five governors, most of the generals of the Corean war, and the lords
and vassals of Hideyoshi. Strong as it was, one hundred and eighty
thousand in all, it was moved by contrary purposes, and unity of counsel
was lacking among the chiefs. The army of Iyeyasu, while far weaker, had
but one leader, and was inspired by a single purpose.
On the 1st of October, 1600, the march began, over the great highway
known as the Tokaido. The white banner of Iyeyasu was embroidered with
hollyhocks, his standard a golden fan. "The road to the west is shut,"
prophesied the diviners. "Then I shall knock till it opens," the bold
leader replied.
As they marched onward, a persimmon (_ogaki_ in Japanese) was offered
him. He opened his hand to receive it, saying, as it fell into his palm,
"Ogaki has fallen into my hand." (The significance of this remark lies
in the fact that the camp of the league lay around the castle of Ogaki).
Learning of the near approach of Iyeyasu's force, the opposing army
broke camp and marched to meet him through a sharp rain that wet them to
the skin. Their chosen field of battle, Sekigahara ("plain of the
barrier") by name, is in Omi, near Lake Biwa. It is an expanse of open,
rolling ground, bisected by one of the main roads between Tokio and
Kioto and crossed by a road from Echizen. On this spot was to be fought
one of the greatest battles Japan had ever known, whose result was
destined to settle the fate of the empire for two hundred and fifty
years.
In the early morning of the eventful day one of the pickets of Iyeyasu's
host brought word that the army of the league was in full march from the
castle of Ogaki. This important news was soon confirmed by others, and
the general joyfully cried, "The enemy has indeed fallen into my hand."
Throwing aside his helmet, he knotted a handkerchief over his forehead,
saying that this was all the protection he should need in the coming
battle.
His army was seventy-five thousand strong. That opposed to him exceeded
his in strength by more than fifty thousand men. But neither as yet knew
what they had to encounter, for a fog lay heavy on the plain, and the
two armies, drawn up in battle array, were invisible to each other. To
prevent surprise, Iyeyasu sent in front of his army a body of guards
bearing white flags, to give quick warning of an advance.
At length, at eight o'clock, the fog rose and drifted away, revealing
the embattled hosts. Hardly had it vanished before the drums beat their
battle peal and the martial conchs sounded defiance, while a shower of
arrows from each army hurtled through the opposing ranks. In a short
time the impatient warriors met in mid field, and sword and spear began
their deadly work.
The great weight of the army of the league at first gave it the
advantage, and for hours the result was in doubt, though a corps of the
league forces deserted to the ranks of Iyeyasu. At length unity and
discipline began to prevail, the intrepidity of Iyeyasu and his skill in
taking advantage of every error of his enemy giving confidence to his
men. By noon they were bearing back the foe. Ordering up the reserves,
and bidding the drummers and conch-blowers to sound their most
inspiriting appeal, Iyeyasu gave order for the whole army to charge.
Before the impetuous onset that followed, the enemy wavered, broke, and
fled, followed in hot pursuit by the victorious host. And now a
frightful scene began. Thousands of heads of the flying were cut off by
the keen-edged blades of their pursuers. Most of the wounded and many of
the unhurt killed themselves upon the field, in obedience to the
exaggerated Japanese sense of honor. The defeat became a butchery. In
Japanese battles of the past quarter was a mercy rarely craved or
granted, and decapitation the usual mode of death when the sword could
be brought into play, so that the triumph of the victors was usually
indicated by the dimensions of the ghastly heap of heads. In this
frightful conflict the claim was made by the victors (doubtless an
exaggeration) that they had taken forty thousand heads of the foe,
while their own loss was only four thousand. However that be, a great
mound of heads was made, one of many such evidences of slaughter which
may still be seen in Japan.
Throughout the battle a knotted handkerchief was the only defence of
Iyeyasu's head. The victory won, he called for his helmet, which he put
on, carefully tying the strings. As all looked on with surprise at this
strange action, he, with a smile, repeated to them an old Japanese
proverb, "After victory, knot the cords of your helmet."
It was a suggestion of vigilance wisely given and alertly acted upon.
