THE MILITARY REGIME; THE TAIRA AND THE
MINAMOTO; THE SHOGUNATE OF KAMAKURA
For some time the military class had been rocking the prestige of the
court nobles, and at last superseded them by overturning their rotten
edifice. It was first by the wars of the so-called "Nine Years" and
"Three Years," both waged in northern Japan in the latter half of the
eleventh century by Yoriyoshi and Yoshiiye, the famous generals of the
Minamoto family, that the military class began to grow markedly powerful
and independent. Nearly a century passed, and then Yoritomo, one of the
great-great-grandsons of Yoshiiye, was able to set up his military
government, the Shogunate, at Kamakura in the province of Sagami.
Previous to the Kamakura Shogunate, there was an interim between it and
the old regime, the semi-military government of the Taira family. The
family of the Taira sprang, like that of the Minamoto, from a scion of
the imperial family, and, like the latter, had been engaged from the
first in the craft of war. Of the two, the Taira first succeeded in
courting the favour of the Fujiwara nobles, and the members of the
former family were appointed to less dangerous and more lucrative posts
than the Minamoto. As Japan at that time kept on gravitating toward the
west of Kyoto, it was natural that the influence of the Taira should
have been extended in the western provinces. Some of the noted warriors
belonging to this clan were now and then charged with the governorship
of the eastern provinces, and therefore their descendants were widely
scattered in those quarters also. In the east, however, the influence of
the Minamoto family was paramount, for noted warriors of this family
were more frequently employed than the Taira in the region against the
Ainu. In both of these families, the moral link between several branches
within the family was very loose, perhaps much weaker than in the
Highland clans in Scotland. Such dissension should be attributed to the
fact that those who passed under the same family name of the Minamoto or
the Taira became soon too numerous to present a united front always,
whenever a conflict with the rival family arose. At any rate the feud
between the respective main branches of the two families was very bitter
and inveterate, covering many generations. Of the two, the Minamoto,
hardened by constant warfare with the still savage tribes in the north,
and trained by the privations unavoidable in wars, surpassed the Taira
in robustness and bravery. The Taira became, on the contrary, as the
result of close contact with the courtiers at Kyoto, more refined than
the Minamoto. Though alternately employed as generals in war as well as
instruments in intrigues, the Taira were thought by the Fujiwara to be
more docile, and therefore were more trusted than the Minamoto. This is
why the former were able to seize possession of the government earlier
than the latter. Kiyomori, the first and the last of the Taira, who was
made the highest minister of the crown, as if he were himself one of the
Fujiwara nobles, was able to reach that goal of the ambition of
courtiers, by intruding himself among them, intermingling his sons and
grandsons with the flower of the Fujiwara, and at last he made one of
his daughters the consort of the Emperor Takakura. His only distinction
as compared with the old nobles was that his personal character was too
rough and soldier-like, and the means he resorted to were too drastic
and forcible, for the over-refined members of the Fujiwara. Kiyomori had
in his quality too much of the real statesman to be an idle player in
the pageants and ceremonies of the court, and it is said that he often
committed blunders through his unseemly deportment as courtier, and
became, on that account, the laughing-stock of the Fujiwara.
Nevertheless he, like the most of the Fujiwara, could not rid himself of
the mistaken idea, that the statesman and the courtier were the same
thing, so that none could be the one without being the other. The
younger members of the family were reared up rather as courtiers than as
soldiers, trained more in playing on musical instruments, in dancing,
and in witty versification of short poems than in the use of weapons.
The most memorable deed achieved by Kiyomori was the change of the
capital from Kyoto to Fukuwara, a part of the present city of Kobe. Till
then Kyoto had been continuously the capital of the empire for three and
a half centuries. To remove the centre of the government from that
sacrosanctity must have been a great surprise to the metropolitans. As
to the interpretation of the motives for this change, historians differ.
It is ascribed by some to Kiyomori's abhorrence of the conventionalism
which obtained in the old capital, and which was so deeply rooted as not
to be eradicated very easily so long as he stayed there, or else to his
anxious desire to get rid of the pernicious meddling of the audacious
priests of the temple Yenryakuji, on mount Hiyei, the source of great
annoyance to the government of Kyoto. By other historians the change is
said to have originated in Kiyomori's farsightedness in having set his
mind on the profit of the trade with China, the trade from which his
family had already reaped a huge profit, and which could be carried on
more actively by shifting the capital from Kyoto to the important port
of the Inland Sea. That he earnestly desired the facilitation of
navigation in the Inland Sea need not be doubted, for the cutting of the
strait of Ondo, the improvement of the harbour of Hyogo, as the port of
Kobe was called at that time, and many other works pertaining to the
navigation of the sea were undertaken at his orders. It is not certain,
however, whether any of the above mentioned motives sufficed alone to
induce him to forsake the historical metropolis. Whatever the reason the
change was a failure. It was very unpopular in the circle of the
Fujiwara nobles, who longed ardently to return to their old nests, and
baffled by the passive resistance of these nobles in whatever he tried
to do, Kiyomori could not achieve anything worthy of mention during the
remainder of his life.
The brief period of the Taira ascendancy thus passed away very swiftly.
