AN UNEXPECTED COMMAND
While Shibusawa had been constant and true in his attentions he had
never apprised Kinsan of his real position, nor of the difficulties
which stood in the way of their marriage. That he was worthy there could
be no doubt in her mind, and she only knew that she loved him--loved him
as they were and with no thought of what might or would befall them.
Instinct was enough to keep both from mentioning their affairs to any
others, for such a thing as mutual regard was by right or practice
unknown in the land; hence must have been deemed improper, especially by
the parents, and there were no others to whom they could or should
confide their secrets. Whether allowable or not, and without any real
knowledge of the consequences, their love had grown and manifested
itself in its own mysterious way, and they were destined as they were to
meet an uncertain fate.
Very wisely Shibusawa had not in the meantime neglected any of his
proper relations at home, but on the contrary entered into life with an
earnestness that was not only to his father, but to others of the family
and to his friends, a great source of joy. Whether at the Koyo-odori
(maple dance for girls), or at the New Year's feast, or at any of the
many fêtes of the season, his interest was equally keen and his presence
always sought. Nor did he neglect his personal improvement, for all of
his time and energy not devoted to Kinsan and his social duties were
expended in an orderly quest for knowledge; not of a theoretical nature,
but of that practical, satisfying kind that, whether for good or for
ill, moves the world.
Maido had observed with keen interest all these healthy activities of
his son and was proud of his achievements and offered him every
encouragement within his power. No particular attention had been paid to
Shibusawa's future other than properly to fit him for the place destined
for him, and such a thing as the young prince's marriage had never
seriously entered his father's mind. Since the birth of his rising
successor Maido had always hoped to avoid the necessity of sometime
being compelled to sacrifice his son's or his own happiness to gratify
the pleasure or convenience of the court, though he might at any time
have been prompted to do as much by an extreme test of loyalty. As far
as the lord daimyo's own interests were concerned there had as yet
appeared no need for matrimonial alliances of any kind, and not until
political discontent began to arise in the south had he been called upon
to concern himself particularly about outside affairs. He had personally
held aloof from all entangling alliances, and aside from his duties at
court devoted himself to the upbuilding and preservation of his own
prefecture, which was now so strong and prosperous that it could
reasonably be expected to stand of its own accord.
There was the best of feeling and good content everywhere at home, and
when there Maido himself might at any time be seen among his workmen
encouraging thrift and economy, while all of the new ideas were
regularly taught by learned instructors. As a result his people had
become the most skilled and industrious in the land, excelling in the
production of rice, silk, lacquer rugs, matting, bronzes, pottery,
steel, and implements of husbandry and articles for ornamentation.
Therefore Maido was one of the most powerful as he was resourceful of
the shogun's daimyos and had wisely looked askance at the petty quarrels
and fierce rebellions that were constantly devastating other parts of
the country and robbing them of their treasure. Still he did not neglect
to cultivate a true martial spirit, nor to maintain an army in keeping
with the country's dignity; which, owing to the mountainous approaches
at the east and south, and to the broad open sea and rocky shores of the
west and north, was as against an invading foe easily defended. These
natural barriers having been seized upon early after the beginning of
the shogunate and from time to time fortified, Maido had but to keep
them in repair and refrain from interfering with outside affairs in
order to induce the powerful armies of the north and south, while
marching against each other, to pass him by unmolested. In consequence
his vassals--secure in their peace, in plenty, sure of kind and liberal
treatment, their religion inviolate and their customs well
established--were quite content to labour faithfully for the promotion
of their daimyo's comfort and power. He was at the same time the most
respected and envied personage at court, and even the shogun himself
found it both agreeable and advantageous to cultivate his friendship.
This pleasing situation, however, was not long to continue, for the
outgrowth of Maido's wisdom, and his abundance at home, made him the
more coveted at Tokyo; and now that hostilities were assuming proportion
in the south, the necessity for new expedients was fast crowding upon
the northern party. To Iyeyoshi, the over-fed, easy-going shogun, these
matters were rather irksome and in consequence were being more and more
turned over to the newly appointed prime minister, the young and
restless Ikamon. The shogun was satisfied; Ikamon, ambitious.
The latter had risen from the lower ranks by dint of his own exertions,
and his career was as unbounded as it was unbridled. In presence he was
pinched and bony, stoop shouldered, of peaked face, had eagle eyes,
rather sparse, stiff black hair, and for strength of mind displayed a
wonderful mixture of cunning and craft. He had already formed a personal
alliance with Maido (which materially strengthened him at court and
directly helped him into his present position) by taking in marriage
Yasuko, the daimyo's second daughter; and now ostensibly as a state
measure, but in reality to further Ikamon's personal schemes, Shibusawa
was urgently brought forward as a likely match for Takara, a rising
member of the royalty, and a daughter of the mikado himself.
When the proposal was first made, Maido paid but little heed to it,
passing it by as one of his son-in-law's many visionary schemes; in the
majority of which he had not much confidence and as yet less concern. He
had intended to govern himself in this matter, when the proper time
came, as he had in all others, as best conserved his own interests and
the happiness of his son. That any one dared to interfere with what he
considered his and his family's private affair had not seriously dawned
upon his mind, and was this time looked upon as a piece of ill-advised
impertinence.
