The Ghost of Sakura

The misfortunes and death of the farmer Sôgorô, which, although the

preternatural appearances by which they are said to have been followed

may raise a smile, are matters of historic notoriety with which every

Japanese is familiar, furnish a forcible illustration of the relations

which exist between the tenant and the lord of the soil, and of the

boundless power for good or for evil exercised by the latter. It is

rather remarkable that in a country where the peasant--placed as he is

next to the soldier, and before the artisan and merchant, in the four

classes into which the people are divided--enjoys no small

consideration, and where agriculture is protected by law from the

inroads of wild vegetation, even to the lopping of overshadowing

branches and the cutting down of hedgerow timber, the lord of the

manor should be left practically without control in his dealings with

his people.

The land-tax, or rather the yearly rent paid by the tenant, is usually

assessed at forty per cent. of the produce; but there is no principle

clearly defining it, and frequently the landowner and the cultivator

divide the proceeds of the harvest in equal shapes. Rice land is

divided into three classes; and, according to these classes, it is

computed that one _tan_ (1,800 square feet) of the best land should

yield to the owner a revenue of five bags of rice per annum; each of

these bags holds four tô (a tô is rather less than half an imperial

bushel), and is worth at present (1868) three riyos, or about sixteen

shillings; land of the middle class should yield a revenue of three or

four bags. The rent is paid either in rice or in money, according to

the actual price of the grain, which varies considerably. It is due in

the eleventh month of the year, when the crops have all been gathered,

and their market value fixed.

The rent of land bearing crops other than rice, such as cotton, beans,

roots, and so forth, is payable in money during the twelfth month. The

choice of the nature of the crops to be grown appears to be left to

the tenant.

The Japanese landlord, when pressed by poverty, does not confine

himself to the raising of his legitimate rents: he can always enforce

from his needy tenantry the advancement of a year's rent, or the loan

of so much money as may be required to meet his immediate necessities.

Should the lord be just, the peasant is repaid by instalments, with

interest, extending over ten or twenty years. But it too often happens

that unjust and merciless lords do not repay such loans, but, on the

contrary, press for further advances. Then it is that the farmers,

dressed in their grass rain-coats, and carrying sickles and bamboo

poles in their hands, assemble before the gate of their lord's palace

at the capital, and represent their grievances, imploring the

intercession of the retainers, and even of the womankind who may

chance to go forth. Sometimes they pay for their temerity by their

lives; but, at any rate, they have the satisfaction of bringing shame

upon their persecutor, in the eyes of his neighbours and of the

populace.

The official reports of recent travels in the interior of Japan have

fully proved the hard lot with which the peasantry had to put up

during the government of the Tycoons, and especially under the

Hatamotos, the created nobility of the dynasty. In one province, where

the village mayors appear to have seconded the extortions of their

lord, they have had to flee before an exasperated population, who,

taking advantage of the revolution, laid waste and pillaged their

houses, loudly praying for a new and just assessment of the land;

while, throughout the country, the farmers have hailed with

acclamations the resumption of the sovereign power by the Mikado, and

the abolition of the petty nobility who exalted themselves upon the

misery of their dependants. Warming themselves in the sunshine of the

court at Yedo, the Hatamotos waxed fat and held high revel, and

little cared they who groaned or who starved. Money must be found, and

it was found.

It is necessary here to add a word respecting the position of the

village mayors, who play so important a part in the tale.

The peasants of Japan are ruled by three classes of officials: the

Nanushi, or mayor; the Kumigashira, or chiefs of companies; and the

Hiyakushôdai, or farmers' representatives. The village, which is

governed by the Nanushi, or mayor, is divided into companies, which,

consisting of five families each, are directed by a Kumigashira; these

companies, again, are subdivided into groups of five men each, who

choose one of their number to represent them in case of their having

any petition to present, or any affairs to settle with their

superiors. This functionary is the Hiyakushôdai. The mayor, the chief

of the company, and the representative keep registers of the families

and people under their control, and are responsible for their good and

orderly behaviour. They pay taxes like the other farmers, but receive

a salary, the amount of which depends upon the size and wealth of the

village. Five per cent. of the yearly land tax forms the salary of the

mayor, and the other officials each receive five per cent. of the tax

paid by the little bodies over which they respectively rule.

The average amount of land for one family to cultivate is about one

chô, or 9,000 square yards; but there are farmers who have inherited

as much as five or even six chô from their ancestors. There is also a

class of farmers called, from their poverty, "water-drinking farmers,"

who have no land of their own, but hire that of those who have more

than they can keep in their own hands. The rent so paid varies; but

good rice land will bring in as high a rent as from £1 18s. to £2 6s.

per tan (1,800 square feet).

Farm labourers are paid from six or seven riyos a year to as much as

thirty riyos (the riyo being worth about 5s. 4d.); besides this, they

are clothed and fed, not daintily indeed, but amply. The rice which

they cultivate is to them an almost unknown luxury: millet is their

staple food, and on high days and holidays they receive messes of

barley or buckwheat. Where the mulberry-tree is grown, and the

silkworm is "educated," there the labourer receives the highest wage.

The rice crop on good land should yield twelve and a half fold, and on

ordinary land from six to seven fold only. Ordinary arable land is

only half as valuable as rice land, which cannot be purchased for less

than forty riyos per tan of 1,800 square feet. Common hill or wood

land is cheaper, again, than arable land; but orchards and groves of

the Pawlonia are worth from fifty to sixty riyos per tan.

With regard to the punishment of crucifixion, by which Sôgorô was put

to death, it is inflicted for the following offences:--parricide

(including the murder or striking of parents, uncles, aunts, elder

brothers, masters, or teachers) coining counterfeit money, and passing

the barriers of the Tycoon's territory without a permit.[59] The

criminal is attached to an upright post with two cross bars, to which

his arms and feet are fastened by ropes. He is then transfixed with

spears by men belonging to the Eta or Pariah class. I once passed the

execution-ground near Yedo, when a body was attached to the cross. The

dead man had murdered his employer, and, having been condemned to

death by crucifixion, had died in prison before the sentence could be

carried out. He was accordingly packed, in a squatting position, in a

huge red earthenware jar, which, having been tightly filled up with.

salt, was hermetically sealed. On the anniversary of the commission of

the crime, the jar was carried down to the execution-ground and

broken, and the body was taken out and tied to the cross, the joints

of the knees and arms having been cut, to allow of the extension of

the stiffened and shrunken limbs; it was then transfixed with spears,

and allowed to remain exposed for three days. An open grave, the

upturned soil of which seemed almost entirely composed of dead men's

remains, waited to receive the dishonoured corpse, over which three or

four Etas, squalid and degraded beings, were mounting guard, smoking

their pipes by a scanty charcoal fire, and bandying obscene jests. It

was a hideous and ghastly warning, had any cared to read the lesson;

but the passers-by on the high road took little or no notice of the

sight, and a group of chubby and happy children were playing not ten

yards from the dead body, as if no strange or uncanny thing were near

them.

[Footnote 59: This last crime is, of course, now obsolete.]

the ghost of sakura.[60]

[Footnote 60: The story, which also forms the subject of a play, is

published, but with altered names, in order that offence may not be

given to the Hotta family. The real names are preserved here. The

events related took place during the rule of the Shogun Iyémitsu, in

the first half of the seventeenth century.]

How true is the principle laid down by Confucius, that the benevolence

of princes is reflected in their country, while their wickedness

causes sedition and confusion!

In the province of Shimôsa, and the district of Sôma, Hotta Kaga no

Kami was lord of the castle of Sakura, and chief of a family which had

for generations produced famous warriors. When Kaga no Kami, who had

served in the Gorôjiu, the cabinet of the Shogun, died at the castle

of Sakura, his eldest son Kôtsuké no Suké Masanobu inherited his

estates and honours, and was appointed to a seat in the Gorôjiu; but

he was a different man from the lords who had preceded him. He treated

the farmers and peasants unjustly, imposing additional and grievous

taxes, so that the tenants on his estates were driven to the last

extremity of poverty; and although year after year, and month after

month, they prayed for mercy, and remonstrated against this injustice,

no heed was paid to them, and the people throughout the villages were

reduced to the utmost distress. Accordingly, the chiefs of the one

hundred and thirty-six villages, producing a total revenue of 40,000

kokus of rice, assembled together in council and determined

unanimously to present a petition to the Government, sealed with their

seals, stating that their repeated remonstrances had been taken no

notice of by their local authorities. Then they assembled in numbers

before the house of one of the councillors of their lord, named Ikéura

Kazuyé, in order to show the petition to him first, but even then no

notice was taken of them; so they returned home, and resolved, after

consulting together, to proceed to their lord's yashiki, or palace, at

Yedo, on the seventh day of the tenth month. It was determined, with

one accord, that one hundred and forty-three village chiefs should go

to Yedo; and the chief of the village of Iwahashi, one Sôgorô, a man

forty-eight years of age, distinguished for his ability and judgment,

ruling a district which produced a thousand kokus, stepped forward,

and said--

"This is by no means an easy matter, my masters. It certainly is of

great importance that we should forward our complaint to our lord's

palace at Yedo; but what are your plans? Have you any fixed

intentions?"

