Japan: From the Japanese Government History

by Unknown

In the Hei-an epoch[1] were accentuated the virtues and vices of the Nara epoch. Buddhism now advanced to an even greater extent than it did then, the luxury and pomp of the court were never excelled before or since, and the control of the administrative machinery by the Fujiwara family became completed. The growth of the Buddhist church was in no small measure due to two remarkable priests, Saichō and Kūkai, both of whom studied in China the profoundest doctrines of Buddhism and gained for themselves a great reputation. Saichō founded the sect called Tendai, and built the celebrated temple Enryaku-ji, at Hiyei-zan, to guarantee the imperial palace against maleficent influences from the northeast. Kūkai founded the Shingon sect, and built the not less famous temple of Kongobu-ji, at Kōya-san. Other new sects were also founded by other priests. The earlier teaching of the identity of Buddha and the Shintō deities was further extended by Saichō and Kūkai, who taught that the Buddha was the one and only divine being, and that all the gods were manifestations of him. On that basis they established a new doctrine the tenets of which mingled Shintōism and Buddhism inextricably. It was owing to the spread of this doctrine that it became a not uncommon occurrence to find Buddhist relics in a Shintō shrine, or a Shintō image in a Buddhist temple, and the names of Shintō deities were confused with Buddhist titles. Buddhist priests wandered everywhere throughout the land preaching their doctrine and founding temples on choice sites, on high mountains or in deep dells.

To this propagandism music lent its aid, for the melody of the Buddhist chants touched the heart of the people. Devotees constantly grew in number. Many of the highest personages in the land spent great sums upon the building of temples; the consort of the Emperor Saga, for example, constructed Danrin-ji, and the Prime Minister Michinaga erected Hōjō-ji. Even in case of sickness, litanies and religious rites took the place of medicine before the science of the latter had been developed, and against all calamities of nature prayer was regarded as a talisman. It is easy to conceive that, under such circumstances, Buddhism came to exercise greater sway than even the ordinances of the sovereign himself. It should not be imagined, however, that Shintō was completely forgotten. Overshadowed by Buddhism as it was, it did not yet lose its sway. Thus we find the Emperor Saga dedicating a fane at the Kamo shrine, and the Emperor Seiwa establishing a place for the worship of Iwashimizu Hachiman at Otoko-yama. Imperial visits to these two shrines were not infrequent. Above all at the celebrated Shingu shrine in Ise, the Shintō rites were kept free from all admixture of extraneous creeds.

From the days of Kwammu downward, the sovereigns in succession encouraged learning. The university in Kyōto and the public schools in the provinces were in a flourishing condition, and many private schools sprang into existence. The patronage of great nobles was munificently exercised in the cause of education. Further, great numbers of students were engaged in compiling not only the history of the empire, but also many other works of a general character, so that learning occupied a high place in popular esteem. But unfortunately the scholarship of the age drifted into superficialities of style to the neglect of practical uses. Writers of verses applied themselves to imitating Chinese poets, and writers of prose thought only of constructing their phrases in such a manner that combinations of four ideograms should in regular alternation be followed by combinations of six—a form of composition known as the Shirokuheirei (four-and-six order). But despite this slavish adherence to valueless forms, a notable literary achievement has to be placed to the credit of the era; namely, the elaboration of the syllabaries, the hira-kana and the kata-kana. The first syllabary ever used in Japan had been the manyō-gana, in which the Chinese ideograms were used phonetically with little attention to their original meaning. But to write a Chinese ideogram for each syllable of a Japanese word involved much labor, since in many cases a single ideogram was composed of numerous strokes and dots. The difficulty was gradually lessened during the Nara epoch by the simplification of Chinese characters to such an extent that only a rudimentary skeleton of each ideogram was symbolically used to represent its sound. The syllables thus obtained were arranged in a table of fifty sounds, constituting the kata-kana. Thenceforth, instead of the pain of committing to memory thousands of ideograms, and employing them with no little toil, it became possible to record the most complex thoughts by the aid of fifty simple symbols. Nevertheless, since the nation had come to regard Chinese literature as the classics of learning, scholars were still compelled to use Chinese ideograms and to follow Chinese rules of composition, so that the cursive forms of the Chinese characters became the recognized script of educated men. These cursive characters possessed one advantage: they were capable of considerable abbreviation within certain limits. Naturally, the facility they offered in that respect was more and more utilized, until at length their forms were modified to comparative simplicity. When the great prelate Kūkai composed, for mnemonic purposes, the rhyming syllabary which comprised all the necessary sounds without repetition, the forms of the simplified characters may be considered to have finally crystallized into the syllabary known as the hira-kana.

