The Curse of Koshiu
The Curse of KoshiuCHAPTER I.CHAPTER II.CHAPTER III.CHAPTER IV.CHAPTER V.CHAPTER VI.CHAPTER VII.CHAPTER VIII.CHAPTER IX.CHAPTER X.CHAPTER XI.CHAPTER XII.CHAPTER XIII.CHAPTER XIV.CHAPTER XV.CHAPTER XVI.CHAPTER XVII.CHAPTER XVIII.CHAPTER XIX.Copyright
The Curse of Koshiu
Lewis Wingfield
CHAPTER I.
BOY AND GIRL.It was towards the end of the fourteenth century that the
grandeur of the Hojo family rose to its acme, then fell with awful
crash. The feudal story of the Land of the Rising Sun is a long
dark chronicle of blood and tears, of crime and rapine, of
vengeance and vendetta, out of which there glints at intervals a
gleam of glorious heroism, of holy devotion, of pure love and
unsullied faith.In the stately roll of the great names of old Japan, there is
none so terrible as Hojo. From time to time the patient people were
ruled by one race or another of despots, cruel and selfish; the
most cruel of all, the Hojos. Even now, after five hundred years of
war and havoc, of vain aspirations, power misused, and wrecked
ambitions, mothers still hush their babes to silence by breathing
the dreaded name. The most destructive insect that ravages the
fairest island in the world--the most voracious and omnivorous--is
yet known as the Hojo beetle. When the first of the line erected a
strong fortress--the Castle of Tsu, which will serve as background
to many scenes in this our chronicle--he gave to it a bloody
baptism, by burying beneath the foundations two hundred living men.
Although their baleful course was marked by an ensanguined streak
like a gory finger drawn across a map, they were not all black,
these gruesome daimios, or even Buddha, whom we know to be deaf,
and prone to somnolence, would earlier in the day have bestirred
himself to punish them. Maybe Buddha drinks too much saké, for
though we piously crack our finger-joints, and beat our palms, each
morn at sunrise, and bang the gongs and pull the bell-strings each
evening in the temple, he recks little of mere mundane worries,
letting things go from bad to worse in grievous fashion. And yet,
once roused to wakefulness, his vengeance is swift as the typhoon,
as destructive and as sweeping.No. The lurid Hojo cloud that for a hundred years brooded
over long-suffering Japan, had silver breaks in it. The Mikados, as
nominal rulers, dwelt at Kiŷoto; while the Shoguns, as military
viceroys, reigned at Kamakura; but the dominating family, as
wire-pullers, directed their movements from behind. The father of
Hojo No-Kami, last of the race, had his good points. None of his
supercilious ancestors was more superbly overbearing, more
sublimely indifferent to human pain; and yet his worst enemies were
compelled to admit that, if stern, his rule was sagacious. The
Mikado, and his court ofkugésor lords-in-waiting, shivered before him, for his dirk was
loose in the scabbard, and the order promptly to depart into
another world by uncompromisingharakiriwas ever trembling on his
lips. During his career three emperors had been summoned to shave
their heads and retire into monkish solitude, each puppet bowled
over in its turn for daring to dispute his will; and yet the very
fact of his disdaining to mask the iron hand under the glove of
silk, even in dealing with the highest, compelled the unwilling
admiration of his turbulent and light-hearted
countrymen.The upper class--Samurai, two-sword men, hatamotos,
soldiers--could appreciate his martial bearing, as, in gallant
bravery of scarlet armour and gold-studded helm, he rode forth to
battle, with his martial wife beside him. For the beautiful Tomoyé
was a fit mother for lion whelps. Of great personal strength as
well as graceful carriage, sheathed in armour like her lord,
astride on a swift horse, she was ever in the van of conflict. With
her own hand she cut off the head of a rival daimio who crossed
swords with her; and when her lord died, pierced through the heart
by an arrow she fought till she fell beside him. The lower class of
the unarmed--mechanics, mere farmers, paltry merchants--could also
from their inferior standpoint admire their ruler, whilst grieving
at his rough treatment of the Holy Mikado--mystic head of all--for
he protected the workers of the hive from the depredations of other
tyrants. The burthen of taxes was nicely weighed to suit the backs
of the bearers. The ken of the Hojo was as piercing, and minutely
attentive to details, as it was farsighted. A petition from the
elders of the meanest village was sure of immediate attention. No
petty feudal master, however recklessly bold or savagely
contemptuous, dared to overstep his rights.The result of the adamantine rule of the last Hojo but one
was peace. The land that was given over usually to turmoil and
bloodshed, with intervals of complete anarchy, enjoyed rest for
fifteen years, during which the despot set himself to consolidate
his power, and fix yet more firmly the family yoke on the necks of
lords and people.He had two sons, the elder of whom--by Japanese paradox--was
treated as if he had been the younger. Sampei, three years older
than No-Kami, was the offspring of a second wife or concubine. The
latter, heir-apparent, was the whelp of the war-queen Tomoyé. Now
in Japan concubinage is a recognised institution, and the son of
the handmaid is no bastard. And yet the child of the bondwoman is
not co-heir with the child of the free. The latter, in the case of
a great family, is undisputed head of the clan, and to him the
former owes allegiance, however much older in years, in the same
degree as lesser clansmen. The institution is so firmly welded into
the constitution of the land as, save in a few cases, to preclude
jealousy.Of course, as in all Eastern countries, ambitious men have
striven to supplant their brothers--have hacked off their heads and
reigned in their stead--but this does not affect the principle. The
two sons of Hojo grew up side by side in perfect amity. Together
they learned to ride and wield the sword and spear under the
approving gaze of their martial parents. They were both
soldiers--with a difference. Even Tomoyé was forced to admit that
of the twain Sampei, son of the concubine, was the most promising.
