In the eighteenth year of Keichō (A.D. 1613) Toyotomi Hideyoshi had
been dead fourteen years and his son, Hideyori, now two and twenty
should have been ruling over Japan as Regent in his stead. But his
adherents had sustained a crushing defeat at the hands of the troops
of his rival, Tokugawa Iyeyasu, at the battle of Sekigahara, and the
tide of fortune had turned from him. All the daimios had given in their
allegiance to Iyeyasu, and he was appointed Shogun by the Emperor. A
few years later he abdicated in favour of his son Hidetada, though
in reality he still steered the ship of state. On the other hand
Hideyori’s star had been fast declining. He was now merely the Lord of
Settsu and Kawachi, comparatively, small provinces, with the honorary
title of “Minister of the Right.” Nevertheless, in his stronghold,
the “impregnable” Castle of Osaka, built by his father, Hideyoshi,
at an enormous cost, there were still, it is said, some 100,000
men, among whom were many brave and loyal officers such as Katagiri
Katsumoto, Sanada Yukimura, Suzukida Hayato and Kimura Shigenari, the
last of whom is the hero of this story.
A few powerful daimios, remembering with gratitude the great favours
they had received from Hideyoshi, in secret still adhered to the cause
of his son and watched for an opportunity to strike for the restoration
of the Toyotomis’ power and prestige. Iyeyasu, with his accustomed keen
insight, perceived the situation and determined by one stroke to settle
matters once for all. This was the state of affairs between the two
great families, and it was felt that hostilities might break out again
at any moment.
* * * * *
Shigenari now twenty years of age had served Hideyori as page and
attendant since his childhood. His intelligence and loyalty, above all,
his prowess in arms and knowledge of tactics had just led Hideyori’s
Prime Councillor, Katagiri Katsumoto, to promote him over the heads
of some older men to a high rank in the army, with the title of
Nagato-no-Kami, or Lord of Nagato province, and an annual allowance of
7,000 _koku_ of rice. Mano Yorikané, one of Hideyori’s veteran
generals, admiring his courage and sterling character, gave tangible
proof of his admiration by bestowing his beautiful and accomplished
daughter, Aoyagi, on him for a wife.
With all his manly attributes and physical strength, Shigenari was
exceptionally handsome, of a slender build, and possessed of a gentle
graceful manner. At first glance it was his beauty and refinement that
struck the beholder, not his strength and ability. For this reason
those of the warriors who had not had opportunity to witness his skill
as a soldier were inclined to regard his sudden promotion with wonder
and some suspicion, one or two even going so far as to say—behind
his back—“Shigenari is esteemed above his merits. He is effeminate
and gentle; in war he will show cowardice and fly from the sounds of
strife.” Among the backbiters was a _chabōzu_ or “tea-priest”[6] called
Yamazoé Ryōkwan, a notorious bully and drunkard. Possessing undoubted
skill in military arts and great muscular strength, he was apt to be
boastful; and the idea seized him to pick a quarrel with Shigenari
and thereby to provoke a contest between them and humiliate the courtly
hero.
With this object Ryōkwan one day hid himself behind a screen; and as
Shigenari passed hurriedly along the matted corridor on his way to the
audience chamber, the tea-priest suddenly thrust his sheathed sword in
his way. The surprised warrior leapt lightly over it, but the skirt of
his _hakama_ touched it as he did so. Ryōkwan sprang out of ambush.
“Kimura Dono, you go too fast!” he shouted angrily. Shigenari turned
back.
“Excuse my rudeness,” he said courteously.
“Your apology is too late! It came only after my demand.”
“Forgive my double rudeness, Yamazoé, I was in such haste that I did
not consider. Excuse me!”
“You speak like a fool! If you are late it is your own fault, and do
you think you may tread on my sword with impunity? It is true that I
am a tea-priest and your inferior in rank, yet I also am a samurai! A
samurai’s sword is his soul. You have trodden on my soul, and such an
insult is inexcusable! Out of malice you did it. I challenge you to a
duel!”
“You speak wildly; why should I bear malice towards you, or wish
to insult you?”
“Then why did you tread on my sword?”
“I have already explained;—because I am in haste to present myself to
my lord.”
“Then allow me to do to you what I choose and I will accept your
apology.”
“By all means; do to me as you wish.”
“I will take that!” and he struck a blow at Shigenari’s cheek with all
the force of his bare hand.
Shigenari smiled.
“Thank you for your chastisement!” he said, and went on his way.
Ryōkwan now strutted arrogantly about the castle, giving every one
he met a highly-coloured account of what had occurred, and calling
Shigenari “a white-livered samurai.” Those who were jealous of
Shigenari’s promotion repeated the story in still more exaggerated
terms, in consequence of which many samurai who had no real knowledge
of the young officer’s character believed the tale and laughed to scorn
his supposed pusillanimity. Shigenari knew all about this, but did not
let it disturb him at all.
