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.