The Wonderful Adventures of Funakoshi Jiuyémon
The doughty deeds and marvellous experiences of Funakoshi Jiuyémon are
perhaps, like those of Robin Hood and his Merry Men, rather
traditional than historical; but even if all or part of the deeds
which popular belief ascribes to him be false, his story conveys a
true picture of manners and customs. Above all, the manner of the
vengeance which he wreaked upon the wife who had dishonoured him, and
upon her lover, shows the high importance which the Japanese attach to
the sanctity of the marriage tie.
The 50th and 51st chapters of the "Legacy of Iyéyasu," already quoted,
say: "If a married woman of the agricultural, artisan, or commercial
class shall secretly have intercourse with another man, it is not
necessary for the husband to enter a complaint against the persons
thus confusing the great relation of mankind, but he may put them both
to death. Nevertheless, should he slay one of them and spare the
other, his guilt is the same as that of the unrighteous persons.
"In the event, however, of advice being sought, the parties not having
been slain, accede to the wishes of the complainant with, regard to
putting them to death or not.
"Mankind, in whose bodies the male and female elements induce a
natural desire towards the same object, do not look upon such
practices with aversion; and the adjudication of such cases is a
matter of special deliberation and consultation.
"Men and women of the military class are expected to know better than
to occasion disturbance by violating existing regulations; and such an
one breaking the regulations by lewd, trifling, or illicit intercourse
shall at once be punished, without deliberation or consultation. It is
not the same in this case as in that of agriculturists, artisans, and
traders."
As a criminal offence, adultery was, according to the ancient laws of
Japan, punished by crucifixion. In more modern times it has been
punished by decapitation and the disgraceful exposure of the head
after death; but if the murder of the injured husband accompany the
crime of adultery, then the guilty parties are crucified to this day.
At the present time the husband is no longer allowed to take the law
into his own hands: he must report the matter to the Government, and
trust to the State to avenge his honour.
Sacred as the marriage tie is so long as it lasts, the law which cuts
it is curiously facile, or rather there is no law: a man may turn his
wife out of doors, as it may suit his fancy. An example of this
practice was shown in the story of "The Forty-seven Rônins." A husband
has but to report the matter to his lord, and the ceremony of divorce
is completed. Thus, in the days of the Shoguns' power, a Hatamoto who
had divorced his wife reported the matter to the Shogun. A Daimio's
retainer reports the matter to his Prince.
The facility of divorce, however, seems to be but rarely taken
advantage of: this is probably owing to the practice of keeping
concubines. It has often been asked, Are the Japanese polygamists? The
answer is, Yes and no. They marry but one wife; but a man may,
according to his station and means, have one or more concubines in
addition. The Emperor has twelve concubines, called Kisaki; and
Iyéyasu, alluding forcibly to excess in this respect as _teterrima
belli causa_, laid down that the princes might have eight, high
officers five, and ordinary Samurai two handmaids. "In the olden
times," he writes, "the downfall of castles and the overthrow of
kingdoms all proceeded from this alone. Why is not the indulgence of
passions guarded against?"
The difference between the position of the wife and that of the
concubine is marked. The legitimate wife is to the handmaid as a lord
is to his vassal. Concubinage being a legitimate institution, the son
of a handmaid is no bastard, nor is he in any way the child of shame;
and yet, as a general rule, the son of the bondwoman is not heir with
the son of the free, for the son of the wife inherits before the son
of a concubine, even where the latter be the elder; and it frequently
happens that a noble, having children by his concubines but none by
his wife, selects a younger brother of his own, or even adopts the son
of some relative, to succeed him in the family honours. The family
line is considered to be thus more purely preserved. The law of
succession is, however, extremely lax. Excellent personal merits will
sometimes secure to the left-handed son the inheritance of his
ancestors; and it often occurs that the son of a concubine, who is
debarred from succeeding to his own father, is adopted as the heir of
a relation or friend of even higher rank. When the wife of a noble has
a daughter but no son, the practice is to adopt a youth of suitable
family and age, who marries the girl and inherits as a son.
The principle of adoption is universal among all classes, from the
Emperor down to his meanest subject; nor is the family line considered
to have been broken because an adopted son has succeeded to the
estates. Indeed, should a noble die without heir male, either begotten
or adopted, his lands are forfeited to the State. It is a matter of
care that the person adopted should be himself sprung from a stock of
rank suited to that of the family into which he is to be received.
Sixteen and upwards being considered the marriageable age for a man,
it is not usual for persons below that age to adopt an heir; yet an
infant at the point of death may adopt a person older than himself,
that the family line may not become extinct.
An account of the marriage ceremony will be found in the Appendix upon
the subject.
In the olden time, in the island of Shikoku[40] there lived one
Funakoshi Jiuyémon, a brave Samurai and accomplished man, who was in
great favour with the prince, his master. One day, at a drinking-bout,
a quarrel sprung up between him and a brother-officer, which resulted
in a duel upon the spot, in which Jiuyémon killed his adversary. When
Jiuyémon awoke to a sense of what he had done, he was struck with
remorse, and he thought to disembowel himself; but, receiving a
private summons from his lord, he went to the castle, and the prince
said to him--
"So it seems that you have been getting drunk and quarrelling, and
that you have killed one of your friends; and now I suppose you will
have determined to perform _hara-kiri_. It is a great pity, and in the
face of the laws I can do nothing for you openly. Still, if you will
escape and fly from this part of the country for a while, in two
years' time the affair will have blown over, and I will allow you to
return."
[Footnote 40: _Shikoku_, one of the southern islands separated from
the chief island of Japan by the beautiful "Inland Sea;" it is called
_Shikoku_, or the "Four Provinces," because it is divided into the
four provinces, _Awa, Sanuki, Iyo,_ and _Tosa_.]
