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This small book with black and white pictures is probably one of the
best books ever written about Samurai. It is my favorite and I
consider it important for anyone interested in Japanese History,
Martial Arts or Samurai.
The reason I consider this book important is that it demonstrates the
beliefs of the warriors themselves, in their own words. You can
see how the warriors thought and what they beleived in.
Everyone knows that if a man doesn't hold filial piety toward his own
parents he would also neglect his duties toward his lord. Such a
neglect means a disloyalty toward humanity. Therefore such a man
doesn't deserve to be called 'samurai'.
-Takeda Shingen
Natsu gusa ya
Tsuwamono domo ga
Yume no ato
Summer grass:
Of stalwart warrior's splendid dreams,
The aftermath
-Matsuo Basho
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JKO_RONIN Senior Member

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IDEALS OF THE SAMURAI: WRITINGS OF JAPANESE WARRIORS
TRANSLATION AND INTRODUCTION BY WILLIAM SCOTT WILSON
EDITOR: GREGORY N. LEE
GRAPHIC DESIGNER: KAREN MASSAD
CALLIGRAPHY: J. BREMS
PHOTOGRAPHY: CLINTON CLEVELAND
!982 Ohara Publications, Inc
BURBANK CALIFORNIA
U.S. Library of Congress 82-60937
ISBN 0-89750-081-4
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The translator and editor would like to express their thanks to the
following for their kind permission to reprint the samurai portraits
which appear in this volume:
The portrait of Asakura Toshikage on page 69 and the portrait of Hojo
Soun on page 77 originally appeared in Nihon no Shozo (ed. National
Museum of Kyoto, 1978); courtesy of Chuokoron-sha, Inc., publishers.
The portrait of Nabeshima Naoshige on page 116 originally appeared in
Dai Nihon Shiryo (ed. Tokyo Daigaku Shiryo Hensanjo); the portraits of
Kuroda Nagamasa on page 138 and Kato Kiyomasa on page 131 originally
appeared in Shozo senshu (ed. Nihon Rekishi Gakkai, 1962); courtesy of
Yoshikawa Kobunkan, publishers.
The portrait of Takeda Shingen on page 94 originally appeared in Sekai
Denki Daijiten, Vol. III (1978); courtesy of The Rev. Naomichi Nakada
of the Jorinji Monastery in Yamanashi and Holp Shuppan, publishers.
The portrait of Torii Mototada on page 123 originally appeared in Buke
no Kamon to Hatajirushi (by Kenichi Takahashi, 1972); courtesy of Akita
Shoten, publishers.
Our thanks also to the staff and management of Japan's National Diet
Library, Division for Interlibrary Services, in Tokyo, for their help
in locating and reproducing these portraits.
W.S.W. & G.N.L.
A NOTE ON THE TRANSLATIONS
To preserve the historical character of these translations, all proper
names have been written in the traditional Japanese manner, with the
family name first.
Dedication
To my children,
Matthew and Michelle,
for their patience
Translation and Introduction by
William Scott Wilson
William Scott Wilson was born in Nashville, Tennessee, in 1944, and
grew up in Florida. He is fluent in modern Japanese and has reading
knowledge of both classical Japanese and Chinese. He currently holds a
master's degree in Japanese language and literature from the University
of Washington in Seattle.
Wilson's interest in Japanese culture was sparked on a kayaking
expedition along the Japanese coast during 1966 as part of an
assignment for National Geographic. He returned a year later to live
briefly in Japan, but became convinced that a thorough under-standing
of its people and culture could only be realized by mastering the
language. He went to the Monterey Institute of Foreign Studies in
California, discovering the inseparable aspect of Japan's warrior
tradition within its cultural personality. Wilson also studied a
Chinese style of kung fu.
Wilson returned to Japan for some intensive research at Aichi
Prefectural University in Nagoya from 1975-77, translating the works of
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, which he eventually published as Hagakure: The Book
of the Samurai (Kodansha International Ltd., 1979). The work is a
revealing discussion of the samurai way of life and represents one of
the most radical aspects of Japanese thought.
Since August, 1980, Wilson has served as a consular specialist for the
Consulate General of Japan in Seattle, heading the Trade Section and
advising the Consul on political and economic matters between the U.S.
and Japan. Wilson is also at work on a translation of The
Budoshoshinshu, a classic work on Japanese warrior philosophy by
Daidoji Yuzan, written in the early 18th century.
Wilson currently lives in Florida with his wife and two children.
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PREFACE
In the spring of 1592, the forces of the once-powerful Takeda clan had
been nearly destroyed. Outnumbered by the enemy nearly ten to one, the
last feudal lord of the clan fled the provincial capital to Mt.
Tenmoku, where he was captured and killed, his once matchless troops in
full retreat. Tsuchiya Sozo, a warrior who had been in disfavor for a
number of years, came out alone, however, resolved to show his
sincerity. With the remark, "I wonder where all the men are who spoke
so bravely every day?" he walked out onto the battlefield to die alone
in combat.
In the late fall of 1944, a young lieutenant in the Japanese navy named
Teshi Haruo was stationed on a small island in the Pacific. One morning
in the early hours his post received word by radio that a huge American
naval force was on its way through to the Philippines, destroying all
Japanese outposts en route. Escape for the lieutenant and his men was
not expressed as a possibility. As Lt. Teshi sat listening to the early
morning rain, his first thoughts were about his uniform: Was it clean?
Had he sincerely shown himself ready to die?
The thread of thought that links men like Tsuchiya Sozo and Lt. Teshi
Haruo is a long one, extending to well before the 16th century, and
forward today as one of the spiritual foundations of the Japanese
people, and consequently of the modern martial arts. It is important to
us, not only for understanding one aspect of Japanese history and
culture, but also for providing a more solid basis for our own
activity—or inactivity—with those around us. Developed by a class that
was to rule Japan for nearly 800 years, and interpenetrating Japanese
life in so many ways, the samurai spirit is an approach to being in the
world that deserves our attention, regardless of what our own
particular focus of interest may be.
Who was the warrior and what were his values? There are many sources to
which one may turn: histories, novels, or even plays and movies. But
these are, essentially, the views of outsiders and, al-though valid in
their own right, do not come from the source it-self. In the ninth book
of the Hagakure, an early 18th-century treatise on the warrior spirit,
this story is given:
The Buddhist priest, Ryozan, wrote down some generalities concerning
Lord Takanobu's battles. A certain priest saw this and criticized him
saying, "It is inappropriate for a priest to write about a military
commander. No matter how successful his writing style may be, since he
is not acquainted with military affairs, he is liable to be mistaken in
understanding a great general's mind. It is irreverent to pass on
misconceptions concerning a famous general to latter generations."
(Yamamoto, 1979)
This is the assumption of this book as well, and the guiding principle
behind the present translations. To get a complete picture of the
Japanese warrior, we must understand how the warrior saw imself.
The materials translated in this book were taken from many textual
sources, listed in the bibliography. All of them, however, can be
found, with some difference in manuscript forms, in the collection of
Buke no Kakun, edited by Yoshida Yutaka, and published by the Tokuma
Shoten. I am greatly indebted to Mr. Yohida's notes on the texts and to
his clear translations into modern Japanese. I would also like to
express my appreciation to Profesors Noburu Hiraga and Richard McKinnon
who instructed me, against all odds, in the various forms of classical
Chinese and Japanese in which the original texts were written, and who
assisted ie by asking questions concerning the texts for which I rarely
eemed to have the proper answers. I am grateful to Akira Takeda, Sally
Rutledge and Colleen O'Zora who also gave freely of their time and
effort in the progress of the manuscript. Finally, a very special
thanks to Marilyn Priestley, who patiently read and re-read parts of my
own manuscript, and whose valuable suggestions aided greatly in this
production. Any and all mistakes are my own.
—William Scott Wilson 1982
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CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
13
THE MESSAGE OF MASTER GOKURAKUJI
35
Hojo Shigetoki (1198-1261 A.D.)
