Chapter I: Part 1

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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_.

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.

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.

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.

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.