Kazuma's Revenge

It is a law that he who lives by the sword shall die by the sword. In

Japan, where there exists a large armed class over whom there is

practically little or no control, party and clan broils, and single

quarrels ending in bloodshed and death, are matters of daily

occurrence; and it has been observed that Edinburgh in the olden time,

when the clansmen, roistering through the streets at night, would pass

from high words to deadly blows, is perhaps the best European parallel

of modern Yedo or Kiôto.

It follows that of all his possessions the Samurai sets most store by

his sword, his constant companion, his ally, defensive and offensive.

The price of a sword by a famous maker reaches a high sum: a Japanese

noble will sometimes be found girding on a sword, the blade of which

unmounted is worth from six hundred to a thousand riyos, say from £200

to £300, and the mounting, rich in cunning metal work, will be of

proportionate value. These swords are handed down as heirlooms from

father to son, and become almost a part of the wearer's own self.

Iyéyasu, the founder of the last dynasty of Shoguns, wrote in his

Legacy,[15] a code of rules drawn up for the guidance of his

successors and their advisers in the government, "The girded sword is

the living soul of the Samurai. In the case of a Samurai forgetting

his sword, act as is appointed: it may not be overlooked."

[Footnote 15: _The Legacy of Iyéyasu_, translated by F. Lowder.

Yokohama, 1868. (Printed for private circulation.)]

The occupation of a swordsmith is an honourable profession, the

members of which are men of gentle blood. In a country where trade is

looked down upon as degrading, it is strange to find this single

exception to the general rule. The traditions of the craft are many

and curious. During the most critical moment of the forging of the

sword, when the steel edge is being welded into the body of the iron

blade, it is a custom which still obtains among old-fashioned

armourers to put on the cap and robes worn by the Kugé, or nobles of

the Mikado's court, and, closing the doors of the workshop, to labour

in secrecy and freedom from interruption, the half gloom adding to the

mystery of the operation. Sometimes the occasion is even invested with

a certain sanctity, a tasselled cord of straw, such as is hung before

the shrines of the Kami, or native gods of Japan, being suspended

between two bamboo poles in the forge, which for the nonce is

converted into a holy altar.

At Osaka, I lived opposite to one Kusano Yoshiaki, a swordsmith, a

most intelligent and amiable gentleman, who was famous throughout his

neighbourhood for his good and charitable deeds. His idea was that,

having been bred up to a calling which trades in life and death, he

was bound, so far as in him lay, to atone for this by seeking to

alleviate the suffering which is in the world; and he carried out his

principle to the extent of impoverishing himself. No neighbour ever

appealed to him in vain for help in tending the sick or burying the

dead. No beggar or lazar was ever turned from his door without

receiving some mark of his bounty, whether in money or in kind. Nor

was his scrupulous honesty less remarkable than his charity. While

other smiths are in the habit of earning large sums of money by

counterfeiting the marks of the famous makers of old, he was able to

boast that he had never turned out a weapon which bore any other mark

than his own. From his father and his forefathers he inherited his

trade, which, in his turn, he will hand over to his son--a

hard-working, honest, and sturdy man, the clank of whose hammer and

anvil may be heard from daybreak to sundown.

The trenchant edge of the Japanese sword is notorious. It is said that

the best blades will in the hands of an expert swordsman cut through

the dead bodies of three men, laid one upon the other, at a blow. The

swords of the Shogun used to be tried upon the corpses of executed

criminals; the public headsman was entrusted with the duty, and for a

"nose medicine," or bribe of two bus (about three shillings), would

substitute the weapon of a private individual for that of his Lord.

Dogs and beggars, lying helpless by the roadside, not unfrequently

serve to test a ruffian's sword; but the executioner earns many a fee

from those who wish to see how their blades will cut off a head.

The statesman who shall enact a law forbidding the carrying of this

deadly weapon will indeed have deserved well of his country; but it

will be a difficult task to undertake, and a dangerous one. I would

not give much for that man's life. The hand of every swashbuckler in

the empire would be against him. One day as we were talking over this

and other kindred subjects, a friend of mine, a man of advanced and

liberal views, wrote down his opinion, _more Japonico_, in a verse of

poetry which ran as follows:--"I would that all the swords and dirks

in the country might be collected in one place and molten down, and

that, from the metal so produced, one huge sword might be forged,

which, being the only blade left, should be the girded sword of Great

Japan."

