A Simple Nature-Worship—Aino Gods—A Festival Song—Religious
Intoxication—Bear-Worship—The Annual Saturnalia—The Future State—Marriage
and Divorce—Musical Instruments—Etiquette—The Chieftainship—Death and
Burial—Old Age—Moral Qualities.
THERE cannot be anything more vague and destitute of cohesion than Aino
religious notions. With the exception of the hill shrines of Japanese
construction dedicated to Yoshitsuné, they have no temples, and they have
neither priests, sacrifices, nor worship. Apparently through all
traditional time their _cultus_ has been the rudest and most primitive
form of nature-worship, the attaching of a vague sacredness to trees,
rivers, rocks, and mountains, and of vague notions of power for good or
evil to the sea, the forest, the fire, and the sun and moon. I cannot
make out that they possess a trace of the deification of ancestors,
though their rude nature worship may well have been the primitive form of
Japanese Shintô. The solitary exception to their adoration of animate
and inanimate nature appears to be the reverence paid to Yoshitsuné, to
whom they believe they are greatly indebted, and who, it is supposed by
some, will yet interfere on their behalf. {273} Their gods—that is, the
outward symbols of their religion, corresponding most likely with the
Shintô _gohei_—are wands and posts of peeled wood, whittled nearly to the
top, from which the pendent shavings fall down in white curls. These are
not only set up in their houses, sometimes to the number of twenty, but
on precipices, banks of rivers and streams, and mountain-passes, and such
wands are thrown into the rivers as the boatmen descend rapids and
dangerous places. Since my baggage horse fell over an acclivity on the
trail from Sarufuto, four such wands have been placed there. It is
nonsense to write of the religious ideas of a people who have none, and
of beliefs among people who are merely adult children. The traveller who
formulates an Aino creed must “evolve it from his inner consciousness.”
I have taken infinite trouble to learn from themselves what their
religious notions are, and Shinondi tells me that they have told me all
they know, and the whole sum is a few vague fears and hopes, and a
suspicion that there are things outside themselves more powerful than
themselves, whose good influences may be obtained, or whose evil
influences may be averted, by libations of _saké_.
The word worship is in itself misleading. When I use it of these savages
it simply means libations of _saké_, waving bowls and waving hands,
without any spiritual act of deprecation or supplication. In such a
sense and such alone they worship the sun and moon (but not the stars),
the forest, and the sea. The wolf, the black snake, the owl, and several
other beasts and birds have the word _kamoi_, god, attached to them, as
the wolf is the “howling god,” the owl “the bird of the gods,” a black
snake the “raven god;” but none of these things are now “worshipped,”
wolf-worship having quite lately died out. Thunder, “the voice of the
gods,” inspires some fear. The sun, they say, is their best god, and the
fire their next best, obviously the divinities from whom their greatest
benefits are received. Some idea of gratitude pervades their rude
notions, as in the case of the “worship” paid to Yoshitsuné, and it
appears in one of the rude recitations chanted at the Saturnalia which in
several places conclude the hunting and fishing seasons:—
“To the sea which nourishes us, to the forest which protects us, we
present our grateful thanks. You are two mothers that nourish the same
child; do not be angry if we leave one to go to the other.
“The Ainos will always be the pride of the forest and of the sea.”
The solitary act of sacrifice which they perform is the placing of a
worthless, dead bird, something like a sparrow, near one of their peeled
wands, where it is left till it reaches an advanced stage of
putrefaction. “To drink for the god” is the chief act of “worship,” and
thus drunkenness and religion are inseparably connected, as the more
_saké_ the Ainos drink the more devout they are, and the better pleased
are the gods. It does not appear that anything but _saké_ is of
sufficient value to please the gods. The libations to the fire and the
peeled post are never omitted, and are always accompanied by the inward
waving of the _saké_ bowls.