"It is, indeed, a most important matter," rejoined the others; but

they had nothing further to say. Then Sôgorô went on to say--

"We have appealed to the public office of our province, but without

avail; we have petitioned the Prince's councillors, also in vain. I

know that all that remains for us is to lay our case before our lord's

palace at Yedo; and if we go there, it is equally certain that we

shall not be listened to--on the contrary, we shall be cast into

prison. If we are not attended to here, in our own province, how much

less will the officials at Yedo care for us. We might hand our

petition into the litter of one of the Gorôjiu, in the public streets;

but, even in that case, as our lord is a member of the Gorôjiu, none

of his peers would care to examine into the rights and wrongs of our

complaint, for fear of offending him, and the man who presented the

petition in so desperate a manner would lose his life on a bootless

errand. If you have made up your minds to this, and are determined, at

all hazards, to start, then go to Yedo by all means, and bid a long

farewell to parents, children, wives, and relations. This is my

opinion."

The others all agreeing with what Sôgorô said, they determined that,

come what might, they would go to Yedo; and they settled to assemble

at the village of Funabashi on the thirteenth day of the eleventh

month.

On the appointed day all the village officers met at the place agreed

upon,--Sôgorô, the chief of the village of Iwahashi, alone being

missing; and as on the following day Sôgorô had not yet arrived, they

deputed one of their number, named Rokurobei, to inquire the reason.

Rokurobei arrived at Sôgorô's house towards four in the afternoon, and

found him warming himself quietly over his charcoal brazier, as if

nothing were the matter. The messenger, seeing this, said rather

testily--

"The chiefs of the villages are all assembled at Funabashi according

to covenant, and as you, Master Sôgorô, have not arrived, I have come

to inquire whether it is sickness or some other cause that prevents

you."

"Indeed," replied Sôgorô, "I am sorry that you should have had so much

trouble. My intention was to have set out yesterday; but I was taken

with a cholic, with which I am often troubled, and, as you may see, I

am taking care of myself; so for a day or two I shall not be able to

start. Pray be so good as to let the others know this."

Rokurobei, seeing that there was no help for it, went back to the

village of Funabashi and communicated to the others what had occurred.

They were all indignant at what they looked upon as the cowardly

defection of a man who had spoken so fairly, but resolved that the

conduct of one man should not influence the rest, and talked

themselves into the belief that the affair which they had in hand

would be easily put through; so they agreed with one accord to start

and present the petition, and, having arrived at Yedo, put up in the

street called Bakurochô. But although they tried to forward their

complaint to the various officers of their lord, no one would listen

to them; the doors were all shut in their faces, and they had to go

back to their inn, crestfallen and without success.

On the following day, being the 18th of the month, they all met

together at a tea-house in an avenue, in front of a shrine of Kwannon

Sama;[61] and having held a consultation, they determined that, as

they could hit upon no good expedient, they would again send for

Sôgorô to see whether he could devise no plan. Accordingly, on the

19th, Rokurobei and one Jiuyémon started for the village of Iwahashi

at noon, and arrived the same evening.

[Footnote 61: A Buddhist deity.]

Now the village chief Sôgorô, who had made up his mind that the

presentation of this memorial was not a matter to be lightly treated,

summoned his wife and children and his relations, and said to them--

"I am about to undertake a journey to Yedo, for the following

reasons:--Our present lord of the soil has increased the land-tax, in

rice and the other imposts, more than tenfold, so that pen and paper

would fail to convey an idea of the poverty to which the people are

reduced, and the peasants are undergoing the tortures of hell upon

earth. Seeing this, the chiefs of the various villages have presented

petitions, but with what result is doubtful. My earnest desire,

therefore, is to devise some means of escape from this cruel

persecution. If my ambitious scheme does not succeed, then shall I

return home no more; and even should I gain my end, it is hard to say

how I may be treated by those in power. Let us drink a cup of wine

together, for it may be that you shall see my face no more. I give my

life to allay the misery of the people of this estate. If I die, mourn

not over my fate; weep not for me."

Having spoken thus, he addressed his wife and his four children,

instructing them carefully as to what he desired to be done after his

death, and minutely stating every wish of his heart. Then, having

drunk a parting cup with them, he cheerfully took leave of all

present, and went to a tea-house in the neighbouring village of

Funabashi, where the two messengers, Rokurobei and Jiuyémon, were

anxiously awaiting his arrival, in order that they might recount to

him all that had taken place at Yedo.

"In short," said they, "it appears to us that we have failed

completely; and we have come to meet you in order to hear what you

propose. If you have any plan to suggest, we would fain be made

acquainted with it."

"We have tried the officers of the district," replied Sôgorô, "and we

have tried my lord's palace at Yedo. However often we might assemble

before my lord's gate, no heed would be given to us. There is nothing

left for us but to appeal to the Shogun."

So they sat talking over their plans until the night was far advanced,

and then they went to rest. The winter night was long; but when the

cawing of the crows was about to announce the morning, the three

friends started on their journey for the tea-house at Asakusa, at

which, upon their arrival, they found the other village elders already

assembled.

"Welcome, Master Sôgorô," said they. "How is it that you have come so

late? We have petitioned all the officers to no purpose, and we have

broken our bones in vain. We are at our wits' end, and can think of no

other scheme. If there is any plan which seems good to you, we pray

you to act upon it."

"Sirs," replied Sôgorô, speaking very quietly, "although we have met

with no better success here than in our own place, there is no use in

grieving. In a day or two the Gorôjiu will be going to the castle; we

must wait for this opportunity, and following one of the litters,

thrust in our memorial. This is my opinion: what think you of it, my

masters?"

One and all, the assembled elders were agreed as to the excellence of

this advice; and having decided to act upon it, they returned to their

inn.

Then Sôgorô held a secret consultation with Jiuyémon, Hanzô,

Rokurobei, Chinzô, and Kinshirô, five of the elders, and, with their

assistance, drew up the memorial; and having heard that on the 26th of

the month, when the Gorôjiu should go to the castle, Kuzé Yamato no

Kami would proceed to a palace under the western enclosure of the

castle, they kept watch in a place hard by. As soon as they saw the

litter of the Gorôjiu approach, they drew near to it, and, having

humbly stated their grievances, handed in the petition; and as it was

accepted, the six elders were greatly elated, and doubted not that

their hearts' desire would be attained; so they went off to a

tea-house at Riyôgoku, and Jiuyémon said--

"We may congratulate ourselves on our success. We have handed in our

petition to the Gorôjiu, and now we may set our minds at rest; before

many days have passed, we shall hear good news from the rulers. To

Master Sôgorô is due great praise for his exertions."

Sôgorô, stepping forward, answered, "Although we have presented our

memorial to the Gorôjiu, the matter will not be so quickly decided; it

is therefore useless that so many of us should remain here: let eleven

men stay with me, and let the rest return home to their several

villages. If we who remain are accused of conspiracy and beheaded, let

the others agree to reclaim and bury our corpses. As for the expenses

which we shall incur until our suit is concluded, let that be

according to our original covenant. For the sake of the hundred and

thirty-six villages we will lay down our lives, if needs must, and

submit to the disgrace of having our heads exposed as those of common

malefactors."

Then they had a parting feast together, and, after a sad leave-taking,

the main body of the elders went home to their own country; while the

others, wending their way to their quarters waited patiently to be

summoned to the Supreme Court. On the 2d day of the 12th month,

Sôgorô, having received a summons from the residence of the Gorôjiu

Kuzé Yamato no Kami, proceeded to obey it, and was ushered to the

porch of the house, where two councillors, named Aijima Gidaiyu and

Yamaji Yôri, met him, and said--

"Some days since you had the audacity to thrust a memorial into the

litter of our lord Yamato no Kami. By an extraordinary exercise of

clemency, he is willing to pardon this heinous offence; but should you

ever again endeavour to force your petitions; upon him, you will be

held guilty of riotous conduct;" and with this they gave back the

memorial.

"I humbly admit the justice of his lordship's censure. But oh! my

lords, this is no hasty nor ill-considered action. Year after year,

affliction upon affliction has been heaped upon us, until at last the

people are without even the necessaries of life; and we, seeing no end

to the evil, have humbly presented this petition. I pray your

lordships of your great mercy to consider our case" and deign to

receive our memorial. Vouchsafe to take some measures that the people

may live, and our gratitude for your great kindness will know no

bounds."

"Your request is a just one," replied the two councillors after

hearing what he said; "but your memorial cannot be received: so you

must even take it back."