The following history is in more senses than one a "Tale of a Sword."

About two hundred and fifty years ago Ikéda Kunaishôyu was Lord of the

Province of Inaba. Among his retainers were two gentlemen, named

Watanabé Yukiyé and Kawai Matazayémon, who were bound together by

strong ties of friendship, and were in the habit of frequently

visiting at one another's houses. One day Yukiyé was sitting

conversing with Matazayémon in the house of the latter, when, on a

sudden, a sword that was lying in the raised part of the room caught

his eye. As he saw it, he started and said--

"Pray tell me, how came you by that sword?"

"Well, as you know, when my Lord Ikéda followed my Lord Tokugawa

Iyéyasu to fight at Nagakudé, my father went in his train; and it was

at the battle of Nagakudé that he picked up this sword."

"My father went too, and was killed in the fight, and this sword,

which was an heirloom in our family for many generations, was lost at

that time. As it is of great value in my eyes, I do wish that, if you

set no special store by it, you would have the great kindness to

return it to me."

"That is a very easy matter, and no more than what one friend should

do by another. Pray take it."

Upon this Yukiyé gratefully took the sword, and having carried it home

put it carefully away.

At the beginning of the ensuing year Matazayémon fell sick and died,

and Yukiyé, mourning bitterly for the loss of his good friend, and

anxious to requite the favour which he had received in the matter of

his father's sword, did many acts of kindness to the dead man's

son--a young man twenty-two years of age, named Matagorô.

Now this Matagorô was a base-hearted cur, who had begrudged the sword

that his father had given to Yukiyé, and complained publicly and often

that Yukiyé had never made any present in return; and in this way

Yukiyé got a bad name in my Lord's palace as a stingy and illiberal

man.

But Yukiyé had a son, called Kazuma, a youth sixteen years of age, who

served as one of the Prince's pages of honour. One evening, as he and

one of his brother pages were talking together, the latter said--

"Matagorô is telling everybody that your father accepted a handsome

sword from him and never made him any present in return, and people

are beginning to gossip about it."

"Indeed," replied the other, "my father received that sword from

Matagorô's father as a mark of friendship and good-will, and,

considering that it would be an insult to send a present of money in

return, thought to return the favour by acts of kindness towards

Matagorô. I suppose it is money he wants."

When Kazuma's service was over, he returned home, and went to his

father's room to tell him the report that was being spread in the

palace, and begged him to send an ample present of money to Matagorô.

Yukryé reflected for a while, and said--

"You are too young to understand the right line of conduct in such

matters. Matagorô's father and myself were very close friends; so,

seeing that he had ungrudgingly given me back the sword of my

ancestors, I, thinking to requite his kindness at his death, rendered

important services to Matagorô. It would be easy to finish the matter

by sending a present of money; but I had rather take the sword and

return it than be under an obligation to this mean churl, who knows

not the laws which regulate the intercourse and dealings of men of

gentle blood."

So Yukiyé, in his anger, took the sword to Matagorô's house, and said

to him--

"I have come to your house this night for no other purpose than to

restore to you the sword which your father gave me;" and with this he

placed the sword before Matagorô.

"Indeed," replied the other, "I trust that you will not pain me by

returning a present which my father made you."

"Amongst men of gentle birth," said Yukiyé, laughing scornfully, "it

is the custom to requite presents, in the first place by kindness, and

afterwards by a suitable gift offered with a free heart. But it is no

use talking to such as you, who are ignorant of the first principles

of good breeding; so I have the honour to give you back the sword."

As Yukiyé went on bitterly to reprove Matagorô, the latter waxed very

wroth, and, being a ruffian, would have killed Yukiyé on the spot; but

he, old man as he was, was a skilful swordsman, so Matagorô,

craven-like, determined to wait until he could attack him unawares.

