The Founder Of Yedo And Of Modern Feudalism

The death of the peasant premier left Iyeyasu, the second in ability of

Nobunaga's great generals, as the rising power in Japan. Hideyoshi, in

the hope of preserving the rule in his own family, had married his son,

a child of six, to Iyeyasu's granddaughter, and appointed six ministers

to act as his guardians. He did not count, in cherishing this illusory

hope, on the strength of human ambition. Nor did he give thought to the

bitter disgust with which the haughty lords and nobles had yielded to

the authority of one whom they regarded as an upstart. The chances of

the child's coming to power were immeasurably small.



In truth, the death of the strong-willed premier had thrown Japan open

to anarchy. The leaders who had returned from the Corean war, flushed

with victory, were ambitious for power, and the thousands of soldiers

under their command were eager for war and spoils. Hidenobu, a nephew of

Nobunaga, claimed the succession to his uncle's position. The five

military governors who had been appointed by the late premier were

suspicious of Iyeyasu, and took steps to prevent him from seizing the

vacated place. The elements of anarchy indeed were everywhere abroad,

there was more than one aspirant to the ruling power, and armies began

to be raised.



Iyeyasu keenly watched the movements of his enemies. When he saw that

troops were being recruited, he did the same. Crimination and

recrimination went on, skirmishes took place in the field, the citadel

of Ozaka was successively taken and retaken by the opposing parties, the

splendid palace of Hideyoshi at Fushimi was given to the flames, and at

length the two armies came together to settle in one great battle the

fate of Japan.



The army of the league against Iyeyasu had many leaders, including the

five governors, most of the generals of the Corean war, and the lords

and vassals of Hideyoshi. Strong as it was, one hundred and eighty

thousand in all, it was moved by contrary purposes, and unity of counsel

was lacking among the chiefs. The army of Iyeyasu, while far weaker, had

but one leader, and was inspired by a single purpose.



On the 1st of October, 1600, the march began, over the great highway

known as the Tokaido. The white banner of Iyeyasu was embroidered with

hollyhocks, his standard a golden fan. "The road to the west is shut,"

prophesied the diviners. "Then I shall knock till it opens," the bold

leader replied.



As they marched onward, a persimmon (ogaki in Japanese) was offered

him. He opened his hand to receive it, saying, as it fell into his palm,

"Ogaki has fallen into my hand." (The significance of this remark lies

in the fact that the camp of the league lay around the castle of Ogaki).



Learning of the near approach of Iyeyasu's force, the opposing army

broke camp and marched to meet him through a sharp rain that wet them to

the skin. Their chosen field of battle, Sekigahara ("plain of the

barrier") by name, is in Omi, near Lake Biwa. It is an expanse of open,

rolling ground, bisected by one of the main roads between Tokio and

Kioto and crossed by a road from Echizen. On this spot was to be fought

one of the greatest battles Japan had ever known, whose result was

destined to settle the fate of the empire for two hundred and fifty

years.



In the early morning of the eventful day one of the pickets of Iyeyasu's

host brought word that the army of the league was in full march from the

castle of Ogaki. This important news was soon confirmed by others, and

the general joyfully cried, "The enemy has indeed fallen into my hand."

Throwing aside his helmet, he knotted a handkerchief over his forehead,

saying that this was all the protection he should need in the coming

battle.



His army was seventy-five thousand strong. That opposed to him exceeded

his in strength by more than fifty thousand men. But neither as yet knew

what they had to encounter, for a fog lay heavy on the plain, and the

two armies, drawn up in battle array, were invisible to each other. To

prevent surprise, Iyeyasu sent in front of his army a body of guards

bearing white flags, to give quick warning of an advance.



At length, at eight o'clock, the fog rose and drifted away, revealing

the embattled hosts. Hardly had it vanished before the drums beat their

battle peal and the martial conchs sounded defiance, while a shower of

arrows from each army hurtled through the opposing ranks. In a short

time the impatient warriors met in mid field, and sword and spear began

their deadly work.



The great weight of the army of the league at first gave it the

advantage, and for hours the result was in doubt, though a corps of the

league forces deserted to the ranks of Iyeyasu. At length unity and

discipline began to prevail, the intrepidity of Iyeyasu and his skill in

taking advantage of every error of his enemy giving confidence to his

men. By noon they were bearing back the foe. Ordering up the reserves,

and bidding the drummers and conch-blowers to sound their most

inspiriting appeal, Iyeyasu gave order for the whole army to charge.



