It will be long before those who were present at the newly opened port
of Kôbé on the 4th of February, 1868, will forget that day. The civil
war was raging, and the foreign Legations, warned by the flames of
burning villages, no less than by the flight of the Shogun and his
ministers, had left Osaka, to take shelter at Kôbé, where they were
not, as at the former place, separated from their ships by more than
twenty miles of road, occupied by armed troops in a high state of
excitement, with the alternative of crossing in tempestuous weather a
dangerous bar, which had already taken much valuable life. It was a
fine winter's day, and the place was full of bustle, and of the going
and coming of men busy with the care of housing themselves and their
goods and chattels. All of a sudden, a procession of armed men,
belonging to the Bizen clan, was seen to leave the town, and to
advance along the high road leading to Osaka; and without apparent
reason--it was said afterwards that two Frenchmen had crossed the line
of march--there was a halt, a stir, and a word of command given. Then
the little clouds of white smoke puffed up, and the sharp "ping" of
the rifle bullets came whizzing over the open space, destined for a
foreign settlement, as fast as the repeating breech-loaders could be
discharged. Happily, the practice was very bad; for had the men of
Bizen been good shots, almost all the principal foreign officials in
the country, besides many merchants and private gentlemen, must have
been killed: as it was, only two or three men were wounded. If they
were bad marksmen, however, they were mighty runners; for they soon
found that they had attacked a hornets' nest. In an incredibly short
space of time, the guards of the different Legations and the sailors
and marines from the ships of war were in hot chase after the enemy,
who were scampering away over the hills as fast as their legs could
carry them, leaving their baggage ingloriously scattered over the
road, as many a cheap lacquered hat and flimsy paper cartridge-box,
preserved by our Blue Jackets as trophies, will testify. So good was
the stampede, that the enemy's loss amounted only to one aged coolie,
who, being too decrepit to run, was taken prisoner, after having had
seventeen revolver shots fired at him without effect; and the only
injury that our men inflicted was upon a solitary old woman, who was
accidently shot through the leg.
If it had not been for the serious nature of the offence given, which
was an attack upon the flags of all the treaty Powers, and for the
terrible retribution which was of necessity exacted, the whole affair
would have been recollected chiefly for the ludicrous events which it
gave rise to. The mounted escort of the British Legation executed a
brilliant charge of cavalry down an empty road; a very pretty line of
skirmishers along the fields fired away a great deal of ammunition
with no result; earthworks were raised, and Kôbé was held in military
occupation for three days, during which there were alarms, cutting-out
expeditions with armed boats, steamers seized, and all kinds of
martial effervescence. In fact, it was like fox-hunting: it had "all
the excitement of war, with only ten per cent. of the danger."
The first thought of the kind-hearted doctor of the British Legation
was for the poor old woman who had been wounded, and was bemoaning
herself piteously. When she was carried in, a great difficulty arose,
which, I need hardly say, was overcome; for the poor old creature
belonged to the Etas, the Pariah race, whose presence pollutes the
house even of the poorest and humblest Japanese; and the native
servants strongly objected to her being treated as a human being,
saying that the Legation would be for ever defiled if she were
admitted within its sacred precincts. No account of Japanese society
would be complete without a notice of the Etas; and the following
story shows well, I think, the position which they hold.
Their occupation is to slay beasts, work leather, attend upon
criminals, and do other degrading work. Several accounts are given of
their origin; the most probable of which is, that when Buddhism, the
tenets of which forbid the taking of life, was introduced, those who
lived by the infliction of death became accursed in the land, their
trade being made hereditary, as was the office of executioner in some
European countries. Another story is, that they are the descendants of
the Tartar invaders left behind by Kublai Khan. Some further facts
connected with the Etas are given in a note at the end of the tale.
* * * * *
Once upon a time, some two hundred years ago, there lived at a place
called Honjô, in Yedo, a Hatamoto named Takoji Genzaburô; his age was
about twenty-four or twenty-five, and he was of extraordinary personal
beauty. His official duties made it incumbent on him to go to the
Castle by way of the Adzuma Bridge, and here it was that a strange
adventure befel him. There was a certain Eta, who used to earn his
living by going out every day to the Adzuma Bridge, and mending the
sandals of the passers-by. Whenever Genzaburô crossed the bridge, the
Eta used always to bow to him. This struck him as rather strange; but
one day when Genzaburô was out alone, without any retainers following
him, and was passing the Adzuma Bridge, the thong of his sandal
suddenly broke: this annoyed him very much; however, he recollected
the Eta cobbler who always used to bow to him so regularly, so he went
to the place where he usually sat, and ordered him to mend his sandal,
saying to him: "Tell me why it is that every time that I pass by
this bridge, you salute me so respectfully."