It was since 1156 A.D., the year in which the war of the Hogen took
place, that the military-men had begun to discern that they they were
strong enough to displace the Fujiwara nobles. Only three years after
that, the destiny of the two rival families was for a time decided. The
Taira remained on the field, and the vanquished, that is to say, the
members of the chief branch of the Minamoto, were either killed or
deported, the rest having been scattered and rendered powerless to
resist. Yoritomo, one of these exiles, was taken into the custody of an
overseer of the province of Idzu, in the vicinity of which were settled
the descendants of the faithful followers of his forefathers. When an
opportunity came, therefore, he was able to muster without difficulty
those hereditary vassals, and overran, first the eastern provinces, and
then, with the assistance of one of his younger brothers, Yoshitsune,
who had taken refuge with Hidehira, the hybrid generalissimo of the half
independent province of Mutsu, he drove the Taira party out of Kyoto,
whither the capital had been transferred again a short time before, soon
after the death of Kiyomori. What remained to be done was consummated by
the tact and bravery of Yoshitsune. The partisans of the Taira family
fought very valiantly on the coast of the Inland Sea, but always
succumbed in the end to adverse destiny. In the last battle which was
fought on the sea near the strait of Shimonoseki, some of the Taira were
taken prisoners, and then decapitated. Many, however, died in the
battle, or drowned themselves, for to be killed in cold blood by an
enemy has ever been thought the most ignominious fate for a warrior of
Japan. In thus presenting a united front to the last in adversity, the
kernel of the Taira family, though much enervated by their court life,
proved themselves true sons of the chivalrous warriors of old Japan.
This catastrophe took place in the year 1185.
The flourishing period of the Taira family was of the short duration of
thirty years only. As the rise of the family was very sudden, its
downfall was equally abrupt. It was like a meteor traversing a corner of
the long history of Japan, leaving, however, an indelible memory to
posterity. The peculiar charm of the culture of the age represented by
the elite of the family during its ascendency, and its chivalrous end,
embellish the history of our country with a number of pathetic episodes
which provided abundant themes for poems, tales, and dramas of the
after-age. The most famous among this literature is a narration called
the _Heike-monogatari_, Heike in Chinese characters meaning "the family
of Taira." Whether the _monogatari_ or tale was first composed for the
purpose of being read or recited is a question. It is certain, however,
that when the story became widely known, called by the more simplified
name of "the _Heike_," it was generally recited as a chant, resembling
the melody of Buddhist hymns, accompanied by the playing the _biwa_, a
stringed instrument the shape of which has given its name to the largest
lake in Japan. This recitation is the precursor of the _utai_, which was
a kind of recitation fashionable in the next age. The origin of the more
modern _joruri_ recitation accompanied by the _shamisen_ may be traced
to the _Heike_ also. What pleased the audiences most in the _Heike_ were
the sad vicissitudes of the family and the gallant chivalry manifested
in its downfall. The former, preaching the uncertainty of human life,
was sufficient to touch the courtiers with keen pathos, courtiers who
had lived out their time, and having been taught by Buddhism to look on
every thing pessimistically, were glad to sympathise with whatever was
on the wane. Differently from them, warriors were also fond of hearing
the rehearsal of the _Heike_ with thrills piercing the heart, by putting
themselves in the place of some gallant Taira cavalier, who had fought
to the last with undaunted courage and met his death with calmness more
than mortal.
It is not only because the Taira family was in general more refined than
the Minamoto, and gave an impulse to the literature of Japan by its
enlightened chivalry, that the period forms an important turning-point
in the history of the civilisation of our country. Almost all the
essential traits of our civilisation during the whole military regime
can be said to have been initiated in this brief Taira epoch. As an
inheritor of the borrowed civilisation, the Taira warriors were not so
much saturated with the alien refinement as the Fujiwara nobles were,
and therefore, when they came nearer the throne, the aspect of the court
was not a little vulgarised, but instead there was a freshness in those
warriors which was found wanting among the Fujiwara, already overwrought
and exhausted by too much Chinese civilisation. This freshness may be
considered an index of the revival of the conservative spirit, which had
been long lurking in the lower strata of the nation. Conservatism in
such a phase of history is generally on the side of strength and energy.
It is true that Kiyomori, his sons, and grandsons endeavoured rather to
go up the ladder of the courtiers higher and higher, in order to soar
'above the cloud.' In other words, it was not their first ambition to
lead the people in the lower strata against the higher; they were not
revolutionists at all. But whatever might have been their real
intention, they could not ward off those followers who had a common
interest with them. There was no doubt that the lower class of people
sympathised with the military-men, whether they were of the Taira or of
the Minamoto family, far more deeply than with the Fujiwara nobles. The
ascendency, therefore, of the Taira stirred the long latent spirit of
the majority of the nation, and this re-awakening of the Japanese, if we
may call it so, gave life to every fibre of the social structure, urging
the nation to energetic movement.
The most tangible evidence of this resuscitation of Japan can be
obtained in the sculpture of the age. The first flourishing period of
Japanese sculpture anterior to this is the era of the Tempyo, that is to
say, during the reign of the Emperor Shomu. After that the art fell
gradually into decadence, and no period could compete with the Tempyo
era except the Taira age. The works of Unkei and Tankei, representative
masters who made their names at this time, though lagging far behind
those of Tempyo sculptors in exquisite softness and serenity, yet
surpassed the latter in vigour and strength. What they liked to
represent most were statues of deities rather than Buddha himself, and
of the deities they preferred those of martial character. Comparing
them with the Tempyo sculptures, in which the subject is not so narrowly
circumscribed, we can observe the change of the national spirit very
clearly.
