IN the first half of the last century, in the great city of Yedo, lived Oka, Lord of Echizen, a judge whose name is acknowledged to be the most famous on the long roll of Tokugawa judges, and whose memory is still perpetuated in tales and traditions dear to the heart of the romance-loving populace. Oka was fortunate enough to live under a Shogun who was himself a brilliant administrator and knew the value of able servants; and for thirty-five years Oka continued to dispense justice, first in the City Court of Yedo, and then as one of the two Ecclesiastical Magistrates, whose jurisdiction was national. It is as a trial judge that his fame is greatest. A wonderful knowledge of human nature, the keenest insight into motives, tact to attain his purpose by indirection when necessary, and, above all, a sympathy for the people unusual in a feudal official, and a rough-and-ready justice appealing to common-sense, — these made him the idol of the people of Yedo, and the personification of judicial wisdom; and there was, to their minds, no case too difficult for Oka's genius to unravel. The records which have come down to us are encumbered with popular tradition. We could not separate the tradition, if we would; but perhaps it is as well, for if the celebrated cases which are still so eagerly read are not in every respect records of actual events, they at least represent what the Japanese populace regarded as the ideal qualities of a last-century judge.

      The first tale to be told is that of

THE FLAYED HEAD ON THE GIBBET.
I.

      There was living in the city of Osaka, about the year 1740, a worthy burgher, by name Hikobei, who followed the occupation of a dealer in art objects. Lacquer boxes, ivories, bronzes, — these products of the cunning artisans of Kyoto and Osaka were the subjects of his commerce. In the year above-mentioned the times had gone hard with Hikobei. None of his ventures (for his sales were few and he made his profits by investments in promising objects of special rarity and value) seemed to prosper. Towards the close of the year his sanguine heart was excited by the prospect, held out to him by a friend, of retrieving his fortunes in the great city of Yedo, where the feudal luxury of the daimyo who congregated there offered a never-failing market for the wares in which Hikobei dealt. His wife and the two boys, of course, must be left behind, in the care of friends, until it should be seen whether the new enterprise was to be successful; and these arrangements made, Hikobei started for the feudal capital, trudging all the way along the dusty thoroughfare known as the Tokaido, — for even if his means had permitted him to ride, the law of his country would not have allowed a merchant-commoner the luxury of a sedan and bearers.

      As luck would have it, Hikobei's opening proved a good one, and customers began to appear in the most unexpected quarters. He was beginning to think of sending for his wife and children, who had felt the separation keenly, when one day an interruption came to all his affectionate plans. Not very far from the Ryogoku Bridge, the great bond which unites the two heart-valves of Yedo's throbbing life, was the house of an old lady with whom he had become very intimate since his arrival in Yedo. He had first made her acquaintance during a shower of rain, when a pleasant voice had called him in to take shelter awhile as he stood under the dripping eaves trying in vain to escape the drenching drops. The motherly old lady soon won the heart of the lonesome Hikobei, and mutual services cemented the friendship. thus begun. His new friend was the aunt of a certain Ichiyemon, of the Yone House,^1* but lived alone, with only a maid-servant. She belonged, like Hikobei, to the class of tradespeople; but she had managed to save a small sum which, with what her husband had left, gave her a comfortable subsistence. But her years were failing, and she had already laid aside the contribution to her family temple which should secure a mass for her soul after her death. On the day above-mentioned Hikobei needed money. He had in sight an excellent investment. In fact, he had agreed to buy the object (on which he hoped to double the sum laid out), and had paid 10 ryo as bargain money. He needed 90 ryo more, and it was due that night, but as yet he had not been able to raise so large a sum.^2* Determining finally to avail himself of the friendship of the old lady, he asked her for the loan. She shook her head regretfully, and told him that she had no ready money of such an amount. But as Hikobei sadly turned to leave, his visions of profit now melting into air, the generous woman's heart was moved. She called him back, and, going to her cupboard, she took out her mass-money, carefully wrapped in a cloth, and laid it before him. "I was keeping this," she said, "to buy masses for my soul; but you have been my good friend, and since you need it, you shall have it, and shall pay me when you can." That Hikobei overflowed with thanks is to describe his feelings inadequately. The money was taken to the place of his purchase, and the transaction speedily consummated.

