KOSAKA JINNAI
When Takéda Shingen swept down upon the lower provinces in 1571, fought
a rear guard action at Mikatagahara, in which he nearly extinguished
Tokugawa Iyeyasu, with a taste of the latter's remarkable powers of
recuperation, he went on to his real aim of a trial of strength with the
main Oda forces in Mikawa and O[u]mi. The great captain lost his life by
a stray bullet before Noda castle. His death for long kept secret, until
the northern forces had withdrawn into the fastnesses of Kai, the war
languished, to be renewed with greater activity under the rash and
ignorant leadership of his son. Katsuyori and his tribe cut belly at
Temmoku-zan, the last and successful bid of Iyeyasu against his former
enemies. Then the Tokugawa standard was planted from Suruga to Mikawa,
and Iyeyasu became indisputably the first of Nobunaga's vassals--and one
never thoroughly trusted.
Among the twenty-four captains of Takéda Shingen was a Kosaka Danjo[u]
no Chu[u]den. His son Heima inherited the devotion, as well as the fief,
of the father. Unlike many of the Takéda vassals in Kai he clung to
Katsuyori Ko[u] through all the bad weather of that unlucky prince. Kai
was no longer a safe place for vassals true to the native House. Better
luck could be assured with the old enemies, the Uesugi in the North. But
Heima would not seek other service than that of his once lord. He only
sought a place to live.
When the ex-soldier appeared with his wife in the village of
Nishi-Furutsuka at the base of Tsukuba, the people thereabouts had more
than strong suspicion that he who came so quietly into their midst was
not of their kind. However his presence was accepted. His willingness to
take up farm labour and another status, to become a _go[u]shi_ or
gentleman farmer, his valued aid and leadership in the troubled times
which followed, were much appreciated. The year 1599 found the old fox
Iyeyasu Ko[u] planted in Edo castle; and Jisuké, as Heima now called
himself, leaning over the cradle of a boy just born--a very jewel.
Jisuké's wife was now over forty years in age. Hence this unexpected
offspring was all the dearer. In the years there had been losses and
distress. The new-comer surely was the gift from the Kwannondo[u]
nestled on the slopes of the mountain far above the village. To the Lady
Merciful many the prayers for such aid.
The child grew and prospered. A farmer's boy, yet he was the _bushi's_
son; made plain in every action. Under the tutelage of the priests of
the neighbouring Zen temple he learned all that they chose to teach, far
outstripped his fellows, and in class room and in sport was their
natural leader. Sport was the better test. With years Jinnosuké tired of
the clerical teaching. The leader of the village band he was its
mainstay in the wars with boys of rival hamlets thereabouts. These were
soon driven away, and their own precincts invaded at will. The mountain
became distinctively the property of Jinnosuké and his youthful
companions, whose whole sport was devoted to mimic warfare. Their
leader, thus unchallenged, became more and more reckless; more and more
longed to distinguish himself by some feat beyond mere counterfeit war.
One day, under his direction, in the storming of the hill which
represented the enemy's castle, much brushwood and dried leaves were
gathered. "Now then! Set the fire! The foe, blinded by the smoke,
perishes under our blows. On! On!" The other children eagerly obeyed.
The blazing mass towered up and up. The trees now were on fire. The wind
blowing fiercely drove the fire directly on to the Kwannondo[u], which
stood for the citadel of the besieged. Soon the temple itself was in
flames. Greatly excited the boys swarmed amid the smoke and confusion as
if in real battle. "Now--for the plunder!" At Jinnosuké's order the
furniture of the temple was made the object of loot, heaped up at a safe
distance for future division.
Thus engaged loud shouts met their ears. In fright the band of
youngsters turned to meet the presence of the enraged incumbent, the
_do[u]mori_. The temple was his charge and residence. His small
necessities were supplied by visits to the villages below. "Oi! Oi!
wretched little villains! Thus to fire the temple in your sport is most
scandalous. Surely your heads shall be wrung off--one by one. Terrible
the punishment--from Heaven and the Daikwan."[20] The boys in confusion
began to slink away. Then the voice of Jinnosuké rose above the tumult.
"On! On! This priest stinks of blood. Be not cowards! The commander of
the castle would frighten with words. 'Tis he who is afraid. It is his
part to cut belly in defeat and die amid the ruins." In a trice the
whole pack had faced around. Boldly with staves they set upon the
priest. Numbers brought him helpless to the ground. There was a large
stone lying close by. Heaving it to his shoulder Jinnosuké stood over
the prostrate man. "According to rule the matter is thus to be
conducted. This fellow is to be given the finishing stroke; then buried
in the castle ruins." He cast down the heavy block with all his force.
The priest's brains were spattered on the ground. Under the direction of
Jinnosuké the body with feebly twitching limbs was thrown into the now
blazing mass of the temple. Then forming in line, and raising the shout
of victory, the youthful band of heroes marched off to the village.
Under pain of his displeasure--which meant much--Jinnosuké forbade any
bragging or reference to the affair. Wisely: a day or two after a
peasant came on the scene. In fright the man hastened to make report. At
once buzz was most tremendous. Was it accident or the work of thieves,
this disaster? Said one man sagely--"The _do[u]mori_ was a great
drunkard. Deign to consider. The temple furniture is untouched. Thieves
would have carried it off. He carried it out to safety, to fall a victim
in a further attempt at salvage. The offence lies with the priest, not
with the villagers." The report pleased all, none too anxious to offend
the bands of robbers ranging the mountain mass and the neighbouring
villages. Thus report was made by the village council to the Daikwan's
office. The temple authorities had a severe reprimand for allowing such
a drunkard to be in charge of the shrine. Jinnosuké stuck his tongue in
his cheek. "Trust to the valour and skill of this Jinnosuké. These
constables are fools." But his companions were a little frightened with
this late exploit. Their numbers fell off. Many of them now came to the
age fit for farm work. Jinnosuké was not long in finding substitutes in
the real thieves who haunted the neighbourhood. Their spy, and often
engaged in their raids, yet in his own district he was only known as a
bad and dissipated boy.
