The Ainu group at the Saint Louis Exposition

by Frederick Starr

At Tokio, young Mr. Yamada, from Mr. Clement’s school, met us at the station and told us that arrangements for board and lodging had been made for the Ainu at a place near the school. He also said: “The boys will invite the Ainu people to our house to-night.” This we really did not understand until near evening Mr. Clement told us that the boys were arranging a reception and that we were all invited. It is the school’s custom to hold some social function every Saturday evening. At half past seven, Madam Clement, Mr. Clement, Mr. Root, Manuel and I went to the school assembly room, where the boys were gathered. At the proper time the Ainu appeared, dressed in their new Japanese garments (the first purchases with their month’s advance) and were seated together upon a bench half facing the audience. We were given chairs of honor in front, to the left of the leader. The boys of the school, to the number of about thirty, and Mr. Inagaki formed the audience. The program and idea of the reception were entirely original to the boys. The reception was opened by prayer and a religious song; an address of welcome was then given by one of the older boys and Yazo gave a response; the boys then sang a religious song in Japanese and Goro one in Ainu; the boys followed with one or two addresses and Kutoroge was given his turn—he became stage-frightened and had to be represented by Yazo. The orator of the day, a graduate of the school and now attending the Methodist college, then made a brilliant address, which abounded in pathetic and emotional passages, and was well-received; as this was plainly addressed to me, he was asked to make an English translation, in which the oratory lost something, but the meaning was clear enough—“he recognizes that in the past the treatment of the Ainu by his own people has not always been what it should, but that the sympathy and love of the boys of the school goes with the Ainu in their long journey; that they hope I will treat them well and see that others do the same; that they hope for their safe return; be good to the Ainu.” To all of which I made a brief response, thanking the boys for their interest and sympathy and for their thoughtful and hearty way of showing them. After singing a final hymn, they passed around little sacks of cakes to each boy as his part of the feast. Meantime the Ainu and I were taken to a table, which we just filled when we sat down together, with me at the head. We were then bountifully served by the boys to tea and cakes. At the beginning the Ainu were a little restrained, but when they found that the supply was ample, they not only ate and drank astonishingly well, but laid by for future needs, as if they doubted whether so good a chance would come again. The other guests, though treated with less distinguished consideration were not neglected. When we left the boys saw us off with lighted lanterns and we felt that their reception had been a great success.

Mr. Inagaki was deeply touched and must have painted the reception in glowing colors, because an invitation came for the Ainu to visit St. Margaret’s Girls School on Monday afternoon. I was overwhelmed with work and had to go to Yokohama in the morning. However taking the noon train for Tokio, and hastening from the station to Tsukiji, I was at the school by the appointed hour. But it was a case of the play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out. Bishop McKim, Mr. Tucker, the Japanese principal, Mr. Inagaki, and one hundred and sixty Japanese girls were there and waiting; but the Ainu did not come. We waited, and waited, and to fill the time I told the girls something about Ainu life. At last we gave it up and the affair was postponed until the morrow. Inquiry found that they had not come because Shirake had a cold! The next day all except the invalid were present and the affair was reported to have been a great success. I was unable to be present.

Japan is up to date and the newspaper reporter knows his business. Though we were far from the centre of the city and had been quiet in our movements, the presence of the Ainu in the city and their location were announced in one of the papers. The result was that Tuperek appeared. And who was Tuperek? Old Sangyea’s son. We had never heard of him before and it was a long time since his father had heard from him. He had seen the newspaper notice and called and had an affecting interview. He is shrewd and knows something of white men as well as of Japanese. He is employed upon one of the “yellow journals” of Tokio. For some time he lived with Mr. Batchelor and, perhaps under his influence, has been stimulated to write a book of Ainu stories, which he plans to publish. He is a well-grown, strongly-built fellow of perhaps thirty years; he dresses in Japanese costume and shaves, but the heavy stubble on his face and the straight eyes are Ainu. The night before the party left for Yokohama he called upon us with his father; he begged to be taken to the Exposition; as they sat upon the floor before us, they wept as they pleaded. We ventured various objections, for all of which he had an answer. There was no time to get his passport and other documents; he would secure them and come along upon the next boat. He could not get into America, without us; oh, yes! he was connected with the Salvation Army, it could easily arrange that matter. As for his appearance, he knew that it was against him but he still had an Ainu costume and his beard would soon grow!

