A Pointed Story – Saigo's dog's ears

Statue of Saigo Takamori in Ueno Park.
From a print by Watanabe Nobukazu (1899)
The whole print may be seen here.

The Year of the Dog (2018) is already well underway as I write this, but alas, there seems to be little evidence of that principle feature of the dog’s personality, loyalty, in public affairs. Perhaps this is part of the popularity of heroes who seem to rise above the 'swamp' of realpolitik.

Japan has had a long and conflicted relationship with dogs (and, indeed, with the concept of loyalty) varying from using them as target practice for inuoumono, a form of mounted archery (the arrows were blunted, so the dogs survived)...

 ...to the edicts of the Tokugawa Shogun Tsunayoshi, who forbade the taking of animal life (Edicts on Compassion for Living Things issued from the 1690's), and had a huge kennels built for 20,000+ dogs outside the walls of Edo Castle.

The typical image of a dog nowadays is that of the shiba inu; a little on the small side, slightly foxy, smart-looking and attentive. This is only a comparatively recent development, however. It was not so long ago that dogs became a small but hotly contested area of nationalism – the relatively new Japanese nation needed to show its spirit through its canine friends. A quick look at the Japanese breed standards for the shiba inu still has a whiff of this:
A spirited boldness, a good nature, and an unaffected forthrightness, which together yield dignity and natural beauty.

Speaking of former symbols of nationalism, 2018 is also the year of the Taiga drama ‘Sego-don,’ about the life of Saigo Takamori – perhaps a good choice for this year as he was renowned for his loyalty and strength of spirit, and was strongly associated with his own dogs, especially his favourite, Tsun.

 The confusing title comes from the way ‘Saigo dono’ (dono is an honorific) was/is pronounced in Saigo’s local Kagoshima dialect – Sego don. Note also the Mt Fuji-shaped hat

But back to the dog. Saigo was fond of dogs, keeping several. His favourite, by all accounts, was Tsun – a black and white floppy-eared foreign breed. These characteristics are clearly seen in early depictions of the dog, such as this one by Yoshitoshi (1888), eleven years after the death of Saigo.

By the time the statue was built, Saigo had been thoroughly co-opted by nationalist interests, and it was felt that a floppy eared dog did not look Japanese enough. An early version was criticised for looking like a mongrel or too Chinese. Flying in the face of fact and common-knowledge, it was suggested to the sculptor, Gotō Sadayuki, that he change the ears to make them pointed, as a good Japanese dog’s ears should be. This is the image that has stuck in popular culture, and I fear NHK will be no different.

Statue of Saigo Takamori, Ueno Park, Tokyo by
Takamura Koun and Gotō Sadayuki) (1898)

Takamura Koun, with a hat remarkably
similar to Segodon's.

Both men were remarkably skilled sculptors (Takamura was particularly well-known), and their Saigo is not among their best works. Their Kusunoki Masashige, which stands outside the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, is far more dynamic and assured. (Once again, the horse was by Gotō – he was famous for his horses, with two other sculptors responsible for the sword and the armour).

Kusunoki Masashige (1904)

Takamura's small pieces, particularly of animals, also have a charm which is absent from the Saigo statue. Head of the woodworking department of Tokyo School of Fine Arts, he was also appointed as an artist of the Imperial household. One of his most famous pieces is Aged Monkey, which was exhibited at the Chicago Columbian Exposition in 1893.

Sharp eyes might also spot that Saigo's attire is very 'Japanese' in the statue, in contrast to Yoshitoshi's print. There may have been considerations in the sculptor's mind of what looked more heroic or suitable for such a statue in aesthetic terms, but I can't help feeling that there was something purposeful in choosing to go without the western-style shirt and collar as shown in the slightly earlier print by Yoshitoshi. The choice was also something of a shock to Saigo's widow, Itoko, who remarked on it when the statue was unveiled.

When the statue was finally uncovered, revealing the image, Itoko emitted a sudden shriek.  “It looks nothing like my husband,” she exclaimed.  She was immediately silenced and later reprimanded by Tsugumichi, out of regard for the “feelings of those many people who went to such trouble and expense to produce the statue.”  But Itoko would never overcome her embarrassment at the statue’s informal attire “for all the world to see” – because in life Saigo “was a man of the utmost decorum” who would have worn the formal “hakama and haori bearing the family crest, or a military uniform.” 