His nature was clear and bright as running water, simple and
unsmirched, unlike that of the heir-apparent. None more brave than
he, more quick and skilful with his weapons, more ready to smite
hard and heavily; and yet on occasion he could be soft and tender
as a woman. A polished politeness and chivalrous demeanour were so
innate in him as to win the admiration of the ladies. For seductive
luxury he had nothing but contempt. No-Kami, on the other hand, if
brave and skilled in arms, was fierce and selfish and debauched;
overfond of the harem and perfumed bath and saké cup; sullen, too,
as an ill-conditioned animal; brutal to women, ruthlessly tossing
them aside like shattered toys when sated with their charms. People
nodded their pates and whispered of him the timeworn proverb which
says that there is no seed to a great man. In sooth it has ever
been a common thing in this otherwise favoured land to see a great
house crumble into speedy ruin through the supineness and
debauchery of its sons.There was no need for anxiety as to the future of Sampei. A
soldier and a gentleman to the tips of his trim finger-nails, his
career, in the most war-ridden of countries, was carved clear
before him. It came to pass that Corea, conquered long since by the
Amazon Empress Jingo, threw off allegiance.. Who more fitted than
doughty young Sampei to reduce the rebel to obedience? Accordingly,
five years before this story opens, the gay young general, full of
life and hope, and rippling with high spirits, bade a respectful
farewell to the father he was never to see again, a more tender one
of his fond mother, Masago, who, like many another discarded
concubine, was now the Abbess of a convent, and sailed with a fleet
and army for Corea, whence news arrived from time to time, praising
his deeds of valour.As for the future of No-Kami, it was more difficult to
prophesy, and his parents were no little anxious. His prospects
were splendid; but although his father had endeavoured to foresee
contingencies, and build barriers against accidents, the path of
the next tyrant must needs be beset with thorns. Hisrôlein the future would be arduous,
thick strewn with snares and difficulties. To keep theentourageof the Mikado in
subjection--to hold the daimios--powerful and wealthy princes as
sturdy as the barons of the English John--in the requisite
condition of meekness, would require more statecraft, diplomacy,
and force of iron will, than could be expected of a model youth.
And No-Kami, as we have seen, was by no means a model youth. None
knew better than his astute and experienced parent how difficult to
a young man this task would prove; none was more distinctly aware
of the frail tenure of a despot's life. At any moment he, the
father, might be taken, and what then would happen to his
boy?Treachery stalks through the history of Japan. At any instant
the dominant Hojo might be murdered under his son's eyes. Would the
self-indulgent No-Kami be prepared with vigorous promptitude to
avenge the slain, and, seizing the dropped reins, pursue his
policy? Both father and mother sadly shook their heads. Even their
partial vision could not but perceive that the hope of the house
was a leper, abnormally sinful, inclined to become a sybarite. Was
this young man to be left to steer the bark without a pilot?
Certainly not. In case of anything unexpected arising, a staff must
be prepared for him to lean upon. A man must be placed by his side,
old in years and in experience, whose position and wisdom would
command respect, whose interest it would be to bestow sound advice
and timely sage reproof.What better guide than a prudent father-in-law? What surer
loadstone to lure an embryo debauchee from the muddy byways of low
company than a beautiful patrician bride? one of the pure and
slender, refined and high-bred maidens of noble lineage--fair and
sweet as the fragrant mountain-lily--who now, as five hundred years
ago, are the brightest glory of Japan.A crafty combination this on the part of the
warrior-statesman, which would doubtless have been crowned with
success, if he had not chanced to live in a world where mischievous
spirits delight in frustrating plans the most cleverly matured.