AINU IN CEREMONIAL DRESS: SHIRAOI.

In the morning, we took the party to Yokohama, leaving them with Mr. Inagaki, to see the company’s doctor and the wharf doctor, to be inspected, bathed and fumigated and to secure their certificates for embarkation; a full day was none too much. As for us, between tickets and baggage, arranging for the shipment of the house and household stuff, and a hundred other things, we were kept swinging between Tokio and Yokohama. But at last all was done and on the morning of March 18, our whole party were aboard the Empress of Japan, upon which a little separate steerage had been rigged up for the Ainu where we believed they would be happier and more secluded than in the common steerage. On the voyage all were seasick except the two older men and the two babies. They probably suffered keenly. At all events, we are told that the words they use in describing their sufferings are of the most emphatic.

On the night of the 28th of March, we had the usual entertainment in the cabin. There were many Japanese passengers upon the list and, besides the usual music and recitations, we were favored with some Japanese sleight-of-hand performances, and an instrumental solo on a strange Japanese wind instrument. The proceeds of the sale of souvenir programs were to be given to the Japanese fund for wounded soldiers. As evidence of their appreciation of this act, the Japanese at the close of the program distributed souvenirs to all the other passengers,— a pretty fan, a bit of silk, a piece of lacquer. We were invited to contribute a part to the program by bringing in the Ainu and making an address about them. The address was well received but gave occasion to a little sparring. We did not see the program until it was printed and then found that we were announced to present a “short description of the Aino, followed by an Aino bear-dance by three of the tribe on board.” Our people were in ceremonial dress and made a fine appearance. We described the physical type, the tattooing, the dress and the salutations, after which Sangyea and Kutoroge gave a yukara and we made some remarks about the problem of Ainu origin and relationship.

Had we seen the program, we should not have permitted the word Aino to appear upon it; nor should we have allowed announcement of a “bear-dance” of which we never heard. It is true that there is dancing at bear-feasts but that is different from having a dance that is called a bear-dance. As to the name of our people it is not Aino, but Ainu, which is a word in their own language meaning man. The Ainu are “men”—i. e. the men. It is a common thing for people in a certain stage of culture to name themselves in this way. The Eskimo call themselves innuit, “man”; the Moki Indians of Arizona, call themselves hopi, “men”; and the Delaware Indians called themselves Lenni Lenape, “men of men.” The word Aino is neither an Ainu nor a Japanese word; it approaches the Japanese word ino, “dog,” and there is no doubt that this similarity shades the word when used by the Japanese, to whom the Ainu often are as “dogs” and who have a legend that the Ainu are really the offspring of a woman and a dog. From the Ainu point of view the word Aino is a reproach and they resent it. While it occurs in many books, there is already ample authority in practice for using the proper form Ainu, which should absolutely supplant the other. The matter is of sufficient importance to have called for government ruling and in official documents Ainu is to-day de rigeur. In calling attention to this matter, we inadvertently offended both English and Japanese passengers, who had worded the program.

The yukara are curious and interesting but are rarely, if ever, mentioned in the books. They are ancient war-songs and we only knew that a manuscript collection of them exists in the library at Mito. On inquiring of our men, we learned that they knew many yukara, so one day upon the voyage we went down to hear our first one. Kutoroge was singer; Sangyea beat the time. They seated themselves side by side upon the floor. Kutoroge began to sing in a low voice; single words were long drawn out and interrupted with curious throat gurglings; the singing of a single line of words was a matter of time and great apparent effort. Sangyea struck one stick against another, and from time to time gave a cry as if to excite the other’s courage. Kutoroge grew louder and the encouragement was more frequent and pronounced, until both were wrought up to a considerable pitch of excitement.

It was after sunset, on March 29th, that we sighted land. The line of hills was but dimly visible in the low hanging evening haze. Our people were all below but we called them to the deck. It took a moment for the first-comers to recognize what we were showing them, but then their cries, not at all loud, brought up the others promptly. Sangyea first and then Kutoroge ceremoniously seated themselves facing the shore and in silence rubbed their hands, waved them, and stroked their beards, in thanksgiving and worship. Having made this usual salutation, they raised their hands into the air with the palms toward the land line and though we could not hear their voices, we believe they prayed.