And with these words the prince presented him with a fine sword, made
by Sukésada,[41] and a hundred ounces of silver, and, having bade him
farewell, entered his private apartments; and Jiuyémon, prostrating
himself, wept tears of gratitude; then, taking the sword and the
money, he went home and prepared to fly from the province, and
secretly took leave of his relations, each of whom made him some
parting present. These gifts, together with his own money, and what he
had received from the prince, made up a sum of two hundred and fifty
ounces of silver, with which and his Sukésada sword he escaped under
cover of darkness, and went to a sea-port called Marugamé, in the
province of Sanuki, where he proposed to wait for an opportunity of
setting sail for Osaka. As ill luck would have it, the wind being
contrary, he had to remain three days idle; but at last the wind
changed; so he went down to the beach, thinking that he should
certainly find a junk about to sail; and as he was looking about him,
a sailor came up, and said--
"If your honour is minded to take a trip to Osaka, my ship is bound
thither, and I should be glad to take you with me as passenger."
"That's exactly what I wanted. I will gladly take a passage," replied
Jiuyémon, who was delighted at the chance.
[Footnote 41: _Sukésada_, a famous family of swordsmiths, belonging to
the Bizen clan. The Bizen men are notoriously good armourers, and
their blades fetch high prices. The sword of Jiuyémon is said to have
been made by one of the Sukésada who lived about 290 years ago.]
"Well, then, we must set sail at once, so please come on board
without delay."
So Jiuyémon went with him and embarked; and as they left the harbour
and struck into the open sea, the moon was just rising above the
eastern hills, illumining the dark night like a noonday sun; and
Jiuyémon, taking his place in the bows of the ship, stood wrapt in
contemplation of the beauty of the scene.
Now it happened that the captain of the ship, whose name was Akagôshi
Kuroyémon, was a fierce pirate who, attracted by Jiuyémon's well-to-do
appearance, had determined to decoy him on board, that he might murder
and rob him; and while Jiuyémon was looking at the moon, the pirate
and his companions were collected in the stern of the ship, taking
counsel together in whispers as to how they might slay him. He, on the
other hand, having for some time past fancied their conduct somewhat
strange, bethought him that it was not prudent to lay aside his sword,
so he went towards the place where he had been sitting, and had left
his weapon lying, to fetch it, when he was stopped by three of the
pirates, who blocked up the gangway, saying--
"Stop, Sir Samurai! Unluckily for you, this ship in which you have
taken a passage belongs to the pirate Akagôshi Kuroyémon. Come, sir!
whatever money you may chance to have about you is our prize."
When Jiuyémon heard this he was greatly startled at first, but soon
recovered himself, and being an expert wrestler, kicked over two of
the pirates, and made for his sword; but in the meanwhile Shichirohei,
the younger brother of the pirate captain, had drawn the sword, and
brought it towards him, saying--
"If you want your sword, here it is!" and with that he cut at him; but
Jiuyémon avoided the blow, and closing with the ruffian, got back his
sword. Ten of the pirates then attacked him with spear and sword; but
he, putting his back against the bows of the ship, showed such good
fight that he killed three of his assailants, and the others stood
off, not daring to approach him. Then the pirate captain, Akagôshi
Kuroyémon, who had been watching the fighting from the stern, seeing
that his men stood no chance against Jiuyémon's dexterity, and that he
was only losing them to no purpose, thought to shoot him with a
matchlock. Even Jiuyémon, brave as he was, lost heart when he saw the
captain's gun pointed at him, and tried to jump into the sea; but one
of the pirates made a dash at him with a boat-hook, and caught him by
the sleeve; then Jiuyémon, in despair, took the fine Sukésada sword
which he had received from his prince, and throwing it at his captor,
pierced him through the breast so that he fell dead, and himself
plunging into the sea swam for his life. The pirate captain shot at
him and missed him, and the rest of the crew made every endeavour to
seize him with their boat-hooks, that they might avenge the death of
their mates; but it was all in vain, and Jiuyémon, having shaken off
his clothes that he might swim the better, made good his escape. So
the pirates threw the bodies of their dead comrades into the sea, and
the captain was partly consoled for their loss by the possession of
the Sukésada sword with which one of them had been transfixed.
As soon as Jiuyémon jumped over the ship's side, being a good swimmer,
he took a long dive, which carried him well out of danger, and struck
out vigorously; and although he was tired and distressed by his
exertions, he braced himself up to greater energy, and faced the waves
boldly. At last, in the far distance, to his great joy, he spied a
light, for which he made, and found that it was a ship carrying
lanterns marked with the badge of the governor of Osaka; so he hailed
her, saying--
"I have fallen into great trouble among pirates: pray rescue me."
"Who and what are you?" shouted an officer, some forty years of age.
"My name is Funakoshi Jiuyémon, and I have unwittingly fallen in with
pirates this night. I have escaped so far: I pray you save me, lest I
die."
"Hold on to this, and come up," replied the other, holding out the
butt end of a spear to him, which he caught hold of and clambered up
the ship's side. When the officer saw before him a handsome gentleman,
naked all but his loincloth, and with his hair all in disorder, he
called to his servants to bring some of his own clothes, and, having
dressed him in them, said--
"What clan do you belong to, sir?"
"Sir, I am a Rônin, and was on my way to Osaka; but the sailors of the
ship on which I had embarked were pirates;" and so he told the whole
story of the fight and of his escape.
"Well done, sir!" replied the other, astonished at his prowess. "My
name is Kajiki Tozayémon, at your service. I am an officer attached to
the governor of Osaka. Pray, have you any friends in that city?"
"No, sir, I have no friends there; but as in two years I shall be able
to return to my own country, and re-enter my lord's service, I thought
during that time to engage in trade and live as a common wardsman."
"Indeed, that's a poor prospect! However, if you will allow me, I will
do all that is in my power to assist you. Pray excuse the liberty I am
taking in making such a proposal."
Jiuyémon warmly thanked Kajiki Tozayémon for his kindness; and so they
reached Osaka without further adventures.
Jiuyémon, who had secreted in his girdle the two hundred and fifty
ounces which he had brought with him from home, bought a small house,
and started in trade as a vendor of perfumes, tooth-powder, combs, and
other toilet articles; and Kajiki Tozayémon, who treated him with
great kindness, and rendered him many services, prompted him, as he
was a single man, to take to himself a wife. Acting upon this advice,
he married a singing-girl, called O Hiyaku.[42]
[Footnote 42: The O before women's names signifies "_Imperial_," and
is simply an honorific.]
