Transcriber’s Note
  Italic text displayed as: _italic_




[Illustration: THE AINU GROUP (AT TOKIO).]




  THE

  AINU GROUP

  At the Saint Louis Exposition

  BY

  FREDERICK STARR


  CHICAGO

  The Open Court Publishing Company

  1904




  COPYRIGHT BY
  THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING CO.

  1904.




  This book is dedicated
  to
  W J MCGEE,
  Who made my Ainu trip possible,
  and to
  JOHN BATCHELOR,
  Who made it a success.




PREFACE


This book does not pretend to be a study of the Ainu. It is a simple
narrative of my journey in Yezo and a description of the group of
Ainu that I brought to this country. It is true that I sketch some
features of Ainu life and suggest some questions regarding this
peculiarly interesting people. Readers who wish fuller information
will find much in Rev. John Batchelor’s books.




THE AINU GROUP


The most characteristic feature of the St. Louis Exposition is life,
action. To a greater degree than in any preceding Exposition the
buildings are full of action—machinery is in motion, artisans are
at work, things are being done. This characteristic is found in the
Department of Anthropology as well as in those of Machinery and the
Liberal Arts. While it is true that it presents cases filled with
objects, diagrams, maps, pictures, models, the usual dead material of
Ethnographical and Archæological Museums, it is also true that it has
lavished its main effort upon the outdoor Ethnological Exhibit, where
representatives of upwards of thirty living tribes are to be seen in
native dress, living in houses of their own construction, cooking and
eating the food to which they are accustomed at home, and practising
those simple arts and industries, which they have, themselves,
developed. Among these many groups, from North and South America,
from Africa and Asia, is a little group of the Ainu from Northern
Japan, a people who are, for many reasons, of exceptional interest.

In August of 1903, I was approached with the proposition that
I should go to Japan to secure this group and bring it to this
country. The plans for the expedition were finally completed in
January of 1904, and on the 14th of that month I left St. Louis with
one companion, my young Mexican photographer, Manuel Gonzales. Our
journey to Yokohama was uneventful. We reached there on February
9th and went up to Tokio on the 10th, where a stop of several days
was necessary for making preparations, seeing Japanese officials,
securing letters, etc. It was on the night of the day of our arrival
there, that the Japanese declaration of war against Russia was made.
Not the most favorable hour for asking aid, in a purely scientific
enterprise of no public or political character, from busy officials!
But, through this period of stress and preparation, of despatching
troops and moving war equipment, we were never disturbed or delayed
in our mission; those officials, whom we were obliged to meet,
received us with the same courtesy and attended to our requests with
the same care and promptness, as if it were a time of complete peace.
We were profoundly impressed by the business-like and energetic
way in which all was done and by the deep feeling, though calm
and quiet, among the people. Japan has gone into this war through
necessity; she did all in her power to avoid hostilities. But, in
going into the war, she expects to win. This expectation is no idle
exhibition of over-confidence. She fully realizes the enormous
advantages Russia has in size, in numbers, and in resources; but,
she expects, nevertheless, to gain the victory, for she feels that
it is a question of life and death. The struggle is no new one;
nor is it unforeseen. For more than a century, Japanese patriotic
writers have urged their nation to prepare herself to resist the
aggressions of her powerful neighbor; in 1791 Toshiakira made “a plea
for the development of Yezo, in view of Russian aggression.” In 1801
Yamada Ren made “a passionate appeal for colonizing Yezo and thus
forestalling the designs of Russia....”

The Ainu are not rovers. It is certainly a rare thing for members
of the race to leave their home. They have aroused interest for two
thousand years. The Chinese Annals tell of four _mao jin_, “hairy
men,” who were ship-wrecked on the Chinese coast in the year 310 A.
D. In 650 A. D. some of them accompanied a Japanese Embassy to China.
So far as we know, none have since left Japan until this group was
brought to this country in 1904. It is true that they sometimes form
one of the attractions in Japanese circuses and, in 1903, a group of
them was shown at the Osaka Exposition, where they attracted a great
deal of attention and were so sadly spoiled and corrupted, that we
were specially warned against having anything to do with any of the
group.

During our stay at Tokio, we visited the Imperial University, where
we found the Department of Anthropology well organized, with Prof.
Tsuboi at its head. It should be better housed than it is, but it
occupies two entire buildings, one of which is used for recitation
rooms, reading room and laboratory and the other as a Museum, in
which Japan and her dependencies are chiefly represented. Here we saw
extensive collections illustrating the archæology of Japan—which like
the rest of the world has had a Stone Age—and the ethnography of the
Ainu and the populations of the Loo Choo Islands, the Bonin Islands,
and Formosa. We were most interested in the Ainu collections, which
are varied and represent arts and industries, weapons, tools, dress,
ornament, etc. Were we not about to see all these in actual life
in Ainu homes, we should speak of them in detail. Probably the
largest collection of Ainu skeletal material in the world is in the
University Laboratory; it has been carefully studied and described by
a Japanese, Koganei.

When on Monday, February 15th, we were ready to start northward
things looked squally. It was reported that communication was
interrupted. Four Russian gunboats, from Vladivostock, had attacked
and sunk a merchant vessel at the Straits of Tsugaru. We were
advised to wait in Tokio until the announcement of resumption of
communication should be made. Time, however, was precious. We
determined to go on to Aomori as if nothing had occurred, and, if
we actually found no steamer about to sail, to make our way overland
to the northernmost village on the Hondo, and thence, hiring a
fishing-boat and hoisting an American flag, to cross to the nearest
point of the Island of Yezo. Our railroad journey to Aomori was a
matter of some twenty hours. We left Tokio with no snow anywhere
in sight, save on Fuji’s summit; when we looked out in the early
morning of the next day, we were in the midst of winter. Snow covered
the whole landscape, not fresh-fallen snow, but a sheet that had
already been there for weeks and months. Aomori itself is a quaint
fishing-town and port. Snow lay five or six feet deep in the middle
of the street. Shops and houses are built close together, and have
a continuous passageway or corridor before them. One may walk,
outside, in the middle of the road, on the elevated snow-way, or
inside, on the ground level, under shelter of the corridor. Here
and there, narrow ways, with steps, cut in the snow permit passage
up and down from one to the other way. The markets are interesting,
particularly the fish-markets; not only does one see there fishes of
ordinary kinds, both large and small, but flatfish, such as soles and
skates, cuttle-fishes, both whole and cut into pieces, shell-fish
in great variety, and sea-squirts or tunicates, some of brilliant
colors. Had we space, we could describe the lacquer which is made
here, the New Year offerings to the gods, the boys flying kites
with humming bows attached, but all these have naught to do with the
Ainu. A little to our satisfaction, for it would have been a hard
trip over the snow to Omazaki, we found communication restored and
were able to board our little steamer at nine o’clock and go to bed,
although we did not sail until early in the morning. For fear of
mines and hostile vessels, lying in wait, the run across the Straits
of Tsugaru was made in darkness and slowly. When we rose in the
morning, we were coasting along the coast of Yezo. There was snow
over the landscape but less than we expected, after our glimpse of
Aomori. The country was hilly; at times, mountainous; there was but
little breadth of beach, and often the mountains rose abruptly from
the sea-line. Here and there were little clusters of houses near
the seashore. It was bitterly cold and a piercing wind was blowing.
At 9.30 in the morning, we were in Hakodate Harbor, after passing
through a narrow and tortuous channel. The town, with a population
of perhaps 70,000, stretches along a coast line, presenting an arc
of almost two-thirds of a circle, and rises upon the lower slopes of
a great mountain mass, which rises finely in the background and is
fortified. We anchored in the Harbor and would have gone on shore,
if we could have learned that we were to lie there several hours.
There are Ainu settlements on the outskirts of the city, a Museum
of Ainu objects, and a mission station (including a school for
Ainu boys), which we would have been glad to see. At 3.30 in the
afternoon, we started. We could not find out when we were likely to
reach Muroran, being absolutely without an interpreter, and so went
to bed at nine o’clock, thinking ourselves entitled to the night’s
rest. But at eleven, we were routed from our beds by the steward
and found ourselves standing in the Bay of Muroran. The runner from
the Maruichi Hotel, to which we had a letter from our Aomori host,
took us in charge and loaded us and ours into a rowed scow. It was
bitterly cold, a heavy wind was blowing, and snow filled the air. We
were only lighted by paper lanterns, as, to the songs of the rowers,
we crossed the stretch of tossing waters to the shore. Our pretty
room at the Maruichi, our midnight supper, our first Japanese bed,
and our charcoal fire, were a pleasant contrast.

The morning was fine, fresh, and cold, with alternations of blue
sky and snow-filled air. Muroran has a pretty bay, almost circular,
land-locked, with many rock islets dotting it. The town itself is
small and mean, stretching in two or three long streets at different
levels, along the shore. There are Ainu towns at no great distance
and we hoped to catch our first glimpse of Ainu here but were
disappointed. We strolled through the town buying some photographs
of Ainu and some of the giant fanshells or pectens, which are the
characteristic souvenir of Muroran. In all parts of Japan, except
the island of Yezo, each town of any consequence has its especial
product, natural or artificial, for which it is famous. Japanese,
who visit such towns always carry home, for themselves and their
friends, samples of these. Thus Sendai has a black fossil wood from
which all sorts of trays, boxes, spoons, teacup-holders, etc., are
cut; Aomori has its especial mottled lacquer; and Morioka has lovely
iron teapots. But Yezo is peculiar; it is crude and new, a pioneer
district of new towns settled by immigrants from every part of Japan.
Most of its towns have no _meibutsu_ or specialty. Muroran, however,
has as its _meibutsu_, the giant fanshells.

[Illustration: VIEW OF MURORAN HARBOR.]

[Illustration: GIANT PECTEN: MURORAN.]

At 12.40, we took train for Sapporo, the capital of the Hokkaido, or
governmental district of which the island of Yezo, forms a part. And,
now that we were actually nearing the centre from which we were to
operate, our plan of procedure became a question of importance. As we
rode on, in the train, we turned it over and over. There was one man
in Yezo who could help us if he chose, the Rev. John Batchelor. Our
first plan was to find him, he lives at Sapporo, and to enlist his
interest and sympathy if possible. If we could do that, all would
be well. If he would not assist, then we should have to depend upon
the help of a paternal government. We had a letter from the Tokio
government to Baron Sonoda, the Governor of the Hokkaido. He would do
what he could. We would have to call upon him anyway and submit our
plan to him. If Mr. Batchelor should be favorable we should trouble
the Governor but little; otherwise, we should have to ask him to back
us so strongly that the poor Ainu would feel that they must go to St.
Louis, _willy nilly_.

We had gone about three-fourths of the journey when, at Iwamizawa
Junction, we saw a white man, slender, long-bearded, with fur cap,
boots and long cape-coat, waiting, with his wife, on the platform, to
board the train. They entered the car next to us, where he left lady
and luggage, and then again stepped out upon the station platform,
where he walked up and down. He seemed to know every guard and
employe at the station and talked with all in Japanese. Seeing us, he
casually spoke to us. Having answered his question, I said to him, “I
believe you are the man for whom I am looking and the one man who can
help me in my enterprise. I suspect you are the Rev. John Batchelor?”
My surmise was quite right, but Mr. Batchelor, being an Englishman,
is socially cautious, and at once became quite reticent. Before we
reached Sapporo, we had laid the case fully before him and he was
evidently interested. He was, however, non-committal and desired me
to see the Governor before he should promise his assistance. We were
not more than half convinced that we should win his favor, but, two
days later, after he had thought the matter over and Baron Sonoda
had given us his endorsement, Mr. Batchelor cast in his lot with us
most heartily and all was then plain sailing. Indeed there were _no_
difficulties; things were disappointingly easy—because, after all,
we enjoy some hardship and opposition! Japanese boys are taught that
they should be like the carp and swim _against_ the stream; it is
good for them. But we had no chance to be like carp.

[Illustration: MEDAL OF AINU TEMPERANCE SOCIETY.]

The Rev. John Batchelor came to Yezo in 1879, a young man of
twenty-four years. He has lived here ever since—more than half his
lifetime. A clergyman of the Church of England and a missionary of
the Church Missionary Society, he labors among both Japanese and
Ainu, but considers himself particularly called to be the Apostle
to the Ainu. He knows this people as no other stranger, Japanese
or “foreigner,” does. He has visited their villages in all parts
of the island; he speaks their language more perfectly than their
own young people do; he has studied their life, and thought, and
fancies. He is their friend and adviser in need and trouble. While
his converts among them may number nine hundred, his acquaintance
and influence extends to thousands. He has actually lived for years
in their villages, especially Piratori and Horobets. He has written
a Dictionary and a Grammar of the Ainu language and has translated
the Psalms, the New Testament, several Bible narratives, etc., into
it; he is the author of the two best books upon their life and
thought—_The Ainu of Japan_ and _The Ainu and Their Folk-lore_. In
mission work, he is wise. He feels that mere number of confirmations
counts for little and has often refused to confirm applicants, rather
than run risk of bringing contempt upon the name of church member. He
works to improve and to elevate; not, to “kill the Ainu that is in
you.” Recognizing the fearful ravages caused among this simple people
by drink, he has organized and labors to sustain an Ainu temperance
society. He supports what he calls a “rest-house,” built on his
premises at Sapporo, where any Ainu who is sick or troubled can come
and stay until cured or assisted. Sometimes as many as twenty are
housed there. They are supplied foodstuffs, which they prepare for
themselves. While they stay, they are expected, if able, not only to
do their own work but to help in the garden, or at the woodpile, or
about the house.

