by Donald Keene
Though this is the Land of the Gods
Today as in the distant past,
People are dazzled by stupid foreign ways
And, paying no attention to the confusion in Japan,
They borrow their laws from abroad…
Not only was foreign influence decried, but the achievement of the Restoration was questioned:
When they wiped out the daimyos
They said they were returning to the past,
But now we know they were lying….
After singling out Ōkubo and Sanjō for special attack, the song makes this accusation:
What happened then to their traitorous hearts?
They sold the country to the dirty foreigners
And ordered us to give up our weapons and swords
A decree never heard before or since….
The conclusion of the song, expressing the fascination that death exerted over these samurai, contrasts with the triumphant note typical of the war songs of other countries:
We’ve reached a point we can take no more
We warriors can only do our utmost
To save tens of thousands of people,
Today our last, on the road to the other world.12
Even after the fighting had begun in earnest, Saigō still insisted that his only objective was to proceed to Tōkyō in order to ask the government some questions. He maintained that there was nothing secret about his plans: the prefectures and garrisons he would pass on his way had long since been informed. But the troops of the Kumamoto garrison had tried to block his passage, and he therefore had no choice but to resist.
On February 28 Governor Ōyama of Kagoshima sent a petition to Sanjō and Iwakura explaining why Saigō’s troops had opened fire. He expressed astonishment that the government had ordered that Kagoshima be pacified. He insisted that Saigō’s purpose in opening the private schools was to inculcate loyalty and filial piety in the young men of his prefecture. When Saga, Kumamoto, and Yamaguchi had been torn by disturbances, absolute calm had reigned in Kagoshima. What suspicions of his motives had induced the government to order his assassination? It is true that his followers were carrying arms on their journey to Tōkyō, but after all, Saigō’s execution had been ordered, and so he had to prepare for any untoward event on the way. He asked that imperial instructions be issued immediately to reassure the people of Kagoshima.13
By the time this letter reached Iwakura, however, a new ultimatum had been issued. Saigō, enraged, sent a letter to Prince Taruhito, announcing that if his arguments continued to be ignored, he would have no choice but to employ military force in passing Kumamoto.
The siege of Kumamoto Castle dragged on for fifty-four days until it was relieved on April 14. In the meanwhile communications between the defenders and the outside were almost completely severed, although on occasion a courier slipped through enemy lines to report on conditions inside the castle. On March 4 Kido, who had spent several days at headquarters in Ōsaka, returned to Kyōto and gave a detailed report to the emperor on the progress of the war and future objectives. The emperor was relieved to hear that the situation was turning in the government forces’ favor. At the same time, imagining Saigō’s grief over having been branded as a traitor, the emperor felt sympathy for him. Kido was moved to tears at the depth of the emperor’s affection for a subject who had previously served him well.14
Judged in terms of how a European monarch would probably have reacted under the circumstances, Meiji’s compassion was remarkable. A European monarch, learning that a man whom he had trusted and favored was now leading a rebellion, would probably have fulminated against the man’s ingratitude, never once giving a thought to the pain it might have cost the man to rebel. Meiji’s affection for Saigō Takamori may have led him to hope that the confrontation between Saigō’s forces and the government forces might still be averted. Indeed, Saigō, Kirino, and Shinohara were not stripped of their court ranks and posts until March 9.
Conversely (and contrary to typical European examples of leaders of rebellions), absolutely nothing suggests that Saigō was dissatisfied with Emperor Meiji or that he hoped another form of government might replace the monarchy. Far from it—Saigō seems to have believed that direct rule by the emperor, even authoritarian rule, was the ideal form of government.15 This belief was shared by the samurai who fought under him. For them, the ultimate objective of the Satsuma Rebellion was to rid the emperor of the corrupt officials surrounding him so that he might rule undisturbed by their evil influence.
