DANGER IN SHIBUSAWA'S ABSENCE
So far as Tetsutaisho was concerned he had called at the daimyo's castle
only by accident, though there was much anxiety and probably no one's
fortune more at stake. Iyeyoshi had grown old and inert amidst strained
conditions, and appreciated more fully than could Iyesada, his youthful
successor, the necessity of advancing the bold, heedless young general.
Nor was Tetsutaisho free from the danger of rival aspirants; yet there
was no war at hand, and he knew of no better business than pleasing
Ikamon and paying respect to the ladies at court.
Here he need not concern himself with rivalry, for the one guided with a
jealous eye his rising place and the other enjoyed without interruption
his pleasing address. He came and went at will, and had he not sooner
possessed an unknown love he might have quicker formed an attachment.
Takara responded naturally to the voice of inevitable will, but a
yearning heart unconsciously bade him seek Kinsan.
Without neglecting the former, he pressed his suit for the latter, and
now more than ever became a faithful caller at the modest cottage in the
garden; and as he persisted Kinsan determined and withdrew patiently
into the solitude of her unknown retreat, and there conjured feelings of
love that ripened with each thought and strengthened in the face of
every danger. Filial affection bound her and crowned her, yet she was
possessed of a new force, moved by a deeper impulse. She battled with
the inevitable and yielded her life to what seemed to be the impossible;
no quarter was given, and fate tracked her even to her last place of
hope.
It was on a warm afternoon in early spring, when the clouds overhung
with threatening storm, that Tetsutaisho, hurrying toward his home,
wended his way along the selfsame pathway, which led past Kinsan's
lonely spot on the hillside. As he came into sight a gust of wind swept
down the gully and whipped his kimono close round his limbs. He paused
and looked overhead, but none too soon, for large drops, falling
straight and swift, warned him of the rapidly approaching downpour.
"If I mistake not," said he, to himself, "I shall get a good drenching
this time. I wonder what shelter is that in the distance? If I could get
there without too much hobbling--it is my only chance. I shall venture."
If he had but looked closer he might also have seen Kinsan, who had gone
there earlier in the day to escape his presence at her house. However,
she saw him, and when he left the path she had so often watched him
tread her heart stood still and she trembled with fright. He was surely
coming, and there was no possible means of escape. She appealed not to
the gods, but grasped at intuition; her secret hiding-place offered an
alternate, and quickly entering she covered her safety as best she
could.
Tetsutaisho found his way there; and in time, for it had not yet begun
to rain, though great clouds were massing and the sky was growing dark
and hollow. He entered the scant shelter with no concern about its past
or thought of its significance. It was a covering, and though dreary he
faced about and looked out at the grand panorama of mingled peace and
storm its outlook brought into view. He stood with folded arms, likening
the elements to a marshalling of the samurai, in which he should
sometime startle the land and bring glory to himself. And then he
thought of Kinsan and of how she, too, were she there would under such a
spell acknowledge his unalterable right. He straightened back and
marvelled at his greatness, while the lowering clouds rumbled afar.
Then suddenly a submerged sneeze at his back frightened him, and he
wheeled about and peered into the gloom at the dumb, bleak walls. He
could see no one, and suddenly it grew dark, and clashing thunder broke
overhead. Again he was startled by the same mysterious sound, and he
fell down and cried:
"It is the ghost of Taira!"
Scarcely had he uttered the words when the rain began to pour, and the
ghoulish sound once more started him to his feet, and he ran out into
the driving storm and dashed down the hillside, toward his home, far
beyond the second moat. Here, soaked and exhausted, he hid himself in
his room and pondered deeply the voice at the cave. The rain pounded
overhead, and in each corner there seemed lurking a spirit--he heard
many sounds.
It was a warning, and the next day Tetsutaisho was at the council
chamber, early and faithful. He heard Ikamon argue against change, and
in favour of continuance; comprehended his meaning, that natural growth
is the law of the gods; and agreed with his charge, that nothing short
of revolution could overthrow a system that followed regular, active,
inherent growth.
"What," said the prime minister, with squeaking voice and expressionless
face, "would you have us do? Change our course now that the storm drives
at our front and the breakers rise behind us? Would you at mid-stream
change this good old ship, that has weathered the storm of ages, for one
that is new and untried? No; a thousand times no! and may such men as
Maido, Saigo, Katsu, Tetsutaisho, and--if I may be permitted--Ikamon,
live to helm her safely into port. Iyesada, brave captain that he is,
cannot afford to man his ship with other than the skilled and
experienced, and where else can he find them but at the post of duty?
This is the plan which I propose, and I call upon every loyal citizen,
every adherent of the august shogun, and every lover of the divine
mikado, to rally to my support."