Not so his father-in-law, Yorikané. Being fiery-tempered and extremely
punctilious concerning points of honour, he no sooner heard of the
incident than he hurried to Shigenari’s residence and demanded to see
him.
“Welcome, father-in-law,” said the young man composedly. “Pray sit
down.”
“Sit down? No, I cannot sit down, and never again call me ‘father.’ I
have come to tell you that you must divorce my daughter at once.”
“This is very sudden! What reason can you give for your strange
request?”
“Fool that I was to give my daughter to a white-livered samurai such as
you!”
“Ha! Do you use such a term of me!”
“You feign ignorance! Well, then, I will tell you why men call you a
coward. Listen! It is said you let your cheek be struck by that low
tea-priest a day or two ago and he still lives to tell the tale! Has it
passed from your mind so soon? Ah, I see you recollect it!”
“Surely, I remember that Ryōkwan struck my cheek with his hand, but
what of it!”
“What of it? What of it? Can a samurai receive a deadly insult like
that and suffer it to pass unnoticed! Coward! How came you to
permit him to do it in the first instance?”
“Ryōkwan put his sword in my way as I was hurrying to the presence of
my lord; the hem of my _hakama_ just touched it as I passed over but
the man insisted that I had trodden on it and by design. It is evident
he meant to pick a quarrel with me in any case. I apologised, but he
refused to listen. Deeming it waste of time to argue with a bully,
to end the matter as speedily as possible, I let him strike me as he
wished. That is the whole affair.”
“Indolent coward!” exclaimed Yorikané, more incensed now that he
heard Shigenari’s account than he had been before. “Ryōkwan is a mere
tea-priest, and you are a samurai of high rank in close attendance on
our lord. There can be no comparison as to your respective standing—you
should have killed him on the spot. Your conduct is totally
inexplicable!”
“You are mistaken, father, when you say I should have killed him.”
“How? There can be no two opinions on the matter. Where is your sense
of honour? I will waste no more words on you. Let my daughter return
home at once. I am ashamed to be called your father-in-law.”
“Calm yourself, father, and hear me for but a moment. Do you imagine I
overlooked Ryōkwan’s insolent behaviour because I was afraid of him?”
“What else can I think?”
“Then listen. Recollect, father, that a samurai’s life is not his
own—it belongs to his liege lord. Judging from the strained relations
between our clan and the Tokugawas hostilities may break out at any
time....” here Shigenari’s brow clouded and he sighed deeply; “Yes,
war may break out at any moment now, and on the result hangs the
future destiny of our lord and his clan. It is my intention to fight
to the utmost of my strength and ability to requite if it be but the
thousandth part of the many and great favours I have received from our
gracious master. I shall sell my blood dear for his cause. And this is
the bounden duty of every one of us, high and low alike. Our lives have
never been more precious—not one can be spared except for the cause.
If I had killed Ryōkwan out of resentment for a purely personal insult
what good would it have done? Though his rank is inferior to mine, he
is still a samurai; and as a samurai his death could not have been
passed over unnoticed. Besides, Ryōkwan, though in human form, is but
an insect in my estimation. It would be derogatory for a samurai
to unsheathe his sword in anger against a mere insect! Therefore....”
“Enough, enough!” interposed the impulsive Yorikané. “I understand; you
are right and I in my haste misjudged you entirely. Forgive me, and
forget my thoughtless words.”
Shigenari smiled, well pleased at the reconciliation.
“We are father and son again,” went on the older man. “I am proud of
the connection—you are a true samurai. But, tell me,” he added with a
chuckle. “You call Ryōkwan an insect; to what insect do you compare
him?”
“To a fly,” answered Shigenari. “A fly alights on filth or on an
Emperor’s crown—it makes no distinction between good and bad, high
or low. But no one would call a fly an impolite insect. Looking on
Ryōkwan as a man one feels anger and disgust; consider he is but a fly
and it is unreasonable to have any such feelings, he is beneath them.
Therefore I take no notice of anything he can do or say.”
“Well argued, Shigenari! What a noble-minded man you are! I admire
your wisdom and forbearance. As you say, the war cloud is fast
darkening over us and it behoves all loyal samurai to be on their
guard and not waste their energies on petty quarrels of their
own. Again I ask your pardon for misconstruing your conduct. Though
younger in years, dear Shigenari, you are older than I in judgment and
forethought. Though old I am still as rash and impetuous as a boy.”
More than satisfied with the explanation he had received, Yorikané
returned home, and thenceforth did his best to clear his son-in-law
from the imputation of cowardice. He spoke in glowing terms of
Shigenari’s real motive in his behaviour to the tea-priest, and
told in what light he regarded him. Public opinion is ever quick
to change; and those who had scoffed were soon loud in praise of
Shigenari’s self-repression and loyalty. Ryōkwan, on the other hand,
was universally laughed at and nicknamed the “Fly-priest.” As a natural
consequence, instead of repenting of his misdeed, Ryōkwan’s envy and
hatred of his superior increased, and he was ever on the watch for a
chance to vent his spite.