With this they gave back the document, and wrote down the names of

Sôgorô and six of the elders who had accompanied him. There was no

help for it: they must take back their petition, and return to their

inn. The seven men, dispirited and sorrowful, sat with folded arms

considering what was best to be done, what plan should be devised,

until at last, when they were at their wits' end, Sôgorô said, in a

whisper--

"So our petition, which we gave in after so much pains, has been

returned after all! With what f ace can we return to our villages

after such a disgrace? I, for one, do not propose to waste my labour

for nothing; accordingly, I shall bide my time until some day, when

the Shogun shall go forth from the castle, and, lying in wait by the

roadside, I shall make known our grievances to him, who is lord over

our lord. This is our last chance."

The others all applauded this speech, and, having with one accord

hardened their hearts, waited for their opportunity.

Now it so happened that, on the 20th day of the 12th month, the then

Shogun, Prince Iyémitsu, was pleased to worship at the tombs of his

ancestors at Uyéno;[62] and Sôgorô and the other elders, hearing this,

looked upon it as a special favour from the gods, and felt certain

that this time they would not fail. So they drew up a fresh memorial,

and at the appointed time Sôgorô hid himself under the Sammayé Bridge,

in front of the black gate at Uyéno. When Prince Iyémitsu passed in

his litter, Sôgorô clambered up from under the bridge, to the great

surprise of the Shogun's attendants, who called out, "Push the fellow

on one side;" but, profiting by the confusion, Sôgorô, raising his

voice and crying, "I wish to humbly present a petition to his Highness

in person," thrust forward his memorial, which he had tied on to the

end of a bamboo stick six feet long, and tried to put it into the

litter; and although there were cries to arrest him, and he was

buffeted by the escort, he crawled up to the side of the litter, and

the Shogun accepted the document. But Sôgorô was arrested by the

escort, and thrown into prison. As for the memorial, his Highness

ordered that it should be handed in to the Gorôjiu Hotta Kôtsuké no

Suké, the lord of the petitioners.

[Footnote 62: Destroyed during the revolution, in the summer of 1868,

by the troops of the Mikado. See note on the tombs of the Shoguns, at

the end of the story.]

When Hotta Kôtsuké no Suké had returned home and read the memorial, he

summoned his councillor, Kojima Shikibu, and said--

"The officials of my estate are mere bunglers. When the peasants

assembled and presented a petition, they refused to receive it, and

have thus brought this trouble upon me. Their folly has been beyond

belief; however, it cannot be helped. We must remit all the new taxes,

and you must inquire how much was paid to the former lord of the

castle. As for this Sôgorô, he is not the only one who is at the

bottom of the conspiracy; however, as this heinous offence of his in

going out to lie in wait for the Shogun's procession is unpardonable,

we must manage to get him given up to us by the Government, and, as an

example for the rest of my people, he shall be crucified--he and his

wife and his children; and, after his death, all that he possesses

shall be confiscated. The other six men shall be banished; and that

will suffice."

"My lord," replied Shikibu, prostrating himself, "your lordship's

intentions are just. Sôgorô, indeed, deserves any punishment for his

outrageous crime. But I humbly venture to submit that his wife and

children cannot be said to be guilty in the same degree: I implore

your lordship mercifully to be pleased to absolve them from so severe

a punishment."

"Where the sin of the father is great, the wife and children cannot be

spared," replied Kôtsuké no Suké; and his councillor, seeing that his

heart was hardened, was forced to obey his orders without further

remonstrance.

So Kôtsuké no Suké, having obtained that Sôgorô should be given up to

him by the Government, caused him to be brought to his estate of

Sakura as a criminal, in a litter covered with nets, and confined him

in prison. When his case had been inquired into, a decree was issued

by the Lord Kôtsuké no Suké that he should be punished for a heinous

crime; and on the 9th day of the 2d month of the second year of the

period styled Shôhô (A.D. 1644) he was condemned to be crucified.

Accordingly Sôgorô, his wife and children, and the elders of the

hundred and thirty-six villages were brought before the Court-house of

Sakura, in which were assembled forty-five chief officers. The elders

were then told that, yielding to their petition, their lord was

graciously pleased to order that the oppressive taxes should be

remitted, and that the dues levied should not exceed those of the

olden time. As for Sôgorô and his wife, the following sentence was

passed upon them:--

"Whereas you have set yourself up as the head of the villagers;

whereas, secondly, you have dared to make light of the Government by

petitioning his Highness the Shogun directly, thereby offering an

insult to your lord; and whereas, thirdly, you have presented a

memorial to the Gorôjiu; and, whereas, fourthly, you were privy to a

conspiracy: for these four heinous crimes you are sentenced to death

by crucifixion. Your wife is sentenced to die in like manner; and your

children will be decapitated.

"This sentence is passed upon the following persons:--

"Sôgorô, chief of the village of Iwahashi, aged 48.

"His wife, Man, aged 38.

"His son, Gennosuké, aged 13.

"His son, Sôhei, aged 10.

"His son, Kihachi, aged 7."

The eldest daughter of Sôgorô, named Hatsu, nineteen years of age, was

married to a man named Jiuyémon, in the village of Hakamura, in

Shitachi, beyond the river, in the territory of Matsudaira Matsu no

Kami (the Prince of Sendai). His second daughter, whose name was Saki,

sixteen years of age, was married to one Tôjiurô, chief of a village

on the property of my lord Naitô Geki. No punishment was decreed

against these two women.

The six elders who had accompanied Sôgorô were told that although by

good rights they had merited death, yet by the special clemency of

their lord their lives would be spared, but that they were condemned

to banishment. Their wives and children would not be attainted, and

their property would be spared. The six men were banished to Oshima,

in the province of Idzu.

Sôgorô heard his sentence with pure courage.

The six men were banished; but three of them lived to be pardoned on

the occasion of the death of the Shogun, Prince Genyuin,[63] and

returned to their country.

[Footnote 63: The name assigned after death to Iyétsuna, the fourth of

the dynasty of Tokugawa, who died on the 8th day of the 5th month of

the year A.D. 1680.]

According to the above decision, the taxes were remitted; and men and

women, young and old, rejoiced over the advantage that had been gained

for them by Sôgorô and by the six elders, and there was not one that

did not mourn for their fate.

When the officers of the several villages left the Court-house, one

Zembei, the chief of the village of Sakato, told the others that he

had some important subjects to speak to them upon, and begged them to

meet him in the temple called Fukushôin. Every man having consented,

and the hundred and thirty-six men having assembled at the temple,

Zembei addressed them as follows:--

"The success of our petition, in obtaining the reduction of our taxes

to the same amount as was levied by our former lord, is owing to

Master Sôgorô, who has thus thrown away his life for us. He and his

wife and children are now to suffer as criminals for the sake of the

one hundred and thirty-six villages. That such a thing should take

place before our very eyes seems to me not to be borne. What say you,

my masters?"

"Ay! ay! what you say is just from top to bottom," replied the others.

Then Hanzayémon, the elder of the village of Katsuta, stepped forward

and said--

"As Master Zembei has just said, Sôgorô is condemned to die for a

matter in which all the village elders are concerned to a man. We

cannot look on unconcerned. Full well I know that it is useless our

pleading for Sôgorô; but we may, at least, petition that the lives of

his wife and children may be spared."

The assembled elders having all applauded this speech, they determined

to draw up a memorial; and they resolved, should their petition not be

accepted by the local authorities, to present it at their lord's

palace in Yedo, and, should that fail, to appeal to the Government.

Accordingly, before noon on the following day, they all affixed their

seals to the memorial, which four of them, including Zembei and

Hanzayémon, composed, as follows:--

"With deep fear we humbly venture to present the following petition,

which the elders of the one hundred and thirty-six villages of this

estate have sealed with their seals. In consequence of the humble

petition which we lately offered up, the taxes have graciously been

reduced to the rates levied by the former lord of the estate, and new

laws have been vouchsafed to us. With reverence and joy the peasants,

great and small, have gratefully acknowledged these favours. With

regard to Sôgorô, the elder of the village of Iwahashi, who ventured

to petition his highness the Shogun in person, thus being guilty of a

heinous crime, he has been sentenced to death in the castle-town. With

fear and trembling we recognize the justice of his sentence. But in

the matter of his wife and children, she is but a woman, and they are

so young and innocent that they cannot distinguish the east from the

west: we pray that in your great clemency you will remit their sin,

and give them up to the representatives of the one hundred and

thirty-six villages, for which we shall be ever grateful. We, the

elders of the villages, know not to what extent we may be

transgressing in presenting this memorial. We were all guilty of

affixing our seals to the former petition; but Sôgorô, who was chief

of a large district, producing a thousand kokus of revenue, and was

therefore a man of experience, acted for the others; and we grieve

that he alone should suffer for all. Yet in his case we reverently

admit that there can be no reprieve. For his wife and children,

however, we humbly implore your gracious mercy and consideration.

"Signed by the elders of the villages of the estate, the 2d year of

Shôhô, and the 2d month."

Having drawn up this memorial, the hundred and thirty-six elders, with

Zembei at their head, proceeded to the Court-house to present the

petition, and found the various officers seated in solemn conclave.

Then the clerk took the petition, and, having opened it, read it

aloud; and the councillor, Ikéura Kazuyé, said--

"The petition which you have addressed to us is worthy of all praise.

