PART IV · Part 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.”]

[Footnote 293: _A kau ka La, i na pali_. When stands the sun o’er the pali, evening or late in the afternoon. On this part of Kauai the sun sets behind the mountains.]

[Footnote 294: _Wai-a-ma’o_. The land-breeze, which sometimes springs up at night.]

[Footnote 295: _Wai-pá_. A spot on the bank of the stream where grew a pandanus tree, _hala_, styled _Ka-hala-mapu-ana_, the hala-breathing-out-its-fragrance.]

[Translation.]

_Song_

Up to the streams in the wildwood, Where rush the falls Molo-kama, While the rain sweeps past Mala-hoa, I had a passion to visit 5 The forest of bloom at Koili, [Page 134] To give love-caress to Manu’a, And her neighbor Maha-moku, And see the waters flash at Mono-lau; My hand would quiet their rage, 10 Would sidle and touch Lani-huli. Grant me but this one entreaty, We’ll meet ’neath the omens above. Two flowers there are that bloom In your garden of being; 15 Entwine them into a garland, Fit emblem and crown of our love. And what the hour of your coming? When stands the Sun o’er the pali, When turns the breeze of the land, 20 To breathe the perfume of hala, While the currents swirl at Wai-pá.

This mele is the language of passion, a song in which the lover frankly pours into the ear of his inamorata the story of his love up to the time of his last enthrallment. Verses 11, 12, and 17 are the language of the woman. The scene is laid in the rainy valley of Hanalei, Kauai, a broad and deep basin, to the finishing of which the elements have contributed their share. The rush and roar of the waters that unite to form the river Wai-oli, from their wild tumbling in the falls of Molo-kama till they pass the river’s mouth and mingle with the flashing waves of the ocean at Mono-lau, _Anapa i ke kai o Mono-lau_ (verse 8), are emblematic of the man’s passion and his quest for satisfaction.

[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE XV WOMAN PLAYING ON THE NOSE-FLUTE (OHE-HANO-IHU)]

[Page 135]

XX.—THE HULA OHE

The action of the hula _ohe_ had some resemblance to one of the figures of the Virginia reel. The dancers, ranged in two parallel rows, moved forward with an accompaniment of gestures until the head of each row had reached the limit in that direction, and then, turning outward to right and left, countermarched in the same manner to the point of starting, and so continued to do. They kept step and timed their gestures and movements to the music of the bamboo nose-flute, the _ohe_.

In a performance of this hula witnessed by an informant the chorus of dancers was composed entirely of girls, while the kumu operated the nose-flute and at the same time led the cantillation of the mele. This seemed an extraordinary statement, and the author challenged the possibility of a person blowing with the nose into a flute and at the same time uttering words with the mouth. The Hawaiian asserted, nevertheless, that, the leader of the hula, the kumu, did accomplish these two functions; yet his answer did not remove doubt that they were accomplished jointly and at the same time. The author is inclined to think that the kumu performed the two actions alternately.

The musical range of the nose-flute was very limited; it had but two or, at the most, three stops. The player with his left hand held the flute to the nostril, at the same time applying a finger of the same hand to keep the other nostril closed. With the fingers of his right hand he operated the stops (pl. xv).

_Mele_

E pi’ i ka nahele, E ike ia Ka-wai-kini,[296] Nana ia Pihaua-ka-lani,[297] [Page 136] I kela manu hulu ma’e-ma’e,[298] 5 Noho pu me Ka-hale-lehua, Punahele ia Kaua-kahi-alii.[299] E Kaili,[300] e Kaili, e! E Kaili, lau o ke koa, E Kaili, lau o ke koa, 10 Moopuna a Hooipo-i-ka-Malanai,[301] Hiwa-hiwa a ka Lehua-wehe![302] Aia ka nani i Wai-ehu, I ka wai kaili puuwai o ka makemake. Makemake au i ke kalukalu o Kewá,[303] 15 E he’e ana i ka nalu o Maka-iwa. He iwa-iwa oe na ke aloha, I Wai-lua nui hoano. Ano-ano ka hale, aohe kanaka, Ua la’i oe no ke one o Ali-ó. 20 Aia ka ipo i ka nahele.

[Footnote 296: _Ka-wai-kini_. The name of a rocky bluff that stands on the side of Mount Wai-ale-ale, looking to Wailua. It as said to divide the flow from the great morass, the natural reservoir formed by the hollow at the top of the mountain, turning a part of it in the direction of Wai-niha, a valley not far from Hanalei, which otherwise would, it is said by Hawaiians, go to swell the stream that forms the Wailua river. This rock, in the old times, was regarded as a demigod, a _kupua_, and had a lover who resided in Wai-lua, also another who resided in the mountains. The words in the first two or three verses may be taken as if they were the utterance of this Wai-lua lover, saying “I will go up and see my sweetheart Ka-wai-kini.”]