1 Every commercial business of any consequence had a firm or house name, such as Ise House, Echigo House. 2 A ryo could then buy what 5 yen (or dollars) will buy now; and if we make the allowance for the difference in prices between Japan and America, we may say roughly that 90 ryo represented what $2000 would to us.

II.

      That night the old lady's maid-servant spent with a friend in the nephew's house. When she returned next morning, she found that the door was open, and going in hastily there met her sight the body of her mistress, covered with blood and lying motionless on the bed. The neighbors were soon alarmed by her cries, the nephew Ichiyemon arrived, and they found that life was indeed extinct. The murder was apparently the work of a robber; for when the nephew looked eagerly for the mass-money, it was not to be found. "Who knew of this money, outside of the family?" asked Ichiyemon of the maid. "No one, I think," she answered; "unless it be Hikobei, who came last night, by the way, to borrow some money from your aunt." Jealousy, perhaps, aided Ichiyemon in coming without further hesitation to the conviction that Hikobei was the murderer; and he took himself forthwith to Oka, Lord of Echizen, then judge of the City Court, and laid the whole story before him. Nor did he fail to name Hikobei as the undoubted criminal.

      Thus it happened that as Hikobei was returning that morning, full of pleasure at his investment, and of speculations upon its profit, his dreams were rudely interrupted by two policemen who had been sent by Oka to arrest him; and in spite of protestations he was speedily taken, without any word of explanation, before the famous judge whom all knaves feared and all honest men trusted. Hikobei found in the court-room the nephew Ichiyemon, the maid-servant, and some of the neighbors. Ichiyemon first told his story again, and ended with accusing Hikobei as the guilty one. "But," said Oka, "Hikobei and your aunt were, it seems, the best of friends. It is a most unlikely thing that he should repay such trust and such benefactions with murder. Is there no one else on whom your suspicions fall?" Ichiyemon answered in the negative, and again demanded, with some vehemence, the death of Hikobei. Oka turned to Hikobei and said, "How could you do such a brutal act as to kill your benefactress?" Hikobei declared, by all that was sacred, that he was innocent. "Is it true that you visited her yesterday?" asked Oka. Then Hikobei told him the whole story, beginning with his misfortunes in Osaka, and ending with his arrest on that morning. Through the whole of the recital Oka, as was his custom, had watched him keenly with half-shut eyes, apparently almost asleep; and by the time the unfortunate man had ended, the master of human nature had made up his mind that Hikobei was innocent. To save him, however, seemed quite impossible. The circumstances were completely against Hikobei; not one jot of evidence, except his character, appeared in his favor; and the relatives of the dead woman were clamoring for his death. The custom of the times, however, required that no one should be put to death before confessing, and Oka ordered Hikobei to be put to the torture. Innocence was no proof against torture, and it ended by a full confession of guilt by Hikobei. Sentence of execution was passed; he was beheaded in the prison, and his head was exposed on a pole at the usual place, Suzukamori. Singularly enough, the face of the dead man had been disfigured by the removal of the skin.
 

III.

      Meantime there was great grief in Osaka. The last letter of Hikobei had told of his hopes for their reunion, and news of the arrangements was daily expected. But for many weeks no news came, and at last, worse than no news, came the rumor of the father's trial and execution. But the faithful wife never believed it; and the elder boy, Hikosaburo, a brave lad, at last resolved to go to Yedo and seek out his father. Entreaties. and tears of the mother availed nothing, and the middle of January found him in Yedo. He first went to the execution place to see if his father's head was there, but the flaying of the face made recognition impossible. Lingering there till dusk, he heard footsteps approaching, and fearing to be questioned by some chance policeman as to his errand there, he crouched behind a tree and saw two figures pass him. They were laborers, judging from their dress; and one was saying, "What a pity that was about Hikobei! He never deserved death." "No, you are right; he was innocent," said the other. Hikosaburo started. Surely these men could enlighten him as to his father's fate. He followed them to their house, and told them his name and his story, and begged them to disclose all they knew. The honest fellows, Sukeju and Gonzo by name, were much touched by the young lad's tale, and their information was soon put at his service. It seemed that on the night of November 17, the night of the old lady's death, as they were returning home very late, they saw in the moonlight a young man of the neighborhood named Kantaro washing a sword in a fire-bucket near the gate. The air was chill, and they passed by rapidly; but it seemed a strange business for Kantaro to be about at midnight, and, as they went out in the morning, they looked into the fire-bucket, and saw that the water was of a blood-red tinge. They thought that it was some quarrel which Kantaro had perhaps been engaged in; until at the bath-house, shortly afterwards, they heard the news of the old lady's murder and of Hikobei's arrest. They never spoke to outsiders of what they saw, but the private conviction had always remained with them that Hikobei was innocent, and Kantaro the murderer.

