peculiar conditions of Japanese history. Gradually the mikado became
surrounded by a hedge of etiquette which removed him from the view of
the outer world. He never appeared in public, and none of his subjects,
except his wives and his highest ministers, ever saw his face. He sat on
a throne of mats behind a curtain, even his feet not being allowed to
touch the earth. If he left the palace to go abroad in the city, the
journey was made in a closely curtained car drawn by bullocks. To the
people, the mikado became like a deity, his name sacred and inviolable,
his power in the hands of the boldest of his subjects.
Buddhism had now become the official religion of the empire, priests
multiplied, monasteries were founded, and the court became the chief
support of the new faith, the courtiers zealously studying the sacred
books of India, while the mikado and his empress sought by every means
to spread the new belief among their people.
An emperor thus occupied could not pay much attention to the duties of
government, and the power of the civil ministers and military chiefs
grew accordingly. The case was like that of the Merovingian monarchs of
France and the Mayors of the Palace, who in time succeeded to the
throne. The mikados began to abdicate after short reigns, to shave off
their hair to show that they renounced the world and its vanities, to
become monks and spend the remainder of their days in the cloister.
These short reigns helped the shoguns and ministers in their ambitious
purposes, until in time the reins of power fell into the hands of a few
great families, who fought furiously with one another for the control.
It is with the feuds of these families that we have now to do. The
mikados had sunk out of sight, being regarded by the public with awe as
spiritual emperors, while their ministers rose into power and became the
leaders of life and the lords of events in Japan.
First among these noble families to gain control was that of the
Fujiwara (Wistaria meadow). They were of royal origin, and rose to
leading power in the year 645, when Kamatari, the founder of the family,
became regent of the empire. All the great offices of the empire in time
fell into the hands of the Fujiwaras: they married their daughters to
the mikados, surrounded them with their adherents, and governed the
empire in their name. In the end they decided who should be mikado,
ruled the country like monarchs, and became in effect the proprietors of
the throne. In their strong hands the mikado sank into a puppet, to move
as they pulled the strings.
But the Fujiwaras were not left to lord it alone. Other great families
sought a share of the power, and their rivalry often ended in war and
bloodshed. The most ancient of these rivals was the family of the
Sugawara. Greatest in this family was the renowned Sugawara Michizane, a
polished courtier and famous scholar, whose talents raised him to the
highest position in the realm. Japan had no man of greater learning; his
historical works became famous, and some of them are still extant. But
his genius did not save him from misfortune. His rivals, the Fujiwara,
in the end succeeded in having him banished to Kiushiu, where, exposed
to dire poverty, he starved to death. This martyr to official rivalry is
now worshipped in Japan as a deity, the patron god of literature and
letters. Temples have been erected to him, and students worship at his
shrine.
At a later date two other powerful families became rivals for the
control of the empire and added to the anarchy of the realm. The first
of these was the Taira family, founded 889 A.D., whose members attained
prominence as great military chiefs. The second was the Minamoto family,
founded somewhat later, which rose to be a powerful rival of the Taira,
their rivalry often taking the form of war. For centuries the
governmental and military history of Japan was made up of a record of
the jealousies and dissensions of these rival families, in whose hands
lay war and peace, power and place, and with whose quarrels and
struggles for power our next tales will be concerned.
_HOW THE TAIRA AND THE MINAMOTO FOUGHT FOR POWER._
In the struggle of the great families of Japan for precedence, the lords
of the Fujiwara held the civil power of the realm, while the shoguns, or
generals, were chosen from the Taira and Minamoto clans. Bred to arms,
leading the armies of the empire in many a hard-fought war, making the
camp their home, and loving best the trumpet-blast of battle, they
became hardy and daring warriors, the military caste of Japan. While war
continued, the shoguns were content to let the Fujiwara lord it at
court, themselves preferring the active labors of the field. Only when
peace prevailed, and there were no enemies to conquer nor rebels to
subdue, did these warriors begin to long for the spoils of place and to
envy the Fujiwara their power.