Now this O Hiyaku, although at first she seemed very affectionately
disposed towards Jiuyémon, had been, during the time that she was a
singer, a woman of bad and profligate character; and at this time
there was in Osaka a certain wrestler, named Takaségawa Kurobei, a
very handsome man, with whom O Hiyaku fell desperately in love; so
that at last, being by nature a passionate woman, she became
unfaithful to Jiuyémon. The latter, little suspecting that anything
was amiss, was in the habit of spending his evenings at the house of
his patron Kajiki Tozayémon, whose son, a youth of eighteen, named
Tônoshin, conceived a great friendship for Jiuyémon, and used
constantly to invite him to play a game at checkers; and it was on
these occasions that O Hiyaku, profiting by her husband's absence,
used to arrange her meetings with the wrestler Takaségawa.
One evening, when Jiuyémon, as was his wont, had gone out to play at
checkers with Kajiki Tônoshin, O Hiyaku took advantage of the occasion
to go and fetch the wrestler, and invite him to a little feast; and as
they were enjoying themselves over their wine, O Hiyaku said to him--
"Ah! Master Takaségawa, how wonderfully chance favours us! and how
pleasant these stolen interviews are! How much nicer still it would
be if we could only be married. But, as long as Jiuyémon is in the
way, it is impossible; and that is my one cause of distress."
"It's no use being in such a hurry. If you only have patience, we
shall be able to marry, sure enough. What you have got to look out for
now is, that Jiuyémon does not find out what we are about. I suppose
there is no chance of his coming home to-night, is there?"
"Oh dear, no! You need not be afraid. He is gone to Kajiki's house to
play checkers; so he is sure to spend the night there."
And so the guilty couple went on gossiping, with their minds at ease,
until at last they dropped off asleep.
In the meanwhile Jiuyémon, in the middle of his game at checkers, was
seized with a sudden pain in his stomach, and said to Kajiki Tônoshin,
"Young sir, I feel an unaccountable pain in my stomach. I think I had
better go home, before it gets worse."
"That is a bad job. Wait a little, and I will give you some physic;
but, at any rate, you had better spend the night here."
"Many thanks for your kindness," replied Jiuyémon; "but I had rather
go home."
So he took his leave, and went off to his own house, bearing the pain
as best he might. When he arrived in front of his own door, he tried
to open it; but the lock was fastened, and he could not get in, so he
rapped violently at the shutters to try and awaken his wife. When O
Hiyaku heard the noise, she woke with a start, and roused the
wrestler, saying to him in a whisper--
"Get up! get up! Jiuyémon has come back. You must hide as fast as
possible."
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said the wrestler, in a great fright; "here's a
pretty mess! Where on earth shall I hide myself?" and he stumbled
about in every direction looking for a hiding-place, but found none.
Jiuyémon, seeing that his wife did not come to open the door, got
impatient at last, and forced it open by unfixing the sliding shutter
and, entering the house, found himself face to face with his wife and
her lover, who were both in such confusion that they did not know what
to do. Jiuyémon, however, took no notice of them, but lit his pipe and
sat smoking and watching them in silence. At last the wrestler,
Takaségawa, broke the silence by saying--
"I thought, sir, that I should be sure to have the pleasure of finding
you at home this evening, so I came out to call upon you. When I got
here, the Lady O Hiyaku was so kind as to offer me some wine; and I
drank a little more than was good for me, so that it got into my head,
and I fell asleep. I must really apologize for having taken such a
liberty in your absence; but, indeed, although appearances are against
us, there has been nothing wrong."
"Certainly," said O Hiyaku, coming to her lover's support, "Master
Takaségawa is not at all to blame. It was I who invited him to drink
wine; so I hope you will excuse him."
Jiuyémon sat pondering the matter over in his mind for a moment, and
then said to the wrestler, "You say that you are innocent; but, of
course, that is a lie. It's no use trying to conceal your fault.
However, next year I shall, in all probability, return to my own
country, and then you may take O Hiyaku and do what you will with her:
far be it from me to care what becomes of a woman with such a stinking
heart."
When the wrestler and O Hiyaku heard Jiuyémon say this quite quietly,
they could not speak, but held their peace for very shame.
"Here, you Takaségawa," pursued he; "you may stop here to-night, if
you like it, and go home to-morrow."
"Thank you, sir," replied the wrestler, "I am much obliged to you; but
the fact is, that I have some pressing business in another part of the
town, so, with your permission, I will take my leave;" and so he went
out, covered with confusion.
As for the faithless wife, O Hiyaku, she was in great agitation,
expecting to be severely reprimanded at least; but Jiuyémon took no
notice of her, and showed no anger; only from that day forth, although
she remained in his house as his wife, he separated himself from her
entirely.
Matters went on in this way for some time, until at last, one fine
day, O Hiyaku, looking out of doors, saw the wrestler Takaségawa
passing in the street, so she called out to him--
"Dear me, Master Takaségawa, can that be you! What a long time it is
since we have met! Pray come in, and have a chat."
"Thank you, I am much obliged to you; but as I do not like the sort of
scene we had the other day, I think I had rather not accept your
invitation."
"Pray do not talk in such a cowardly manner. Next year, when Jiuyémon
goes back to his own country, he is sure to give me this house, and
then you and I can marry and live as happily as possible."
"I don't like being in too great a hurry to accept fair offers."[43]
[Footnote 43: The original is a proverbial expression like "Timeo
Danaos et dona ferentes."]
"Nonsense! There's no need for showing such delicacy about accepting
what is given you."
And as she spoke, she caught the wrestler by the hand and led him into
the house. After they had talked together for some time, she said:--
"Listen to me, Master Takaségawa. I have been thinking over all this
for some time, and I see no help for it but to kill Jiuyémon and make
an end of him."
"What do you want to do that for?"
"As long as he is alive, we cannot be married. What I propose is that
you should buy some poison, and I will put it secretly into his food.
When he is dead, we can be happy to our hearts' content."