For that matter, men close to the emperor, like Kido Takayoshi, did not (as often in wartime) paint the leader of the enemy as a traitor or an ingrate. Kido said of Saigō that he was definitely not an evil man like Ashikaga Takauji, who had raised the standard of rebellion against the emperor Godaigo; rather, he was ill informed on conditions and had unfortunately allowed momentary anger to destroy himself and harm his country. Saigō’s action was to be hated, but the government should consider whether it had made mistakes that had inspired his revolt.16
The battle for Kumamoto Castle was crucial. If the castle fell to the rebels and they entered Hizen Province, all Kyūshū would fall into their hands.17 But if they were defeated in Kumamoto, the war would end in the foreseeable future, for the rebel leaders were not likely to prolong the war by withdrawing to Kagoshima.18 The relief army was, however, slow in reaching the castle. After overcoming their initial surprise at the fierceness of the resistance of the peasant-soldiers, the rebels settled down to a siege, modeling their tactics on those of the Prussians during the siege of Metz during the Franco-Prussian War.19
The government army’s first victory was won by a unit of 100 handpicked policemen who, with drawn swords, stormed a fortified place that regular soldiers had failed to take in several days.20 On March 15 government troops launched an offensive on the enemy stronghold at Tabaruzaka. The most intense fighting of the war caused many casualties on both sides. On the twentieth, the government army, scoring a breakthrough, took the fort at the crest. It is recorded that the corpses of rebel dead were so numerous that they blocked the road and the waters of the moat ran red. The enemy fled. The siege of Kumamoto Castle was not lifted for another three weeks, and the war continued until late September, but the victory at Tabaruzaka foreshadowed the end. Sooner or later, the government army’s matériel and numerical superiority would defeat the Satsuma samurai, fierce fighters though they were.
From the outbreak of hostilities, the emperor seems to have been unable to think of anything but the war. He rarely went to his study except to give audiences, but he listened every day to Sanjō Sanetomi give the latest news of the war. He spent most of his time surrounded by women in the residential palace. The emperor’s chief officers—Sanjō, Iwakura, Kido, and the rest—had exerted every effort to foster the emperor’s moral excellence, and they were deeply concerned about his behavior at a time of national crisis. Sanjō and Kido again and again begged him to appear in his study, but without effect. On March 20 after a meeting with Kido to discuss what should be done, Sanjō went to the palace and remonstrated with the emperor, who finally agreed to mend his ways. Beginning on the twenty-first he would appear every other day in the study to hear reports on progress of the war. He summoned his tutor, Motoda Nagazane, from Tōkyō and questioned him (Motoda was a native of Kumamoto) about the geography. He also asked Motoda to deliver lectures on famous battles of Japanese and Chinese history.21
On March 25, at Kido’s urging, the emperor agreed to leave the Gosho and ride horseback through the city. Kido, much concerned over the emperor’s persistent refusal to emerge from the palace’s inner recesses, begged him to tour Kyōto, sure it would cheer him, even if there was a little wind and snow. For all his passion for riding, the emperor had exercised his horse inside the Gosho only twice since the war began; but at ten that morning, accompanied by Kido and various chamberlains and palace officials, he rode out the southern gate. The streets were muddy and the emperor’
s clothes were soiled by the ride. Perhaps Kido hoped that the sight of the emperor on his horse would cheer the people of Kyōto. The fighting in Kumamoto had been going on for only a month, but people were already weary of the war.22
The rebels still tenaciously prevented the government army from lifting the siege of Kumamoto Castle. The government feared that the army’s apparent weakness might inspire restive elements in other parts of the country to test their strength against the government’s and might even precipitate a collapse of the regime. At a meeting on April 4 Sanjō, Kido, Ōkubo, and Itō decided that if there was no improvement in the situation during the next few days, they would ask the emperor to move to Shimonoseki so as to be closer to the fighting.23
Three days later a more drastic step was considered: asking the emperor to take personal command of the expeditionary force. Because there was a shortage of soldiers even with conscription, and the public showed a conspicuous lack of enthusiasm for the war, the one way to arouse enthusiasm would be to ask the emperor to take command.