In painting also, the most important progress of the age is the change
in subjects of this art, or rather the increase in varieties of subjects
to be painted. Before this time what the artists generally liked to
paint were the images of Buddha, Buddhist deities, scenes in Buddhist
history, and portraits of celebrated priests. Landscapes were put on
canvas, too, though not so frequently as those subjects pertaining to
Buddhism. Since then portraits, not only of priests, but also of laymen,
such as courtiers and generals, have been treated by our painters. Some
masterpieces of the new portraiture, by the brush of Takanobu, are
extant to this day. This development of portrait-painting may be
interpreted as a symptom of the newly-budding individualism on the
nation. As to scroll paintings, formerly we had pictures of consecutive
scenes in Buddhist history painted in that manner, but scenes from
secular history or genre pictures were rare. From this time onward we
have scrolls of a character not purely religious, though Buddhist
stories are still used as subjects for painting as before. Moreover, in
earlier scrolls the best attention was paid to painting Buddha or
deities, and not to delineating the auxiliaries, such as landscapes,
buildings, worshipping multitudes of various professions, and so forth,
while in the new kinds of scrolls more stress was laid on depicting
those auxiliaries rather than the pious personages themselves. Battle
scenes in the provinces of Mutsu and Dewa, or those between the Taira
and the Minamoto in the streets of Kyoto, were also painted on scrolls.
Another and quite novel kind extant of the scroll pictures of this age
is the satirical delineation of the manners and customs of the time by
the brush of the painter-priest Toba-sojo. In the famous scroll certain
animals familiar to the daily life, such as foxes, rabbits, frogs, and
so forth are depicted allegorically, each suggesting certain notorious
personages of various callings in the contemporary society.
As to literature, a difference similar in nature to those
characteristics of the literature of the preceding age can be observed
very distinctly. In the former period, though the essence of the
literature in Japanese was profoundly influenced by the Chinese spirit,
Chinese vocabularies and phrases rarely entered into sentences without
being translated into Japanese. That is to say, the Japanese literature
remained pure as to language, and went on side by side with the
literature in Chinese. Now the combination of the two kinds began to
take form. Chinese words, phrases, and several rhetorical figures began
to be poured into the midst of sentences, the structure remaining
Japanese as before, so that those sentences may be considered as
forming a kind of hybrid Chinese, with words juxtaposed in a Japanese
style, and connected by Japanese participles. This change resulted in
making a great many Japanese words obsolete, and it has since become
necessary for the Japanese constantly to resort to the Chinese
vocabulary in writing as well as in speaking. The growth of Japanese as
an independent language was thus regrettably retarded. At the same time
Japanese literature reaped an immense benefit from this adoption of the
Chinese vocabulary, for by it we became enabled to express our thoughts
concisely, forcibly, and when necessary in a very highflown style,
things not utterly impossible but exceedingly difficult for Japanese
pure in form. The use of Chinese ideographs thus increased from
generation to generation, until now it has become too late to try to
eradicate them. All that which the Japanese nation has achieved in the
past, its history, nay, its whole civilisation, has been handed to us,
recorded in the language, which is woven of Chinese vocabularies and
Japanese syntax, and denoted by symbols which are nothing but Chinese
ideographs and their abbreviations, the Kana. A movement to supersede
the Chinese ideographs by the exclusive use of the _kana_, which are
very simple abbreviations of those ideographs, was initiated at the
beginning of the Meidji era, but was dropped soon afterwards. Another
radical movement to substitute the Roman alphabet for the Chinese
ideographs and the _kana_ in writing Japanese, was started nearly at
the same time, and still continues to have a certain number of zealous
advocates. The success of such a movement, however, depends on the value
of the civilisation already acquired by the Japanese. If that amounts to
nothing, and can be cast aside without any regret, in other words, if
the history of Japan counts for nothing for the present and the future
of the country, then the movement would have some chance of success;
otherwise the attainment of the object is a dream of the millenium.
The manifestation of the new spirit of the new age in the sphere of
religion is not less remarkable than in that of art or of literature.
Since its introduction into our country, Buddhism had been very singular
in its position as regards the social life of the nation. Though the
imperial family and the higher nobles earnestly embraced the new creed,
and worshipped the "gods of the barbarians," this acceptance of Buddhism
cannot be called a conversion, because their religious thoughts were
never engrossed by it. They continued to pay a very sincere respect to
the old deities of Japan as before, while they were adoring Buddha
enthusiastically. Shintoism was, if not a religion, something very much
like a religion, more than anything else. So long as Shintoism remained
as influential as of yore, the Japanese could not be said to have been
converted to Buddhism. The Buddhist priests, having perceived this,
tried not to supersede but to incorporate Shintoism into their own
creed, as I have explained before, and succeeded in it, but could not
erase the independence of Shintoism entirely out of the spiritual life
of the Japanese. It cannot be doubted that Buddhism was made secure as
regards its position in Japan by this incorporation, but in general it
gained not much. Assimilation, generally speaking, has as its object, to
destroy the independent existence of the things to be assimilated, and
at the same time the assimilator must run the risk of causing a
condition of heterogeneity on account of the addition of the new
element. Buddhism could not destroy the independent existence of
Shintoism, and the former became heterogeneous by the assimilation of
the latter, so that the _raison d'etre_ of Buddhism in Japan was very
much weakened by the assimilation. The lower strata of the nation were
very slow in being penetrated by Buddhism, notwithstanding the
munificent encouragement afforded to it by the government, for example,
by appointing preachers not only in the neighbourhood of the capital,
but in distant provinces also, or by ordering the erection of one temple
in each province at the expense of the government. The common people
were in need of salvation indeed, but from the Buddhism which was
nationalised, they could not expect to obtain what they were unable to
find in Shintoism.