At first Takaségawa was startled and bewildered by the audacity of
their scheme; but forgetting the gratitude which he owed to Jiuyémon
for sparing his life on the previous occasion, he replied:--
"Well, I think it can be managed. I have a friend who is a physician,
so I will get him to compound some poison for me, and will send it to
you. You must look out for a moment when your husband is not on his
guard, and get him to take it."
Having agreed upon this, Takaségawa went away, and, having employed a
physician to make up the poison, sent it to O Hiyaku in a letter,
suggesting that the poison should be mixed up with a sort of macaroni,
of which Jiuyémon was very fond. Having read the letter, she put it
carefully away in a drawer of her cupboard, and waited until Jiuyémon
should express a wish to eat some macaroni.
One day, towards the time of the New Year, when O Hiyaku had gone out
to a party with a few of her friends, it happened that Jiuyémon, being
alone in the house, was in want of some little thing, and, failing to
find it anywhere, at last bethought himself to look for it in O
Hiyaku's cupboard; and as he was searching amongst the odds and ends
which it contained, he came upon the fatal letter. When he read the
scheme for putting poison in his macaroni, he was taken aback, and
said to himself, "When I caught those two beasts in their wickedness I
spared them, because their blood would have defiled my sword; and now
they are not even grateful for my mercy. Their crime is beyond all
power of language to express, and I will kill them together."
So he put back the letter in its place, and waited for his wife to
come home. So soon as she made her appearance he said--
"You have come home early, O Hiyaku. I feel very dull and lonely this
evening; let us have a little wine."
And as he spoke without any semblance of anger, it never entered O
Hiyaku's mind that he had seen the letter; so she went about her
household duties with a quiet mind.
The following evening, as Jiuyémon was sitting in his shop casting up
his accounts, with his counting-board[44] in his hand, Takaségawa
passed by, and Jiuyémon called out to him, saying:--
"Well met, Takaségawa! I was just thinking of drinking a cup of wine
to-night; but I have no one to keep me company, and it is dull work
drinking alone. Pray come in, and drink a bout with me."
[Footnote 44: The _abacus_, or counting-board, is the means of
calculation in use throughout the Continent from St. Petersburg to
Peking, in Corea, Japan, and the Liukiu Islands.]
"Thank you, sir, I shall have much pleasure," replied the wrestler,
who little expected what the other was aiming at; and so he went in,
and they began to drink and feast.
"It's very cold to-night," said Jiuyémon, after a while; "suppose we
warm up a little macaroni, and eat it nice and hot. Perhaps, however,
you do not like it?"
"Indeed, I am very fond of it, on the contrary."
"That is well. O Hiyaku, please go and buy a little for us."
"Directly," replied his wife, who hurried off to buy the paste,
delighted at the opportunity for carrying out her murderous design
upon her husband. As soon she had prepared it, she poured it into
bowls and set it before the two men; but into her husband's bowl only
she put poison. Jiuyémon, who well knew what she had done, did not eat
the mess at once, but remained talking about this, that, and the
other; and the wrestler, out of politeness, was obliged to wait also.
All of a sudden, Jiuyémon cried out--
"Dear me! whilst we have been gossiping, the macaroni has been getting
cold. Let us put it all together and warm it up again. As no one has
put his lips to his bowl yet, it will all be clean; so none need be
wasted." And with these words he took the macaroni that was in the
three bowls, and, pouring it altogether into an iron pot, boiled it up
again. This time Jiuyémon served out the food himself, and, setting it
before his wife and the wrestler, said--
"There! make haste and eat it up before it gets cold."
Jiuyémon, of course, did not eat any of the mess; and the would-be
murderers, knowing that sufficient poison had been originally put into
Jiuyémon's bowl to kill them all three, and that now the macaroni,
having been well mixed up, would all be poisoned, were quite taken
aback, and did not know what to do.
"Come! make haste, or it will be quite cold. You said you liked it, so
I sent to buy it on purpose. O Hiyaku! come and make a hearty meal. I
will eat some presently."
At this the pair looked very foolish, and knew not what to answer; at
last the wrestler got up and said--
"I do not feel quite well. I must beg to take my leave; and, if you
will allow me, I will come and accept your hospitality to-morrow
instead."
"Dear me! I am sorry to hear you are not well. However, O Hiyaku,
there will be all the more macaroni for you."
As for O Hiyaku, she put a bold face upon the matter, and replied that
she had supped already, and had no appetite for any more.
Then Jiuyémon, looking at them both with a scornful smile, said--
"It seems that you, neither of you, care to eat this macaroni;
however, as you, Takaségawa, are unwell, I will give you some
excellent medicine;" and going to the cupboard, he drew out the
letter, and laid it before the wrestler. When O Hiyaku and the
wrestler saw that their wicked schemes had been brought to light, they
were struck dumb with shame.
Takaségawa, seeing that denial was useless, drew his dirk and cut at
Jiuyémon; but he, being nimble and quick, dived under the wrestler's
arm, and seizing his right hand from behind, tightened his grasp upon
it until it became numbed, and the dirk fell to the ground; for,
powerful man as the wrestler was, he was no match for Jiuyémon, who
held him in so fast a grip that he could not move. Then Jiuyémon took
the dirk which had fallen to the ground, and said:--
"Oh! I thought that you, being a wrestler, would at least be a strong
man, and that there would be some pleasure in fighting you; but I see
that you are but a poor feckless creature, after all. It would have
defiled my sword to have killed such an ungrateful hound with it; but
luckily here is your own dirk, and I will slay you with that."
Takaségawa struggled to escape, but in vain; and O Hiyaku, seizing a
large kitchen knife, attacked Jiuyémon; but he, furious, kicked her in
the loins so violently that she fell powerless, then brandishing the
dirk, he cleft the wrestler from the shoulder down to the nipple of
his breast, and the big man fell in his agony. O Hiyaku, seeing this,
tried to fly; but Jiuyémon, seizing her by the hair of the head,
stabbed her in the bosom, and, placing her by her lover's side, gave
her the death-blow.
