MATSUDAIRA Nobutsuna was one of the ministers of the Shogun Iyemitsu, next to Iyeyasu, the ablest of all the Tokugawa Shoguns. A man of great sagacity, he contributed not a little to Iyemitsu’s wise administration.
When Iyemitsu was a young boy named Takechiyo, Nobutsuna who was called at that time Chōshirō served him as one of his attendants and playmates.
One morning when the young nobleman was passing along a corridor accompanied by Chōshirō and two other boys, on the way to the private apartments of his father, the Shogun Hidetada, his attention was caught by some fledgling sparrows that were hopping about and chirping gaily on the tiles of the roof. Takechiyo, then but ten years of age, was seized with a fancy to have them; and turning to Chōshirō, three years older than himself, he commanded:—
“Catch those little sparrows for me, Chōshirō.”
“With pleasure, your lordship; but should I be found catching sparrows I should be reprimanded by his Highness and the officials. Fortunately I shall be on duty to-night; so to-night I will climb out on to the roof when there is no one to see me, and give you the little birds in the morning. Will you please to wait till then, my master?”
“I suppose I must.” And the small company passed on.
That night when all was quiet, Chōshirō managed somehow or other to get out on to the roof, and crawling carefully on all fours to the spot where the parent birds had built their nest, reached out one hand and seized one of the little sparrows. Poor little things! Surprised in their sleep they were not able to escape. Transferring his captive to the left hand Chōshirō again stretched out his right and caught another. Whether the attainment of his purpose caused him to relax his care or for some other reason, certain it is that at this moment his foot slipped and with a heavy thud he fell down into the court-yard below. As he fell he involuntarily clutched the birds more firmly so that they were instantly squeezed to death. With the dead birds in his hands, he fainted. But the roof was comparatively low, and he also had the good fortune to fall on to some bushes so that he was not killed as might have been the case.
The sound of the fall awoke the Shogun. He started up and followed by his consort and some attendants went out on to the verandah and opening a sliding shutter looked down. By the light of a lantern held by one of the servants he perceived the boy lying on the ground just beneath. Chōshirō had now recovered consciousness and was trying to rise though the pain he felt all over his body rendered the operation one of considerable difficulty. His consternation was great when the light of the lantern revealed his person to those on the verandah.
“Chōshirō, is that you?” called his lord, recognizing the boy at once. “It is strange that you should be on my roof at this time of night! Come up instantly and explain your conduct. This must be inquired into.”
The boy, still holding the dead sparrows, obeyed. Prostrating himself before the Shogun he waited for him to speak.
“What have you in your hands, Chōshirō?”
“Sparrows, my lord.”
“Sparrows? Do you then climb roofs at midnight to catch sparrows? A strange fancy!”
“Yes, my lord. I will tell you the truth. When Takechiyo Sama and I were passing along the corridor this morning his attention was attracted by some little sparrows on the roof and we stopped to watch them. Takechiyo Sama said ‘What dear little things they are!’ and the desire then arose in my mind to get them for him that he might play with them. So to-night when everyone was asleep I climbed out on to the roof of your apartments in disregard to the respect I should have shown to your august person, and caught two of the young sparrows. But how quickly the punishment of Heaven followed my crime! I fell down as you see and my wickedness was discovered. I am ready for any chastisement your lordship sees fit to inflict.”
“My lord,” here broke in Lady Eyo, the Shogun’s consort. “Excuse my interference, but I think Takechiyo must have ordered Chōshirō to catch these sparrows. There is no doubt about it.”
It should be explained that Lady Eyo had two sons—Takechiyo and Kunimatsu. Takechiyo, the elder, was sharp-witted and active though rather rough in his manners; his brother, on the contrary, was quiet and effeminate. For this and probably some other unknown reason the younger son was his mother’s favourite, and it was her desire that he should be appointed heir to the Shogunate in place of his elder brother. She therefore lost no opportunity to disparage Takechiyo in the estimation of his father, hoping thereby to attain her object in due time.
“What a thoughtless boy Takechiyo is!” agreed the Shogun. “This was undoubtedly done at his instigation. How cruel to command Chōshirō to endanger his life by catching birds on a roof at night! Though he is but a child there is no excuse for him. The proverb says ‘A snake bites even when it is only an inch long.’ One who is so inconsiderate to his attendants when young cannot be expected to govern wisely and well when more power is invested in his hands. Now, Chōshirō,” turning to the boy who still knelt at his feet, “Takechiyo ordered you to get the sparrows; is it not so?”
Chōshirō had heard with surprise the unkind words of the Shogun and his lady about his adored master. What did they mean by the words “A snake bites even when it is only an inch long?” If their feelings towards the boy were already so antagonistic what would they think and do should the real facts of the case be disclosed? Chōshirō firmly resolved to take all the blame even at the risk of his life.