(From Samurai Tales: Courage, Fidelity, and Revenge in the Final Years of the Shogun, Romulus Hillsborough, Rutland, Vt.: Tuttle Pub., 2010.)

But popular images evolve over time, and Saigo's, despite several notable inaccuracies, (I know the dog's ears are not really important) long ago became a legend.

An enlightening article dealing with some of these issues can be found at:

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/culture/2012/06/17/books/book-reviews/japan-the-history-behind-its-love-affair-with-dogs/#.WrW33GaB2m1

Ishikawa Idayuu - the unknown swordsman

Ishikawa Idayuu (1825-1894)

Occasionally a name or an incident will crop up that will make you want to stop and find out more. Names of people long dead continue to resonate, and some of these, though well-known  in their own day are all but forgotten now.

One such is Ishikawa Idayuu, a swordsman of the Shounai Domain, who was famous enough in his day to be known as one of the three notable masters of the domain (Shounai san meibutsu). The others were a jujutsu master of the Shibukawa-ryu called Akashi Jiemon, and Sagara Judayuu, master of the Mukyoku-ryu of sojutsu, both of whom lived a century or so before Ishikawa.

(The term meibutsu is nowadays used mainly for famous products with which each prefecture is associated – an early government marketing ploy to help local businesses and tourism. Typically, each prefecture has one meibutsu, many of which are taught to school children, who will be able to recite Ehime – mikan (tangerines), Aomori – apples… to name two of the most famous.

The style Ishikawa practised was the Shinkyu-ryu, (新九流) of which little is known nowadays. It was popular both in Shounai and neighboring Aizu, but as both were hold outs against the new Meiji government during the Boshin War, it is not surprising that many of the martial practices in the area would have been supressed. In fact, both Ishikawa and some of his students were active in that war, commanding military units of various sizes, and were afterwards removed from their official positions and subject to other punitive measures.

Ishikawa was born as the 3rd son and adopted as heir into another branch of the same family, who were the hereditary teachers of Shinkyu-ryu heihou. He excelled at this and eventually inherited the position both of head of the style and of the family.

I came across Ishikawa in Matsuura Seizan’s work Joseishi Kendan, where he is the subject of a rather interesting episode. Seizan is interesting as a swordsman in his own right, and as a one-time daimyo was able to travel comparatively freely. Although he does not say so, it seems most likely that he met Ishikawa in Edo – as the chief instructor for swordsmanship for the domain, it is not unlikely that he would have travelled to Edo with his lord, or on other han business and Seizan, too would have spent some time there. Shounai later became responsible for managing security for the city of Edo, and the Shinchogumi – the Edo version of the Shinsengumi – was under the control of Shounai. It was, incidentally, set up by Kiyokawa Hachirou, who was a ronin from Shounai.

The story is related as if Ishikawa is the senior, though in fact Seizan was both older and of higher social status. Seizan did, in fact, study widely, even after being awarded mastery in swordsmanship, and even quite late in life, so it seems he was happy to learn where he could, and from whom he could. He notes how although Ishikawa always talked about swordsmanship (and this was a day and age where it was soon to become, yet again, a very real survival skill), on one occasion he had become very drunk and was stumbling all over the place on his way home. Seizan, who was with him, was thinking to himself that surely Ishikawa was now in a pretty vulnerable condition. When they got back, Ishikawa, who had obviously been faking, said he knew what Seizan had been thinking, but he shouldn’t be too sure of his initial assessment. It was only when he had discovered what someone was hiding that he should be content.

Like many stories from this period, it gives us a glimpse of some of the concerns of swordsmen in those days, and shows us that their art and knowledge went beyond the use of the sword in the dojo. This was knowledge that was tested in the Bakumatsu period – as it happens Kiyokawa Hachiro, a skilled swordsman himself, was killed in the street after being heavily plied with food and drink. (Although he was from Shounai, he was not one of Ishikawa’s students).

