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.