Chief among those thus moved by ambition was Kiyomori, the greatest of
the Taira leaders. As a boy he possessed a strong frame and showed a
proud spirit, wearing unusually high clogs, which in Japan indicates a
disposition to put on lordly airs. His position as the son of a soldier
soon gave him an opportunity to show his mettle. The seas then swarmed
with pirates, who had become the scourge alike of Corea and of Japan and
were making havoc among the mercantile fleets. The ambitious boy, full
of warlike spirit, demanded, when but eighteen years of age, to be sent
against these ocean pests, and cruised against them in the Suwo Nada, a
part of the Inland Sea. Here he met and fought a shipload of the most
desperate of the buccaneers, capturing their vessel, and then attacking
them in their place of refuge, which he destroyed.
For years afterwards Kiyomori showed the greatest valor by land and sea,
and in 1153, being then thirty-six years of age, he succeeded his father
as minister of justice for Japan. Up to this time the families of the
Taira and the Minamoto had been friendly rivals in the field. Now their
friendship came to an end and was succeeded by bitter enmity. In 1156
there were rival claimants for the throne, one supported by each of
these great families. The Taira party succeeded, got possession of the
palace, and controlled the emperor whom they had raised to the throne.
Kiyomori soon attained the highest power in the realm, and in him the
military caste first rose to pre-eminence. The Fujiwara were deposed,
all the high offices at court were filled by his relatives, and he made
himself the military chief of the empire and the holder of the civil
authority, the mikado being but a creature of his will.
History at this point gives us a glimpse of a curious state of affairs.
Go-Shirawaka, the emperor whom Kiyomori had raised to the throne in
1156, abdicated in 1159, shaved off his hair, and became a Buddhist
monk, professing to retire from the world within the holy cloisters of a
monastery. But nothing was farther from his thoughts. He was a man of
immoral desires, and found his post on the throne a check to the
debaucheries in which he wished to indulge. As a monk he exercised more
power than he had done as a mikado, retaining the control of affairs
during the reigns of his son and his two grandsons. The ranks and titles
of the empire were granted by him with a lavish hand, and their
disposition was controlled by Kiyomori, his powerful confederate, who,
in addition to raising his relatives to power, held himself several of
the highest offices in the realm.
The power of the Taira family increased until sixty men of the clan held
important posts at court, while their lands spread over thirty
provinces. They had splendid palaces in Kioto, the capital, and in
Fukuwara, overlooking the Inland Sea. The two sons of Kiyomori were made
generals of high rank, and his daughter became wife of the emperor
Takakura, a boy eleven years of age. The Taira chief was now at the
summit of power, and his foes in the depths of distress. The Fujiwara,
who had no military power, were unable to contend with him, and his most
dangerous rivals, the Minamoto, were slain or driven into exile.
Yoshitomo, the head of the house, was assassinated by a traitor bribed
by Kiyomori, his oldest son was beheaded, and the others--whom he
thought to be the last of the Minamoto--were either banished or immured
in monasteries. All the reins of power seemed to be in the regent's
grasp.
The story is here diversified by a legend well worth repeating. One of
the Minamoto, Tametomo by name, was an archer of marvellous powers. His
strength was equal to that of fifty ordinary men, and such was the power
of his right arm, which was shorter than his left, that he could draw a
bow which four common archers could not bend, and let fly a shaft five
feet long, with an enormous bolt as its head. This Japanese Hercules was
banished from the court at the instigation of the Taira, the muscles of
his arm were cut, and he was sent in a cage to Idzu.
Escaping from his guards, he fled to one of the smaller islands, and
remained in concealment until his arm had healed. Here the great archer
became governor of the people, and forbade them to pay tribute to the
throne. A fleet of boats was despatched against him, but, standing on
the strand, he sent an arrow hurtling through the timbers of the nearest
vessel and sunk it beneath the waves. Then, shouting defiance to his
foes, he shut himself up in his house, set fire to it, and perished in
the flames. But another legend relates that he fled to the Loochoo
Islands, where he became ruler and founder of their dynasty of kings. On
the Japanese greenback notes is a picture of this mighty archer, who is
shown grasping his bow after sinking the ship.
