The doughty deeds and marvellous experiences of Funakoshi Jiuyémon are
perhaps, like those of Robin Hood and his Merry Men, rather
traditional than historical; but even if all or part of the deeds
which popular belief ascribes to him be false, his story conveys a
true picture of manners and customs. Above all, the manner of the
vengeance which he wreaked upon the wife who had dishonoured him, and
upon her lover, shows the high importance which the Japanese attach to
the sanctity of the marriage tie.
The 50th and 51st chapters of the "Legacy of Iyéyasu," already quoted,
say: "If a married woman of the agricultural, artisan, or commercial
class shall secretly have intercourse with another man, it is not
necessary for the husband to enter a complaint against the persons
thus confusing the great relation of mankind, but he may put them both
to death. Nevertheless, should he slay one of them and spare the
other, his guilt is the same as that of the unrighteous persons.
"In the event, however, of advice being sought, the parties not having
been slain, accede to the wishes of the complainant with, regard to
putting them to death or not.
"Mankind, in whose bodies the male and female elements induce a
natural desire towards the same object, do not look upon such
practices with aversion; and the adjudication of such cases is a
matter of special deliberation and consultation.
"Men and women of the military class are expected to know better than
to occasion disturbance by violating existing regulations; and such an
one breaking the regulations by lewd, trifling, or illicit intercourse
shall at once be punished, without deliberation or consultation. It is
not the same in this case as in that of agriculturists, artisans, and
traders."
As a criminal offence, adultery was, according to the ancient laws of
Japan, punished by crucifixion. In more modern times it has been
punished by decapitation and the disgraceful exposure of the head
after death; but if the murder of the injured husband accompany the
crime of adultery, then the guilty parties are crucified to this day.
At the present time the husband is no longer allowed to take the law
into his own hands: he must report the matter to the Government, and
trust to the State to avenge his honour.
Sacred as the marriage tie is so long as it lasts, the law which cuts
it is curiously facile, or rather there is no law: a man may turn his
wife out of doors, as it may suit his fancy. An example of this
practice was shown in the story of "The Forty-seven Rônins." A husband
has but to report the matter to his lord, and the ceremony of divorce
is completed. Thus, in the days of the Shoguns' power, a Hatamoto who
had divorced his wife reported the matter to the Shogun. A Daimio's
retainer reports the matter to his Prince.
The facility of divorce, however, seems to be but rarely taken
advantage of: this is probably owing to the practice of keeping
concubines. It has often been asked, Are the Japanese polygamists? The
answer is, Yes and no. They marry but one wife; but a man may,
according to his station and means, have one or more concubines in
addition. The Emperor has twelve concubines, called Kisaki; and
Iyéyasu, alluding forcibly to excess in this respect as _teterrima
belli causa_, laid down that the princes might have eight, high
officers five, and ordinary Samurai two handmaids. "In the olden
times," he writes, "the downfall of castles and the overthrow of
kingdoms all proceeded from this alone. Why is not the indulgence of
passions guarded against?"
The difference between the position of the wife and that of the
concubine is marked. The legitimate wife is to the handmaid as a lord
is to his vassal. Concubinage being a legitimate institution, the son
of a handmaid is no bastard, nor is he in any way the child of shame;
and yet, as a general rule, the son of the bondwoman is not heir with
the son of the free, for the son of the wife inherits before the son
of a concubine, even where the latter be the elder; and it frequently
happens that a noble, having children by his concubines but none by
his wife, selects a younger brother of his own, or even adopts the son
of some relative, to succeed him in the family honours. The family
line is considered to be thus more purely preserved. The law of
succession is, however, extremely lax. Excellent personal merits will
sometimes secure to the left-handed son the inheritance of his
ancestors; and it often occurs that the son of a concubine, who is
debarred from succeeding to his own father, is adopted as the heir of
a relation or friend of even higher rank. When the wife of a noble has
a daughter but no son, the practice is to adopt a youth of suitable
family and age, who marries the girl and inherits as a son.
The principle of adoption is universal among all classes, from the
Emperor down to his meanest subject; nor is the family line considered
to have been broken because an adopted son has succeeded to the
estates. Indeed, should a noble die without heir male, either begotten
or adopted, his lands are forfeited to the State. It is a matter of
care that the person adopted should be himself sprung from a stock of
rank suited to that of the family into which he is to be received.
Sixteen and upwards being considered the marriageable age for a man,
it is not usual for persons below that age to adopt an heir; yet an
infant at the point of death may adopt a person older than himself,
that the family line may not become extinct.