“Oh, no, my lord,” said he earnestly. “Takechiyo Sama never gave me such a command, never! I caught these sparrows quite of my own accord. I meant one for Takechiyo Sama, and one for myself.”
“I caught these sparrows quite of my own accord”
“Nonsense! Whatever you say I know Takechiyo is at the bottom of it. You are a bold fellow to dare to tell me an untruth!... Let me see, what shall I do to you?... Here, bring me one of those bags.”
The Shogun pointed to some large, strong leather bags, resembling a money-pouch in shape, in which in the event of a fire or of an earthquake his valuables would be incased before putting them into the dozō or fire-proof godown.
When the bag was brought the Shogun said:—
“Now, Chōshirō, if you don’t confess the truth, I will have you put into this bag and never allow you to go home again, nor give you any food. Do you still persist in your falsehood?”
“It is no falsehood, my lord. It is the truth that I caught the sparrows of my own wish. No one but myself is responsible for my misdeed. My fall from the roof was the punishment of Heaven. It is right that you should chastise me also. I beg you to do so.”
With these words, Chōshirō, betraying no signs of fear, put himself into the bag.
“What a stubborn boy!” exclaimed the Shogun in anger.
Then with the help of his consort he tightly fastened up the bag with the boy in it, and had it hung from a peg on the wall of the corridor. Leaving the poor child in this state all retired once more to their broken rest.
Late the next morning, having had breakfast and finished her toilet, Lady Eyo, attended by two maids of honour, came out to the corridor where the bag still hung and ordered it to be taken down. On opening it the boy was found still holding the dead sparrows.
“Good morning, your ladyship,” said Chōshirō, rubbing his eyes with his closed fists.
“You were ordered by Takechiyo to take the sparrows, is it not so?” said Lady Eyo kindly, hoping to make the boy confess the truth.
“No, my lady. It was my own idea. Takechiyo Sama had nothing whatever to do with the matter.”
“Come, boy, if you are so obstinate you will have to remain a prisoner always, and never have anything to eat. But if you confess what I am convinced is the truth, you shall be released and have food at once. Now tell the truth.”
“My lady, as you command me to do so I will tell the truth; but I am so hungry that I find it difficult to speak at all. May I ask for some food first? If you will allow me to have even some musubi,1 I will say all you wish.”
“Good boy, you shall have some musubi at once.”
The lady gave the order and soon the boy was eagerly devouring the rice-cakes. Three or four large ones made a good meal.
“Thank you, my lady; I am now able to speak.”
“Then confess the truth, good boy, confess quickly; I am tired of waiting.”
“Forgive me, my lady; I caught the sparrows of my own accord. I received no order direct or indirect from Takechiyo Sama. That is the truth.”
The lady for once forgot herself and flew into a passion. Stamping her foot on the floor, she rushed into the Shogun’s room and gave him an exaggerated account of what had happened. He was very angry.
“The young rascal,” cried he, rising, and taking his Yoshimitsu sword in his hand, “I will kill him myself. Tango Hasegawa, bring Chōshirō here.”
Tango found the culprit sitting in the bag his hands on his lap.
“Chōshirō,” he said, “His lordship is terribly angry with you—your stubbornness and insolence are past endurance. He intends to kill you with his own hands. Prepare yourself for instant death!”
“I am quite prepared, sir.”
“Your father is my old friend,” went on the man pitifully. “If you have any farewell message for him I will undertake to deliver it.”
“Thank you, sir; but I have no words to send to my father. It is the duty of a samurai to sacrifice his life for the sake of loyalty. After my death my motive for refusing to confess what my lord the Shogun desires will become clear. Tell my father only that I met my doom fearlessly by my lord’s own sword. My one sorrow is that my mother is now ill and this news may lead to her death also. That is my only regret.”
“What a truly heroic resolve!” cried Tango, unable to restrain his tears. “Your father may well be proud of you, boy, when I tell him how you met death.”
Taking Chōshirō by the hand Tango conducted him into the presence of the Shogun and his lady. The stern noble stood up on their entrance and laying his hand on the hilt of his sword motioned to them to approach nearer. The brave boy kneeling down pushed the stray locks from his neck, and with clasped hands and closed eyes calmly awaited decapitation. The Shogun’s manly compassion was not proof against this pathetic sight. Throwing his sword away, “Chōshirō, you are forgiven!” he cried. “I recognize your supreme fidelity to your young master—faithful unto death! Tango, I foretell that when Takechiyo succeeds me as Shogun, no one will be able to assist him in the task of ruling this people so well as this courageous young samurai. Chōshirō, you are pardoned!”