Something of this had to come to the ears of Jisuké; but not the full
extent of his son's wickedness. He sought a remedy for what he thought
mere wild behaviour. Now in the town, years ago, there had lived a poor
farmer and his wife; "water drinkers," in the local expression for
bitter poverty. The man laboured at day tasks, and the wife laboured as
hard with him, bearing her baby girl on her back. Jisuké aided as he
could, and as was his wont, and when the pair were taken down and died
with a prevailing epidemic disease, it was Jisuké and his wife who took
the child to themselves, to bring her up as their own. O'Ichi San grew
into a beautiful girl, and at this time Jisuké and his wife trusted to
her favour and influence to bring Jinnosuké to the sedateness and
regularity of a farmer's life. The girl blushed and looked down as she
listened to what was more than request, though put in mildest form. "One
so humble is hardly likely to please the young master. Filial duty bids
this Ichi to obey, and yield her person at command." The mother was more
than gratified at the assent and modesty--"Dutiful you have always been.
We parents have no eyes. The whole matter is left to you. If Jinnosuké
can be taken by your person, perchance he will devote his time to home
and the farm work, now so irksome to his father. Where he goes in these
long absences is not known; they can be for no good purpose." Thus the
arrangement was made. The girl now busied herself about and with
Jinnosuké. She was the one to attend to all his comforts, to await his
often late return. Thus used to her he soon began to look on her with
anything but brotherly eyes. Was she not the daughter of old
Taro[u]bei, the water drinker? He knew the story well. Thus one night he
took O'Ichi to himself. She pleased him--as with the parents. No
objection was anywhere raised to the connection; a village of Nippon has
cognizance of such matters; and in short order public notice was given
of the marriage.
The influence was not of long duration. With his wife's pregnancy
Jinnosuké disappeared. From the age of thirteen years he had been hand
in glove with all the rough fellows of the district. These were stirring
times in the south. There was something to pick up. After all was not he
a _samurai's_ son. Jinnosuké was too late for action. Although but
seventeen years old his short sturdy and astonishingly active frame and
skill with weapons was a welcome addition to the band that Ogita
Kuro[u]ji had gathered after the fall of O[u]saka-jo[u]. Now Jinnosuké
figured as Kosaka Jinnai. Here first he came in contact with the law and
Aoyama Shu[u]zen. On this failure he betook himself at once to the
disguise of his native village; to enter it as quietly as if he never
had left it, to find himself the father of a baby girl, Kikujo[u], and
to procreate another on his patient wife. But before this second girl,
O'Yui, was born Jinnosuké, as the village still knew him, had again
disappeared. This was in strict accordance with his principle, of which
something is to be said.
Of these O[u]saka _ro[u]nin_, determined not to take another master,
there were three Jinnai. In council over past failure, said Tomizawa
Jinnai.[21] "The ambition of this Tomizawa?" He laughed. Jinnai was no
distinctive term in this gathering. "It is to collect all the beautiful
costumes of Nippon."--"Admirable indeed!" chimed in Sho[u]ji Jinnai (or
Jinémon, as he called himself). "But why stop at the surface? As you
know, the ambition of this Sho[u]ji had long been to see gathered
together all the most beautiful women of Nippon. And you, Kosaka?"--"To
see all distinction done away with between other men's property and my
own."--"Splendid indeed! But don't poach on our ground." The two others
clapped their hands and laughed. Kosaka Jinnai did not. "Well then--to
put the matter to the test," said he callously. Tomizawa Jinnai
forthwith took up the collection of old clothing and costumes of divers
sorts. He can be said to be the ancestor of the old clothes trade of
Edo--To[u]kyo[u]; and the Tomizawacho[u] at Ningyo[u]cho[u] no
Yokocho[u], the place of his residence, is his memorial. To this day it
is a centre for old clothes shops. Sho[u]ji Jinnai pressed the petition
he had once put in (Keicho[u] 17th year--1612) as Jinémon before being
finally convinced of the righteousness of a Tokugawa world. He was lucky
enough to find oblivion and reward in the permit for a harlot quarter.
As its bailiff (_nanushi_) he assembled three thousand beautiful women
for the service of the Yoshiwara, then at Fukiyacho[u] near Nihonbashi,
and of which O[u]mondori is the chief relic. Kosaka Jinnai, under such
encouragement and auspices, betook himself more vigorously than ever to
robbery; enhanced by a mighty idea which the years gradually brought to
ripeness in his mind. From being a sandal bearer Hidéyoshi the Taiko[u]
had risen to rule. He, Jinnai, would emulate the example and rise to
rule from being a bandit. He was not, and would not be, the only one of
the kind in the political world. Hence his wide travels through the
provinces, his seeking out all the most desperate and villainous
characters, for he had "trust" in few others, his weaving together of a
vast conspiracy of crime, not to be equalled in any time but the closing
days of the Ashikaga Sho[u]gunate--and that not so far off. Of this
period of Jinnai's life there is a tale to relate.