But you must know that this is a matter which is no longer within our

control. The affair has been reported to the Government; and although

the priests of my lord's ancestral temple have interceded for Sôgorô,

my lord is so angry that he will not listen even to them, saying that,

had he not been one of the Gorôjiu, he would have been in danger of

being ruined by this man: his high station alone saved him. My lord

spoke so severely that the priests themselves dare not recur to the

subject. You see, therefore, that it will be no use your attempting to

take any steps in the matter, for most certainly your petition will

not be received. You had better, then, think no more about it." And

with these words he gave back the memorial.

Zembei and the elders, seeing, to their infinite sorrow, that their

mission was fruitless, left the Court-house, and most sorrowfully took

counsel together, grinding their teeth in their disappointment when

they thought over what the councillor had said as to the futility of

their attempt. Out of grief for this, Zembei, with Hanzayémon and

Heijiurô, on the 11th day of the 2d month (the day on which Sôgorô and

his wife and children suffered), left Ewaradai, the place of

execution, and went to the temple Zenkôji, in the province of

Shinshiu, and from thence they ascended Mount Kôya in Kishiu, and, on

the 1st day of the 8th month, shaved their heads and became priests;

Zembei changed his name to Kakushin, and Hanzayémon changed his to

Zenshô: as for Heijiurô, he fell sick at the end of the 7th month, and

on the 11th day of the 8th month died, being forty-seven years old

that year. These three men, who had loved Sôgorô as the fishes love

water, were true to him to the last. Heijiurô was buried on Mount

Kôya. Kakushin wandered through the country as a priest, praying for

the entry of Sôgorô and his children into the perfection of paradise;

and, after visiting all the shrines and temples, came back at last to

his own province of Shimôsa, and took up his abode at the temple

Riukakuji, in the village of Kano, and in the district of Imban,

praying and making offerings on behalf of the souls of Sôgorô, his

wife and children. Hanzayémon, now known as the priest Zenshô,

remained at Shinagawa, a suburb of Yedo, and, by the charity of good

people, collected enough money to erect six bronze Buddhas, which

remain standing to this day. He fell sick and died, at the age of

seventy, on the 10th day of the 2d month of the 13th year of the

period styled Kambun. Zembei, who, as a priest, had changed his name

to Kakushin, died, at the age of seventy-six, on the 17th day of the

10th month of the 2d year of the period styled Empô. Thus did those

men, for the sake of Sôgorô and his family, give themselves up to

works of devotion; and the other villagers also brought food to soothe

the spirits of the dead, and prayed for their entry into paradise; and

as litanies were repeated without intermission, there can be no doubt

that Sôgorô attained salvation.

"In paradise, where the blessings of God are distributed without

favour, the soul learns its faults by the measure of the rewards

given. The lusts of the flesh are abandoned; and the soul, purified,

attains to the glory of Buddha."[64]

[Footnote 64: Buddhist text.]

On the 11th day of the 2d month of the 2d year of Shôhô, Sôgorô having

been convicted of a heinous crime, a scaffold was erected at Ewaradai,

and the councillor who resided at Yedo and the councillor who resided

on the estate, with the other officers, proceeded to the place in all

solemnity. Then the priests of Tôkôji, in the village of Sakénaga,

followed by coffin-bearers, took their places in front of the

councillors, and said--

"We humbly beg leave to present a petition."

"What have your reverences to say?"

"We are men who have forsaken the world and entered the priesthood,"

answered the monks, respectfully; "and we would fain, if it be

possible, receive the bodies of those who are to die, that we may bury

them decently. It will be a great joy to us if our humble petition be

graciously heard and granted."

"Your request shall be granted; but as the crime of Sôgorô was great,

his body must be exposed for three days and three nights, after which

the corpse shall be given to you."

At the hour of the snake (10 A.M.), the hour appointed for the

execution, the people from the neighbouring villages and the

castle-town, old and young, men and women, flocked to see the sight:

numbers there were, too, who came to bid a last farewell to Sôgorô,

his wife and children, and to put up a prayer for them. When the hour

had arrived, the condemned were dragged forth bound, and made to sit

upon coarse mats. Sôgorô and his wife closed their eyes, for the sight

was more than they could bear; and the spectators, with heaving

breasts and streaming eyes, cried "Cruel!" and "Pitiless!" and taking

sweetmeats and cakes from the bosoms of their dresses threw them to

the children. At noon precisely Sôgorô and his wife were bound to the

crosses, which were then set upright and fixed in the ground. When

this had been done, their eldest son Gennosuké was led forward to the

scaffold, in front of the two parents. Then Sôgorô cried out--

"Oh! cruel, cruel! what crime has this poor child committed that he

is treated thus? As for me, it matters not what becomes of me." And

the tears trickled down his face.

The spectators prayed aloud, and shut their eyes; and the executioner

himself, standing behind the boy, and saying that it was a pitiless

thing that the child should suffer for the father's fault, prayed

silently. Then Gennosuké, who had remained with his eyes closed, said

to his parents--

"Oh! my father and mother, I am going before you to paradise, that

happy country, to wait for you. My little brothers and I will be on

the banks of the river Sandzu,[65] and stretch out our hands and help

you across. Farewell, all you who have come to see us die; and now

please cut off my head at once."

[Footnote 65: The Buddhist Styx, which separates paradise from hell,

across which the dead are ferried by an old woman, for whom a small

piece of money is buried with them.]

With this he stretched out his neck, murmuring a last prayer; and not

only Sôgorô and his wife, but even the executioner and the spectators

could not repress their tears; but the headsman, unnerved as he was,

and touched to the very heart, was forced, on account of his office,

to cut off the child's head, and a piteous wail arose from the parents

and the spectators.

Then the younger child Sôhei said to the headsman, "Sir, I have a sore

on my right shoulder: please, cut my head off from the left shoulder,

lest you should hurt me. Alas! I know not how to die, nor what I

should do."

When the headsman and the officers present heard the child's artless

speech, they wept again for very pity; but there was no help for it,

and the head fell off more swiftly than water is drunk up by sand.

Then little Kihachi, the third son, who, on account of his tender

years, should have been spared, was butchered as he was in his

simplicity eating the sweetmeats which had been thrown to him by the

spectators.

When the execution of the children was over, the priests of Tôkôji

took their corpses, and, having placed them in their coffins, carried

them away, amidst the lamentations of the bystanders, and buried them

with great solemnity.

Then Shigayémon, one of the servants of Danzayémon, the chief of the

Etas, who had been engaged for the purpose, was just about to thrust

his spear, when O Man, Sôgorô's wife, raising her voice, said--

"Remember, my husband, that from the first you had made up your mind

to this fate. What though our bodies be disgracefully exposed on these

crosses?--we have the promises of the gods before us; therefore, mourn

not. Let us fix our minds upon death: we are drawing near to paradise,

and shall soon be with the saints. Be calm, my husband. Let us

cheerfully lay down our single lives for the good of many. Man lives

but for one generation; his name, for many. A good name is more to be

prized than life."

So she spoke; and Sôgorô on the cross, laughing gaily, answered--

"Well said, wife! What though we are punished for the many? Our

petition was successful, and there is nothing left to wish for. Now I

am happy, for I have attained my heart's desire. The changes and

chances of life are manifold. But if I had five hundred lives, and

could five hundred times assume this shape of mine, I would die five

hundred times to avenge this iniquity. For myself I care not; but that

my wife and children should be punished also is too much. Pitiless and

cruel! Let my lord fence himself in with iron walls, yet shall my

spirit burst through them and crush his bones, as a return for this

deed."

And as he spoke, his eyes became vermilion red, and flashed like the

sun or the moon, and he looked like the demon Razetsu.[66]

[Footnote 66: A Buddhist fiend.]

"Come," shouted he, "make haste and pierce me with the spear."

"Your wishes shall be obeyed," said the Eta, Shigayémon, and thrust in

a spear at his right side until it came out at his left shoulder, and

the blood streamed out like a fountain. Then he pierced the wife from

the left side; and she, opening her eyes, said in a dying voice--

"Farewell, all you who are present. May harm keep far from you.

Farewell! farewell!" and as her voice waxed faint, the second spear

was thrust in from her right side, and she breathed out her spirit.

Sôgorô, the colour of his face not even changing, showed no sign of

fear, but opening his eyes wide, said--

"Listen, my masters! all you who have come to see this sight.

Recollect that I shall pay my thanks to my lord Kôtsuké no Suké for

this day's work. You shall see it for yourselves, so that it shall be

talked of for generations to come. As a sign, when I am dead, my head

shall turn and face towards the castle. When you see this, doubt not

that my words shall come true."