      The laborers proved good friends to the Osaka youth, and in a short time the matter was again laid before Oka. The police were sent to arrest Kantaro; but when the fellow was brought into court and questioned, he denied all knowledge of the crime. His wife, however, finally disclosed such damaging evidence of his guilt, that he broke down completely, and confessed to the killing. When passing along the street he had seen the old lady showing the money to Hikobei, and he had then entered during the night and killed her, for money which he never got.

      The real culprit discovered, it only remained to announce the news to the other parties interested. Two days later the judge summoned to court the filial youth Hikosaburo, the nephew Ichiyemon, and the two laborers. When all had appeared, he called them up and said to Ichiyemon: "When your aunt was killed you demanded the execution of Hikobei as the murderer. But his son has now come up from Osaka, and has brought to me complete proof of his father's innocence! The real murderer was not Hikobei, but a man named Kantaro. I now proclaim that Hikobei was entirely innocent of the crime of which he was accused." At these words Hikosaburo could not restrain his emotion. The clearing of his father's name had at last been accomplished, and he poured out his thanks to the judge. "One thing only I ask," he continued, "that I may have the body of my dear father given back to me, to be taken to his home in Osaka, and buried where our ancestors lie." But the others did not take it so easily. The thought of the innocent man, now gone beyond the possibility of pardon or recall, excited the laborers and their friends who were present, and they began to murmur remarks not at all favorable to the abilities of Oka. "It is a pity," said one, "that the judge should have. been so hasty in condemning to death a man. who now proves to have been quite innocent." Kantaro is punished," said another, more loudly; "but is there no punishment for the official who kills an innocent man?" Oka in vain ordered silence. The popular feeling had been aroused by the miscarriage of justice, and the friends of the innocent victim did not restrain their utterances. Finally Oka made a sign, and before long there appeared at the door a pale figure who advanced between two attendants to the group before the judge. "Hikosaburo," said Oka, "this is the reward which I offer for your noble conduct in coming to rescue your father." Hikosaburo turned. It was his father. The two rushed into each other's arms and shed tears of joy, while the others were dumb with amazement. Oka then told the secret. When the old lady was killed," he said, "her nephew insisted that the guilty person was Hikobei. Of his arrest, torture, and confession, you all know. But I never once believed that Hikobei was the criminal. His confession, I knew, was made to obtain release from torture. So I determined to save him. A convict had just died in prison; I ordered his head cut off and flayed, and exposed it at Suzukamori, instead of Hikobei's. Meanwhile he lived quietly in the prison, until some proofs of his innocence should turn up. You all thought that he was executed; but here he is, thanks to the noble conduct of his son, and the friendly help of Sukeju and Gonzo, and my conviction of his innocence has been justified. Some of you just now angrily reproached me for my seeming injustice. But I shall take no notice of your disrespectful words, for I know that you were much excited, and on the whole I am glad to have in my town citizens who are not afraid to speak up when they see an innocent man suffer." With these words he ordered a reward to be paid to the two laborers, while they, now ashamed of their mistrust of the omniscient judge, bowed low and expressed the humblest apologies. When Hikobei and his son left the court and the news of his vindication spread through the city, the people were full of the praises of Oka and his wonderful penetration and wisdom; and the case has ever since been known as "The Flayed Head on the Gibbet."