Ten years had elapsed since Mutto and his son had first come to Kuwana,
and the great struggle so long impending was now fairly breaking out.
That the crisis had not occurred sooner was a matter of sufficient
wonder, and was owing altogether to the strong measures of repression,
to the undoubted ability for governing possessed in general by those who
were still the actual rulers of the land. But although the overthrow of
the Hōjō might be delayed, it could not be averted. The insolent pride of
these chieftains, not content with setting up and pulling down Shôguns
at will, and punishing with death all who incurred their displeasure,
had even heaped indignities upon the imperial family; and from this,
more than from all other causes combined, their hold upon the people was
weakened beyond hope of recovery.
In Japan the divinity which hedges the king owes nothing to the poet’s
flowery imagery, but has always been accepted as a living fact by high
and low, by rich and poor, by the strong and by the weak. The government
of the country had _de facto_ always been wielded by some chieftain
whose genius, naturally in those times mainly of a military character,
had enabled him to arrogate position and power. If at the same time he
possessed administrative and organizing qualities, then the prestige and
influence exerted by his name, added to the support of his clansmen,
would often secure this power for several generations to his descendants.
In this way the Sugiwara, Fujiwara, Taira, the Minamoto, and others whose
names and exploits are familiar to every child in Japan, had risen to
fame and to the control of the State.
All these chiefs, nevertheless, however absolute their power might have
been, were extremely careful, so far as outward show and ceremony went,
to profess the deepest reverence for, and implicit obedience to, the
ruling Emperor. The genius which could rise to pre-eminence in spite of
the valor and opposition of numerous rivals, would have been useless if
it could not obtain recognition of its arrogated offices from the Throne.
Military or civil ascendency could not make a man Kwambaku, Dajodaijin,
or Shôgun; it was only investiture by the ruling Mikado, the descendant
of the gods, which in the opinion of the public could confer these
titles. At this time the Shôgunate and the nominal control of national
affairs were in the hands of the Minamoto family. In times gone by, from
the tenth to the twelfth century, they and the Taira were the two leading
clans of the Empire. They were, however, both too great to exist by the
side of each other; and a fierce and desperate warfare was waged between
them, which lasted for many decades, and in which the Minamotos were at
last utterly vanquished and almost extirpated.
Among the very few survivors was a young boy named Yoritomo, who had
been carried to the rugged and barren mountain fastnesses of Idzu, where
he was brought up in the charge of a faithful old servant. This boy was
destined to take vengeance upon the despoilers of his race. Becoming
himself the most illustrious figure that Japanese history up to that time
had known, he raised the Minamoto name and power to a higher pinnacle
of fame and prestige than it had ever attained. Appointed Shôgun by the
Mikado in the year 1192, he firmly established the Shôgunate with its
seat at Kamakura, and made himself virtual dictator of the country.
He died in 1199, and the genius for war and statesmanship which had
distinguished him seemed to have died with him.
[Illustration: YORITOMO LIBERATING A THOUSAND CRANES IN HONOR OF HIS
VICTORIES.]
Although he bequeathed his power and the prestige of his name to
his descendants, thus securing for the latter the possession of
the Shôgunate, the office became a purely nominal affair. Like the
illustrious dead Yoritomo, who had wrested all real authority from the
imperial throne, leaving it only the bare show and pomp of power, so now
the Hōjō stepped in, and in their hands the Minamoto Shôguns were but
puppets moving at the will of their so-called guardians. Daily the Hōjō
adherents grew in strength and numbers, and every position of trust and
influence was soon occupied by them and their creatures. In the arrogance
of their pride, engendered by a long continuance of absolute power,
they at last did what even the great Yoritomo himself had never dared
to do,—they failed to pay even outward reverence to the Emperor, and
openly showed the mailed hand by which he was ruled. Mikado after Mikado
was forced to abdicate in favor of some other member of the imperial
family whom the Hōjō thought more devoted to their interests, and the
ex-Emperors who had provoked their resentment—banished, sent into exile,
or forced into cloisters—were treated with rigor, often with humiliating
severity.