In short, Buddhism, by its transformation and nationalisation, lost
universality, its strongest point, and was rendered quite powerless,
that is to say, blunted in the edge. Buddhism as a religious philosophy
remained of course intact, but the cunning device of priests to make it
conformable to our country went too far, and resulted only in weakening
its efficiency as a practical religion. There were still to be found
some numbers of priests who pursued their study in the intricate
philosophy of Buddhism, in cloisters, in the depths of some forest or
mountain recesses, but they were almost powerless to act upon society in
general. The mass of the people looked on Buddhism only as the worship
of an aggregation of deities, not much different from common objects of
superstition, or simply as a kind of show very pleasant to see and to
enjoy. They were too busy to care for meditation, and too ignorant to
venture on philosophising.
Religion as a show! Seemingly what an astounding blasphemy even to
entertain such an idea! No foreign reader, however, would be shocked at
it, who knows that religious plays made the beginning of the modern
stage of Europe, and that in villages in the Alpine valleys there may be
found some survivals of them even now. Not only that, the services of
the Roman Catholic and of the Greek Orthodox Church contain even to this
day not a few theatrical elements. An appeal of this nature to the
audience has always the effect of making the religion poetical, and
therefore was the method chiefly resorted to by the Church in the Middle
Ages throughout all Christendom. The method employed by the Buddhists in
our country was just the same. They instituted various ceremonies and
processions, each apportioned to a certain definite day of a certain
season, and these religious shows served to captivate the minds of the
spectators.
Here, however, the difference should be noticed between Christianity and
Buddhism. The former as a rule is the religion which finds its foothold
first among the lower classes of the people, while the latter, in Japan
at least, began its propaganda with the upper circles of the nation, and
then proceeded downwards. Though the courtiers could frequently enjoy
the gorgeous spectacles carried out by priests clad in rich robes of
variegated colours amid heavenly music, such scenes could be witnessed
only in and about the metropolis, and were moreover too costly and
aristocratic to be enjoyed by the common people. The masses were not
only debarred from the salvation of their souls, but from the sight of
the pageants, the best pastime which an age devoid of a theatre could
afford. Yet those masses were a necessary ingredient of society in
Japan, by no means to be neglected. Though very slowly, their eyes were
opening, and they were beginning to claim their due. How could this
demand, not sufficiently conscious to the claimants themselves, be
provided for? Solely by Buddhism, which should have been by whatever
means reformed.
Shintoism, though it has had a very tenacious grip on the national
spirit of the Japanese, is deficient in certain particulars, and cannot
be called a religion in the strict sense, so that it was difficult for
it to march with the ever-advancing civilisation of our country. If
there was a need, therefore, for something which could not be obtained
outside of religion, it was to be sought elsewhere than in Shintoism,
that is to say, in Buddhism, which was then the only cult in Japan
worthy to be called a religion. To seek from it anything new, which it
could not give in the state it had been, means that it ought to have
been reformed. It is true that there had been repeated attempts, since
the beginning of the tenth century, to make Buddhism accessible and
intelligible to all classes of the people, and this kind of movement had
become especially active at the end of the eleventh century. What was
common to all of these movements was the endeavor to teach the merit of
the _nem-butsu_, that is to say, the belief that anybody who would
invoke the help of Buddha by calling repeatedly the name of Amita, one
of the manifestations of Buddha, would be assured of the blissful
after-life, and that the oftener the invocation was made the surer was
the response. Most elaborate among them was an organisation of a
religious community resembling in its character a joint-stock company. A
member of this community was required to contribute to the accumulation
of the blessing by repeating its invocation a certain number of times,
like a shareholder of a company paying for his share. This community is
in a great measure analogous to those societies of Europe in the later
Middle Ages, which tried to accumulate the virtues of the Ave Maria sung
by their members. The most striking characteristic of this community was
that it extolled its own unique merit which lay in having as its members
all the Buddhist deities, whose celestial _nem-butsu_ would be sure to
augment the dividends of the earthly shareholders!
To organise such a community was not to undermine the traditional
edifice of Buddhism in Japan, but to support it, just as those mendicant
orders, Benedictine, Augustine, Franciscan, Dominican, and so forth,
were formed but in behalf of the Church of Rome. The intention of those
who emphasised the _nem-butsu_ was very far from that of becoming the
harbingers of the reform movement of the following generations, though
the latter aimed at nearly the same thing as the early promoters of the
_nem-butsu_ did. Yeshin, a priest in the temple of Yenryakuji, became
the precursor of Honen, who was born more than one hundred years after
the death of his forerunner. The former would not and could not become a
reformer, though he was highly adored by the latter for his saintliness,
who styled himself the only expounder of the former. The latter, too,
was very modest and never ventured to proclaim himself a reformer.
Honen was one of the meekest Buddhists in Japan. Yet he was forced
against his will to become the founder of the Jodo sect, which has
continued influential to this day. All the religious reformers of the
Kamakura period ran in his wake.
Religion, art, and literature were all thus transforming themselves
almost at the same time, and that very time coincided exactly with the
moment in which the most important change in the political sphere was
taking place. Such a coincidence in the development of the various
factors of civilisation cannot be lightly overlooked as a mere chance
happening. Surely it must have been actuated by a common impulse, which
was nothing but the urgent demand of the _Zeitgeist_. The regime matured
by the Fujiwara nobles at Kyoto had already come to a standstill. Japan
had to be pushed on by any means whatever. It is this necessity which
allowed the Taira to get the upper hand of the Fujiwara. The rise of
this soldier-family cannot be attributed merely to the merit of its
representative members. But its fall owed much to their incompetency in
not having become conscious of their position in the history of Japan.