Tomoyé heard, and listened dubiously. Even among the most elevated
Japanese, as well as in the highest European circles, papas and
mammas will differ as to the ideal bride. What was the precise
article that would suit No-Kami? Unfortunately there was not time
to have one specially ordered. Since perfection is chary of
repetition, it was not to be expected that another Tomoyé--a stern
yet loving lioness--could be found for the precious youth. Indeed,
so recreant a scion was he of the stock, that he might have
objected possibly to a muscular and fiery wife whose pastime was
the chopping of heads. And yet not so. A true lion-whelp was he in
blood enjoyment. Even the low-bornGeishasinging girls who stocked his
harem, had often cried under his buffets, and shouted shame, with
tears, at his barbarous treatment of his servants.Alas! how sad it is that even the most sapient in mundane
experience will be guilty of errors sometimes that are patent to
the lesser fry. Is it over-anxiety that blinds them? The problem
was to put the finger on a great noble--daimio among daimios--who
could compare in descent and grandeuralmostwith the line of Hojo; who, of
weight in counsel, and rather cool than hot, would stem precipitate
rashness. He must have no son, and but one daughter, and devoid
therefore of the ambition which accompanies male issue, must adopt
his daughter's husband as his son; and by thus uniting the two
families in closest bonds, make their interests identical. The
child of the magnate (given that the two were found) must be
mentally perfect, and a vision of corporeal
loveliness."My dear!" quoth the broad-shouldered but practical Tomoyé,
as with one eye critically closed she assayed the temper of a brand
new sword. The lady was apt to get vexed when her lord grew warm
and garrulous. "My dear," she observed, "we have many rounds of
mortal life to climb ere, reaching the summit, we attain Nirvana.
Though you are good enough to be blind to my blemishes, even I am
not quite perfect. Perfection, in our present low cycle, is so very
scarce, you know." With this she beamed upon her lord, whilst
artlessly belying her words by approvingly fingering her muscles.
She was inwardly aware, with pardonable pride, that no other
daimio's daughter could boast such an arm as hers.My lord was provoked, and rubbed his nose. When you are
erecting airy towers, practical people are exasperating. It was
evident she had gained a point, so she proceeded to follow it
up."Where in broad Japan do you propose to seek these paragons?
This pink of perfect daimios, and his yet more model
child?"There was a tendency to irreverence in this tone, which
required nipping in the bud. The eye of the Mikado's master shot
forth a gleam, before which even the lioness cowered. When his mind
was made up, the Hojo brooked no argument."Be it as you will!" Tomoyé dutifully murmured. "My lord is
all-wise, all-powerful; his wife his willing slave. Go forth and
seek the paragons, and let us hope you will find them
soon."To please him whom she loved best on earth, Tomoyé made
believe to be convinced; and yet her woman's tact whispered down in
the deep recesses of her manly bosom, that my lord, for all his
wiliness, was wrong; that he was building a fool's paradise far up
in Œther, out of which her dear boy might tumble.Curious to relate, the paragons concerning whom she was
tempted to be disrespectful were not far to seek. With but little
hocus-pocus father and daughter were conjured on the scene, as
absolutely the "very thing," to all appearance, as the cunning Hojo
had conceived them. He declared as much at least, and dutiful
Tomoyé acquiesced, slightly pinching her lips in silent protest.
Instead of the "very thing" which was to bring about complete
success before its time in our weary pilgrimage of cycles, the
mother's instinct beheld with prophetic vision, in the proposed
alliance, the worst elements of discord and defeat,--of so dire and
dread a tragedy as should shake Japan to its centre, and annihilate
the dominating house. Yet who was she, the warrior wife reflected
in her humility, to set up puny instincts against the ripened
statecraft of my lord? Her muscles were better than her brains.
Should she presume to know more than he who held in his hand
Mikado, nobles, people?--whose nod was law in the land beloved of
Buddha? who had preserved it from contamination from without? Her
place was to bend before the will of the dictator, and offer
prayers for her husband and her son.* * * * *The most perfectly poetic spot in all poetic Japan, whose
ensanguined history is made beauteous to the eye of a fastidious
posterity by the flora of chivalry and valour, is
Nara.Lovely and secluded, sweet-smelling and umbrageous Nara! The
Nara of to-day--how much more the Nara of five hundred years
ago--suggests to the incursive foreigner a bit of Eden's
garden.In very early times the central mart of Japanese opulence
(which ebbed by-and-by to Kiŷoto), it came after a while to be
recognised as the special home of holiness. Accepting the better
part, it exchanged the shimmering sham glory of mundane ambition
for the sheen reflected from above. Some twenty miles from
Kiŷoto--time-honoured residence of Mikados, and therefore a sacred
city--the small town of Nara stands on a plain surrounded by rugged
hills. Passing through low grey streets, leaving on the left a huge
and ornate pagoda, you enter a tangle of wild greenery--an ideal
wood of immense cryptomerias darkling skyward after light. A jungle
of variegated foliage, so sweet and fresh, masks half their
altitude, while the undulating ground beneath is broken into
verdant waves chequered with blossoms of all hues. This forest is
vast and silent, save where a white-robed group of pilgrims
saunters along its glades--undefended by barriers, save those of
religious custom. And what more tough than they? If sprightly and
given to skull-cracking, the Japanese live in terror of their
deities, who without exception are vindictive. Buddha and the
lesser lights are awful and threatening and ever-present, and the
favourite hunting-grounds of Buddha are the hallowed groves of
Nara.The thickets teem with game. All kinds of coy animals which
usually flee at sight of man, here hold undisputed sway. The