It was at Mr. Batchelor’s home that we saw our first Ainu. His
driver, Parapita, is a fine type. With his long grayish hair, his
great gray beard, his kindly expression, his graceful salutations,
his neat and simple dress, his ready service, the old man greatly
pleased us. Another patriarch, working at the woodpile, was venerable
and typical, but was mentally a little unsound; he was but a visitor
at the rest-house. Two young men, Yazo and Goro, we shall know better
bye and bye. All of the Ainu women at the house had long, black, wavy
hair hanging down upon their shoulders and bore the great blue-green
tattoo around the lips. This tattoo is quite unlike what I had
imagined from descriptions and colored photographs. Instead of being
a dull, rather dark, blue, it is a light blue-green, or green-blue,
which is vividly fresh, even when it has been on the face for years.
So true is this, that Manuel asked at once, on seeing it, whether
it was freshly applied paint or something more permanent. The girls
and women have pleasant, broad, open faces, and the abundant hair,
hanging loosely down at the sides onto the shoulders, sets them off
well. They are modest in their manner and, often, bashful. It is a
common trick, especially in certain villages, for an Ainu girl, when
bashful in the presence of strangers, to hang her head and shake it
so that the hair falls over the whole face like a veil. But, for all
this modest concealment, their handsome dark eyes are watching from
beneath the sheet of hair and seeing all that goes on outside.

Mr. Fujimura, the Hokkaido government’s Fishery Expert, who speaks
excellent English, took us to see the Museum of the district. It is
fairly good in the Zoology and Geology of the Hokkaido. The upper
floor is devoted mainly to Ethnography and, naturally, most of the
specimens are from the Ainu. The collection is not so large nor so
complete as it should be, nor is it particularly well arranged.
There are examples of the mattings, the bark cloth, articles of
dress, ornaments, weapons, and implements, of Ainu of several
villages. There is a series of wooden war-clubs, apparently of
recent manufacture, from near Muroran, which shows a considerable
variety in form. These clubs are now rarely found in the villages
and originals cannot be easily secured. An entire case is devoted
to the cups, tubs, moustache sticks, implements, and _inao_ used in
the bear-feast, but they merely suggest what _might_ be done in the
making of such a display. One of the most interesting objects in the
Ainu collection is a grave-post from the Island of Saghalien, quite
different in its form and carved decoration from those made by the
Yezo Ainu. It is made from the forking trunk of a small tree and a
considerable part of the available surface is covered with carved,
apparently geometric, designs. The old man who conducts visitors
through the Museum is little likely to permit anyone to escape,
without seeing a great, stuffed, brown bear, which killed and ate
three persons. Parts of one of the victims, a little baby, taken from
its stomach, are preserved in a bottle of alcohol.

[Illustration: CARVED GRAVEPOST: ISLAND OF SAGHALIEN.]

We started out on Monday, February 22, legal holiday at home, for
our hasty trip through the Ainu villages of the Saru River district,
to secure our group of Ainu. We had already decided to take Yazo
(Ozara Fukotaro) and his wife, Shirake from Mr. Batchelor’s house.
As already familiar with white people and their customs, we felt
that they would be a good influence in keeping others satisfied.
Yazo has lived with Mr. Batchelor since he was fourteen years old,
now a matter of ten years. He is industrious and progressive and has
a little farm, some horses, etc. While we were gone, he went out
to his village to make arrangements for the care of his place and
property, while he should be away. His wife, Shirake, is a pretty and
attractive girl of eighteen years, timid and modest.

[Illustration: SHIRAKE.]

We went on the railroad, back toward Muroran, leaving the train at
Tomakomai, about midway between Sapporo and Muroran. Mr. Batchelor
had telegraphed ahead and a _basha_ was waiting for us at the
station. A _basha_ is a queer, little, four-wheeled, covered cart,
drawn by two of the small and shaggy Japanese horses. A cross-seat
in front serves for the driver, and two lengthwise seats within
are for passengers, who enter the vehicle from behind by a single,
central, iron step. The _basha_ is expected to carry six passengers,
three on each seat, and the fare is charged for six, whether there is
a single person or a full load. By the time we three were in, with
our lunch basket, camera, luggage, etc., it would have been difficult
for others to have found a place. Though it was chilly, the snow was
thawing and before we had gone far, we really had no snow at all.
From the station, we struck straight for the sea, riding over a low,
flat, country, chiefly grass-grown, though with trees here and there.
As we neared the coast, the road became actually sandy. From the
open end of the _basha_, behind us, we had fine views of the pretty
volcano Tarumai. The air was clear and the graceful, white-covered,
mountain stood sharply against the sky. A great deal of vapor was
escaping from it and the constant changes in the form and size of the
white clouds of it, that hung at the crater until blown away, were
curious to watch. When we reached the sea we turned abruptly to the
left, losing the volcano view, and rode in long straight stretches,
parallel to the coast, behind and below the line of low dunes. We
passed, now and again, little groups of fishing huts and miniature
_torii_, gateways to wee Shinto shrines. We reached Yubutsu, where
we dismounted and walked along the sandy coast to stretch our legs
and warm our bodies. When, after changing horses, the _basha_
came along again, we remounted. At Azuma we spent the night in a
Japanese inn, where Mr. Batchelor has a European room and a stove.
His lunch-basket pieced out our supper, as it did all our subsequent
meals, in a marvellous way. Azuma was full of soldiers as “the
reserves” were being called out and this was a local gathering place.

[Illustration: GROUP OF AINU GRAVES.]

When we started in the morning, the wind was cold and we walked a
little to start the circulation. For some time after we entered the
_basha_, our road continued over a plain covered with dry yellow
grass, with oak trees, scattered or in clumps, here and there.
Little or no snow lay on the ground. The general impression of the
winter landscape was dreary and desolate. At Mukawa, we changed
horses and _basha_, and found ourselves nearing the line of hills,
which we had long seen ahead. At Sarabuto, where we first reached
the Saru River, we turned left, leaving the sea and the low country
and striking straight for the hills. We soon passed near the Ainu
village of Shumunkot, and close by the side of the road saw a place
where five Ainu had been buried. Such burial places are usually in
out-of-the-way spots, and are neglected and avoided. There were no
graves raised over the dead and the area was overgrown with brush.
That there were three men, one woman and one girl, was shown by the
stakes marking the graves. These were small trunks or large branches
of trees with the bark left on. For a man’s grave, the upper end of
the stake is cut to a spear-point or paddle-tip; for a woman’s, the
upper end is rounded and pierced so as to present a loop or a half
ring. The grave-stake for a child is smaller than that of an adult.

[Illustration: STAKE AT GRAVE OF FEMALE AINU.]

Here we were again near an Ainu town, Nina, and from here on we
were in a forest, frequently on uneven or rolling land, and in the
midst of actual winter, with plenty of snow all around us. Presently
we came to a considerable Ainu town, Lower Piratori, so called
because lower on the Saru River than Upper Piratori. It is well
characterized, typical of the Saru River villages. A single street
runs through the place; the houses lie in one long line on the east
of this street, while the storehouses, set high up, each on four
posts, to keep the contents out of reach of animals, are to the west
of it. We paid particular attention to the orientation of the houses,
because Hitchcock thinks that it is a matter of no consequence. At
Lower Piratori, and at all the other Ainu towns we visited, the house
is placed east and west; at the east end is the sacred window; the
main doorway, at the western end, is generally not visible, being
sheltered by a little approach, shelter or shed, known as the _shem_,
the doorway in which opens south. In this _shem_ the millet mortar
and pestle, agricultural implements, etc., are stored. The east
window and the west doorway are often the only openings from the
rectangular, single-roomed house, but there may be a south door and
also a south window. The Ainu house is rectangular; the ridgepole
runs lengthwise and the roof is two-pitched. The framework of the
house consists of tree-trunk uprights and pole cross-pieces, all
lashed together with cords or strips of bark; the walls are of rushes
and mattings and the roof is a heavy thatch. In building the house
the roof is first constructed and then lifted and placed upon the
corner posts.

[Illustration: AINU VILLAGE: OSATNAI.]

In the centre of the room is the open fireplace—a rectangular
space, marked out with boards set on edge. There is no chimney for
the escape of smoke. The floor may be covered with mats, which are
made by the women. The different members of the household have their
individual places in the house. The east end of the fireplace is
honorable and when a guest arrives to whom great respect is due,
a box is set in this place of honor, a fine mat with decorative
patterns woven into it is folded and laid upon it, and he is invited
to sit down. The sleeping places along the walls are sometimes
separated from each other by suspended mats. The inside wall is often
hung with mats, partly as a decoration and finish and partly to cut
off draughts. Over the fireplace hangs a kettle in which food is
boiled; it is suspended by a wooden pothook, which has an ingenious,
though simple, mode of adjustment whereby it can be lowered or
raised. In the northeast corner of the house are the “treasures,”
varying of course with the householder. There are great tubs for
saké, cylindrical vessels with lids; they measure a foot or two in
height by about a foot across, are of Japanese manufacture and are
usually black lacquer with gilding. They were presented long ago to
the ancestors, maybe by Japanese officials, and are prized heirlooms.
There are also lacquer saké cups or bowls, of various sizes and
shapes, but also Japanese gifts and heirlooms. On the wall are hung
sword-sheaths with hilts in place; generally there are no blades
within, whether because these have been disposed of, or because the
Japanese givers thought best not to supply the enemy real weapons, we
do not know. All these cups and tubs and swords make a great show,
although they are all heavy with the accumulated smoke and dirt
of years. Beside these treasures of Japanese origin one sees also
objects of native workmanship—knife sheaths (with and without knives)
and wooden quivers, some of which contain arrows, even old arrows
with the famous poison on them.

[Illustration: STOREHOUSES: OSATNAI.]

Outside, to the east of the sacred window and at a little distance,
is the _nusa_, or “sacred hedge,” a line or group of willow sticks
set in the ground, from the upper ends of which hang curls of
shavings, usually shaved from the sticks themselves. Such shaved
sticks, called _inao_, play an important part in the life and
religion of the Ainu. The _nusa_ is sacred and strangers should not
meddle with it or with single _inao_, nor pass between the _nusa_ and
the east window. Nor ought people to look in through the east window
or throw things out from the house through it. _Inao_ are also used
inside the house. The one of chief importance stands in the very
northeast corner of the house and ought never to be removed from its
place. Even shaving curls, cut completely from their stick have their
value and are tied to, wrapped about, or laid upon, articles in the
treasure corner. _Inao_ are also set up by the springs of water, by
the storehouses, and even near the outhouses or places of relief. In
all these cases, they serve as guardians or charms with magic power.

[Illustration: TREASURES HUNG IN NORTHEAST CORNER OF HOUSE.]

We did not tarry long at Lower Piratori, but continued our journey
to Upper Piratori, which is close by. In fact, formerly, there was
a continuous village but a migration of the middle part of the town
has left the extremes separated and now they bear distinct names.
The little Japanese inn is in the centre of Upper Piratori and we
were soon comfortably installed. Piratori is, of all Ainu towns,
the best known to the outside world and many travelers—Miss Bird,
Landor, Fincke,—have described it and pictured its chief, old Penri.
The old man died in December last. When Mr. Batchelor first came to
Piratori, years ago, he lived in Penri’s house, having the southeast
corner partitioned off for his use. Here he began to study the
language and to collect the materials for his dictionary. The old
house still stands, though now occupied by a Japanese family, and we
photographed it, with Mr. Batchelor near the south doorway, in memory
of old times. At the time of his death, Penri lived in another house,
which we visited. The widow, on seeing us began to weep, in token of
her bereavement; this she would be expected to do, on first seeing
a friend after her husband’s death, even if a much longer time had
passed after the event. Somewhat to our surprise she let us take
away an _inao_ placed at the west door in connection with the funeral
and mourning.

[Illustration: NUSA: NEPTANI.]

At a neighboring house we were greatly impressed by the dignified
appearance of two men seated at the fireplace, father and son. The
older, a brother of Penri, had long gray hair and beard; the younger,
was of somewhat stouter build and had abundant long black hair and a
full black beard. As we entered, and the old man saw who we were, he
rose without a word, found his crown and placed it on his head; both
then proceeded to salute us. We had already seen something of these
strange and dignified greetings, but this was our first experience
of the thing at home. They sat for some time slowly rubbing their
hands together, back and forth, the palms being vertical; after
doing this, they separated the hands outward to the sides, palms
upward, and then raised and lowered them two or three times, as if
balancing or weighing something, each time raising them higher and
nearer to the beard; finally they brought the hands to the beard and
stroked it from the sides. There are then, really three parts to this
salutation, after the performance of which the conversation began.

[Illustration: PENRI’S OLD HOUSE: UPPER PIRATORI.]

These crowns worn ceremoniously by the men are really interesting;
they consist of a foundation band of cloth or woven work that fits
around the head. To this, in front, there is a bear’s head carved in
wood; this is replaced sometimes, as at Shiraoi, by bear claws;
sometimes the carved head of an eagle or a hawk replaces the bear’s
head. From the band of the crown hang several—often six—little
square flaps of cloth. These are the “hair” of the crown which also
has a “body” and “bones.” A. Henry Savage-Landor, often unreliable,
calls these strange head-dresses “regal crowns.” Of course there is
nothing “regal” about them. They are worn at joyful festivals or on
other pleasant occasions,—such as our visit!—and may be worn only by
_well-to-do_ and _good_ men.