When he had spoken thus, the officer directing the execution gave a

sign to the Eta, Shigayémon, and ordered him to finish the execution,

so that Sôgorô should speak no more. So Shigayémon pierced him twelve

or thirteen times, until he died. And when he was dead, his head

turned and faced the castle. When the two councillors beheld this

miracle, they came down from their raised platform, and knelt down

before Sôgorô's dead body and said--

"Although you were but a peasant on this estate, you conceived a noble

plan to succour the other farmers in their distress. You bruised your

bones, and crushed your heart, for their sakes. Still, in that you

appealed to the Shogun in person, you committed a grievous crime, and

made light of your superiors; and for this it was impossible not to

punish you. Still we admit that to include your wife and children in

your crime, and kill them before your eyes, was a cruel deed. What is

done, is done, and regret is of no avail. However, honours shall be

paid to your spirit: you shall be canonized as the Saint Daimiyô, and

you shall be placed among the tutelar deities of my lord's family."

With these words the two councillors made repeated reverences before

the corpse; and in this they showed their faithfulness to their lord.

But he, when the matter was reported to him, only laughed scornfully

at the idea that the hatred of a peasant could affect his feudal lord;

and said that a vassal who had dared to hatch a plot which, had it not

been for his high office, would have been sufficient to ruin him, had

only met with his deserts. As for causing him to be canonized, let him

be as he was. Seeing their lord's anger, his councillors could only

obey. But it was not long before he had cause to know that, though

Sôgorô was dead, his vengeance was yet alive.

The relations of Sôgorô and the elders of the villages having been

summoned to the Court-house, the following document was issued:--

"Although the property of Sôgorô, the elder of the village of

Iwahashi, is confiscated, his household furniture shall be made over

to his two married daughters; and the village officials will look to

it that these few poor things be not stolen by lawless and

unprincipled men.

"His rice-fields and corn-fields, his mountain land and forest land,

will be sold by auction. His house and grounds will be given over to

the elder of the village. The price fetched by his property will be

paid over to the lord of the estate.

"The above decree will be published, in full, to the peasants of the

village; and it is strictly forbidden to find fault with this

decision.

"The 12th day of the 2d month, of the 2d year of the period Shôhô."

The peasants, having heard this degree with all humility, left the

Court-house. Then the following punishments were awarded to the

officers of the castle, who, by rejecting the petition of the peasants

in the first instance, had brought trouble upon their lord:--

"Dismissed from their office, the resident councillors at Yedo and at

the castle-town.

"Banished from the province, four district governors, and three

bailiffs, and nineteen petty officers.

"Dismissed from office, three metsukés, or censors, and seven

magistrates.

"Condemned to _hara-kiri_, one district governor and one Yedo bailiff.

"The severity of this sentence is owing to the injustice of the

officials in raising new and unprecedented taxes, and bringing

affliction upon the people, and in refusing to receive the petitions

of the peasants, without consulting their lord, thus driving them to

appeal to the Shogun in person. In their avarice they looked not to

the future, but laid too heavy a burden on the peasants, so that they

made an appeal to a higher power, endangering the honour of their

lord's house. For this bad government the various officials are to be

punished as above."

In this wise was justice carried out at the palace at Yedo and at the

Court-house at home. But in the history of the world, from the dark

ages down to the present time, there are few instances of one man

laying down his life for the many, as Sôgorô did: noble and peasant

praise him alike.

As month after month passed away, towards the fourth year of the

period Shôhô, the wife of my lord Kôtsuké no Suké, being with child,

was seized with violent pains; and retainers were sent to all the

different temples and shrines to pray by proxy, but all to no purpose:

she continued to suffer as before. Towards the end of the seventh

month of the year, there appeared, every night, a preternatural light

above the lady's chamber; this was accompanied by hideous sounds as of

many people laughing fiendishly, and sometimes by piteous wailings, as

though myriads of persons were lamenting. The profound distress caused

by this added to her sufferings; so her own privy councillor, an old

man, took his place in the adjoining chamber, and kept watch. All of a

sudden, he heard a noise as if a number of people were walking on the

boards of the roof of my lady's room; then there was a sound of men

and women weeping; and when, thunderstruck, the councillor was

wondering what it could all be, there came a wild burst of laughter,

and all was silent. Early the following morning, the old women who had

charge of my lady's household presented themselves before my lord

Kôtsuké no Suké, and said--

"Since the middle of last month, the waiting-women have been

complaining to us of the ghostly noises by which my lady is nightly

disturbed, and they say that they cannot continue to serve her. We

have tried to soothe them, by saying that the devils should be

exorcised at once, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. Still

we feel that their fears are not without reason, and that they really

cannot do their work; so we beg that your lordship will take the

matter into your consideration."

"This is a passing strange story of yours; however, I will go myself

to-night to my lady's apartments and keep watch. You can come with

me."

Accordingly, that night my lord Kôtsuké no Suké sat up in person. At

the hour of the rat (midnight) a fearful noise of voices was heard,

and Sôgorô and his wife, bound to the fatal crosses, suddenly

appeared; and the ghosts, seizing the lady by the hand, said--

"We have come to meet you. The pains you are suffering are terrible,

but they are nothing in comparison with those of the hell to which we

are about to lead you."

At these words, Kôtsuké no Suké, seizing his sword, tried to sweep the

ghosts away with a terrific cut; but a loud peal of laughter was

heard, and the visions faded away. Kôtsuké no Suké, terrified, sent

his retainers to the temples and shrines to pray that the demons

might be cast out; but the noises were heard nightly, as before. When

the eleventh month of the year came round, the apparitions of human

forms in my lady's apartments became more and more frequent and

terrible, all the spirits railing at her, and howling out that they

had come to fetch her. The women would all scream and faint; and then

the ghosts would disappear amid yells of laughter. Night after night

this happened, and even in the daytime the visions would manifest

themselves; and my lady's sickness grew worse daily, until in the last

month of the year she died, of grief and terror. Then the ghost of

Sôgorô and his wife crucified would appear day and night in the

chamber of Kôtsuké no Suké, floating round the room, and glaring at

him with red and flaming eyes. The hair of the attendants would stand

on end with terror; and if they tried to cut at the spirits, their

limbs would be cramped, and their feet and hands would not obey their

bidding. Kôtsuké no Suké would draw the sword that lay by his bedside;

but, as often as he did so, the ghosts faded away, only to appear

again in a more hideous shape than before, until at last, having

exhausted his strength and spirits, even he became terror-stricken.

The whole household was thrown into confusion, and day after day

mystic rites and incantations were performed by the priests over

braziers of charcoal, while prayers were recited without ceasing; but

the visions only became more frequent, and there was no sign of their

ceasing. After the 5th year of Shôhô, the style of the years was

changed to Keian; and during the 1st year of Keian the spirits

continued to haunt the palace; and now they appeared in the chamber of

Kôtsuké no Suké's eldest son, surrounding themselves with even more

terrors than before; and when Kôtsuké no Suké was about to go to the

Shogun's castle, they were seen howling out their cries of vengeance

in the porch of the house. At last the relations of the family and the

members of the household took counsel together, and told Kôtsuké no

Suké that without doubt no ordinary means would suffice to lay the

ghosts; a shrine must be erected to Sôgorô, and divine honours paid to

him, after which the apparitions would assuredly cease. Kôtsuké no

Suké having carefully considered the matter and given his consent,

Sôgorô was canonized under the name of Sôgo Daimiyô, and a shrine was

erected in his honour. After divine honours had been paid to him, the

awful visions were no more seen, and the ghost of Sôgorô was laid for

ever.

In the 2d year of the period Keian, on the 11th day of the 10th month,

on the occasion of the festival of first lighting the fire on the

hearth, the various Daimios and Hatamotos of distinction went to the

castle of the Shogun, at Yedo, to offer their congratulations on this

occasion. During the ceremonies, my lord Hotta Kôtsuké no Suké and

Sakai Iwami no Kami, lord of the castle of Matsumoto, in the province

of Shinshiu, had a quarrel, the origin of which was not made public;

and Sakai Iwami no Kami, although he came of a brave and noble

family, received so severe a wound that he died on the following day,

at the age of forty-three; and in consequence of this, his family was

ruined and disgraced.[67] My lord Kôtsuké no Suké, by great good

fortune, contrived to escape from the castle, and took refuge in his

own house, whence, mounting a famous horse called Hira-Abumi,[68] he

fled to his castle of Sakura, in Shimôsa, accomplishing the distance,

which is about sixty miles, in six hours. When he arrived in front of

the castle, he called out in a loud voice to the guard within to open

the gate, answering, in reply to their challenge, that he was Kôtsuké

no Suké, the lord of the castle. The guard, not believing their ears,

sent word to the councillor in charge of the castle, who rushed out to

see if the person demanding admittance were really their lord. When he

saw Kôtsuké no Suké, he caused the gates to be opened, and, thinking

it more than strange, said--

"Is this indeed you, my lord? What strange chance brings your lordship

hither thus late at night, on horseback and alone, without a single

follower?"

[Footnote 67: In the old days, if a noble was murdered, and died

outside his own house, he was disgraced, and his estates were

forfeited. When the Regent of the Shogun was murdered, some years

since, outside the castle of Yedo, by a legal fiction it was given out

that he had died in his own palace, in order that his son might

succeed to his estates.]