[Footnote 297: _Pihana-ka-lani_. Literally, the fullness of heaven. This was a forest largely of lehua that covered the mountain slope below Ka-wai-kini. It seems as if the purpose of its mention was to represent the beauties and charms of the human body. In this romantic region lived the famous mythological princes—_alii kupua_, the Hawaiians called them—named _Kaua-kahi-alii_ and _Aiwohi-kupua_, with their princess sister _Ka-hale-lehua_. The second name mentioned was the one who married the famous heroine of the romantic story of _Laie-i-ka-wai_.]

[Footnote 298: _Manu hulu ma’ema’e_. An allusion to the great number of plumage birds that were reputed to be found in this place.]

[Footnote 299: _Puna-hele ia Kaua-kahi-alii_. The birds of the region are said to have been on very intimate and friendly terms with Kaua-kahi-alii. (See note _b_, p. 135.)]

[Footnote 300: _Kaili_. The full form is said to be _Ka-ili-lau-o-ke-koa_—Skin-like-the-leaf-of-the-koa. In the text of the mele this name is analyzed into its parts and written as if the phrase at the end were an appellative and not an integral part of the name itself. This was a mythical character of unusual beauty, a person of superhuman power, _kupua_, a mistress of the art of surf-riding, which passion she indulged in the waters about Wai-lua.]

[Footnote 301: _Hooipo-i-ka-Malanai_. A mythical princess of Wailua, the grandmother of Kaili. This oft-quoted phrase, literally meaning to make love in the (gently-blowing) trade-wind, has become almost a stock expression, standing for romantic love, or love-making.]

[Footnote 302: _Lehua-wehe_. The piece of ocean near the mouth of the Wailua river in which Kaili indulged her passion for surf-riding.]

[Footnote 303: _Kalu-kalu o Kewá_. _Kalu-kalu_ may mean a species of soft, smooth grass specially fitted for sliding upon, which flourished on the inclined plain of Kewá, Kauai. One would sit upon a mat, the butt end of a coconut leaf, or a sled, while another dragged it along. The Hawaiian name for this sport is _pahe’e_. _Kalu-kalu_ is also the name applied to “a very thin gauze-like kapa.” (See Andrews’s Hawaiian Dictionary.) If we suppose the poet to have clearly intended the first meaning, the figure does not tally with the following verse, the fifteenth. Verses 14 and 15 would thus be made to read:

I desire the kalu-kalu (grass) of Kewá, That is riding the surf of Maka-iwa.

This is an impossible figure and makes no sense. If, on the other hand, we take another version and conceive that the bard had in mind the gauze-like robe of _kalu-kalu_—using this, of course, as a figure for the person clad in such a robe—the rendering I have given,

I pine for the sylph, robed in gauze, Who rides the surf Maka-iwa,

would not only make a possible, but a poetic, picture. Let the critical reader judge which of these two versions hits closer to common sense and probability.]

[Translation.]

_Song._

Come up to the wildwood, come; Let us visit Wai-kini, And gaze on Pihána-ka-lani, [Page 137] Its birds of plumage so fine; 5 Be comrade to Hale-lehua, Soul-mate to Kau’kahi-alii. O, Kaili, Kaili! Kaili, leaf of the koa, Graceful as leaf of the koa, 10 Granddaughter of goddess, Whose name is the breath of love, Darling of blooming Lehua. My lady rides with the gray foam, On the surge that enthralls the desire. 15 I pine for the sylph robed in gauze, Who rides on the surf Maka-iwa— Aye, cynosure thou of all hearts, In all of sacred Wailua. Forlorn and soul-empty the house; 20 You pleasure on the beach Ali-ó; Your love is up here in the wildwood.

This mele hoipoipo, love-song, like the one previously given, is from Kauai. The proper names that abound in it, whether of places, of persons, or of winds, seem to have been mostly of Kauaian origin, furnished by its topography, its myths and legends. They have, however, become the common property of the whole group through having been interwoven in the national songs that pass current from island to island. [Page 138]

XXI.—THE MUSIC AND MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS OF THE HAWAIIANS

A bird is easier captured than the notes of a song. The _mele_ and _oli_ of Hawaii’s olden time have been preserved for us; but the music to which they were chanted, a less perdurable essence, has mostly exhaled. In the sudden transition from the tabu system to the new order of things that came in with the death of Kamehameha in 1819, the old fashion of song soon found itself antiquated and outdistanced. Its survival, so far as it did survive, was rather as a memorial and remembrance of the past than as a register of the living emotions of the present.