Among Ainu the woman is regarded as an inferior and generally she
acquiesces pleasantly enough in the assumption. At festivals, the men
sit in a line in front, near the drinking cups; the women sit behind
and receive what their lords please to give them after they have had
what they want. The woman usually wears a band of cloth around her
head. On meeting a man, in greeting him, she respectfully removes
this and hangs it upon her left arm; she then draws her right hand
over her upper lip, from the left to the right; she may then pat
the hair at the sides of her head, with her hands. The movement of
drawing her hand across her lip is common when she has received a
favor and seems to be an expression of thanks and pleasure.

[Illustration: AINU GROUP: FEAST OCCASION.]

We had planned to photograph during the afternoon but it snowed
heavily—as it did every afternoon, while we were in the villages—so
we visited from house to house and then waited at the inn, for
those who, at Mr. Batchelor’s suggestion, brought in wares and
treasures for sale. As these articles were everywhere practically
the same, we may as well describe them once for all in connection
with Piratori. For a long time back, as shown by old pictures, the
Ainu dress has been much like that of their Japanese neighbors.
There are, however, some articles of dress that are truly Ainu and
even when Japanese stuffs and patterns are used the decoration may
be characteristic. The women make a coarse, brown, thread, from
elm-bark fibre, which is called _attus_. This they weave, using a
simple loom, into a strong and durable cloth, which, however, becomes
brittle if too dry. This may be woven solidly in the natural color,
or stripes of blue, (black or white,) threads may be woven into
it. From such cloth, single piece garments, much like the Japanese
_kimono_, with short sleeves tapering at the end, are made for both
men and women; there is little, if any real, difference in form in
those for the two sexes and both are folded and held in position, by
a band at the waist, in the same way. Upon these garments, whether
made of _attus_ cloth or of Japanese cottons, the women embroider
elaborate patterns in colored threads. On the whole the garments for
men are more ornamented than those for women. The patterns are said
to differ somewhat from district to district. The designs consist
of curious combinations of straight lines and graceful curves. In
their irregular forms and symmetrical arrangements, one would hardly
think that original animal designs might be hidden. There is no
question, however, that some of these apparently meaningless, simply
fanciful, designs are conventionalizations of the bear’s head and
it is possible that all of them might, by careful study, be traced
back to some such origin. Both men and women wear leggings wrapped
about the leg from the knee down, which are made of _attus_, or of
Japanese blue stuffs, and are often decorated with the curved-line
embroideries. Around the neck, women wear a closely-fitting, narrow
band of velvet, with a little flap at the middle; upon this flap,
which hangs in front when the band is adjusted, is a round piece of
silver or german silver upon which an ornamental design is engraved.
Both sexes wear earrings, but the old men seem particularly fond of
great hoop-earrings, two inches or more across, which are sometimes
of silver but more likely of some cheaper material. Women delight in
necklaces and often carry several pounds of large beads around the
neck; these beads are rarely of bright glass, being generally of dull
colors and of some porcelanous material. We had supposed these beads
to be of Japanese origin but are told that most of them came from
Manchuria. In any event, the heavy strings of beads are, generally,
heirlooms and it is probably a long time since new supplies of them
have been sold or exchanged to the Ainu. Frequently, square-pierced
“cash” are strung in with the beads and a disk or other pendant of
metal hangs from the necklace. While the woman is often content with
any cloth to tie around her head, she sometimes weaves a special
head-band of decorative character.

[Illustration: WOMAN’S DRESS OF ELM-BARK CLOTH, EARRINGS, AND
NECKLACE.]

[Illustration: MAN’S CEREMONIAL DRESS.[1]]

Ainu babies, like Japanese, are often carried on the backs of older
children, who are themselves little more than babies. The modes of
carrying are, however, quite different. The Japanese baby is bound in
place and the loose over-garment of the little nurse is then put on
so as to cover both baby and carrier; the Ainu baby, sometimes seated
on a little stick, is carried by means of a carry-strap, _tara_, very
like those in use among American Indians, which passes across the
forehead of the bearer. Not only babies, but all sorts of burdens
are carried with the _tara_.

[Illustration: JAPANESE AND AINU CHILDREN CARRYING BABIES.]

The face tattoo of Ainu women has already been mentioned. It is
begun in childhood, a small round spot being made at the middle of
the upper lip. It is not done by pricking with points as Japanese
tattooing is, but by cutting with a knife. Soot from the bottom
of the kettle is rubbed into the cut lines and a decoction of ash
bark is washed on to fix the color, which, as already stated, is a
blue-green. The tattooing is gradually developed, until, when the
girl is ready for marriage, the whole, great, moustache-like mark
is fully done. It completely surrounds the mouth, covering both
the upper and lower lip, and even extends onto the mucous membrane
surface. The hands and the arms to the elbows are also tattooed with
a system of rings, dots, zigzags, etc., which appear to be largely
individual.

In the Ainu house, furniture in our sense of the word is largely
lacking. Mattings are used for wall-hangings, carpeting, seats and
beds. In the _shem_ are the mortar and pestle for pounding millet.
The mortar is hollowed out from a section of a tree trunk; the pestle
is heavy, with a head at each end. Women do the pounding, often
two of them working together, dealing alternate blows, and singing
wordless songs to give time to the blows. There is a variety of bowls
and platters, trays, stirrers, ladles, and spoons, cut from wood,
some plain and some decorated with ornamental carved designs. Also
cut from wood, are pounders, pothooks, suspended cradles, sticks for
the baby to sit on when carried, troughs for feeding bears from,
and the different parts of the simple loom. There are two kinds of
native devices for lighting—a torch consisting of a cleft-stick with
a folded bit of birch-bark stuck into the cleft and a lamp made of
a pecten shell, as a receiver for oil, set up on a crotched stick.
The shell of the pecten also makes a good scoop for dipping out the
dinner from the common pot—we have the one that old Parapita used
to use at home—and at Shiraoi, we found the great shell lashed to a
stick handle, for use as a ladle. Trays and bowls, scoops and ladles
are also neatly made from pieces of bark. Agricultural implements are
crude. A bent stick serves as a grub or hoe, while poor spades may
be cut from wood. A long and narrow fresh-water mussel shell is the
sickle with which grain is cut, only the head being removed, while
the whole length of the straw remains standing in the field.

[Illustration: WOMEN POUNDING MILLET.]

Left to themselves, the Ainu would prefer to remain hunters and
fishermen. Their mountains abounded in deer and bears and the waters
of Yezo swarmed with salmon and other fish. The Ainu had devised a
series of ingenious traps and weapons. To-day they have guns, but
bows are also somewhat used, though poisoned arrows are a thing of
the past—thanks to Japanese laws. The Ainu bow is a single, simple,
stick of yew; the bowstring is a cord of bark fibre. The poisoned
arrow was an ingenious affair. The foundation of the poison was
aconite secured from the corm of the plant; to this various other
ingredients were added. Not everyone knew how to compound the poison
and to-day the knowledge is possessed by few. The point of the arrow
was rather large and broad and was hollowed out on one side; a wad of
the poison was pressed into this hollow and then set in place with
gum. The Ainu hunter, besides his bows and arrows, spears and clubs,
had his hunting knife and knew well how to use it in close encounters
with bears. He still uses it and always carries it, sheathed in an
elaborately carved wooden case, upon his person.

At Upper Piratori is the “shrine of Yoshitsune.” This famous Japanese
hero of the 12th century, according to a doubtful tradition, escaped
his pursuing enemies and sought refuge in Yezo, where he was greatly
respected by the Ainu, among whom he lived the remainder of his
life. Upon the height behind the upper end of the village, there
is a little shrine, which contains an ugly figure of a Japanese
warrior, said to be Yoshitsune. Miss Bird describes the “worship” of
this figure by the Ainu. The shrine and the figure are both purely
Japanese. Who put them where they are, or when, or why, we cannot
say. If the figure is respected by the Ainu of the village, it has
had but little influence on their religious thought. It is aught
except “the great god of the mountain Ainu.” If we had had more time
or if it had been summer, we would have visited it. As it was we
cared more to look at Ainu _inao_ and _nusa_.

Miss Bryant, an Australian lady, lives at Upper Piratori as the local
missionary of the C. M. S. She speaks Ainu and has a household of
Ainu girls. She was good enough to invite us in the evening to take
coffee and delicious cakes. She showed us some embroideries her girls
had made in colored silks on cottons. The materials are Japanese
and she supplies these to the girls. The designs are left to them.
The stitching is well done and is as neat and even as machine work;
it is hard to think that the better pieces were done by hand. Mrs.
Batchelor, at Sapporo, also allows the Ainu girls in her house to do
such needlework. From the sale of such pieces to travelers the girls
gain a little money for themselves.

[Illustration: ON THE MARCH, CROSSING THE SARU.]

We had thought to pursue our further journey with sleds, but these
failed to appear and we started off on foot. As carriers of our
luggage we hired a married couple, of whom the woman appeared to
be far the better man. At all events, she took the heavier _kore_
(basket-trunk) and started off the more gaily. Both used the _tara_,
or carry-strap passing across the forehead, in carrying their loads.
We at once crossed the Saru River on the ice. It is here a broad
stream, flowing between low terraces, back of which rise fine
hills. We tramped steadily through a forest, over a somewhat rolling
country, and at the end of an hour found ourselves at Neptani. Here
we saw our first evidence of a bear-feast. To the east of one house
was a _nusa_, upon the middle _inao_ of which was fastened a bear’s
head with the ears and skin yet on. Between the house and the _nusa_
was a post, with a tuft of green at the top, to which the bear
had been tied, and we could see, below the east window, the newly
repaired wall, showing where the old one had been broken down at the
time of the celebration. We saw plenty of similar trophy _nusas_
and other evidences of bear feasts later, but nowhere were we so
fortunate as to find the feast in progress—nor did we anywhere see
living bears in the villages. There were cages everywhere but all the
bears had been killed.

As the bear feast is the most important Ainu ceremonial and one of
the strangest customs of this strange people, we will describe it
from the observations of others.

[Illustration: BEAR’S CAGE AND FEEDING TROUGH.]

[Illustration: ARROW USED IN BEAR-FEAST.]

Bear-hunting takes place in the late winter and early spring. In
these hunts the Ainu often show great courage and intrepidity.
The bear is a large, brown species, near, if not identical with,
the grizzly bear. When one is killed it is ceremoniously treated.
Salutations and apologies are made to the body. It is then skinned
and the head and skin are laid out and decorated with ribbons, _inao_
shavings, etc. Feasting ensues and the whole occasion is one of
joy and gaiety. But this is _not_ the “bear-feast.” When on these
bear-hunts, the Ainu are particularly anxious to capture a little
bear cub, which is taken home alive, and given over to a woman for
raising. There has been much debate over the question whether she
suckles it as she would her baby. It has often been affirmed that she
does and has often been denied. When Mr. Batchelor wrote _The Ainu of
Japan_, he was anxious not to admit the claim. Since then, however,
he has actually seen the little animal suckled by women, several
times. On one occasion, when he was preaching in a house, the little
cub was taken into the service and was passed from one woman to
another and suckled, in the most matter-of-fact way. Later on, though
no longer suckled, the pet bear is most carefully fed; sometimes
the woman will give it a soft morsel with her lips. When the animal
is too large to be longer kept in the house and petted, it is put
out into the cage, constructed of a cob-work of logs and raised a
little above the ground on posts. In feeding it there, a special
wooden trough with a handle is used. Formerly the bear was kept two
or three years in the village; now one rarely sees a bear more than
a year old in the cages. Finally the time for the great ceremonial
arrives. Food and drink are prepared in large quantities—millet cakes
or dumplings, millet beer, and saké (Japanese rice brandy). Guests
from other villages are invited. Everyone is dressed in their finest
clothing. The older and more important men wear their crowns. The men
have bathed and their foreheads and the back of their necks have been
shaved and their hair trimmed; bathing, shaving and hair trimming
regularly occur but once a year. Abundance of fresh _inao_ are cut.
A preliminary feasting takes place, at which the men seat themselves
in a semi-circle to the east of the house, facing the _nusa_, near
the food and drink, which are placed before them; the women sit
behind the men. Presently a man, chosen for that service, goes to the
bear’s cage, where he salaams and makes an address to the captive.
Mr. Batchelor prints one such address, as follows: “Oh thou divine
one, thou wast sent into the world for us to hunt. Oh, thou precious
little divinity, we worship thee; pray hear our prayer. We have
nourished thee and brought thee up with a deal of pains and trouble,
all because we love thee so. Now, as thou hast grown big, we are
about to send thee to thy father and mother. When thou comest to them
please speak well of us, and tell them how kind we have been; please
come to us again and we will sacrifice thee.” Two young men, one on
either side, now noose the bear with lassoes and drag him out among
the people. Armed with bows and peculiar arrows, with blunt, wooden
points, they shoot at him to tease and irritate him. Such arrows are
not used on any other occasion, and the tips are stained black after
which ornamental patterns are cut through, to show the white wood
beneath; a bit of red flannel is added at the very tip. After being
led around for some time, the animal is tied to a stout stake driven
into the ground, and the teasing continues. Finally, two young men
attack the animal, one seizing it by the ears and head, the other
taking it by the hind quarters; a third man rushes up holding a stick
by the ends in his hands and forces it between the bear’s teeth; four
other men seize the animal by his legs or feet and drag them outward
until the bear lies sprawling upon the ground. Two long poles are
then placed, one on the ground under the bear’s throat, the other
across the nape of his neck. Upon these the people crowd and weigh
down to strangle the poor beast. Sometimes a man with a bow and arrow
shortens the creature’s sufferings by a well-directed shot. The bear
is then skinned and its head is cut off, the skin remaining attached
to it. The skin and head are then laid out upon a nice mat near the
east window, and decorated with _inao_ shavings, beads, earrings,
small mirrors, etc.; a bit of its own flesh is placed under its
snout; dried fish, saké or millet beer, millet dumplings, and a cup
of its own meat boiled are offered to it. A worshiper addresses it in
some such fashion as this: “Oh, cub, we give you these _inao_, cakes,
and dried fish; take them to your parents and say, ‘I have been
brought up for a long time by an Ainu father and mother and have been
kept from all trouble and harm; as I am now grown big, I am come to
thee. I have also brought you these _inao_, cakes, and dried fish.
Please rejoice.’ If you say this to them, they will be very glad.”
Dancing and feasting then ensue. A cup of the animal’s flesh has
meantime been boiled; after this has been offered to him, a little
is given to every person present, even the children. A general feast
upon the meat of the bear follows, until practically nothing is left
except his bones. The head with its skin attached is then placed upon
the _nusa_ and left there. In time, through decay and weathering,
only the bleached skull remains. Sometimes, a _nusa_ will bear great
numbers of these skulls. At Shiraoi, we later saw some _nusas_ that
had four or five, but we have not seen any of the great trophies,
such as are figured in some books.