An account of the marriage ceremony will be found in the Appendix upon
the subject.
In the olden time, in the island of Shikoku[40] there lived one
Funakoshi Jiuyémon, a brave Samurai and accomplished man, who was in
great favour with the prince, his master. One day, at a drinking-bout,
a quarrel sprung up between him and a brother-officer, which resulted
in a duel upon the spot, in which Jiuyémon killed his adversary. When
Jiuyémon awoke to a sense of what he had done, he was struck with
remorse, and he thought to disembowel himself; but, receiving a
private summons from his lord, he went to the castle, and the prince
said to him--
"So it seems that you have been getting drunk and quarrelling, and
that you have killed one of your friends; and now I suppose you will
have determined to perform _hara-kiri_. It is a great pity, and in the
face of the laws I can do nothing for you openly. Still, if you will
escape and fly from this part of the country for a while, in two
years' time the affair will have blown over, and I will allow you to
return."
[Footnote 40: _Shikoku_, one of the southern islands separated from
the chief island of Japan by the beautiful "Inland Sea;" it is called
_Shikoku_, or the "Four Provinces," because it is divided into the
four provinces, _Awa, Sanuki, Iyo,_ and _Tosa_.]
And with these words the prince presented him with a fine sword, made
by Sukésada,[41] and a hundred ounces of silver, and, having bade him
farewell, entered his private apartments; and Jiuyémon, prostrating
himself, wept tears of gratitude; then, taking the sword and the
money, he went home and prepared to fly from the province, and
secretly took leave of his relations, each of whom made him some
parting present. These gifts, together with his own money, and what he
had received from the prince, made up a sum of two hundred and fifty
ounces of silver, with which and his Sukésada sword he escaped under
cover of darkness, and went to a sea-port called Marugamé, in the
province of Sanuki, where he proposed to wait for an opportunity of
setting sail for Osaka. As ill luck would have it, the wind being
contrary, he had to remain three days idle; but at last the wind
changed; so he went down to the beach, thinking that he should
certainly find a junk about to sail; and as he was looking about him,
a sailor came up, and said--
"If your honour is minded to take a trip to Osaka, my ship is bound
thither, and I should be glad to take you with me as passenger."
"That's exactly what I wanted. I will gladly take a passage," replied
Jiuyémon, who was delighted at the chance.
[Footnote 41: _Sukésada_, a famous family of swordsmiths, belonging to
the Bizen clan. The Bizen men are notoriously good armourers, and
their blades fetch high prices. The sword of Jiuyémon is said to have
been made by one of the Sukésada who lived about 290 years ago.]
"Well, then, we must set sail at once, so please come on board
without delay."
So Jiuyémon went with him and embarked; and as they left the harbour
and struck into the open sea, the moon was just rising above the
eastern hills, illumining the dark night like a noonday sun; and
Jiuyémon, taking his place in the bows of the ship, stood wrapt in
contemplation of the beauty of the scene.
[Illustration: JIUYÉMON ON BOARD THE PIRATE SHIP.]
Now it happened that the captain of the ship, whose name was Akagôshi
Kuroyémon, was a fierce pirate who, attracted by Jiuyémon's well-to-do
appearance, had determined to decoy him on board, that he might murder
and rob him; and while Jiuyémon was looking at the moon, the pirate
and his companions were collected in the stern of the ship, taking
counsel together in whispers as to how they might slay him. He, on the
other hand, having for some time past fancied their conduct somewhat
strange, bethought him that it was not prudent to lay aside his sword,
so he went towards the place where he had been sitting, and had left
his weapon lying, to fetch it, when he was stopped by three of the
pirates, who blocked up the gangway, saying--
"Stop, Sir Samurai! Unluckily for you, this ship in which you have
taken a passage belongs to the pirate Akagôshi Kuroyémon. Come, sir!
whatever money you may chance to have about you is our prize."