In the meantime conditions inside the castle were becoming desperate. Food and ammunition were running short, with meals for infantry soldiers consisting of rice gruel twice a day and millet once. One thing that kept up morale was tobacco, but the “tobacco” was actually tea leaves. It was estimated that supplies of food would last for only eighteen days.
On April 12 the full strength of the government army under General Kuroda Kiyotaka put to flight the rebel army between it and the castle. The rebel general, Nagayama Yaichirō, unable to withstand the attack, committed suicide. That afternoon, the commandant of the castle, observing the government army approach, ordered his men into the field to catch the rebel army in a pincer movement. At four that afternoon the Second Brigade, commanded by General Yamakawa Hiroshi, broke through the enemy ranks. The soldiers in the castle raised war cries, waved flags, and their joyful shouts filled the castle. The siege had been lifted.
On April 15 Kuroda entered the castle, and on the next day, Yamagata followed him. The campaign up to this point had resulted in 7,500 casualties, and nine-tenths of the city of Kumamoto had been consumed in flames. Even with the victory at Kumamoto Castle, the war lasted another five months, but the rebels’ resources steadily dwindled. Saigō’s forces were on the run, and only his brilliant generalship preserved them from encirclement and destruction. Even now he was occasionally able to inflict a defeat on superior government forces.24
During this period Meiji showed less and less interest in his studies. He sent Motoda back to Tōkyō in May. Before leaving, Motoda delivered a lecture on the proper behavior for a ruler. Although couched in normally polite language, the implications were clear: “he who has virtue should become the ruler of men; he who lacks virtue must not become the ruler of men.”25 Not only had lectures been discontinued, but not even the prime minister or the councillors could easily arrange to visit the emperor. He had agreed to go to his study regularly, but he went only in the morning, and in the afternoon he relaxed in his private quarters.
The death of Kido Takayoshi on May 26 after a long illness came as a blow to the emperor, but it did not shake him out of his apathy. In July, Sanjō Sanetomi, feeling more responsible than ever for the emperor’s education now that Kido was dead, thought the best plan was to have Motoda and Fukuba Bisei come to Kyōto to resume lectures, but he could not send for them without imperial permission. This was difficult to obtain, but eventually both tutors arrived in Kyōto, and the emperor was informed that they wished to devote themselves to his guidance. He expressed his pleasure and declared that he would henceforth devote himself to his studies, but in the end lectures were not given.
On July 28 the emperor left Kyōto to return to Tōkyō. His departure had been delayed several times for fear of the adverse effect it might have on the troops in Kyūshū, but the inconvenience of a government divided between two cities had made his return essential. On the ship returning from Kōbe to Yokohama, the emperor, seeing Mount Fuji rising into the clouds, composed three tanka, including
azuma ni to As the ship hurries
isogu funaji no Along its course to the East
nami no ue ni How joyous it is
ureshiku miyuru When appears over the waves
Fuji no shibayama The wooded slopes of Fuji.26
He scribbled three poems in pencil in a notebook, tore out the page, showed it to his chamberlain Takasaki Masakaze (1836–1912), an accomplished poet, and asked him to criticize the poems frankly. Takasaki deferentially examined them and said that the second of the three was particularly good. The emperor asked what was wrong with the other two. Takasaki replied that nothing was wrong with them, but they were not as good as the second. The emperor asked Takasaki to explain what was superior about the second poem. The conversation continued, the emperor manifesting greater and greater interest. He showed Takasaki some tanka composed earlier, and Takasaki analyzed each one carefully. The emperor finally showed him more than thirty poems. The experience helped while away the time aboard ship, but more important, this may have been the moment when the emperor, depressed by the war and apathetic, began to take new interest in life and in his duties as emperor.27
On July 4 the gon no tenji Yanagihara Naruko put on a maternity belt. The emperor’s first three children had all died as infants, and the doctors were determined that the next child should be born in the most favorable environment. In the end, it was decided not to send Naruko to Kyōto for the birth because of her delicate health. A son was born on September 23 at the Umegoten in Tōkyō,28 the day before the final action of the war in Kyūshū.
