Unwritten Literature of Hawaii

N >> Nathaniel Bright Emerson >> Unwritten Literature of Hawaii

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The Hawaiians of the present day are so keenly alive to
musical harmony that it is hardly conceivable that their
ancestors two or three generations ago perpetrated discords
in their music. They must either have sung in unison or hit
on "concords such as were not disagreeable to the ear." If
the music heard in the halau to-day in any close degree
resembles that of ancient times--it must be assumed that it
does--no male voice of ordinary range need have found any
difficulty in sounding the notes, nor do they scale so low
that a female voice would not easily reach them.

Granting, then, as we must, the accuracy of Captain King's
statement, the conclusion to which the author of this paper
feels forced is that since the time of the learned doctor's
visit to these shores, more than one hundred and twenty-eight
years ago, the art and practice of singing or cantillating
after the old fashion has declined among the Hawaiians. The
hula of the old times, in spite of all the efforts to
[Page 153] maintain it, is becoming more and more difficult of
procurement every day. Almost none of the singing that one
hears at the so-called hula performances gotten up for the
delectation of sightseers is Hawaiian music of the old sort.
It belongs rather to the second or third rattoon-crop, which,
has sprung up under the influence of foreign stimuli. Take
the published hula songs, such as "_Tomitomi_," "_Wahine
Poupou_" and a dozen others that might be mentioned, to say
nothing about the words--the music is no more related to the
genuine Hawaiian article of the old times than is "ragtime"
to a Gregorian chant.

The bare score of a hula song, stripped of all embellishments
and reduced by the logic of our musical science to the merest
skeleton of notes, certainly makes a poor showing and gives
but a feeble notion of the song itself--its rhythm, its
multitudinous grace-notes, its weird tone-color. The notes
given below offer such a skeletal presentation of a song
which the author heard cantillated by a skilled hula-master.
They were taken down at the author's request by Capt. H.
Berger, conductor of the Royal Hawaiian Band:

IV--Song from the Hula Pa'i-umauma
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]

The same comment may be made on the specimen next to be given
as on the previous one: there is an entire omission of the
trills and flourishes with which the singer garlanded his
scaffolding of song, and which testified of his adhesion to
the fashion of his ancestors, the fashion according to which
songs have been sung, prayers recited, brave deeds celebrated
since the time when Kane and Pele and the other gods dipped
paddle for the first time into Hawaiian waters.
Unfortunately, in this as in the previous piece and as in the
one next to be given, the singer escaped the author before he
was able to catch the words.

V--Song from the Hula Pa-ipu
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]
[Page 154]

Here, again, is a piece of song that to the author's ear
bears much the same resemblance to the original that an oiled
ocean in calm would bear to the same ocean when stirred by a
breeze. The fine dimples which gave the ocean its
diamond-flash have been wiped out.

VI--Song for the Hula Pele
Arranged by H. BERGER
[Music]

Is it our ear that is at fault? Is it not rather our science
of musical notation, in not reproducing the fractions of
steps, the enharmonics that are native to the note-carving
ear of the Chinaman, and that are perhaps essential to the
perfect scoring of an oli or mele as sung by a Hawaiian?

None of the illustrations thus far given have caught that
fluctuating trilling movement of the voice which most
musicians interviewed on the subject declare to be impossible
of representation, while some flout the assertion that it
represents a change of pitch. One is reminded by this of a
remark made by Pietro Mascagni:[309]

[Footnote 309: The Evolution of Music from the Italian
Standpoint, _in_ the Century Library of Music, XVI, 521.]

"The feeling that a people displays in its character, its
habits, its nature, and thus creates an overprivileged type
of music, may be apprehended by a foreign spirit which has
become accustomed to the usages and expressions common from
that particular people. But popular music, [being] void of
any scientific basis, will always remain incomprehensible to
the foreigner who seeks to study it technically."

When we consider that the Chinese find pleasure in musical
performances on instruments that divide the scale into
intervals less than half a step, and that the Arabian musical
scale included quarter-steps, we shall be obliged to admit
that this statement of Mascagni is not merely a fling at our
musical science.