Little suspecting any treachery, Yukiyé started to return home, and

Matagorô, under the pretence of attending him to the door, came behind

him with his sword drawn and cut him in the shoulder. The older man,

turning round, drew and defended himself; but having received a severe

wound in the first instance, he fainted away from loss of blood, and

Matagorô slew him.

The mother of Matagorô, startled by the noise, came out; and when she

saw what had been done, she was afraid, and said--"Passionate man!

what have you done? You are a murderer; and now your life will be

forfeit. What terrible deed is this!"

"I have killed him now, and there's nothing to be done. Come, mother,

before the matter becomes known, let us fly together from this house."

"I will follow you; do you go and seek out my Lord Abé Shirogorô, a

chief among the Hatamotos,[16] who was my foster-child. You had better

fly to him for protection, and remain in hiding."

[Footnote 16: _Hatamotos._ The Hatamotos were the feudatory nobles of

the Shogun or Tycoon. The office of Taikun having been abolished, the

Hatamotos no longer exist. For further information respecting them,

see the note at the end of the story.]

So the old woman persuaded her son to make his escape, and sent him to

the palace of Shirogorô.

Now it happened that at this time the Hatamotos had formed themselves

into a league against the powerful Daimios; and Abé Shirogorô, with

two other noblemen, named Kondô Noborinosuké and Midzuno Jiurozayémon,

was at the head of the league. It followed, as a matter of course,

that his forces were frequently recruited by vicious men, who had no

means of gaining their living, and whom he received and entreated

kindly without asking any questions as to their antecedents; how much

the more then, on being applied to for an asylum by the son of his own

foster-mother, did he willingly extend his patronage to him, and

guarantee him against all danger. So he called a meeting of the

principal Hatamotos, and introduced Matagorô to them, saying--"This

man is a retainer of Ikéda Kunaishôyu, who, having cause of hatred

against a man named Watanabé Yukiyé, has slain him, and has fled to me

for protection; this man's mother suckled me when I was an infant,

and, right or wrong, I will befriend him. If, therefore, Ikéda

Kunaishôyu should send to require me to deliver him up, I trust that

you will one and all put forth your strength and help me to defend

him."

"Ay! that will we, with pleasure!" replied Kondô Noborinosuké. "We

have for some time had cause to complain of the scorn with which the

Daimios have treated us. Let Ikéda Kunaishôyu send to claim this man,

and we will show him the power of the Hatamotos."

All the other Hatamotos, with one accord, applauded this

determination, and made ready their force for an armed resistance,

should my Lord Kunaishôyu send to demand the surrender of Matugorô.

But the latter remained as a welcome guest in the house of Abé

Shirogorô.

Now when Watanabé Kazuma saw that, as the night advanced, his father

Yukiyé did not return home, he became anxious, and went to the house

of Matagorô to seek for him, and finding to his horror that he was

murdered, fell upon the corpse and, embraced it, weeping. On a sudden,

it flashed across him that this must assuredly be the handiwork of

Matagorô; so he rushed furiously into the house, determined to kill

his father's murderer upon the spot. But Matagorô had already fled,

and he found only the mother, who was making her preparations for

following her son to the house of Abé Shirogorô: so he bound the old

woman, and searched all over the house for her son; but, seeing that

his search was fruitless, he carried off the mother, and handed her

over to one of the elders of the clan, at the same time laying

information against Matagorô as his father's murderer. When the affair

was reported to the Prince, he was very angry, and ordered that the

old woman should remain bound and be cast into prison until the

whereabouts of her son should be discovered. Then Kazuma buried his

father's corpse with great pomp, and the widow and the orphan mourned

over their loss.

It soon became known amongst the people of Abé Shirogorô that the

mother of Matagorô had been imprisoned for her son's crime, and they

immediately set about planning her rescue; so they sent to the palace

of my Lord Kunaishôyu a messenger, who, when he was introduced to the

councillor of the Prince, said--

"We have heard that, in consequence of the murder of Yukiyé, my lord

has been pleased to imprison the mother of Matagorô. Our master

Shirogorô has arrested the criminal, and will deliver him up to you.