THE CHIKUBASHO
45
Shiba Yoshimasa (1350-1410 A.D.)
THE REGULATIONS OF IMAGAWA RYOSHUN 57
Imagawa Sadayo (1325-1420 A.D.)
THE SEVENTEEN ARTICLES OF ASAKURA TOSHIKAGE 65
Asakura Toshikage (1428-1481 A.D.)
THE TWENTY-ONE PRECEPTS OF HOJO SOUN 73
Hojo Nagauji (1432-1519 A.D.)
THE RECORDED WORDS OF ASAKURA SOTEKI 81
Asakura Norikage (1474-1555 A.D.)
THE IWAMIZUDERA MONOGATARI
89
Takeda Shingen (1521-1573 A.D.)
OPINIONS IN NINETY-NINE ARTICLES
99
Takeda Nobushige (1525-1561 A.D.)
LORD NABESHIMA'S WALL INSCRIPTIONS
113
Nabeshima Naoshige (1538-1618 A.D.)
THE LAST STATEMENT OF TORII MOTOTADA 119
Torn Mototada (1539-1600 A.D.)
THE PRECEPTS OF KATO KIYOMASA
127
Kato Kiyomasa (1562-1611 A.D.)
NOTES ON REGULATIONS
133
Kuroda Nagamasa (1568-1623 A.D.)
BIBLIOGRAPHY
142
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Once I was a gallant with books and a sword .. .
I studied the arts of peace and studied
the arts of war.
I studied the arts of war and studied the
arts of peace.
-Han-Shan
Learning is something that should be studied
broadly. It is, for example, like the beggar's
bag in which everything from leftover meat to
cold soup is stored.
-Hosokawa Yusai
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斌
INTRODUCTION
"When the world is at peace, a gentleman keeps his
sword by his side." —Wu Tsu
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INTRODUCTION
Description of the Translated Texts
According to Japanese mythology, some thousands of years ago the gods
Izanagi and Izanami created the first island of the Japanese
archipelago from a "heavenly floating bridge." This they did with a
spear. From that time there developed a martial tradition that has been
intimately bound up, in one degree or another, with the country's
culture in terms of literature, art and ethics, and is a living
heritage even today.
The way of life and world-outlook of the Japanese warrior is
remarkable, both in the vigor that has sustained him over the
centuries, and his balanced view of the complete man as being both
martial and literate. Understanding what the warrior meant by these two
concepts is important to us in approaching Japanese culture as a whole,
and because that understanding may give us a new position to judge our
own values as well.
Presented in this book are 12 selections of what might broadly be
called kakun and yuikai, clan precepts and "last statements," from the
heads of the Japanese warrior houses to their descendants and clan
elders. They range from literal "last statements," such as the letter
sent from Torii Mototada to his son on the eve of the destruction of
his castle, to precepts meditated upon in the quiet of Buddhist temples
by Hojo Shigetoki, or the dictums of Takeda Shingen put into writing
years after his death. They are all alike in that they represent the
ideals of the warrior class and were written down to help guarantee the
perpetuation of the clan; they are statements from warriors to
warriors, without the approval of other classes in mind. They are,
therefore, vital and sincere.
The purpose of this introductory essay is to take a broad look at the
warriors who wrote and were affected by these precepts in terms of
their origin, their society's perception of them, and the systems of
thought that were their daily intellectual and emotional bread.
This volume covers a period that could be called the "classical period"
of the Japanese warrior; that is, from immediately after the time of
Taira no Kiyomori's influence at court in the late 12th century,
through the Period of the Warring States, to the beginning of the
Tokugawa peace, during which the role of the warrior lost much of its
immediacy. It is during this classical period that the warrior's
activities in national affairs were greatest in scope, and it is mostly
during this time that the genre considered here flourished. Before the
12th century fewer examples of warrior writings seem to exist and, with
the Tokugawa peace, the problems of the warrior class changed and were
subject more to philosophizing and idealization. Throughout the 600
years in question, the formulation of martial precepts was based
directly on experience and was vital to the problem of the continuance
of the clan. During the Tokugawa period, however, military affairs
ceased to dominate the samurai's life, the great warrior houses were
for the most part well established, and the warrior class had to
re-examine its values.
The writers presented here represent a broad spectrum of personalities
and social standing: from the upper-class members of the Baku fu (tent
government) and hereditary lords (such as Hojo Shigetoki and Shiba
Yoshimasa), to the "sudden daimyos" and vassal-generals (like Asakura
Toshikage and Torii Mototada), from men who were energetically involved
in the world of letters (exemplified by Imagawa Ryoshun), to those who forbade thei study of
poetry and Noh altogether (like Kato Kiyomasa). In this way, the reader
may see the values that remained consistent through many generations
and personalities as well as those that changed or were interpreted
from a different point of view.
Finally, it should be mentioned that the texts themselves vary
substantially in style. The Regulations of Imagawa Ryoshun and the
Opinions in Ninety-Nine Articles were, for example, written in a terse
classical Chinese, the latter selection consisting primarily of
quotations of older Chinese sources. The Chikubasho, on the other hand,
was written in a very fluid form of Japanese that reflects the author's
high regard for Japanese court life in both style and content. The
other selections range in language between these extremes, from the
wordiness of Kuroda Nagamasa to the laconic style of Nabeshima
Naoshige. Generally, however, these works were written by men who were
neither uneducated nor unsophisticated, and follow a grammar that is
both readable and remarkably consistent when we consider the dramatic
changes in English over the same period of time. Again, they were
written less to be enjoyed than to be understood and given heed.
Origin of the Warrior
In Japanese there are several terms that approach the meaning of
"warrior," but the closest in usage and feeling is probably the term
bushi (武 ±). Breaking down the character bu (武) reveals the radical (止),
meaning "to stop," and an abbreviation of the radical (戈 ) "spear." The
Shuo Wen, an early Chinese dictionary, gives this definition: "Bu
consists of subduing the weapon and therefore stopping the spear." The
Tso Chuan, another early Chinese source, goes further:
Bu consists of bun (文): literature or letters, and generally the arts of
peace) stopping the spear. Bu prohibits violence and subdues weapons
... it puts the people at peace, and harmonizes the masses.
The radical shi (±) on the other hand seems to have originally meant a
person who performs some function or who has the ability in some field.
Early in Chinese history it came to define the upper class of society,
and in the Book of Han this definition is given :
The shi, the farmer, the craftsman, and the tradesman are the four
professions of the people. He who occupies his rank by means of
learning is called a shi.
This should not be misleading, however, because the shi, as the highest
of the four classes, brandished the weapons as well as the books.
Historically, these shi originated in the late Chou and Warring States
Period as the superfluous landed descendants of nobility—well-educated
and armed, owing allegiance to no one in particular—farmed out to the
provinces because their number over-burdened (or worried) the court.
Bushi therefore seems to have meant a man who has the ability to keep
the peace, either by literary or military means, but pre-dominantly by
the latter. In a book from the Han Period, for example, we find this
entry:
Therefore, the gentleman avoids the three extremities. He avoids the
extremity of the pen of the literary man; he avoids the extremity of
the halberd of the military man; and he avoids the extremity of the
tongue of the advocate.
The word bushi likely entered the Japanese vocabulary with the general
introduction of Chinese learning and was added to the indigenous words,
tsuwamono and mononofu. Its earliest appearance in writing was in the
Shoku Nihongi, an early history of Japan completed in 797 A.D. In a
section of that book covering the year 723, we read:
Again, the August Personage said, "Literary men and warriors are they whom the nation values."
It is important to keep in mind the connotation of the peaceful arts
with this term, for although the bun and the bu were very clearly
contrasted, they were at the same time considered essential qualities
of the superior man by both the Chinese and Japanese. We will see this
distinctly from the Japanese warrior's point of view in these
translations.
