Kaiuolani

The bugle call, clear and shrill, rang out upon the still, hollow air of a mild winter’s morning, as the queen and her invited guests, alike the royalty and commonalty of fair Hawaii, awaited the blast that signalled the beginning of the féte—sounded the march.

Liliuokolani calmly arose from a quiet seat in the Blue Room and proudly walked to the portico’s edge in front. Looking out, over the gay guests assembled in the broad gardens below, her heart swelled with contemplation and no thought of failure disturbed her peace of mind. The kindly woman welcomed some relief; for upon ascending the throne, at the death of her brother, Kalakawa, nearly two years theretofore, she had faithfully said:

“My ministry shall be responsible to me.”

Her attempt to invoke this ancient privilege, of appointing the cabinet and holding it responsible to the throne, had cost Liliuokolani two years of almost constant turmoil and struggle with the opposition; as the Progressionists—an organized body of foreign merchants, politicians and adventurers—had, during the administration of her predecessor, Kalekaua, wrested from him an alleged amendment to the constitution, placing that privilege and responsibility in the hands of the legislature. In her contention the queen had been loyally supported by the Royalists (consisting mainly of the planters and older foreign residents) and the Patriots, the predominant and better class of natives. Thus her position became clearly defined and seemed certain of hearty encouragement throughout the kingdom.

A decision had just been rendered in her favor, by the supreme court, and at the convention of the legislature the queen had thrown open her summer residence, Waikiki Villa, as was the custom, for the purposes of inaugurating the impending session with a grand garden party. Upon this occasion she may have possessed a deeper motive in making the festivities as nearly universal in their application as possible, for she was a gracious queen and would exceed the bounds of liberality to eradicate the last taint of difference.

Presently the band came into sight—it was the Royal Military band—playing the national air, Hawaii Poni (God Save The Queen), and every head in that vast throng was quickly bared. Liliuokolani bowed and gray-haired men and garland-ladened women thrilled with the pride of loyalty.

The troops followed, with their steel bayonets glistening in the sunlight, while sturdy officers in scarlet regalia, their polished sabers dangling at their sides, rode in front or galloped along, in one grand valiant acknowledgment. They were men with the vigor of ascension or the dread of displacement burning hot in their veins, for the Rifles (the white branch of the militia), five hundred strong, led the advance, with the Guards, or natives, in the rear. All, however, were animated with a single aim: they marched in unison to do homage to a wise and beloved ruler.

As they tramped along the broad, winding driveway, beneath the overtowering cocoa palms and amid the borders of verdant flowers, a thousand voices rose in response to the last echo of that anthem which always moves so deeply the hearts of patriotic men and noble, generous women. It was a confirmation of true endeavor, and Liliuokolani breathed freely the inspiration that comes only of a marked appreciation. In her heart no rancor lingered, and of a free will she would have crowned each and every one of her subjects with the material reward his efforts merited—as she gave him in her heart a spiritual blessing. On they came, the solid column advancing, until directly under the portico, where Colonel Floyd Wellington Young, commander of the Rifles, wheeled his charge and loyally saluted.

The gallant young officer rode his mount with the dash of a Napoleon, his red hair glowing with the fire of victory, though from his deep blue eyes there shone a determination to enforce justice, alike to himself and to his fellow men. The queen, standing there, high above his head, extended her white-gloved hand in humble recognition of his true worth and her superior regard; and not a few wept with joy at the apparent reconciliation of two contending factions, that had so long threatened to disrupt their island home.

Bowing gently in response, the colonel’s voice, loud and musical, echoed from the mountain side above to the rollicking sea below:

“Battalions—halt!”

Then:

“Right line—march!”

Immediately:

“Present—arms!”

And finally:

“Parade—rest!”

Quick and orderly the maneuvers were executed to the rhythm of “tramp, tramp” and the thud of a half-thousand rifles. Grandly they saluted, and with upturned faces awaited the queen’s response.

With chosen words and deliberate accent the considerate woman calmly said:

“I thank you in behalf of myself and my people for this splendid expression of fealty, and pray that God may give me strength to render a just and generous recognition. On this day, and I trust many others, my home is open unto you. The Queen’s blessing.”

Tears stole into the colonel’s eyes, as wheeling in the saddle he shouted command:

“Shoulder—arms! Column fours—left! Forward—march!” and the steady ranks moved on down the avenue, to give place to a more sympathetic advance.

The native company, with less dash but as certain a tread, came forward and at the command of their leader, Prince Aokahameha, executed quite as dextrously a similar movement; but when their salute had been given a deathly silence ensued. With filled eyes and heavy heart Liliuokolani leaned far over the railing and extending her arms, in hopeless expression, silently voiced a message that stirred deeply the blood that knew no land but theirs. Then with bowed heads and resolute step they hearkened to the voice of a Kamehameha and followed their commander down the lane, toward the Armory, behind the koas, a short distance away, at the capital city in front.

Ihoas-Kahili, the queen’s chief lady in waiting, stood near by and when the troops had passed from sight—the queen still watching them—she came to her majesty and consoled her and directing an attendant to place a seat counselled the queen to remain in the open, where she might view the gay throngs seated about the lawns or indulge the soft sea breeze that floated in from the nearby shore. Liliuokolani quickly consented, for on this day more than any other she, as well as Ihoas, was interested in the outcome of the chivalries.

The tall, young princess, a descendant of the Kamehamehas, seated herself close by and presently she too sank into deep, unsatisfying thought. Though her full name was Ihoas-Kahila Ralph, and her flowing hair and mild eyes contrasted noticeably with the massive, jet black waves and controlled, penetrating look of the queen, she was none the less of a royalty long antedating the Mauas, of whom Liliuokolani was the then reigning descendant. Aokahameha was of the same blood as Ihoas, and notwithstanding their displacement, like her cousin—they being of the younger generation of the Kamehamehas—had become reconciled to the new order and, altogether, sought with loyalty to do homage and render service unto their lawfully recognized queen.

Liliuokolani had long ago recognized the value of the grave and patriotic Aokahameha and his support in her desperate struggle against the final encroachment of the foreigners, and was anxious that upon this occasion Kaiuolani, the young and vivacious heir apparent, should crown him victor of the féte. This beautiful princess was one of the queen’s own blood, named by her majesty as the lawful successor to the throne, yet Liliuokolani would that Kaiuolani loved Aokahameha, for in him she trusted, saw her own beneficent plans unfold, and with his rise and promotion to the chief command of the army believed the throne secure.

Ihoas had become the queen’s real confidante, and though hopelessly (as there was good reason to believe) loved by Aokahameha, her majesty trusted her affectionate chief lady in waiting to urge the reconciliation of Aokahameha to a new love, while she herself would bring her own influence to bear upon Kaiuolani. In the pathway of all these fervent desires there had already come to view an almost endless chain of apparent obstacles; yet Liliuokolani felt in her heart that she was right, and no trial seemed too hard or measure severe for her to withstand. She sat there in the cool of the shade, her determination rising,—the tears had long ago dried,—a huge fan gently swaying in the sweet-laden zephyrs, while her faithful companion pondered more apprehensively, if less sternly, the troubled situation.

“Has Kaiuolani made her appearance in the garden?” asked the queen, after a while, thoughtfully, but kindly.

“I believe she is on the veranda below. Shall I call her?” asked Ihoas in answer, rising, and ready to do her majesty’s bidding.

“Please send the princess to me; I should like to speak with her—before the day is further advanced. You can leave us here, to ourselves: the diversion will be a welcome relief to you, and—there is someone, now, on the lawn; he looks; he desires you to come, I know.”