A MURAMASA BLADE

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A MURAMASA BLADE

A Story of Feudalism in Old Japan

BY LOUIS WERTHEIMBER

“The Sword is the Soul of the Samurai”

BOSTON TICKNOR AND COMPANY 1887

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Copyright, 1886, By Louis Wertheimber.

All rights reserved.

University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

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TO MY DEARLY BELOVED SISTER EMILIE In Brotherly Affection THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR

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PREFACE.

This story is an original tale of Old Japan, written almost from a Japanese point of view. It might be translated into that language; and, rendered in book form or told on a street corner by one of the itinerant story-tellers, the reader or listener would think it to accord fully with the traditions of the period in which it is supposed to have been enacted. Whether such a treatment will meet with approval here, it remains for the public to say. I have adhered to it against the advice of several eminent literary friends, to bring the story more into accord with our canons of style and construction. From the standpoint of a Japanese, none of the incidents or situations are in the slightest degree strained or exaggerated, and none of the characters overdrawn. All the historical allusions are strictly true and authentic,—as far as present knowledge on the subject goes,—and have been carefully and painstakingly culled from native chronicles.

The five engravings on copper have been executed by a young Japanese, Mr. Nakamura Munehiro, of Tokio, one of the best engravers in Japan, who also made the original drawings for the same. The other pictures were drawn by Shirayama Dani, a young porcelain painter in the employ of Fujiyama,[xii] of this city. It shows the versatility of Japanese artists, that although the young man had never in his life done anything but porcelain painting, which is done in pure wash, he succeeded without instruction, in a very few days, in making pictures for reproduction. In spite of their sharp outline they are done not with pen and ink, but with a Japanese brush.

LOUIS WERTHEIMBER.

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

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INTRODUCTION.

One day in my wanderings in that quarter of the city of Tokio given up to the habitation of the poorer classes of the community, I stopped to rest for a moment at the lowly hut of an old jinrikisha man whom I had had frequent occasion to employ theretofore. Finding the old man and his wife at home, I sat down on the porch, and after a while succeeded in drawing the couple into something like conversation.

The hut which they occupied was poor enough. It stood on the edge of a small sweet-potato field, and contained only two rooms, the floor of each one covered by two mats of the usual size, and therefore exactly six feet square. The extreme cleanliness of the place—although this quality in general is common in Japan—struck me at once, in spite, or partly on account, of the extreme poverty, which was equally evident. The sliding paper-covered doors, which also served as windows, had been taken out, and I could look through the house, which contained nothing in the way of furniture, not even a pine cloth-chest such as is seldom lacking in the poorest habitations,—nothing, in fact, except a few patched cotton quilts which served for beds, bedding, and covering, rolled up in a[2] corner. The thick straw mats, although their outside covering was in part worn off by use, showed not a speck of dirt or dust, and the bare upright timbers were perfectly white from frequent washing and scrubbing.

Noticing on one side of the room an old sword hanging on two wooden pegs, I asked to be allowed to look at it, and it was rather hesitatingly, as I thought, handed to me. In former years only the samurai, or men of gentle blood, were allowed to wear two swords, and always did so. They esteemed this as their most prized prerogative, and guarded the privilege with extreme jealousy as long as they enjoyed it, which was until the Government prohibited the practice a few years ago. The mere possession of a sword is now free to everybody, and many tens of thousands of these weapons at present serve for fish and kitchen knives, or for other common purposes.

Drawing this one from its wooden scabbard, I found it bright and shining; and being an amateur collector, I could see that it was no ordinary blade.

“Who is the maker?” I asked, almost mechanically, as I usually did when my Japanese friends favored me with a sight of their old family swords.

The answer came very slowly, and not until an inquiring glance showed that I was surprised at not getting it sooner: “It is a Muramasa blade, your honor.”

“A Muramasa!” I exclaimed, jumping up in genuine surprise; “and how in the name of Buddha did you manage to get hold of a Muramasa?”