The strongholds of the league were invested without delay, and one by
one fell into the victors' hands. The fragments of the beaten army were
followed and dispersed. Soon all opposition was at an end, and Iyeyasu
was lord and master of Japan.
The story of the victor in the most decisive victory Japan had ever
known, one that was followed by two and a half centuries of peace, needs
to complete it a recital of two important events, one being the founding
of Yedo, the great eastern capital, the other the organization of the
system of feudalism.
For ages the country around the Bay of Yedo, now the chief centre of
activity and civilization in Japan, was wild and thinly peopled. The
first mention of it in history is in the famous march of Yamato-Dake,
whose wife leaped here into the waves as a sacrifice to the maritime
gods. In the fifteenth century a small castle was built on the site of
the present city, while near it on the Tokaida, the great highway
between the two ancient capitals, stood a small village, whose chief use
was for the refreshment and assistance of travellers.
Ota Dagnan, the lord of the castle, was a warrior of fame, whose deeds
have gained him a place in the song and story of Japan. Of the tales
told of him there is one whose poetic significance has given it a fixed
place in the legendary lore of the land. One day, when the commandant
was amusing himself in the sport of hawking, a shower of rain fell
suddenly and heavily, forcing him to stop at a house near by and request
the loan of a grass rain-coat,--a _mino_, to give it its Japanese name.
A young and very pretty girl came to the door at his summons, listened
to his polite request, and stood for a moment blushing and confused.
Then, running into the garden, she plucked a flower, handed it with a
mischievous air to the warrior, and disappeared within the house. Ota,
angrily flinging down the flower, turned away, after an impulse to force
his way into the house and help himself to the coat. He returned to the
castle wet and fuming at the slight to his rank and dignity.
Soon after he related the incident to some court nobles from Kioto, who
had stopped at the castle, and who, to his surprise, did not share his
indignation at the act.
"Why, the incident was delightful," said one among them who was
specially versed in poetic lore; "who would have looked for such wit and
such knowledge of our classic poetry in a young girl in this
uncultivated spot? The trouble is, friend Ota, that you are not learned
enough to take the maiden's meaning."
"I take it that she meant to laugh at a soaked fowler," growled the
warrior.
"Not so. It was only a graceful way of telling you that she had no
_mino_ to loan. She was too shy to say no to your request, and so handed
you a mountain camellia. Centuries ago one of our poets sang of this
flower, 'Although it has seven or eight petals, yet, I grieve to say, it
has no seed' (_mino_). The cunning little witch has managed to say 'no'
to you in the most graceful way imaginable."
Here, where the castle stood, Iyeyasu started to build a city, at the
suggestion of his superior Hideyoshi. Thus began the great city of
Yedo,--now Tokio, the eastern capital of Japan. In 1600, Iyeyasu, then
at the head of affairs, pushed the work on his new city with energy,
employing no less than three hundred thousand men. The castle was
enlarged, canals were excavated, streets laid out and graded, marshes
filled, and numerous buildings erected, fleets of junks bringing granite
for the citadel, while the neighboring forests furnished the timber for
the dwellings.
An outer ditch was dug on a grand scale, and gates and towers were built
with no walls to join them and no dwellings within many furlongs of
their site. But to those who laughed at the magnificent plan on which
the young city had been laid out, the founder declared that the coming
time would see his walls built and the dwellings of the city stretching
far beyond them. Before a century his words were verified, and Yedo had
a population of half a million souls. To-day it is the home of more than
a million people.
It is for his political genius that Iyeyasu particularly deserves fame.
Once more, in 1615, he was forced to fight for his supremacy, against
the son of the late premier. A bloody battle followed, ending in victory
for Iyeyasu and the burning of the castle of Ozaka, in whose flames the
aspirant for power probably met his doom. No other battle was fought on
the soil of Japan for two hundred and fifty-three years.
Iyeyasu had the blood of the Minamoto clan in his veins. He had
therefore an hereditary claim to the shogunate, as successor to the
great Yoritomo, the founder of the family and the first to bear the
title of Great Shogun. This title, Sei-i Tai Shogun, was now conferred
by the mikado on the new military chief, and was borne by his
descendants, the Tokugawa family, until the great revolution of 1868,
when the mikado again seized his long-lost authority.