But the mother has committed no crime, so we pray that she may be

released from a cruel imprisonment: she was the foster-mother of our

master, and he would fain intercede to save her life. Should you

consent to this, we, on our side, will give up the murderer, and hand

him over to you in front of our master's gate to-morrow."

The councillor repeated this message to the Prince, who, in his

pleasure at being able to give Kazuma his revenge on the morrow,

immediately agreed to the proposal, and the messenger returned

triumphant at the success of the scheme. On the following day, the

Prince ordered the mother of Matagorô to be placed in a litter and

carried to the Hatamoto's dwelling, in charge of a retainer named

Sasawo Danyémon, who, when he arrived at the door of Abé Shirogorô's

house, said--

"I am charged to hand over to you the mother of Matagorô, and, in

exchange, I am authorized to receive her son at your hands."

"We will immediately give him up to you; but, as the mother and son

are now about to bid an eternal farewell to one another, we beg you to

be so kind as to tarry a little."

With this the retainers of Shirogorô led the old woman inside their

master's house, and Sasawo Danyémon remained waiting outside, until at

last he grew impatient, and ventured to hurry on the people within.

"We return you many thanks," replied they, "for your kindness in

bringing us the mother; but, as the son cannot go with you at present,

you had better return home as quickly as possible. We are afraid we

have put you to much trouble." And so they mocked him.

When Danyémon saw that he had not only been cheated into giving up the

old woman, but was being made a laughing-stock of into the bargain, he

flew into a great rage, and thought to break into the house and seize

Matagorô and his mother by force; but, peeping into the courtyard, he

saw that it was filled with Hatamotos, carrying guns and naked swords.

Not caring then to die fighting a hopeless battle, and at the same

time feeling that, after having been so cheated, he would be put to

shame before his lord, Sasawo Danyémon went to the burial-place of his

ancestors, and disembowelled himself in front of their graves.

When the Prince heard how his messenger had been treated, he was

indignant, and summoning his councillors resolved, although he was

suffering from sickness, to collect his retainers and attack Abé

Shirogorô; and the other chief Daimios, when the matter became

publicly known, took up the cause, and determined that the Hatamotos

must be chastised for their insolence. On their side, the Hatamotos

put forth all their efforts to resist the Daimios. So Yedo became

disturbed, and the riotous state of the city caused great anxiety to

the Government, who took counsel together how they might restore

peace. As the Hatamotos were directly under the orders of the Shogun,

it was no difficult matter to put them down: the hard question to

solve was how to put a restraint upon the great Daimios. However, one

of the Gorôjin,[17] named Matsudaira Idzu no Kami, a man of great

intelligence, hit upon a plan by which he might secure this end.

[Footnote 17: The first Council of the Shogun's ministers; literally,

"assembly of imperial elders."]

There was at this time in the service of the Shogun a physician, named

Nakarai Tsusen, who was in the habit of frequenting the palace of my

Lord Kunaishôyu, and who for some time past had been treating him for

the disease from which he was suffering. Idzu no Kami sent secretly

for this physician, and, summoning him to his private room, engaged

him in conversation, in the midst of which he suddenly dropped his

voice and said to him in a whisper--

"Listen, Tsusen. You have received great favours at the hands of the

Shogun. The Government is now sorely straitened: are you willing to

carry your loyalty so far as to lay down your life on its behalf?"

"Ay, my lord; for generations my forefathers have held their property

by the grace of the Shogun. I am willing this night to lay down my

life for my Prince, as a faithful vassal should."

"Well, then, I will tell you. The great Daimios and the Hatamotos

have fallen out about this affair of Matagorô, and lately it has

seemed as if they meant to come to blows. The country will be

agitated, and the farmers and townsfolk suffer great misery, if we

cannot quell the tumult. The Hatamotos will be easily kept under, but

it will be no light task to pacify the great Daimios. If you are

willing to lay down your life in carrying out a stratagem of mine,

peace will be restored to the country; but your loyalty will be your

death."

"I am ready to sacrifice my life in this service."

"This is my plan. You have been attending my Lord Kunaishôyu in his

sickness; to-morrow you must go to see him, and put poison in his

physic. If we can kill him, the agitation will cease. This is the

service which I ask of you."