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THE OLD JINRIKISHA MAN AND HIS WIFE.

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My astonishment was natural. I had in the course of years succeeded in making a collection of swords of the best makers;[5] but it was only after a long search, and at an expense which was felt to be considerable even by an ardent amateur like myself, that I had been able to acquire an undoubted and genuine piece of handiwork of the artisan who, with the single exception perhaps of Masamune, was certainly the most celebrated sword-smith of Japan.

“It has been in the possession of my family, your honor, for five centuries and a half,—ever since it was given by the maker who forged it, Senjuin Muramasa, to one of my ancestors at Ise, the place where they both resided.”

The man’s voice, although, as heretofore, humbly polite in its manner, had now a new ring,—something like a tone of cold formality; such a tone, it seemed to me, as might have characterized the voice of a polished Greek slave replying to some coarse word of his brutal Roman master.

There was a pause of a few moments, which the thought of my abrupt rudeness rendered awkward and even painful to me. I was the first to break the silence, addressing him in the language which is used among equals, instead of, as heretofore, employing such terms as are used to inferiors,—a distinction which in Japanese is strongly and definitely marked. I could see by a quick, startled movement, as well as by the play of his features, that the change was deeply felt, and the motive which prompted it appreciated. “I have for years been a student of sword-lore,” I said, “and I know that every Muramasa blade has a history of its own, fraught with numerous romantic and thrilling incidents. This one here must have had its share, with which, under the circumstances, you are doubtless familiar; and I should esteem it a great favor to be permitted[6] to listen to any narrative you may choose to recall, more especially as regards the time when the smith was yet alive.”

I had touched a sympathetic chord in the old man’s heart by this concession alike to his family pride and his love for the sword. It is not easy for a foreigner to understand how completely the sword has entered into Japanese life. Poets and minstrels, warriors and statesmen, lord and vassal, have honored it in word and deed for more than a millennium. To a greater extent than any other agent, probably, it has moulded and shaped the history of that country into its setting of gallant chivalry and self-immolating feudal devotedness, and has written its record on thousands of well-contested battle-fields, in the quivering body of a living book. Only within a few years has it begun to outlive its power; but its renown is imperishable.

The story told by this poor jinrikisha man, as we sat on the porch of his humble dwelling, constitutes but one simple chapter in this wonderful history. It illustrates the spirit which pervaded Old Japan, the veneration which attached to the sword, and the peculiar personal obligations of honor which rested upon all samurai in those feudal times. As the story was related to me, so I tell it here, regretting only that in the process of translation it must lose much of local color and characterization, but hoping that in spite of this it may be found to possess an interest purely its own, independent of the way in which it is now narrated.

JAPANESE SWORD.

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CHAPTER I.

It was in the year of our Lord 1322, according to the Japanese calendar the fourth year of the reign of Go Dai Go Tenno, the ninety-fifth descendant of Jimmu Tenno, and nineteen hundred and eighty-two years from the time when the latter had assumed the title of the “First Emperor of Japan.”

FARM LABORER.

For the first time in its history a general peace, lasting for more than a century, reigned over the land. Guerilla and border warfare, it is true, was still carried on, in a desultory manner, in different parts of the empire; feuds between the daimio of neighboring provinces were no rarities; and the kataki-uchi, the Japanese vendetta, still caused many bloody tragedies to be enacted, and year after year claimed its thousands of victims. All such disturbances, however, originating in private jealousy and personal enmity, had during this period been merely local, without expanding sufficiently to assume a national character, as in former centuries, when one half of the fighting population was constantly at war with the other. During a hundred and two years no organized revolt against the authority of the Shôgun, or rather against the Ilōjō family, who were the real rulers, had occurred. The administration of the latter, both civil and military, was, it is true, excellent in most regards,—a fact which not even their enemies could[8]