Such a course could not last. Neither the prestige gained for the Hōjō by
their military talents,—which in the year 1279 had repelled the invasion
of the great Mongol Chieftain Kublai Khan, with its myriads of ships and
its numberless army,—nor the merits of their civil administration, which
preserved internal peace, promoted agriculture, industry, and trade,
and showed harshness only in what might be thought to trench upon their
assumed prerogatives, could reconcile the people to the disrespect shown
to their Emperors. The gods from whom the latter descended must sooner
or later take vengeance not only upon the desecrators, but also upon the
people who stood passively by and permitted this unholy work to proceed
without interfering.
[Illustration: MAN IN ARMOR.]
Although hardly probable, it is yet perhaps barely possible, that the
Hōjōs harbored the thought of being able some day to usurp the imperial
throne; and it may have been this hope which dictated their policy. They
could not but know that such a consummation might be looked for only
after long years of preparation, and they therefore tried to lessen
the imperial prestige by forcing successive Mikados to abdicate, and
making light of their sacred rights and prerogatives. But if some such
deep-laid scheme really animated their course, events proved that they
had miscalculated the force of the feeling which inspired the people, and
which made love and reverence for their Emperors the foundation of their
patriotism and religion. Repeated outbreaks against the Hōjō domination
had occurred within the last decade; but they had been quelled before
assuming any serious dimensions, and summary punishment dealt out to
those concerned in them. One of these, which had been instigated in
secret by the son of the reigning Emperor, had caused the father to lose
his throne and be banished to a distant island, while the son was forced
to shave his head and enter a convent, and eventually to leave even that
retreat and flee to the mountains to save his life.
Ono ga Sawa, although he hated the Hōjō at heart, was too prudent,
without seeing a reasonable chance of success, to commit himself to any
movement which might endanger his house and his life. The great want of
the disaffected was a leader,—one who by birth, position, and personal
qualities might command the confidence and esteem of all classes among
them. At last, however, news arrived at Kuwana in the fall of the year
that Nitta Yoshisada had raised the standard of revolt and called upon
the whole country to assist him. This new champion of the Mikado was
lord of the castle of Nitta; and he as well as his brother, the lord of
the castle of Ashikaga, who had joined him in the rising, were direct
descendants of a celebrated Minamoto chief, their fiefs, which lay
in contiguous provinces, within easy distance of the Hōjō stronghold
Kamakura, having been in uninterrupted possession of themselves and their
forefathers for nearly four hundred years.
Nitta had earned a high military reputation while serving as captain
in the Hōjō armies. He had been deputed with a large force to subdue
Kusunoki Masashige, who had thrice within three years raised the flag of
revolt, and although defeated each time, had still managed to escape to
unfurl anew the imperial standard and assemble soldiers in its defence.
Although Nitta had always been ready to support the Hōjō chiefs against
rivals, or even in schemes of personal aggrandizement, he yet had
no wish to fight against the supporters of the Mikado. He dared not
refuse the command offered to him, as he would thus lay himself open to
suspicion, and suspicion then meant death. His resolution in this dilemma
was soon made. Having started with his troops, he carefully sounded
the temper of the officers and men; and finding it what he expected,
exhibited a commission which he had procured from the exiled Emperor, at
the same time describing to them in an eloquent and affecting speech the
condition of their rightful rulers. They one and all agreed to fight for
the cause which they had been sent to overthrow.
All previous outbreaks had been confined to distant provinces, and the
lack of unity and concerted action, together with the want of military
ability among many of the would-be leaders, had resulted in their
easy suppression by the disciplined forces sent against them. Nitta
was resolved to carry the war into the enemy’s country, where he knew
the disaffected would muster in great numbers as soon as a favorable
opportunity should present itself; but for a time he pitched his camp at
his own castle. Before setting out, however, he sent proclamations to the
different provinces, stating his intention of restoring the wrongfully
exiled Mikado to the possession of the throne and to the enjoyment of
that supreme power which belonged to him, and calling upon all loyal
subjects to aid in carrying out this sacred mission. Nitta’s emissaries
were everywhere received with joy and acclamation, and with promises of
aid in men, money, and war material,—promises which, as the immediate
future showed, were religiously kept.