On the following day, he sent in a report of what he had done to the
governor of Osaka, and buried the corpses; and from that time forth he
remained a single man, and pursued his trade as a seller of perfumery
and such-like wares; and his leisure hours he continued to spend as
before, at the house of his patron, Kajiki Tozayémon.
One day, when Jiuyémon went to call upon Kajiki Tozayémon, he was told
by the servant-maid, who met him at the door, that her master was out,
but that her young master, Tônoshin, was at home; so, saying that he
would go in and pay his respects to the young gentleman, he entered
the house; and as he suddenly pushed open the sliding-door of the room
in which Tônoshin was sitting, the latter gave a great start, and his
face turned pale and ghastly.
"How now, young sir!" said Jiuyémon, laughing at him, "surely you are
not such a coward as to be afraid because the sliding-doors are
opened? That is not the way in which a brave Samurai should behave."
"Really I am quite ashamed of myself," replied the other, blushing at
the reproof; "but the fact is that I had some reason for being
startled. Listen to me, Sir Jiuyémon, and I will tell you all about
it. To-day, when I went to the academy to study, there were a great
number of my fellow-students gathered together, and one of them said
that a ruinous old shrine, about two miles and a half to the east of
this place, was the nightly resort of all sorts of hobgoblins, who
have been playing pranks and bewitching the people for some time
past; and he proposed that we should all draw lots, and that the one
upon whom the lot fell should go to-night and exorcise those evil
beings; and further that, as a proof of his having gone, he should
write his name upon a pillar in the shrine. All the rest agreed that
this would be very good sport; so I, not liking to appear a coward,
consented to take my chance with the rest; and, as ill luck would
have it, the lot fell upon me. I was thinking over this as you came
in, and so it was that when you suddenly opened the door, I could not
help giving a start."
"If you only think for a moment," said Jiuyémon, "you will see that
there is nothing to fear. How can beasts[45] and hobgoblins exercise
any power over men? However, do not let the matter trouble you. I will
go in your place to-night, and see if I cannot get the better of these
goblins, if any there be, having done which, I will write your name
upon the pillar, so that everybody may think that you have been
there."
[Footnote 45: Foxes, badgers, and cats. See the stories respecting
their tricks.]
"Oh! thank you: that will indeed be a service. You can dress yourself
up in my clothes, and nobody will be the wiser. I shall be truly
grateful to you."
So Jiuyémon having gladly undertaken the job, as soon as the night set
in made his preparations, and went to the place indicated--an
uncanny-looking, tumble-down, lonely old shrine, all overgrown with
moss and rank vegetation. However, Jiuyémon, who was afraid of
nothing, cared little for the appearance of the place, and having made
himself as comfortable as he could in so dreary a spot, sat down on
the floor, lit his pipe, and kept a sharp look-out for the goblins. He
had not been waiting long before he saw a movement among the bushes;
and presently he was surrounded by a host of elfish-looking creatures,
of all shapes and kinds, who came and made hideous faces at him.
Jiuyémon quietly knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and then, jumping
up, kicked over first one and then another of the elves, until several
of them lay sprawling in the grass; and the rest made off, greatly
astonished at this unexpected reception. When Jiuyémon took his
lantern and examined the fallen goblins attentively, he saw that they
were all Tônoshin's fellow-students, who had painted their faces, and
made themselves hideous, to frighten their companion, whom they knew
to be a coward: all they got for their pains, however, was a good
kicking from Jiuyémon, who left them groaning over their sore bones,
and went home chuckling to himself at the result of the adventure.
The fame of this exploit soon became noised about Osaka, so that all
men praised Jiuyémon's courage; and shortly after this he was elected
chief of the Otokodaté,[46] or friendly society of the wardsmen, and
busied himself no longer with his trade, but lived on the
contributions of his numerous apprentices.
[Footnote 46: See the Introduction to the Story of Chôbei of
Bandzuin.]
Now Kajiki Tônoshin was in love with a singing girl named Kashiku,
upon whom he was in the habit of spending a great deal of money. She,
however, cared nothing for him, for she had a sweetheart named
Hichirobei, whom she used to contrive to meet secretly, although, in
order to support her parents, she was forced to become the mistress of
Tônoshin. One evening, when the latter was on guard at the office of
his chief, the Governor of Osaka, Kashiku sent word privately to
Hichirobei, summoning him to go to her house, as the coast would be
clear.
While the two were making merry over a little feast, Tônoshin, who had
persuaded a friend to take his duty for him on the plea of urgent
business, knocked at the door, and Kashiku, in a great fright, hid her
lover in a long clothes-box, and went to let in Tônoshin, who, on
entering the room and seeing the litter of the supper lying about,
looked more closely, and perceived a man's sandals, on which, by the
light of a candle, he saw the figure seven.[47] Tônoshin had heard
some ugly reports of Kashiku's proceedings with this man Hichirobei,
and when he saw this proof before his eyes he grew very angry; but he
suppressed his feelings, and, pointing to the wine-cups and bowls,
said:--
"Whom have you been feasting with to-night?"
"Oh!" replied Kashiku, who, notwithstanding her distress, was obliged
to invent an answer, "I felt so dull all alone here, that I asked an
old woman from next door to come in and drink a cup of wine with me,
and have a chat."
[Footnote 47: _Hichi_, the first half of _Hichirobei_, signifies
seven.]
All this while Tônoshin was looking for the hidden lover; but, as he
could not see him, he made up his mind that Kashiku must have let him
out by the back door; so he secreted one of the sandals in his sleeve
as evidence, and, without seeming to suspect anything, said:--
"Well, I shall be very busy this evening, so I must go home."
"Oh! won't you stay a little while? It is very dull here, when I am
all alone without you. Pray stop and keep me company."
But Tônoshin made no reply, and went home. Then Kashiku saw that one
of the sandals was missing, and felt certain that he must have carried
it off as proof; so she went in great trouble to open the lid of the
box, and let out Hichirobei. When the two lovers talked over the
matter, they agreed that, as they both were really in love, let
Tônoshin kill them if he would, they would gladly die together: they
would enjoy the present; let the future take care of itself.