While the bear-feast is the greatest ceremonial of the year, it
is not absolutely different from some others. Birds of various
kinds,—especially the great eagle, hawk, and owl,—and other
animals,—as the hare or rabbit—are sacrificed or “sent away,” in much
the same way, often after having been kept in captivity for a longer
or shorter time.

[Illustration: NUSA WITH BEAR-SKULLS: SHIRAOI.]

The island of Yezo is unlike the rest of Japan, in geology, in
fauna, and in flora. It is a continental island, continuing in its
structure and rock formations the neighboring mainland, although it
is an active volcanic area and presents some modern eruptive rocks.
The island is remarkably compact and presents the least coast line
to square mile of surface of any part of the Japanese Empire. It
presents the finest forests and the broadest plains of Japan, and its
Ishikari is the longest Japanese river. Its coal mines are extensive
and there are other sources of mineral wealth. In its fauna and
flora the island is remarkably like the Eastern United States—not
merely in general aspect, but in identity of species. Yezo, with its
immediately neighboring islands, presents an area of 30,273 square
miles, about that of South Carolina. Until recently, it has been
occupied by the Ainu. As Russian aggression has been more and more
feared by Japan, it became plain that Yezo, with its unaggressive
population of Ainu, was a weak spot, unprotected and easily attacked,
which needed to be strengthened. A policy of colonization was
developed. To colonize wisely, demanded study and experiment. A
geological survey was made, experimental farms were established,
an agricultural college was founded, roads were built, towns were
planted, industries were originated. Much of this work of development
was placed in the hands of Americans, some of whom did nobly,
while others betrayed their trust or failed through incapacity.
Immigration was encouraged from the older and more crowded parts of
the Empire. Towns, and even cities, have grown up in a few years;
everything is new; life is much as that of our pioneer days and
frontier settlements. All this is undoubtedly good for Japan as a
nation, but it is hard upon the Ainu. In 1874 Yezo numbered 144,069
inhabitants, of whom 16,000 were Ainu; in 1899, the population was
859,534, the Ainu being reported at 17,000. This flood of Japanese
immigration is largely homesteaders; each year sees the Ainu more
directly in contact with Japanese neighbors and less secure in the
little villages which he occupies. Such thoughts as these about the
island home of the Ainu suggested themselves to our minds as we
trudged over the snow through the forests.

[Illustration: HUNTING PARTY LEAVING FOR MOUNTAINS.]

[Illustration: KUTOROGE.]

But our walking neared its end. At Neptani we arranged for a sledge
and then started on, leaving it to overtake us. Just as we left the
village, we overtook a hunting party on its way to the mountains
for deer. The men of the party came from two or three different
villages; they carried the guns, and led the dogs; the women carried
the luggage. The dogs were like coyotes in size and form and some
of them were brown-gray in color; there was, however, considerable
range in color. They were strangers to one another and quarrelsome,
and probably several days had to elapse before they became friendly.
Having exchanged greetings with the hunters and photographed the
group, we journeyed on. From here the country was more broken, the
terrace slope being cut by lateral gorges, opening on the Saru, which
was still to our left. Before long, we were overtaken by our sled,
the driver of which was a typical young fellow of some twenty-two
years, beardless, indeed, but with long hair hanging, from a central
parting, down upon his shoulders. Before we reached the next village,
we met a man from Okotnai, whither we were bound, who told us that
the man, of whom we were in search, had gone hunting. This was a
dash to our hopes, for we had counted on securing him for our group.
He was no doubt already in the mountains beyond our reach and not
likely to return for a fortnight or more. The hunting party which
we had photographed was still in sight and their leader had greatly
pleased us. Asking whether we cared for him, Mr. Batchelor called him
back. He told him that we wished him, with his wife and child, to
go with us to the United States; that he would be gone nine months;
that he should go. A look of blank helplessness came over his face,
but he replied that he would have to go, of course, if _he_ said
so. I now found for the first time—because the type is really very
uniform, and all men of an age look alike—that he was the younger of
the two men whom we had seen in the first home we visited in Upper
Piratori—Kutoroge, the nephew of old Penri. This recognition recalled
the older man and we suggested to Mr. Batchelor, the wish that he,
too, might be secured. “Oh, yes, Kutoroge, the gentleman wants an
old man, a graybeard, who knows how to make the arrow poison and to
whittle the _inao_. Can you not find him such a man?” “Why, sir,
there is my old father, you know! Would he not do? And really, if we
must _die_, it is better that we should die together than separated.”
“Oh, yes,” we answered, “so there _is_ your father! Well, go back to
your village, and tell him and make preparation, so that all may be
ready when we come back to-morrow.” He agreed, but would have to go
on to the next village to overtake his wife, who had gone on with the
luggage, while we were talking. Thus a hunting party was left without
its leader!

[Illustration: CROSSING A STREAM IN WINTER.]

Passing Penakori, traveling through a fine hill district, for the
most part wooded, near Porosaru, we came to a little stream which was
open and which we had to cross by a dugout canoe. The ferryman was an
old man, with fine hair and beard. He was dressed in native garments,
which were old and worn. Though the weather was cold, his breast was
uncovered and showed an unusually thick growth of body hair. The
old man first poled us over, then brought our luggage and the box
body of the sled. The driver, mounting the little horse, forded him
across, dragging the runners. After we had reconstructed the sled
and loaded in the baggage, we rode on through the forest, over the
uneven terrace, until at last we descended to the Saru River. It was
open, and projecting fringes of ice reached out from the shore over
the water in a way that looked dangerous. However, we crept out on
them, expecting them to break and let us into the water, to another
canoe, poled this time by a strong, young ferryman. We crossed safely
and crept out onto similar projecting ice fringes on the other side.
Our driver tried to make a crossing at a ford higher up the river,
but failed. Meantime we followed the river bottom for some little
distance, over soft and water-soaked snow, that let us sink deeply
every two or three steps; finally, however, we mounted to the low
terrace where the walking improved and were soon in the village of
Osatnai. From there it was but a fifteen-minutes’ walk to Okotnai,
last of this group of Saru Ainu towns and the goal of our journey.
From Tomakomai, where we left the railroad, we had traveled in the
three days some eighteen _ri_, equal to about forty-five miles,
distributed as shown in the following table of villages through which
we passed:

     Tomakomai,
     Yubutsu,
     Azuma,           5 _ri_
     Mukawa,
     Sarabuto,
  [2]Shumunkot,
  [2]Nina,
  [2]Lower Piratori,
  [2]Upper Piratori,  7 _ri_
  [2]Neptani,
  [2]Penakori,
  [2]Porosaru,
  [2]Osatnai,
     Okotnai,         6 _ri_
                    ————
                     18 _ri_ = about 45 miles.

It was just after noon when we arrived, going directly to
Tunkamareg’s house. He had really gone hunting, but Charenga, his
wife, was at home, and we were made welcome. Two families live in
the house, each with two or three children. Tunkamareg and Charenga
are both Ainu; the other man is Ainu, but his wife is Japanese and
the little mongrel children were not much to my taste. We were cold
and tired and hungry. The pot was boiling and we put some chicken
that we had brought with us from Piratori in with the millet that
the house supplied, and were soon eating our first Ainu meal. It was
now snowing hard outside and we hugged the fire all the afternoon,
while the villagers brought in all kinds of articles for sale. During
the afternoon fresh venison was brought in and our evening stew was
rice (secured somewhere, somehow) and deer-meat. It was interesting
to watch the children of the two families quarrel over a deer-bone,
fresh and bloody, which they took turns in sucking and in picking off
shreds of raw meat. This house, though a true Ainu hut, is mission
headquarters, and under outside influences a corner of it has been
walled off into a sleeping room for Tunkamareg and his wife. This
room Charenga surrendered to us for the night. In it was one of Mr.
Batchelor’s little stoves, but it smoked badly; the night was cold
and the room draughty, yet on the whole we were more comfortable when
the fire went out. All night we suffered from the bitter cold.

[Illustration: TYPICAL AINU HOUSE: SHIRAOI.]

We were up early and left betimes. The only sled that could be
secured was too small to do more than take our baggage, increased
as it was by purchases! So we walked. Mr. Batchelor, more accustomed
to this exercise and to Japan’s atmosphere and with little on his
bones to carry, kept up a lively pace; Manuel did fairly; but the
“leader” of the expedition played out completely before he reached
Porosaru, by which time the party was strung out in three sections,
along a couple of miles or so of road. It was with joy that he
finally met an Ainu boy, with a little sled for dragging wood,
who bore a written message stating that he was in our employ! At
Porosaru the party was reunited and we made a visit of ceremony at
the rather large house of an Ainu of consequence. We entered through
the south door and were seated upon handsome mattings, which were
folded and laid upon boxes at the east end of the fireplace. Here we
photographed the interior of the hut, but our negative was bad; it
was a pity, for the northeast corner full of treasures was fine. We
had better success in photographing a Japanese lacquered tray, upon
which, wrapped in _inao_ shavings, were three skulls—those of an
otter, a fox, and an albatross.

[Illustration: MOUSTACHE LIFTERS OR LIBATION STICKS.]

Our driver, acting under instructions, had hurried on to Neptani,
where he had aroused the village, making an especial search for
moustache sticks, with designs in high relief. His search had been
rewarded and we carried away two—both, unfortunately, lacquered, but
well made. One of them bore the figure of a bear in full relief
about an inch high, in front of which was a swimming whale; the
other bore three mountains. He had other things awaiting inspection,
too—fine dresses, necklaces, swords, and scabbards, carved
tobacco-boxes, and the like. We took in a rich harvest, but what
pleased us most after the two moustache sticks, was a fine fetish
bird-skull wrapped in _inao_ shavings. This was the third example
of its kind that we had seen. The first was at Piratori, where
the wrapped skull belonged to a woman who was “in an interesting
condition,” and we thought it unwise to offer to make the purchase;
the second was at the house of Porosaru, where the skulls were so
carefully guarded and apparently so highly prized, that we did not
hint at purchase; here the skull had been lately used and we could
see the spot from which bone powder had been scraped for use as a
remedy. The house belonged to particular friends of Mr. Batchelor,
and after little demur, we carried the skull away in triumph.

Perhaps the moustache lifter is peculiar to the Ainu. At any rate,
it is characteristic of them, and upon it they lavish their utmost
artistic efforts. It is a thin, flat stick, measuring some eight,
ten, or twelve inches in length by about an inch in width; the ends
are angular, one being broadly obtuse, almost squared, and the other
sharpened to almost a real point. The upper surface is carved with
decorative designs, the work in some cases being admirable. The
patterns are, mostly, curved-line conventions. Recent specimens
are all carved in low relief; some of the older ones bear full
round figures. Usually made in plain wood of light color, they were
sometimes turned over to Japanese neighbors to be lacquered. These
curious sticks serve a double purpose; the sharper end is dipped into
saké or millet beer, and then drops are sprinkled from it to divine
beings, in drinking, on ceremonial occasions. On such occasions the
cups of drink are set out upon the ground before the guests, with
moustache sticks laid across them. The art of carving these sticks
is now neglected and the finer specimens are all old. The old artist
used to leave his mark cut on the under side—some simple device, as
a triangle, some crossing lines, etc. These moustache sticks had a
great attraction for us and we secured scores of them. Most of my
finest specimens bear the same maker’s mark, a simple, unequally
impressed, solid triangle, apparently made with a punch. While such
moustache lifters figure generally on ceremonial occasions, there
is also a special ceremonial type. It is whittled from fresh wood;
no decorative designs are carved upon it, but rolls of shavings are
whittled up at three places on the upper side.