It was the purpose of Kiyomori to exterminate the family of his foes. In
two instances he was induced to let sons of that family live, a leniency
for which the Taira were to pay bitterly in the end. The story of both
these boys is full of romance. We give one of them here, reserving the
other for a succeeding tale. Yoritomo, the third son of Yoshitomo, was
twelve years of age at the date of his father's defeat and death. During
the retreat the boy was separated from his companions, and fell into the
hands of an officer of the opposite party, who took him as prisoner to
Kioto, the capital. Here the regent sentenced him to death, and the day
for his execution was fixed. Only the tender heart of a woman saved the
life of one who was destined to become the avenger of his father and
friends.
"Would you like to live?" the boy's captor asked him.
"Yes," he replied; "my father and mother are both dead, and who but I
can pray for their happiness in the world to come?"
The feelings of the officer were touched by this reply, and, hoping to
save the boy, he told the story to the step-mother of Kiyomori, who was
a Buddhist nun. The filial piety of the child affected her, and she was
deeply moved when the officer said, "Yoritomo is much like Prince Uma."
Uma had been her favorite son, one loved and lost, and, her mother's
heart stirred to its depths, she sought Kiyomori and begged him to spare
the boy's life. He was obdurate at first, worldly wisdom bidding him to
remove the last scion of his foes, but in the end he yielded to his
mother's prayer and consented to spare the child, condemning him,
however, to distant exile. This softness of heart he was bitterly to
regret.
Yoritomo was banished to the province of Idzu, where he was kept under
close guard by two officers of the Taira. He was advised by a friend to
shave off his hair and become a monk, but a faithful servant who
attended him counselled him to keep his hair and await with a brave
heart what the future might bring forth. The boy was shrewd and
possessed of high self-control. None of the remaining followers of his
father dared communicate with him, and enemies surrounded him, yet he
restrained all display of feeling, was patient under provocation,
capable of great endurance, and so winning in manner that he gained the
esteem even of the enemies of his family.
The story of Yoritomo's courtship and marriage is one of much interest.
Hojo Tokimasa, a noble with royal blood in his veins, had two daughters,
the elder being of noted beauty, the younger lacking in personal charms.
The exiled youth, who wished to ally himself to this powerful house and
was anxious to win the mother's favor in his suit, was prudent enough to
choose the homely girl. He sent her a letter, asking her hand in
marriage, by his servant, but the latter, who had ideas of his own and
preferred the beauty for his master's wife, destroyed the letter and
wrote another to Masago, the elder daughter.
That night the homely sister had a dream. A pigeon seemed to fly to her
with a box of gold in its beak. She told her vision to her sister, whom
it deeply interested, as seeming to be a token of some good fortune
coming.
"I will buy your dream," she said. "Sell it to me, and I will give you
my toilet mirror in exchange. The price I pay is little," she repeated,
using a common Japanese phrase.
The homely sister willingly made the exchange, doubtless preferring a
mirror to a dream. But she had hardly done so when the messenger arrived
with the letter he had prepared. Masago gladly accepted, already being
well inclined towards the handsome youth, but her father had meanwhile
promised her hand to another suitor, and refused to break his word. The
marriage was solemnized. But an understanding had been reached between
the lovers, and early on the wedding-night Masago eloped with the
waiting youth. In vain the husband sought for the fleeing pair. The
father, seemingly angry, aided him in his search, though really glad at
the lovers' flight. He much preferred Yoritomo, though he had been bound
by his word, and in later years he became one of his ablest partisans.
Masago rose to fame in Japanese history, aided in the subsequent triumph
of her spouse, and did much to add to the splendor and dignity of his
court.
During this period Kiyomori was making enemies, and in time became so
insolent and overbearing that a conspiracy was formed for his overthrow.
At the head of this was one of the royal princes, who engaged Yoritomo
in the plot. The young exile sent out agents right and left to rouse the
discontented. Many were won over, but one of them laughed the scheme to
scorn, saying, "For an exile to plot against the Taira is like a mouse
plotting against a cat."