Sakai Noritsuge

Students

Sakai Noritsuge (1842-1876), son of an important domain official,  and nick-named ‘Oni-Genba’, was personally involved in the round up of the remnants of the Mito Tengu Insurrection, and there is an account of his skill in using a single sword thrust to bring down a sword wielding opponent. He was also well versed in chinese poetry and playing the flute. Later he became a batallion commander in the Boshin War, and was involved in some fierce fighting, as were both Ishikawa himself and another of Ishikawa’s students, Nakamura Shichiroemon (1843–1907), who became the next head of the Shinkyu-ryu. Lest you have the image of a totally outmoded army of swordsmen facing modern weapons, it must be noted that Nakamura commanded a rifle unit. Nakamura was actually connected to the Sakai family by marriage, and performed as kaishaku at the seppuku of Sakai Noritsuge’s uncle, Ukyou, a leader of han reformers, in 1867.

Ishikawa Shizumasa's portrait of Saigo

The connection with Saigo Takamori

Not 'The Last Samurai', perhaps, but there is an interesting connection with Saigo Takamori, who led the Imperial forces against Shounai and its allies in the Boshin War. After the war, Saigo settled very lenient terms with Shounai, and through this approach won the admiration of many former opponents. The official ‘Records of the Shounai Domain’ reflect this attitude with laudatory comments concerning Saigo’s magnaminity. Prior to this, one of the domain elders, Suge Sanehida, travelled to meet Saigo. He was accompanied by a painter, who later painted this portrait of Saigo. The painter was Ishikawa Shizumasa (1848-1925), the son of Ishikawa Idayuu.

The story of the fishermen

There is one other story of Ishikawa that bears repeating. As well as being famous as a swordsman, he was a famous for his yawara (or jujutsu) – probably as a part of the Shinkyu-ryu teachings. Three young fishermen came to him asking him to teach them yawara for protection in case they were attacked by robbers. Ishikawa accepted them as pupils and for six months had them running up and down the beach as basic training.  Eventually they asked him when he was going to teach them yawara.

“This is your yawara” he replied. “You have a very important job. If you start getting into yawara, you’ll neglect your fishing, which is crucial. So, if anyone attacks you, run! Escape! By losing, you win. Escaping is your victory!”

The Death of Saigo

A degree of doubt also surrounds the death of Saigo Takamori, a one-time confederate of Ryoma's, but arguably more important in historical terms. The questions are of quite a different kind - though his death was hardly less dramatic. He died leading an ill-fated rebellion, out-numbered, out-gunned, wounded, he took his own life , dignified and true to his principles until the last. At least, that is the story. Sounds just like Last Samurai, doesn't it...hardly surprising as that is who Watanabe Ken's character was based on. However, the facts point to a slightly different truth.

Mark Ravina, who wrote Saigo's biography (the only one in English, I believe) 'The Last Samurai', which despite the title is a well-researched volume, has recently published a scholarly article investigating the historiography of Saigo's death - that is to say, the way in which it has been depicted in art and writing, and how those depictions have gradually altered over time.

It is an interesting study, which shows how Saigo's death was written about and gradually embroidered for the various writers' own ends. This tendency was particularly strong during the first decades of the twentieth century. In the process, these fabrications became accepted as fact, and are often included unquestioningly in historical works (both Japanese and foreign).

Without going into detail here (Ravina does) although there are no eye-witness accounts to his death itself, there are reliable reports of those who saw his body after death, and it seems that a wound he sustained to the upper thigh/hip area made the dignified beheading (which later became a dignified seppuku) extremely unlikely - the lack of wounds denoting seppuku rule that out. As it says in the abstract, "Remarkably, historians have treated Saigo's suicide as an unproblematic account of his death, rather as a legend codified some four decades later." In fact Ravina feels that these stories should be viewed as another fiction, to rank along the stories of Saigo sailing to Russia or the illustrated accounts, such as the one here, that I just had to put in, as it was my first introduction to Saigo in any form.

The article, for those interested, is 'The Apocryphal Suicide of Saigo Takamori: Samurai, Seppuku, and the Politics of Legend', in The Journal of Asian Studies 69(3), August 2010.

It is scholarly and well-researched - an interesting read and a useful addition to Ravina's biography.