A Few Words On Bushido

[Following is a partially edited excerpt (without sources cited) from the first few pages of Chapter 8 (“A Brief Discussion on Bushido.”) of Samurai Revolution.]

Bushido, the way of the warrior, is a compelling subject in the study of samurai culture, and much has been written about its moral philosophy. Interpretations of its origins and even purpose vary, at times contradicting or even negating one another. For as Nitobe Inazo writes in his classic English-language treatise, bushido “[i]s not a written code,” but rather “consists of a few maxims handed down from mouth to mouth or coming from the pen of some well-known warrior or savant.” It is “a law written on the fleshly tablets of the heart . . . founded not on the creation of one brain, however able, or on the life of a single personage, however renowned.” Rather, bushido, its tenets seldom uttered, “was an organic growth of decades and centuries of military career.”

A samurai’s education during the Edo period (1603-1867) was based on Neo-Confucianism, which flourished under the Tokugawa Bakufu (the shogun’s government). It was intertwined with bushido, which, in turn, was inseparable from the way of the sword and the Buddhist teachings of Zen. Of the latter, Nitobe emphasizes its “sense of calm trust in Fate, a quiet submission to the inevitable, that stoic composure in sight of danger or calamity, that disdain of life and friendliness with death.” The samurai class, “a rough breed who made fighting their vocation,” is as old as the institution of feudalism in Japan, dating back to the twelfth century.

Bushido, however, is much younger, dating back only as far as the mid-Edo period, during the era of Genroku (1688-1704), a turning point in cultural history about a century after the founding of the Bakufu, when many of the warrior class lived relatively easy lives compared to their predecessors. Kaionji Chogoro, in his biographical treatment of Saigo Takamori, writes that the term bushido did not exist until then. During the peaceful Edo period many samurai became administrators—which is not to say, however, that they forgot the arts of war. As professional warriors who received stipends from their feudal lords, they were expected to answer the call to arms at any time. There is an old saying: “Ken wa hito nari” (“the sword is in the man”); and it was also said that there was no such thing as a samurai without a sword. Even as the samurai took up the pen, they were required to wear the two swords; and many of them practiced the martial arts—with the sword, with the spear, and on horseback.

Until the advent of bushido, writes Kaionji, the most important qualities in a samurai had been bravery, honor, and a strong masculine spirit, based on a set of values sometimes called “the way of the man.” Bravery naturally meant bravery in battle, begot of honor and strength of spirit. “The way of the man” worked just fine during the Age of Civil Wars preceding the Edo period, when a man’s worth was measured by his valor on the field of battle. However, since “the way of the man” lacked a strong underlying moral code, it came to be frowned upon as barbaric, and even immoral, during the peaceful, orderly, and more refined Edo period. The samurai required a new set of morals to replace the old. And so bushido derived as a combination of Confucianism and “the way of the man”—without the barbarism of the latter—and might be best defined as “the way of the gentleman.”

The eight virtues of Confucianism—benevolence, justice, loyalty, filial piety, decorum, wisdom, trust, and respect for elders—were incorporated into bushido. Most, if not all, of these qualities were also valued in “the way of the man,” but were not the measure of the man in the older system. And, of course, manly and warlike qualities were every bit as important in bushido as they had been in “the way of the man.” The most cherished values in bushido were courage—moral and physical—and loyalty to one’s feudal lord. Loyalty to one’s feudal lord, however, did not extend to one’s lord’s lord, i.e., the shogun. While the samurai of the Bakufu reserved all of their loyalty for the shogun, the samurai of Satsuma devoted their loyalty to the daimyo of Satsuma, the samurai of Choshu to the daimyo of Choshu, and so on. And a samurai was expected to demonstrate his loyalty through courage, even at the risk of his own life. The importance placed on courage and loyalty served a vital purpose: the preservation of order in feudal society. The samurai placed more importance on the welfare of their feudal lord than that of even their own families. Things changed, however, during the final years of Tokugawa rule, when many of the samurai began to devote their loyalty (and lives) to the Emperor. This, of course, led to the restoration of Imperial rule, which, in turn, brought about the end of feudalism and samurai society altogether—and with it, the demise of bushido.