Before this period, civil war had for centuries desolated Japan. After
1615 war ceased in that long distracted land and peace and prosperity
prevailed. What were the steps taken by the new shogun to insure this
happy result? It arose through the establishment of a well-defined
system of feudalism, and the bringing of the feudal lords under the
immediate control of the shogun.
Japan was already organized on a semi-feudal system. The land was
divided between the great lords or daimios, who possessed strong
castles and large landed estates, with a powerful armed following, and
into whose treasuries much of the revenue of the kingdom flowed. These
powerful princes of the realm were conciliated by the conqueror. Under
them were daimios of smaller estate, many of whom had joined him in his
career; and lower still a large number of minor military holders, whose
grants of land enabled them to bring small bodies of followers into the
field.
Iyeyasu's plan was one of conciliation and the prevention of hostile
union. He laid his plans and left it to time to do his work. Some of the
richest fiefs of the empire were conferred upon his sons, who founded
several of its most powerful families. The possessions of the other
lords were redistributed, the land being divided up among them in a way
to prevent rebellious concentration, vassals and adherents of his own
being placed between any two neighboring lords whose loyalty was in
doubt. To prevent ambitious lords from seizing Kioto and making prisoner
the mikado, as had frequently been done in the past, he surrounded it on
all sides with strong domains ruled by his sons or friends. When his
work of redistribution was finished, his friends and vassals everywhere
lay between the realms of doubtful daimios. A hostile movement in force
had been rendered nearly impossible.
Below the daimios came the _hatamoto_, or supporters of the flag, direct
vassals of the shogun, of whom there were eighty thousand in Japan,
mostly descendants of proved warriors and with a train of from three to
thirty retainers each. These were scattered throughout the empire, but
the majority of them lived in Yedo. They formed the direct military
dependence of the shogun, and held most of the military and civil
positions. Under them again were the _gokenin_, the humbler members of
the Togukawa clan, and hereditary followers of the shogun. All these
formed the _samurai_, the men privileged to wear two swords and exempted
from taxes. Their number and readiness gave the shogun complete military
control of the empire, and made him master of all it held, from mikado
to peasant.
Such was the method adopted by the great statesman to insure peace to
the empire and to keep the power within the grasp of his own family. In
both respects it proved successful. A second important step was taken by
Iyemitsu, his grandson, and after him the ablest of the family. By this
time many of the noted warriors among the daimios were dead, and their
sons, enervated by peace and luxury, could be dealt with more vigorously
than would have been safe to do with their fathers.
Iyemitsu suggested that all the daimios should make Yedo their place of
residence for half the year. At first they were treated as guests, the
shogun meeting them in the suburbs and dealing with them with great
consideration. But as the years went on the daimios became more and more
like prisoners on parole. They were obliged to pay tribute of respect to
the shogun in a manner equivalent to doing homage. Though they could
return at intervals to their estates, their wives and children were kept
in Yedo as hostages for their good behavior. When Iyemitsu died, the
shoguns had cemented their power beyond dispute. The mikados, nominal
emperors, were at their beck and call; the daimios were virtual
prisoners of state; the whole military power and revenues of the empire
were under their control; conspiracy and attempted rebellion could be
crushed by a wave of their hands; peace ruled in Japan.
Iyemitsu was the first to whom the title of Tai Kun (Tycoon), or Great
King, was ever applied. It was in a letter written to Corea, intended to
influence foreigners. It was employed in a larger sense for the same
purpose at a later date, as we shall hereafter see. Suffice it here to
say that the Tokugawas remained the rulers of Japan until 1868, when a
new move in the game of empire was made.
_THE PROGRESS OF CHRISTIANITY IN JAPAN._
The fact that such a realm as that of Japan existed remained unknown in
Europe until about six centuries ago, when Marco Polo, in his famous
record of travel and adventure, first spoke of it. He knew of it,
however, only by Chinese hearsay, and the story he told contained far
more of fable than of fact. The Chinese at that time seem to have had
little knowledge of their nearest civilized neighbor.