gainsay. The success with which they had repelled the invasion of the Tartar force sent by Kublai Khan, with its countless ships and its tens of thousands of warriors, showed them to be brave and skilled in war, while the general prosperity of the empire gave ample evidence both of their knowledge of the country’s needs and of their ability to enforce those measures by which the arts of peace are made to flourish. Farmers tilled their lands free from the harrowing care which beset their forefathers as to whether they would be able to enjoy the fruits of their labor, or whether roving bands would seize the garnered harvest and even force the young and strong to become unwilling recruits among the henchmen and servants attending the feudal chiefs. The advance in commerce, art,[9] and more especially in learning and the polite accomplishments, had been extraordinary, and their regenerating influence had gradually made itself felt in all parts of the empire. Plenty and apparent security reigned everywhere; and yet it was felt and known by those who cared to think and who took notice

of passing events, that the end of this period of tranquillity was inevitable, and moreover even now near at hand. Every coming day might see the smouldering embers of discontent, hitherto concealed, blaze forth into a fierce and destructive civil war.

WOMAN SOWING RICE.

One of the surest signs of the trouble impending was the increased military activity displayed at the court of every daimio. The coming conflict cast its shadow before, not in boisterous speech or loud-mouthed denunciation, but in the[10] training of body and limb to be duly prepared for action requiring physical strength and endurance. Horses were made to learn their paces, swords and lances were sharpened, buckler and shield were burnished, and every armorer’s workshop echoed the sounds of toil from early morning until late at night.

Kuwana, the capital of the province of Ise, could at this period boast of one of the gayest and yet most martial courts in the land. The character of the reigning Duke, who had ruled for more than thirty-six years, was such that although courage, daring, and manly accomplishments could well look for their due meed of reward at his hands, deeds of unjustifiable violence and ill-will found no opportunity to interfere with or check the progress and prosperity of the land.

He was now fifty-five years old, and had become stout and fleshy and—for he loved the wine-cup no less than the sword—gouty as well, and he was frequently obliged to be carried to his pavilion on the field to witness sports in which, not so very long before, he used to participate and shine in a way that few could equal. Traces of his former prowess were still evident in his face and bearing, despite his corpulence and bodily helplessness. There was about him a self-possession, or rather a self-assertion, of manner which appertains only to those who have learned to maintain themselves and their rights in positions of importance and difficulty; and to do this in those times required physical strength as well as qualities of the mind which go to make up leaders of men. His bright, fierce eye followed closely and with evident enjoyment every motion of those among the actors who showed more than ordinary skill;[11] and when any unusually daring feat was performed, his hands and arms worked convulsively, and he swayed himself to and

fro as if to assist with his body where only his eyes could take part.

Ono ga Sawa, as the Duke was called, was feared and held in awe by his neighbors, who in the desultory border warfare in which they had sometimes been engaged, had found that his dare-devil courage was equalled by his astuteness, his energy, and his extraordinary tenacity. By the people of his province, and more especially by his retainers, to whom he was a kind and considerate master, he was honored and respected. He loved boldness and valor, and even in speech he encouraged frankness and openness to a degree rare with those in his position. Of a jovial and good-natured disposition withal, he ever approved of mirth and frolic, and often at the dinner-table bandied jokes with his attendants, and would even bear from those he liked a return in kind.

MYTHOLOGICAL GODS OF JAPAN.

There was only one point upon which it would have been injudicious to speak with freedom in his presence. The old lord had a great veneration for family and gentle birth, for blue blood and for the superiority to which the possession of a long line of ancestors could justly lay claim. He was fond of displaying his genealogical tree, showing his descent from Nakatomi no Kamatari, the celebrated minister of Tenchi Tenno in the seventh century, who himself was a descendant of the royal house of Fujiwara. When excited by wine he did not stop there, but would count back to Jimmu Tenno, the first Emperor of Japan, two thousand years ago; and he was even known at such times to refer to Isanami no Mikoto[12] and Isanagi no Mikoto, the primeval mythological gods of the country, in a way which seemed to show plainly that he considered himself as standing in some sort of relationship with them. Now there was not a scullion in the kitchen, nor a sandal-bearer in the courtyard, who did not indulge in jokes at this propensity; for they all knew that the old gentleman’s grandfather was a common