Tsusen agreed to undertake the deed; and on the following day, when he

went to see Kunaishôyu, he carried with him poisoned drugs. Half the

draught he drank himself,[18] and thus put the Prince off his guard,

so that he swallowed the remainder fearlessly. Tsusen, seeing this,

hurried away, and as he was carried home in his litter the death-agony

seized him, and he died, vomiting blood.

[Footnote 18: A physician attending a personage of exalted rank has

always to drink half the potion he prescribes as a test of his good

faith.]

My Lord Kunaishôyu died in the same way in great torture, and in the

confusion attending upon his death and funeral ceremonies the struggle

which was impending with the Hatamotos was delayed.

In the meanwhile the Gorôjiu Idzu no Kami summoned the three leaders

of the Hatamotos and addressed them as follows--

"The secret plottings and treasonable, turbulent conduct of you three

men, so unbecoming your position as Hatamotos, have enraged my lord

the Shogun to such a degree, that he has been pleased to order that

you be imprisoned in a temple, and that your patrimony be given over

to your next heirs."

Accordingly the three Hatamotos, after having been severely

admonished, were confined in a temple called Kanyeiji; and the

remaining Hatamotos, scared by this example, dispersed in peace. As

for the great Daimios, inasmuch as after the death of my Lord

Kunaishôyu the Hatamotos were all dispersed, there was no enemy left

for them to fight with; so the tumult was quelled, and peace was

restored.

Thus it happened that Matagorô lost his patron; so, taking his mother

with him, he went and placed himself under the protection of an old

man named Sakurai Jiuzayémon. This old man was a famous teacher of

lance exercise, and enjoyed both wealth and honour; so he took in

Matagorô, and having engaged as a guard thirty Rônins, all resolute

fellows and well skilled in the arts of war, they all fled together to

a distant place called Sagara.

All this time Watanabé Kazuma had been brooding over his father's

death, and thinking how he should be revenged upon the murderer; so

when my Lord Kunaishôyu suddenly died, he went to the young Prince

who succeeded him and obtained leave of absence to go and seek out

his father's enemy. Now Kazuma's elder sister was married to a man

named Araki Matayémon, who at that time was famous as the first

swordsman in Japan. As Kazuma was but sixteen years of age, this

Matayémon, taking into consideration his near relationship as

son-in-law to the murdered man, determined to go forth with the lad,

as his guardian, and help him to seek out Matagorô; and two of

Matayémon's retainers, named Ishidomé Busuké and Ikezoyé Magohachi,

made up their minds, at all hazards, to follow their master. The

latter, when he heard their intention, thanked them, but refused the

offer, saying that as he was now about to engage in a vendetta in

which his life would be continually in jeopardy, and as it would be a

lasting grief to him should either of them receive a wound in such a

service, he must beg them to renounce their intention; but they

answered--

"Master, this is a cruel speech of yours. All these years have we

received nought but kindness and favours at your hands; and now that

you are engaged in the pursuit of this murderer, we desire to follow

you, and, if needs must, to lay down our lives in your service.

Furthermore, we have heard that the friends of this Matagorô are no

fewer than thirty-six men; so, however bravely you may fight, you will

be in peril from the superior numbers of your enemy. However, if you

are pleased to persist in your refusal to take us, we have made up our

minds that there is no resource for us but to disembowel ourselves on

the spot."

When Matayémon and Kazuma heard these words, they wondered at these

faithful and brave men, and were moved to tears. Then Matayémon said--

"The kindness of you two brave fellows is without precedent. Well,

then, I will accept your services gratefully."

Then the two men, having obtained their wish, cheerfully followed

their master; and the four set out together upon their journey to seek

out Matagorô, of whose whereabouts they were completely ignorant.

Matagorô in the meanwhile had made his way, with the old man Sakurai

Jiuzayémon and his thirty Rônins, to Osaka. But, strong as they were

in numbers, they travelled in great secrecy. The reason for this was

that the old man's younger brother, Sakurai Jinsuké, a fencing-master

by profession, had once had a fencing-match with Matayémon, Kazuma's

brother-in-law, and had been shamefully beaten; so that the party were

greatly afraid of Matayémon, and felt that, since he was taking up

Kazuma's cause and acting as his guardian, they might be worsted in

spite of their numbers: so they went on their way with great caution,

and, having reached Osaka, put up at an inn in a quarter called

Ikutama, and hid from Kazuma and Matayémon.