intruder is on their territory, and they let him know it. The
timorous doe stands with soft unstartled eyes across the path,
sniffing with moist nostrils the expected cake. And if the
white-clad pilgrim should have striven to combine economy with cure
of soul by investing in cheap offerings, the scornful stag and his
following will shake their ears, and bound away to relate to the
gods the insult. With head on one side, birds look critically down
from boughs, nor think of flight; hares, taught by impunity,
instead of making off, white scut in air, groom nose with paw,
undaunted.Hidden away, centre of an intricate labyrinth--enclosed in
many courts, each hung with myriad lamps in bronze-like fringes
round the eaves--stands the Holy of Holies, Buddha's hunting-box,
wherein a band of virgins perform weird shinto rites for the behoof
of awe-struck pilgrims. At stated seasons this bevy of priestesses,
emerging from strict retirement, performs thekagura, a slow swanlike measure, with
many and intricate figures and waving of fans and bells and
kerchiefs, accompanied by priestly flutes--which (doubtless good
for the soul, since its weary length is interminable) is soothing
also to ear and eye, for the ladies are graceful and slender in
their loose red trousers and gossamer robes, their long locks
flowing as they float to and fro, with a background of gold
screens, and beyond the antique forest. How peaceful a life, free
from sordid cares, must these holy damsels lead! Far from the
fretful striving of the churlish world--its hate and jealousy and
bitterness and disillusion--no call to arms or shock of war invades
this calm retreat. They share ungrudgingly their Eden with the
beasts and butterflies, guileless and content as they, strumming
the three-stringed samisen, sailing through maze of solemnkagura, doing tender service in the
temple.Among the troop of maidens was one who wore no religious
habit. Although she had taken no vows, priests and virgins loved
her as much as if one of themselves. Brought up among them with the
hares and birds for comrades, as stately and as gentle as the deer,
she shared from childhood, being motherless, their pure and
contemplative life. Strangers often said that the fairest thing in
lovely Nara was the tall and pale O'Tei. Some compared her to the
unblown white lotos as it sways dreamily in the breeze. Others
dubbed her pearl; but later all agreed that young Sanjo the
armourer was delivered of the neatest simile when he fashioned a
white fawn of purest silver and gave it to the maiden for a
hairpin. As a child she had always been still and given to
day-dreams, peering into the flowers as if she could read secrets
there, or gazing into the opal sky in search of angels, or watching
the pallid stars as they glimmered forth out of the deepening blue.
Yet was she as gay as the chirping cicadas in the trees, as light
and fleet as her four-footed friends, as, pattering on dainty clogs
in wayward mood, she would leave the forest for the town, and
peeping in at Sanjo's, shake an arch finger at the brawny
armourers, while they wiped their swart brows, and
laughed.It was by a whimsical coincidence that the celebrated family
of Sanjo, from time immemorial armourers in chief to the Mikados,
as the Miochins were to the Shoguns, should have set up the forge,
emblem of war, hard by the sacred wood, the type of peace. But so
it was. Indeed, as I write, the existing Sanjos occupy the
ancestral dwelling. They are poor now. Their occupation is gone,
for civilisation and European ways have stepped in and ruined them.
At the period which occupies us, the blowing of the forge-bellows
and the welding of iron on the anvil were in curious contrast to
the surrounding calm. Many lords who came hither in pilgrim guise
to improve their soul's estate, looked in at Sanjo's ere they went
away, to buy new blades and armour. The holy forest was an oasis of
peace in a world of uproar; for was not the castle of the powerful
lord of Nara but a mile beyond the town; and did not close by
(happily concealed by a hill from his proud gaze) the fortress of
the Daimio of Osaka rear its majestic front, home of his hereditary
foe? Of course it was enough for two great feudal lords to dwell
cheek by jowl for them to hate one another cordially. These two
were as jealous as two rival beauties. The outer moat at Nara was
wider than that of my lord of Osaka, but then the interior of
Osaka's stronghold was the more splendid, and its armoury more
richly furnished. Hence frowns and jibes and backbitings from
generation to generation, varied now and then by siege or battle,
accompanied by fire and massacre.Among the many who were firm friends of the Sanjos, was,
naturally enough, Sampei. Of course, so gallant a young gentleman
could wear no armour but Sanjo's, could wield no sword but one that
bore his mark. One morning, standing beside the anvil, and laying
down the law to an obsequious audience, on military subjects, he
beheld, framed in the doorway, such a delightful vision, that his
heart gave a great thump, and he dropped the precious blade, whose
temper he was critically testing by the bisecting of a coin. It was
only for a second. Startled by the apparition of a distinguished
stranger, and grown unaccountably bashful of a sudden, the blushing
and beautiful O'Tei cried Oh! and, turning on her clogs, scampered
back into the wood, whither the inflammable Sampei would swiftly
have followed, had he not been restrained by the
armourer."Beware!" the latter whispered, grasping him tightly by the
skirt. "That maid is not for thee! The heiress of the Daimio of
Nara will look higher than a soldier of fortune!"Sampei laughed, to conceal his annoyance. It is exasperating
and humiliating too, to a handsome young soldier, who as such
adores the sex, to be bluntly informed that the loveliest girl whom
he has ever looked upon is hopelessly out of reach. And yet he
could not deny that his friend was right. The White Fawn of Nara
might never be his, for one so noble and so fair could command the
most splendid ofpartis. But
was that any reason why he should not look at her? He was
heartwhole. No doubt of that. His soul was devoted to his sword;
but, as dashing young warriors have done time out of mind, he liked
to dally with maidens, and the prettier they were the better.
