.
As late as about thirty or forty years ago the niau-kani was
often seen in the hands of the native Hawaiian youth, who
used it as a means of romantic conversations and flirtation.
Since the coming in of the Portuguese and their importation
of the _uku-lele_, the _taro-patch-fiddle_, and other cheap
stringed instruments, the niau-kani has left the field to
them and disappeared.
The author’s informant saw the niau-kani dance performed some
years ago at Moana-lua, near Honolulu, and again on the
island of Kauai. The dance in each case was the same. The
kumu, aided by a pupil, stood and played on the niau-kani,
straining the cantillations through the reed-protected
aperture, while the olapa, girls, kept time to the music with
the movements of their dancing,
[Page 133]
_Mele_
E pi’i ka wai ka nahele,
U’ina, nakolo i na Molo-kama;[286]
Ka ua lele mawaho o Mamala-hoa.
He manao no ko’u e ike
5 I na pua ohi’a o Kupa-koili,[287]
I hoa kaunu no Manu’a-kepa;[288]
Ua like laua me Maha-moku.[289]
Anapa i ke kai o Mono-lau.[290]
Lalau ka lima a noa ia ia la,
10 I hoa pili no Lani-huli.[291]
E huli oe i ku’u makemake,
A loa’a i Kau-ka-opua.[292]
Elua no pua kau
A ka manao i makemake ai.
15 Hoohihi oe a hihi
I lei kohu no neia kino.
Ahea oe hiki mai?
A kau ka La i na pali;[293]
Ka huli a ka makani Wai-a-ma’o,[294]
20 Makemake e iki ia ka Hala-mapu-ana,
Ka wai halana i Wai-pá.[295]
NOTE.—The proper names belong to localities along the course
of the Wai-oli stream.
[Footnote 286: _Molokama_ (more often given as _Na Molo-kama_).
The name applied to a succession of falls made by the stream
far up in the mountains. The author has here used a
versifier’s privilege, compressing this long word into
somewhat less refractory shape.]
[Footnote 287: _Kupa-koili_. A grove of mountain-apples, _ohia
ai_, that stand on the bank of the stream not far from the
public road.]
[Footnote 288: _Manu’a-kepa_. A sandy, grass-covered meadow on
the opposite side of the river from Kupa-koili.]
[Footnote 289: _Maha-moku_. A sandy beach near the mouth of the
river, on the same bank as Manu’a-kepa.]
[Footnote 290: _Mono-lau_. That part of the bay into which the
river flows, that is used as an anchorage for vessels.]
[Footnote 291: _Lani-huli_. The side of the valley Kilauea of
Wai-oli toward which the river makes a bend before it enters
the ocean.]
[Footnote 292: _Kau-ka-opua_. Originally a phrase meaning “the
cloud-omen hangs,” has come to be used as the proper name of
a place. It is an instance of a form of personification often
employed by the Hawaiians, in which words having a specific
meaning—such, for instance, as our “jack-in-the-box”—have
come to be used as a noun for the sake of the meaning wrapped
up in the etymology. This figure of speech is, no doubt,
common to all languages, markedly so in the Hawaiian. It may
be further illustrated by the Hebrew name Ichabod—“his glory
has departed.”]