Up the Saru River--Piratori and its chief.
A large number of Ainu have taken up their abode on the banks of the
River Saru, or Sharu, as it is called by them, and Piratori, nearly
fifteen miles from the coast, is the largest village of the whole
series.
The scenery from the coast to this village is not grand, but pretty,
through a thickly-wooded country and along grassy plains. The Ainu give
to the plain itself the name of Sharu-Ru, which corresponds in English
to a "track in a grassy plain." Along this water-way, or not far from
it, one meets with numerous small Ainu villages and scattered huts until
Piratori is reached.
Piratori is a string or succession of many villages on undulating
ground, the last of them being situated on a high cliff overlooking the
river. In the Ainu language _Pira_ means "a cliff," and _Tori_ "a
residence." As in all Ainu villages, the huts are in one line, some few
yards one from the other. Each has a separate structure--a small
storehouse built on piles--generally at the west end of the hut.
On my arrival at Piratori, I was welcomed by Benry, the _Ottena_ (chief)
of the village, who invited me to his hut and _salaamed_ me in the most
solemn manner, not forgetting to mention incidentally that "his throat
was very dry," and that _sake_ (Japanese wine) could be obtained from a
Japanese who lives opposite to his hut.
"He is a bad man," said Benry confidentially; "but he sells very good
_sake_."
The _sake_ was procured, and Benry, beaming with joy, poured it with his
shaky, drunken hands into a large bowl. He then produced a wooden stick,
shaped like a paper-knife, about five inches in length, and waved it in
the air five or six times with his right hand, dipping the point of it
each time into the fluid. "_Nishpa_"--sir, master--said he. Then,
leaning forwards and lifting up his heavy moustache with the small
stick, he swallowed the contents of the bowl at a draught. The same
performance took place each time that some fresh _sake_ was poured into
his bowl, and then Benry, with an inimitable cunning, and a comically
self-sacrificing expression on his face, meekly enquired whether I would
care to see "how much an Ainu could drink."
"Yes," said I, "we will go down to the river, and you shall show me
there if you can drink it dry."
"Yie, yie, yie"--no, no, no--hurriedly replied in Japanese the Ainu
chief; "water is too heavy, and I meant wine." Owing to this small
difference of opinion, and having no wish to encourage him in his
drunkenness, Benry's capacity for intoxicating fluids is yet unknown to
the civilised world.
Benry's house is a palace compared to other Ainu huts. It is much larger
than most of them, and boasts of a wooden floor, in the centre of which
a rectangular fire-place is cut out. The hut has two windows, one toward
the east, the other opening to the south; but no chimney is provided as
an outlet for the smoke. A hole in the west corner of the roof answers
this purpose. The rough wooden frame is thatched with tall reeds and
_arundinaria_, and the roof is shaped like a prism. The different huts
of Piratori vary in size, but not in type. The larger ones cover an area
of about sixteen or eighteen feet square. Most of them, however, do not
measure more than ten or twelve feet square. Benry's house was
exceptionally large, and being such a "swell" one, two rough _kinna_
(mats) were spread on the floor and a number of Japanese rice boxes and
_shokuji_ tables[6] adorned one side of the dwelling. Over these were
hung a number of swords, knives, etc., most of them with no blade at
all, or with only a wooden one. The few old blades which Benry possessed
were of Japanese workmanship, probably obtained by the Ainu in their
former wars with the Japanese. A few Ainu spears and arrows with bone
and bamboo poisoned points were fastened to the roof.
[6] Small Japanese dinner tables.
These Ainu of Piratori have frequent intercourse with the Japanese, who
get from them furs and other articles in exchange for _sake_ or a few
worthless beads. A few half-castes are also found at Piratori. The
Piratori Ainu, with those of Volcano Bay, as we have seen, are those
best known to the civilised world, as a few foreigners have travelled so
far to see them. I may mention that as types the inhabitants of Piratori
are a great deal better than the residents of Volcano Bay, most of whom
are half-breeds; but even they themselves cannot be taken as fair
specimens of their race, for they have adopted several customs and
habits of the Japanese, which the incautious traveller has then reported
as purely Ainu customs. For instance, the pure Ainu diet consists almost
entirely of fish, meat, and seaweeds. Only occasionally are the roots of
certain trees eaten. At Piratori I found that many grow and eat millet,
and corn and bad rice are also sometimes procured from the Japanese.