No sooner had they grasped the reins of the government, than they began
to tread the path which their predecessors had trod, the path leading
only to the stumbling-block. Too quickly they were transforming
themselves into pseudo-courtiers. "The mummy-seekers were about to be
turned into mummies," as a Japanese proverb has it. It was just at this
juncture, the last phase of the transformation of the Taira warriors,
that they were overturned by the Minamoto. In short, the course on which
the Taira steered was against the current of the age. If the family had
remained in power longer than it actually did, then the just budded
spirit of the new age would have dwindled away, and to Japan might have
fallen the same lot as befell to other oriental monarchies. For our
country it was fortunate that the Taira were no longer able to stay at
the helm of the state.
Minamoto-no-Yoritomo preferred, at the establishment of his Shogunate, a
course quite different from that of the Taira. Having been brought up
during his boyhood at Kyoto, and being therefore acquainted with the
realities of the metropolitan modes of life, he might have been,
perhaps, averse to the Sybaritism of the court. If, on the other hand,
he had been inclined to follow in the footsteps of the Taira, he was not
in a position to behave as he would have liked, for it was not by any
exertion of his own that he was exalted to the virtual dictatorship of
the military government. The Minamoto and the Taira who had settled in
the eastern provinces, in spite of the difference of their families, had
been accustomed to the same condition of living, and they fought often
under the same banner against the Ainu. Though quarrels were not lacking
among them, they could not help feeling the warmth of the fraternity of
arms toward one another. These "rough riders" had gradually become
refined by the education imparted by country priests; _terakoya_, the
"hut in a temple," was the sole substitute for the elementary school at
that time. They had, too, occasion to come into contact with the
civilised life of the metropolis, for it was their duty to stay there by
turns, sometimes for years, as guards of the capital and of the imperial
residence. Intelligent warriors among them took to the city life and
mastered some of the accomplishments highly prized by courtiers. Most of
them, however, looked with scornful smile upon the degenerate courtiers,
like the Germans in the Eternal City looking with disgust on the
decadent state of Imperial Rome. When Yoritomo entered into their
company as an exile from Kyoto, these warriors were very glad to receive
him, for he was descended from the family of the generals whom their
forefathers had served hereditarily, and whose names they still revered.
With this exile as their leader, they rose united against the Taira, the
traditional enemy of the family to which he belonged. After the success
of their arms they had no desire to have their chief turned into a
pseudo-courtier after the example of the Taira soldiers. Kamakura was
therefore chosen as the seat of the military government. This was in the
year 1183.
In truth, Kamakura cannot be said to be a place strategically
impregnable even in those early times. It is too narrow to become the
capital of Japan, being closely hemmed in by a chain of hills. Though
situated on the sea, its bay is too shallow, not fit for mooring even a
small wooden bark. The reason why the place happened to be chosen must
be sought, therefore, not in its geographical position, but in that the
town was planted nearly in the centre of the region inhabited by the
supporters of Yoritomo. That it was also the location of the Shinto
shrine, Hachiman of Tsurugaoka, might have had not a little weight in
influencing the choice, because it was in this shrine that Yoshiiye, the
forefather of Yoritomo and the adored demigod of the warriors of Japan,
performed the ceremony of the attainment of his full manhood.
The military government, the Shogunate, set up at Kamakura, was in its
nature of quite a different type from that of the Taira at Kyoto. Before
entering into details, it is necessary, however, to say something about
the change in the signification of government. When the Fujiwara became
the real masters of Japan, they tried at first to govern wisely and
sincerely. But as time passed their energy and determination gradually
relaxed. Their growing wealth obtained by encroachment on public lands
tended to mould them as a profligate and indolent folk, so that they
became at last wholly unfitted for any serious state affairs. Moreover,
from the lack of any event which would have necessitated united action
of all the family, a condition which might have been exceedingly
difficult to attain even if they had wished it, on account of the
multiplication of branches, never-ceasing internal feuds which helped
only to weaken the prestige of the family as a whole were perpetually
arising. It was at this juncture that the Emperor Go-Sanjo tried to
recover the reins once lost to the hands of his ancestors. The task
which he left unfinished was achieved by his son and successor, the
Emperor Shirakawa. When the power was restored to the emperor, however,
it was not in the same condition as when lost. The state business
decreased in scope and significance, all that was left being merely the
disposal of not very numerous manor lands, which had been left untouched
by the greedy Fujiwara, and the policing of the capital. The Emperor
Shirakawa did not deem it necessary as reigning Emperor to pay regular
attention to them. He abdicated, therefore, in favour of his son, and
from his retired position he managed the so-called state affairs. As the
result of such an assumption of power, the position of the reigning
emperor became very problematic, and irresponsibility prevailed
everywhere. The imperial family thus regained some of its historical
prestige, and succeeded in curbing the arrogance of the Fujiwara. The
latter, however, continued very rich and powerful, though not so
politically mighty as before. For a short while the Taira achieved its
object in partially supplanting the influence of the Fujiwara, but it
could not perceptibly weaken the latter. The downfall of the Taira
showed clearly that in such a state of the country mere names and titles
meant practically nothing, and that the military power supported by
material resources was the thing most worth coveting. The Taira started
on this line, but soon collapsed by abandoning it. How could a shrewd
politician like Yoritomo be expected to imitate the blunder of his
opponent?