[Footnote 68: Level stirrups.]

With these words he ushered in Kôtsuké no Suké, who, in reply to the

anxious inquiries of his people as to the cause of his sudden

appearance, said--

"You may well be astonished. I had a quarrel to-day in the castle at

Yedo, with Sakai Iwami no Kami, the lord of the castle of Matsumoto,

and I cut him down. I shall soon be pursued; so we must strengthen the

fortress, and prepare for an attack."

The household, hearing this, were greatly alarmed, and the whole

castle was thrown into confusion. In the meanwhile the people of

Kôtsuké no Suké's palace at Yedo, not knowing whether their lord had

fled, were in the greatest anxiety, until a messenger came from

Sakura, and reported his arrival there.

When the quarrel inside the castle of Yedo and Kôtsuké no Suké's

flight had been taken cognizance of, he was attainted of treason, and

soldiers were sent to seize him, dead or alive. Midzuno Setsu no Kami

and Gotô Yamato no Kami were charged with the execution of the order,

and sallied forth, on the 13th day of the 10th month, to carry it out.

When they arrived at the town of Sasai, they sent a herald with the

following message--

"Whereas Kôtsuké no Suké killed Sakai Iwami no Kami inside the castle

of Yedo, and has fled to his own castle without leave, he is attainted

of treason; and we, being connected with him by ties of blood and of

friendship, have been charged to seize him."

The herald delivered this message to the councillor of Kôtsuké no

Suké, who, pleading as an excuse that his lord was mad, begged the two

nobles to intercede for him. Gotô Yamato no Kami upon this called the

councillor to him, and spoke privately to him, after which the latter

took his leave and returned to the castle of Sakura.

In the meanwhile, after consultation at Yedo, it was decided that, as

Gotô Yamato no Kami and Midzuno Setsu no Kami were related to Kôtsuké

no Suké, and might meet with difficulties for that very reason, two

other nobles, Ogasawara Iki no Kami and Nagai Hida no Kami, should be

sent to assist them, with orders that should any trouble arise they

should send a report immediately to Yedo. In consequence of this

order, the two nobles, with five thousand men, were about to march for

Sakura, on the 15th of the month, when a messenger arrived from that

place bearing the following despatch for the Gorôjiu, from the two

nobles who had preceded them--

"In obedience to the orders of His Highness the Shogun, we

proceeded, on the 13th day of this month, to the castle of

Sakura, and conducted a thorough investigation of the affair.

It is true that Kôtsuké no Suké has been guilty of treason, but

he is out of his mind; his retainers have called in physicians,

and he is undergoing treatment by which his senses are being

gradually restored, and his mind is being awakened from its

sleep. At the time when he slew Sakai Iwami no Kami he was not

accountable for his actions, and will be sincerely penitent

when he is aware of his crime. We have taken him prisoner, and

have the honour to await your instructions; in the meanwhile,

we beg by these present to let you know what we have done.

"(signed) gotô yamato no kami.

midzuno setsu no kami.

_To the Gorôjiu, 2d year of Keian, 2d month, 14th day_."

This despatch reached Yedo on the 16th of the month, and was read by

the Gorôjiu after they had left the castle; and in consequence of the

report of Kôtsuké no Suké's madness, the second expedition was put a

stop to, and the following instructions were sent to Gotô Yamato no

Kami and Midzuno Setsu no Kami--

"With reference to the affair of Hotta Kôtsuké no Suké, lord of

the castle of Sakura, in Shimôsa, whose quarrel with Sakai

Iwami no Kami within the castle of Yedo ended in bloodshed. For

this heinous crime and disregard of the sanctity of the castle,

it is ordered that Kôtsuké no Suké be brought as a prisoner to

Yedo, in a litter covered with nets, that his case may be

judged.

"2d year of Keian, 2d month.

(_Signed by the Gorôjiu_) inaba mino no kami.

inouye kawachi nokami.

katô ecchiu no kami."

Upon the receipt of this despatch, Hotta Kôtsuké nô Suké was

immediately placed in a litter covered with a net of green silk, and

conveyed to Yedo, strictly guarded by the retainers of the two

nobles; and, having arrived at the capital, was handed over to the

charge of Akimoto Tajima no Kami. All his retainers were quietly

dispersed; and his empty castle was ordered to be thrown open, and

given in charge to Midzuno Iki no Kami.

At last Kôtsuké no Suké began to feel that the death of his wife and

his own present misfortunes were a just retribution for the death of

Sôgorô and his wife and children, and he was as one awakened from a

dream. Then night and morning, in his repentance, he offered up

prayers to the sainted spirit of the dead farmer, and acknowledged and

bewailed his crime, vowing that, if his family were spared from ruin

and re-established, intercession should be made at the court of the

Mikado,[69] at Kiyôto, on behalf of the spirit of Sôgorô, so that,

being worshipped with even greater honours than before, his name

should be handed down to all generations.

[Footnote 69: In the days of Shogun's power, the Mikado remained the

Fountain of Honour, and, as chief of the national religion and the

direct descendant of the gods, dispensed divine honours.]

In consequence of this it happened that the spirit of Sôgorô having

relaxed in its vindictiveness, and having ceased to persecute the

house of Hotta, in the 1st month of the 4th year of Keian, Kôtsuké no

Suké received a summons from the Shogun, and, having been forgiven,

was made lord of the castle of Matsuyama, in the province of Déwa,

with a revenue of twenty thousand kokus. In the same year, on the 20th

day of the 4th month, the Shogun, Prince Iyémitsu, was pleased to

depart this life, at the age of forty-eight; and whether by the

forgiving spirit of the prince, or by the divine interposition of the

sainted Sôgorô, Kôtsuké no Suké was promoted to the castle of Utsu no

Miya, in the province of Shimotsuké, with a revenue of eighty thousand

kokus; and his name was changed to Hotta Hida no Kami. He also

received again his original castle of Sakura, with a revenue of twenty

thousand kokus: so that there can be no doubt that the saint was

befriending him. In return for these favours, the shrine of Sôgorô was

made as beautiful as a gem. It is needless to say how many of the

peasants of the estate flocked to the shrine: any good luck that might

befall the people was ascribed to it, and night and day the devout

worshipped at it.

Here follows a copy of the petition which Sôgorô presented to the

Shogun--

"We, the elders of the hundred and thirty-six villages of the district

of Chiba, in the province of Shimôsa, and of the district of Buji, in

the province of Kadzusa, most reverently offer up this our humble

petition.

"When our former lord, Doi Shosho, was transferred to another castle,

in the 9th year of the period Kanyé, Hotta Kaga no Kami became lord of

the castle of Sakura; and in the 17th year of the same period, my lord

Kôtsuké no Suké succeeded him. Since that time the taxes laid upon us

have been raised in the proportion of one tô and two sho to each

koku.[70]

[Footnote 70: 10 Sho = 1 Tô. 10 Tô = 1 Koku.]

"_Item_.--At the present time, taxes are raised on nineteen of our

articles of produce; whereas our former lord only required that we

should furnish him with pulse and sesamum, for which he paid in rice.

"_Item_.--Not only are we not paid now for our produce, but, if it is

not given in to the day, we are driven and goaded by the officials;

and if there be any further delay, we are manacled and severely

reprimanded; so that if our own crops fail, we have to buy produce

from other districts, and are pushed to the utmost extremity of

affliction.

"_Item_.--We have over and over again prayed to be relieved from these

burthens, but our petitions are not received. The people are reduced

to poverty, so that it is hard for them to live under such grievous

taxation. Often they have tried to sell the land which they till, but

none can be found to buy; so they have sometimes given over their land

to the village authorities, and fled with their wives to other

provinces, and seven hundred and thirty men or more have been reduced

to begging, one hundred and eighty-five houses have fallen into ruins;

land producing seven thousand kokus has been given up, and remains

untilled, and eleven temples have fallen into decay in consequence of

the ruin of those upon whom they depended.

"Besides this, the poverty-stricken farmers and women, having been

obliged to take refuge in other provinces, and having no

abiding-place, have been driven to evil courses and bring men to speak

ill of their lord; and the village officials, being unable to keep

order, are blamed and reproved. No attention has been paid to our

repeated representations upon this point; so we were driven to

petition the Gorôjiu Kuzé Yamato no Kami as he was on his way to the

castle, but our petition was returned to us. And now, as a last

resource, we tremblingly venture to approach his Highness the Shogun

in person.

"The 1st year of the period Shôhô, 12th month, 20th day.

The Shogun at that time was Prince Iyémitsu, the grandson of Iyéyasu.

He received the name of Dai-yu-In after his death.

The Gorôjiu at that time were Hotta Kôtsuké no Suké, Sakai Iwami no

Kami, Inaba Mino no Kami, Katô Ecchiu no Kami, Inouyé Kawachi no Kami.

The Wakadoshiyôri (or 2d council) were Torii Wakasa no Kami, Tsuchiya

Dewa no Kami, and Itakura Naizen no Sho.