The other term used for the Japanese military man was samurai, written
either 士 or 侍 . In Chinese, the character 侍
was originally a verb
meaning to wait upon or accompany a person in the upper ranks of
society, and this is also true of the original term in Japanese,
saburau. In both countries the terms were nominalized to mean "those
who serve in close attendance to the nobility," the pronunciation in
Japanese changing to saburai. An early reference to this word is found
in the Kokinshu, the first imperial anthology of poems, completed in
the first part of the tenth century.
Attendant to nobility
Ask for your master's umbrella.
The dews neath the trees of Miyagino
Are thicker than rain.
(Poem 1091)
From the middle of the Heian Period these attendants served as
guardians to the higher nobility and thus carried weapons. As they were
taken more and more from the warrior class, saburai became synonymous
with bushi almost entirely by the end of the 12th century. As time went
on, the word was closely associated with the middle and upper echelons
of the warrior class, and especially those who were involved in
government or clan administration, or those who were direct vassals.
The origin of the men who carried these names coincided with the
development of the shoen (estate) system. This system evolved in the
late centuries of the first millenium as large rice producing estates
were claimed as hereditary possessions of great aristocratic families
and thus became exempt from taxation and other interference from the
central government. At the same time, the ad-ministration of the public
tax-paying domains—still one-half of the tilled land in the late 12th
century—gradually fell into the hands of deputies appointed by
provincial governors. These lower-ranking deputy positions also tended
to become hereditary, and the families who received them often remained
in the provinces, extending their households and private lands. As a
result of these policies, both the shoen and the public provinces
became virtually independent of the central government authorities.
The history of the bushi as a class begins at this point. With the
progressive inability of the central government to maintain order in
the provinces, both the administrators of public domains and the
proprietors of private estates began to develop their own armies to
protect their interests in the ensuing struggles over land and title.
This movement was actually initiated by the court itself as early as
792 with the introduction of the kondei system, a system that recruited
local "physically able" young men, the sons of district chiefs, to keep
order in the provinces, and essentially hastened the abandonment of the
concept of a government militia (Lu, 1974). These defense groups, which
grew gradually between the ninth and 12th centuries, tended to be
organized along family lines, taking in non-related members of the
agricultural community as ke'nin (house men) as time went on. As they
grew in strength they were often able to discard the aristocratic
absentee landlords of the manors they "protected." The need for
legitimacy was fulfilled in the lineage of their leaders who were, if
not the descendants of the ancient aristocratic uji (clans predating
the origin of the warrior class), were descendants of the imperial line
itself.
Thus, the Japanese bushi were reminiscent of the Chinese shi who had
flourished centuries before. Aristocratic by birth, they were not
uneducated; being landholders or administrators of estates and often
whole provinces, they had income to support the armory and horses
necessary to the warrior class.
Eventually, the civil government lost control not only of the
provinces, but of the capital itself. In 1156, a succession dispute
called the Hogen Disturbance broke out between imperial princes, and
leaders of the two major bushi clans, the Taira and Minamoto, were
called upon to back one pretender or another. The result of the clash
was the temporary emergence of the Taira and eclipse of the Minamoto,
but more importantly, the beginning of warrior rule: Taira Kiyomori,
the head of his clan, not only took military control of Kyoto, but also
began to dominate the court as well. The Taira in turn were crushed in
1185 by a re-emergence of the Minamoto, and with this event bushi rule
became complete. The leader of the Minamoto forces, Yoritomo,
established the bakufu. This organization in one form or another would
be the basic government apparatus in Japan for the next 700 years.
The new warrior government strengthened its already powerful position
through economic means. With the defeat of Taira, Yoritomo was able to
claim extensive holdings expropriated from the defeated enemy, many of
which he used as rewards, either as private estates or administrative
appointments, for those who had supported him. This action broadened
the warriors' economic base considerably, and created a vassalage for
Yoritomo and later the bakufu in general. The warrior was now entirely
in control.
The image of the aristocratic warrior described in the early chronicles
tells only part of the story. Although many of its leaders came from
aristocratic or even imperial lineage, the ranks of the samurai class
were bolstered by the low class ashigaru (foot soldier), who did not
share the cultural background or economic means of his betters. Still,
some of these men and their families came up through the ranks rewarded
for ability or feats of courage. They became, if not aristocrats,
upper-class warriors and generals. This phenomenon was most pronounced
during the Warring States Period, and the extreme example would be that
of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who rose from a very low estate to be the most
powerful ruler in the country. Ironically, this was the same man who,
beginning with the famous "sword hunt" of 1588 and through an edict in
1591, closed the social mobility by which he and others had risen,
enclosing Japanese society within the four classes of warriors,
farmers, artisans and merchants.
Finally, it was the warrior class that in large part carried on the
cultural heritage received from the fading court aristocracy. From the
time of Taira, the temptation to stay in the capital and dally in
literary or other cultural affairs had been detrimental to the clan's
survival and even to the warrior class' ruling position, and the
various leaders were able to deal with this problem with varying
degrees of success. At least some cultural attainment was considered
important by almost all of the great warrior leaders, and a rise in the
power or social status of a warrior or clan was usually accompanied by
a corresponding effort to attain similar heights in the world of
culture. The examples of the castle towns at Ichijogatani and Odawara
built by the Asakura and the later Hojo demonstrate this tendency to a
remarkable degree. Under this impetus and the image of the correct
balance of bun and bu, the ideal of the scholar-warrior would survive
even after the battles were long over. It would be a mistake, however,
to think that all samurai were lettered. For although a more democratic
education among the warriors gained momentum as time went on, it had
certainly not been fully realized—despite the social position of the
class as a whole—even by the late 17th century.
The View of the Warrior in Literature
The character of the warrior appears throughout the literature of Japan
and studying this literature makes it possible to examine the warrior
as he was seen through the eyes of his contemporary observers.
The warrior first appears in the Kojiki, Japan's oldest extant book,
compiled in 712 by a learned aristocrat as a sort of national history
of the Yamato Court, and reaches back to the earliest memories of the
Japanese people. It may be mentioned in passing that the first emperor
recorded by the Kojiki was named Jimmu (神武), or Divine Warrior,
supposed to have flourished around the seventh century, B.C. Although
the chapters concerned with Emperor Jimmu deal in part with his
military conquests, it is the accounts of his descendant, Yamato
Takeru, or the Brave of Yamato, that we are given the picture of the
individual warrior and his character.
Diction in the Kojiki and elsewhere indicates that Yamato Takeru may
have been considered as an emperor himself, but he is usually regarded
as the brave and somewhat wild son of the Emperor Keiko, and the
pacifier of "the unruly dieties and unsubmissive people" of the East
and West (Philippi, 1968). Although he began his career in the signal
manner of slaughtering his elder brother as he went to the privy,
Yamato Takeru spent his life traveling the length and breadth of the
country in military con-quests at his father's command. Though rough
and cunning in his dealings with the enemy, he is given sympathetic
treatment in the Kojiki, portrayed as a filial son lamenting his own
father's distance and, perhaps, fear of him. On his way to conquering
the tribes of the East, he says to his aunt:
"Is it because the emperor wishes me to die soon? Why did he dispatch
me to attack the evil people of the West? Then when I came back, why
did he dispatch me once more after only a short while, without giving
me troops, to subdue the evil people of .. . the East? In view of all
of this, he must wish me to die soon."
Thus saying, he lamented and cried. (Philippi, 1968)
The Kojiki, moreover, assigns to him the composition of several poems.
Upon the slaying of Izumo Takeru (after tricking him into wearing a
bladeless sword) he recites:
The many-clouds-rising
Izumo Takeru
Wears a Sword
With many vines wrapped around it,
But no blade inside, alas.
Other poems are addressed to loved ones, his homeland, and even a pine
tree, but his last poem, composed as he lay dying, attests to his
martial calling:
Next to the maiden's
Sleeping place
I left
The sabre, the sword—
Alas, that sword.
a poem prophetic of the high regard to be given the Japanese sword in a much later age.