The Shogunate set up by Yoritomo at Kamakura was not of the sort which
could appropriately be called a regularly organised government. It was
modelled after the organisation of a family-business office, which was
common to all the noble families of high rank. There were several
functionaries in the Shogunate, but they had the character rather of
private servants than of state officials. The Shogun's secretaries,
body-guards, butlers and so forth served under him not on account of any
official regulation connecting them publicly with him, but only as his
retainers, and were designated by the name of the _go-kenin_, which
means "the men of the august household." To sum up, the Shogunate was
established not for the state but for the family business. Yoritomo had
never pretended to take possession of the government of Japan. The fact
that at the beginning of the Shogunate its jurisdiction did not extend
over the whole of the empire testifies to the same.
In the foregoing chapters I have spoken about the encroachment on public
lands by the Fujiwara nobles. The private farms which were called the
_sho-yen_ and resembled in their character the manors or great landed
estates in England, increased year by year, so that they extended at
last to all the distant provinces of the country. Some emperors were
resolute enough to try to put a stop to the growth of this onerous
infringement of the public property, but the orders issued by them had
very little effect. As to the management of these farms, they were not
administered directly by those nobles who owned them, and it was not
uncommon for many manors lying far apart from one another to belong to
the same owner. The proprietors, therefore, generally stationed some of
their domestic servants in those manors to act as caretakers, or
confided the management to men who were the original reclaimers of those
manors or their descendants, from whom the nobles had received the lands
as a donation. By this assumption of the duty of management, these
servants of these nobles arrogated to themselves the right to govern and
command the people living upon the estates, without any appointment from
the government itself. It cannot be disputed that it was a kind of
usurpation not allowable in the regular state of any organised country.
The provincial governors of that time, however, were impotent to put a
bridle on those impudent managers, for most of the governors appointed
stayed in Kyoto to enjoy the pleasure of city life, and left the
business of the province to be administered by their lieutenants.
Moreover, some of the manors were evidently exempted from the
intervention of the provincial officials by a special order. In other
words, most of the manors were communities which were to a great degree
autonomous, each under the jurisdiction of a half independent manager,
and that manager again standing in a subordinate position to his patron,
who resided generally at Kyoto. So far I have spoken only of the manors
belonging to the nobles of the higher class, including members of the
imperial family. Other manors possessed by Shinto shrines and Buddhist
temples were also under a regime not much different from those of the
nobles. The Taira, too, at the zenith of their family power, had a great
number of such estates and the sons of Kiyomori fought against the
Minamoto with forces recruited from the tenants of those manors.
When Yoritomo overcame the Taira, he confiscated all the manors which
had formerly been possessed by that family, and appointed one of his
retainers to each of these appropriated manors as _djito_, which
literally means a chief of the land. The duty of these _djito_ was to
collect for their lord Shogun a certain amount of rice, proportional to
the area of the rice fields belonging to the estate. This reserved rice
was destined to be used as provision for soldiers, and was in reality
the income of the _djito_, for he was himself the very soldier who would
use that rice as provision. Besides the collection of rice, he had to
keep in order the manor to which he had been appointed as chief, that is
to say, the police of the manor was in his hands. Once appointed, a
_djito_ could make his office hereditary, though for this the sanction
of the Shogunate was necessary. Yoritomo appointed also a military
governor to each of the provinces. The authority of this governor,
called the _shugo_, extended over all the retainers of the Shogun in
that province, including the _djito_. It should be noticed, however,
that the _shugo_ was as a rule a warrior, who held the office of _djito_
at the same time, in or out of that province.
As to the manors which were owned by Kyoto nobles, shrines, and temples,
and therefore not at the disposal of the Shogun, no _djito_ was
appointed to them. Though the disputes about the boundaries, right of
inheritance, and various other questions concerning the estates were
decided by the legal councillors of the Shogunate, jurisdiction was
restricted to those cases in which some retainer of the Shogun was a
party. Otherwise, the right of decision was denied by the Shogun. The
Shogun never claimed any right over the land which did not stand
expressly under his jurisdiction. From this it can be inferred that he
did not pretend to take over the civil government of the whole of
Japan. By the foundation of the Shogunate, however, Yoritomo became a
very powerful military chief, sanctioned by the Emperor with the
conferment of the title of "generalissimo to chastise the Ainu", and at
need he was able to mobilise a large number of soldiers, by giving
orders to _djito_ through the _shugo_ of the provinces. None was able to
compete with him in military strength, and the business of the civil
government had necessarily to fall into the hands of him who was the
strongest in material force.
If such an anomalous state, as we see in the beginning of the Shogunate,
had continued very long, the Shogunate would never have become the
regular government of the country, and the dismemberment of Japan might
have been the ultimate result. But fortunately for the future of our
country, it did not remain as it was first established. Those managers
of manors not belonging to the Shogun, seeing that they could be better
protected from above by turning themselves into retainers of the Shogun,
volunteered for his service. Nobles, shrines, and temples possessing
these manors complained of course about the enlistment of the
manor-managers into the Shogunate service. For by the transformation of
the managers, those manors _ipso facto_ came under the military
jurisdiction of Kamakura. As those owners, however, could not prevent
the transformation, and as the income from those estates did not
decrease in any great measure by the extension of the jurisdiction of
the Shogun over them, they had nothing to do, but tacitly to acquiesce
in the new conditions. The number of retainers thus increased rapidly,
and with it the Shogunate's sphere of jurisdiction grew wider and wider,
till at last it covered the greater part of the Empire. The Shogunate
was then no more a mere business office of a family, but the government
_de facto_ recognised by the whole nation. This process was consummated
in the middle of the first half of the thirteenth century.