* * * * *

The belief in ghosts appears to be as universal as that in the

immortality of the soul, upon which it depends. Both in China and

Japan the departed spirit is invested with the power of revisiting the

earth, and, in a visible form, tormenting its enemies and haunting

those places where the perishable part of it mourned and suffered.

Haunted houses are slow to find tenants, for ghosts almost always come

with revengeful intent; indeed, the owners of such houses will almost

pay men to live in them, such is the dread which they inspire, and the

anxiety to blot out the stigma.

One cold winter's night at Yedo, as I was sitting, with a few Japanese

friends, huddled round the imperfect heat of a brazier of charcoal,

the conversation turned upon the story of Sôgorô and upon ghostly

apparitions in general. Many a weird tale was told that evening, and I

noted down the three or four which follow, for the truth of which the

narrators vouched with the utmost confidence.

About ten years ago there lived a fishmonger, named Zenroku, in the

Mikawa-street, at Kanda, in Yedo. He was a poor man, living with his

wife and one little boy. His wife fell sick and died, so he engaged an

old woman to look after his boy while he himself went out to sell his

fish. It happened, one day, that he and the other hucksters of his

guild were gambling; and this coming to the ears of the authorities,

they were all thrown into prison. Although their offence was in itself

a light one, still they were kept for some time in durance while the

matter was being investigated; and Zenroku, owing to the damp and foul

air of the prison, fell sick with fever. His little child, in the

meantime, had been handed over by the authorities to the charge of the

petty officers of the ward to which his father belonged, and was being

well cared for; for Zenroku was known to be an honest fellow, and his

fate excited much compassion. One night Zenroku, pale and emaciated,

entered the house in which his boy was living; and all the people

joyfully congratulated him on his escape from jail. "Why, we heard

that you were sick in prison. This is, indeed, a joyful return." Then

Zenroku thanked those who had taken care of the child, saying that he

had returned secretly by the favour of his jailers that night; but

that on the following day his offence would be remitted, and he should

be able to take possession of his house again publicly. For that

night, he must return to the prison. With this he begged those present

to continue their good offices to his babe; and, with a sad and

reluctant expression of countenance, he left the house. On the

following day, the officers of that ward were sent for by the prison

authorities. They thought that they were summoned that Zenroku might

be handed back to them a free man, as he himself had said to them; but

to their surprise, they were told that he had died the night before in

prison, and were ordered to carry away his dead body for burial. Then

they knew that they had seen Zenroku's ghost; and that when he said

that he should be returned to them on the morrow, he had alluded to

his corpse. So they buried him decently, and brought up his son, who

is alive to this day.

The next story was told by a professor in the college at Yedo, and,

although it is not of so modern a date as the last, he stated it to be

well authenticated, and one of general notoriety.

About two hundred years ago there was a chief of the police, named

Aoyama Shuzen, who lived in the street called Bancho, at Yedo. His

duty was to detect thieves and incendiaries. He was a cruel and

violent man, without heart or compassion, and thought nothing of

killing or torturing a man to gratify spite or revenge. This man

Shuzen had in his house a servant-maid, called O Kiku (the

Chrysanthemum), who had lived in the family since her childhood, and

was well acquainted with her master's temper. One day O Kiku

accidentally broke one of a set of ten porcelain plates, upon which he

set a high value. She knew that she would suffer for her carelessness;

but she thought that if she concealed the matter her punishment would

be still more severe; so she went at once to her master's wife, and,

in fear and trembling, confessed what she had done. When Shuzen came

home, and heard that one of his favourite plates was broken, he flew

into a violent rage, and took the girl to a cupboard, where he left

her bound with cords, and every day cut off one of her fingers. O

Kiku, tightly bound and in agony, could not move; but at last she

contrived to bite or cut the ropes asunder, and, escaping into the

garden, threw herself into a well, and was drowned. From that time

forth, every night a voice was heard coming from the well, counting

one, two, three, and so on up to nine--the number of the plates that

remained unbroken--and then, when the tenth plate should have been

counted, would come a burst of lamentation. The servants of the house,

terrified at this, all left their master's service, until Shuzen, not

having a single retainer left, was unable to perform his public

duties; and when the officers of the government heard of this, he was

dismissed from his office. At this time there was a famous priest,

called Mikadzuki Shônin, of the temple Denzuin, who, having been told

of the affair, came one night to the house, and, when the ghost began

to count the plates, reproved the spirit, and by his prayers and

admonitions caused it to cease from troubling the living.

The laying of disturbed spirits appears to form one of the regular

functions of the Buddhist priests; at least, we find them playing a

conspicuous part in almost every ghost-story.

About thirty years ago there stood a house at Mitsumé, in the Honjô of

Yedo, which was said to be nightly visited by ghosts, so that no man

dared to live in it, and it remained untenanted on that account.

However, a man called Miura Takéshi, a native of the province of

Oshiu, who came to Yedo to set up in business as a fencing-master, but

was too poor to hire a house, hearing that there was a haunted house,

for which no tenant could be found, and that the owner would let any

man live in it rent free, said that he feared neither man nor devil,

and obtained leave to occupy the house. So he hired a fencing-room, in

which he gave his lessons by day, and after midnight returned to the

haunted house. One night, his wife, who took charge of the house in

his absence, was frightened by a fearful noise proceeding from a pond

in the garden, and, thinking that this certainly must be the ghost

that she had heard so much about, she covered her head with the

bed-clothes and remained breathless with terror. When her husband came

home, she told him what had happened; and on the following night he

returned earlier than usual, and waited for the ghostly noise. At the

same time as before, a little after midnight, the same sound was

heard--as though a gun had been fired inside the pond. Opening the

shutters, he looked out, and saw something like a black cloud floating

on the water, and in the cloud was the form of a bald man. Thinking

that there must be some cause for this, he instituted careful

inquiries, and learned that the former tenant, some ten years

previously, had borrowed money from a blind shampooer,[71] and, being

unable to pay the debt, had murdered his creditor, who began to press

him for his money, and had thrown his head into the pond. The

fencing-master accordingly collected his pupils and emptied the pond,

and found a skull at the bottom of it; so he called in a priest, and

buried the skull in a temple, causing prayers to be offered up for the

repose of the murdered man's soul. Thus the ghost was laid, and

appeared no more.

[Footnote 71: The apparently poor shaven-pated and blind shampooers of

Japan drive a thriving trade as money-lenders. They give out small

sums at an interest of 20 per cent. per month--210 per cent. per

annum--and woe betide the luckless wight who falls into their

clutches.]

The belief in curses hanging over families for generations is as

common as that in ghosts and supernatural apparitions. There is a

strange story of this nature in the house of Asai, belonging to the

Hatamoto class. The ancestor of the present representative, six

generations ago, had a certain concubine, who was in love with a man

who frequented the house, and wished in her heart to marry him; but,

being a virtuous woman, she never thought of doing any evil deed. But

the wife of my lord Asai was jealous of the girl, and persuaded her

husband that her rival in his affections had gone astray; when he

heard this he was very angry, and beat her with a candlestick so that

he put out her left eye. The girl, who had indignantly protested her

innocence, finding herself so cruelly handled, pronounced a curse

against the house; upon which, her master, seizing the candlestick

again, dashed out her brains and killed her. Shortly afterwards my

lord Asai lost his left eye, and fell sick and died; and from that

time forth to this day, it is said that the representatives of the

house have all lost their left eyes after the age of forty, and

shortly afterwards they have fallen sick and died at the same age as

the cruel lord who killed his concubine.

note.

Of the many fair scenes of Yedo, none is better worth visiting than

the temple of Zôjôji, one of the two great burial-places of the

Shoguns; indeed, if you wish to see the most beautiful spots of any

Oriental city, ask for the cemeteries: the homes of the dead are ever

the loveliest places. Standing in a park of glorious firs and pines

beautifully kept, which contains quite a little town of neat,

clean-looking houses, together with thirty-four temples for the use of

the priests and attendants of the shrines, the main temple, with its

huge red pillars supporting a heavy Chinese roof of grey tiles, is

approached through a colossal open hall which leads into a stone

courtyard. At one end of this courtyard is a broad flight of

steps--the three or four lower ones of stone, and the upper ones of

red wood. At these the visitor is warned by a notice to take off his

boots, a request which Englishmen, with characteristic disregard of

the feelings of others, usually neglect to comply with. The main hall

of the temple is of large proportions, and the high altar is decorated

with fine bronze candelabra, incense-burners, and other ornaments, and

on two days of the year a very curious collection of pictures

representing the five hundred gods, whose images are known to all

persons who have visited Canton, is hung along the walls. The big bell

outside the main hall is rather remarkable on account of the great

beauty of the deep bass waves of sound which it rolls through the city

than on account of its size, which is as nothing when compared with

that of the big bells of Moscow and Peking; still it is not to be

despised even in that respect, for it is ten feet high and five feet

eight inches in diameter, while its metal is a foot thick: it was hung

up in the year 1673. But the chief objects of interest in these

beautiful grounds are the chapels attached to the tombs of the

Shoguns.