Yamato Takeru may be considered the rough ideal of the Japanese warrior
to come. He is sincere and loyal, slicing up his father's enemies "like
melons," unbending and yet not unfeeling, as can be seen in his laments
for lost wives and homeland, and in his willingness to combat the enemy
alone. Most important, his portrayal in the Kojiki indicates that the
ideal of harmonizing the literary with the martial may have been an
early trait of Japanese civilization, appealing to the Japanese long
before its introduction from Confucian China.
Whether the depiction of Yamato Takeru is a close replica of the
warrior in first-century Japan, a creation of eighth-century
aristocrats, or some combination of the two, is a matter of conjecture.
What is certain is that by the end of the tenth century, military
personnel were no longer considered fit subjects for literature by the
court, at least at any length. While officers of the palace guard and
capital police were elected from the aristocratic circles, these posts
were no more than formalities and those who filled them "would have
been incredulous and horrified if the Ministry (of War) had asked them
to perform any military duties" (Morris, 1969).
The real warrior was
indelibly connected with the provinces, and those who lived in the
provinces were considered barbarians. The city of Heian-kyo was the
center of all things that mattered, and for most of the people who
lived there the appointment of a post at any distance from the capital
was considered a misfortune.
This was certainly the prevailing attitude at the time of Lady
Murasaki, the author of the Tale of Genji, Japan's oldest novel. Her
unflattering description of Tayu no Gen, the Lord-Lieutenant of
Tsukushi, was apparently typical of the regard in which even the
highest-ranking military men were held. Beyond having "the power (which
he frequently exercised) of assuming the most repulsively ferocious
expression," his style of calligraphy—the art that was considered above
all others to manifest breeding in Heian times—"was not an agreeable
one, being very tortuous and affected" (Waley, 1935).
He is generally
dismissed as a "coarse and unscrupulous barbarian," and Tamarazura, the
sad object of his affections, is lamented as "being wasted in this
barbarous and sequestered land," which in this case happened to be
Kyushu but could just as easily have been a short distance outside the
Heiankyo city limits.
At any rate, the contempt of the courtiers for the warrior is rendered
conspicuous in the Tale of Genji by the absence of nearly any mention
of him at all. The courtiers' feelings are ironically put into the very
mouth of Tayu no Gen, and his own words perhaps summarize their
prejudices most clearly. After "a long period of meditation" he has
produced a poem judged favorable only by on to say:
"I expect you look upon me as a very uncultivated, provincial person.
And so I should be if I were at all like the other people around here.
But I've been very fortunate; you would not find many men even at the
City who have had a better education than I. You'd be making a great
mistake if you set me down as a plain, countrified sort of man. As a
matter of fact there's nothing I have not studied." He would very much
have liked to try his hand at a second poem; but his stock of ideas was
exhausted and he was obliged to take leave. (Waley, 1935)
The judgment passed on warriors like Tayu no Gen would not always
remain so harsh and ironic. Centuries of stale court life gradually
introduced a transition period in which the warrior, if not admired
outright, was looked upon with wonder and fascination for his abilities
and way of life.
We can find a hint of this new outlook in the Konjaku Monogatari, a
collection of tales on varying subjects compiled, shaky tradition has
it, sometime after 1106 from the collected stories of one Minamoto
Takakuni, a member of the court. In the 25th chapter of this collection
are stories relating the character and deeds of the rising bushi class,
and one of them, though rather long, is worth relating here in full:
A long time ago there was a warrior named Minamoto no Yorinobu Asson,
who was the former governor of Kawachi. Hearing that there was a man in
Azuma who had an excellent horse, he dispatched a servant there to ask
for it. The owner found it difficult to refuse this request, and
commended the horse to Yorinobu's care. On the way back to the capital
there was a horse thief who saw this animal and, being struck with
avarice, made up his mind to steal it. Although he followed the party
secretly during their progress up to the capital, the warriors who
accompanied the horse were not negligent at all; and the thief, unable
to obtain it on the way, approached the city, too. The horse, on its
arrival, was put into Yorinobu's stables.
About this time, Yorinobu's son Yoriyoshi, was informed that they had
just brought up a good horse from Azuma to his father's place.
Yoriyoshi thought, "That horse will probably be handed over to somebody
of no account. Before that happens, I'll go over and look at it, and,
if it really is a good one, ask for it myself." And he went to his
father's house.
Though there was heavy rainfall, Yoriyoshi was unhampered by it in his
desire for the horse and went on through the night. ... His father
thought that he had heard about the arrival of the horse and had come
to ask for it, but before Yoriyoshi said anything, Yorinobu said, "I
have heard that a horse arrived today from Azuma, but have not yet seen
it. Its former owner has said that it is a good one. As tonight is
dark, we won't be able to see a thing; so tomorrow morning take a look,
and if it strikes your fancy, take it right away." Yoriyoshi was glad
that this was said before he made his request, and replied, "Well, then
tonight I'll stay here, and tomorrow take a look," and stayed over.
During the evening they talked and, as the night grew late, the father
went to sleep and Yoriyoshi also laid down beside him.
During this time, the sound of rain falling continued incessantly. In
the middle of the night, taking advantage of the gloom of the rain, the
horse thief made his entrance, pulled the horse outside, and made off.
Just at that time, someone yelled from the direction of the stables, "A
thief has taken the horse that was brought in last evening!" Yorinobu
heard this voice faintly, and without asking the sleeping Yoriyoshi if
he had heard it, got up just as he was, tucked in his clothing,
shouldered a quiver of arrows, ran to the stables and himself led out a
horse, put a plain saddle on it, mounted, and set out alone in chase in
the direction of Mt. Ausaka... .
Yoriyoshi, too, had heard that voice, and, thinking in the same manner
as his father, had made no explanations to him. He had slept fully
dressed without loosening his sash, and now he got up just as he was.
Like his father, he shouldered a quiver of arrows and went off in chase
alone toward Mt. Ausaka.
The thief, mounted on the stolen horse, thought that he had now managed
his escape, and, in a watery place at the foot of Mt. Ausaka, let the
horse splash slowly through the water. Yorinobu heard this, and, though
it was dark and he had no knowledge of Yoriyoshi's whereabouts, yelled
out, "Shoot! There he is!" just as though he had made detailed
arrangements beforehand. Before the words finished leaving his mouth, a
bow twanged and, along with the sound of the arrow hitting something,
the sound of empty stirrups could be heard as the horse ran. Again,
Yorinobu said, "The thief has been shot down. Bring the horse back home
quickly." Saying only this, he returned without waiting for the horse
to be brought in. Yoriyoshi then went out to find the horse, and
returned.... Returning to his home, Yorinobu made nothing of the
preceding events, and in fact informed no one, but as it was still
night, went back to bed just like before. Yoriyoshi put the returned
horse in the care of the servants, and he, too, went back to bed.
Later, at daybreak, Yorinobu came out and, without commending his son
on the exceptional way in which the horse had been saved or on the way
he had shot so well, simply said, "Take out the horse," and the horse
was taken out. Yoriyoshi saw that it was truly a fine horse and said,
"Well then, I'll take it, please," and took the horse away. . . .This
is clearly a way of thinking of extraordinary people, and this story
has been told to show that the warrior's mind is like this... .
The story fairly well speaks for itself. In it is revealed the
narrator's admiration and wonder at the warriors' character, their
silent communication and self-reliance, and the way their courage and
bowmanship seemed as normal to them as waking and sleeping. And though
this story was told only 100 years after the time of Lady Murasaki, it
represents a great change in attitude from centuries of courtly
disdain, and prefigures the epic that was to represent the ideals of
the warrior for ages to come.
The Heike Monogatari is one of the longest and most beautifully
composed of the genre called gunki monogatari, or war chronicles.