Instead of purchasing a blade and departing straightway, he all at
once became fastidious. This one was too light; that one
ill-balanced.Japan is the land of blades. From the tail of the Dragon was
born the sword which the Sun-goddess bestowed on the first Emperor.
By the sword of the clustering clouds, Yamato-Daké subdued the
East. It was quite fitting that our young general should be
particular. Sanjo produced in vain his rarest achievements. There
was "Knee-cutter" and "Beard-divider," unrivalled masterpieces,
which Sanjo himself so loved that he had always declined to part
with them. But there was no satisfying this capricious and arrogant
youth. Sanjo would be good enough to set himself to work and create
an inspiration; and Sampei, to whom time had all at once become no
object, would remain at Nara and superintend the progress of the
miracle. And so it came about that the blade, taking long to make,
O'Tei (curious, after the fashion of maidens) came pattering along
the street, just to see if the young warrior was gone. Oddly
enough, he was still there; with face towards the door too. This
was well, if strange; for he was comely; extremely civil, to boot;
courteous, and vastly respectful; could troll rich snatches of
merry song, and tell diverting tales with dancing eye and
glittering teeth; while as for his smile, it did one good to bask
under it--so bright it was, so warm and genial, exuberant with
bubbling youth.The brawny workers at the anvil vowed with grins and nudges
that 'twas charming to watch these two--she, the type of the
patrician beauty of her country--complexion of palest olive, nose
aquiline, cheek bones a trifle high, perfectly moulded chin and
throat, eyes and hair a deep black, the former raised the least
little bit in the world at the outer corners--as she lounged in a
steelykimonoof finest crape
drawn up over one of scarlet. And he was in his way as bonny a
spectacle. Exceeding dark of skin; of low stature, as are most of
the Japanese, but admirably proportioned and muscular; his
luxuriant sable locks (shaven away in the centre, lest the eyes
should be obscured in battle), fastened in two tresses at the back,
while a becoming blue fillet bound his temples, knotted at the side
in a bow.I am afraid I must admit at once that Sampei, to whom I am
very partial, was a sad flirt. He invented appalling tales of death
and slaughter, for the pleasure of seeing the cheek of O'Tei grow
whiter, then set himself to woo the delicate sea-shell colour back
with well-timed jest; and was flattered and pleased to find that he
could learn to play upon her as on some fragile instrument. To the
girl his radiant advent was a strange and wondrous break in the
sweet monotony of years,--a revelation like the raising of some
veil that masks the infinite; and she marvelled vaguely whether the
perfumed wood would hold so rich a charm whenhewas no longer there to rouse the
echoes with his laughter. Hand in hand they wandered--artless
children--while the soft-eyed deer peeped out at them approvingly.
They visited her favourite haunts; the open glade where the
glorious lilies grew in clusters--lemon-yellow, or white, brown
centred; where the great jewelled butterflies tumbled low along
like junks under heavy sail; where beds of scarlet blossoms like
geraniums nestled in sheets on the bank of a crystal stream--home
of flights of glittering dragon-flies, black and iron-blue, like
the cohorts of the warlike Osaka. And then the sharptwee tweeof the cicadas, answering or
calling one another out of the deep stillness of the canopy above,
the boom of the hoarse bees, the buzzing of gossamer wings, the
click of the cricket, the hum of the myriad tiny voices up in the
dense green, which joining in harmonious chorus form a silence--a
haven of solitude and rest.It was not possible to linger in the shadowed aisles whose
pillars were the giant cryptomerias, without feeling subdued and
softened; and a suspicion flitted more than once across the mind of
the young soldier that perchance the career of hurly-burly and the
clash of steel were a mistake, the contemplative life a better.