There was a large bath-room in the castle which was used in common by
all. It was usual for the samurai on night duty to bathe several at the
same time. One evening Ryōkwan happened to see Shigenari going into the
bath-room, and thinking the time to satisfy his grudge had come, he
followed him unobserved. The room was misty with the dense vapour
rising from the hot water, and four or five samurai were already in the
large square bath. Taking one of them to be Shigenari the tea-priest
approached, and mustering all his strength, struck his head a heavy
blow. The naked man sprang out of the water, and seizing Ryōkwan by
the collar, threw him on the floor where he returned the blow he had
received with compound interest.
“I will teach you to strike a defenceless man without provocation!” he
roared. “Do you know who I am? Suzukida Hayato! Prepare for instant
death!” Then seeing who it was he was belabouring, he exclaimed in
astonishment:—
“Why, it’s Ryōkwan, the contemptible Fly-priest! What is your object in
striking my head as you did? You will find that though you are only a
fly you cannot insult Suzukida with impunity!”
Frightened almost out of his wits at the mention of the name Suzukida,
that of a hero renowned far and wide for his muscular strength, Ryōkwan
stammered out:—
“I humbly beg your pardon, Suzukida Sama; it was a mistake. I should
never think of striking you, the blow was intended for Kimura
Shigenari. Spare my life, I implore you!”
But this speech only incensed Suzukida still further.
“What?” he cried. “Would you strike your benefactor?—the man who
generously pardoned your outrageous conduct to him? Miscreant, I will
deal a blow for my friend Kimura. Die!”
With these words Suzukida raised his iron fist and assuredly Ryōkwan’s
last hour had come had it not been that some one caught the hand before
it fell. Mad with rage Suzukida struggled to free himself but in
vain—he was held as in a vice. Twisting round he saw to his surprise
that his captor was none other than Shigenari himself.
“Excuse my rudeness, Suzukida Dono. Without doubt it is as the coward
says—he mistook you for me, a circumstance for which I am extremely
sorry. It is natural you should resent such an insult, but if you
strike him with your fist you will kill him on the spot. He is my
enemy; may I request you to leave his chastisement to me?”
“Of course,” replied Suzukida with a laugh and nod of assent as
Shigenari released him. “It is for you to deal with him as you think
best. I am told the fellow grows more arrogant and behaves with
increasing rudeness to our comrades every day. I trust you will
see that he has cause to repent.”
As soon as Suzukida had left the room, Shigenari helped Ryōkwan to get
up, and very kindly assisted him to his own chamber where he attended
to his bruises with great solicitude. When the tea-priest had recovered
somewhat, Shigenari said to him, gently remonstrant:—
“How foolish it is of you, Ryōkwan, to be so proud of your strength
and in consequence to behave so arrogantly to your comrades and
superiors. A samurai should use his gifts for his lord’s service only.
You should exert yourself solely for the benefit of His Highness
Lord Hideyori. It is regrettable that you should waste your powers
in causeless quarrels and fights. It was fortunate for you that it
was I you insulted the other day; had it been some one else you would
undoubtedly have paid for it with your life on the instant. You have
superior muscular power and no little skill in the use of arms; now
that war is so imminent the life of every samurai is precious; that is
why I spared you—that you might live to serve in time of need. But you
did not understand my motive and sought occasion to insult me again.
How undiscriminating! If I had not interceded for you just now you
would have died a useless death at the hands of Suzukida Dono. Is not
a purposeless death like that dishonour for a samurai? If you repent
your past mistakes I will ask Suzukida Dono to overlook and pardon your
rudeness, and I am sure he will not refuse. Will you not amend your
conduct and from henceforth direct all your energies to doing your very
best for our lord and his cause, Ryōkwan?”
To this long speech delivered with a winning earnestness that pierced
him to the heart, Ryōkwan listened with bent head and averted eyes. A
few hot tears stole down his rough cheeks; he brushed them away with
his sleeve before he answered in a broken voice.
“Every word you have uttered has cut me to the heart, Kimura Sama,”
he said. “Your kindness overwhelms me. I am deeply ashamed of myself,
and I now see how blind I was not to perceive your noble and unselfish
motives in the way you acted. Oh, that I might commit _seppuku_ in
atonement! But to take my life would be in opposition to your kind
instruction: as you have pointed out it is the duty of us all to
live till we die in our lord’s cause.... If you can forgive me it is
my earnest desire that you will take me for your own retainer.
Unworthy though I am, I entreat you will not deny my request.”
Touched and pleased at the success of his remonstrance, Shigenari
gladly agreed to do as Ryōkwan asked. Having obtained permission from
Lord Hideyori, they exchanged vows as master and retainer; and thus the
brawling, overbearing drunkard of a tea-priest became a changed man,
and with all the strength of a strong nature devoted himself to the
service of the master he adored.