It would be a mistake to suppose that such a momentous change was
effected without any disturbance. The Kyoto nobles, who were unable at
first to see the political importance of the establishment of the
Shogunate in an insignificant provincial village, were gradually
awakened to the real loss which they would surely suffer by it, and
longed to recover the reins, which they had once forgotten to keep and
guard. Besides, there were many malcontent warriors both within and
without the Shogunate. For after the death of Yoritomo, though the title
of Shogun was inherited by his two sons, one after the other, the real
power of the Shogunate fell into the hands of his wife's relations, the
family of Hojo. Warriors of other families were excluded from a share in
the military government, and they, dissatisfied on that account, wished
for some change in order to overthrow the Hojo. Needless to say that
outside of the Shogunate ambitious men were not lacking, who desired to
set up another Shogunate in place of that at Kamakura, if they could.
All these discontented soldiery allied themselves with the Kyoto nobles,
and caused the civil war of Jokyu to ensue between them and the
Shogunate represented by the Hojo family. The war ended in the defeat of
the former, and the Shogunate emerged out of the war far stronger than
before.
Thirteen years after the war, the first compilation of laws of the
Shogunate was undertaken by Yasutoki Hojo. It is called "the compiled
laws of the Joyei," Joyei being the name of the era in which the
compilation was issued. This compilation was not so much a work of
elaborate systematisation, nor an imitation of foreign laws, as was the
reform legislation of the Taiho. Rather it should be called a collection
of abstracts of particular law cases decided by the judicial staff of
the Shogunate. It is therefore an outcome of necessitated experiences
like English "case-law", and had not the character of statute laws or
provisions deduced from a certain fundamental legal principle in
anticipation of all probable occurrences. The object of the compilation
is clearly stated in the epilogue written by Yasutoki himself. According
to this, it was far from the motive of the compilers to displace the old
system of legislation by the promulgation of the new one. Old laws
became a dead letter, without being formally abrogated, while the new
code was issued only for the practical benefit of the people in charge
of various businesses.
Whatever might have been the real motive of Yasutoki and his legal
councillors, the very act of the compilation cannot in itself fail to
betray the consciousness on the part of the Shogunate that it had
already a sufficiency of test cases decided to supply models for the
decision of most of the disputes that might be brought before them in
the future. Or we might say that the Hojo became confirmed in their
belief that the Shogunate was now so firmly established as not to be
easily shaken at its foundation, and that they could henceforth command
in the name of a regular government without any fear of serious
disturbances. Certainly their victory in the civil war must have rid
them of any apprehension of danger from the side of Kyoto.
This compilation was issued in the year 1232, that is to say, about
fifty years after the founding of the Kamakura Shogunate. Thus we can
see that this half-century had wrought an important change in the
history of Japan. During this time the military regime was enabled to
strike a firm root deep into the national life of the Japanese. The
family of the Minamoto soon became extinct by the death of the second
son of Yoritomo, and scions of a Fujiwara noble and then some of the
imperial princes were brought from Kyoto one after another as the
successors to the Shogunate. Yet they were all but tools in the capable
hands of the Hojo family, which remained the real master of the
military government of Kamakura. In course of time, the Hojo also fell,
but other military families successively arose to power, and the
military regime was kept up by them in Japan until the middle of the
nineteenth century. It is true that those changes in the headship and in
the location of the Shogunate caused as a matter of fact corresponding
changes in the nature of the respective military regime. The Shogunate
of the Ashikaga family was of a different sort from that of Kamakura,
while that of the Tokugawa at Yedo was again of another type than the
Ashikaga's at Kyoto. Throughout all these different Shogunates, however,
certain common characteristics prevailed, so that a wide gap may be
discerned between them as a whole and the government of the Fujiwara
courtiers. And those characters indeed have their origin all in this
first half century of the Kamakura Shogunate.
What most distinguished the military regime from the preceding
government was its being pragmatic and unconventional. It was not on
account of noble lineage alone, that Yoritomo was able to establish his
Shogunate. He owed a great deal to the willing assistance of the
warriors scattered in the eastern provinces, who claimed descent from
some illustrious personages in our history, but in fact had forefathers
of modest living for many generations, and had maintained very intimate
relations with the common people. The Shogunate was bound by this
reason not to neglect the interests of those who had thus contributed to
its establishment. Moreover, in order to be able to raise a strong army
at any time when necessary, the Shogunate was obliged to take minute
care of the welfare of the retainers and of the people at large, for the
faithfulness of the former and popularity among the latter counted more
than other things as props of the regime. The contrast is remarkable
when we compare it to the government by the Fujiwara nobles, who made an
elaborate legislation, professing to govern uprightly and leniently, and
to be beneficial even to the lowest stratum of the people, yet in
reality caring very little for the felicity of the governed, looking on
them always with contempt, though this lack of sympathy might be
attributed more to some old racial relation than to the morality of
those nobles. After all, the government of the Shogun, being regulated
by a few decrees and guided by practical common sense, operated far
better than the Fujiwara's. Where formalism had reigned, reality began
now to prevail. The spirit of the age was about to be emancipated from
convention. Japan was regenerated.