Saigō’s last stand was at Shiroyama, where he had opened the first private school. At the end, he had only forty men left, and he was severely wounded. Kneeling in the direction of the imperial palace, he bowed his head, and his aide Beppu Shinsuke at once decapitated him. The rebellion had ended.
Chapter 29
The remainder of 1887, at least as far as the emperor was concerned, was occupied chiefly with disposing of the aftermath of the Satsuma Rebellion. The various generals who had participated in the war were acclaimed with triumphal returns, shared by soldiers of humble ranks, and decorations were awarded to the principal agents of the victory. Saigō Takamori was not forgiven his part in the conflict, but sympathy was already expressed. The day after Saigō’s death, the emperor asked the empress to compose a tanka on Saigō Takamori. She wrote:
Satsuma-gata On Satsuma shores
shizumishi nami no The waves that have quieted
asakaranu Were not shallow—
hajime no chigai Differences at the beginning,
sue no awaresa But pathos at the end.1
The end of Satsuma resistance meant that there would be no further casualties in an unpopular war. The emperor visited the hospitals where men wounded during the war were convalescing. Some had lost arms or fingers, and others had been blinded. The emperor, deeply distressed, commanded that five maimed men be brought into his presence. He asked them kindly where and when they had been wounded and whether they still felt pain. Then, with an expression of sorrow, he touched their scars. The wounded men lowered their heads and wept with gratitude. Yamagata Aritomo, observing the emperor’s gesture of compassion, stood erect and saluted, at which everyone wept.2
Again and again in accounts of Meiji’s contacts with his subjects at this time and later, we encounter the word kankyū, or “tears of emotion.” People wept more easily a hundred years ago than they do today, and it was not considered to be unmanly, even for samurai, to weep. The emperor who ten years earlier had been a mysterious being hidden behind the walls of the Gosho had been transformed into an awesome but benevolent presence whose every gesture of affection for his people summoned forth tears.
After the emperor returned to Tōkyō, his life reverted to the pattern he had set before lapsing into apathy in Kyōto. He attended a cabinet meeting thirty minutes each day, beginning at ten in the morning.3 Once again he had par
ties in the residential palace with whichever advisers happened to be on duty. On October 4, for example, Takasaki Masakaze and Motoda Nagazane attended him. During their conversation he took up a brush and wrote some big characters, followed by this preface and poem:
Tonight, in the company of my men, I took brush in hand and wrote all kinds of things that I showed them.
aki no yo no Not tired by the length
nagaki ni akazu Of a nighttime in autumn,
tomoshibi wo I lift the lantern
kakagete moji wo And give myself the pleasure
kakisusamitsutsu Of scribbling down the words.
According to the record of Meiji’s life, “the two men [Takasaki and Motoda], struck by the emperor’s solicitude, wept with emotion, and without realizing it, bowed profoundly before him.” The empress asked Takasaki if he would not compose a reply. He at once complied with this tanka:
asakaranu In appreciation
mi-gokoro kumite Of the depth of his feeling
mizuguki no I have wet my sleeve
mi-ato ni sode wo As I examined the traces
nurashitsuru kana Left by the imperial brush.
Motoda, deciding that he could not remain silent, composed two quatrains in classical Chinese. The party was so agreeable to the emperor that from then on he frequently exchanged poetry with those attending him. On October 12 the chamberlain Ogi Masayoshi drew a picture of a gourd. Yamaguchi Masasada wrote a poem on the picture:
kono hisago I will try drinking
Gankai mata wa From this gourd to distinguish
Hideyoshi no What Gankai
medeshi kokoro wo Or perhaps Hideyoshi