the land. The rest of his life was spent in
strengthening his rule and extending the arts of civilization throughout
his realm. Finally he died, one hundred and thirty-seven years old, as
the _Kojiki_ states, leaving three children, one of whom he had chosen
as the heir of the throne.
That there was an actual Jimmu Tenno is more than any one can say. Of
course the crow and kite, serpents and spiders, are myths, transformed,
perhaps, from some real incidents in his career, and the gods that
helped and hindered were doubtless born in men's fancies in later days.
The Chinese have their story of how Japan was settled. Taiko,
grandfather of the first emperor of the Shu dynasty, had three sons,
and, loving the youngest most, wished to leave him his title and estate.
These by law and custom belonged to the eldest, and the generous young
prince, not wishing to injure his brother, secretly left home and sailed
to the south. Leaving Southern China with a colony, he landed in Japan.
This took place about forty-six years before the beginning of Jimmu's
conquering career, so that the dates, at least, agree.
Whether there ever was a Jimmu or not, the Japanese firmly believe in
him. He stands on the list as the first of the mikados, and the reigning
emperor claims unbroken descent from him. April 7 is looked upon as the
anniversary of his accession to the throne, and is the Japanese national
holiday, which is observed with public rejoicings and military and naval
salutes. The year 1 was the year in which Jimmu ascended the throne.
_HOW CIVILIZATION CAME TO JAPAN:_
There is not much of absorbing interest in early Japanese history. For a
period of some twelve hundred years nearly all that we know of the
mikados is that they "lived long and died happy." No fewer than twelve
of these patriarchs lived to be over one hundred years old, and one held
the throne for one hundred and one years. But they were far surpassed in
longevity by a statesman named Takenouchi, who served five mikados as
prime minister and dwelt upon the earth for more than three hundred and
fifty years. There was not much "rotation in office" in those venerable
times.
We must come down for six hundred years from the days of Jimmu to find
an emperor who made any history worth the telling. In truth, a mist of
fable lies over all the works of these ancient worthies, and in telling
their stories we can never be sure how much of them is true. Very likely
th
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