Although written in prose, it has much in common stylistically with
poetry as it was originally chanted aloud, and at times breaks into the
familiar 7-5, 7-5 pattern of Japanese lyrics. It is epic both in that
it is a poetic narrative recounting the lives of heroic personages, and
that it embodies a nation's conception of its own history and
character. Clearly depicted throughout the Heike Monogatari is the
ideal of the cultivated warrior. This ideal is symbolized in the
character
斌 or uruwashii, meaning a situation of balance and harmony between the exterior, pattern or beauty (文), and the interior essence or substance ( 武). Men who possess this quality will be as accomplished in the world of the arts as in the world of martial skill and courage.
Atsumori, for example, is a young Taira chieftain who is captured while
returning to his abandoned camp for his prized flute, for which he was
said to have great talent. Though only a youth, Atsumori is a perfect
example of the aristocratic warrior, and the narrative describes at
length his elegant appearance:
The warrior wore armour laced with light green silk cords over a
twilled silk battle robe decorated with an embroidered design of
cranes. On his head was a gold-horned helmet. He carried a sword in a
gold-studded sheath and a bow bound with red-lacquered rattan. His
quiver held a set of black and white feathered arrows, the center of
each feather bearing a black mark. He rode a dap-pled gray outfitted
with a gold-studded saddle. (Kitagawa and Tsuchida, 1975)
When challenged, Atsumori quickly accepts and is just as quickly
overpowered by his stronger adversary. He refuses to identify him-self
to the lower-ranking man, however, and tells his captor:
"I cannot declare myself to such as you. So take my head and show it to
the others. They will identify me."
(Kitagawa and Tsuchida, 1975)
Elegant, and yet unwincing at the prospect of death, he he lived and died as both courtier and manly warrior.
Taira no Tadanori, "a man of great strength and quick reflexes," is
another warrior described in the Heike Monogatari who returns to face
danger, in this case for literary considerations. He returns to the
capital abandoned by his clan to visit his old poetry teacher, Shunzei,
and leave a final poem. Later, at the battle of Ichi-no-tani, he is
left by his retainers to meet his end, which he does bravely in battle.
After he is killed, a poem is found attached to his quiver:
When the day is done
I take a tree for my lodge. On my weary way,
Lying under its broad boughs, A flower is my sole host.
And, at the declaration of his death,
Friends and foes alike wet their sleeves with tears and said, "What a
pity! Tadanori was a great general, pre-eminent in the arts of both
sword and poetry." (Kitagawa and Tsuchida, 1975)
The warriors in the Heike Monogatari served as models for the educated
warriors of later generations, and the ideals depicted by them were not
assumed to be beyond reach. Rather, these ideals were vigorously
pursued in the upper echelons of warrior society and recommended as the
proper form of the Japanese man of arms. With the Heike Monogatari, the
image of the Japanese warrior in literature came to its full maturity.
The Warrior's View of Literature
Prior to the 12th century, there is little evidence for the
historical
accuracy of the idealized warriors portrayed in the Heike Monogatari
and other literary works. With the organization of the military bakufu
however, the warrior took a more active—and documented—role in society.
It is from about this time that the kakun and yuikai begin to
appear—statements from the warriors themselves such as those
represented in this book. Many of the selections in this volume deal
with the question of the value of literature to the warrior.
Perhaps the most outspoken of the writers translated here on the value
of cultural attainment is Shiba Yoshimasa (1350-1410). Shiba was
involved in political and military struggles throughout his life, but
still found time for the study of poetry, calligraphy and court
football (kemari). His best-known work, the Chikubasho, was composed in
an elegant classical Japanese style when he was 33, and assures the
reader that the ideal of the cultured warrior did not die with the
Heike Monogatari:
When a man has ability in the arts,
the depth of his heart can be conjectured and the mind of his clan
surmised. No matter how noble a family one may be born into or how
good-looking he may be, when people are picking up the manuscripts for
recitation of chants, thinking over the rhymes for making poetry or
tuning up their instruments, how deplorable it must be to be among
people reciting linked verse and to have to make some excuse for one's
inability, or to sit chin in hands while others are playing music
together.
Or this:
The man whose profession is arms
should calm his mind and look into the depths of others. Doing so is
likely the best of the martial arts. It is fairly certain that most
ordinary people have picked up the Genji Monogatari or Sei Shonagon's
Makura Soshi and read through them any number of times. There is
nothing like these books for the instruction of man's behavior and the
bearing of the quality of his heart. Reading them, one will naturally
be able to recognize a man with soul.
Here is evidenced an almost direct connection
in Shiba's mind between ability in the cultural arts, the depth of
one's heart, the martial arts, and the study of the classical literature of the
Heian Period. Shiba has remarkably little else to say about military matters
in the Chikubasho,
but
rather enjoins the young men of his clan to live ethical lives and to develop
their sensitivities and abilities in cultural refinements.
Another general who stressed cultural
attainment in the life of the warrior was Imagawa Ryoshun (1325-1420). He is
well-known for having studied poetry under the great master of the Nijo school,
the courtier Yoshimoto, and for composing it happily on his way to the military
pacification of Kyushu. After years of campaigning and subsequent
administration of that island, he returned to Suruga, turning his energies primarily to
literary affairs. The following selections from his Regulations clearly manifest Imagawa's
feelings concerning these matters:
It is natural that training in the martial arts is the Way
of the Warrior, but it is most important to put them into actual practice.
First, it is written in the Confucian classics as well as in the military
writings that in protecting the country, if one is ignorant of the study of
literature he will be unable to govern.
Just as the Buddha preached the various laws in order to
save all living beings, one must rack one's brains and never depart from the
Ways of both Warrior and Literary
Man.
Although
it is not written in the fluid language of Shiba Yoshimasa, the message here is
almost the same: a complete man will be a master of both the arts of peace and the
arts of war; when lacking the literary, the military cannot be sustained.
Not
all warriors advocated the study of literature as wholeheartedly as did Shiba
Yoshimasa and Imagawa Ryoshun. However, the ideal of harmonizing the roles of
the martial and literary man
remained present throughout the medieval period of Japanese history. Kato Kiyomasa
(1562-1611), in the following order to all of his samurai "regardless of
rank," endorsed learning but placed strict limits on what was to be
studied:
One should put forth
effort in matters of Learning. One should read books concerning military matters,
and direct his attention exclusively to the virtues of loyalty and filial
piety. Reading Chinese poetry, linked verse, and waka is forbidden. One will surely become womanized if he gives
his heart knowledge of such elegant and delicate refinements. Having been born
into the house of a warrior, one's intentions should be to grasp the long and
short swords and to die.
Concerning
other refinements, Kato had this to say:
The practice of Noh dancing is absolutely forbidden.... A
samurai who practices dancing—which is outside of the martial arts—should be
ordered to commit seppuku
Kato
was a soldier's soldier and a blacksmith's son, probably receiving little
courtly education, thus representing the opposite end of the spectrum from Shiba
and Imagawa in both upbringing and outlook. Though their interpretations of the
concept of learning may differ, it was never doubted by any one of these men
that this ideal was an integral part of the warrior's life.
Edited by JKO_RONIN on 01 March 2006 at 3:01pm
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JKO_RONIN Senior Member

Joined: 11 December 2004 Posts: 240
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Beginning in 1600, and lasting for the next 250 years, Japan was at
peace under the administration of a bakufu government. The economy
expanded, and it was perhaps indicative of the times that the shogun
surrounded himself with not only military men and scholars but even
merchants. Under these circumstances many members of the warrior class
found themselves in an environment for which their training as warriors
had left them unprepared, and from the amount of attention devoted in
writings of the times to the question of what is a samurai, it is
evident that it was a period during which the man of arms had to
reassess himself. The bakufu itself was not ignorant of this problem,
and as early as 1615 issued the Buke Sho-Hatto, or Rule for the
Military Houses, which as its first item, stated:
The study of literature and the practice of the military arts,
including archery and horsemanship, must be cultivated diligently.