Benry has also gone so far in the way of civilisation as to invest his
small fortune in buying half-a-dozen hens and a cock, with whom he
shares his regal home. These hens lay eggs according to custom, and
Benry and his "wife" eat them. As the Ainu language has no special word
for this imported kind of bird, they are known by the name of "kikkiri."
[Illustration: BENRY, THE AINU CHIEF OF PIRATORI.]
After the experience which I had had at Horobets I decided to be more
careful with my sketching. I broached the subject to Benry, and asked
him to sit to me for his portrait. At first he was very reluctant, but
the prospect of receiving a present finally overcame his scruples--for
he was indeed civilised in this respect, and understood the worth of his
version of the almighty dollar to perfection--and, consenting to be
sketched, he sat--at the outset with as much courage as docility. He
produced a crown of shavings and seaweed, which he solemnly placed on
his head, whilst his better-half helped him on with his regal _imi_
(garments), as well as a large sword, which also made part of his regal
insignia. The crown had in front a small bear's head roughly carved in
wood, and the clothes were very gaudy. They were made of strips of blue,
white, and red cloth sewn together. The materials used were Japanese,
but they were cut and arranged in a thoroughly Ainu pattern. Though he
began well, Benry was not a good sitter, and, like most animals, he did
not like to be stared at. He felt the weight of a look, as it were, and
it made him uncomfortable. Not many minutes had elapsed before he became
openly impatient; he even showed his temper by flinging away his crown
and his wooden sword. On the other hand, sketching in Benry's house was
no easy matter for me. With all the respect due to the chief of
Piratori, I am bound to say that his house was not a model of
cleanliness. Those of his hairy brothers and subjects were no better
than his, and many were a great deal worse. Fleas and other insects were
so numerous that in a few minutes I was literally covered with them,
each one of them having a peaceful and hearty meal at my expense, while
I, for the sake of art, had to go on with my sketch and leave them
undisturbed. Notwithstanding all this Benry was immortalised twice that
day, and his maid, housekeeper, or wife--three words which have the same
meaning to the Ainu--was also handed down to posterity while in the act
of spinning the inner fibre of the _Ulmus campestris_ bark, destined to
form a new garment for her lord, master, and husband.
When I went out to sketch the houses and storehouses in the village
Benry and another man followed me everywhere; but neither he nor his
fellow-shadow seemed to take any interest in the sketching. In Japan,
Corea, and China I have often been surrounded by hundreds of people
attentively watching every stroke of the brush, and I have always found
them clever and quick in making out the meaning of each line or
brush-mark. I can assert, without fear of being contradicted, that the
majority of Japanese, Coreans, and Chinese are even quicker than
Europeans in that respect, owing to the fact that lines constitute for
them the study of a lifetime. Chinese characters, which are nothing but
a deep study of lines, are adopted by the three above-mentioned nations,
and I consider this to be the original cause why this artistic insight
is to be found even among the lowest classes. The Ainu have no such
insight; they have no characters, no writing of any kind, no books, and
it is therefore not astonishing that they are not trained to understand
art, bad as it may have been in my case. Their appreciation of lines is
yet in the rudest form, and they possess no more than what is
instinctive with them. For instance, while I was sketching, Benry and
his friend either sat or crouched down by my side like two dogs, and
when my sketch was finished I showed it to them.
"Pirika, Pirika! Nishpa!" ("Very pretty, very pretty, sir!") Benry
exclaimed with perfect self-assurance; but when I asked him what he
thought the sketch represented, he cut me short by saying that _I_ had
done the picture and _I_ ought to know what it was meant for; he did
not. His friend agreed with him.