When Jiuyémon heard this he was greatly startled at first, but soon
recovered himself, and being an expert wrestler, kicked over two of
the pirates, and made for his sword; but in the meanwhile Shichirohei,
the younger brother of the pirate captain, had drawn the sword, and
brought it towards him, saying--
"If you want your sword, here it is!" and with that he cut at him; but
Jiuyémon avoided the blow, and closing with the ruffian, got back his
sword. Ten of the pirates then attacked him with spear and sword; but
he, putting his back against the bows of the ship, showed such good
fight that he killed three of his assailants, and the others stood
off, not daring to approach him. Then the pirate captain, Akagôshi
Kuroyémon, who had been watching the fighting from the stern, seeing
that his men stood no chance against Jiuyémon's dexterity, and that he
was only losing them to no purpose, thought to shoot him with a
matchlock. Even Jiuyémon, brave as he was, lost heart when he saw the
captain's gun pointed at him, and tried to jump into the sea; but one
of the pirates made a dash at him with a boat-hook, and caught him by
the sleeve; then Jiuyémon, in despair, took the fine Sukésada sword
which he had received from his prince, and throwing it at his captor,
pierced him through the breast so that he fell dead, and himself
plunging into the sea swam for his life. The pirate captain shot at
him and missed him, and the rest of the crew made every endeavour to
seize him with their boat-hooks, that they might avenge the death of
their mates; but it was all in vain, and Jiuyémon, having shaken off
his clothes that he might swim the better, made good his escape. So
the pirates threw the bodies of their dead comrades into the sea, and
the captain was partly consoled for their loss by the possession of
the Sukésada sword with which one of them had been transfixed.
As soon as Jiuyémon jumped over the ship's side, being a good swimmer,
he took a long dive, which carried him well out of danger, and struck
out vigorously; and although he was tired and distressed by his
exertions, he braced himself up to greater energy, and faced the waves
boldly. At last, in the far distance, to his great joy, he spied a
light, for which he made, and found that it was a ship carrying
lanterns marked with the badge of the governor of Osaka; so he hailed
her, saying--
"I have fallen into great trouble among pirates: pray rescue me."
"Who and what are you?" shouted an officer, some forty years of age.
"My name is Funakoshi Jiuyémon, and I have unwittingly fallen in with
pirates this night. I have escaped so far: I pray you save me, lest I
die."
"Hold on to this, and come up," replied the other, holding out the
butt end of a spear to him, which he caught hold of and clambered up
the ship's side. When the officer saw before him a handsome gentleman,
naked all but his loincloth, and with his hair all in disorder, he
called to his servants to bring some of his own clothes, and, having
dressed him in them, said--
"What clan do you belong to, sir?"
"Sir, I am a Rônin, and was on my way to Osaka; but the sailors of the
ship on which I had embarked were pirates;" and so he told the whole
story of the fight and of his escape.
"Well done, sir!" replied the other, astonished at his prowess. "My
name is Kajiki Tozayémon, at your service. I am an officer attached to
the governor of Osaka. Pray, have you any friends in that city?"
"No, sir, I have no friends there; but as in two years I shall be able
to return to my own country, and re-enter my lord's service, I thought
during that time to engage in trade and live as a common wardsman."
"Indeed, that's a poor prospect! However, if you will allow me, I will
do all that is in my power to assist you. Pray excuse the liberty I am
taking in making such a proposal."
Jiuyémon warmly thanked Kajiki Tozayémon for his kindness; and so they
reached Osaka without further adventures.
Jiuyémon, who had secreted in his girdle the two hundred and fifty
ounces which he had brought with him from home, bought a small house,
and started in trade as a vendor of perfumes, tooth-powder, combs, and
other toilet articles; and Kajiki Tozayémon, who treated him with
great kindness, and rendered him many services, prompted him, as he
was a single man, to take to himself a wife. Acting upon this advice,
he married a singing-girl, called O Hiyaku.[42]
[Footnote 42: The O before women's names signifies "_Imperial_," and
is simply an honorific.]
Now this O Hiyaku, although at first she seemed very affectionately
disposed towards Jiuyémon, had been, during the time that she was a
singer, a woman of bad and profligate character; and at this time
there was in Osaka a certain wrestler, named Takaségawa Kurobei, a
very handsome man, with whom O Hiyaku fell desperately in love; so
that at last, being by nature a passionate woman, she became
unfaithful to Jiuyémon. The latter, little suspecting that anything
was amiss, was in the habit of spending his evenings at the house of
his patron Kajiki Tozayémon, whose son, a youth of eighteen, named
Tônoshin, conceived a great friendship for Jiuyémon, and used
constantly to invite him to play a game at checkers; and it was on
these occasions that O Hiyaku, profiting by her husband's absence,
used to arrange her meetings with the wrestler Takaségawa.
One evening, when Jiuyémon, as was his wont, had gone out to play at
checkers with Kajiki Tônoshin, O Hiyaku took advantage of the occasion
to go and fetch the wrestler, and invite him to a little feast; and as
they were enjoying themselves over their wine, O Hiyaku said to him--
"Ah! Master Takaségawa, how wonderfully chance favours us! and how
pleasant these stolen interviews are! How much nicer still it would
be if we could only be married. But, as long as Jiuyémon is in the
way, it is impossible; and that is my one cause of distress."