"On the left hand literature, on the right hand use of arms" was the
rule of the ancients. Both must be pursued concurrently. (Lu, 1974)
Among those who worried about the problems of the samurai was Yamaga
Soko (1622-1685), a member of the warrior class and a student of
Neo-Confucianism. Yamaga was deeply concerned with the warrior's
continued inactivity in peaceful times, and ed to find an ethical
definition of the warrior. In his theory of Shido (a less radical
theory than bushido), he defined the warrior as an example of Confucian
purity to the other classes of society, and as punisher of those who
would stray from its path. To Yamaga, the samurai must become a sort of
Warrior-Sage, and it was toward the perfection of this transcendent
ideal that he directed much of his writings.
This direction of thinking, however, which was typical of the scholars
of the Edo Period in its tendency toward speculation, goes beyond the
precepts considered here. The kakun and yuikai, written largely during
or immediately after times of military unrest, were more homilies than
philosophical statements, aimed not toward the sagehood of the
individual samurai but toward the perpetuation of the clan. Although
the Edo Period lasted 250 years and was a period of warrior rule, it
was a time when the warrior's role was more idealized than realized. As
an era of peace, it perhaps encouraged philosophical speculation; as an
era of doubt, it is little wonder that
the study of jitsugaku
(practical
studies)a study of his true
function—was a major concern of that speculation.
Basic Reading
and Religious Background
Most often mentioned as
suggested reading material in the warrior's own precepts are the Confucian
classics, and more specifically the Four Books: the Analects, the Great Learning, the Doc-trine of the Mean, and the Mencius. Takeda Nobushige's Ninety-Nine Articles, which includes examples of
what was considered proper reading for the educated warrior, lists the Analects of Confucius as one of the principle
texts of study.
Basically a philosophy of
humanism, Confucianism places much
emphasis on education,
rationalism, sincerity of action, and the relationships of people involved in
society, rather than spiritual
affairs or speculation on
life after death. In Confucianism, it is man "that can make the Way great,"
rather than "the Way that can make man great" (Analects, 15:28). Good government is
considered to be founded on virtue and example rather than on military might
or force, and the perfect man is considered a man of virtue rather than profit.
In terms of human relationships, Confucianism stresses filial piety in the
home and fidelity within society at large.
The Analects consists of many short
aphorisms which afford an approach to the core of Confucianism. No doubt its
readers in the warrior class extrapolated their own interpretations of the
Confucian doctrine by selected readings. The following are some selections that
they may have found most attractive.
The
Ways of the gentleman are three . . . in humanity, he has no anxieties; in wisdom, he has no confusion; and
in courage, he has no fears. (14:30)
It also teaches
contentment with poverty and simplistic living:
The
Master said, "Having plain food to eat, water to drink, and a bent arm as
one's pillow ... there is surely also enjoyment in this!" (7:15)
This
is certainly consistent with campaign life. Strict adherence to rites and
decorum are advocated, and courtesy is so esteemed that in the Hagakure we read that the warrior
is respected "precisely because he has correct manners."
The Analects also teaches respect for poetry:
If
you do not study Poetry, you will not be able to speak. (16: 13)
One can see here a hint of
the harmonizing of the bun and the bu.
Confucius, it should be
remembered, belonged to the class of the knights-errant. Su Ma-ch'ien,
in the Shih Chi, has Confucius say:
I have heard that when a man has
literary business, he will always take
military preparations; and when he has military business, he will always take
literary preparations.
The
true gentleman should also have a warrior-like self-reliance based on his own
perfection:
The
gentleman seeks things in himself; the inferior man seeks things in others. (Analects 15:21)
The gentleman is without anxiety and without fear.... When he looks into
himself and finds nothing vexatious, how will there be anxiety, how will there
be fear?
(12:4)
But perfection should be tempered with
humility:
Meng Chih-fan was not boastful. In a retreat, he took up
the rear position. As he was about to enter the gate, he whipped his horse and
said, "It's not that I dared to be the last, the horse just wouldn't
go."
(6:15)
The warriors, whose functions extended into
broader administrative areas as Court rites and ceremonies became empty
formalities, were men who had real problems to solve. As warriors, their
calling was one of life and death; after 1221, their governing duties extended
throughout most of the country. From the late 12th century and
especially through the Warring States Period, men from the bushi class found it
necessary to establish in themselves both the arts of war and the arts of peace
as necessary conditions for the survival of themselves and their clans. In the Great
Learning they found a key to this survival in the Confucian ideal of
self-cultivation, and the connection between the single-mindedness of the
individual and the ruling of the country:
Only by moving with focus can one have stability. Only by
being stable can one have peace. Only by having peace can one be se-cure. Only
in security can one deliberate. And only with deliberation will one be able to
obtain.
And before governing others one must learn to
govern himself:
Those who desired to govern their states would first put
their families in order. And those who desired to put their families in order would first discipline themselves.
Thus, the general measure of the Great Learning is that virtue works on
a vertical slide, and for the warrior this meant moving from the
individual leader down through the entire province. This also applied
to the clan as a whole:
If one family has humanity, the entire state will become humane. If one
family has courtesy, the entire state will become courteous. But if one
man is grasping and perverse, the entire country will be brought into
rebellion.
Vital to the concept of self-control and achievement is the virtue of
sincerity. This sincerity has a sort of transcendent, even mystical
quality, akin to single-mindedness and somehow more connected with the
man whose life is on the line in the battlefield than with the
rank-conscious courtier embroiled in palace intrigues. The warrior
could afford little equivocating, and the principle of sincerity
offered him the way to break through his problems. He was taught to be
as sincere to himself as to others; a policy leading to internal as
well as external honesty, an honesty to one's enemies as well as to
one's allies. In the Doctrine of the Mean we find:
Sincerity is the Way of Heaven; making oneself sincere is the Way of
man. Sincerity hits what is right without effort, and obtains
(understanding) without thinking.
Confucianism offered a sound and comprehensive system within which the
warrior could go about his temporal affairs. Buddhism, on the other
hand, though introduced to Japan about the same time as Confucianism
(the sixth or seventh centuries), was at first of interest only to the
nobility, some of whom admired it more for its pageantry than for its
philosophy. In the 12th and 13th centuries, however, the priests Eisai
and Dogen brought a kind of Buddhism called Zen to Japan that had been
developing in China since the early T'ang Dynasty (618-906). It
required no ceremonies or academic studies, and put extreme reliance on
individual willpower and self-discipline. It was a Buddhism of action
and in-tuition rather than intellectualization, of moving forward
rather than dwelling on the past. This was very attractive to the man
on the battlefield.
Along with the values of self-reliance, asceticism, and
single-mindedness (all of which were shared in common with
Confucianism), Zen laid great emphasis on self-denial, or transcending
life and death as a condition of attaining spiritual salvation. The
warrior's duty, of course, was to fight and die, and in this
transcendent posture, Zen offered him the spiritual training necessary
to carry out his duty unflinchingly.
Zen, however, occupied the paradoxical position of relying on intuition
("not standing on scriptures") and yet teaching a respect for learning
and even acting as its vehicle. Here again, the warrior found the
principle of rugged and manly discipline harmonized with the literary
world.
Not all warriors belonged to the Zen sect of Buddhism, of course, but
it was Zen that ultimately had the greatest effect on warrior society.