peasant, who in the wars which followed the accession of the Minamoto family to the Shôgunate, when he was pressed as a soldier, had by personal bravery and native force of character raised himself to the position of a military general. His son, the father of the present lord, had in his early youth been apprentice to a dyer, and from thence had been called to the camp of his parent when the latter began to acquire military glory. But the bravest of the brave military retainers at[13] the court would sooner have faced unarmed a wild boar than breathe a word of doubt or even show a look of incredulity when, as so often happened, the old genealogical tree was taken down and explained to them. Etiquette at that time was not what it became much later,—an element of such importance in the education of every samurai as to curb temporarily the fiercest temper and force the most headstrong passions to subordinate themselves to time and place. The long reign of peace had its softening influence; yet, although threatening talk and angry looks were not as likely as before to lead

to immediate violence, they were strangers neither at the festive board nor in the council-hall. An utter disregard, however, for all rules of society as they existed even then, and a reckless fashion of indulging his passions when aroused, made Ono ga Sawa a man to be carefully humored by his attendants.

An incident which had happened ten years previously was still fresh in the memory of every one. An embassy had arrived from the province of Sendai to arrange a marriage between the son of the lord of that province and a daughter of Ono ga Sawa. All the preliminaries had been concluded, and a grand festival and banquet were being given in honor of the occasion. Toward the end of the carouse, when wine had loosened tongues and conversation had become general, the chief ambassador, perhaps in ignorance or inadvertence, but more probably from a desire to check the feeling of pride with which he had so often been received, essayed a joke about the silk which faced the dress of his host. “You must be a good judge of dyeing, and perhaps have a special[14] receipt handed down to you, to give that ribbon such a rich, deep purple color,” he began; but if he had intended to say more, the general silence which followed this remark caused him to refrain. The sudden cessation of all mirth and conversation struck those present as with a chill, and the laughing

faces of a moment before now showed only anxious looks furtively directed toward their lord.

Ono ga Sawa’s face, though flushed with wine, became overspread with a deadly pallor. The silence of his followers not only prevented him from overlooking a remark which in cooler moments he might perhaps have disregarded, but gave it undue prominence. Before the assembled guests had twice drawn breath he had unsheathed his small sword and aimed a desperate blow at the ambassador. The excess of his fury, rather than a natural shrinking away on the part of his intended victim, caused the weapon to miscarry, only slightly grazing the other’s skin and drawing a few drops of blood; but this was sufficient to enable him to regain his self-control. Those composing the ambassador’s suite had risen with muttered threats and placed themselves behind their chief; while the Kuwana men, who formed the large majority, also rose and surrounded their lord. The latter, however, now perfectly calm, with one glance caused his retainers to resume their stations. Slowly replacing his sword, to show he meant no further violence, but only

half sheathing it, and keeping it firmly grasped, he said: “The only kind of dyeing I understand is dyeing with blood; those spots upon your doublet now show the same color as my ribbon,—the color of blood, the color I love to see whenever honor demands it.”

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THE DUKE’S ATTACK ON THE AMBASSADOR.

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In saying this, his meaning was not to be misunderstood. He showed himself ready to stand by the consequences of his act; yet there was a certain half-conciliatory tone and manner about him of which the other thought best to avail himself. He knew that if the failure of the important mission with which he was intrusted could be attributed to his own lack of discretion—to which in this instance it might be ascribed, although the provocation he had given was certainly a slight one—it would end in his own disgrace with his lord. So, quickly collecting himself, with a laugh as natural as he could simulate, he replied: “You have certainly given us a good practical illustration of what you call your style of dyeing, and if you intended it as a lesson, I will accept it as such from you; although there are very few lords in this kingdom for whom it would be safe or advisable to attempt a similar course of teaching with me.”

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STREET BOARD FOR GOVERNMENT EDICTS.