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“Went up to the castle”

“Went up to the castle.” Katsu Kaishu repeated this phrase often in his journal, as vice commissioner and later commissioner of warships. He was, of course, recording his visits to the shogun’s castle, during the heady and dangerous years leading up to the revolution. “Went up to the castle” is the title of Samurai Revolution, Chapter 13, which opens as follows:

“ . . . I frequently encountered danger, which sometimes encouraged me. But sometimes it was difficult to endure the misery, and even when I hoped for death I survived only to suffer numerous more hardships.” (Katsu Kaishu)

The tide of revolution had been on the rise this past decade. The swirl began in Edo with the arrival of Perry’s “Black Ships” in Kaei 6 (1853). Occasionally the tide ebbed, as during the reign of Ii Naosuké, only to surge again with the regent’s murder at the castle gate and the spree of assassinations of foreigners in Edo and Yokohama. As the Bakufu attempted in vain to stem the tide—through a union with the Imperial Court, consummated by the marriage between the young shōgun and the Emperor’s sister—the architect of the marriage plan was nearly assassinated. Then sometime around the end of Bunkyū 2 (1862) the tide suddenly turned, and the center stage of the gathering revolution shifted from the shōgun’s stronghold at Edo to the Emperor’s capital at Kyōto.

[The photo of Katsu Kaishu, taken just before surrender of Edo Castle, is used in Samurai Revolution, courtesy of Yokohama Archives of History. Katsu Kaishu is the “shogun’s last samurai” of Samurai Revolution.]


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The Quintessence of Samurai Morality

Like many Americans of conscience I am distressed over the current politics and society of our country. And so here are some words of wisdom from Saigō Takamori for these difficult times (slightly edited from Samurai Revolution, without footnotes):

Saigō Takamori, the quintessence of samurai morality, taught that “a great man,” unlike the average man, “never turns away from difficulty or pursues [his own] benefit.” He “takes the blame for mistakes upon himself and gives credit [for meritorious deeds] to others.” He “was physiologically unable to bear” even being suspected of any sort of underhandedness. He had a deep-seated repugnance of “love of self,” which, in his own words, he described as “the primary immorality. It precludes one’s ability to train oneself, perform one’s tasks, correct one’s mistakes,” and “it engenders arrogance and pride.” The ideal samurai “cares naught about his [own] life, nor reputation, nor official rank, nor money,” Saigō taught, even if such a man “is hard to control.”

[The image of Saigo is used in Samurai Revolution, courtesy of Japan’s National Diet Library.]


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Hanpeita and Ryōma

Recently I’ve been discussing Takéchi Hanpeita, while Sakamoto Ryōma has often been a subject of this blog. The two were distant relatives. Ryōma was among the first to seal his name in blood to the manifesto of the revolutionary Tosa Loyalist Party, established and led by Hanpeita. Following is an excerpt from Samurai Assassins:

Though Mito Loyalists triggered the revolution with the assassination of Ii Naosuké, as samurai of one of the Three Tokugawa Branch Houses they would never oppose the Bakufu. After the Incident Outside Sakurada-mon, the revolution was led by samurai who felt no allegiance to the Tokugawa. Most of them hailed from han in the west and southwest, ruled by outside lords, most notably Satsuma, Chōshū, and Tosa. Around this time in Tosa emerged two men who would inform the revolution—both charismatic swordsmen originally from the lower rungs of Tosa society. Takéchi Hanpeita, aka Zuizan, was a planner of assassinations and stoic adherent of Imperial Loyalism and bushidō, whose struggle to bring Tosa into the Imperial fold led to his downfall and death. Sakamoto Ryōma, one of the most farsighted thinkers of his time, had the guts to throw off the old and embrace the new as few men ever have—and for his courage, both moral and physical, he was assassinated on the eve of a revolution of his own design. But while Ryōma abandoned Tosa to bring the revolution to the national stage, Takéchi, remaining loyal to his daimyo, was determined to position Tosa as one of the three leaders of the revolution.

[Takéchi Hanpeita is the focus of Part II of Samurai Assassins, while Part III focuses on Ryōma’s assassination.]


 

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Self-portrait From Jail of Takéchi Hanpeita, Samurai Through and Through (2)

Below is a transcription of the poem on his self-portrait, followed by my English translation:

花依清香愛

人以仁義栄

幽囚何可恥

只有赤心明

A flower is cherished for its pure fragrance./A man glories in humanity and justice./Imprisonment brings no shame,/As long as one’s heart is sincere.

[Takéchi Hanpeita’s self-portrait appears in Samurai Assassins, courtesy of Kochi Prefectural Museum of History.]

Takéchi Hanpeita is the focus of Part II of Samurai Assassins. Also see this recent post. 


 

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