But a conspiracy cannot be killed by a laugh. Yoritomo was soon in the
field at the head of a body of followers. A fierce fight took place in
the mountains, in which the young rebel fought bravely, but was
defeated and forced to flee for his life. Pursuit was sharp, and he
escaped only by hiding in a hollow log. He afterwards reached a temple
and concealed himself in the priests' wardrobe. At length he succeeded
in crossing the Bay of Yedo to Awa, on its northern side. Here he found
friends, sent out agents, and was not long in gathering a new army from
the old friends of the Minamoto and those who hated the tyrant. In a few
months he was at the head of a large and well-drilled force, with many
noted generals in command. The country was fertile and food abundant,
and day by day the army became larger.
But the Taira were not idle. Kiyomori quickly gathered a large army,
which he sent to put down the rebellion, and the hostile forces came
face to face on opposite sides of the Fuji River, the swiftest stream in
Japan. Between them rolled the impetuous flood, which neither party
dared to cross in the face of the foe, the most they could do being to
glare at one another across the stream.
The story goes that one of the Taira men, knowing that the turn of the
tide would favor their enemies, went to the river flats at night and
stirred up the flocks of wild fowl that rested there. What he hoped to
gain by this is not very clear, but it told against his own side, for
the noise of the flocks was thought by the Taira force to be due to a
night attack from their foes, and they fled in a sudden panic.
After this bloodless victory Yoritomo returned to his chosen place of
residence, named Kamakura, where he began to build a city that should
rival the capital in size and importance. A host of builders and
laborers was set at work, the dense thickets were cleared away, and a
new town rapidly sprang up, with streets lined with dwellings and shops,
store-houses of food, imposing temples, and lordly mansions. The anvils
rang merrily as the armorers forged weapons for the troops, merchants
sought the new city with their goods, heavily laden boats flocked into
its harbor, and almost as if by magic a great city, the destined capital
of the shoguns, rose from the fields.
The site of Kamakura had been well chosen. It lay in a valley facing the
open sea, while in the rear rose a semicircle of precipitous hills.
Through these roadways were cut, which might easily be defended against
enemies, while offering free access to friends. The power of the
Minamoto had suddenly grown again, and the Taira saw fronting them an
active and vigorous foe where a year before all had seemed tranquil and
the land their own.
To the proud Kiyomori this was a bitter draught. He fell sick unto
death, and the high officials of the empire gathered round his bed, in
mortal fear lest he to whom they owed their power should be swept away.
With his last breath the vindictive old chief uttered invectives against
his foes.
"My only regret is that I am dying," he said, "and have not yet seen the
head of Yoritomo of the Minamoto. After my decease do not make offerings
to Buddha on my account; do not read the sacred books. Only cut off the
head of Yoritomo of the Minamoto and hang it on my tomb. This is my
sole command: see that it be faithfully performed."
This order was not destined to be carried out. Yoritomo was to die
peacefully, eleven years afterwards, in 1199, with his head safe on his
shoulders. Yet his bedchamber was nightly guarded, lest traitors should
take his life, while war broke out from end to end of the empire.
Kiyomori's last words seemed to have lighted up its flames. Step by step
the forces of Yoritomo advanced. Victory followed their banners, and the
foe went down in death. At length Kioto, the capital of the mikado, was
reached, and fell into their hands. The Taira fled with the young mikado
and his wife, but his brother was proclaimed mikado in his stead, and
all the treasures of the Taira fell into the victors' hands.
Though the power of Yoritomo now seemed assured, he had a rebellion in
his own ranks to meet. His cousin Yoshinaka, the leader of the
conquering army, was so swollen with pride at his success that he forced
the court to grant him the highest military title, imprisoned the old
ex-mikado Go-Shirakawa, who had long been the power behind the throne,
beheaded the Buddhist abbots who had opposed him, and acted with such
rebellious insolence that Yoritomo had to send an army against him. A
battle took place, in which he was defeated and killed.
Yoritomo was now supreme lord of Japan, the mikado, for whom he acted,
being a mere tool in his hands. Yet one great conflict had still to be
fought by the shogun's younger brother, whose romantic story we have
next to tell.
_THE BAYARD OF JAPAN._
Yoritomo was not the only son of the Minamoto chief whom the tyrant let
live. There was another, a mere babe at the time, who became a hero of
chivalry, and whose life has ever since been the beacon of honor and
knightly virtue to the youth of Japan.