[Illustration: Reproduced by permission of The Philadelphia Museums.
RETURNING FROM MARKET. JAPAN.]
"Zipangu"--the name he gives it--is, he says, "an island in the Eastern
Ocean, about fifteen hundred miles [Chinese miles] from the mainland.
Its people are well made, of fair complexion, and civilized in manner,
but idolaters in religion." He continues, "They have gold in the
greatest abundance, its sources being inexhaustible. To this
circumstance we are to attribute the extraordinary richness of the
sovereign's palace according to what we are told by those who have
access to the place. The entire roof is covered with a plating of gold,
in the same manner as we cover houses, or more properly churches, with
lead. The ceilings of the halls are of the same precious metal; many of
the apartments have small tables of pure gold, of considerable
thickness; and the windows have also golden ornaments. So vast, indeed,
are the riches of the palace that it is impossible to convey an idea of
them. In this island there are pearls also, in large quantities, of a
pink color, round in shape and of great size, equal in value to, or even
exceeding, that of the white pearls. There are also found there a number
of precious stones."
This story is as remote from truth as some of those told by Sindbad the
Sailor. Polo, no doubt, thought he was telling the truth, and knew that
this cascade of gold and pearls would be to the taste of his readers,
but anything more unlike the plainness and simplicity of the actual
palace of the mikado it would be hard to find.
For the next European knowledge of Japan we must step forward to the
year 1542. Columbus had discovered America, and Portugal had found an
ocean highway to the spice islands of the East. A Portuguese adventurer,
Mendez Pinto by name, ventured as far as China, then almost unknown,
and, with two companions, found himself on board a Chinese junk, half
trader, half pirate.
In a sea-fight with another corsair their pilot was killed, and soon
after a fierce storm blew them far off shore. Seeking to make the
Loochoo Islands, they lost them through lack of a pilot, and were tossed
about at the ocean's will for twenty-three days, when they made harbor
on Tane, a small island of Japan lying south of Kiushiu. Pinto, after
his return to Europe, told so many marvellous stories about Japan that
people doubted him as much as they had doubted Marco Polo. His very
name, Mendez, was extended into "mendacious." Yet time has done justice
to both these old travellers, who either told, or tried to tell, the
truth.
The Portuguese travellers were well received by the islanders,--who knew
not yet what firebrands they were welcoming. It took a century for
Europeans to disgust the Japanese so thoroughly as to force the
islanders to drive them from the land and put up the bars against their
return. What interested the Japanese even more than their visitors were
the new and strange weapons they bore. Pinto and his two comrades were
armed with arquebuses, warlike implements such as they had never before
seen, and whose powers filled them with astonishment and delight. It was
the era of civil war in Japan, and the possession of a new and deadly
weapon was eagerly welcomed by that martial people, who saw in it
visions of speedy success over their enemies.
Pinto was invited to the castle of the daimio of Bungo, whom he taught
the arts of making guns and gunpowder. The Japanese, alert at taking
advantage of the discoveries of other people, were quick to manufacture
powder and guns for themselves, and in the wars told of in our last few
tales native cannon were brought into use, though the razor-edged sword
continued the most death-dealing of their weapons.
As for the piratical trader which conveyed Pinto to Japan, it sold its
cargo at an immense profit, while the three Portuguese reached China
again rich in presents. This was not Pinto's only visit to Japan. He
made three other voyages thither, the last in 1556, as ambassador from
the Portuguese viceroy in the East. On this occasion he learned that
the islanders had made rapid progress in their new art of gun-making,
they claiming to have thirty thousand guns in Fucheo, the capital of
Bungo, and ten times that number in the whole land of Japan.
The new market for European wares, opened by the visit of Pinto, was
quickly taken advantage of by his countrymen, and Portuguese traders
made their way by hundreds to Japan, where they met with the best of
treatment. Guns and powder were especially welcome, as at that time the
power of the Ashikaga clan was at an end, anarchy everywhere prevailed,
and every local chief was in arms to win all he could from the ruins of
the state. Such was the first visit of Europeans to Japan, and such the
gift they brought, the fatal one of gunpowder.
