Part 17
The music of this song is an admirable and faithful interpretation of the old Hawaiian manner of cantillation, having received at the hands of the foreign musician only so much trimming as was necessary to idealize it and make it reducible to our system of notation.
EXPLANATORY NOTE
_Hoaeae_.—This term calls for a quiet, sentimental style of recitation, in which the fluctuating trill i’i, if it occurs at all, is not made prominent. It is contrasted with the _olioli_, in which the style is warmer and the fluctuations of the i’i are carried to the extreme.
Thus far we have been considering the traditional indigenous music of the land. To come now to that which has been and is being produced in Hawaii by Hawaiians to-day, under influences from abroad, it will not be possible to mistake the presence in it of two strains: The foreign, showing its hand in the lopping away of much redundant foliage, has brought it largely within the compass of scientific and technical expression; the native element reveals itself, now [Page 164] in plaintive reminiscence and now in a riotous _bonhommie_, a rollicking love of the sensuous, and in a style of delivery and vocal technique which demands a voluptuous throatiness, and which must be heard to be appreciated.
The foreign influence has repressed and well-nigh driven from the field the monotonous fluctuations of the i’i, has lifted the starveling melodies of Hawaii out of the old ruts and enriched them with new notes, thus giving them a spring and _élan_ that appeal alike to the cultivated ear and to the popular taste of the day. It has, moreover, tapped the springs of folk-song that lay hidden in the Hawaiian nature. This same influence has also caused to germinate a Hawaiian appreciation of harmony and has endowed its music with new chords, the tonic and dominant, as well as with those of the subdominant and various minor chords.
The persistence of the Hawaiian quality is, however, most apparent in the language and imagery of the song-poetry. This will be seen in the text of the various mele and oli now to be given. Every musician will also note for himself the peculiar intervals and shadings of these melodies as well as the odd effects produced by rhythmic syncopation.
The songs must speak for themselves. The first song to be given, though dating from no longer ago than about the sixth decade of the last century, has already scattered its wind-borne seed and reproduced its kind in many variants, after the manner of other folklore. This love-lyric represents a type, very popular in Hawaii, that has continued to grow more and more personal and subjective in contrast with the objective epic style of the earliest Hawaiian mele.
IX—Song, Poli Anuanu Arranged by Mrs. YARNDLEY _Andante cantabile_ [Music]
[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE XVII HAWAIIAN MUSICIAN PLAYING ON THE UKU-LELE (By permission of Hubert Voss)]
[Page 165]
_Poli Anuanu_
1. Aloha wale oe, Poli anuanu; Máeéle au I ke ánu, e.
2. He anu e ka ua, He anu e ka wai, Li’a kuu ili I ke anu, e.
3. Ina paha, Ooe a owau Ka i pu-kukú’i, I ke anu, e.
He who would translate this love-lyric for the ear as well as for the mind finds himself handicapped by the limitations of our English speech—its scant supply of those orotund vowel sounds which flow forth with their full freight of breath in such words as _a-ló-ha_, _pó-li_, and _á-nu-á-nu_. These vocables belong to the very genius of the Hawaiian tongue.
[Translation.]
_Cold Breast_
1. Love fain compels to greet thee, Breast so cold, so cold. Chilled, benumbed am I With the pinching cold.
2. How bitter cold the rainfall, Bitter cold the stream, Body all a-shiver, From the pinching cold.
3. Pray, what think you? What if you and I Should our arms enfold, Just to keep off the cold?
The song next given, dating from a period only a few years subsequent, is of the same class and general character as Poli Anuanu. Both words and music are peculiarly Hawaiian, though one may easily detect the foreign influence that presided over the shaping of the melody. [Page 166]
X—Song, Hua-hua’i Arranged by Mrs. YARNDLEY Moderato [Music:]
_Huahua’i_
He aloha wau ia oe, I kau hana, hana pono; La’i ai ke kaunu me ia la, Hoapaapa i ke kino.
_Chorus_:
Kaua i ka huahua’i, E uhene la’i pili koolua, Pu-kuku’i aku i ke koekoe, Anu lipo i ka palai.
