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.