The peculiarity which distinguishes this rude mythology is the “worship”
of the bear, the Yezo bear being one of the finest of his species; but it
is impossible to understand the feelings by which it is prompted, for
they worship it after their fashion, and set up its head in their
villages, yet they trap it, kill it, eat it, and sell its skin. There is
no doubt that this wild beast inspires more of the feeling which prompts
worship than the inanimate forces of nature, and the Ainos may be
distinguished as bear-worshippers, and their greatest religious festival
or Saturnalia as the Festival of the Bear. Gentle and peaceable as they
are, they have a great admiration for fierceness and courage; and the
bear, which is the strongest, fiercest, and most courageous animal known
to them, has probably in all ages inspired them with veneration. Some of
their rude chants are in praise of the bear, and their highest eulogy on
a man is to compare him to a bear. Thus Shinondi said of Benri, the
chief, “He is as strong as a bear,” and the old Fate praising Pipichari
called him “The young bear.”
In all Aino villages, specially near the chief’s house, there are several
tall poles with the fleshless skull of a bear on the top of each, and in
most there is also a large cage, made grid-iron fashion, of stout
timbers, and raised two or three feet from the ground. At the present
time such cages contain young but well-grown bears, captured when quite
small in the early spring. After the capture the bear cub is introduced
into a dwelling-house, generally that of the chief, or sub-chief, where
it is suckled by a woman, and played with by the children, till it grows
too big and rough for domestic ways, and is placed in a strong cage, in
which it is fed and cared for, as I understand, till the autumn of the
following year, when, being strong and well-grown, the Festival of the
Bear is celebrated. The customs of this festival vary considerably, and
the manner of the bear’s death differs among the mountain and coast
Ainos, but everywhere there is a general gathering of the people, and it
is the occasion of a great feast, accompanied with much _saké_ and a
curious dance, in which men alone take part.
Yells and shouts are used to excite the bear, and when he becomes much
agitated a chief shoots him with an arrow, inflicting a slight wound
which maddens him, on which the bars of the cage are raised, and he
springs forth, very furious. At this stage the Ainos run upon him with
various weapons, each one striving to inflict a wound, as it brings good
luck to draw his blood. As soon as he falls down exhausted, his head is
cut off, and the weapons with which he has been wounded are offered to
it, and he is asked to avenge himself upon them. Afterwards the carcass,
amidst a frenzied uproar, is distributed among the people, and amidst
feasting and riot the head, placed upon a pole, is worshipped, i.e. it
receives libations of _saké_, and the festival closes with general
intoxication. In some villages it is customary for the foster-mother of
the bear to utter piercing wails while he is delivered to his murderers,
and after he is slain to beat each one of them with a branch of a tree.
[Afterwards at Usu, on Volcano Bay, the old men told me that at their
festival they despatch the bear after a different manner. On letting it
loose from the cage two men seize it by the ears, and others
simultaneously place a long, stout pole across the nape of its neck, upon
which a number of Ainos mount, and after a prolonged struggle the neck is
broken. As the bear is seen to approach his end, they shout in chorus,
“We kill you, O bear! come back soon into an Aino.”] When a bear is
trapped or wounded by an arrow, the hunters go through an apologetic or
propitiatory ceremony. They appear to have certain rude ideas of
metempsychosis, as is evidenced by the Usu prayer to the bear and certain
rude traditions; but whether these are indigenous, or have arisen by
contact with Buddhism at a later period, it is impossible to say.
They have no definite ideas concerning a future state, and the subject is
evidently not a pleasing one to them. Such notions as they have are few
and confused. Some think that the spirits of their friends go into
wolves and snakes; others, that they wander about the forests; and they
are much afraid of ghosts. A few think that they go to “a good or bad
place,” according to their deeds; but Shinondi said, and there was an
infinite pathos in his words, “How can we know? No one ever came back to
tell us!” On asking him what were bad deeds, he said, “Being bad to
parents, stealing, and telling lies.” The future, however, does not
occupy any place in their thoughts, and they can hardly be said to
believe in the immortality of the soul, though their fear of ghosts shows
that they recognise a distinction between body and spirit.
Their social customs are very simple. Girls never marry before the age
of seventeen, or men before twenty-one. When a man wishes to marry he
thinks of some particular girl, and asks the chief if he may ask for her.