[Page 167]
[Translation.]
_Outburst_
O my love goes out to thee, For thy goodness and thy kindness. Fancy kindles at that other, Stirs, with her arts, my blood.
_Chorus:_
You and I, then, for an outburst! Sing the joy of love’s encounter, Join arms against the invading damp, Deep chill of embowering ferns.
The following is given, not for its poetical value and significance, but rather as an example of a song which the trained Hawaiian singer delights to roll out with an unctuous gusto that bids defiance to all description:
XI—Song, Ka Mawae By permission of the Hawaiian News Co., of Honolulu Arranged by H. BERGER [Music:]
NOTE.—The music to which this hula song is set was produced by a member of the Hawaiian Band, Mr. Solomon A. Hiram, and arranged by Capt. H. Berger, to whom the author is indebted for permission to use it.
_Ka Mawae_
A e ho’i ke aloha i ka mawae, I ke Kawelu-holu, Papi’ohúli.[325]
Huli mai kou alo, ua anu wau, Ua pulu i ka ua, malule o-luna.
[Footnote 325: _Papi’o-huli_. A slope in the western valley-side at the head of Nuuanu, where the tall grass (_kawelu_) waves (_holu_) in the wind.]
[Page 168]
[Translation.]
_The Refuge_
Return, O love, to the refuge, The wind-tossed covert of Papi’ohúli.
Face now to my face; I’m smitten with cold, Soaked with the rain and benumbed.
XII—Like no a Like By permission of the Hawaiian News Co. (Ltd.) Arranged by H. BERGER [Music]
_Like no a Like_
1. Ua like no a like Me ka ua kani-lehua; Me he la e i mai ana, Aia ilaila ke aloha.
_Chorus_:
Ooe no ka’u i upu ai, Ku’u lei hiki ahiahi, O ke kani o na manu, I na hora o ke aumoe.
2. Maanei mai kaua, He welina pa’a i ka piko, A nau no wau i imi mai, A loaa i ke aheahe a ka makani.
_Chorus_.
[Page 169]
[Translation.]
_Resemblance_
1. When the rain drums loud on the leaf, It makes me think of my love; It whispers into my ear, Your love, your love—she is near.
_Chorus_:
Thou art the end of my longing, The crown of evening’s delight, When I hear the cock blithe crowing, In the middle watch of the night.
2. This way is the path for thee and me, A welcome warm at the end. I waited long for thy coming, And found thee in waft of the breeze.
_Chorus_.
XIII—Song, Pili Aoao By permission of the Hawaiian News Co. (Ltd.) Arranged by H. BERGER [Music]
NOTE.—The composer of the music and the author of the mele was a Hawaiian named John Meha, of the Hawaiian Band, who died some ten years ago, at the age of 40 years.
1. O ka ponaha iho a ke ao. Ka pipi’o malie maluna, Ike oe i ka hana, mikiala, Nowelo i ka pili aoao.
_Chorus_:
Maikai ke aloha a ka ipo— Hana mao ole i ka puuwai, Houhou liilii i ka poli— Nowelo i ka pili aoao.
2. A mau ka pili’na olu pono; Huli a’e, hooheno malie, Hanu liilii nahenahe, Nowelo i ka pili aoao.
_Chorus_.
[Page 170]
The author of the mele was a Hawaiian named John Meha, who died some years ago. He was for many years a member of the Hawaiian Band and set the words to the music given below, which has since been arranged by Captain Berger.
[Translation.]
_Side by Side_
1. Outspreads now the dawn, Arching itself on high— But look! a wondrous thing, A thrill at touch of the side.
_Chorus_:
Most dear to the soul is a love-touch; Its pulse stirs ever the heart And gently throbs in the breast— At thrill from the touch of the side.
2. In time awakes a new charm As you turn and gently caress; Short comes, the breath—at The thrill from the touch of the side.
_Chorus_.
The fragments of Hawaiian music that have drifted down to us no doubt remain true to the ancient type, however much they may have changed in quality. They show the characteristics that stamp all primitive music—plaintiveness to the degree almost of sadness, monotony, lack of acquaintance with the full range of intervals that make up our diatonic scale, and therefore a measurable absence of that ear-charm we call melody. These are among its deficiencies.