The following morning Kashiku sent a messenger to Tônoshin to implore
his pardon; and he, being infatuated by the girl's charms, forgave
her, and sent a present of thirty ounces of silver to her lover,
Hichirobei, on the condition that he was never to see her again; but,
in spite of this, Kashiku and Hichirobei still continued their secret
meetings.
It happened that Hichirobei, who was a gambler by profession, had an
elder brother called Chôbei, who kept a wine-shop in the Ajikawa
Street, at Osaka; so Tônoshin thought that he could not do better than
depute Jiuyémon to go and seek out this man Chôbei, and urge him to
persuade his younger brother to give up his relations with Kashiku;
acting upon this resolution, he went to call upon Jiuyémon, and said
to him--
"Sir Jiuyémon, I have a favour to ask of you in connection with that
girl Kashiku, whom you know all about. You are aware that I paid
thirty ounces of silver to her lover Hichirobei to induce him to give
up going to her house; but, in spite of this, I cannot help suspecting
that they still meet one another. It seems that this Hichirobei has an
elder brother--one Chôbei; now, if you would go to this man and tell
him to reprove his brother for his conduct, you would be doing me a
great service. You have so often stood my friend, that I venture to
pray you to oblige me in this matter, although I feel that I am
putting you to great inconvenience."
Jiuyémon, out of gratitude for the kindness which he had received at
the hands of Kajiki Tozayémon, was always willing to serve Tônoshin;
so he went at once to find out Chôbei, and said to him--
"My name, sir, is Jiuyémon, at your service; and I have come to beg
your assistance in a matter of some delicacy."
"What can I do to oblige you, sir?" replied Chôbei, who felt bound to
be more than usually civil, as his visitor was the chief of the
Otokodaté.
"It is a small matter, sir," said Jiuyémon. "Your younger brother
Hichirobei is intimate with a woman named Kashiku, whom he meets in
secret. Now, this Kashiku is the mistress of the son of a gentleman to
whom I am under great obligation: he bought her of her parents for a
large sum of money, and, besides this, he paid your brother thirty
ounces of silver some time since, on condition of his separating
himself from the girl; in spite of this, it appears that your brother
continues to see her, and I have come to beg that you will remonstrate
with your brother on his conduct, and make him give her up."
"That I certainly will. Pray do not be uneasy; I will soon find means
to put a stop to my brother's bad behaviour."
And so they went on talking of one thing and another, until Jiuyémon,
whose eyes had been wandering about the room, spied out a very long
dirk lying on a cupboard, and all at once it occurred to him that this
was the very sword which had been a parting gift to him from his lord:
the hilt, the mountings, and the tip of the scabbard were all the
same, only the blade had been shortened and made into a long dirk.
Then he looked more attentively at Chôbei's features, and saw that he
was no other than Akagôshi Kuroyémon, the pirate chief. Two years had
passed by, but he could not forget that face.
Jiuyémon would have liked to have arrested him at once; but thinking
that it would be a pity to give so vile a robber a chance of escape,
he constrained himself, and, taking his leave, went straightway and
reported the matter to the Governor of Osaka. When the officers of
justice heard of the prey that awaited them, they made their
preparations forthwith. Three men of the secret police went to
Chôbei's wine-shop, and, having called for wine, pretended to get up a
drunken brawl; and as Chôbei went up to them and tried to pacify them,
one of the policemen seized hold of him, and another tried to pinion
him. It at once flashed across Chôbei's mind that his old misdeeds had
come to light at last, so with a desperate effort he shook off the two
policemen and knocked them down, and, rushing into the inner room,
seized the famous Sukésada sword and sprang upstairs. The three
policemen, never thinking that he could escape, mounted the stairs
close after him; but Chôbei with a terrible cut cleft the front man's
head in sunder, and the other two fell back appalled at their
comrade's fate. Then Chôbei climbed on to the roof, and, looking out,
perceived that the house was surrounded on all sides by armed men.
Seeing this, he made up his mind that his last moment was come, but,
at any rate, he determined to sell his life dearly, and to die
fighting; so he stood up bravely, when one of the officers, coming up
from the roof of a neighbouring house, attacked him with a spear; and
at the same time several other soldiers clambered up. Chôbei, seeing
that he was overmatched, jumped down, and before the soldiers below
had recovered from their surprise he had dashed through their ranks,
laying about him right and left, and cutting down three men. At top
speed he fled, with his pursuers close behind him; and, seeing the
broad river ahead of him, jumped into a small boat that lay moored
there, of which the boatmen, frightened at the sight of his bloody
sword, left him in undisputed possession. Chôbei pushed off, and
sculled vigorously into the middle of the river; and the
officers--there being no other boat near--were for a moment baffled.
One of them, however, rushing down the river bank, hid himself on a
bridge, armed with. a spear, and lay in wait for Chôbei to pass in his
boat; but when the little boat came up, he missed his aim, and only
scratched Chôbei's elbow; and he, seizing the spear, dragged down his
adversary into the river, and killed him as he was struggling in the
water; then, sculling for his life, he gradually drew near to the sea.
The other officers in the mean time had secured ten boats, and, having
come up with Chôbei, surrounded him; but he, having formerly been a
pirate, was far better skilled in the management of a boat than his
pursuers, and had no great difficulty in eluding them; so at last he
pushed out to sea, to the great annoyance of the officers, who
followed him closely.
Then Jiuyémon, who had come up, said to one of the officers on the
shore--
"Have you caught him yet?"
"No; the fellow is so brave and so cunning that our men can do nothing
with him."
"He's a determined ruffian, certainly. However, as the fellow has got
my sword, I mean to get it back by fair means or foul: will you allow
me to undertake the job of seizing him?"
"Well, you may try; and you will have officers to assist you, if you
are in peril."
Jiuyémon, having received this permission, stripped off his clothes
and jumped into the sea, carrying with him a policeman's mace, to the
great astonishment of all the bystanders. When he got near Chôbei's
boat, he dived and came up alongside, without the pirate perceiving
him until he had clambered into the boat. Chôbei had the good Sukésada
sword, and Jiuyémon was armed with nothing but a mace; but Chôbei, on
the other hand, was exhausted with his previous exertions, and was
taken by surprise at a moment when he was thinking of nothing but how
he should scull away from the pursuing boats; so it was not long
before Jiuyémon mastered and secured him.