The latter also in good time reached Osaka, and spared no pains to

seek out Matagorô. One evening towards dusk, as Matayémon was walking

in the quarter where the enemy were staying, he saw a man, dressed as

a gentleman's servant, enter a cook-shop and order some buckwheat

porridge for thirty-six men, and looking attentively at the man, he

recognized him as the servant of Sakurai Jiuzayémon; so he hid himself

in a dark place and watched, and heard the fellow say--

"My master, Sakurai Jiuzayémon, is about to start for Sagara to-morrow

morning, to return thanks to the gods for his recovery from a sickness

from which he has been suffering; so I am in a great hurry."

With these words the servant hastened away; and Matayémon, entering

the shop, called for some porridge, and as he ate it, made some

inquiries as to the man who had just given so large an order for

buckwheat porridge. The master of the shop answered that he was the

attendant of a party of thirty-six gentlemen who were staying at such

and such an inn. Then Matayémon, having found out all that he wanted

to know, went home and told Kazuma, who was delighted at the prospect

of carrying his revenge into execution on the morrow. That same

evening Matayémon sent one of his two faithful retainers as a spy to

the inn, to find out at what hour Matagorô was to set out on the

following morning; and he ascertained from the servants of the inn,

that the party was to start at daybreak for Sagara, stopping at Isé to

worship at the shrine of Tershô Daijin.[19]

[Footnote 19: Goddess of the sun, and ancestress of the Mikados.]

Matayémon made his preparations accordingly, and, with Kazuma and his

two retainers, started before dawn. Beyond Uyéno, in the province of

Iga, the castle-town of the Daimio Tôdô Idzumi no Kami, there is a

wide and lonely moor; and this was the place upon which they fixed for

the attack upon the enemy. When they had arrived at the spot,

Matayémon went into a tea-house by the roadside, and wrote a petition

to the governor of the Daimio's castle-town for permission to carry

out the vendetta within its precincts;[20] then he addressed Kazuma,

and said--

"When we fall in with Matagorô and begin the fight, do you engage and

slay your father's murderer; attack him and him only, and I will keep

off his guard of Rônins;" then turning to his two retainers, "As for

you, keep close to Kazuma; and should the Rônins attempt to rescue

Matagorô, it will be your duty to prevent them, and succour Kazuma."

And having further laid down each man's duties with great minuteness,

they lay in wait for the arrival of the enemy. Whilst they were

resting in the tea-house, the governor of the castle-town arrived,

and, asking for Matayémou, said--

"I have the honour to be the governor of the castle-town of Tôdô

Idzumi no Kami. My lord, having learnt your intention of slaying your

enemy within the precincts of his citadel, gives his consent; and as a

proof of his admiration of your fidelity and valour, he has further

sent you a detachment of infantry, one hundred strong, to guard the

place; so that should any of the thirty-six men attempt to escape, you

may set your mind at ease, for flight will be impossible."

[Footnote 20: "In respect to revenging injury done to master or

father, it is granted by the wise and virtuous (Confucius) that you

and the injurer cannot live together under the canopy of heaven.

"A person harbouring such vengeance shall notify the same in writing

to the Criminal Court; and although no check or hindrance may be

offered to his carrying out his desire within the period allowed for

that purpose, it is forbidden that the chastisement of an enemy be

attended with riot.

"Fellows who neglect to give notice of their intended revenge are like

wolves of pretext, and their punishment or pardon should depend upon

the circumstances of the case."--_Legacy of Iyéyasu_, ut suprà.]

When Matayémon and Kazurna had expressed their thanks for his

lordship's gracious kindness, the governor took his leave and returned

home. At last the enemy's train was seen in the distance. First came

Sakurai Jiuzayémon and his younger brother Jinsuké; and next to them

followed Kawai Matagorô and Takénouchi Gentan. These four men, who

were the bravest and the foremost of the band of Rônins, were riding

on pack-horses, and the remainder were marching on foot, keeping close

together.