The next gift of Europe to Japan was that of the Christian faith. On
Pinto's return to Malacca he met there the celebrated Francis Xavier,
the father superior of the order of the Jesuits in India, where he had
gained the highest reputation for sanctity and the power of working
miracles. With the traveller was a Japanese named Anjiro, whom he had
rescued from enemies that sought his death, and converted to
Christianity. Xavier asked him whether the Japanese would be likely to
accept the religion of the Christians.
"My people will not be ready to accept at once what may be told them,"
said Anjiro, "but will ask you a multitude of questions, and, above all,
will see whether your conduct agrees with your words. If they are
satisfied, the king, the nobles, and the people will flock to Christ,
since they constitute a nation that always accepts reason as a guide."
Thus encouraged, Xavier, whose enthusiasm in spreading the gospel was
deterred by no obstacle, set sail in 1549 for Japan, accompanied by two
priests and Anjiro, the latter with a companion who had escaped with him
in his flight from Japan.
The missionary party landed at Kagoshima, in Satsuma. Here they had
little success, only the family and relatives of Anjiro accepting the
new faith, and Xavier set out on a tour through the land, his goal being
Kioto, the mikado's capital. Landing at Amanguchi, he presented himself
before the people barefooted and meanly dressed, the result of his
confessed poverty being that, instead of listening to his words, the
populace hooted and stoned him and his followers. At Kioto he was little
better received.
Finding that a display of poverty was not the way to impress the
Japanese, the missionary returned to the city of Kioto richly clothed
and bearing presents and letters from the Portuguese viceroy to the
emperor. He was now well received and given permission to preach, and in
less than a year had won over three thousand converts to the Christian
faith.
Naturally, on reaching Kioto, he had looked for the splendor spoken of
by Marco Polo, the roof and ceilings of gold and the golden tables of
the emperor's palace. He was sadly disenchanted on entering a city so
desolated by fire and war that it was little more than a camp, and on
beholding the plainest and least showy of all the palaces of the earth.
Returning to the port of Fucheo for the purpose of embarking for India,
whence he designed to bring new laborers to the virgin field, Xavier
preached with such success as to alarm the Buddhist bonzes, who made
futile efforts to excite the populace against him as a vagabond and an
enchanter. From there he set out for China, but died on the way thither.
He had, however, planted the seed of what was destined to yield a great
and noble harvest.
In fact, the progress of Christianity in Japan was of the most
encouraging kind. Other missionaries quickly followed the great Jesuit
pioneer, and preached the gospel with surprising success. In less than
five years after the visit of Xavier to Kioto that city possessed seven
Christian churches, while there were many others in the southwest
section of the empire. In 1581, thirty years after Xavier's death, there
were in Japan two hundred churches, while the number of converts is
given at one hundred and fifty thousand. Several of the daimios were
converted to the new faith, and Nobunaga, who hated and strove to
exterminate the Buddhists, received the Christians with the greatest
favor, gave them desirable sites for their churches, and sought to set
them up as a foil to the arrogance of the bonzes.
The Christian daimios went so far as to send a delegation to the pope at
Rome, which returned eight years afterwards with seventeen Jesuit
missionaries, while a multitude of mendicant friars from the Philippine
Islands and elsewhere sought the new field of labor, preaching with the
greatest zeal and success. It is claimed that at the culminating point
of proselytism in Japan the native Christians numbered no less than six
hundred thousand, among them being several princes, and many lords, high
officials, generals, and other military and naval officers, with
numerous women of noble blood. In some provinces the Christian shrines
and crosses were as numerous as the Buddhist shrines had been before,
while there were thousands of churches, chapels, and ecclesiastical
edifices.
This remarkable success, unprecedented in the history of Christian
missionary work, was due in great measure to certain conditions then
existing in Japan. When Xavier and his successors reached Japan, it was
to find the people of that country in a state of the greatest misery,
the result of a long era of anarchy and misrule. Of the native
religions, Shintoism had in great measure vanished, while Buddhism,
though affecting the imaginations of the people by the gorgeousness of
its service, had little with which to reach their hearts.