What happier method of getting through the cycle than to muse away
the years, till called to go, with gentle O'Tei, and the forest,
and the animals? And then, the sylvan influence and flash of the
clear eyes removed, Sampei would wake and shake himself in
distress, and know that the ground was dangerous. The contemplative
life was good for girls and shaven priests, and men who had
succumbed in the battle. Youths with lives spread out before like a
trail of moonlight on the sea, must gird up their loins and elbow
their way through the medley. Too long already had the young
General dallied, wasting time. And yet, not wasting, for he and she
were to be friends for life--that was quite settled--dear brother
and loving sister, trusting each other without question, certain,
in moments of emergency, of the completest helpfulness and
sympathy. It was delicious to possess such a sister, a soft warm
sunspot on his harsh career; more she might never be, and he
recognised that this was well.Her gentleness unnerved his arm, he was wont jestingly to
say, for her nature was woven of such frail glass threads that just
as the rush of the herd snapped the slender lily-stems, a rude puff
of wind might shatter it. Some day she would find a suitable
husband, and her adopted brother would love him for her sake; and
then they would recline in the long grass and fall a-talking of
what the lucky mortal would be like. To match with the perfection
of O'Tei he must be a perfect creature. Not a bluff soldier like
Sampei. No, that would never do, for like a tender plant must the
dear maid be cherished. To the end must the White Fawn be screened
from din of war and rude surroundings. Poor hearts! They were both
so young and ignorant and hopeful. They knew not how futile a
pastime is the building of air-palaces. They were unaware that Fate
is a sad marplot, and that if we plan a matter in a certain way, it
will surely come out quite otherwise.The Shinto virgins were somewhat scandalised by the romantic
proceedings of the fair O'Tei and the too good-looking General.
They were disinclined to approve of him, for they knew he had said
that, with faces painted a dead white, eyebrows at top of
foreheads, and long flat hair well-oiled, they looked like the
dolls of Asakusa. A ribald military person was not expected to have
taste, or to know wherein lies true beauty, but he might show more
respect for youthful gorgons. O'Tei did little credit, they
averred, with tart displeasure, to her education. If she pined for
male society, was not the temple full of holy bonzes? The heiress
of Nara showed lamentable signs of incipient depravity. What
business had she with Sanjo, the common armourer? She who, wayward
always and inconsistent, when taught like every prospective
chatelaine to wield a pike, had been wont to toss down the
silver-mounted weapon, with a pout, vowing that she hated
fighting.Things could not go on as they were, for the situation was a
false one. Sanjo grew nervous. If the Daimio of Nara, who as Kugé
or court noble lived usually at Kiŷoto in attendance on the
Emperor, were to hear that his only child, instead of innocently
floating through mazes ofkagura, was using his (Sanjo's) forge for flirting purposes with an
ineligible man who was the son of a concubine, there would be
trouble; and Sanjo was not unaware of the parable concerning iron
pots and earthen pipkins. All were relieved, therefore, except
O'Tei, who was hazy as to her own sentiments, when the news arrived
that the rebellion in Corea was to be quelled, and that Sampei was
to command the expedition.When brother and sister parted, O'Tei clung round the neck of
the youth, and, weeping bitterly, shivered she knew not why.
Lovingly he kissed her brow, and disengaged himself from her
embrace, and was more than ever certain as he rode away that,
perfect in a congenial sphere, as wife of some grandee who would
appreciate her gentle excellence, his sweet and sensitive sister
would make the worst of consoles for one whose trade was
war.
CHAPTER II.
THE LAST HOJO.
Being a cunning and artful reader, you have long since
guessed that the pattern maid whose benign influence was destined
to reform the brutish No-Kami, was no other than O'Tei, while the
paragon Daimio was Nara.
The Shinto virgins, as unjust and purblind as young gorgons
may be expected to prove, were quite wrong as to O'Tei, who was no
flirt. She did all credit to her rearing, for, when summoned to
leave the conventual seclusion of the forest and assume the garb
and responsibilities of her rank, she dutifully murmured, "Let my
father's will be done," and accepted the husband of his choice. She
had never been told--for the holy bonzes knew little about the
subject--that in many marriages there are but two cheerful
days--the first and the last--and marched straight upon her fate
without a tremor.
The elder Hojo, though a crafty and long-headed statesman,
made a sad mistake while arranging the affairs of his son. The air
palace he built was complete and imposing, beautiful to the eye,
but, as the muscular and practical Tomoyé had foreseen, its
foundations were of the weakest. He forgot that old Nara, as lord
in waiting, was likely to be deeply attached to the person as well
as to the position of the Mikado; that he, like the rest of the
Kugés, would probably treasure up the insults which were freely
showered on his master, with a view to future vengeance.
Thanks to the uncompromising tactics of the despot, the
reigning Mikado (there were three in exile) was a boy,
aroi fainéant, a puppet; but he
was hedged about with the intangible and mystic attributes of the
Mikadoate, and the buffets he received reverberated along the line
of Kugés into the hearts of the lower class. To possess the person
of the Emperor was doubtless pleasing to the possessor--a trump
card--but those who did not possess him felt his thraldom bitterly.