If leave is given, either through a “go-between” or personally, he asks
her father for her, and if he consents the bridegroom gives him a
present, usually a Japanese “curio.” This constitutes betrothal, and the
marriage, which immediately follows, is celebrated by carousals and the
drinking of much _saké_. The bride receives as her dowry her earrings
and a highly ornamented _kimono_. It is an essential that the husband
provides a house to which to take his wife. Each couple lives
separately, and even the eldest son does not take his bride to his
father’s house. Polygamy is only allowed in two cases. The chief may
have three wives; but each must have her separate house. Benri has two
wives; but it appears that he took the second because the first was
childless. [The Usu Ainos told me that among the tribes of Volcano Bay
polygamy is not practised, even by the chiefs.] It is also permitted in
the case of a childless wife; but there is no instance of it in Biratori,
and the men say that they prefer to have one wife, as two quarrel.
Widows are allowed to marry again with the chief’s consent; but among
these mountain Ainos a woman must remain absolutely secluded within the
house of her late husband for a period varying from six to twelve months,
only going to the door at intervals to throw _saké_ to the right and
left. A man secludes himself similarly for thirty days. [So greatly do
the customs vary, that round Volcano Bay I found that the period of
seclusion for a widow is only thirty days, and for a man twenty-five; but
that after a father’s death the house in which he has lived is burned
down after the thirty days of seclusion, and the widow and her children
go to a friend’s house for three years, after which the house is rebuilt
on its former site.]
If a man does not like his wife, by obtaining the chief’s consent he can
divorce her; but he must send her back to her parents with plenty of good
clothes; but divorce is impracticable where there are children, and is
rarely if ever practised. Conjugal fidelity is a virtue among Aino
women; but “custom” provides that, in case of unfaithfulness, the injured
husband may bestow his wife upon her paramour, if he be an unmarried man;
in which case the chief fixes the amount of damages which the paramour
must pay; and these are usually valuable Japanese curios.
The old and blind people are entirely supported by their children, and
receive until their dying day filial reverence and obedience.
If one man steals from another he must return what he has taken, and give
the injured man a present besides, the value of which is fixed by the
chief.
Their mode of living you already know, as I have shared it, and am still
receiving their hospitality. “Custom” enjoins the exercise of
hospitality on every Aino. They receive all strangers as they received
me, giving them of their best, placing them in the most honourable place,
bestowing gifts upon them, and, when they depart, furnishing them with
cakes of boiled millet.
They have few amusements, except certain feasts. Their dance, which they
have just given in my honour, is slow and mournful, and their songs are
chants or recitative. They have a musical instrument, something like a
guitar, with three, five, or six strings, which are made from sinews of
whales cast up on the shore. They have another, which is believed to be
peculiar to themselves, consisting of a thin piece of wood, about five
inches long and two and a half inches broad, with a pointed wooden
tongue, about two lines in breadth and sixteen in length, fixed in the
middle, and grooved on three sides. The wood is held before the mouth,
and the tongue is set in motion by the vibration of the breath in
singing. Its sound, though less penetrating, is as discordant as that of
a Jew’s harp, which it somewhat resembles. One of the men used it as an
accompaniment of a song; but they are unwilling to part with them, as
they say that it is very seldom that they can find a piece of wood which
will bear the fine splitting necessary for the tongue.
They are a most courteous people among each other. The salutations are
frequent—on entering a house, on leaving it, on meeting on the road, on
receiving anything from the hand of another, and on receiving a kind or
complimentary speech. They do not make any acknowledgments of this kind
to the women, however. The common salutation consists in extending the
hands and waving them inwards, once or oftener, and stroking the beard;
the formal one in raising the hands with an inward curve to the level of
the head two or three times, lowering them, and rubbing them together;
the ceremony concluding with stroking the beard several times. The
latter and more formal mode of salutation is offered to the chief, and by
the young to the old men. The women have no “manners!”
They have no “medicine men,” and, though they are aware of the existence
of healing herbs, they do not know their special virtues or the manner of
using them. Dried and pounded bear’s liver is their specific, and they
place much reliance on it in colic and other pains. They are a healthy
race. In this village of 300 souls, there are no chronically ailing
people; nothing but one case of bronchitis, and some cutaneous maladies
among children. Neither is there any case of deformity in this and five
other large villages which I have visited, except that of a girl, who has
one leg slightly shorter than the other.