If, on the other hand, we set down the positive qualities by the possession of which it makes good its claim to be classed as music, we shall find that it has a firm hold on rhythm. This is indeed one of the special excellencies of Hawaiian music. Added to this, we find that it makes a limited use of such-intervals as the third, fifth, fourth, and at the same time resorts extravagantly, as if in compensation, to a fine tone-carving that divides up the tone-interval into fractions so much less than the semitone that our ears are almost indifferent to them, and are at first inclined to deny their existence. This minute division of the tone, or step, and neglect at the same time of the broader harmonic intervals, reminds one of work in which the artist charges his picture with unimportant detail, while failing in attention to the strong outlines. Among its merits we must not forget to mention a certain quality of tone-color which inheres in the Hawaiian tongue and which greatly tends to the enhancement of Hawaiian music, especially when thrown into rhythmic forms.
The first thing, then, to repeat, that will strike the auditor on listening to this primitive music will be its lack of melody. The voice goes wavering and lilting along like a canoe on a rippling ocean.
[Illustration: PLATE XVIII HALA FRUIT BUNCH AND DRUPE WITH A “LEI” (PANDANUS ODORATISSIMUS)]
[Page 171] Then, of a sudden, it swells upward, as if lifted by some wave of emotion; and there for a time it travels with the same fluctuating movement, soon descending to its old monotone, until again moved to rise on the breast of some fresh impulse. The intervals sounded may be, as already said, a third, or a fifth, or a fourth; but the whole movement leads nowhere; it is an unfinished sentence. Yet, in spite of all these drawbacks and of this childish immaturity, the amateur and enthusiast finds himself charmed and held as if in the clutch of some Old-World spell, and this at what others will call the dreary and monotonous intoning of the savage.
In matters that concern the emotions it is rarely possible to trace with certainty the lines that lead up from effect to cause. Such is the nature of art. If we would touch the cause which lends attractiveness to Hawaiian music, we must look elsewhere than to melody. In the belief of the author the two elements that conspire for this end are rhythm and tone-color, which comes of a delicate feeling for vowel-values.
The hall-mark of Hawaiian music is rhythm, for the Hawaiians belong to that class of people who can not move hand or foot or perform any action except they do it rhythmically. Not alone in poetry and music and the dance do we find this recurring accent of pleasure, but in every action of life it seems to enter as a timekeeper and regulator, whether it be the movement of a fingerful of poi to the mouth or the swing of a _kahili_ through the incense-laden air at the burial of a chief.
The typical Hawaiian rhythm is a measure of four beats, varied at times by a 2–rhythm, or changed by syncopation into a 3–rhythm.
These people have an emotional susceptibility and a sympathy with environment that belongs to the artistic temperament; but their feelings, though easily stirred, are not persistent and ideally centered; they readily wander away from any example or pattern. In this way may be explained their inclination to lapse from their own standard of rhythm into inexplicable syncopations.
As an instance of sympathy with environment, an experience with a hula dancer may be mentioned. Wishing to observe the movement of the dance in time with the singing of the mele, the author asked him to perform the two at one time. He made the attempt, but failed. At length, bethinking himself, he drew off his coat and bound it about his loins after the fashion of a pa-ú, such as is worn by hula dancers. He at once caught inspiration, and was thus enabled to perform the double rôle of dancer and singer.
It has been often remarked by musical teachers who have had experience with these islanders that as singers they are prone to flat the tone and to drag the time, yet under the stimulus of emotion they show the ability to acquit themselves in these respects with great credit. The native [Page 172] inertia of their being demands the spur of excitement to keep them up to the mark. While human nature everywhere shares in this weakness, the tendency seems to be greater in the Hawaiian than in some other races of no higher intellectual and esthetic advancement.
Another quality of the Hawaiian character which reenforces this tendency is their spirit of communal sympathy. That is but another way of saying that they need the stimulus of the crowd, as well as of the occasion, even to make them keep step to the rhythm of their own music. In all of these points they are but an epitome of humanity.