The invention of these two systems of kana syllabaries gave a powerful impetus to the growth of prose writing. Many varieties of composition, fictions, diaries, travels, and fugitive sketches, were added to the literature of the time. But as men who aspired to the title of scholar continued to write in Chinese ideograms, the domain of Japanese prose was occupied, almost exclusively, by women. It is recorded of the Emperor Ichijō (987-1012 A. D.) that he boasted that, although his own abilities did not entitle him to wear the crown, his reign was not less rich in talented subjects than had been the reigns of even Daigo and Murakami, historically regarded as the best sovereigns of the whole imperial line. The boast was not unwarranted, for in that era flourished great writers of both sexes, the charm and grace of whose diction have been vainly imitated by later generations. Of these, Mura-saki-shikibu especially attracts attention, on account of her celebrated work, the "Genji-monogatari," a romance in fifty-four volumes. Sei-Shōnagon's name is remembered for her "Makura-no-sōshi," as peerless a production in literary sketches as was the "Genji-monogatari" in fiction.

Even more energy was expended on the production of verses than on prose writing. In the last part of the ninth century after almost a century of the sway of Chinese poetry, the tide flowed once more in the direction of Japanese verses, and they soon engrossed the minds of the noble classes. Beginning with the "Kokinshū," poems compiled by imperial order by Ki-no-Tsurayuki, himself a celebrated poet, no less than seven poetical compilations were made by order of the sovereigns during the rest of the Hei-an epoch, to which were still later added others to the number of twenty-one. The art of versification made a wonderful progress, but the rustic vigor and grandeur of the poems of the "Manyō-shū" gave place to tricks of phraseology and flowers of speech in the later poetry. Nor were poems with many stanzas approved any longer, for it became the pride of the later poets to embody clever wit and hidden charm in the space of thirty-one syllables. Thus poetry was stunted, and literary terms and the speech of everyday life unnecessarily separated each from the other.

As was so clearly reflected in poetry, the rude and unpolished but frugal and industrious habits of the Nara age disappeared as the Hei-an epoch grew older. Instead of vigor and simple strength, luxury and effeminate gaud became the fashion. Society grew more and more enervated and self-indulgent. The metropolis was the center of magnificence and the focus of pleasure. Reference has already been made to the spaciousness and grandeur of the imperial palace. The princes and great nobles were scarcely less superbly housed, every aristocratic dwelling consisting of a number of artistically arranged buildings. There had also grown up among nobles and men of affluence the habit of choosing in the suburbs some spot noted for scenic charms, and there building for themselves retreats on which all the artistic and decorative resources of the time were lavished. As for the imperial palace, however, from the time when it was destroyed by a conflagration (960 A. D.), it suffered a steady diminution in size and splendor, whereas the mansions of the ministers of the crown grew constantly larger and more magnificent, their inmates wearing gorgeous garments of rich brocades and elaborately embroidered silks. Officials, courtiers, and their families emulated one another in the richness of their apparel. When they went abroad, they rode in carriages resplendent with gold and silver. By and by, the active discharge of official and administrative functions began to be despised by the higher classes, military training and the rude exercises of arms falling into especial disfavor. Thus it fell out that the nobles of the court, having abundant leisure, were enabled to devote their time to literary culture, the elaboration of etiquette, and the pursuit of luxurious pleasures. In the imperial court, at pleasant times in the fair seasons, on fine spring mornings or under the soft moonlight of autumn, gatherings were held at which the guests vied with one another in making music and composing poetry. There were also specially appointed festive occasions: as, for example, entertainments in April (third month of the old calendar) when wine-cups were floated down stream; or in February (first month of the old calendar) when young pines growing on the hills or in the fields were pulled up by the roots; or in the fall, to view the changing tints of the maples; the most aristocratic of all these festivities being one in which three picturesquely-decorated boats were launched upon some river or lake and filled exclusively with persons who excelled in some one of the "three accomplishments," namely, Chinese poetry, Japanese poetry, or music. In the reign of the Emperor Uda five fête days were established: New Year's Day, the third of the third month, the fifth of the fifth month, the seventh of the seventh month, and the ninth of the ninth month; to which were also added the festival of the "late moonlight" (13th of the ninth month), and the festival of "the last chysanthemums."