The new music, with its _pa, ko, li_—answering to our do, re, mi[304]—was soon in everybody’s mouth. From the first it was evidently destined to enact a role different from that of the old cantillation; none the less the musical ideas that came in with it, the air of freedom from tabu and priestcraft it breathed, and the diatonic scale, the highway along which it marched to conquest, soon produced a noticeable reaction in all the musical efforts of the people. This new seed, when it had become a vigorous plant, began to push aside the old indigenous stock, to cover it with new growths, and, incredible as it may seem, to inoculate it with its own pollen, thus producing a cross which to-day is accepted in certain quarters as the genuine article of Hawaiian song. Even now, the people of northwestern America are listening with demonstrative interest to songs which they suppose to be those of the old hula, but which in reality have no more connection with that institution than our negro minstrelsy has to do with the dark continent.

[Footnote 304: The early American missionaries to Hawaii named the musical notes of the scale _pa, ko, li, ha, no, la, mi_.]

The one regrettable fact, from a historical point of view, is that a record was not made of indigenous Hawaiian song before this process of substitution and adulteration had begun. It is no easy matter now to obtain the data for definite knowledge of the subject.

While the central purpose of this chapter will be a study of the music native to old Hawaii, and especially of that produced in the halau, Hawaiian music of later times and of the present day can not be entirely neglected; nor will it be without its value for the indirect light it will shed on ancient conditions and on racial characteristics. The reaction that has taken place in Hawaii within historic times in response to the stimulus from abroad can not fail to be of [Page 139] interest in itself.

There is a peculiarity of the Hawaiian speech which can not but have its effect in determining the lyric tone-quality of Hawaiian music; this is the predominance of vowel and labial sounds in the language. The phonics of Hawaiian speech, we must remember, lack the sounds represented by our alphabetic symbols _b, c_ or _s, d, f, g, j, q, x_, and _z_—a poverty for which no richness in vowel sounds can make amends. The Hawaiian speech, therefore, does not call into full play the uppermost vocal cavities to modify and strengthen, or refine, the throat and mouth tones of the speaker and to give reach and emphasis to his utterances. When he strove for dramatic and passional effect, he did not make his voice resound in the topmost cavities of the voice-trumpet, but left it to rumble and mutter low down in the throat-pipe, thus producing a feature that colors Hawaiian musical recitation.

This feature, or mannerism, as it might be called, specially marks Hawaiian music of the bombastic bravura sort in modern times, imparting to it in its strife for emphasis a sensual barbaric quality. It can be described further only as a gurgling throatiness, suggestive at times of ventriloquism, as if the singer were gloating over some wild physical sensation, glutting his appetite of savagery, the meaning of which is almost as foreign to us and as primitive as are the mewing of a cat, the gurgling of an infant, and the snarl of a mother-tiger. At the very opposite pole of development from this throat-talk of the Hawaiian must we reckon the highly-specialized tones of the French speech, in which we find the nasal cavities are called upon to do their full share in modifying the voice-sounds.

The vocal execution of Hawaiian music, like the recitation of much of their poetry, showed a surprising mastery of a certain kind of technique, the peculiarity of which was a sustained and continuous outpouring of the breath to the end of a certain period, when the lungs again drank their fill. This seems to have been an inheritance from the old religious style of prayer-recitation, which required the priest to repeat the whole incantation to its finish with the outpour of one lungful of breath. Satisfactory utterance of those old prayer-songs of the Aryans, the _mantras_, was conditioned likewise on its being a one-breath performance. A logical analogy may be seen between all this and that unwritten law, or superstition, which made it imperative for the heroes and demigods, _kupua_, of Hawaii’s mythologic age to discontinue any unfinished work on the coming of daylight.[305]

[Footnote 305: The author can see no reason for supposing that this prolonged utterance had anything to do with that Hindoo practice belonging to the _yoga_, the exercise of which consists in regulating the breath.] [Page 140] When one listens for the first time to the musical utterance of a Hawaiian poem, it may seem only a monotonous onflow of sounds faintly punctuated by the primary rhythm that belongs to accent, but lacking those milestones of secondary rhythm which set a period to such broader divisions as distinguish rhetorical and musical phrasing. Further attention will correct this impression and show that the Hawaiians paid strict attention not only to the lesser rhythm which deals with the time and accent of the syllable, but also to that more comprehensive form which puts a limit to the verse.