They ferment a kind of intoxicating liquor from the root of a tree, and
also from their own millet and Japanese rice, but Japanese _saké_ is the
one thing that they care about. They spend all their gains upon it, and
drink it in enormous quantities. It represents to them all the good of
which they know, or can conceive. Beastly intoxication is the highest
happiness to which these poor savages aspire, and the condition is
sanctified to them under the fiction of “drinking to the gods.” Men and
women alike indulge in this vice. A few, however, like Pipichari,
abstain from it totally, taking the bowl in their hands, making the
libations to the gods, and then passing it on. I asked Pipichari why he
did not take _saké_, and he replied with a truthful terseness, “Because
it makes men like dogs.”
Except the chief, who has two horses, they have no domestic animals
except very large, yellow dogs, which are used in hunting, but are never
admitted within the houses.
The habits of the people, though by no means destitute of decency and
propriety, are not cleanly. The women bathe their hands once a day, but
any other washing is unknown. They never wash their clothes, and wear
the same by day and night. I am afraid to speculate on the condition of
their wealth of coal-black hair. They may be said to be very dirty—as
dirty fully as masses of our people at home. Their houses swarm with
fleas, but they are not worse in this respect than the Japanese
_yadoyas_. The mountain villages have, however, the appearance of
extreme cleanliness, being devoid of litter, heaps, puddles, and
untidiness of all kinds, and there are no unpleasant odours inside or
outside the houses, as they are well ventilated and smoked, and the salt
fish and meat are kept in the godowns. The hair and beards of the old
men, instead of being snowy as they ought to be, are yellow from smoke
and dirt.
They have no mode of computing time, and do not know their own ages. To
them the past is dead, yet, like other conquered and despised races, they
cling to the idea that in some far-off age they were a great nation.
They have no traditions of internecine strife, and the art of war seems
to have been lost long ago. I asked Benri about this matter, and he says
that formerly Ainos fought with spears and knives as well as with bows
and arrows, but that Yoshitsuné, their hero god, forbade war for ever,
and since then the two-edged spear, with a shaft nine feet long, has only
been used in hunting bears.
The Japanese Government, of course, exercises the same authority over the
Ainos as over its other subjects, but probably it does not care to
interfere in domestic or tribal matters, and within this outside limit
despotic authority is vested in the chiefs. The Ainos live in village
communities, and each community has its own chief, who is its lord
paramount. It appears to me that this chieftainship is but an expansion
of the paternal relation, and that all the village families are ruled as
a unit. Benri, in whose house I am, is the chief of Biratori, and is
treated by all with very great deference of manner. The office is
nominally for life; but if a chief becomes blind, or too infirm to go
about, he appoints a successor. If he has a “smart” son, who he thinks
will command the respect of the people, he appoints him; but if not, he
chooses the most suitable man in the village. The people are called upon
to approve the choice, but their ratification is never refused. The
office is not hereditary anywhere.
Benri appears to exercise the authority of a very strict father. His
manner to all the men is like that of a master to slaves, and they bow
when they speak to him. No one can marry without his approval. If any
one builds a house he chooses the site. He has absolute jurisdiction in
civil and criminal cases, unless (which is very rare) the latter should
be of sufficient magnitude to be reported to the Imperial officials. He
compels restitution of stolen property, and in all cases fixes the fines
which are to be paid by delinquents. He also fixes the hunting
arrangements and the festivals. The younger men were obviously much
afraid of incurring his anger in his absence.
An eldest son does not appear to be, as among the Japanese, a privileged
person. He does not necessarily inherit the house and curios. The
latter are not divided, but go with the house to the son whom the father
regards as being the “smartest.” Formal adoption is practised.
Pipichari is an adopted son, and is likely to succeed to Benri’s property
to the exclusion of his own children. I cannot get at the word which is
translated “smartness,” but I understand it as meaning general capacity.
The chief, as I have mentioned before, is allowed three wives among the
mountain Ainos, otherwise authority seems to be his only privilege.
The Ainos have a singular dread of snakes. Even their bravest fly from
them. One man says that it is because they know of no cure for their
bite; but there is something more than this, for they flee from snakes
which they know to be harmless.
They have an equal dread of their dead. Death seems to them very
specially “the shadow fear’d of man.” When it comes, which it usually
does from bronchitis in old age, the corpse is dressed in its best
clothing, and laid upon a shelf for from one to three days. In the case
of a woman her ornaments are buried with her, and in that of a man his
knife and _saké_-stick, and, if he were a smoker, his smoking apparatus.