At the house where we had stopped, lived a paralytic. On our arrival
we had dismissed our little wood sled and our old driver had
arranged for two good sleds with boxes. When we were ready to start,
we found we were not to be alone. Our driver took an Ainu woman and
all the luggage into his sled; into the other, we packed a company
consisting of the driver, a fine bearded subject, the paralytic, two
women, Manuel and myself. We expected Mr. Batchelor also, but when he
saw the prospects, he sniffed in derision and stalked off down the
road. Our driver was a fine type, but he was stupid and careless.
We were going gaily, packed as close as sardines in a box, when in
crossing a little brook, we struck some obstacle and were all spilled
out onto the snow. Fortunately none of us fell into the brook and
no one was hurt. We picked up the paralytic and put him into the
sled, repacked ourselves and were off again. We soon overtook Mr.
Batchelor, readjusted the two loads, taking him in, and went on.
Before long we were again at the Saru River, and crossing on foot,
over the ice, were at Upper Piratori at four o’clock.

[Illustration: SANGYEA.]

We found that the old man refused to go with us. He was too old
and frail to make so long and difficult a journey. Kutoroge had,
however, picked out a man at Lower Piratori, whom he had persuaded
to go, taking his wife and little girl. They were submitted to our
inspection and proved highly satisfactory. Sangyea has graying
hair, a gray beard, and a patriarchal aspect; he wears great
hoop earrings and a well embroidered ceremonial garment. Santukno,
his wife, is charmingly ugly, with a broad and heavy lower face,
prominent jaws, and a fine tattooing on face and arms. She is a kind
soul and suffers from a curious nervous trouble, which they call
_imu_ and which seems somewhat mysterious. Those who are _imu_ are
terribly afraid of snakes, and the sight of one, or even mention
of one, throws them into a state of rigidity. Certain words or
sounds have a similar effect. When the subjects are in this abnormal
condition, they lose their self-control and mumble or grimace and are
apt to do the opposite of what they are ordered.

In the evening, after another treat to coffee and tea cakes at Miss
Bryant’s, we went to Kutoroge’s house to draw up the necessary
documents. The old man and Kutoroge received us in a stately manner.
We went into the front room, for the house has two, the _shem_ being,
apparently, an old house, and squatted down in two facing lines—Mr.
Batchelor, Manuel, and I, facing the clerk, the policeman, Kutoroge,
Shutratek, Sangyea, and Santukno. We all went through the formal
salutations of hand-rubbing, hand-waving, and beard-stroking. I then
paid one month’s full salary in advance. The clerk drew up formal
receipts, which were signed, sealed, and witnessed. The necessary
data were taken down for securing legal applications for passports to
leave the country.

[Illustration: SANTUKNO.]

All formalities having been thus observed, we were ready to leave.
Money was supplied for securing the necessary equipment for the
house at Saint Louis and for bringing all to the railroad and we
told them when they must appear at Sapporo. In the morning, our only
conveyances were two small-box, single-horse, two-wheeled carts.
One of these we loaded full with our baggage. Into the other Manuel
and I crowded ourselves, sitting on the board bottom, with our legs
stretched stiffly crosswise of the cart. When Mr. Batchelor chose
to ride, we all three adopted some sort of a kneeling or crouching
position. Progress was slow and uncomfortable. Sometimes we stopped
to make photographs, and on one such stop were able to test this
statement in Mr. Batchelor’s book: “They cut the fat part of the legs
of both males and females at the joint near the pelvis, and then bind
the wound up with the leather-like layers of the fungus mycelium
found between the bark and the wood of dead oak, elm, or ash trees.”
I had been questioning him about this practice, raising a query as to
its purpose and its generality. As we were passing through a village,
we met a woman with a baby in her arms, and Mr. Batchelor inquired
of her in regard to it. After a little hesitation, she showed me the
baby, a little girl perhaps less than a year old. It had been cut
only on the left side, back on the inside of the leg, just below the
buttocks. The cut had healed, but the scar was quite plain. The
woman said they do it with babies that kick and squirm too much.
While the practice is probably not general it is certainly common and
widespread, occurring in several, if not all, villages.

Our progress was so desperately slow that, by the time we reached
Sarabuto, we had almost given up hope of reaching Azuma for the
night. We were taking tea and cakes at the little tea-house, when a
_basha_ came along making its homeward journey empty. We gladly hired
it, taking some luggage into it with us and dividing the rest between
the two carts. We then rode away in comparative comfort and at a much
improved speed. From Mukawa, we walked a little to stretch our legs,
but then rode steadily on to Azuma, arriving at about four o’clock.
The luggage came in later. We were impressed by the preparations
the little town was making against Russian attack. The four Russian
gunboats are being watched for. Seven men patrol the coast day and
night. At a signal of two bells from the tower, the women, the aged,
and the helpless are to flee for shelter inland; at four strokes
every able-bodied man and boy is to seize the nearest thing that can
serve as a weapon and rush to meet the enemy. And no doubt similar
arrangements of desperate bravery are being made at every miserable
fishing village along this coast!

In the morning we took the _basha_ of yesterday and a second one for
luggage and started early. It was bitterly cold and from time to time
we ran to warm our feet. At Yubutsu we turned directly from the sea
and struck for the little station of Numanohata. Here at 9.40 a. m.
we took train for Sapporo, where we had to spend a few days, packing,
completing preparations, and waiting for our people. Here I had the
opportunity of examining the Japanese books and manuscripts relative
to the Ainu, in the governmental library of the Hokkaido. The
Japanese have been much interested in the Ainu and have written many
works about them. Most famous and best known is the _San Goku Tsuran
Zusetsu_, by a Rin Shihei. It was published in 1785 and consists of a
volume of text and five volumes of maps. It is more commonly found in
manuscript than printed. It is abundantly illustrated with pictures
of men and women, dress, ornaments, tools, and scenes of daily life.
In one picture three Ainu boys are playing the game of “javelin and
ring,” but instead of using javelins are piercing the rolling ring
with arrows shot from bows. In a family scene, the father smokes a
pipe, but looks around for a moment at the baby, who seems to point
reproachfully at his mother, who is giving her breast to the bear
cub and not to him; in a cage near by is a captive bird, perhaps
an eagle, waiting sacrifice. In still another picture, the hunter,
from his canoe on the sea, hurls a harpoon at a seal. The drawings
of articles are carefully made and serve well for comparison with
modern specimens. On the whole the book gives interesting information
regarding the Ainu of one hundred and twenty years ago. The most
diligent of the Japanese writers about the Ainu, however, is Matsuura
Takeshiro, a geographer, who made a loving study of the island of
Yezo, publishing many books between 1850 and 1865. He takes each
section of the island in detail and describes it from the points of
view of topography, flora, fauna, and ethnology. Almost all of his
many books are illustrated and the pictures are often strikingly
true to life. Takeshiro was a skillful artist and sometimes painted
_kakemono_, or hanging scrolls, with Ainu scenes. One of these is
now owned by Professor Miyabe, the accomplished botanist of the
agricultural college at Sapporo. It is a simple picture, of few
lines and delicate coloring, but it is living. It represents Ainu in
boats on the sea gathering kelp. The picture is an heirloom, having
been given to Professor Miyabe’s father by the artist, who was his
friend. At the house of Mr. Ishikara, a mining engineer to whom I
had been recommended, I was shown some manuscript maps made by the
old geographer. They are marvels of patient work and surpass in
their enormous amount of detail in the matter of local place-names.
Among the pictures in Takeshiro’s books we have excellent material
regarding the Ainu of a half century ago. My own interest in these
Japanese books relative to Ainu began in 1891 at the little Museum
of Rotterdam in Holland; it had been nourished by MacRitchie’s book,
_The Ainos_, which depended absolutely upon such books for its
material; it now flamed and during my brief stay in Japan I brought
together quite a library of such books. I now know of more than forty
_printed_ Japanese works that treat of the Ainu, most of which are
in my collection. But the printed books are but a small part of the
material representing Japanese observation. Many more than forty
works still exist only in manuscript, some probably in but a single
copy. There are at Sapporo a goodly number of such manuscripts, among
them one so beautifully and delicately illustrated that I have had
both texts and pictures carefully copied. At Hakodate and at Tokio
are many more of these unpublished manuscripts, some of which surely
deserve publication. We cherish the hope of finding some one who
will help us to put some of these quaint and interesting books into
print. To be sure, those without pictures would mean nothing to the
English reader, but, until they are in print and accessible, they
mean nothing to the students of Japan.

Among these works are many which narrate the wars between the Ainu
and the Japanese. To-day, recognizing the passive and too yielding
nature of the Ainu, it is difficult to imagine them as warlike. In
hunting, it is true, they are brave enough, even reckless. But,
if they were ever warriors, they are to-day a broken-spirited and
subdued people. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
according to Japanese accounts, they were great fighters. Even the
names of some great chiefs and descriptions of their deeds of bravery
are consigned to writing.

The Ainu were the old population of Japan and probably occupied all
the islands, even down to Kiushiu, the southmost. Over the whole
area Ainu names are sprinkled. Even the name of sacred Fuji-san, the
divine mountain, seems to be Ainu. As the ancestors of the Japanese
entered Japan from the south, they drove back the unhappy Ainu
before them. The encroachment was gradual, but constant; little by
little the Ainu retreated to the north. Not very long ago there were
still many in the northern part of the main island; to-day there
are none. Yezo, the Kurils, and Saghalien (now Russian territory)
were their final strongholds. But now Yezo is filling with vigorous,
incoming Japanese, before whom undoubtedly the Ainu must yield. His
little villages, sprinkled here and there over the island, along
the river-courses or on the sea coast, will disappear. His life of
hunting and fishing is already almost a thing of the past. To-day
the Ainu is “a ward,” to be guarded by a paternal government, to be
“elevated” by civilization. He is forbidden to make arrow poison, he
is subject to game laws, he may no longer have his girls tattooed,
he must send the children to school, he must learn “the ways of
industry,” and till the soil; it is the old story. We know it as
Japan does. We, too, have wards to be “improved.”

Our Ainu party duly appeared with bag and baggage. They reported
that, at their leaving, there was a gathering of the village and much
weeping, since they were looked upon as dead men never again to be
seen in the old home. We had learned immediately on our return to
Sapporo that Bete Goro was _anxious_ to go with us, but had hesitated
about taking him. Goro is young, shaves, wears Europeanized, not to
say Japanized, clothing. To be sure, he still wears Ainu leggings
with fine embroidery. He is dreadfully conventional; instead of
whittling _inao_, he knits stockings! Now, all this is highly
commendable, but it is no qualification for figuring in an Ainu group
at the Exposition. But, Goro was lively and happy and anxious to go.
That was something, and we believed his influence would do much to
cheer the somewhat morose Yazo, the timid Shirake, and the group that
were mourned as dead. So we decided he should go. We should leave his
wife, daughter of old Penri’s widow, behind, in expectation of an
event of importance to the Ainu community. Mr. Batchelor was asked
to communicate the decision, and Goro was summoned to his study. A
moment later Mr. Batchelor called us to see “what ails this crazy
fellow.” Goro, who had seated himself upon the floor, was beside
himself with joy. He hugged himself, chuckled, laughed, swayed from
side to side, literally rolled upon the floor. With his accession our
party was complete. Nine Ainu made up the group—old Sangyea, his wife
Santukno, their little daughter Kin, Kutoroge the bear-hunter, his
wife Shitratek, and their baby girl Kiko, Yazo, his wife Shirake, and
Bete Goro. We marched the whole company to the police station, where
they were identified, their documents examined and passports issued
permitting them to leave Japan with us.

We had, however, during this time at Sapporo, made one side trip.
Piratori and the other Saru towns were so far from the railroad
that it had seemed best not to bring an Ainu house from there. So
we again took the railroad, passed Tomakomai and Numanohita, and
got off the train at Shiraoi, a railroad town of considerable size.
The part of the town along the track is Japanese. The Ainu portion,
forming perhaps two-thirds of the whole town, lies between the
Japanese quarter and the sea. Old Parapita had already been sent
to find a house and, promptly on our arrival, the village chief
Shupanram took us to the one selected. It was small, but typical;
the shem, however, was less than of normal size, so we bought a
second very small house to supply material for a _shem_ of normal
proportions in Saint Louis. The two houses together cost forty
yen (twenty dollars, U. S. currency) and we ordered twenty yen’s
worth more of thatching. The chief summoned laborers, men, women
and children, the people who had been living in our house, moved
out at once, and the work of demolition began. We then took a walk
through the town. In some respects it is unlike the Saru River
villages and is, perhaps, typical of seaside towns within reach of
Japanese influence. The houses are massed quite closely together;
many—most of them—are protected or sheltered by breaks or guards of
bamboo, built especially at the west doorway; there was an almost
complete absence of storehouses—such a conspicuous feature in the
Saru villages. But there seems to be the same care in location with
regard to the east and west, the same relative position of _nusa_,
east window, sacred corner, and _shem_. The Ainu here are fine types.
Tall, well-built men are common, one might say, the rule. The average
difference of stature between males of Shiraoi and the Saru towns is
certainly considerable. Mr. Batchelor tells me that the people of
the northern towns near the western coast, as Ishikari, are shorter
than those at Piratori. While the stature at Shiraoi is great, the
heavy growth of body hair and the great beards are as at Piratori.
Notwithstanding Japanese neighbors and the railroad the people at
Shiraoi are conservative, and dress, ornament, utensils, and customs
might be studied here as well as in some more remote villages. The
life is undoubtedly influenced by the location of the village at
the seashore, but we had no opportunity to study what peculiarities
might be due to that. _Nusas_ are fine and numerous, and there are
bear skulls on many of them. Here we noticed more conspicuously than
elsewhere a secondary _nusa_, or rather a little group of _inao_
stuck into a hillock made of the refuse from the millet-mortar. More
than ever, too, were we impressed with the coyote-like appearance of
the dogs, which were here numerous.