Here are introduced the words and notes of a musical
recitation done after the manner of the hula by a Hawaiian
professional and his wife. Acquaintance with the Hawaiian
language and a feeling for the allusions connoted in the text
of the song would, of course, be a great aid in enabling one
to enter into the spirit of the performance. As these
[Page 155] adjuncts will, be available to only a very few of those who
will read these words, in the beginning are given the words
of the oli with which he prefaced the song, with a
translation of the same, and then the mele which formed the
bulk of the song, also with a translation, together with such
notes and comments as are necessary to bring one into
intellectual and sympathetic relation with the performance,
so far as that is possible under the circumstances. It is
especially necessary to familiarize the imagination with the
language, meaning, and atmosphere of a mele, because the
Hawaiian approached song from the side of the poet and
elocutionist. Further discussion of this point must, however,
be deferred to another division of the subject:

_He Oli_

Halau[310] Hanalei i ka nini a ka ua;
Kumano[311] ke po'o-wai a ka liko;[312]
Naha ka opi-wai[313] a a Wai-aloha;
O ke kahi koe a hiki i Wai-oli.[314]
Ua ike 'a.

[Translation]

_A Song_

Hanalei is a hall for the dance in the pouring rain;
The stream-head is turned from its bed of fresh green;
Broken the dam that pent the water of love--
Naught now to hinder its rush to the vale of delight.
You've seen it.

[Footnote 310: _Halau_. The rainy valley of Hanalei, on Kauai,
is here compared to a halau, a dance-hall, apparently because
the rain-columns seem to draw together and inclose the valley
within walls, while the dark foreshortened vault of heaven
covers it as with a roof.]

[Footnote 311: _Kumano_. A water-source, or, as here, perhaps,
a sort of dam or loose stone wall that was run out into a
stream for the purpose of diverting a portion of it into a
new channel.]

[Footnote 312: _Liko_. A bud; fresh verdure; a word much used
in modern Hawaiian poetry.]

[Footnote 313: _Opiwai_. A watershed. In Hawaii a knife-edged
ridge as narrow as the back of a horse will often decide the
course of a stream, turning its direction from one to the
other side of the island.]

[Footnote 314: _Waioli_ (_wai_, water; _oli_, joyful). The name
given to a part of the valley of Hanalei, also the name of a
river.]

The mele to which the above oli was a prelude is as follows:

_Mele_

Noluna ka hale kai, e ka ma'a-lewa,
Nana ka maka ia Moana-nui-ka-Lehua.
Noi au i ke kai e mali'o.
Ane ku a'e la he lehua ilaila--
5 Hopoe Lehua ki'eki'e.
Maka'u ka Lehua i ke kanaka,
Lilo ilalo e hele ai, ilalo, e.
Keaau iliili nehe; olelo ke kai o Puna
I ka ulu hala la, e, kaiko'o Puna.
10 Ia hoone'ene'e ia pili mai kaua,
E ke hoa, ke waiho e mai la oe;
Eia ka mea ino, he anu, e.
Aohe anu e!
Me he mea la iwaho kaua, e ke hoa,
15 Me he wai la ko kaua ili, e.

[Page 156]

VII--_Oli and Mele from the Hula Ala'a-papa_
_Oli--A prelude_
Arranged by Mrs. YARNDLEY
[Music:]

[Page 157]

[Music: (_4 times r._)]

[Translation]

_Song from the Hula Ala'a-papa_

From mountain-retreat and root-woven ladder
Mine eye looks down on goddess Moana-Lehua.
Then I pray to the Sea, be thou calm;
Would there might stand on thy shore a lehua--
5 Lehua tree tall of Hopoe.
The Lehua is fearful of man,
Leaves him to walk on the ground below,
To walk on the ground far below.
The pebbles at Keaau grind in the surf;
10 The sea at Keaau shouts to Puna's palms,
"Fierce is the sea of Puna."
Move hither, snug close, companion mine;
You lie so aloof over there.
Oh what a bad fellow is Cold!
15 Not cold, do you say?
It's as if we were out in the wold,
Our bodies so clammy and chill, friend.

EXPLANATORY REMARKS

The acute or stress accent is placed over syllables that take
the accent in ordinary speech.

A word or syllable italicized indicates drum-down-beat.
[Page 158]
It will be noticed that the stress-accent and the rhythmic
accent, marked by the down-beat, very frequently do not
coincide. The time marked by the drum-down-beat was strictly
accurate throughout.

The tune was often pitched on some other key than that in
which it is here recorded. This fact was noted when, from
time to tune, it was found necessary to have the singer
repeat certain passages.

The number of measures devoted to the _i'i_, or fluctuation,
which is indicated by the wavering line [Illustration:],
varied from time to time, even when the singer repeated the
same passage. (See remarks on the _i'i_ p. 140.)

Redundancies of speech (interpolations) which are in
disagreement with the present writer's text (pp. 155-156) are
inclosed in brackets. It will be seen that in the fifth verse
he gives the version _Maka'u ke kanaka i ka lehua_ instead of
the one given by the author, which is _Maka'u ka Lehua i ke
kanaka_. Each version has its advocates, and good arguments
are made in favor of each.