In time, however, the over-confident daimyo discovered his mistake, for
Ikamon persisted and before long had enlisted the support of a higher
influence, one that presently assumed the shape of an urgent request, if
not command. Such an alliance, once proposed, was not in times of stress
to be overlooked even by the shogun, and Maido soon found himself
entangled with a problem that was to bring his son face to face with the
queenly and much coveted Takara.
Though only the daughter by a favourite concubine, this beautiful
princess was much loved by Komei, the mikado, and it was conceded that
whoever gained her hand would not only gain his royal highness' favour,
but strengthen his position at the Kyoto court. She was tall and
slender, not yet twenty years of age, had bright, tender eyes, a soft,
clear skin, and silken hair as dark as the raven. Her manner was that of
grace and distinction, her speech calm and deliberate, while at court
and among her friends she was regarded with almost reverence.
Daikomitsu, a rising young prince and staunch supporter of the southern
party, had already sought her hand in marriage, and withal, aside from
any political considerations, she might have been thought eminently
fitted to become the wife even of a Maido's successor.
It was with different considerations, though, that Ikamon urged the
suit. He knew of no demand except that of policy, and now that he was in
a position effectively to reach both sides he hastened the business as
much as he consistently could. The mikado was, notwithstanding the
advice of his counsellors, still in favour of peace, and thus he lent a
ready ear to any proposal that might be reasonably expected to calm the
disturbance and ward off a final conflict. His daughter, having grown to
womanhood within the palace and its traditional and superstitious
atmosphere, knew nothing of the profane world and was possessed of a
loyalty that carried her far over into the sweep of ancestral worship.
She believed that her only province was to serve, and that of right she
should be handed from father to husband, from the one family to the
other. Her birth seemed but a necessity, her life a sacrifice, and her
death only a natural consequence--why should she look or think or hope
beyond? She offered no protest when told of her lot--that she must yield
her all unto a stranger--but bowed in grateful submission at the command
of an unquestioned fate. She promised her father, and he was pleased,
and hastened to inform the shogun.
Maido as yet had said nothing to Shibusawa about his prospective
marriage, though he himself had been fully convinced that there was no
possible way for him to avoid its final consummation without as a last
resort breaking faith with the shogun: a thing entirely beyond the pale
of his moral rectitude. He had from time to time avoided the subject,
trusting that some failure at Kyoto might save him the necessity, but
now that the mikado had favourably responded and the shogun positively
commanded, all hope was dissipated.
He therefore called his son to him and led him into the great chamber,
where he bade him be seated at his side. It was in the evening, and
Maido had just returned flushed and heated from an animated council, and
he chose the open side of the room, where they sat facing each other and
alone. A warm breeze floated in from the garden, and the air seemed to
Shibusawa almost as sweet with cherry blossom as it had the day before
while sitting with Kinsan at the hidden cave. He realised that some
grave question disturbed his parent, but little thought that he himself
was the victim of a prearranged plan that should augur so uncertain a
future. He would have spoken, but his father beckoned him be silent;
then himself spoke distinctly, telling him of what he was expected to
do, and waited for an answer.
There was no mistaking the meaning, yet Shibusawa sat in silence; he was
for the moment dazed and unable to make any answer. After the first
flush he resolved upon throwing himself at his father's feet and
explaining all; to ask forgiveness for what he had done, and beg
indulgence for what his life seemed pledged to do, but prudence bade him
not. He knew only too well that such a thing was impossible. Maido's
anxiety doubled with each succeeding moment, until finally surprise,
then fear, moved him and his voice trembled as he said:
"Shibusawa, my son, have you no ears?"
"I hear you, father, and I assure you it is my weakness and not the
answer that makes me slow. I would frame you a better speech than the
one I have in mind."
"Hold, my boy! I know your answer. And, besides, I would rather you save
your words for a higher purpose. This old self of mine is satisfied that
you do the thing. That is it. Oshaka! Oshaka! good god of self, forbid
that I hear, let me only feel a father's blessing and a son's
forgiveness. Come, my good son, your liberal indulgence of me and your
ready acceptance of her has removed from me the greatest concern of my
life. A long one, and a happy one--hah! h-a-h! h--a--h!"
Maido's eyes flashed dry and hot as he sat there swinging his powerful
frame back and forth to the rhythm of his parched words. Shibusawa knelt
quickly at his father's side and steadied and soothed him. The long
white locks parted and fell from his splendid brow, and in an instant
the son's whole soul went out to the one who had given him being and had
showered upon him a constant devotion.
The lord daimyo went to sleep presently, and Shibusawa sat for a long
time, debating the consequences of this new and unexpected situation. It
was only yesterday that he had pledged himself to the one he loved, and
now he was bound by every tradition and law to break that engagement and
perform a duty. Had this sudden mandate come only a day sooner his
honour, at least, might have been saved; but to sacrifice that was more
than he could do. Filial affection--but was there not a higher purpose,
and if so why not devote his life to its fulfilment? He pondered, then
said to himself:
"Although I uphold the traditions of our religion, maintain the honour
of my family, and obey the command of the shogun, I can and will be true
to Kinsan."