Finally, the Chinese military classics should be mentioned, due both to
their immediacy to the warrior's profession and to the allusion given
them in the precepts. Some of these classics may date back as far as
the fifth and sixth centuries B.C., and have long held the respect of
not only military men but scholars and poets as well. Military
strategies for the most part, they were read attentively by the great
Japanese campaigners; among the writers here they are mentioned by
Imagawa Ryoshun and Kato Kiyomasa, and quoted extensively by Takeda
Nobushige. Aside from their purely tactical advice, however, they must
have helped in the formation of warrior attitudes with principles such
as the following:
Therefore, it is a functional military law that one does not rely on
the enemy not coming, but relies on the fact that he himself is
waiting; one does not rely on the enemy not attacking, but relies on
the fact that he himself is unassailable. (Sun Tzu 9:11)
When the world is at peace, a gentleman keeps his sword by his side. (Wu Tzu—Griffith, 1977)
Conclusion
The Japanese warriors responded differently to these various influences
from diverse places in time, circumstance, and personality. Underlying
these differences, however, two basic attitudes remain fairly constant
throughout: that if the advice given is followed, the individual will
gain in character, and the province and the clan will be properly
maintained. More often than not, the assumption is that the latter
depends absolutely on the former. Thus, if the warrior was
encouraged to study poetry or letters or even religion, it was less
from an academic point of view than a pragmatic one; the more
well-rounded and total the man is, the better he will be able to cope
with his surroundings.
"Learning," said Takeda Shingen, "is not only reading books, but rather
some-thing we study to integrate with our own way of life."
As we have seen, a balance of literary arts and the martial arts was
considered ideal, encouraged by Confucianism and substantiated by the
Buddhist scholars. The example of the Court was for-ever before the
warrior, both as an ideal of the glittering world of letters, and as a
warning of the impotence incurred when the sword is put down completely
in favor of the pen. Concerning this dichotomy, Kuroda Nagamasa wrote:
The arts of peace and the arts of war are like the two wheels of a cart which, lacking one, will have difficulty in standing.
How well the warriors were able to sustain that balance may be judged,
in part, by these precepts compared with the lives of their writers.
One may read these precepts, then, from different perspectives. They
may be read as documentary evidence of warrior attitudes in certain
times and places, or from a strictly literary point of view, or again,
as material giving fresh and direct insight into some of the most
interesting men in Japanese history. There is a current running
throughout these readings, however, that bears directly on ourselves
and our own values: the Way of the Warrior is the way to the total man
and the journey to a fuller self. In our own specialized culture, the
scholar and the poet are too often identified with the dove, while the
soldier is depicted as too martial and unfeeling; their camps are
mutually exclusive. The leaders of the Japanese warrior class attempted
to span that gulf. If they did not attain that ideal, they did maintain
and preserve it while living and acting in the world with a broader
point of view than that with which we ourselves might claim.
Edited by JKO_RONIN on 01 March 2006 at 3:05pm
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JKO_RONIN Senior Member

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THE MESSAGE OF MASTER GOKURAKUJI
Hojo Shigetoki (1198-1261 A.D.)
Hojo Shigetoki, the third son of Hojo Yoshitoki, was only
five years old when the Hojo clan became shogunal regents under his
grandfather, Hojo Tokimasa.
In 1223, he became the
Military Governor of the province of Suruga, and in 1230 was appointed the Shogun's Deputy
in Kyoto, an
office he filled until 1247. With the defeat of the rival Miura clan in that
year, Hojo went to Kamakura
to assist the Re-gent, Tokiyori, in the organization of the bakufu. In 1256 he
shaved his head and became a monk, retiring to the Ritsu-sect temple that he
had established, the Gokurakuji, where he spent his remaining years in
seclusion and contemplation. He had lived through a period that saw the
consolidation of both political and economic power for the warrior class, a
period of relative calm when compared to the Gempei wars that preceded it, and
the revolt of the Ashikaga clan that was to follow
Hojo was known for the selfless help he
provided his higher-placed relatives in the administration of the bakufu, and
for his deep faith in Buddhism. Of his writings, two are extant: The Precepts of the Lord of Rokuhara, a
set of practical precepts he wrote for his son, Nagatoki, in 1247; and The
Message of Gokurakujidono, from which the present text is taken, written
sometime after 1256 for his son and the house elders in general. This latter
consists of 100 articles written in the kanamajiri style, and is basically
concerned with man's moral duties and the ideal behavior for leaders of the
warrior class. The predominant tone of the work is a Buddhist sympathy for all
living beings and an awareness of the functions of karma. Women, children, and
those of lower social standing are to be treated kindly and with regard, and
even the concept of loyalty to superiors is dealt with more in a religious
sense than a Confucian one.
The Message of Gokurakuji-dono reflects the religious feelings that
seem to have been common with the Hojo family, and in this respect is probably
the least secular of all the precepts presented in this book.
The Message Of Master Gokurakuji
To begin with, although it is
presumptuous of me to say so, the relationship of parent and child exists
inasmuch as their bond in a previous existence was no shallow one. Truly, the
impermanence of the world is like a dream within a dream. The men we saw yesterday
are not here today, and the existence of those today will be in peril tomorrow.
Man's fate does not wait his breathing in and breathing out. The sun that rose
in the morning sinks behind the mountain ridge in the evening, and the moon of
the night before marks the beginning of the day. The blooming flowers only wait
for the enticement of the storm. From these it can be seen that transience is
not limited to man. And, although it would at least seem determined that old
men pass away and young men live on, the fact is that death has no respect for
age; and when one truly thinks about it, one cannot rely simply on youth in
this uncertain world. This being so, should we not want to be remembered by
others and cultivate our minds?
Thinking that there are few opportunities to
speak of such things directly, I am writing them down in this manner. One should read this carefully at his leisure as a diversion, and it
should not be lent to others. Should I not be
able to escape the round of birth and death again this time, even though I am
reborn in innumberable successions it will be difficult to meet with you again,
and these writings may be considered as reminiscences of the world into which I
was fated to be born.
First are the articles
one should think over in his heart and put
into practice with his body.
One
should worship the gods and Buddhas morning and night, and maintain a heart of
faith. The gods grant power to a man ac-cording to his respect for them, and he
maintains his fate according to their blessings.
Thus, when coming before the gods and Buddhas,
for better ability in this world one should ask to be granted an upright
heart. In this way he will be esteemed in this world and born in the Western Paradise in the
next, and this is a fine thing. One should understand this principle well.
When
one is serving officially or in the master's court, he should
not think of a hundred or a thousand people, but should consider only the
importance of the master. Nor should he draw the
line at his own life or anything else he considers valuable. Even if the master is being phlegmatic and one goes
unrecognized, he should know that he will surely have the divine protection of
the gods and Buddhas. While in the midst of duties, one should keep this
principle in mind concerning service at the master's court, too To think of receiving the blessings of the master
without fulfill' the duties of court service is no different from trying to
cross rough sea without a boat.
One
should not disregard, even in jest, the instructions of h' parents. Although
there should be no one, as a parent, who would instruct
his child for the worse, the children who use their parents instructions are rare.
Turning
this over in our minds, with our eyes closed, let think this over well. How
sorrowful must be the heart of the lamenting parent who sees his child turning
bad. It could certainly be said that this child is unfilial. And how happy the
heart must be of
the rejoicing parent who sees his child being good. This can certainly be said
to be filial piety.
One
should listen with a calm mind to what one's parents say, even if what they say
is erroneous.
It is
said that when the elderly become enfeebled, they enter their second childhood.
Their hair becomes white, their foreheads become wrinkled, and their hips bend
like a bow of catalpa wood. When looking in the mirror their image has changed,
and one would doubt that they are the same person. The person who comes once in
a great while to visit pays his respects and goes home, and there is truly no
one who comes to stay awhile. The elderly person's mind has certainly changed
from how it was in the past; he cannot remember the things that he has heard,
and forgets what he has seen. He feels resentment in the things he should
rejoice in, and rejoices in the things he should resent. These things are all
in the nature of the elderly.
Understanding
this well, one should first have sympathy with what his elderly parents have
said, and not turn his back on them. When the way passed by one's parents has
been long and their destination at hand, one may wonder how much longer he will
listen to such words as theirs. At this time he should follow their dictums by
all means. This will surely come to one's own mind after he has become old.