Before the impetuous onset that followed, the enemy wavered, broke, and

fled, followed in hot pursuit by the victorious host. And now a

frightful scene began. Thousands of heads of the flying were cut off by

the keen-edged blades of their pursuers. Most of the wounded and many of

the unhurt killed themselves upon the field, in obedience to the

exaggerated Japanese sense of honor. The defeat became a butchery. In

Japanese battles of the past quarter was a mercy rarely craved or

granted, and decapitation the usual mode of death when the sword could

be brought into play, so that the triumph of the victors was usually

indicated by the dimensions of the ghastly heap of heads. In this

frightful conflict the claim was made by the victors (doubtless an

exaggeration) that they had taken forty thousand heads of the foe,

while their own loss was only four thousand. However that be, a great

mound of heads was made, one of many such evidences of slaughter which

may still be seen in Japan.



Throughout the battle a knotted handkerchief was the only defence of

Iyeyasu's head. The victory won, he called for his helmet, which he put

on, carefully tying the strings. As all looked on with surprise at this

strange action, he, with a smile, repeated to them an old Japanese

proverb, "After victory, knot the cords of your helmet."



It was a suggestion of vigilance wisely given and alertly acted upon.

The strongholds of the league were invested without delay, and one by

one fell into the victors' hands. The fragments of the beaten army were

followed and dispersed. Soon all opposition was at an end, and Iyeyasu

was lord and master of Japan.



The story of the victor in the most decisive victory Japan had ever

known, one that was followed by two and a half centuries of peace, needs

to complete it a recital of two important events, one being the founding

of Yedo, the great eastern capital, the other the organization of the

system of feudalism.



For ages the country around the Bay of Yedo, now the chief centre of

activity and civilization in Japan, was wild and thinly peopled. The

first mention of it in history is in the famous march of Yamato-Dake,

whose wife leaped here into the waves as a sacrifice to the maritime

gods. In the fifteenth century a small castle was built on the site of

the present city, while near it on the Tokaida, the great highway

between the two ancient capitals, stood a small village, whose chief use

was for the refreshment and assistance of travellers.



Ota Dagnan, the lord of the castle, was a warrior of fame, whose deeds

have gained him a place in the song and story of Japan. Of the tales

told of him there is one whose poetic significance has given it a fixed

place in the legendary lore of the land. One day, when the commandant

was amusing himself in the sport of hawking, a shower of rain fell

suddenly and heavily, forcing him to stop at a house near by and request

the loan of a grass rain-coat,--a mino, to give it its Japanese name.



A young and very pretty girl came to the door at his summons, listened

to his polite request, and stood for a moment blushing and confused.

Then, running into the garden, she plucked a flower, handed it with a

mischievous air to the warrior, and disappeared within the house. Ota,

angrily flinging down the flower, turned away, after an impulse to force

his way into the house and help himself to the coat. He returned to the

castle wet and fuming at the slight to his rank and dignity.



Soon after he related the incident to some court nobles from Kioto, who

had stopped at the castle, and who, to his surprise, did not share his

indignation at the act.



"Why, the incident was delightful," said one among them who was

specially versed in poetic lore; "who would have looked for such wit and

such knowledge of our classic poetry in a young girl in this

uncultivated spot? The trouble is, friend Ota, that you are not learned

enough to take the maiden's meaning."



"I take it that she meant to laugh at a soaked fowler," growled the

warrior.



"Not so. It was only a graceful way of telling you that she had no

mino to loan. She was too shy to say no to your request, and so handed

you a mountain camellia. Centuries ago one of our poets sang of this

flower, 'Although it has seven or eight petals, yet, I grieve to say, it

has no seed' (mino). The cunning little witch has managed to say 'no'

to you in the most graceful way imaginable."



Here, where the castle stood, Iyeyasu started to build a city, at the

suggestion of his superior Hideyoshi. Thus began the great city of

Yedo,--now Tokio, the eastern capital of Japan. In 1600, Iyeyasu, then

at the head of affairs, pushed the work on his new city with energy,

employing no less than three hundred thousand men. The castle was

enlarged, canals were excavated, streets laid out and graded, marshes

filled, and numerous buildings erected, fleets of junks bringing granite

for the citadel, while the neighboring forests furnished the timber for

the dwellings.



An outer ditch was dug on a grand scale, and gates and towers were built

with no walls to join them and no dwellings within many furlongs of

their site. But to those who laughed at the magnificent plan on which

the young city had been laid out, the founder declared that the coming

time would see his walls built and the dwellings of the city stretching

far beyond them. Before a century his words were verified, and Yedo had

a population of half a million souls. To-day it is the home of more than

a million people.