When my work was done we three walked back to Benry's house, my two Ainu
friends being very anxious that I should get something to eat. From
their conversation and gestures I caught that it seemed incomprehensible
to them that I should sit in front of an Ainu hut and--to use their
expression--"make all sorts of signs on a wooden panel." After a lengthy
discussion the two came to the conclusion that houses in our country
were so bad that I had been sent to the Ainu country to "copy" the
pattern of Ainu huts!
Benry seemed excited about something, and hurried us back with curious
haste and eagerness. When we left the house in the morning I saw Benry's
better-half placing a few eggs in water to boil over the fire. When we
entered the hut, nearly two hours afterwards, the eggs were still
boiling, and no fair maid within yelling reach. In order that the fire
might not go out during her absence the thoughtful girl had placed the
largest portion of the trunk of a tree in the fireplace!
Taken altogether, Benry and all his Saru Ainu are very good-natured.
They gradually got accustomed to being sketched, seeing that after all
it really did not bring on them "immediate death."
The more one sees of the Ainu the dirtier they appear, but as dirt to a
great extent contributes to picturesqueness, I was indeed sorry when
Benry, exercising his authority, sent several of my sitters to dress up
in their best clothes--often Japanese--while I should have preferred to
sketch them in their every-day rags. I must say, for their sake, that
they were never sent to wash. Being a rapid sketcher, I had recourse to
a trick. I pretended to sketch one given person, who, of course, was
sent at once to "dress up," and while he or she, after having returned,
posed patiently for half an hour or more, I in the meantime took
sketches of four or five different natives, who were not aware that they
were being portrayed. As the Ainu--and they are probably not the only
people--could not make either head or tail of my sketches, my trick was
never found out.
One day, old Benry led me by the hand in the most affectionate manner to
a hut some way off, and confidentially told me that we were going to see
his favourite girl and her boy.
"This," said the chief triumphantly as we went in, "this is Benry's
_Pirika menoko_" (pretty girl), "and that"--pointing to a youth--"her
only son."
"And what about the old hairy lady in your own hut?" I inquired.
"That is my _Poromachi_" (great wife), said he, qualifying matters with
a compliment to the elder woman, "and this is my _Pon-machi_" (small
wife).
"Why should you have two wives, you old Mormon?"
"Nishpa," retorted he, "my great wife is old, and she is only fit to do
all the rough work in the house and out. My hair is white, but I am
strong, and I wanted yet a young wife."
Indeed, there was enough mother-wit in Benry to have made him either a
scamp or a philosopher. His theories were as remarkable as they were
accommodating, particularly to himself.
Returning from the house of his love, the chief was in a very talkative
mood, and he related two or three Japanese stories, which he wanted me
to believe to be pure Ainu legends. A learned missionary and two or
three travellers before him, who had visited Piratori previous to
myself, have accepted these so-called legends wholesale, taking Benry's
word for their accuracy, which, as the old chief speaks very good
Japanese, of course simplified the task of understanding and
transcribing them. I was, however, much surprised to find that such
learned Europeans could yield such ready credence to a barbarian Ainu
chief.
Thinking that it would please me, Benry told me the story of a deluge
and a big flood, in which nearly all the Ainu were drowned. The few that
escaped did so by finding refuge on a high mountain.
"Where did you learn this story, Benry?" I asked sternly.
"Nishpa, it is an old Ainu story, and all strangers who come to Piratori
write it in their books."
"Oh, no, Benry, you know well that _one_ stranger did not write it in
his book," said I quickly, as if I knew all about it.
"Oh, yes, nishpa; _that_ was the stranger who told me the story!"
This small anecdote shows how careful one ought to be in accepting
information which may sound extremely interesting at first, but is
absolutely worthless in the end.
[Illustration: AINU MAN WAVING HIS MOUSTACHE-LIFTER PREVIOUS TO
DRINKING.]
[Illustration: AN AINU FESTIVAL.]