We had observed two or three men passing, dressed in ceremonial
costume and wearing crowns. Crowns with bearheads carved from wood
occur here, as elsewhere, but crowns decorated with real bear claws,
one or two, in place of the carved head of wood, are common. Learning
that a drinking festival was in progress, we went to the place. It
was truly an astonishing and impressive sight. Everything in the
house was decorated with _inao_ shavings. The sacred east window
and the treasure corner were hung with them. Along the two sides of
the fireplace were squatted eleven or twelve old men, all wearing
their embroidered ceremonial costumes and their crowns. All held
moustache-lifters in their hands and before some of them stood cups
of millet beer. Four freshly cut _inao_ were set in line west of the
fireplace; next came three skulls wrapped in _inao_ shavings, in
a tray; next were two high _inao_ and a large bowl of millet-beer.
When we entered, all the old men stroked their beards. The leader of
the feast sat in the middle of the line, at the fireplace, with a
bowl of millet beer before him. He went through the whole elaborate
salutation to Mr. Batchelor and then to me. A second old man did the
same. The master of the feast then offered to make libation and drink
in Mr. Batchelor’s honor, which offer was refused; a similar offer
to me was refused by proxy. The feast was then resumed. Two or three
young men were assisting, bringing beer, and otherwise serving. A cup
of beer was passed out through the east window to someone outside,
and we withdrew to see what was done there. Three blackbeards were
worshiping. One took an _inao_ from a pile of stakes, where it had
stood and bore it to the east window; a servant, inside, passed out a
bowl of beer; the carrier of the _inao_, taking the moustache-lifter
that lay across the cup, dipped it and sprinkled the _inao_. He then
carried this to the _nusa_, and placed it in position. The other two
had remained standing at the east window; the bearer, returning,
took his place between the others, one of whom now received a
cup of millet beer and a moustache-stick from the man inside; he
sprinkled both of his companions and spilled a little of the drink
upon the ground; the second then received a cup and stick and did
the same; the third, the central one, who had placed the _inao_,
then received the cup and made libation, but did not sprinkle his
companions. All three then walked to the _nusa_ and sprinkled drops
with the moustache-stick. All of this was done with great decorum
and seriousness and was accompanied by prayer. We would gladly have
seen the remainder of this festival, but could not stay. The three
negatives we made of it were all failures. The ceremonial was to
secure fine weather; it had long been bad and a change was greatly
desired. The prayers seem to have been efficacious, for the next day
dawned gloriously.

We were excellently treated by the chief, who ordered articles
brought in for sale, and who at last, with extraordinary amiability,
allowed us to examine the holiest of holies, the household _inao_,
which stands in the extreme northeast corner of the house and
ought never to be removed. It is an upright stick to which loose
_inao_ curls are hung, from time to time, until the mass becomes
great. It represents the spirit of the house and, underneath the
mass of pendant curls, a notch is cut into which a coal from the
hearth, called “the heart,” is bound. This was brought out for our
inspection and we were even allowed to look at the place of “the
heart.” The coal itself was gone, though the notch, blackened by
the heat, remained, and a new heart was to be inserted at the next
extraordinary festival of the house. Now passing outside, we found
the house, which we had purchased, a wreck. A crowd of men, women,
and children were engaged in wrapping, cording, and moving the
materials to the station. It was evening, and, as we were very tired,
we betook ourselves to the house of the local catechist, a Japanese,
where we ate and slept.

We had brought Mr. Inagaki with us, whose services as interpreter and
caretaker of the Ainu, we had been so fortunate as to secure. The
people speak no English, of course, but they all know some Japanese;
Mr. Inagaki speaks Japanese and English. Born in southern Japan, he
is studying for the Episcopal ministry at the theological school at
Tokio, where he is well thought of by Bishop McKim. His health broke
down, and, forced to discontinue study for a time, he was furloughed
to Yezo, where it was hoped that outdoor life would do him good. He
is willing and competent. When we left in the morning, he remained
to superintend the shipment of the house to Muroran, coming up to
Sapporo on the afternoon train. We had been promised a war-club, but
could not secure it last night, as it was in the house where the
feast was in progress. In the cold, fresh, bright morning, we walked
out to secure it. It was a fine old specimen, well cut, with the
inset piece of iron still in place, black with the accumulated dirt
and smoke of years, and tied around with fresh _inao_ shavings in
honor of yesterday’s feast. At the last moment the owner repented
and hesitated about selling. But we secured it and hurried in
triumph to our train. There is no equally good specimen at the Tokio
University, nor in the Sapporo Museum and we might look long for
another so good.

[Illustration: OLD WAR CLUB: SHIRAOI.]

At last, on Monday, March 7, all was ready, and our party—nine Ainu,
one Japanese, one Mexican, and one American,—started for the train.
Mr. Batchelor went with us to the station to bid us Godspeed. Friends
were gathered there, in genuine Japanese style, to see us off. Mr.
Bell, a missionary friend whose acquaintance dated back to America;
Mr. Fujimura, Mr. Ishikara, Professor Miyabe—all with best wishes.
We were soon upon our way, and reached Muroran shortly after noon.
The Maruichi Hotel was all excitement over soldiers expected in on
a boat at evening. There had been stormy weather and quantities
of passengers were waiting, and everything except third-class
accommodations on the outgoing boat was sold. We decided to wait
and see what would be done with the steamer, which was to bring the
soldiers and over which the company had no control, as it was in the
power of the War Department. If it should be released we could go on
it late to-night; otherwise, we must wait until to-morrow night. Mr.
Batchelor had sent word of our coming to the local catechist, who
had already received our freight, house and household stuff, and had
shipped them for Aomori; they were already loaded and would leave
upon the regular night’s boat.

Having done all the business possible, we went to see an old man who
had a little collection of Stone Age relics, which he had gathered
at Cape Edomo, near by. There were a couple of dozen arrowheads,
small, and of various forms and sizes, neatly chipped from obsidian,
jasper and horn-stone; there were nine celts or polished blades,
with good edge, made of several kinds of heavy, compact, hard stone;
one of these made of a light green material showed marks of having
been sawed from a block of stone; there was also a block of this
same stone showing clear signs of sawing; there were two of the saws
that did such cutting, crude things but showing plain signs of use,
quite large, thin splinters of a hard and tough material with one
side developed into a narrow cutting edge, striated by sand grains.
The old man did not much care to sell, but we desired something to
represent the Stone Age of Japan, and he finally did so, at a price,
which would soon lead to bankruptcy, if we continued in the market.

Who were the makers of these early relics? For some time back we
have been attracted by the theories of Morse, Milne, Hitchcock and
others, that there was a Pre-Ainu race in Japan, which produced these
stone objects and heaped up the shell-heaps found at many places.
It is indeed hard to reconcile their writings and make a harmonious
whole out of their material. Still we had finally reached the
conclusion that there have been three populations of Japan. _First_,
the pre-Ainu aborigines, pit-dwellers, called “earth spiders,” or
“earth hiders.” The evidence for their existence, Morse’s shell-heaps
at Omori with crude pottery and signs of cannibalism, the pits so
common in Yezo and unquestionably marking ancient dwelling-sites,
Hitchcock’s living “pit-dwellers” at Shikotan, some references in
old Japanese chronicles and Ainu legends, and the fact (asserted by
Basil Hall Chamberlain) of unanalyzed place-names in Yezo. _Second_,
the Ainu coming from the north and penetrating far south, though
ever more numerous in the north. _Third_, the Japanese coming from
the south and driving the Ainu northward, coming here and there in
contact with such aborigines as had escaped destruction at the hands
of the Ainu.

The Ainu legends are curious. One of them is given by Mr. Batchelor
as follows: “In very ancient times a race of people who dwelt in
pits lived among us. They were so very tiny that ten of them could
easily take shelter beneath one burdock leaf. When they went to catch
herrings they used to make boats by sewing the leaves of bamboo grass
together, and always fished with a hook. If a single herring was
caught it took all the men of five boats, or even ten sometimes, to
hold it and drag it ashore, while crowds were required to kill it
with their clubs and spears. Yet strange to say these little men used
even to kill great whales. Surely, these pit-dwellers were gods.”

Now, of course, we never believed in any such _Koropok-guru_. But
we had been impressed by the arguments and we had been greatly
interested, at Yokohama, in a chart or diagram, which a friend had
shown us, in which a reconstruction of the life of this “earliest
race of Japan” was attempted. We were especially astonished at the
detailed information regarding the dress of the _Koropok guru_, which
the chart seemed to show. Later, in Tokio, at the University, Prof.
Tsuboi showed us some ancient clay figures of human beings and it
was clear that the author of the chart had gained his ideas of dress
from these. And in the presence of this instructive chart and the
evidence shown me by this learned Professor my first doubts regarding
their theory arose. Surely the shell-heaps, the crude pottery, the
stone tools, and the old pit-houses were never made by people,
who dressed as those represented in these figures. To-day, we feel
somewhat skeptical with reference to the whole theory of a pre-Ainu
race. Hitchcock’s pit dwellers of Shikotan are Ainu pure and simple.
In some Ainu towns, particularly in Saghalien, individuals to-day
make pit-houses. Mr. Batchelor claims now to be able to analyze all
Yezo place-names; we tried him on twenty taken consecutively from
a chance part of Chamberlain’s lists and he explained all to our
satisfaction. There is good evidence that the Ainu have known the art
of pottery and in their legends references are made to the practice
of cannibalism (points important against Prof. Morse’s argument).
While still open to argument, we now incline to consider the Ainu the
aboriginal population of Japan. Various other elements undoubtedly
exist among the population, especially Corean, but on the whole there
have been but two widespread populations—Ainu and Japanese—and for us
these old stone relics from Cape Edomo are Ainu things.

The war steamer came at evening with six hundred men and thirty
officers. The latter all came to the Maruichi Hotel and we were all
confusion. To our disappointment we learned that the War Department
would retain the vessel and that no passengers could be taken. As
suddenly as they had come and with no information as to their further
movements, the soldiers and officers left at nine o’clock and we
were again in peace. We were told that another steamer was expected
in the early morning and that we might possibly get off on it instead
of waiting until night. Expecting that we might be called at six we
went at once to bed. Suddenly, we were roused from our slumber, and,
after hastily dressing, were hustled down to the shore, from which
we were rowed out through the darkness to the Taconoura Maru. To our
surprise we found that it was now but eleven o’clock and were soon
again in bed. We started in the early morning and were at Hakodate
in time to hear the noon gun, leaving again at two o’clock. Goro,
our happy Goro, and two of the women were seasick. Up to Hakodate we
had plenty of room and all was comfortable, but at that port many
passengers embarked and the whole ship was disagreeably crowded. It
was too cold to stay on deck much, but we could see as we sailed
along the Yezo coast that there was much less snow than when we
made our up-journey. It was cold and rainy when, at nine o’clock,
we anchored in Aomori harbor and were landed, amid hubbub and
confusion, by the little boat. The next day we found that the annual
snow-cleaning was in progress and everywhere the great drifts in the
streets were being cut down. We saw, too, what had been unimagined
in our earlier visit, that every street has an open waterway for
carrying off the melting snow. We stayed at Aomori long enough to
reship our freight and took two nights instead of one on our way to
Tokio, stopping off some hours, between trains, at Sendai. Railroad
operations had been affected somewhat by the movement of troops and
supplies. Not only were there fewer trains, but running time was
longer, thirty-six hours instead of twenty between Aomori and Tokio.

At Tokio, young Mr. Yamada, from Mr. Clement’s school, met us at the
station and told us that arrangements for board and lodging had been
made for the Ainu at a place near the school. He also said: “The boys
will invite the Ainu people to our house to-night.” This we really
did not understand until near evening Mr. Clement told us that the
boys were arranging a reception and that we were all invited. It
is the school’s custom to hold some social function every Saturday
evening. At half past seven, Madam Clement, Mr. Clement, Mr. Root,
Manuel and I went to the school assembly room, where the boys were
gathered. At the proper time the Ainu appeared, dressed in their new
Japanese garments (the first purchases with their month’s advance)
and were seated together upon a bench half facing the audience. We
were given chairs of honor in front, to the left of the leader. The
boys of the school, to the number of about thirty, and Mr. Inagaki
formed the audience. The program and idea of the reception were
entirely original to the boys. The reception was opened by prayer
and a religious song; an address of welcome was then given by one
of the older boys and Yazo gave a response; the boys then sang a
religious song in Japanese and Goro one in Ainu; the boys followed
with one or two addresses and Kutoroge was given his turn—he became
stage-frightened and had to be represented by Yazo. The orator of
the day, a graduate of the school and now attending the Methodist
college, then made a brilliant address, which abounded in pathetic
and emotional passages, and was well-received; as this was plainly
addressed to me, he was asked to make an English translation,
in which the oratory lost something, but the meaning was clear
enough—“he recognizes that in the past the treatment of the Ainu
by his own people has not always been what it should, but that the
sympathy and love of the boys of the school goes with the Ainu in
their long journey; that they hope I will treat them well and see
that others do the same; that they hope for their safe return; be
good to the Ainu.” To all of which I made a brief response, thanking
the boys for their interest and sympathy and for their thoughtful
and hearty way of showing them. After singing a final hymn, they
passed around little sacks of cakes to each boy as his part of the
feast. Meantime the Ainu and I were taken to a table, which we just
filled when we sat down together, with me at the head. We were then
bountifully served by the boys to tea and cakes. At the beginning
the Ainu were a little restrained, but when they found that the
supply was ample, they not only ate and drank astonishingly well,
but laid by for future needs, as if they doubted whether so good a
chance would come again. The other guests, though treated with less
distinguished consideration were not neglected. When we left the boys
saw us off with lighted lanterns and we felt that their reception had
been a great success.