That his daughter should wed the heir of the all-powerful Hojo was
satisfactory and flattering to Nara. So long as the tyrant lived
against whom it was hopeless to struggle, he would mask his game;
but after his death, what then? He was expected to assume the
functions of chief adviser, and keep the successor straight--was,
in fact, to tighten the bonds about his master's limbs, for the
behoof of the execrated family.
This was whimsical--illogically planned--and Hojo a fool for
his pains, When he contemplated the folly of the man he hated in
his heart, the grim visage of the cautious Nara was puckered into
unaccustomed smiles. The advice he would give in the future--so the
wily lord decided--must depend on the attitude of his son-in-law,
and be guided by the course of events for the benefit of the
imperial prisoner. In his mind's eye (if Hojo could only have
guessed it!) he beheld with secret exultation the brutish No-Kami
sinking lower and lower by sure degrees into debauchery, until the
moment should arrive when the ruler would become the ruled. And
then--and then! Well, time must show what then. Sufficient for the
day is its labour.
Just as a Nimrod of the chase may fly safely over tremendous
obstacles and be undone by a ditch at last, so was it with old
Hojo. He sallied forth one day to put down an insignificant riot in
never tranquil Satsuma, and received there his quietus. As already
related, the faithful Tomoyé died with him, and No-Kami--juvenile,
inexperienced, and cruel--was called to reign in his stead. And
now, no longer restrained in the smallest degree by respect for a
severe mother or fear of a fiery father, the new despot, surrounded
by parasites, gave free rein to all his vices.
The unaccustomed period of peace came to an abrupt
conclusion. The young Mikado having been goaded one day to
remonstrate with his new jailor, the latter raised his fan and
slapped the august cheek. The Kugés flew to arms to avenge their
outraged lord, but No-Kami, with the aureole of his father's
prestige still about him, was too much for them. The nobles who
dwelt in the palace bore but little of the stamp of warriors. The
astute Nara, whilst hating the young man, saw that now, while the
aureole remained unfaded, it was not yet the time to strike. He
assumed therefore, with much parade of zeal,
therôleof mediator between his
master and his son-in-law. At first in vain.
An unorganised band of patriots took the field, who were
speedily routed and slain; and No-Kami, like the tyrant that he
was, ungenerously pursued his advantage. Thanks to Nara's
intervention, he refrained from deposing the Mikado; but he made up
for this act of clemency by committing outrageous deeds. Banishment
and confiscation were the order of the day. The estates of those
who had dared to unsheath thekatanawere distributed among the minions of the despot. All over
Japan, those who loved their country heard with groans of the
annihilation of the loyalists, and the pitiful condition of the
Emperors. There was a puppet Mikado at Kiŷoto, and a nominal Shogun
at Kamakura, but they were both under the tutelage of Hojo.
No-Kami, as Nara hoped and expected, flushed with easy
victory, and drunk with blood, resigned himself for a while to
luxury, and neglected public business. A horde of rapacious bravos
and licensed bandits sucked the lifeblood and paralysed the
energies of the people. The weight of taxes, that ever crushes the
spirit of the Asiatic peasant, grew heavier, day by day, until
existence became intolerable. How was an end to be put to this
nightmare? That was the question which all were fearfully
whispering, and to which there seemed no solution.
No-Kami, if self-indulgent and ruthless, was no zany. He knew
that his position was to be maintained by fear and a strong hand,
and that enervation meant destruction. Bundles of bamboo, when
bound together, will dam a stream, though each separate stem is but
a feeble wand. The insurrection of effeminate Kugés had been
precipitate and foolish. If the whole country were to rise like one
man, he would, as he was aware, be swept like rice chaff into the
sea. In the mutual jealousy of the Daimios lay his chief safeguard.
While plunging each in separate discomfort, union at all costs must
be prevented. Attempts at conspiracy among the nobles, or at
combinations among the lower classes, must be frustrated, and to
that end he gave strict orders to officials and tax-collectors to
allow of no public meetings. The people were to pay what was
demanded of them, humbly and dutifully, as best they could, but on
no account were to be permitted to hold gatherings. Even the great
festivals of the year were for a while to be discontinued.
Over and above these precautions, the tyrant surrounded his
person with a picked body-guard of Samurai, or two-sword men;
hedged his fortress with bristling defences; and recalled his
brother, the brilliant Sampei, from his career of victory
abroad.
Urged possibly by a spirit of contrariness, a contempt for
the society of his prisoner and the Kugés--perhaps by a sense of
freedom from personal danger there--the favourite abode of No-Kami
was his castle of Tsu, four days' journey from the capital, over
precipitous hills. Here he loved to dwell, surrounded by his
brawling warriors; sojourning from time to time, when business
called him to Kiŷoto, at a small but superb villa, called the
Golden House, which stood secluded in a park on the outskirts of
the sacred city.