Of games played in-doors checkers (go) and a kind of dice (sugo-roku) were much in vogue; while the favorite outdoor sports were foot-ball, polo, and hawking, together with horse-racing and equestrian archery. At wine-feasts, various kinds of songs, some classical, some popular, were chanted with dancing, and Chinese and Japanese stanzas were composed and sung. From the end of the eleventh century personal adornment was carried so far that even men began to imitate women in the matter of painting their eye-brows and blackening their teeth, much as though they sought to disguise themselves in the likeness of the puppets set up at the festival of the third month. Not inaptly did the wits of the time dub these mummers "lunar courtiers," or "elegants from cloud-land." On such occasions of festival and sport, men and women of noble rank mixed freely, and laxity of morals ensued. The ceremony of marriage had been duly established, but wives still continued to live in their own houses, where they received the visits of their husbands. In short, the gratification of the senses was the first object of the time, and if men thought of anything more serious, it was only the building and endowment of a temple where prayers might be said and litanies sung for the prosperity of themselves and their children in this world and their happiness in a future state.

All these circumstances should be viewed only in conjunction with the progress of the political power of the Fujiwara family. The great deeds of Kamatari and the scarcely less distinguished services of his son Fuhito established the renown of the family, and in the marriage of the Emperor Shōmu with a daughter of Fuhito we have the first instance of a procedure which afterward became common, namely the elevation of a subject to the position of imperial consort. A daughter of another Fujiwara, Fuyutsugu, became the consort of the Emperor Nimmyō, and bore him a son who afterward ascended the throne as Montoku. Thus Fuyutsugu became the reigning sovereign's grandfather on the mother's side, and the Fujiwara family occupied a position of transcendent power. This emperor married the daughter of Yoshifusa, his mother's elder brother, and had by her a son, who when only eight months old, was declared heir apparent, and ascended the throne in his ninth year under the name of Seiwa, so that in two succeeding generations one of the sovereign's grandfathers was a Fujiwara. Nor had there been another instance of the scepter coming into the hands of such a young ruler. From Yoshifusa, also, began the custom of appointing a Fujiwara to the post of dajō daijin (chief minister of state), a post which not only was the highest and most respected under the sovereign, but also as a rule had been reserved for an imperial prince of unusual virtue and ability. Failing such a candidate, it had even been left vacant. Furthermore, owing to the extreme youth of the Emperor Seiwa, his grandfather Yoshifusa was appointed regent. The title of regent (sesshō) dates from that time. The imperial authority now passed virtually into the hands of the Fujiwara family. Seiwa abdicated after a reign of twenty-one years, and was succeeded by Yōzei, then in his tenth year only, Mototsune, adopted son of Yoshifusa, holding the offices of chief minister of state and regent. As the emperor grew older, he became addicted to pleasure and gave evidence of vicious tendencies.