Mr. Inagaki was deeply touched and must have painted the reception
in glowing colors, because an invitation came for the Ainu to visit
St. Margaret’s Girls School on Monday afternoon. I was overwhelmed
with work and had to go to Yokohama in the morning. However taking
the noon train for Tokio, and hastening from the station to Tsukiji,
I was at the school by the appointed hour. But it was a case of the
play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out. Bishop McKim, Mr. Tucker, the
Japanese principal, Mr. Inagaki, and one hundred and sixty Japanese
girls were there and waiting; but the Ainu did not come. We waited,
and waited, and to fill the time I told the girls something about
Ainu life. At last we gave it up and the affair was postponed until
the morrow. Inquiry found that they had not come because Shirake had
a cold! The next day all except the invalid were present and the
affair was reported to have been a great success. I was unable to be
present.

Japan is up to date and the newspaper reporter knows his business.
Though we were far from the centre of the city and had been quiet
in our movements, the presence of the Ainu in the city and their
location were announced in one of the papers. The result was that
Tuperek appeared. And who was Tuperek? Old Sangyea’s son. We had
never heard of him before and it was a long time since his father
had heard from him. He had seen the newspaper notice and called
and had an affecting interview. He is shrewd and knows something
of white men as well as of Japanese. He is employed upon one of
the “yellow journals” of Tokio. For some time he lived with Mr.
Batchelor and, perhaps under his influence, has been stimulated to
write a book of Ainu stories, which he plans to publish. He is a
well-grown, strongly-built fellow of perhaps thirty years; he dresses
in Japanese costume and shaves, but the heavy stubble on his face
and the straight eyes are Ainu. The night before the party left for
Yokohama he called upon us with his father; he begged to be taken to
the Exposition; as they sat upon the floor before us, they wept as
they pleaded. We ventured various objections, for all of which he had
an answer. There was no time to get his passport and other documents;
he would secure them and come along upon the next boat. He could not
get into America, without us; oh, yes! he was connected with the
Salvation Army, it could easily arrange that matter. As for his
appearance, he knew that it was against him but he still had an Ainu
costume and his beard would soon grow!

[Illustration: AINU IN CEREMONIAL DRESS: SHIRAOI.]

In the morning, we took the party to Yokohama, leaving them with Mr.
Inagaki, to see the company’s doctor and the wharf doctor, to be
inspected, bathed and fumigated and to secure their certificates for
embarkation; a full day was none too much. As for us, between tickets
and baggage, arranging for the shipment of the house and household
stuff, and a hundred other things, we were kept swinging between
Tokio and Yokohama. But at last all was done and on the morning of
March 18, our whole party were aboard the Empress of Japan, upon
which a little separate steerage had been rigged up for the Ainu
where we believed they would be happier and more secluded than in the
common steerage. On the voyage all were seasick except the two older
men and the two babies. They probably suffered keenly. At all events,
we are told that the words they use in describing their sufferings
are of the most emphatic.

On the night of the 28th of March, we had the usual entertainment in
the cabin. There were many Japanese passengers upon the list and,
besides the usual music and recitations, we were favored with some
Japanese sleight-of-hand performances, and an instrumental solo on
a strange Japanese wind instrument. The proceeds of the sale of
souvenir programs were to be given to the Japanese fund for wounded
soldiers. As evidence of their appreciation of this act, the Japanese
at the close of the program distributed souvenirs to all the other
passengers,— a pretty fan, a bit of silk, a piece of lacquer. We were
invited to contribute a part to the program by bringing in the Ainu
and making an address about them. The address was well received but
gave occasion to a little sparring. We did not see the program until
it was printed and then found that we were announced to present a
“short description of the Aino, followed by an Aino bear-dance by
three of the tribe on board.” Our people were in ceremonial dress
and made a fine appearance. We described the physical type, the
tattooing, the dress and the salutations, after which Sangyea and
Kutoroge gave a _yukara_ and we made some remarks about the problem
of Ainu origin and relationship.

Had we seen the program, we should not have permitted the word
_Aino_ to appear upon it; nor should we have allowed announcement
of a “bear-dance” of which we never heard. It is true that there is
dancing at bear-feasts but that is different from having a dance that
is called a bear-dance. As to the name of our people it is not Aino,
but _Ainu_, which is a word in their own language meaning man. The
Ainu are “men”—i. e. _the_ men. It is a common thing for people in a
certain stage of culture to name themselves in this way. The Eskimo
call themselves _innuit_, “man”; the Moki Indians of Arizona, call
themselves _hopi_, “men”; and the Delaware Indians called themselves
_Lenni Lenape_, “men of men.” The word Aino is neither an Ainu nor
a Japanese word; it approaches the Japanese word _ino_, “dog,” and
there is no doubt that this similarity shades the word when used by
the Japanese, to whom the Ainu often are as “dogs” and who have a
legend that the Ainu are really the offspring of a woman and a dog.
From the Ainu point of view the word Aino is a reproach and they
resent it. While it occurs in many books, there is already ample
authority in practice for using the proper form Ainu, which should
absolutely supplant the other. The matter is of sufficient importance
to have called for government ruling and in official documents Ainu
is to-day _de rigeur_. In calling attention to this matter, we
inadvertently offended both English and Japanese passengers, who had
worded the program.

The _yukara_ are curious and interesting but are rarely, if ever,
mentioned in the books. They are ancient war-songs and we only knew
that a manuscript collection of them exists in the library at Mito.
On inquiring of our men, we learned that they knew many _yukara_, so
one day upon the voyage we went down to hear our first one. Kutoroge
was singer; Sangyea beat the time. They seated themselves side by
side upon the floor. Kutoroge began to sing in a low voice; single
words were long drawn out and interrupted with curious throat
gurglings; the singing of a single line of words was a matter of time
and great apparent effort. Sangyea struck one stick against another,
and from time to time gave a cry as if to excite the other’s courage.
Kutoroge grew louder and the encouragement was more frequent and
pronounced, until both were wrought up to a considerable pitch of
excitement.

It was after sunset, on March 29th, that we sighted land. The line
of hills was but dimly visible in the low hanging evening haze.
Our people were all below but we called them to the deck. It took
a moment for the first-comers to recognize what we were showing
them, but then their cries, not at all loud, brought up the others
promptly. Sangyea first and then Kutoroge ceremoniously seated
themselves facing the shore and in silence rubbed their hands, waved
them, and stroked their beards, in thanksgiving and worship. Having
made this usual salutation, they raised their hands into the air with
the palms toward the land line and though we could not hear their
voices, we believe they prayed.

At daylight we were plowing through the waters of the Sound. From
Victoria a few hours brought us to Vancouver, where everything
amused and interested our people. Inspected by one physician at
Victoria, by another at Vancouver, and by a third in the office of
the United States Immigration Bureau on the Vancouver dock, they
must have wondered what it all meant. We are sure _we_ did and we do
not hesitate to say that of all foolish pretense at science these
inspections deserve the premium. We refrain from detailing their
method, but will only say that each of the three pursued a different
procedure and that the third one examined only the eyes. They were
all three personally polite and kind, but the whole thing is a farce.
The immigration officers, among whom we found a friend, Colonel
Albert Whyte, were most polite and put us to as little trouble and
delay as possible. After our immigration certificates were issued
we waited some little time for the Doctor and as the people were
extremely tired they seated themselves in the office. Little Kiko was
hungry and Shutratek, like a good mother, was doing her natural duty
by the baby. The Secretary of the Japanese Consul had come in to see
the Ainu; he was all smiles and friendliness until he saw Shutratek
and the baby. His rebuke was vigorous and probably the poor woman was
warned against future public care of her baby. The Japanese are all
fearful lest we shall make the error of thinking that the Ainu are
their ancestors or that we shall suppose the Japanese culture has
come out from Ainu! This sensitiveness we have seen on many occasions.

[Illustration: SHUTRATEK.]

We were obliged to spend two nights in Vancouver. The first night we
left the people on the steamer, taking them on shore, however, for a
walk in the early evening. Many things interested them, but nothing
more than a stuffed elk in a corner window. Kutoroge looked at it
from every point of view, then heaved a sigh and asked where such
were found alive. We gestured expansively that they lived in all the
country around. He shook his head expressively and said he’d like to
hunt such deer as that.

In the morning all were removed to one of the Japanese hotels, after
which we went down to pass the United States Customs Inspection. The
great horses that we met, so unlike the little stocky animals of
Japan, were an unfailing delight to the men, who wanted to examine
them and caress them but were afraid of them, scared at their least
movement. When we had passed the Customs, the morning was quite gone
and Mr. Mayo, the Inspector, invited the whole party to the dog show
in the afternoon. It was really a good show and certainly a thing the
Ainu had never dreamed of. On the whole they were greatly pleased,
but Shirake, frightened at the movement of so many animals and the
noise of so much barking, burst into tears and cried as if her heart
would break. After the dog show we sent them out to Stanley Park,
that magnificent bit of a primeval forest set apart for a people’s
playground, with Manuel and Mr. Inagaki. Near evening we went after
them and found them a picture of content. The women and children
were sitting and playing on the grass, while the men were swinging,
with childish delight. They had been greatly pleased with the living
animals in the cages; we tried to convince Kutoroge that the grizzly
bear was, as the books say, the same as he knows in Japan, but he
insisted that the Yezo bears were different from any of those here in
captivity.

[Illustration: MANUEL AND KIKO: SALUTATION OF THANKS.]

We had been invited to be guests of the local Japanese mission,
conducted by Mr. Kaburagi, who was educated in the United States.
Both he and his wife speak excellent English. The gathering took
place in the mission rooms in the evening. Among the half-dozen
whites who were guests were Prof. Odlum and Colonel and Mrs. Whyte.
Prof. Odlum is the President of the local scientific and historical
society and has been in Yezo. Years before A. Henry Savage Landor
made his journey around the island, of which he makes such boast
in his sadly inaccurate “Alone with the Hairy Ainu,” Prof. Odlum
had gone over the same ground in much saner fashion. It was a great
pleasure to him to again see Ainu, the people with whose homes he
had once been familiar and into whose language he had made some
translations. The room in which we were gathered was suited to a
gathering, perhaps of two hundred persons; if so, there must have
been three hundred present, mostly young Japanese men. The leader
is a natural orator and a man of energy. A definite program had
been arranged between him and Mr. Inagaki. Yazo spoke of Ainu
agriculture, Goro of dress and ornament and tattooing, Kutoroge
told of the bear-hunt. Prof. Odlum was called upon and briefly
expressed his sympathy with Japan in her war and referred to his
own experiences in Yezo. I then spoke in English of Ainu life and
customs, having Kin and Kiko show salutation, thanks, and petition,
which captured the audience, and the old men gave a _yukara_. This
trick of Kin and Kiko is one which Manuel discovered and has a bit
developed. On shipboard, when we carried lumps of sugar or fruits
or cakes down to the children, as we did every afternoon, we
insisted on their standing to receive them. On seeing the gift, the
little hand was raised and the finger drawn across the upper lip,
then the two hands were crossed one on the other, palms up, just in
front of the body, when the gift was laid upon them. It was very
pretty, particularly when done by little Kiko. Rarely have we seen
such general interest and close attention as this crowd of young
Japanese gave throughout our little entertainment. At its close they
showered gifts upon the Ainu. The men each received a dollar; each
woman received cloth for a dress; the children were given toys and
bonbons. To the party collectively was given a great box of cakes.
The plan had been to give Japanese cakes, as those to which they
were accustomed, but the crafty creatures had expressed a preference
for American cakes! Loaded down with gifts and completely tired—a
Customs House Inspection, a Dog Show, a Park Picnic, and an Evening
Entertainment all in one day!—they went home.

Of course, we everywhere attracted crowds. In Japan these crowds
were never troublesome. In Vancouver fifty persons would gather
immediately on our stopping on the streets, but it was the best
behaved street crowd we have ever seen in a city of white people. In
Seattle it was less tolerant, but only once was anything absolutely
unpleasant said. In Saint Louis there was more rudeness, but nowhere
was there so much as we had dreaded. From Seattle to Saint Louis,
at almost every station passed during the daytime, people crowded to
see the Ainu and asked their questions and made their comments but
all good-naturedly. Several adventures with drunken men upon the car
took place, but these poor fellows were usually bubbling over with
goodwill and were only troublesome in their well-meant advances of
kindliness. Both at stations and in the cars meetings with Indians
took place and it was curious to see the mutual close inspection.
On the whole the Ainu took the inspection well and sometimes
reciprocated fully. At Fort Sheridan, Wyoming, negro soldiers were at
the station. Kutoroge was greatly excited and examined them closely.
He finally asked us whether the color was temporary or permanent, and
then wanted to know whether it was generally distributed over the
body or confined to the face and hands.