On reaching the end of a measure that coincided with the
close of a rhetorical phrase the singer, Kualii, made haste
to snatch, as it were, at the first word or syllable of the
succeeding phrase. This is indicated by the word
"anticipating," or "anticipatory"--written _anticip._--placed
over the syllable or word thus snatched.

It was somewhat puzzling to determine whether the tones which
this man sang were related to each other as five and three of
the major key, or as three and one of the minor key.
Continued and strained attention finally made it seem evident
that it was the major key which he intended, i.e., it was
[Music: f] and [Music: d] in the key of [Music: B-flat],
rather than [Music: f] and [Music: d] in the key of D minor.

ELOCUTION AND RHYTHMIC ACCENT IN HAWAIIAN SONG

In their ordinary speech the Hawaiians were good
elocutionists--none better. Did they adhere to this same
system of accentuation in their poetry, or did they punctuate
their phrases and words according to the notions of the
song-maker and the conceived exigencies of poetical
composition? After hearing and studying this recitation of
Kualii the author is compelled to say that he does depart in
a great measure from the accent of common speech and charge
his words with intonations and stresses peculiar to the mele.
What artificial influence has come in to produce this
result? Is it from some demand of poetic or of musical
rhythm? Which? It was observed that he substituted the soft
sound of _t_ for the stronger sound of _k_, "because," as he
explained, "the sound of the _t_ is lighter." Thus he said
_te tanata_ instead of _ke kanaka_, the man. The Hawaiian ear
has always a delicate feeling for tone-color.
[Page 159]
In all our discussions and conclusions we must bear in mind
that the Hawaiian did not approach song merely for its own
sake; the song did not sing of itself. First in order came
the poem, then the rhythm of song keeping time to the rhythm
of the poetry. The Hawaiian sang not from a mere bubbling up
of indefinable emotion, but because he had something to say
for which he could find no other adequate form of expression.
The Hawaiian boy, as he walks the woods, never whistles to
keep his courage up. When he paces the dim aisles of
Kaliuwa'a, he sets up an altar and heaps on it a sacrifice of
fruit and flowers and green leaves, but he keeps as silent as
a mouse.

During his performance Kualii cantillated his song while
handling a round wooden tray in place of a drum; his wife
meanwhile performed the dance. This she did very gracefully
and in perfect time. In marking the accent the left foot was,
if anything, the favorite, yet each foot in general took two
measures; that is, the left marked the down-beat in measures
1 and 2, 5 and 6, and so on, while the right, in turn, marked
the rhythmic accent that comes with the down-beat in measures
3 and 4, 7 and 8, and so on. During the four steps taken by
the left foot, covering the time of two measures, the body
was gracefully poised on the other foot. Then a shift was
made, the position was reversed, and during two measures the
emphasis came on the right foot.

The motions of the hands, arms, and of the whole body,
including the pelvis--which has its own peculiar orbital and
sidelong swing--were in perfect sympathy one part with
another. The movements were so fascinating that one was at
first almost hypnotized and disqualified for criticism and
analytic judgment. Not to derogate from the propriety and
modesty of the woman's motions, under the influence of her
Delsartian grace one gained new appreciation of "the charm of
woven paces and of waving hands."

Throughout the whole performance of Kualii and his wife
Abi-gaila it was noticed that, while he was the reciter, she
took the part of the olapa (see p. 28) and performed the
dance; but to this role she added that of prompter, repeating
to him in advance the words of the next verse, which he then
took up. Her verbal memory, it was evident, was superior to
his.

Experience with Kualii and his partner, as well as with
others, emphasizes the fact that one of the great
difficulties encountered in the attempt to write out the
slender thread of music (_leo_) of a Hawaiian mele and fit to
it the words as uttered by the singer arises from the
constant interweaving of meaningless vowel sounds. This,
which the Hawaiians call _i'i_, is a phenomenon comparable to
the weaving of a vine about a framework, or to the
[Page 160] pen-flourishes that illuminate old German text. It consists
of the repetition of a vowel sound--generally _i_ (=_ee_) or
_e_ (=_a_, as in fate), or a rapid interchange of these two.
To the ear of the author the pitch varies through an interval
somewhat less than a half-step. Exactly what is the interval
he can not say. The musicians to whom appeal for aid in
determining this point has been made have either dismissed it
for the most part as a matter of little or no consequence or
have claimed the seeming variation in pitch was due simply to
a changeful stress of voice or of accent. But the author can
not admit that the report of his senses is here mistaken.

