Murasaki was essentially a pessimistic religion. Some sects preached the doctrine that the world had entered its last degenerate days, and that the only course left open for the religious man was to flee the world altogether and live as a hermit in the mountains. Salvation could be gained by murmuring one simple phrase rather than by costly rituals. The beautiful temples were left to rot, or were broken up for firewood by the sufferers from wars and natural disasters. At the end of the twelfth century a military dictatorship was established which, in one guise or another, lasted until 1868 and perhaps longer. For much of this long period it was the soldier, and not the aristocrat, who figured most importantly in Japanese novels. The generals whose chief occupation in The Tale of Genji seemed to be blending perfumes, gave way to men who slept with their swords by their pillows.
The quality of many of the novels of the period is perhaps best suggested by a fragmentary little story which, strictly speaking, does not belong to any novel at all. It is, however, typical of many of the episodes in such works as The Tale of the Heike. It is called The Tale of Tokiaki.
“When Yoshimitsu was serving as Captain of the Guards, word reached him in the capital that his elder brother, the Governor of Mutsu, had attacked the rebellious barons. He asked leave of the court to depart from the capital, and when this permission was refused, tendered his resignation as Captain of the Guards. Slinging his bowstring-bag by his side, he rode out of the capital towards the fighting. “Just this side of Kagami, in the province of Ōmi, a man wearing a dark-blue unlined hunting-cloak and green trousers, with a strapless visor pulled down over his face, rode up behind Yoshimitsu, whipping and urging his pony forward.
