immune from the storms that prove fatal to so many of these ancient landmarks, its boughs remain still fresh and green, manifesting no system of decay. According to the priest of Hokokuji, the preservation of this beautiful old tree constitutes a serious drain upon his income, the attentions of numerous gardeners being necessary to minister to its needs and to preserve it in a flourishing condition.
A little path thickly overgrown with ferns and wildflowers, and overshadowed by huge boulders of rock, leads the pilgrim to what must surely be one of the most sequestered and solitary abodes of peace in the world—an old cemetery. So ancient indeed are some of the venerable gray tombs, and so thickly covered with moss and silvery lichens that scarcely a trace of the original stone is visible; however, here and there a new monument with its inscription in fresh vermilion—and sprays of scarcely withered flowers, with little offerings to the soul of the departed—indicate that the spot is not wholly dedicated to the ghosts and spirits of remote ages, but now and again new inmates come to join the silent throng beneath the leafy rest and peaceful silence of this "dreaming garden of the dead."
High up in the overhanging cliffs, and shaded by the cloistering boughs of tall cedar and ginkgo trees, are two niches hewn out of the solid rock: here, beneath these rounded monuments, repose the ashes of the early priests of this temple. Although so safely sheltered from the fury of wind and rain, some of these venerable tombs are almost reduced to lacework by the flight of centuries, and seem as though the ebbing of the waves of time have imprinted corresponding little ribbed and stony wavelets upon their rugged surfaces. The solitary monument in the left-hand niche marks the resting place of the first priest of Hokokuji, Tengan. It can be approached by some worn steps almost concealed in the verdant undergrowth, and a more picturesque spot could hardly be found for the last long sleep than this mossy, fern-shadowed crevice in the rocky wall of the mountainside; one instinctively breathes a prayer that in the land of shades the soul of that ancient divine may find the tranquillity and beauty that surround his ashes in this mortal world of strife below. A grove of solemn cryptomeria forms the background to this sequestered graveyard. A short distance beyond, on the hillside above, is a cave containing two ancient tombs concerning which there is a tragic history.
The fourth Ashikaga regent, Mochiuji, was keenly ambitious to succeed to the shogunate, but fate willed it otherwise. When he was superseded, Mochiuji formed the plan of assembling an army in order to assert what he considered to be his rights by force of arms. However, the plot was betrayed before it could materialize. On realizing the collapse of his hopes and plans the unfortunate aspirant, together with numbers of his retainers, committed suicide in a nearby temple (Eian-ji) which has since disappeared, in the neighborhood of Zuisen-ji; on the same day his wife, with many of her lathes, was accidentally burnt to death. Now their eldest son, a boy often years of age named Yoshihisa, had been deposited for safety in the temple of Hokoku-ji. This child possessed the indomitable spirit of the samurai, and although of such tender years, he resolved to anticipate the fate that was surely impending from his enemies. So here, in this temple, he stabbed himself to death: his kinsman (Mochiuji's brother) who was in charge of the unfortunate boy followed suit, and died upon his sword. Their ashes lie beneath these old gray tombs, the smaller one which is of the Ashikaga shape being the memorial of the young Yoshihisa.
Kinubari-yama, the lofty height beyond, partly belonged to Hokoku-ji in the old days. Its name—Silk-spread Mountain—is derived from the fact that its peak was plainly visible from Yoritomo's residence, and in the heats of summer the shogun is recorded to have caused white silk to be spread upon the summit, creating the effect of snow. From the neighborhood an accessible, although somewhat steep path winds upward to the great cavern above, which commands one of Kamakura's most beautiful panoramas. Near this cavern are three other large caves in the rock. Legend connects one of these with the days of Yoritomo; it is still well known in the neighborhood as Karaito no tsuchi no rō, or the earthen prison of Karaito.
It is a historical fact that the first shogun was on notoriously bad terms with his cousin Kiso Yoshinaka, whose territory lay in the north of Japan. Karaito was the daughter of one of his generals, who had entered the household of the shogun at Kamakura: she managed to hold secret communication with the enemy and cherished the idea of making away with Yoritomo. To this end she kept a small sword concealed in her dress and possibly her scheme of vengeance might have been accomplished, for she had been appointed to serve her master as one of his personal waiting-maids and opportunity would doubtless have occurred. But her design was discovered and she was imprisoned in this cave. Regarding her ultimate fate—whether Karaito managed to flee from her doom, or whether she shared the fate of Yoritomo's many victims—is left to the imagination and tradition is silent.
Jōmyō-ji
AFEW PACES beyond the little bridge of Hokoku-ji brings the pilgrim to a monument of exceeding antiquity. This is a gebato, which in past times was a sign to mounted worshippers that they are approaching holy ground and that at this point their steeds must be left behind. A long avenue, from which many of the gnarled old pines have passed away, leads to a short flight of steps and a thatched gate, from whence one emerges into the precincts of all that remains of the once great and famous monastery of jomyo-ji.
Although now of somewhat less than ordinary exterior, and little suggestive of its ancient glories, in bygone days Jomyo-ji was one of the five most prominent temples of Kamakura, ranking in importance with the great foundations of Kenchoji and Engakuji. In those palmy days there were seven main edifices with numerous satellites, an especially fine bell tower, and many other attributes, which alas, have gradually shrunk to the little measure of a single lowly building supported by a solitary offshoot.
Founded by Ashikaga Yoshikane in the year 1188, and established as one of the five monasteries in Kamakura of the Rinzai sect of Buddhism, in those remote times the temple was known as Gokurakuji, but in the year 1321, with imperial permission, the name was changed in honor of the founder, who was the ancestor of the first Ashikaga shogun, and whose posthumous name was Jomyo-ji.
The age of its prosperity only lasted for a period of somewhat over two centuries, then it was stricken by the relentless enemy that has reduced to a heap of ashes so many priceless structures all over Japan, and the knell of its decay was sounded.
Twice destroyed by fire and twice rebuilt, the temple never recovered from these calamities: according to records, toward the end of the fifteenth century Jomyo-ji had greatly declined, and even in those early days remained but a shadow of its former splendor. Although the views of the surrounding mountains and densely wooded landscape are picturesque, the actual enclosure of this temple may strike the visitor as being commonplace, and somewhat unattractive: however, in spite of the deterioration that the flight of centuries has wrought upon this ancient foundation, much still remains that may interest those to whom the relics of bygone ages make any appeal.
The present temple stands upon the site of the guest room of former times: the interior is plain, but cheerful and inviting, the only note of color being some sprays of painted flowers that decorate the panels.
The two chief treasures in the central division of the main altar are both of historical interest and extreme antiquity. The large statue of Buddha is supposed to have been a gift to Sanetomo, younger son of Yoritomo; beside it stands an ancient gilded figure of Amida. This latter image is said to have been carved in sandalwood by the Chinese sculptor Chinwakei, and was one of the sacred possessions of Masako, wife of Yoritomo, until she presented it to this temple.* It is recorded that in a dream the Inari of Okura (this part of Kamakura) appeared to Sanetomo in the guise of a venerable man, advising the shogun to reestablish the temple of Gokuraku-ji (as Jomyo-ji was then called). The work was begun in 1212 and completed the next year, when Sanetomo and his mother