"It's no use being in such a hurry. If you only have patience, we
shall be able to marry, sure enough. What you have got to look out for
now is, that Jiuyémon does not find out what we are about. I suppose
there is no chance of his coming home to-night, is there?"
"Oh dear, no! You need not be afraid. He is gone to Kajiki's house to
play checkers; so he is sure to spend the night there."
And so the guilty couple went on gossiping, with their minds at ease,
until at last they dropped off asleep.
In the meanwhile Jiuyémon, in the middle of his game at checkers, was
seized with a sudden pain in his stomach, and said to Kajiki Tônoshin,
"Young sir, I feel an unaccountable pain in my stomach. I think I had
better go home, before it gets worse."
"That is a bad job. Wait a little, and I will give you some physic;
but, at any rate, you had better spend the night here."
"Many thanks for your kindness," replied Jiuyémon; "but I had rather
go home."
So he took his leave, and went off to his own house, bearing the pain
as best he might. When he arrived in front of his own door, he tried
to open it; but the lock was fastened, and he could not get in, so he
rapped violently at the shutters to try and awaken his wife. When O
Hiyaku heard the noise, she woke with a start, and roused the
wrestler, saying to him in a whisper--
"Get up! get up! Jiuyémon has come back. You must hide as fast as
possible."
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said the wrestler, in a great fright; "here's a
pretty mess! Where on earth shall I hide myself?" and he stumbled
about in every direction looking for a hiding-place, but found none.
Jiuyémon, seeing that his wife did not come to open the door, got
impatient at last, and forced it open by unfixing the sliding shutter
and, entering the house, found himself face to face with his wife and
her lover, who were both in such confusion that they did not know what
to do. Jiuyémon, however, took no notice of them, but lit his pipe and
sat smoking and watching them in silence. At last the wrestler,
Takaségawa, broke the silence by saying--
"I thought, sir, that I should be sure to have the pleasure of finding
you at home this evening, so I came out to call upon you. When I got
here, the Lady O Hiyaku was so kind as to offer me some wine; and I
drank a little more than was good for me, so that it got into my head,
and I fell asleep. I must really apologize for having taken such a
liberty in your absence; but, indeed, although appearances are against
us, there has been nothing wrong."
"Certainly," said O Hiyaku, coming to her lover's support, "Master
Takaségawa is not at all to blame. It was I who invited him to drink
wine; so I hope you will excuse him."
Jiuyémon sat pondering the matter over in his mind for a moment, and
then said to the wrestler, "You say that you are innocent; but, of
course, that is a lie. It's no use trying to conceal your fault.
However, next year I shall, in all probability, return to my own
country, and then you may take O Hiyaku and do what you will with her:
far be it from me to care what becomes of a woman with such a stinking
heart."
When the wrestler and O Hiyaku heard Jiuyémon say this quite quietly,
they could not speak, but held their peace for very shame.
"Here, you Takaségawa," pursued he; "you may stop here to-night, if
you like it, and go home to-morrow."
"Thank you, sir," replied the wrestler, "I am much obliged to you; but
the fact is, that I have some pressing business in another part of the
town, so, with your permission, I will take my leave;" and so he went
out, covered with confusion.
As for the faithless wife, O Hiyaku, she was in great agitation,
expecting to be severely reprimanded at least; but Jiuyémon took no
notice of her, and showed no anger; only from that day forth, although
she remained in his house as his wife, he separated himself from her
entirely.
Matters went on in this way for some time, until at last, one fine
day, O Hiyaku, looking out of doors, saw the wrestler Takaségawa
passing in the street, so she called out to him--
"Dear me, Master Takaségawa, can that be you! What a long time it is
since we have met! Pray come in, and have a chat."
"Thank you, I am much obliged to you; but as I do not like the sort of
scene we had the other day, I think I had rather not accept your
invitation."
"Pray do not talk in such a cowardly manner. Next year, when Jiuyémon
goes back to his own country, he is sure to give me this house, and
then you and I can marry and live as happily as possible."
"I don't like being in too great a hurry to accept fair offers."[43]
[Footnote 43: The original is a proverbial expression like "Timeo
Danaos et dona ferentes."]
"Nonsense! There's no need for showing such delicacy about accepting
what is given you."
And as she spoke, she caught the wrestler by the hand and led him into
the house. After they had talked together for some time, she said:--
"Listen to me, Master Takaségawa. I have been thinking over all this
for some time, and I see no help for it but to kill Jiuyémon and make
an end of him."
"What do you want to do that for?"