It was this regeneration of Japan, which kept up and nourished what was
initiated in the Taira period. But for the Kamakura Shogunate, however,
those germs of the new era might have been blasted forever. One thread
of the continuous development from the Taira to the Minamoto period may
be clearly discerned in the sphere of religion. In 1212 died Honen, the
reformer of Buddhism, of whom I have already spoken in the preceding
chapter, but before his death his teachings had gathered a great many
adherents around him, and the sect of the Jodo became independent of
that of the Tendai. It was from this Jodo sect that the Shinshu or the
"orthodox" Jodo, now one of the most influential Buddhist sects in
Japan, sprang up, and became independent also. Shinran, the founder of
the latter sect, is said to have been one of the disciples of Honen, and
the tenets of his sect, initiated by Shinran himself and supplemented by
his successors, bear striking resemblance to the reform tenets of Luther
in laying stress on faith and in denouncing reliance on the merit of
good works in order to arrive at salvation. That the priests belonging
to this sect have avowedly led a matrimonial life, a custom which was
unique to this sect among Japanese Buddhists, is another point of
resemblance to Lutheranism. In other respects, for example, in preaching
the doctrine of predestination, it can be considered as analogous to
Calvinism also.
Another important sect, which branched off from the Tendai, is that of
the followers of Nichiren. His sect is called the Hokke, or Nichiren,
after the name of the founder himself, and the sect still contains a
vast number of devotees. It is the most militant sect of Buddhism in
Japan, and that militancy might be traced to the personality of
Nichiren, the founder, who was the most energetic and aggressive priest
Japanese Buddhism has ever produced. He, too, never claimed to have
founded a new sect, and insisted that his doctrine was simply a
resuscitated Tendai tenet. We can easily see, however, that in its
pervading tendency it approached other reformed sects of the same age
rather than the old or orthodox Tendai. Nichiren died in the year 1282,
so that his most flourishing period falls in the middle of the
thirteenth century.
One more sect I cannot pass without commenting on is the Zen sect. Its
founder in Japan is Yosai, whose time coincided with that of Honen.
Twice he went over to China, which had been for more than two hundred
years under the sovereignty of the Sung dynasty, and studied there the
doctrine of the Zen sect, which was then prevailing in that country.
After his return from abroad, he began to preach first at Hakata, which
had long continued the most thriving port for the trade with China.
Afterwards he removed to Kyoto and thence to Kamakura, making
enthusiasts everywhere, especially among the warriors. Like all other
new sects, the teaching of Yosai was not entirely a novelty, being a
development of one of the many elements which constituted old Buddhism.
The specialty of the sect was, instead of arriving at salvation by
belief in some supernatural being outside and above one's self, to
encourage meditation and introspection and its general character tended
to be mystic, intuitive, and individualistic. Strong self-reliance and
resolute determination, qualities indispensable to warriors, were the
natural and necessary outcome of this teaching. It was largely
patronised by the Shogunate and the Hojo on that account. Though Yosai
became the founder of the sect, neither he himself nor his teaching
could hardly be called sectarian. To establish an hierarchical community
or to organise a systematised doctrine was beyond his purpose, but the
result of his preaching was precisely to bring both into being.
Not only the characteristics of these new sects, but the manner of their
propagation deserves close attention. Some of them were started in the
eastern provinces, and gradually extended their missionary activity
toward the west, that is to say, in the direction which is contrary to
that of the extension of civilisation in former times. Others, though
started in the west or at Kyoto, concentrated their efforts in the
eastern provinces with Kamakura as centre of propagation. In short, all
the reformed sects turned their attention rather to the eastern than to
the western provinces. This preference of the east to the west
originated in the circumstance that the less civilised east gave to
those missioners a greater prospect of enlisting new adherents, than
western Japan, which would of a surety be slow to follow their new
teachings, having been already won over by the older cults. It might,
however, be added that the preachers of the new doctrines saw, or
rather overvalued, the importance of the new political centre as the
nucleus of a fresh civilisation which might rapidly develop.
To say sooth, the field of activity of those untiring priests was not
restricted to those eastern provinces, which are denoted by the general
appellation of "Kwanto", but was extended into the far northern
provinces of Mutsu and Dewa. This region at the extremity of Honto was
long ago created as provinces, but had lagged far behind the rest of
Japan in respect of civilisation. A considerable number of the Ainu were
still lingering in the northern part of the two provinces.
Fujiwara-no-Hidehira, the generalissimo of the region, who harboured
Yoshitsune, the younger brother and victim of Yoritomo, is said to have
been of Ainu blood. His sphere of influence reached Shirakawa on the
south, which was considered at that time the boundary between civilised
and barbarous Japan. The time had arrived, however, when this barrier
was at last to be done away with. When a quarrel arose between the two
brothers, Yoritomo and Yoshitsune, after the annihilation of the Taira,
and the latter sought refuge with Hidehira, Yoritomo thought of marching
into Mutsu. This expedition was undertaken in the year 1189, after the
death of Hidehira. His sons were easily defeated. The land taken from
them was distributed by Yoritomo among his soldiers, who followed him
from the Kwanto and fought under his banner. The vast region, by coming
thus under the military authority of the Kamakura Shogunate, was for the
first time, taken into Japan proper. It was on account of this extension
of political Japan over the whole of Honto, that the new sects had a
chance to penetrate into those provinces.
We have seen that religion was the first and the most forcible exponent
of the new age. If the Shogunate of Kamakura had remained in power
longer than it did, other factors of the new civilisation might have
developed quite afresh around the Shogunate. Art and literature of
another type than that which flourished at Kyoto might have blossomed
forth. The time was, however, not yet ripe for the total regeneration of
Japan. The conventionalism of the Kyoto civilisation more and more
influenced the Shogunate, which was still too young and had nothing
solid of its own civilisation capable of resisting the infiltration of
the old. Besides, several difficulties which lay in the way of the
Shogunate cooperated in bringing about its fall in the year of 1332.
Japan had to go on in a half regenerated state for some time.