A further embarrassment comes from the fact that this
tone-embroidery found in the i'i is not a fixed quantity. It
varies seemingly with the mood of the singer, so that not
unfrequently, when one asks for the repetition of a phrase,
it will, quite likely, be given with a somewhat different
wording, calling for a readjustment of the rhythm on the part
of the musician who is recording the score. But it must be
acknowledged that the singer sticks to his rhythm, which, so
far as observed, is in common time.

In justice to the Hawaiian singer who performs the
accommodating task just mentioned it must be said that, under
the circumstances in which he is placed, it is no wonder that
at times he departs from the prearranged formula of song. His
is the difficult task of pitching his voice and maintaining
the same rhythm and tempo unaided by instrumental
accompaniment or the stimulating movements of the dance. Let
any stage-singer make the attempt to perform an aria, or even
a simple recitative, off the stage, and without the
support--real or imaginary--afforded by the wonted orchestral
accompaniment as well as the customary stage-surroundings,
and he will be apt to find himself embarrassed. The very fact
of being compelled to repeat is of itself alone enough to
disconcert almost anyone. The men and women who to-day
attempt the forlorn task of reproducing for us a hula mele or
an oli under what are to them entirely unsympathetic and
novel surroundings are, as a rule, past the prime of life,
and not unfrequently acknowledge themselves to be failing in
memory.

After making all of these allowances we must, it would seem,
make still another allowance, which regards the intrinsic
nature and purpose of Hawaiian song. It was not intended, nor
was it possible under the circumstances of the case, that a
Hawaiian song should be sung to an unvarying tempo or to the
same key; and even in the words or sounds that make up its
fringework a certain range of individual choice was allowed
or even expected of the singer. This privilege of exercising
individuality might even extend to the solid framework of the
mele or oli and not merely to the filigree, the i'i, that
enwreathed it.
[Page 161]
It would follow from this, if the author is correct, that the
musical critic of to-day must be content to generalize
somewhat and must not be put out if the key is changed on
repetition and if tempo and rhythm depart at times from their
standard gait. It is questionable if even the experts in the
palmy days of the hula attained such a degree of skill as to
be faultless and logical in these matters.

It has been said that modern music has molded and developed
itself under the influence of three causes, (1) a
comprehension of the nature of music itself, (2) a feeling or
inspiration, and (3) the influence of poetry. Guided by this
generalization, it may be said that Hawaiian poetry was the
nurse and pedagogue of that stammering infant, Hawaiian
music; that the words of the mele came before its rhythmic
utterance in song; and that the first singers were the
priests and the eulogists. Hawaiian poetry is far ahead of
Hawaiian song in the power to move the feelings. A few words
suffice the poet with which to set the picture before one's
eyes, and one picture quickly follows another; whereas the
musical attachment remains weak and colorless, reminding one
of the nursery pictures, in which a few skeletal lines
represent the human frame.

Let us now for refreshment and in continued pursuit of our
subject listen to a song in the language and spirit of
old-time Hawaii, composed, however, in the middle of the
nineteenth century. It is given as arranged by Miss Lillian
Byington, who took it down as she heard it sung by an old
Hawaiian woman in the train of Queen Liliuokalani, and as the
author has since heard it sung by Miss Byington's pupils of
the Kamehameha School for Girls. The song has been slightly
idealized, perhaps, by trimming away some of the superfluous
i'i, but not more than is necessary to make it highly
acceptable to our ears and not so much as to take from it the
plaintive bewitching tone that pervades the folk-music of
Hawaii. The song, the mele, is not in itself much--a hint, a
sketch, a sweep of the brush, a lilt of the imagination, a
connotation of multiple images which no jugglery of literary
art can transfer into any foreign speech. Its charm, like
that of all folk-songs and of all romance, lies in its
mysterious tug at the heartstrings.
[Page 162]

VIII--He Inoa no Kamehameha
(Old Mele--Kindness of H.R.H. Liliuokalani)
Arranged by LILLIAN BYINGTON
[Music:]

_He Inoa no Kamehameha_

Aia i Waipi'o[315] Paka'alana,[316]
Paepae[317] kapu ia o Liloa.[318]
He aloha ka wahine pi'i ka pali,[319]
Puili ana i ka hua ulei,
5 I ka ai mo'a i ka lau laau.[320]
Hoolaau[321] mai o ka welowelo.
Ua pe'e pa Kai-a-ulu o Waimea,[322]
Ua ola i ku'u kai,[323] Keoloewa,[324] e.

[Footnote 315: _Waipi'o_. A deep valley on the windward side of
Hawaii.]

[Footnote 316: _Paka'alana_. A temple and the residence of King
Liloa in Waipi'o.]

[Footnote 317: _Paepae_. The doorsill (of this temple), always
an object of superstitious regard, but especially so in the
case of this temple. Here it stands for the whole temple.]

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