"As long as he is alive, we cannot be married. What I propose is that
you should buy some poison, and I will put it secretly into his food.
When he is dead, we can be happy to our hearts' content."
At first Takaségawa was startled and bewildered by the audacity of
their scheme; but forgetting the gratitude which he owed to Jiuyémon
for sparing his life on the previous occasion, he replied:--
"Well, I think it can be managed. I have a friend who is a physician,
so I will get him to compound some poison for me, and will send it to
you. You must look out for a moment when your husband is not on his
guard, and get him to take it."
Having agreed upon this, Takaségawa went away, and, having employed a
physician to make up the poison, sent it to O Hiyaku in a letter,
suggesting that the poison should be mixed up with a sort of macaroni,
of which Jiuyémon was very fond. Having read the letter, she put it
carefully away in a drawer of her cupboard, and waited until Jiuyémon
should express a wish to eat some macaroni.
One day, towards the time of the New Year, when O Hiyaku had gone out
to a party with a few of her friends, it happened that Jiuyémon, being
alone in the house, was in want of some little thing, and, failing to
find it anywhere, at last bethought himself to look for it in O
Hiyaku's cupboard; and as he was searching amongst the odds and ends
which it contained, he came upon the fatal letter. When he read the
scheme for putting poison in his macaroni, he was taken aback, and
said to himself, "When I caught those two beasts in their wickedness I
spared them, because their blood would have defiled my sword; and now
they are not even grateful for my mercy. Their crime is beyond all
power of language to express, and I will kill them together."
So he put back the letter in its place, and waited for his wife to
come home. So soon as she made her appearance he said--
"You have come home early, O Hiyaku. I feel very dull and lonely this
evening; let us have a little wine."
And as he spoke without any semblance of anger, it never entered O
Hiyaku's mind that he had seen the letter; so she went about her
household duties with a quiet mind.
The following evening, as Jiuyémon was sitting in his shop casting up
his accounts, with his counting-board[44] in his hand, Takaségawa
passed by, and Jiuyémon called out to him, saying:--
"Well met, Takaségawa! I was just thinking of drinking a cup of wine
to-night; but I have no one to keep me company, and it is dull work
drinking alone. Pray come in, and drink a bout with me."
[Footnote 44: The _abacus_, or counting-board, is the means of
calculation in use throughout the Continent from St. Petersburg to
Peking, in Corea, Japan, and the Liukiu Islands.]
"Thank you, sir, I shall have much pleasure," replied the wrestler,
who little expected what the other was aiming at; and so he went in,
and they began to drink and feast.
"It's very cold to-night," said Jiuyémon, after a while; "suppose we
warm up a little macaroni, and eat it nice and hot. Perhaps, however,
you do not like it?"
"Indeed, I am very fond of it, on the contrary."
"That is well. O Hiyaku, please go and buy a little for us."
"Directly," replied his wife, who hurried off to buy the paste,
delighted at the opportunity for carrying out her murderous design
upon her husband. As soon she had prepared it, she poured it into
bowls and set it before the two men; but into her husband's bowl only
she put poison. Jiuyémon, who well knew what she had done, did not eat
the mess at once, but remained talking about this, that, and the
other; and the wrestler, out of politeness, was obliged to wait also.
All of a sudden, Jiuyémon cried out--
"Dear me! whilst we have been gossiping, the macaroni has been getting
cold. Let us put it all together and warm it up again. As no one has
put his lips to his bowl yet, it will all be clean; so none need be
wasted." And with these words he took the macaroni that was in the
three bowls, and, pouring it altogether into an iron pot, boiled it up
again. This time Jiuyémon served out the food himself, and, setting it
before his wife and the wrestler, said--
"There! make haste and eat it up before it gets cold."
Jiuyémon, of course, did not eat any of the mess; and the would-be
murderers, knowing that sufficient poison had been originally put into
Jiuyémon's bowl to kill them all three, and that now the macaroni,
having been well mixed up, would all be poisoned, were quite taken
aback, and did not know what to do.
"Come! make haste, or it will be quite cold. You said you liked it, so
I sent to buy it on purpose. O Hiyaku! come and make a hearty meal. I
will eat some presently."
At this the pair looked very foolish, and knew not what to answer; at
last the wrestler got up and said--
"I do not feel quite well. I must beg to take my leave; and, if you
will allow me, I will come and accept your hospitality to-morrow
instead."
"Dear me! I am sorry to hear you are not well. However, O Hiyaku,
there will be all the more macaroni for you."
As for O Hiyaku, she put a bold face upon the matter, and replied that
she had supped already, and had no appetite for any more.