For this feat, besides recovering his Sukésada sword, Jiuyémon
received many rewards and great praise from the Governor of Osaka. But
the pirate Chôbei was cast into prison.
Hichirobei, when he heard of his brother's capture, was away from
home; but seeing that he too would be sought for, he determined to
escape to Yedo at once, and travelled along the Tôkaidô, the great
highroad, as far as Kuana. But the secret police had got wind of his
movements, and one of them was at his heels disguised as a beggar, and
waiting for an opportunity to seize him.
Hichirobei in the meanwhile was congratulating himself on his escape;
and, little suspecting that he would be in danger so far away from
Osaka, he went to a house of pleasure, intending to divert himself at
his ease. The policeman, seeing this, went to the master of the house
and said--
"The guest who has just come in is a notorious thief, and I am on his
track, waiting to arrest him. Do you watch for the moment when he
falls asleep, and let me know. Should he escape, the blame will fall
upon you."
The master of the house, who was greatly taken aback, consented of
course; so he told the woman of the house to hide Hichirobei's dirk,
and as soon as the latter, wearied with his journey, had fallen
asleep, he reported it to the policeman, who went upstairs, and having
bound Hichirobei as he lay wrapped up in his quilt, led him back to
Osaka to be imprisoned with his brother.
When Kashiku became aware of her lover's arrest, she felt certain that
it was the handiwork of Jiuyémon; so she determined to kill him, were
it only that she might die with Hichirobei. So hiding a kitchen knife
in the bosom of her dress, she went at midnight to Jiuyémon's house,
and looked all round to see if there were no hole or cranny by which
she might slip in unobserved; but every door was carefully closed, so
she was obliged to knock at the door and feign an excuse.
"Let me in! let me in! I am a servant-maid in the house of Kajiki
Tozayémon, and am charged with a letter on most pressing business to
Sir Jiuyémon."
Hearing this, one of Jiuyémon's servants, thinking her tale was true,
rose and opened the door; and Kashiku, stabbing him in the face, ran
past him into the house. Inside she met another apprentice, who had
got up, aroused by the noise; him too she stabbed in the belly, but as
he fell he cried out to Jiuyémon, saying:--
"Father, father![48] take care! Some murderous villain has broken into
the house."
[Footnote 48: The apprentice addresses his patron as "father."]
And Kashiku, desperate, stopped his further utterance by cutting his
throat. Jiuyémon, hearing his apprentice cry out, jumped up, and,
lighting his night-lamp, looked about him in the half-gloom, and saw
Kashiku with the bloody knife, hunting for him that she might kill
him. Springing upon her before she saw him, he clutched her right
hand, and, having secured her, bound her with cords so that she could
not move. As soon as he had recovered from his surprise, he looked
about him, and searched the house, when, to his horror, he found one
of his apprentices dead, and the other lying bleeding from a frightful
gash across the face. With the first dawn of day, he reported the
affair to the proper authorities, and gave Kashiku in custody. So,
after due examination, the two pirate brothers and the girl Kashiku
were executed, and their heads were exposed together.[49]
[Footnote 49: The exposure of the head, called _Gokumon_, is a
disgraceful addition to the punishment of beheading. A document,
placed on the execution-ground, sets forth the crime which has called
forth the punishment.]
Now the fame of all the valiant deeds of Jiuyémon having reached his
own country, his lord ordered that he should be pardoned for his
former offence, and return to his allegiance; so, after thanking
Kajiki Tozayémon for the manifold favours which he had received at his
hands, he went home, and became a Samurai as before.
* * * * *
The fat wrestlers of Japan, whose heavy paunches and unwieldy, puffy
limbs, however much they may be admired by their own country people,
form a striking contrast to our Western notions of training, have
attracted some attention from travellers; and those who are interested
in athletic sports may care to learn something about them.
The first historical record of wrestling occurs in the sixth year of
the Emperor Suinin (24 B.C.), when one Taima no Kéhaya, a noble of
great stature and strength, boasting that there was not his match
under heaven, begged the Emperor that his strength might be put to the
test. The Emperor accordingly caused the challenge to be proclaimed;
and one Nomi no Shikuné answered it, and having wrestled with Kéhaya,
kicked him in the ribs and broke his bones, so that he died. After
this Shikuné was promoted to high office, and became further famous in
Japanese history as having substituted earthen images for the living
men who, before his time, used to be buried with the coffin of the
Mikado.
In the year A.D. 858 the throne of Japan was wrestled for. The Emperor
Buntoku had two sons, called Koréshito and Korétaka, both of whom
aspired to the throne. Their claims were decided in a wrestling match,
in which one Yoshirô was the champion of Koréshito, and Natora the
champion of Korétaka. Natora having been defeated, Koréshito ascended
his father's throne under the style of Seiwa.
In the eighth century, when Nara was the capital of Japan, the Emperor
Shômu instituted wrestling as part of the ceremonies of the autumn
festival of the Five Grains, or Harvest Home; and as the year proved a
fruitful one, the custom was continued as auspicious. The strong men
of the various provinces were collected, and one Kiyobayashi was
proclaimed the champion of Japan. Many a brave and stout man tried a
throw with him, but none could master him. Rules of the ring were now
drawn up; and in order to prevent disputes, Kiyobayashi was appointed
by the Emperor to be the judge of wrestling-matches, and was
presented, as a badge of his office, with a fan, upon which were
inscribed the words the "Prince of Lions."
The wrestlers were divided into wrestlers of the eastern and of the
western provinces, Omi being taken as the centre province. The eastern
wrestlers wore in their hair the badge of the hollyhock; the western
wrestlers took for their sign the gourd-flower. Hence the passage
leading up to the wrestling-stage was called the "Flower Path."