As they drew near, Kazuma, who was impatient to avenge his father,

stepped boldly forward and shouted in a loud voice--

"Here stand I, Kazuma, the son of Yukiyé, whom you, Matagorô,

treacherously slew, determined to avenge my father's death. Come

forth, then, and do battle with me, and let us see which of us twain

is the better man."

And before the Rônins had recovered from their astonishment, Matayémon

said--

"I, Araké Matayémon, the son-in-law of Yukiyé, have come to second

Kazuma in his deed of vengeance. Win or lose, you must give us

battle."

When the thirty-six men heard the name of Matayémon, they were greatly

afraid; but Sakurai Jiuzayémon urged them to be upon their guard, and

leaped from his horse; and Matayémon, springing forward with his drawn

sword, cleft him from the shoulder to the nipple of his breast, so

that he fell dead. Sakurai Jinsuké, seeing his brother killed before

his eyes, grew furious, and shot an arrow at Matayémon, who deftly cut

the shaft in two with his dirk as it flew; and Jinsuké, amazed at this

feat, threw away his bow and attacked Matayémon, who, with his sword

in his right hand and his dirk in his left, fought with desperation.

The other Rônins attempted to rescue Jinsuké, and, in the struggle,

Kazuma, who had engaged Matagorô, became separated from Matayémon,

whose two retainers, Busuké and Magohachi, bearing in mind their

master's orders, killed five Rônins who had attacked Kazuma, but were

themselves badly wounded. In the meantime, Matayémon, who had killed

seven of the Rônins, and who the harder he was pressed the more

bravely he fought, soon cut down three more, and the remainder dared

not approach him. At this moment there came up one Kanô Tozayémon, a

retainer of the lord of the castle-town, and an old friend of

Matayémon, who, when he heard that Matayémon was this day about to

avenge his father-in-law, had seized his spear and set out, for the

sake of the good-will between them, to help him, and act as his

second, and said--

"Sir Matayémon, hearing of the perilous adventure in which you have

engaged, I have come out to offer myself as your second."

Matayémon, hearing this, was rejoiced, and fought with renewed vigour.

Then one of the Rônins, named Takénouchi Gentan, a very brave man,

leaving his companions to do battle with Matayémon, came to the rescue

of Matagorô, who was being hotly pressed by Kazuma, and, in attempting

to prevent this, Busuké fell covered with wounds. His companion

Magohachi, seeing him fall, was in great anxiety; for should any harm

happen to Kazuma, what excuse could he make to Matayémon? So, wounded

as he was, he too engaged Takénouchi Gentan, and, being crippled by

the gashes he had received, was in deadly peril. Then the man who had

come up from the castle-town to act as Matayémon's second cried out--

"See there, Sir Matayémon, your follower who is fighting with Gentan

is in great danger. Do you go to his rescue, and second Sir Kazuma: I

will give an account of the others!"

"Great thanks to you, sir. I will go and second Kazuma."

So Matayémon went to help Kazuma, whilst his second and the infantry

soldiers kept back the surviving Rônins, who, already wearied by their

fight with Matayémon, were unfit for any further exertion. Kazuma

meanwhile was still fighting with Matagorô, and the issue of the

conflict was doubtful; and Takénouchi Gentan, in his attempt to rescue

Matagorô, was being kept at bay by Magohachi, who, weakened by his

wounds, and blinded by the blood which was streaming into his eyes

from a cut in the forehead, had given himself up for lost when

Matayémon came and cried--

"Be of good cheer, Magohachi; it is I, Matayémon, who have come to the

rescue. You are badly hurt; get out of harm's way, and rest yourself."

Then Magohachi, who until then had been kept up by his anxiety for

Kazuma's safety, gave in, and fell fainting from loss of blood; and

Matayémon worsted and slew Gentan; and even then, although be had

received two wounds, he was not exhausted, but drew near to Kazuma and

said--

"Courage, Kazuma! The Rônins are all killed, and there now remains

only Matagorô, your father's murderer. Fight and win!"