Before closing this special subject, the treatment of which has grown to an unexpected length, the author feels constrained to add one more illustration of Hawaii’s musical productions. The Hawaiian national hymn on its poetical side may be called the last appeal of royalty to the nation’s feeling of race-pride. The music, though by a foreigner, is well suited to the words and is colored by the environment in which the composer has spent the best years of his life. The whole production seems well fitted to serve as the clarion of a people that need every help which art and imagination can offer.
XIV—Hawaii Ponoí Words by King KALAKAUA Composed by H. BERGER [Music:]
[Illustration: PU (TRITON TRITONIS) BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE XIX]
[Page 173]
[Page 174]
_HAWAI’I PONOI_
1. Hawai’i ponoi, Nana i kou Moi, Ka lani Ali’i, Ke Ali’i.
_Refrain_:
Makua lani, e, Kamehameha, e, Na kaua e pale, Me ka ihe.
2. Hawai’i ponoi, Nana i na ’li’i, Na pua muli kou, Na poki’i.
_Refrain_:
3. Hawai’i ponoi E ka lahui, e, O kau hana nui E ui, e.
_Refrain_.
[Page 175]
[Translation.]
_Hawaii Ponoi_
1. Hawaii’s very own, Look to your sovran Lord, Your chief that’s heaven-born, Who is your King.
_Refrain_:
Protector, heaven-sent, Kamehameha great, To vanquish every foe, With conquering spear.
2. Men of Hawaii’s land, Look to your native chiefs, Your sole surviving lords, The nation’s pride.
_Refrain_:
3. Men of Hawaiian stock, My nation ever dear, With loins begirt for work, Strive with your might.
_Refrain_. [Page 176]
XXII.—GESTURE
Gesture is a voiceless speech, a short-hand dramatic picture. The Hawaiians were adepts in this sort of art. Hand and foot, face and eye, and those convolutions of gray matter which are linked to the organs of speech, all worked in such harmony that, when the man spoke, he spoke not alone with his vocal organs, but all over, from head to foot, every part adding its emphasis to the utterance. Von Moltke could be reticent in six languages; the Hawaiian found it impossible to be reticent in one.
The hands of the hula dancer are ever going out in gesture, her body swaying and pivoting itself in attitudes of expression. Her whole physique is a living and moving picture of feeling, sentiment, and passion. If the range of thought is not always deep or high, it is not the fault of her art, but the limitations of her original endowment, limitations of hereditary environment, the universal limitations imposed on the translation from spirit into matter.
The art of gesture was one of the most important branches taught by the kumu. When the hula expert, the _olohe_, who has entered the halau as a visitor, utters the prayer (p. 47), “O Laka, give grace to the feet of Pohaku, and to her bracelets and anklets; give comeliness to the figure and skirt of Luukia. To each one give gesture and voice. O Laka, make beautiful the _lei_; inspire the dancers to stand before the assembly,” his meaning was clear and unmistakable, and showed his high valuation of this method of expression. We are not, however, to suppose that the kumu-hula, whatever his artistic attainments, followed any set of formulated doctrines in his teaching. His science was implicit, unformulated, still enfolded in the silence of unconsciousness, wrapped like a babe in its mother’s womb. To apply a scientific name to his method, it might be called inductive, for he led his pupils along the plain road of practical illustration, adding example to example, without the confusing aid of preliminary rule or abstract proposition, until his pupils had traveled over the whole ground covered by his own experience.
Each teacher went according to the light that was in him, not forgetting the instructions of his own kumu, but using them as a starting point, a basis on which to build as best he knew. There were no books, no manuals of instruction, to pass from hand to hand and thus secure uniformity of instruction. Then, again, it was a long journey from Hawaii to Kauai, or [Page 177] even from one island to another. The different islands, as a rule, were not harnessed to one another under the same political yoke; even districts of the same island were not unfrequently under the independent sway of warring chiefs; so that for long periods the separation, even the isolation, in matters of dramatic art and practice was as complete as in politics.