They came; the victory was his; and the shogun more than ever in his
power. Katsu was soon thereafter placed at the head of the navy, and
Tetsutaisho advanced to the command of the army. It was the reward his
friends had given him for his loyalty, and he took the advancement as a
matter of course, not even deigning to return thanks or offer a promise.
So far as he was concerned his friends were his fortune, and even the
law of the land had no place as between him and them.
Under Ikamon's domination Tetsutaisho was relieved of the necessity for
any particular state activities, while his promotion had placed him
socially at the head of the samurai, as had his marriage to Nehachibana
raised him in esteem among the nobility and given him standing at court.
The state furnished him with luxuriant quarters, where he domiciled his
family, under the immediate sway of his fault-finding mother, with
Nehachibana as her patient, industrious slave. Time passed leisurely,
and as he had long ago forgotten his desperate resolve he was wont more
than ever to make regular calls at his father-in-law's house.
As these visits grew in frequency, the length of his stay became less
guarded; and Takara, at first looking upon his coming as a pleasing
incident, recurring now and then in her monotonous life, welcomed him,
then looked for him, and now, that his had come to be her only true
companionship, longed for his coming.
"You will come to-morrow, will you not, Tetsutaisho?" said she, with
pleading, wistful eyes, as he was about to leave her on a warm, inviting
night in June.
"Yes, Takara," answered he, softly and earnestly. "I will come over, and
together we will watch the second sailing of Perry's fleet, the
departure of the first man who ever dared profane our soil. I understand
the arrant braggart has finally wrung from the shogun certain privileges
that are not less dangerous than disgraceful. As he came, he will go
out: booming his noisy guns. It will be a showy thing, and possibly
worth our seeing. I shall certainly come, my lady, especially that it
pleases you to have me. And now, good-night, and pleasant dreams."
Upon the following day Tetsutaisho once more wandered over to the
council and for a time hopelessly endeavoured to share in the tumult
occasioned by the second appearance of the American fleet. He was deeply
impressed with the importance of the proceedings, but diplomacy was not
his business, nor was it in keeping with his ideas of national honour,
much less official dignity or personal heroism. To him Ikamon's subtle
harangue had been quite as much a bore as was the commodore's demand a
bold and hollow bluff. Had he had his way he would have invited the
meddlesome foreigner to come ashore and inspect the samurai before
undertaking to establish in their midst any sort of commercial theft.
But Tetsutaisho's voice as yet had no weight in the chamber, and he knew
it and was satisfied. Withdrawing presently, he returned homeward and
prepared himself for a more pleasing diversion.
Toward evening the weather grew warm and inviting, and Tetsutaisho
strolled over to Takara's house early, where they loitered on the
veranda and supped long at their tea. There was that stillness in the
air that begets confidence, and the moon rose clear and bright. He sat
smoking and dreaming, and she chatted away or toyed with the tiny cup in
front. He had finished his pipe, then he said:
"Shall we stroll over to the arbour vine, Takara? The woods are
inviting, and there we can get a glimpse of the 'Yankee' as he hurls our
foam at his back. Come, my lady, shall I assist you to rise?"
Takara drooped her eyes and blushed, and he did not resist the
temptation, but sat at her side and took her willing hand in his. She
leaned forward, and looking into his upturned face revealed the answer.
Nothing could stay or mar that pleasure. They sat there enrapt with the
joy of all time: only the stars gave witness, and when they had awakened
there was no need for a scene in the moonlight, for a crossing of the
ways, for a going into the halo of life; they had sooner found their
affinity, and all the glories of heaven and earth could not transport
them more, and when they went out into the dawn it was to revel in
thoughts sweeter than dreamland had ever revealed. A beautiful sunburst
beamed from her heart, and her eyes shone with a love that welcomes the
true; that fades and shuns at the false. The fleet had long passed out,
the moon had risen high, and God had again proven the wisdom of all
things when those two returned and parted for the night.
As Tetsutaisho hastened along the gravelled pathway toward his home his
step was less firm and his purpose more uncertain than when he came. His
course had led him over the firmer hold and into the boundless sea of
uncertainty. What was once a passion was now fast becoming a desire, and
he knew no such thought as halt. Whither he did not know, perhaps he did
not care, for to him the world was but a reality: its pleasures were its
eternity. And not until he approached his own house did he think of
Nehachibana, and of how she had made his home worth the while; of her
waiting and watching and praying for his return; of the boundless joy
that filled her heart at the first sound of his footsteps, and then he
said to himself:
"These wise old fathers of my country have fitted well the act and made
certain their provision for such as she and I. The law makes marriage
tolerable and it makes love enjoyable. A thousand dry draughts to you!
May the laws live long, and love die never! O Jurokin; O Benten; hear
me!"