With the Hawaiians musical phrasing was arranged to fit the verse of the mele, not to express a musical idea. The cadencing of a musical phrase in Hawaiian song was marked by a peculiarity all its own. It consisted of a prolonged trilling or fluctuating movement called _i’i_, in which the voice went up and down in a weaving manner, touching the main note that formed the framework of the melody, then springing away from it for some short interval—a half of a step, or even some shorter interval—like an electrified pith-ball, only to return and then spring away again and again until the impulse ceased. This was more extensively employed in the oil proper, the verses of which were longer drawn out, than in the mele such as formed the stock pieces of the hula. These latter were generally divided into shorter verses.

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS

The musical instruments of the Hawaiians included many classes, and their study can not fail to furnish substantial data for any attempt to estimate the musical performances, attainments, and genius of the people.

Of drums, or drumlike instruments of percussion, the Hawaiians had four:

1. The _pahu_, or _pahu-hula_ (pl. x), was a section of hollowed log. Breadfruit and coconut were the woods generally used for this purpose. The tough skin of the shark was the choice for the drumhead, which was held in place and kept tense by tightening cords of coconut fiber, that passed down the side of the cylinder.

The workmanship of the pahu, though rude, was of tasteful design. So far as the author has studied them, each pahu was constructed with a diaphragm placed about two-thirds the distance from the head, obtained by leaving in place a cross section of the log, thus making a closed chamber of the drum-cavity proper, after the fashion of the kettledrum. The lower part of the drum also was hollowed out and carved, as will be seen in the illustration. In the carving of all the specimens examined the artists have shown a notable fondness for a fenestrated design representing a series of arches, [Page 141] after the fashion of a two-storied arcade, the haunch of the superimposed arch resting directly on the crown of that below. In one case the lower arcade was composed of Roman,-while the upper was of Gothic, arches. The grace of the design and the manner of its execution are highly pleasing, and suggest the inquiry, Whence came the opportunity for this intimate study of the arch?

The tone of the pahu was produced by striking its head with the finger-tips, or with the palm of the hand; never with a stick, so far as the writer has been able to learn. Being both heavy and unwieldly, it was allowed to rest upon the ground, and, if used alone, was placed to the front of the operator; if sounded in connection with the instrument next to be mentioned, it stood at his left side.

The pahu, if not the most original, was the most important instrument used in connection with the hula. The drum, with its deep and solemn tones, is an instrument of recognized efficiency in its power to stir the heart to more vigorous pulsations, and in all ages it has been relied upon as a means of inspiring emotions of mystery, awe, terror, sublimity, or martial enthusiasm.

Tradition of the most direct sort ascribes the introduction of the pahu to La’a—generally known as La’a-mai-Kahiki (La’a-from-Kahiki)—a prince who flourished about six centuries ago. He was of a volatile, adventurous disposition, a navigator of some renown, having made the long voyage between Hawaii and the archipelagoes in the southern Pacific—Kahiki—not less than twice in each direction. On his second arrival from the South he brought with him the big drum, the pahu, which he sounded as he skirted the coast quite out to sea, to the wonder and admiration of the natives on the land. La’a, being of an artistic temperament and an ardent patron of the hula, at once gave the divine art of Laka the benefit of this newly imported instrument. He traveled from place to place, instructing the teachers and inspiring them with new ideals. It was he also who introduced into the hula the kaékeéke as an instrument of music.

2. The _pu-niu_ (pl. XVI) was a small drum made from the shell of a coconut. The top part, that containing the eyes, was removed, and the shell having been smoothed and polished, the opening was tightly covered with the skin of some scaleless fish—that of the _kala_ (Acanthurus unicornis) was preferred. A venerable kumu-hula states that it was his practice to use only the skin taken from the right side of the fish, because he found that it produced a finer quality of sound than that of the other side. The Hawaiian mind was very insistent on little matters of this sort—the mint, anise, and cummin of their system. The drumhead was stretched and placed in position while moist and flexible, and was then made fast to a ring-shaped cushion—_poaha_—of fiber or tapa that hugged the base of the shell. [Page 142] The Hawaiians sometimes made use of the clear gum of the _kukui_ tree to aid in fixing the drumhead in place.

When in use the pu-niu was lashed to the right thigh for the convenience of the performer, who played upon it with a thong of braided fibers held in his right hand (fig. 2), his left thus being free to manipulate the big drum that stood on the other side.

Of three pu-niu in the author’s collection, one, when struck, gives off the sound of c̅ below the staff; another that of c̅♯ below the staff, and a third that of c̿♯ in the staff.

While the grand vibrations of the pahu filled the air with their solemn tremor, the lighter and sharper tones of the pu-niu gave a piquancy to the effect, adding a feature which may be likened to the sparkling ripples which the breeze carves in the ocean’s swell.