[Illustration: GENZABURÔ'S MEETING WITH THE ETA MAIDEN.]
When the Eta heard this, he was put out of countenance, and for a
while he remained silent; but at last taking courage, he said to
Genzaburô, "Sir, having been honoured with your commands, I am quite
put to shame. I was originally a gardener, and used to go to your
honour's house and lend a hand in trimming up the garden. In those
days your honour was very young, and I myself little better than a
child; and so I used to play with your honour, and received many
kindnesses at your hands. My name, sir, is Chokichi. Since those days
I have fallen by degrees info dissolute habits, and little by little
have sunk to be the vile thing that you now see me."
When Genzaburô heard this he was very much surprised, and,
recollecting his old friendship for his playmate, was filled with
pity, and said, "Surely, surely, you have fallen very low. Now all you
have to do is to presevere and use your utmost endeavours to find a
means of escape from the class into which you have fallen, and become
a wardsman again. Take this sum: small as it is, let it be a
foundation for more to you." And with these words he took ten riyos
out of his pouch and handed them to Chokichi, who at first refused to
accept the present, but, when it was pressed upon him, received it
with thanks. Genzaburô was leaving him to go home, when two wandering
singing-girls came up and spoke to Chokichi; so Genzaburô looked to
see what the two women were like. One was a woman of some twenty years
of age, and the other was a peerlessly beautiful girl of sixteen; she
was neither too fat nor too thin, neither too tall nor too short; her
face was oval, like a melon-seed, and her complexion fair and white;
her eyes were narrow and bright, her teeth small and even; her nose
was aquiline, and her mouth delicately formed, with lovely red lips;
her eyebrows were long and fine; she had a profusion of long black
hair; she spoke modestly, with a soft sweet voice; and when she
smiled, two lovely dimples appeared in her cheeks; in all her
movements she was gentle and refined. Genzaburô fell in love with her
at first sight; and she, seeing what a handsome man he was, equally
fell in love with him; so that the woman that was with her, perceiving
that they were struck with one another, led her away as fast as
possible.
Genzaburô remained as one stupefied, and, turning to Chokichi, said,
"Are you acquainted with those two women who came up just now?"
"Sir," replied Chokichi, "those are two women of our people. The elder
woman is called O Kuma, and the girl, who is only sixteen years old,
is named O Koyo. She is the daughter of one Kihachi, a chief of the
Etas. She is a very gentle girl, besides being so exceedingly pretty;
and all our people are loud in her praise."
When he heard this, Genzaburô remained lost in thought for a while,
and then said to Chokichi, "I want you to do something for me. Are
you prepared to serve me in whatever respect I may require you?"
Chokichi answered that he was prepared to do anything in his power to
oblige his honour. Upon this Genzaburô smiled and said, "Well, then, I
am willing to employ you in a certain matter; but as there are a great
number of passers-by here, I will go and wait for you in a tea-house
at Hanakawado; and when you have finished your business here, you can
join me, and I will speak to you." With these words Genzaburô left
him, and went off to the tea-house.
When Chokichi had finished his work, he changed his clothes, and,
hurrying to the tea-house, inquired for Genzaburô, who was waiting for
him upstairs. Chokichi went up to him, and began to thank him for the
money which he had bestowed upon him. Genzaburô smiled, and handed him
a wine-cup, inviting him to drink, and said--
"I will tell you the service upon which I wish to employ you. I have
set my heart upon that girl O Koyo, whom I met to-day upon the Adzuma
Bridge, and you must arrange a meeting between us."
When Chokichi heard these words, he was amazed and frightened, and for
a while he made no answer. At last he said---
"Sir, there is nothing that I would not do for you after the favours
that I have received from you. If this girl were the daughter of any
ordinary man, I would move heaven and earth to comply with your
wishes; but for your honour, a handsome and noble Hatamoto, to take
for his concubine the daughter of an Eta is a great mistake. By giving
a little money you can get the handsomest woman in the town. Pray,
sir, abandon the idea."