The youth, thus encouraged, redoubled his efforts; but Matagorô,

losing heart, quailed and fell. So Kazuma's vengeance was fulfilled,

and the desire of his heart was accomplished.

The two faithful retainers, who had died in their loyalty, were buried

with great ceremony, and Kazuma carried the head of Matagorô and

piously laid it upon his father's tomb.

So ends the tale of Kazuma's revenge.

I fear that stories of which killing and bloodshed form the principal

features can hardly enlist much sympathy in these peaceful days.

Still, when such tales are based upon history, they are interesting to

students of social phenomena. The story of Kazuma's revenge is mixed

up with events which at the present time are peculiarly significant: I

mean the feud between the great Daimios and the Hatamotos. Those who

have followed the modern history of Japan will see that the recent

struggle, which has ended in the ruin of the Tycoon's power and the

abolition of his office, was the outburst of a hidden fire which had

been smouldering for centuries. But the repressive might had been

gradually weakened, and contact with Western powers had rendered still

more odious a feudality which men felt to be out of date. The

revolution which has ended in the triumph of the Daimios over the

Tycoon, is also the triumph of the vassal over his feudal lord, and is

the harbinger of political life to the people at large. In the time of

Iyéyasu the burden might be hateful, but it had to be borne; and so it

would have been to this day, had not circumstances from without broken

the spell. The Japanese Daimio, in advocating the isolation of his

country, was hugging the very yoke which he hated. Strange to say,

however, there are still men who, while they embrace the new political

creed, yet praise the past, and look back with regret upon the day

when Japan stood alone, without part or share in the great family of

nations.

note.--_Hatamoto_. This word means "_under the flag_." The Hatamotos

were men who, as their name implied, rallied round the standard of the

Shogun, or Tycoon, in war-time. They were eighty thousand in number.

When Iyéyasu left the Province of Mikawa and became Shogun, the

retainers whom he ennobled, and who received from him grants of land

yielding revenue to the amount of ten thousand kokus of rice a year,

and from that down to one hundred kokus, were called _Hatamoto_. In

return for these grants of land, the Hatamotos had in war-time to

furnish a contingent of soldiers in proportion to their revenue. For

every thousand kokus of rice five men were required. Those Hatamotos

whose revenue fell short of a thousand kokus substituted a quota of

money. In time of peace most of the minor offices of the Tycoon's

government were filled by Hatamotos, the more important places being

held by the Fudai, or vassal Daimios of the Shogun. Seven years ago,

in imitation of the customs of foreign nations, a standing army was

founded; and then the Hatamotos had to contribute their quota of men

or of money, whether the country were at peace or at war. When the

Shogun was reduced in 1868 to the rank of a simple Daimio, his revenue

of eight million kokus reverted to the Government, with the exception

of seven hundred thousand kokus. The title of Hatamoto exists no more,

and those who until a few months ago held the rank are for the most

part ruined or dispersed. From having been perhaps the proudest and

most overbearing class in Japan, they are driven to the utmost straits

of poverty. Some have gone into trade, with the heirlooms of their

families as their stock; others are wandering through the country as

Rônins; while a small minority have been allowed to follow the fallen

fortunes of their master's family, the present chief of which is known

as the Prince of Tokugawa. Thus are the eighty thousand dispersed.

The koku of rice, in which all revenue is calculated, is of varying

value. At the cheapest it is worth rather more than a pound sterling,

and sometimes almost three times as much. The salaries of officials

being paid in rice, it follows that there is a large and influential

class throughout the country who are interested in keeping up the

price of the staple article of food. Hence the opposition with which a

free trade in rice has met, even in famine times. Hence also the

frequent so-called "Rice Riots."

The amounts at which the lands formerly held by the chief Daimios, but

now patriotically given up by them to the Mikado, were assessed, sound

fabulous. The Prince of Kaga alone had an income of more than one

million two hundred thousand kokus. Yet these great proprietors were,

latterly at least, embarrassed men. They had many thousand mouths to

feed, and were mulcted of their dues right and left; while their mania

for buying foreign ships and munitions of war, often at exorbitant

prices, had plunged them heavily in debt.