It is for his political genius that Iyeyasu particularly deserves fame.

Once more, in 1615, he was forced to fight for his supremacy, against

the son of the late premier. A bloody battle followed, ending in victory

for Iyeyasu and the burning of the castle of Ozaka, in whose flames the

aspirant for power probably met his doom. No other battle was fought on

the soil of Japan for two hundred and fifty-three years.



Iyeyasu had the blood of the Minamoto clan in his veins. He had

therefore an hereditary claim to the shogunate, as successor to the

great Yoritomo, the founder of the family and the first to bear the

title of Great Shogun. This title, Sei-i Tai Shogun, was now conferred

by the mikado on the new military chief, and was borne by his

descendants, the Tokugawa family, until the great revolution of 1868,

when the mikado again seized his long-lost authority.



Before this period, civil war had for centuries desolated Japan. After

1615 war ceased in that long distracted land and peace and prosperity

prevailed. What were the steps taken by the new shogun to insure this

happy result? It arose through the establishment of a well-defined

system of feudalism, and the bringing of the feudal lords under the

immediate control of the shogun.



Japan was already organized on a semi-feudal system. The land was

divided between the great lords or daimios, who possessed strong

castles and large landed estates, with a powerful armed following, and

into whose treasuries much of the revenue of the kingdom flowed. These

powerful princes of the realm were conciliated by the conqueror. Under

them were daimios of smaller estate, many of whom had joined him in his

career; and lower still a large number of minor military holders, whose

grants of land enabled them to bring small bodies of followers into the

field.



Iyeyasu's plan was one of conciliation and the prevention of hostile

union. He laid his plans and left it to time to do his work. Some of the

richest fiefs of the empire were conferred upon his sons, who founded

several of its most powerful families. The possessions of the other

lords were redistributed, the land being divided up among them in a way

to prevent rebellious concentration, vassals and adherents of his own

being placed between any two neighboring lords whose loyalty was in

doubt. To prevent ambitious lords from seizing Kioto and making prisoner

the mikado, as had frequently been done in the past, he surrounded it on

all sides with strong domains ruled by his sons or friends. When his

work of redistribution was finished, his friends and vassals everywhere

lay between the realms of doubtful daimios. A hostile movement in force

had been rendered nearly impossible.



Below the daimios came the hatamoto, or supporters of the flag, direct

vassals of the shogun, of whom there were eighty thousand in Japan,

mostly descendants of proved warriors and with a train of from three to

thirty retainers each. These were scattered throughout the empire, but

the majority of them lived in Yedo. They formed the direct military

dependence of the shogun, and held most of the military and civil

positions. Under them again were the gokenin, the humbler members of

the Togukawa clan, and hereditary followers of the shogun. All these

formed the samurai, the men privileged to wear two swords and exempted

from taxes. Their number and readiness gave the shogun complete military

control of the empire, and made him master of all it held, from mikado

to peasant.



Such was the method adopted by the great statesman to insure peace to

the empire and to keep the power within the grasp of his own family. In

both respects it proved successful. A second important step was taken by

Iyemitsu, his grandson, and after him the ablest of the family. By this

time many of the noted warriors among the daimios were dead, and their

sons, enervated by peace and luxury, could be dealt with more vigorously

than would have been safe to do with their fathers.



Iyemitsu suggested that all the daimios should make Yedo their place of

residence for half the year. At first they were treated as guests, the

shogun meeting them in the suburbs and dealing with them with great

consideration. But as the years went on the daimios became more and more

like prisoners on parole. They were obliged to pay tribute of respect to

the shogun in a manner equivalent to doing homage. Though they could

return at intervals to their estates, their wives and children were kept

in Yedo as hostages for their good behavior. When Iyemitsu died, the

shoguns had cemented their power beyond dispute. The mikados, nominal

emperors, were at their beck and call; the daimios were virtual

prisoners of state; the whole military power and revenues of the empire

were under their control; conspiracy and attempted rebellion could be

crushed by a wave of their hands; peace ruled in Japan.



Iyemitsu was the first to whom the title of Tai Kun (Tycoon), or Great

King, was ever applied. It was in a letter written to Corea, intended to

influence foreigners. It was employed in a larger sense for the same

purpose at a later date, as we shall hereafter see. Suffice it here to

say that the Tokugawas remained the rulers of Japan until 1868, when a

new move in the game of empire was made.