When Yoshitomo fled from his foes after his defeat in 1159, there went
with him a beautiful young peasant girl, named Tokiwa, whom he had
deeply loved, and who had borne him three children, all boys. The chief
was murdered by three assassins hired by his foe, and Tokiwa fled with
her children, fearing lest they also should be slain.
It was winter. Snow deeply covered the ground. Whither she should go or
how she should live the poor mother knew not, but she kept on, clasping
her babe to her breast, while her two little sons trudged by her side,
the younger holding her hand, the older carrying his father's sword,
which she had taken as the last relic of her love. In the end the
fleeing woman, half frozen and in peril of starvation, was met by a
soldier of the army of her foes. Her pitiable condition and the
helplessness of her children moved him to compassion, and he gave her
shelter and food.
Her flight troubled Kiyomori, who had hoped to destroy the whole family
of his foes, and had given strict orders for her capture or death. Not
being able to discover her place of retreat, he conceived a plan which
he felt sure would bring her within his power. In Japan and China alike
affection for parents is held to be the highest duty of a child, the
basal element of the ancient religion of both these lands. He therefore
seized Tokiwa's mother, feeling sure that filial duty would bring her to
Kioto to save her mother's life.
Tokiwa heard that her mother was held as a hostage for her and
threatened with death unless she, with her children, should come to her
relief. The poor woman was in an agony of doubt. Did she owe the
greatest duty to her mother, or to her children? Could she deliver up
her babes to death? Yet could she abandon her mother, whom she had been
taught as her first and highest duty to guard and revere? In this
dilemma she conceived a plan. Her beauty was all she possessed; but by
its aid she might soften the hard heart of Kiyomori and save both her
mother and her children.
[Illustration: Reproduced by permission of The Philadelphia Museums.
FARMERS PLANTING RICE SPROUTS. JAPAN.]
Success followed her devoted effort. Reaching the capital, Tokiwa
obtained an audience with the tyrant, who was so struck with her great
beauty that he wished to make her his mistress. At first she refused,
but her mother begged her with tears to consent, and she finally yielded
on Kiyomori's promise that her children should be spared. This mercy did
not please the friends of the tyrant, who insisted that the boys should
be put to death, fearing to let any one live who bore the hated name of
Minamoto. But the beauty of the mother and her tearful pleadings won
the tyrant's consent, and her sacrifice for her children was not in
vain.
The youngest of the three, the babe whom Tokiwa had borne in her arms in
her flight, grew up to be a healthy, ruddy-cheeked boy, small of
stature, but fiery and impetuous in spirit. Kiyomori had no intention,
however, that these boys should be left at liberty to cause him trouble
in the future. When of proper age he sent them to a monastery, ordering
that they should be brought up as priests.
The elder boys consented to this, suffering their black hair to be
shaved off and the robes of Buddhist neophytes to be put on them. But
Yoshitsune, the youngest, had no fancy for the life of a monk, and
refused to let the razor come near his hair. Though dwelling in the
monastery, he was so merry and self-willed that his pranks caused much
scandal, and the pious bonzes knew not what to do with this young ox, as
they called the irrepressible boy.
As Yoshitsune grew older, his distaste at the dulness of his life in the
cloister increased. The wars in the north, word of which penetrated even
those holy walls, inspired his ambition, and he determined in some way
to escape. The opportunity to do so soon arose. Traders from the outer
world made their way within the monastery gates for purposes of
business, and among these was an iron-merchant, who was used to making
frequent journeys to the north of the island of Hondo to obtain the fine
iron of the celebrated mines of that region. The youth begged this
iron-merchant to take him on one of his journeys, a request which he at
first refused, through fear of offending the priests. But Yoshitsune
insisted, saying that they would be glad enough to be rid of him, and
the trader at length consented. Yoshitsune was right: the priests were
very well satisfied to learn that he had taken himself off.
On the journey the youthful noble gave proofs of remarkable valor and
strength. He seized and held prisoner a bold robber, and on another
occasion helped to defend the house of a man of wealth from an attack by
robbers, five of whom he killed. These and other exploits alarmed a
friend who was with him, and who bade him to be careful lest the Taira
should hear of his doings, learn who he was, and kill him.