It is said that as Prince Iyéyasu was riding into Yedo to take

possession of his new castle, the Abbot of Zôjôji, an ancient temple

which then stood at Hibiya, near the castle, went forth and waited

before the gate to do homage to the Prince. Iyéyasu, seeing that the

Abbot was no ordinary man, stopped and asked his name, and entered the

temple to rest himself. The smooth-spoken monk soon found such favour

with Iyéyasu, that he chose Zôjôji to be his family temple; and seeing

that its grounds were narrow and inconveniently near the castle, he

caused it to be removed to its present site. In the year 1610 the

temple was raised, by the intercession of Iyéyasu, to the dignity of

the Imperial Temples, which, until the last revolution, were presided

over by princes of the blood; and to the Abbot was granted the right,

on going to the castle, of sitting in his litter as far as the

entrance-hall, instead of dismounting at the usual place and

proceeding on foot through several gates and courtyards. Nor were the

privileges of the temple confined to barren honours, for it was

endowed with lands of the value of five thousand kokus of rice yearly.

When Iyéyasu died, the shrine called Antoku In was erected in his

honour to the south of the main temple. Here, on the seventeenth day

of the fourth month, the anniversary of his death, ceremonies are held

in honour of his spirit, deified as Gongen Sama, and the place is

thrown open to all who may wish to come and pray. But Iyéyasu is not

buried here; his remains lie in a gorgeous shrine among the mountains

some eighty miles north of Yedo, at Nikkô, a place so beautiful that

the Japanese have a rhyming proverb which says, that he who has not

seen Nikkô should never pronounce the word Kekkô (charming, delicious,

grand, beautiful).

Hidétada, the son and successor of Iyéyasu, together with Iyénobu,

Iyétsugu, Iyéshigé, Iyéyoshi, and Iyémochi, the sixth, seventh, ninth,

twelfth, and fourteenth Shoguns of the Tokugawa dynasty, are buried in

three shrines attached to the temple; the remainder, with the

exception of Iyémitsu, the third Shogun, who lies with his grandfather

at Nikkô, are buried at Uyéno.

The shrines are of exceeding beauty, lying on one side of a splendid

avenue of Scotch firs, which border a broad, well-kept gravel walk.

Passing through a small gateway of rare design, we come into a large

stone courtyard, lined with a long array of colossal stone lanterns,

the gift of the vassals of the departed Prince. A second gateway,

supported by gilt pillars carved all round with figures of dragons,

leads into another court, in which are a bell tower, a great cistern

cut out of a single block of stone like a sarcophagus, and a smaller

number of lanterns of bronze; these are given by the Go San Ké, the

three princely families in which the succession to the office of

Shogun was vested. Inside this is a third court, partly covered like a

cloister, the approach to which is a doorway of even greater beauty

and richness than the last; the ceiling is gilt, and painted with

arabesques and with heavenly angels playing on musical instruments,

and the panels of the walls are sculptured in high relief with

admirable representations of birds and flowers, life-size, life-like,

all being coloured to imitate nature. Inside this enclosure stands a

shrine, before the closed door of which a priest on one side, and a

retainer of the house of Tokugawa on the other, sit mounting guard,

mute and immovable as though they themselves were part of the carved

ornaments. Passing on one side of the shrine, we come to another

court, plainer than the last, and at the back of the little temple

inside it is a flight of stone steps, at the top of which, protected

by a bronze door, stands a simple monumental urn of bronze on a stone

pedestal. Under this is the grave itself; and it has always struck me

that there is no small amount of poetical feeling in this simple

ending to so much magnificence; the sermon may have been preached by

design, or it may have been by accident, but the lesson is there.

There is little difference between the three shrines, all of which are

decorated in the same manner. It is very difficult to do justice to

their beauty in words. Writing many thousand miles away from them, I

have the memory before me of a place green in winter, pleasant and

cool in the hottest summer; of peaceful cloisters, of the fragrance of

incense, of the subdued chant of richly robed priests, and the music

of bells; of exquisite designs, harmonious colouring, rich gilding.

The hum of the vast city outside is unheard here: Iyéyasu himself, in

the mountains of Nikkô, has no quieter resting-place than his

descendants in the heart of the city over which they ruled.

Besides the graves of the Shoguns, Zôjôji contains other lesser

shrines, in which are buried the wives of the second, sixth, and

eleventh Shoguns, and the father of Iyénobu, the sixth Shogun, who

succeeded to the office by adoption. There is also a holy place

called the Satsuma Temple, which has a special interest; in it is a

tablet in honour of Tadayoshi, the fifth son of Iyéyasu, whose title

was Matsudaira Satsuma no Kami, and who died young. At his death, five

of his retainers, with one Ogasasawara Kemmotsu at their head,

disembowelled themselves, that they might follow their young master

into the next world. They were buried in this place; and I believe

that this is the last instance on record of the ancient Japanese

custom of _Junshi_, that is to say, "dying with the master."

There are, during the year, several great festivals which are

specially celebrated at Zôjoji; the chief of these are the Kaisanki,

or founder's day, which is on the eighteenth day of the seventh month;

the twenty-fifth day of the first month, the anniversary of the death

of the monk Hônen, the founder of the Jôdo sect of Buddhism (that to

which the temple belongs); the anniversary of the death of Buddha, on

the fifteenth of the second month; the birthday of Buddha, on the

eighth day of the fourth month; and from the sixth to the fifteenth of

the tenth month.

At Uyéno is the second of the burial-grounds of the Shoguns. The

Temple Tô-yei-zan, which stood in the grounds of Uyéno, was built by

Iyémitsu, the third of the Shoguns of the house of Tokugawa, in the

year 1625, in honour of Yakushi Niôrai, the Buddhist Æsculapius. It

faces the Ki-mon, or Devil's Gate, of the castle, and was erected upon

the model of the temple of Hi-yei-zan, one of the most famous of the

holy places of Kiyôto. Having founded the temple, the next care of

Iyémitsu was to pray that Morizumi, the second son of the retired

emperor, should come and reside there; and from that time until 1868,

the temple was always presided over by a Miya, or member of the

Mikado's family, who was specially charged with the care of the tomb

of Iyéyasu at Nikkô, and whose position was that of an ecclesiastical

chief or primate over the east of Japan.

The temples in Yedo are not to be compared in point of beauty with

those in and about Peking; what is marble there is wood here. Still

they are very handsome, and in the days of its magnificence the Temple

of Uyéno was one of the finest. Alas! the main temple, the hall in

honour of the sect to which it belongs, the hall of services, the

bell-tower, the entrance-hall, and the residence of the prince of the

blood, were all burnt down in the battle of Uyéno, in the summer of

1868, when the Shogun's men made their last stand in Yedo against the

troops of the Mikado. The fate of the day was decided by two

field-pieces, which the latter contrived to mount on the roof of a

neighbouring tea-house; and the Shogun's men, driven out of the place,

carried off the Miya in the vain hope of raising his standard in the

north as that of a rival Mikado. A few of the lesser temples and

tombs, and the beautiful park-like grounds, are but the remnants of

the former glory of Uyéno. Among these is a temple in the form of a

roofless stage, in honour of the thousand-handed Kwannon. In the

middle ages, during the civil wars between the houses of Gen and Hei,

one Morihisa, a captain of the house of Hei, after the destruction of

his clan, went and prayed for a thousand days at the temple of the

thousand-handed Kwannon at Kiyomidzu, in Kiyôto. His retreat having

been discovered, he was seized and brought bound to Kamakura, the

chief town of the house of Gen. Here he was condemned to die at a

place called Yui, by the sea-shore; but every time that the

executioner lifted his sword to strike, the blade was broken by the

god Kwannon, and at the same time the wife of Yoritomo, the chief of

the house of Gen, was warned in a dream to spare Morihisa's life. So

Morihisa was reprieved, and rose to power in the state; and all this

was by the miraculous intervention of the god Kwannon, who takes such

good care of his faithful votaries. To him this temple is dedicated. A

colossal bronze Buddha, twenty-two feet high, set up some two hundred

years ago, and a stone lantern, twenty feet high, and twelve feet

round at the top, are greatly admired by the Japanese. There are only

three such lanterns in the empire; the other two being at Nanzenji--a

temple in Kiyôto, and Atsura, a shrine in the province of Owari. All

three were erected by the piety of one man, Sakuma Daizen no Suké, in

the year A.D. 1631.

Iyémitsu, the founder of the temple, was buried with his grandfather,

Iyéyasu, at Nikkô; but both of these princes are honoured with shrines

here. The Shoguns who are interred at Uyéno are Iyétsuna, Tsunayoshi,

Yoshimuné, Iyéharu, Iyénori, and Iyésada, the fourth, fifth, eighth,

tenth, eleventh, and thirteenth Princes of the Line. Besides them, are

buried five wives of the Shoguns, and the father of the eleventh

Shogun.