The castle of Tsu was one of the strongest in Japan (the
outline of its foundations still remains to attest to its vast
area), and covered, within the square space of the outer moat,
sufficient ground to accommodate an army. This outer moat, upon
which many a shallop floated, was wide and deep and sluggish on
three sides, masked by a luxuriant crop of lotos; while the fourth
wall was washed by a rapidly-running river, the Iwatagawa, which a
couple of miles away brawled into the sea. Out of the water rose a
platform of great stones, with a fringe of gnarled and rusty pines,
through which were visible battlements of earth crowned by a low
parapet. At each corner was a huge four-storied building, fitted
with four wide roofs of sculptured copper; the walls of whitewashed
plaster within frameworks of unpainted wood. Inside this outer
defence was a recreation and drill-ground of sufficient extent to
allow of room for jousts and spectators, as well as trees and
vegetable gardens, and a village of wooden huts for soldiery and
camp followers. Dwellings of a better class were clustered like
seashells about the second or inner moat, which enclosed a second
wall.
Within the inner square was a space of considerable size, in
the centre of which uprose the castle, a four-sided tower three
hundred feet in height, tapering towards the top. By reason of its
many roofs or verandahs of burnished and sculptured bronze, it
seemed more like a cluster of many towers, the centre one the
loftiest; and a picturesque object it was, for owing to the
prevalence of earthquakes, all the walls above the foundation
platform were of whitened mud and plaster, enclosed like the corner
buildings within frames of timber; while the middle roof reared its
head with overhanging eaves to a sharp point, crowned on the apex
by a great fish, fashioned of pure gold.
This fortress was, barring miracle or treachery, justly
reputed impregnable. Both moats were crossed by drawbridges, as an
extra caution against surprise. The outer entrance was approached
round a corner, so that the gate with its side postern was doubly
commanded from above. Even if the outer wall were stormed, the
inner one frowned on the intruder with manifold engines, while the
ground about it could be rendered untenable by missiles from the
summit of the tower.
A bowshot from the outer moat, westward from the river bank,
the town of Tsu, with straggling suburbs, meandered, low and grey,
like a long serpent. All Japanese towns are of one colour, walls
and roofs alike, of wood unpainted and weatherworn, rendered a
shade more silvery by clusters of pale lichen; but Tsu was more
monotonously gloomy in aspect than most, by reason of damp and
misery. The country close around, with the exception of two low
hills, was flat and sedgy, broken by marshes and shallow rivulets.
Away, hazy, melting into blue, could be discerned the encircling
peaks of the range, beyond which is Kiŷoto. Grand mountains these,
rugged and austere, with many a beetling crag. Mikuni Yama; Outake
San; and away to the south-east Asama Yama, the majestic chief
volcano of Japan.
The town of Tsu differed from others in that it displayed
none of the spick-and-span cleanliness for which the land of the
Rising Sun is as conspicuous as European Holland. The outlying
cottages bore the stamp of squalor and ague, standing in oozy
sludge. So did the people bear the brand of sorrow, as, listless
and inert, they dragged their heavy feet. As a poor show of
enterprise, a few unripe persimmons, which no one desired to buy,
were exposed for sale in the mire; while here and there a tray of
sorrel-like leaves were placed to dry (?)--a plant used for dying
blue the cotton which is the common garment of the peasant. There
was none of the briskness and gaiety to be seen that make rural
Japan so cheery. None of the incessant chatter and laughter and
pattering of clogs, the rush-and-tumble of naked brown babies, the
whirr of the silk-looms, the busy hammer of the carpenters.
The houses, wide open to the street, displayed the usual
raised platform of wood, smoothly planed, covered with matting,
withhibachior firebox in the
middle; but there was no brilliant glimpse beyond of the wonderful
toy gardens, with rocks and dwarfed trees and straying tortoises
and gaudy flowers and crickets in tiny cages, which distinguish a
prosperous village. The paper windows or screens being always
pushed back in their grooves during the day, a rustic Japanese
household of the lower class may be said to live in public; for,
till the screens are replaced, which they usually are at dusk,
there may be said to be no privacy. You have a free view of goodman
or matron in the bath, or at the toilet, or eating, or sleeping, or
at work, and unabashed--with innocence sometimes for only
garment--they nod to you pleasantly with a cheerful "Ohayo!" as you
pass. Tsu was too degraded, steeped to the lips in grinding
poverty, to have energy for work or washing, much less for the
homely ornament of a single lily in a pot. Almost entirely nude the
men, unkempt and frowsy, lolled and slept--such a marvellous
variety of attitudes of sleep a sculptor might find there--while
the housewife, thin and sallow, naked to the waist, fumbled feebly
over the weaving of cheap hats, or grass sandals for man and
horse.
Of course the town could boast of a superior quarter, where,
in front of houses of a better kind, were flapping blue cotton
awnings, each one adorned with the dominant daimio's cognisance.
Into one of these, apparently the cleanest and the best, we will
enter (first removing our clogs and swords), for what is proceeding
within should interest us somewhat.