Forty-eight various falls were fixed upon as fair--twelve throws,
twelve lifts, twelve twists, and twelve throws over the back. All
other throws not included in these were foul, and it was the duty of
the umpire to see that no unlawful tricks were resorted to. It was
decided that the covered stage should be composed of sixteen
rice-bales, in the shape of one huge bale, supported by four pillars
at the four points of the compass, each pillar being painted a
different colour, thus, together with certain paper pendants, making
up five colours, to symbolize the Five Grains.
The civil wars by which the country was disturbed for a while put a
stop to the practice of wrestling; but when peace was restored it was
proposed to re-establish the athletic games, and the umpire
Kiyobayashi, the "Prince of Lions," was sought for; but he had died or
disappeared, and could not be found, and there was no umpire
forthcoming. The various provinces were searched for a man who might
fill his place, and one Yoshida Iyétsugu, a Rônin of the province of
Echizen, being reported to be well versed in the noble science, was
sent for to the capital, and proved to be a pupil of Kiyobayashi. The
Emperor, having approved him, ordered that the fan of the "Prince of
Lions" should be made over to him, and gave him the title of Bungo no
Kami, and commanded that his name in the ring should be Oi-Kazé, the
"Driving Wind." Further, as a sign that there should not be two
styles of wrestling, a second fan was given to him bearing the
inscription, "A single flavour is a beautiful custom." The right of
acting as umpire in wrestling-matches was vested in his family, that
the "Driving Wind" might for future generations preside over athletic
sports. In ancient days, the prizes for the three champion wrestlers
were a bow, a bowstring, and an arrow: these are still brought into
the ring, and, at the end of the bout, the successful competitors go
through a variety of antics with them.
To the champion wrestlers--to two or three men only in a
generation--the family of the "Driving Wind" awards the privilege of
wearing a rope-girdle. In the time of the Shogunate these champions
used to wrestle before the Shogun.
At the beginning of the 17th century (A.D. 1606) wrestling-matches, as
forming a regular part of a religious ceremony, were discontinued.
They are still held, however, at the shrines of Kamo, at Kiôto, and of
Kasuga, in Yamato. They are also held at Kamakura every year, and at
the shrines of the patron saints of the various provinces, in
imitation of the ancient customs.
In the year 1623 one Akashi Shiganosuké obtained leave from the
Government to hold public wrestling-matches in the streets of Yedo.
In the year 1644 was held the first wrestling-match for the purpose
of raising a collection for building a temple. This was done by
the priests of Kofukuji, in Yamashiro. In the year 1660 the same
expedient was resorted to in Yedo, and the custom of getting up
wrestling-matches for the benefit of temple funds holds good to this
day.
The following graphic description of a Japanese wrestling-match is
translated from the "Yedo Hanjôki":--
"From daybreak till eight in the morning a drum is beaten to announce
that there will be wrestling. The spectators rise early for the sight.
The adversaries having been settled, the wrestlers enter the ring from
the east and from the west. Tall stalwart men are they, with sinews
and bones of iron. Like the Gods Niô,[50] they stand with their arms
akimbo, and, facing one another, they crouch in their strength. The
umpire watches until the two men draw their breath at the same time,
and with his fan gives the signal. They jump up and close with one
another, like tigers springing on their prey, or dragons playing with
a ball. Each is bent on throwing the other by twisting or by lifting
him. It is no mere trial of brute strength; it is a tussle of skill
against skill. Each of the forty-eight throws is tried in turn. From
left to right, and from right to left, the umpire hovers about,
watching for the victory to declare itself. Some of the spectators
back the east, others back the west. The patrons of the ring are so
excited that they feel the strength tingling within them; they clench
their fists, and watch their men, without so much as blinking their
eyes. At last one man, east or west, gains the advantage, and the
umpire lifts his fan in token of victory. The plaudits of the
bystanders shake the neighbourhood, and they throw their clothes or
valuables into the ring, to be redeemed afterwards in money; nay, in
his excitement, a man will even tear off his neighbour's jacket and
throw it in."
[Footnote 50: The Japanese Gog and Magog.]
Before beginning their tussle, the wrestlers work up their strength by
stamping their feet and slapping their huge thighs. This custom is
derived from the following tale of the heroic or mythological age:--
After the seven ages of the heavenly gods came the reign of Tensho
Daijin, the Sun Goddess, and first Empress of Japan. Her younger
brother, Sosanöô no Mikoto, was a mighty and a brave hero, but
turbulent, and delighted in hunting the deer and the boar. After
killing these beasts, he would throw their dead bodies into the sacred
hall of his sister, and otherwise defile her dwelling. When he had
done this several times, his sister was angry, and hid in the cave
called the Rock Gate of Heaven; and when her face was not seen, there
was no difference between the night and the day. The heroes who served
her, mourning over this, went to seek her; but she placed a huge stone
in front of the cave, and would not come forth. The heroes, seeing
this, consulted together, and danced and played antics before the cave
to lure her out. Tempted by curiosity to see the sight, she opened the
gate a little and peeped out. Then the hero Tajikaraô, or "Great
Strength," clapping his hands and stamping his feet, with a great
effort grasped and threw down the stone door, and the heroes fetched
back the Sun Goddess.[51] As Tajikaraô is the patron god of Strength,
wrestlers, on entering the ring, still commemorate his deed by
clapping their hands and stamping their feet as a preparation for
putting forth their strength.
[Footnote 51: The author of the history called "Kokushi Riyaku"
explains this fable as being an account of the first eclipse.]
The great Daimios are in the habit of attaching wrestlers to their
persons, and assigning to them a yearly portion of rice. It is usual
for these athletes to take part in funeral or wedding processions, and
to escort the princes on journeys. The rich wardsmen or merchants give
money to their favourite wrestlers, and invite them to their houses to
drink wine and feast. Though low, vulgar fellows, they are allowed
something of the same familiarity which is accorded to prize-fighters,
jockeys, and the like, by their patrons in our own country.
The Japanese wrestlers appear to have no regular system of training;
they harden their naturally powerful limbs by much beating, and by
butting at wooden posts with their shoulders. Their diet is stronger
than that of the ordinary Japanese, who rarely touch meat.