At Seattle, on account of a bad arrangement of trains we had almost
twenty-four hours to wait. Here the men were much interested in
the totem-pole set up in the city and inquired about its use and
the Indians, who made it. We rode over one of the great inclined
cable-lines; they were a little timid and quiet on the way up, but
when we came coursing down, their joy was great. Kutoroge and Goro,
in particular, clapped their hands like children, jumped up and down
and shouted with delight.

We were hours late in reaching Saint Louis. Mr. Hulbert was at the
station waiting for our arrival and at once secured a great coach to
take us in state to the Exposition grounds, where we arrived at four
o’clock in the afternoon of April 6th, the group being temporarily
located in the Government Indian School building. We were pressed
for time; work began at the University on the 1st of April and we
must reach Chicago as soon as possible. So we told the Ainu that our
time for separation had come and wished them happiness. Kutoroge
hastily ransacked the luggage and drew out a wooden tray with carved
decoration, which he presented us on behalf of the party as a token
of their affection. All followed us to the door and stood upon the
topmost step; tears filled their eyes and all were sobbing; they
rubbed their hands and waved them in the air and the old men stroked
their beards. When almost out of sight we turned and saw them all
standing as before, weeping and waving their partings.

Upon my tray are carved designs, graceful curves, fillings of
criss-cross lines. The Ainu is a great carver of wooden articles and
all he carves he decorates. Trays, cigarette holders, knife-handles,
tobacco-boxes, pipe-holders, moustache-sticks, sheaths for knives and
swords, spoons—all of these are decorated with good designs. Only
one student has, so far, made a serious study of Ainu art, Dr. H.
Schurtz, of Bremen, Germany. In a complete study one must investigate
not only the designs cut in wood, but also the patterns embroidered
on dress and the figures tattooed upon the arms and hands of women.
Almost all the Ainu patterns are highly conventionalized and many of
them are derived from original animal representations. On the whole
Ainu art appears to be notably independent and characteristic.

Some Italian anthropologists use the terms _centripetal_ and
_centrifugal_ in regard to races. A centripetal people is one
whose customary movements are toward the person of the actor, not
away from him. Dr. McGee was particularly interested in securing a
group of Ainu, because they have the reputation of being distinctly
centripetal, perhaps the most so of any people. We had hoped to find
strong evidence of this character, but cannot claim to have been
very successful. It is true that the salutations are of that kind:
the hand-wavings and beard-strokings are not expansive, outward
movements, but toward the person. The knife in cutting is frequently,
perhaps generally, drawn toward the cutter. These were the only
centripetal facts which we observed. The method of singing the
_yukara_, as already described, is very peculiar; possibly it will
come into this category. Landor, whom we rarely care to quote, says
something in this direction, which may be sound: “More interesting
to me than their physical characters, were their movements and
attitudes, which I was able to study and note correctly without their
observation. For instance, when Ainu try to move some heavy body they
pull it toward them; thus, when they drag their dugouts and canoes
on shore, and again when they launch them, they never push from them
but pull toward them. If an Ainu has to break a stick planted in the
ground he does it by pulling it; whereas a Japanese will push it.
Again in pulling a rope the Ainu pull; the Japanese push, by placing
the rope over one shoulder and walking in the direction wanted. In a
crowd, where a Japanese would push his way through by extending his
arms and thus separating people, the Ainu seizes a man on each side,
pulling one to the right and the other to the left, till space for
him to pass is made.” Now, if these are correct observations and we
are inclined to accept them as such, they illustrate the centripetal
nature of the Ainu and the centrifugal nature of the Japanese.

The physical characters of the Ainu and the Japanese differ
profoundly. The Ainu present a peculiar and strongly marked type. On
the whole they are short; Batchelor gives 5 ft. 4 in. as the average
stature for men and 5 ft. 1½ in. or 5 ft. 2 in. as the average for
women. It is true, however, that stature varies considerably with
locality—the men of Shiraoi being relatively tall and well built,
those of Piratori medium, and those of Ishikari smaller and badly
developed. The Ainu skin, though dark, is white, not yellow or
brown; the color appears darker than it really is because the Ainu
rarely bathe. The hair is abundant both on the body and the head, and
is wavy; the color is commonly black, though it may be dark-brown or
even reddish; like wavy hair everywhere, it presents an elliptical,
not a circular, cross-section. The beard in males is strong and
abundant. The features are those of the white race rather than the
yellow; the nose is prominent and well formed, the mouth is strong;
the lips firm. The eyes are brown, sometimes even light brown. Mark
these characters well; compare them with those of the Japanese. How
profound the difference. The white skin, abundant body hair and
beard, the hair wavy and of elliptical section, the horizontal eye
full of expression and fire, the features combined into a strong
relief—these are in strong contrast to the yellow-brown skin,
hairless face and body, straight and round hair, oblique eyes and
flat face of the Japanese. In all these respects in which the Ainu
differs so profoundly from the Japanese, he resembles us, the whites
of European race.

They are often called “the hairy Ainu” and we consider the term just.
It is true that their proximity to the smooth-bodied yellow Asiatics
has made their hairiness conspicuous by contrast. It is true that
many writers, who have spoken of “fur” and “missing links,” have
overstated facts; but it is also true that notably hairy bodies are
the rule among the males. Individual Russians are no doubt common,
who are as hairy as the average Ainu, but we believe firmly that
taken _en masse_ the Ainu are more hairy than the Russians, and
probably the hairiest people on the globe. Of course, the Ghiliaks,
living on the Asiatic mainland and undoubtedly related with them,
present the same peculiarity. Hitchcock gives a lot of excellent data
in regard to Ainu hairiness.

As different are the Japanese and Ainu in language. Years ago,
Basil Hall Chamberlain drew up a detailed comparison between the
two, pointing out fifteen points of difference, and he might have
extended the list indefinitely. Nor are the differences he indicates
of trifling significance. On the contrary they are vital and concern
the most important constructional matters. Thus, in the Ainu, verbs
have true passive forms like those of European languages, the
Japanese in its most earnest effort to express a passive cannot get
rid of an active viewpoint; the Ainu has many reflective verbs, the
Japanese has none; “Ainu pronouns are used at every turn like the
pronouns of modern European languages,” Japanese has no real and
simple pronouns; in Ainu “honorifics” are lacking, in Japanese they
abound. Mr. Batchelor’s little _Grammar of the Ainu Language_ is
interesting reading, even if it does not convince the reader that
Ainu is an “Aryan language.” Years ago the Japanese government of
the Hokkaido published Mr. Batchelor’s _A Dictionary of the Ainu_,
now long out of print. During the time that has since elapsed he had
added enormously to the work and his present manuscript represents
the labor of a quarter of a century. It is now complete and ought to
be printed without delay. As long as it remains in manuscript it is
in danger; once lost, it could never be replaced, even by the author,
for the use of Ainu as a speech is passing.

Who are the Ainu? Where did they come from? What is their past? They
are surely a white people, not a yellow. They are more our brothers,
though they live so far away, than brothers of the Japanese, to whom,
in place, they are so near. That is not to say that all men are not
brothers; our meaning we think clear. We, white men, are fond of
assuming an air of great superiority, when we speak of other peoples.
We take it for granted that all white men are better than any red
ones, or black ones, or yellow ones. Yet here we find a _white race
that has struggled and lost_! It has proved inferior in life’s battle
to the more active, energetic, progressive, yellow people, with which
it has come in contact. It may be that the Ainu are but a little
fragment of a once widespread Asiatic white race. The Ghiliaks, the
Mao-tse (“hairy”) of China, some small populations of southeastern
Asia and the curious non-aggressive Todas of India with their great
beards and strange customs, may be other fragments of that same
old population. We cannot assert it; study and comparison will be
necessary before the assertion would be warranted; but we believe
such comparison may prove what we suggest. Should it do so, that
old white race was broken and submerged by a great flood of active
yellow Asiatics, who pressed eastward from their old home, perhaps in
Mesopotamia.

[Illustration: HOUSE IN DEMOLITION: SHIRAOI.]

Our poor Ainu longed for their house, which was slow in coming. When
it, at last, arrived they were astonishingly prompt in rearing it.
The traditional method of construction was followed and a feast
celebrated its completion. Unfortunately, we could not be present,
but a week later a post-rehearsal was given for our benefit. The
Saint Louis house consists of the main eastern part, and the western
_shem_; these are separated to give better circulation of air and
the passage between them is roofed over; a curtain of matting hangs
in the west doorway; the ground is covered with mattings and the
walls are hung with them; there are the usual east and south windows,
fireplace, and treasure corner. At the feast Sangyea officiated as
the head of the house, Santukno, as his wife, assisting. They were
seated to the north of the fireplace; the rest of the household
were to the south; the guests of consequence were seated upon fine
mattings to the east of the fireplace; others sat along the north
and west sides. When all were seated the _inao_ to the fire-goddess
were placed; then the other _inao_ of the house were put in their
proper places. Kutoroge next made the new fire for the hearth, not
with matches but with the ancient flint and steel, the spark being
caught in tinder in a sort of horn or cup; as soon as the spark was
caught, a piece of dried elm-root was fitted into the opening of this
receptacle, and vigorously sucked at the upper end until the whole
lower end, in contact with the lighted tinder, was in a glow, when
the fire was started with it. The treasures were then located in
their corner and the _inao_ guardian of the house set up. All now
went outside while Yazo placed the roof _inao_. Next the _nusa_ was
constructed to the east of the house, before the sacred window, while
Sangyea prayed. Returning to the house cups and moustache-sticks
were produced. Goro filled the cups and Sangyea made an offering to
the east and to the _inao_ of the fireplace, drank half the cup,
giving the rest to Santukno; drink was now served to all the members
of the household and to the guests. Then for the first time in the
new home the women pounded millet in the mortar, singing songs
without words to time the pounding. The younger men then threw beans
to the little children, to the household and to the guests, after
which millet-cakes were served. When all was ended the house-master
expressed his appreciation of the interest of the guests as shown by
their presence.

The house truly presented a gay showing of _inao_. Those for the
fireplace are called _chi e horo ka kep_. There were four of them in
line at the east end of the fireplace; the top end is four-cleft and
there are two tufts of shavings at different heights; in the upper
tuft were three small bunches, neatly curled; in the lower tuft, were
two bunches; in shaving these the movement is downward and toward
the cutter; the bark is left on the lower part of the sticks; these
_inao_ should be burned after the ceremony. The _chise koro inao_
were two in number, one to the north, the other to the south, of
the fireplace; they are cut squarely across at the upper end and
tapered gradually below; no bark is left upon them; they are for the
household god and, after the ceremony should be placed with it in the
northeast corner. _Inao kike_, loose shaving curls, were hung at the
entrance and at the sides of the two windows; when evil people look
in at the window, where these are located, the god strikes them in
the face; only evil people _will_ look in at a window. Great _inao_,
with beautifully curled masses of shavings, called _kike parase_ were
fastened—one at the south window, one somewhat larger at the east
window, another still larger on the roof beam above the south end of
the fireplace; those at the windows are to keep away evil spirits and
ghosts; that bound to the beam is dedicated to the god who holds up
the house; the two on the roof, at the ends of the ridgepole were of
the same kind and were to ward off harm from winds and evil birds.
_Chise koro inao_ is a name used only while that kind of an _inao_ is
at the fireplace; when it is elsewhere it is called _kike chinoe_;
the shaving curls of which it is composed may be twisted together
into cords giving it an entirely peculiar and different appearance.
Most important of all, however, is the _inao netobe_; this is the
one at the extreme northeast corner of the room, and, even for our
inspection the people were unwilling to bring it out, though they
showed it to me in its place, in full detail; the top end is cut
obliquely at a single stroke, and the resulting slope is called
“the face”; the bark is left on and in it three notches are cut, at
each of three levels, around the stick, nine in all; cords of _kike
inao_ are tied around this stick and rest upon these notches, as
supports; these cords bind in place pendant _kike_; as new household
festivals occur new _kike_ are added until a great bunch of them is
formed; under this mass of pendant shavings the coal from the hearth
is bound; a little arrow or spear is laid among the shavings and
a miniature sword is bound to the upright; this _inao_ represents
the very spirit of the house, and while it ought never to be moved
during the lifetime of the house, it should be destroyed if the
house is deserted. The _nusa_ to the east of the house consisted of
twenty sticks of which twelve were long, eight short. The longer ones
consist of support sticks to which _kike parase_ were lashed, both
support and _inao_ being cut to neat sloping surfaces for fitting.
The shorter sticks were cut with a single sloping stroke, giving a
“face,” which was slit across with one cut, “the mouth”; in each
mouth _inao_ shavings were thrust. The shorter sticks are said to be
merely ornamental; the longer ones are sacred. The one to the left is
the moon, the next the wells, next bears, the rest are mountains in
which bears are hunted.

[Illustration: GREAT INAO: KIKE PARASE.]

[Illustration: AINU IN CANOE: SARU RIVER.]

In Yezo, when an Ainu has been away from the village and returns,
his home-coming is made a public occasion. All the people
gather, someone being their spokesman. He and the traveller seat
themselves facing. He who has been away begins to sing, narrating
his adventures, telling where he has been and what he has seen and
done. Presently he stops and the other begins to sing the happenings
of the village during the traveller’s absence from home. So they
sing, alternating, until both stories are completed. When our Ainu
group returns, they will be received as those who were dead and have
returned; what a many things the poor fellows will have to sing of
the people and the places they have seen so far away from their home
villages in the Saru River valley.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] Unfortunately photographed inside out.

[2] Ainu village.




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