The method pursued by the kumu may be summarized as follows: Having labored to fix the song, the mele or oli, in the minds of his pupils, the _haumana_, he appointed some one to recite the words of the piece, while the class, standing with close attention to the motions of the kumu and with ears open at the same time to the words of the leader, were required to repeat the kumu’s gestures in pantomime until he judged them to have arrived at a sufficient degree of perfection. That done, the class took up the double task of recitation joined to that of gesture. In his attempt to translate his concepts into physical signs the Hawaiian was favored not only by his vivid power of imagination, but by his implicit philosophy, for the Hawaiian looked at things from a physical plane—a safe ground to stand upon—albeit he had glimpses at times far into the depths of ether. When he talked about spirit, he still had in mind a form of matter. A god was to him but an amplified human being.
It is not the purpose to attempt a scientific classification of gesture as displayed in the halau. The most that can be done will be to give a few familiar generic illustrations which are typical and representative of a large class.
The _pali_, the precipice, stands for any difficulty or obstacle of magnitude. The Hawaiian represents this in his dramatic, pictorial manner with the hand vertically posed on the outstretched arm, the palm of the hand looking away. If it is desired to represent this wall of obstacle as being surmounted, the hand is pushed forward, and at the same time somewhat inclined, perhaps, from its rigid perpendicularity, the action being accompanied by a series of slight lifting or waving movements as of climbing.
Another way of dramatically picturing this same concept, that of the pali as a wall of obstacle, is by holding the forearm and hand vertically posed with the palmar aspect facing the speaker. This method of expression, while perhaps bolder and more graphic than that before mentioned, seems more purely oratorical and less graceful, less subtly pictorial and elegant than the one previously described, and therefore less adapted to the hula. For it must be borne in mind that the hula demanded the subordination of strength to grace and elegance. We may at the same time be sure that the halau showed individuality in its choice of methods, that it varied its technique and manner of expression at different times and places, according to the different conception of one or another kumu. [Page 178] Progression, as in walking or traveling, is represented by means of a forward undulatory movement of the outstretched arm and hand, palm downward, in a horizontal plane. This gesture is rhythmic and beautifully pictorial. If the other hand also is made a partner in the gesture, the significance would seem to be extended, making it include, perhaps, a larger number in the traveling company. The mere extension of the arm, the back-hand advanced, would serve the purpose of indicating removal, travel, but in a manner less gracious and caressing.
To represent an open level space, as of a sand-beach or of the earth-plain, the Hawaiian very naturally extended his arms and open hands—palms downward, of course—the degree of his reaching effort being in a sense a measure of the scope intended.
To represent the act of covering or protecting oneself with clothing, the Hawaiian placed the hollow of each hand over the opposite shoulder with a sort of hugging action. But here, again, one can lay down no hard and fast rule. There was differentiation; the pictorial action might well vary according to the actor’s conception of the three or more generic forms that constituted the varieties of Hawaiian dress, which were the _málo_ of the man, the _pa-ú_ of the woman, and the decent _kiheí_, a toga-like robe, which, like the blanket of the North American Indian, was common to both sexes. Still another gesture, a sweeping of the hands from the shoulder down toward the ground, would be used to indicate that costly feather robe, the _ahuula_, which was the regalia and prerogative of kings and chiefs.
The Hawaiian places his hands, palms up, edge to edge, so that the little finger of one hand touches its fellow of the other hand. By this action he means union or similarity. He turns one palm down, so that the little finger and thumb of opposite hands touch each other. The significance of the action is now wholly reversed; he now means disunion, contrariety.
To indicate death, the death of a person, the finger-tips, placed in apposition, are drawn away from each other with a sweeping gesture and at the same time lowered till the palms face the ground. In this case also we find diversity. One old man, well acquainted with hula matters, being asked to signify in pantomimic fashion “the king is sick,” went through the following motions: He first pointed upward, to indicate the heaven-born one, the king; then he brought his hands to his body and threw his face into a painful grimace. To indicate the death of the king he threw his hands upward toward the sky, as if to signify a removal by flight. He admitted the accuracy of the gesture, previously described, in which the hands are moved toward the ground.