Part 3

[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE III HÁLA-PÉPE (DRACÆNA AUREA) ]

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

[Footnote 29: _Haumea_. The ancient goddess, or ancestor, the sixth in line of descent from Wakea.]

[Footnote 30: _Kahuna._ A sorcerer; with a qualifying adjective it meant a skilled craftsman; _Kahuna-kalai-wa’a_ was a canoe-builder; _kahuna lapaau_ was a medicine-man, a doctor, etc.]

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

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

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

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

The name of Hiiaka, the sister of Pele, is one often mentioned in the prayers of the hula. [Page 26]

IV.—SUPPORT AND ORGANIZATION OF THE HULA

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RULES OF CONDUCT AND TABUS

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Page 31]

V—CEREMONIES OF GRADUATION; DÉBUT OF A HULA DANCER

CEREMONIES OF GRADUATION

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

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

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

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

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

_Pule Hoonoa_

Pupu we’uwe’u e, Laka e! O kona we’uwe’u ke ku nei. [Page 32] Kaumaha a’e la ia Laka. O Laka ke akua pule ikaika. 5 Ua ku ka maile a Laka a imua; Ua lu ka hua[32] o ka maile. Noa, noa ia’u, ia Kahaula— Papalua noa. Noa, a ua noa. 10 Eli-eli kapu! eli-eli noa! Kapu oukou, ke akua! Noa makou, ke kanaka´.

[Translation.]

_Tabu-lifting Prayer_

Oh wildwood bouquet, oh Laka! Hers are the growths that stand here. Suppliants we to Laka. The prayer to Laka has power; 5 The maile of Laka stands to the fore. The maile vine casts now its seeds. Freedom, there’s freedom to me, Kahaula— A freedom twofold. 10 Freedom, aye freedom! A tabu profound, a freedom complete. Ye gods are still tabu; We mortals are free.

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

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

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

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

[Illustration: BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 38 PLATE IV MAILE (ALYXIA MYRTILLIFOLIA) WREATH]

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

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

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

_Mele Kuau_

Noho ana Laka I ka ulu wehi-wehi, Ku ana iluna i Mo’o-helaia,[33] Ohia-Ku[34] ouna o Mauna-loa.[35] Aloha mai Kaulana-ula[36] ia’u. 5 Eia ka ula la, he ula leo,[37] He uku, he modai, he kanaenae, He alana na’u ia oe. E Laka e, e maliu mai; E maliu mai oe, i pono au, 10 A pono au, a pono kaua.

[Footnote 33: _Mo’o-helaia_. A female deity, a _kupua_, who at death became one of the divinities, _au-makua_, of the hula. Her name was conferred on the place claimed as her residence, on Mauna-loa, island of Molokai.]

[Footnote 34: _Ohia-Ku_. Full name _ohia-ku-makua_; a variety of the ohìa, or lehua (pl. XIII), whose wood was used in making temple gods. A rough stem of this tree stood on each side near the _hala-pepe_. (See pl. III, also pp. 19–20.)]

[Footnote 35: _Mauna-loa_. Said to be the mountain of that name on Molokai, not that on Hawaii.]

[Footnote 36: _Kaulana-ula_. Full form _Kaulana-a-ula_; the name of a deity belonging to the order, _papa_, of the hula. Its meaning is explained in the expression _ula leo_, in the next line.]

[Footnote 37: _Ula leo_. A singing or trilling sound, a _tinnitus aurium_, a sign that the deity Kaulanaula was making some communication to the one who heard it.

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

[Page 34]

[Translation.]