A Boy of Old Japan

by R. Van Bergen

Thus passed the winter and spring of the year 1864. Kano heard that the number of rônin multiplied at a frightful rate, and that many were congregating in the suburbs of Kyoto. Several young samurai applied for leave of absence, and, when they received a refusal, sent in their resignations and disappeared.

The men were exasperated. On the 4th of August a courier from Kyoto brought news which caused Kano to call an extra meeting of the Council. When they had come together, Kano informed them that in the beginning of July a body of rônin had petitioned Tenshi Sama to remove the decree of arrest from Mori, and to recall the seven kuge and restore them to honor; but the Council of the Gosho, now wholly under the influence of Aidzu had not even vouchsafed a reply. Several hundred Choshiu men had joined the rônin, and were preparing to march upon Aidzu.

This was serious news. What if Aidzu, in triumph at its success, should secure a decree of Choteki[89] against Mori from the servile court. That must be prevented at any cost! Kano and Hattori were commissioned to proceed in all haste to Kyoto, and to restrain their clansmen. They arrived at the capital on the 15th, and, appealing to the loyalty of their men, succeeded in bringing them back under Choshiu’s banner.

Aidzu did not appreciate this self-control. On the 19th a Court messenger delivered a notification at the yashiki that Mori was to be punished for contumacy, and that Tokugawa Keiki[90] would command the loyal army commissioned to enforce the Court’s order.

Kano and Hattori deliberated long and earnestly. There was not much choice. It was either to submit to punishment, which would strike their innocent lord the hardest of all, or trust to the spirit of unrest and leave the decision to the sword. The latter alternative was chosen, and Kano prepared a proclamation. He demonstrated the justice of his cause and mentioned the crimes committed by the Tokugawa since the arrival of Perry; he called upon the samurai of Japan to aid him in punishing Aidzu, who was desecrating the private grounds of Tenshi Sama, and implored the pardon of the Son of Heaven “for creating a disturbance so near the wheels of the Chariot.”

The number of Choshiu men had increased to 1300. Kano had divided his men in three divisions, and, at dawn of the 20th of August, marched to the attack. His intention was to surround the flower garden of the palace where Aidzu’s troops were encamped. They were opposed by the samurai of Aidzu who had been reenforced by those of Echizen, Kuwana, Hikone, and other Tokugawa clans. There were some cannon and muskets; but most of the men were in armor, and trusted to the keen native sword. With terrible odds against them, and no clan coming to their assistance, Choshiu maintained the fight for two days. A native historian states that 811 streets, 18 palaces, 44 large yashiki, 630 small yashiki, 112 Buddhist temples, and 27,000 houses were destroyed. The same historian says: “The city, surrounded by a ninefold circle of flowers, entirely disappeared in one morning in the smoke of the flames of a war fire. The Blossom Capital became a scorched desert.” The end was such as might have been expected. The Choshiu men were utterly defeated. Thirty-seven men were taken prisoner and beheaded in prison. Kano died in battle, and his body was probably cremated, for it was not found.

When the fugitives began to arrive in Nagato, there was almost a panic among the samurai. Ito and Inouye, now recognized as leaders, restored quiet. It was not the defeat which had the effect of frightening men for whom pain nor death has any terror: it was the term choteki, which rendered their arm nerveless. It was only when Inouye proved to them that it was Aidzu and not Tenshi Sama who had inflicted this disgrace upon them that their courage returned together with their self-control.

The clan would soon stand in need of it. By Kano’s order they had continued to fire upon vessels entering the Strait of Shimonoseki. They had Tenshi Sama’s mandate to do so, and it had not been revoked. On the 5th of September a fleet of powerful vessels appeared, and bombarded Choshiu’s forts. The men stood to their guns like heroes, but again the odds were against them. The batteries were blown about their ears, and when landing parties attacked the forts, individual daring backed by swords, could not stand before the withering fire of trained troops. The clan despatched Ito and Inouye to make peace, and the terms hard as they were, were accepted.

It was two days after the bombardment, and a meeting of the Council had been called in the great hall of the castle. Ito and Inouye, both Councillors now, were present. After all were seated, Ito opened the meeting.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “there is little use in mourning for losses, since it will not repair them. But losses may be turned into an advantage, if we profit by the lessons we may derive from them.