Mototsune, having taken counsel of all the ministers, deposed the sovereign and placed Kōkō on the throne in his stead. This was the first instance of an emperor being dethroned by a subject, but evil as such an act was in itself, its motive in the case of Mototsune being untainted by selfish ambition, he has not incurred censure either from the men of his time or from historians. The Emperor Kōkō, being fifty-six years of age when he ascended the throne, Mototsune resigned the regency, but the sovereign was pleased to make a special rule that all affairs of state should be conveyed to himself through the ex-regent. The latter's office was consequently called kwampaku (signifying one who receives reports prior to their transmission to the sovereign), and it became thenceforth customary to confer this post on a statesman who had resigned the regency. In effect, the sesshō, or regent, was supposed to manage the administration during the minority of an emperor, while the kwampaku discharged the same functions after the sovereign had attained his majority. The difference became nominal when the descendants of Yoshifusa and Mototsune made these two posts permanent and hereditary in their line. It seemed, indeed, as though all the highest offices of state had become the exclusive perquisite of that omnipotent family, no others being eligible except princes of the blood. No less marked were the marital relations between the imperial house and the Fujiwara, for only a daughter of the latter could become the sovereign's consort, so that every sovereign had a Fujiwara for his mother.

The power of the puissant family met a temporary check under the Emperor Uda (893-898), who selected Sugawara-no-Michizane as minister. Michizane was a descendant of Nomi-no-Sukune, and did not belong to the Fujiwara family. Reputed for high literary, calligraphic, and artistic skill, he also possessed a profound knowledge of politics. It was his fortune to manage all administrative affairs jointly with the young and keen Tokihira, son of Fujiwara Mototsune. The Emperor Uda, who took the tonsure soon afterward, left instructions to his successor Daigo, then a boy of thirteen, to consult Michizane in all important affairs of the state. Tokihira filled the office of minister of the left (the highest administrative post after that of chief minister of state then vacant), and Michizane was minister of the right. With the exception of Michizane and Kibi-no-Makibi, no man of the middle class had ever held such an important office. The ex-emperor would have had Michizane raised still higher, and urged the reigning sovereign in that sense. But this design precipitated Tokihira's resolve to contrive the downfall of a man whose great reputation with the nation and marked favor at court dimmed the prestige of the Fujiwara family. Michizane was also an object of keen jealousy to Minamoto-no-Hikaru, a son of the Emperor Nimmyō, who held the office of dainagon (vice-minister), as well as to Fujiwara-no-Sadakuni, who like Hikaru, was incomparably superior to Michizane in lineage, but inferior to him in official position. These men conspired against Michizane, and conveyed to the sovereign a false charge that the minister of the right was plotting to depose him and place his younger brother, Michizane's son-in-law, Prince Tokiyo, on the throne. Daigo believed the accusation, and reduced Michizane to the head of the Kiushū local government, a position which it had become customary to fill with disgraced officials of the imperial court. The order amounted in effect to a sentence of exile. The ex-emperor did everything in his power to save Michizane, but in vain. Hikaru succeeded to the office of minister of the right. In all this affair the members of the Fujiwara family left nothing undone to sweep away every obstacle to their own supremacy. Treating as opponents all that did not take active part with them, they contrived to have them involved in the disgrace of Michizane. The exiled minister died after two years of banishment. His popularity had been so great that the nation was filled with grief for his unmerited sufferings, and when, after his decease, the partisans of Tokihira died one after another, and a series of calamities occurred in the capital, people did not hesitate to regard these evils as retribution inflicted by Heaven for the injustice that had been wrought. Subsequently Michizane received the posthumous honor of the first class of the first rank and the post of chief minister of state, and posterity built a shrine in Kitano to his memory, where he is worshiped to this day as the tutelary saint of learning, under the canonized name of Kitano-no-Tenjin.