The corpse is sewn up with these things in a mat, and, being slung on
poles, is carried to a solitary grave, where it is laid in a recumbent
position. Nothing will induce an Aino to go near a grave. Even if a
valuable bird or animal falls near one, he will not go to pick it up. A
vague dread is for ever associated with the departed, and no dream of
Paradise ever lights for the Aino the “Stygian shades.”
Benri is, for an Aino, intelligent. Two years ago Mr. Dening of Hakodaté
came up here and told him that there was but one God who made us all, to
which the shrewd old man replied, “If the God who made you made us, how
is it that you are so different—you so rich, we so poor?” On asking him
about the magnificent pieces of lacquer and inlaying which adorn his
curio shelf, he said that they were his father’s, grandfather’s, and
great-grandfather’s at least, and he thinks they were gifts from the
_daimiyô_ of Matsumae soon after the conquest of Yezo. He is a
grand-looking man, in spite of the havoc wrought by his intemperate
habits. There is plenty of room in the house, and this morning, when I
asked him to show me the use of the spear, he looked a truly magnificent
savage, stepping well back with the spear in rest, and then springing
forward for the attack, his arms and legs turning into iron, the big
muscles standing out in knots, his frame quivering with excitement, the
thick hair falling back in masses from his brow, and the fire of the
chase in his eye. I trembled for my boy, who was the object of the
imaginary onslaught, the passion of sport was so admirably acted.
As I write, seven of the older men are sitting by the fire. Their grey
beards fall to their waists in rippled masses, and the slight baldness of
age not only gives them a singularly venerable appearance, but enhances
the beauty of their lofty brows. I took a rough sketch of one of the
handsomest, and, showing it to him, asked if he would have it, but
instead of being amused or pleased he showed symptoms of fear, and asked
me to burn it, saying it would bring him bad luck and he should die.
However, Ito pacified him, and he accepted it, after a Chinese character,
which is understood to mean good luck, had been written upon it; but all
the others begged me not to “make pictures” of them, except Pipichari,
who lies at my feet like a staghound.
The profusion of black hair, and a curious intensity about their eyes,
coupled with the hairy limbs and singularly vigorous physique, give them
a formidably savage appearance; but the smile, full of “sweetness and
light,” in which both eyes and mouth bear part, and the low, musical
voice, softer and sweeter than anything I have previously heard, make me
at times forget that they are savages at all. The venerable look of
these old men harmonises with the singular dignity and courtesy of their
manners, but as I look at the grand heads, and reflect that the Ainos
have never shown any capacity, and are merely adult children, they seem
to suggest water on the brain rather than intellect. I am more and more
convinced that the expression of their faces is European. It is
truthful, straightforward, manly, but both it and the tone of voice are
strongly tinged with pathos.
Before these elders Benri asked me, in a severe tone, if I had been
annoyed in any way during his absence. He feared, he said, that the
young men and the women would crowd about me rudely. I made a
complimentary speech in return, and all the ancient hands were waved, and
the venerable beards were stroked in acknowledgment.
These Ainos, doubtless, stand high among uncivilised peoples. They are,
however, as completely irreclaimable as the wildest of nomad tribes, and
contact with civilisation, where it exists, only debases them. Several
young Ainos were sent to Tôkiyô, and educated and trained in various
ways, but as soon as they returned to Yezo they relapsed into savagery,
retaining nothing but a knowledge of Japanese. They are charming in many
ways, but make one sad, too, by their stupidity, apathy, and
hopelessness, and all the sadder that their numbers appear to be again
increasing; and as their physique is very fine, there does not appear to
be a prospect of the race dying out at present.
They are certainly superior to many aborigines, as they have an approach
to domestic life. They have one word for _house_, and another for
_home_, and one word for husband approaches very nearly to house-band.
Truth is of value in their eyes, and this in itself raises them above
some peoples. Infanticide is unknown, and aged parents receive filial
reverence, kindness, and support, while in their social and domestic
relations there is much that is praiseworthy.
I must conclude this letter abruptly, as the horses are waiting, and I
must cross the rivers, if possible, before the bursting of an impending
storm.