If
there is some discord between one's parents and another person, if one will
placate the other party there is nothing that should go awry. If there is
something between one's self and one's parents, he should at any rate follow
his parents' instructions. If he does not, he will have nothing but regret
after the sad leave-taking, and will wish that he had obeyed them while they
were still alive.
When
one is in a place where people are gathered together, and fish, fruit, and the
like are being served, even if he is partaking of this himself he should do so
in a manner that others may have more. Nevertheless, one should not let others
be aware of this.
When
one is serving food, it will not do to serve one's self more than the guest.
Nor should one, with the above in mind, serve small portions. He should serve
the proper amount.
When passing by the quarters of women of high
rank, one should pass by without looking around
repeatedly. In fact, one should not look at all. And one should make strict
instructions to those of lower rank accompanying him that they should not look
either.
There
is error in the midst of conforming to reason, and reason in the midst of
error. One should understand this well.
Error
in the midst of reason is when one is so convinced of his own reasonableness
that he pushes his opinion forward, not to the extent that it will cause injury
to himself, but to the extent that it may cause another man to lose his life.
This is error in the midst of reason.
Reason
in the midst of error is when a man is about to lose his life and one comes to
his aid without disclosing the thousands of mistakes that may be involved. This
is reason in the midst of error. If one will fix his heart in such a way and
assist the world and its people, he will have the devotion of the men who see
and hear of him. Moreover, how much will the joy be of the man who has been
helped? And even if the person helped and the people around him do not rejoice,
one will have kindled the devotion of the gods and Buddhas, and will have
protection in this life and assistance in the life to come.
Concerning
matters of dress, no matter by whom one is being seen he should not appear
shabbily, and even if he is mixing with the lower classes he should dress to a
moderate extent. When often in the midst of humble people, one should not
repeatedly dress splendidly. A person with sensitivity will be prudent in this
matter.
When one of one's companions has been rebuked by the master, one should find it more lamentable than if he
himself had been rebuked. If the master should tell him about his companion's
error, he should mediate well for the man. For even if the master does not agree with him at the time, it will
impress him well later on.
At
the time of merry-making, one should be very prudent about joining in with a
superior who is riding a wave of amusement. This sort of thing is what is
called "a crow imitating a cormorant." No matter how much one may be
letting loose or how drunk he may be, he should be very careful of his demeanor
when he is in the same place as a superior. No matter how raucous one may get,
he should be very aware of his surroundings.
It is
truly regrettable that a person will treat a man who is valuable to him well,
and a man who is worthless to him poorly. Even dogs and beasts will be glad and
wag their tails when someone treats them well, and will bark at and run away
from those who give them rough fare. It is in the value of being born a human
being that—and this goes without saying for those who treat us well—if one is
kind to those who treat him poorly, even they may change their ways. And even
if they do not, he will have the love of the gods and Buddhas, and those who
see and hear of his acts will praise him.
If
one treats men roughly in this existence, he will be roughly treated by them in
the next, for karma is never-ending in all things. And if one would rid himself
of bad karma in this round of existence, he should treat well those who are not
so kind to him. For if one is dealt with kindly by people, he can rejoice in
his previous existence; but if he is handled roughly in this world, his
previous existence is a matter for regret.
When
one buys something, he should say exactly what he wants at once. If it is too
expensive,
then
he should not buy it. To waste so many words is vulgar, and to buy cheaply
would be a crime, for the shopkeeper makes his living by trade.
When one's wife or children are relating some
matter to him, he should listen to them with care. If they say something
unreasonable, he should consider that to be in the nature of women and
children. Moreover, if they speak with reason he should be somewhat impressed
and encourage them to speak in such a way hereafter. One should not look down
on them because they are women and children. Amaterasu Omikami takes the form
of a woman, and the Empress Jingu, as a
queen, attacked and subjugated the Korean kingdom of Silla.
Again, one should not look down upon children, for the god Hachimanr
ruled from the time he was a child. One should rely on neither age nor youth.
But he who reveres the master and protects the people may be called a sage.
When one loses at gambling, he should take the
consequences quickly. When he wins he should not taunt the loser. One should
not dicker over the results of gambling.
When
one is associating with prostitutes and dancing girls, he should not consider
that, as they are such, he can go to excesses and speak in an overly familiar manner with them. One
should act and speak in a simple and
ordinary way. Going too far, one may bring shame upon himself.
When
one is selecting a partner from a number of prostitutes, he should pick one who
is unattractive and whose dress is less comely. A man will lose his heart to an
attractive girl, but an unattractive one will have no partner. Moreover, one's
heart will not be taken in this way. And as this will be for only one night,
one can imagine that the prostitute will be pleased too.
When
one is at a drinking party he should always pay attention to and speak with the
person at the lowest seat. Even if it is with the same wine that one is
drinking, if he will feel sympathy for the man and pour for him, the man will be
very pleased. One should be especially sympathetic with men of low positions.
In their boundless gratification they will place great importance in one's
orders.
In
becoming accustomed to riding in a boat, in knowing the particulars of a
river, in learning to climb a mountain, in heat and in cold, one should learn
all these things with endurance.
One should not talk about the faults of
others, even as a joke. For even though one may think of it as a joke, to
others it may be embarrassing, and this is a bad mistake. If one would joke, he
should joke about things that are a pleasure
to others. One should have restraint and deep sympathy in all
things.
One
should not talk about a woman's faults, no matter how humble of origin she may
be. This goes without saying for women of position. One should use discretion in
talking about people's good points, and should say nothing about their bad
ones. A per-son who has no judgment in these matters will likely bring shame
upon himself. Such things have no merit at all.
By
means of an oar, a boat is able to bear out frightening waves, protect itself
from rough winds, and cross great seas. As for a man who is born into this
world, he may cross it with the help of the gods and Buddhas by means of an
upright heart. Relying on an up-right heart, when it comes time to take the
trip to the Nether World, there should be a path across the Mountain of Death
and a bridge across the River Styx. Such a heart would seem to be a jewel for
which there is no occasion to put away. One should understand this well.
An
upright heart is free of avarice, and a lack of avarice will be an aid in the
life to come. One should have insight into this world of dreams that passes in
the twinkling of an eye.
Postscript
Although
it is certainly shameful of me to go on like this, a man's life has its
determined limit, and one cannot know when his end is coming. Moreover,
concerning the conditions of facing that moment, there have been men who passed
away leaving nothing said, and others who have left this world in the midst of
battle. Man's fate is like the dew, and follows the uncertain wind of life and death. Even one's relationship with his
child is as uncertain as the
simmering of a heat wave. Thus, I have spoken the things that have come to mind
without hesitation.
If
you2 would put these things into effect and the results turn
out poorly, you should blame your father at that time for having spoken evil.
But I feel that putting them into practice would be the highest discharge of one's filial duties.
And even if you do not put them into practice, you should pass them on to your
descendants until the end of time. For among the descendants to come, if one in the midst of a hundred were to put
these into practice, he
might wonder if they weren't perhaps something that had been passed down by one
of his ancestors.
It is
presumptuous for a man's parent to meddle with his children, and you may think
that what I am about to say is exactly that, but I hope that you will sit
peacefully with two or three of your children and read this to them. You should
not think that what has been said here is
simply something handed down to you from
your father. You should understand that these are precepts for men in ages to
come.
Again, as I feel unusually shameful about
these things, do not let them out to other people.
See this as a memento
Of a
person of the past,
And
with one breath intone:
Namu
Amida Butsu.3
Notes
1. One of the most important gods in the
Shinto pantheon, and in this case indicating the 15th emperor of Japan, Ojin.
2Hojo wrote this to his son, Nagatoki, but the
whole was for all the members of Hojo's clan.
3"Hail to the Buddha Amitabha," would
be a close translation. It refers to the Buddha who has the power to save all
beings, and the invocation is spoken at the hour of death to open the
entrance to Paradise. It is repeated
constantly by members of the Pure
Land sect of Buddhism.
Edited by JKO_RONIN on 01 March 2006 at 3:03pm
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