Samurai: The Japanese Warrior’s (Unofficial) Manual

DEATH POEM COMPOSED BY MINAMOTO YORIMASA
IMMEDIATELY BEFORE HIS ACT OF SEPPUKU
IN THE BYODO-IN TEMPLE OF UJI

In the preceding pages you have read an outline of what it takes to become a true samurai warrior, rather than one who has simply been born into that illustrious social class and cannot behave fittingly. I hope you have studied my words carefully, but I must once again stress that there is no substitute for practical experience; so join your lord in Edo, sit in when a trial is being conducted, read Heike Monogatari, take part in tea ceremonies and practise the martial arts at every opportunity. When you fight, fight bravely, and I will see you standing behind me at the battle of Osaka (which will most surely happen during my own lifetime, if not indeed within this present year of 1615).

It will be on such a battlefield that you achieve your destiny of becoming a real samurai, so let us imagine a battlefield where you are one of the victorious survivors. The bodies of friends and foes lie all around, but you are still alive to fight another day. Assuming that you haven’t survived simply by running away, I think we can say that your duty is done. There will be many more battles to fight, I am sure, and if you have brought back a good crop of heads then an appropriate reward will be forthcoming in the shape of grants of land, promotion or both. Keep this up and who knows where you might finish your samurai career. You may become a lord yourself one day, and run an estate wisely, perhaps even taking up a high office under His Most Excellent Highness. Like me, you may then be fortunate enough to chose a graceful retirement, have your head shaved, and continue to serve your lord in a different capacity.

When a samurai retires he can enjoy life as an administrator or might even become a great scholar and man of letters, like the modest aesthete shown in this picture.

Beyond that? My personal desire is that, before I become a Guest in the White Jade Pavilion, I will have returned briefly to active service and led one last attack against that rabble in Osaka Castle. I am sure that will be my final battle, and if I survive I would rather like to become a sennin. The sennin are the ‘immortals’, who have reached that sublime spiritual plain through meditation, asceticism and magic (powers acquired by following Taoist teachings). It will mean spending the rest of my life away from mankind in the fastness of some mountain region. Over the course of such a retreat my skin will grow white and paper-thin, and I will have a very long beard, but I think I could cope with that. In fact, I think I would make a very good sennin.

Joining Your Ancestors in the White Jade Pavilion

There will inevitably come a time when you depart this life and join your ancestors as a Guest in the White Jade Pavilion. You may have lived to an advanced age or you might have died tragically young – for who can tell the extent of his days? To die in battle is indeed honourable, but it is no less honourable to die in bed, your duty done. Even though no one can ever know the exact time of his passing, it may sometimes be that at the moment of imminent death the samurai has a choice – if not about the time of his going, then certainly about the manner. It is to this very important topic that we must now most gravely turn.

Fourteen Interesting Ways to Commit Suicide

You may have to commit suicide for any one of several reasons, and not all of them are to be welcomed; for example, you might be required to commit happy dispatch as a result of personal disgrace or dishonour. Such occasions, which are mercifully rare, are a generous alternative to being executed like a common criminal. A most unusual motive for committing suicide is to make a protest. I recall the case (which shocked everyone) of Hiraide Kiyohide, a samurai in the service of the future Lord Oda Nobunaga, who despaired at his young master’s liking for debauchery and committed suicide as a way of bringing Nobunaga to his senses. This had the desired result and was commendable, if somewhat wasteful. By contrast, there is one situation similar to this that must be condemned out of hand. I mentioned it earlier, but it is so important that I must stress it once again. This is the misguided tradition of committing suicide following the death of one’s lord in order to immediately join him as a Guest in the White Jade Pavilion. Nothing is more injurious to a noble house than for an heir to lose the wise counsellors and samurai who have served his father for a lifetime. This practice must never be allowed to happen.

The sole occasion when suicide is unquestionably honourable and unmistakeably meritorious occurs when a noble samurai is defeated upon the battlefield and performs happy dispatch. Cutting oneself open is a dramatic gesture, but you can become a Guest in the White Jade Pavilion using any of a number of unusual methods. All have been tried and tested by noble samurai in the past.

1 Ordinary disembowelment

This is the most common way of committing suicide on a battlefield. Known as seppuku (or by the vulgar expression hara-kiri) the technique consists of cutting open your abdomen using your dagger. If the situation permits, first withdraw from the battlefield to the seclusion of a shrine or temple. Then remove your armour, sit cross-legged, expose your abdomen and using your dagger cut open your lower belly. Contemplate the results and die. (Be careful to lean forwards at this point. It is unseemly to be found on your back.)

This is the classic way of committing suicide. Retire to a place that ensures privacy, compose a farewell poem and cut yourself open using your dagger.

As is well known, the act of seppuku is often performed with the assistance of a second. This loyal friend, who must be an expert swordsman, stands beside you as you perform the act. At the precise moment that you plunge the dagger into your abdomen, he will deliver a single blow with his sword, cutting off your head. This renders seppuku much less painful. The most skilled and devoted seconds will cut so deftly and precisely as to leave a small flap of skin between the head and one of the shoulders. Your head will not then bounce along the ground, which would be considered most unseemly.

The practice of ritual disembowelment is rendered less painful by the intervention of a second, who will cut your head off at the exact moment you make the final incision.

2 Disembowelment with poetry

As with number 1, but before making the final incision a poem is composed on an appropriate theme. If no paper is available, write the poem on your war fan. Such an act was performed in 1180 by Minamoto Yorimasa at the Byodo-In Temple following his defeat at the battle of Uji, and was regarded as most honourable. Poems written under these circumstances are usually quite short.

3 Disembowelment with poetry written in one’s own blood

This is a nice variation on number 2. To take the blood from one’s own carved abdomen after the incision has been made undeniably lends the act an extra cachet. Otherwise, inscribing the poem upon a temple door using blood from a wound before committing suicide may be regarded as equally praiseworthy and much less messy. Akechi Mitsuyoshi managed to combine both methods in 1582 and wrote a poem on a temple door using blood from the final incision before expiring, which was quite an achievement.

Here we see the noble suicide of Akechi Mitsuyoshi, who wrote a farewell poem on a temple door using blood from the incision he had made to disembowel himself.

4 Falling on your sword

This is a quick and easy method when you are hard pressed on the battlefield and the situation does not allow you to withdraw to a place of repose. It is less honourable than numbers 1–3, and has the unfortunate association of being the method chosen by the female defenders of Tsuneyama Castle in 1577. To be remembered by future generations as the samurai who ‘did it like a girl’ may not be acceptable to many warriors.

5 Falling forwards from horse, sword in mouth

This method, performed most memorably by Imai Kanehira at the battle of Awazu in 1184, is both effective and dramatic. Keep your teeth clenched. Frozen ground helps.

This is the dramatic suicide of Imai Kanehira at the battle of Awazu in 1184. He jumped headfirst from his horse, sword in mouth.

6 Falling forwards from castle tower, sword in mouth

This remarkable variation on number 5 was performed by Matsunaga Kojiro at the siege of Shikizan Castle in 1577. His father Matsunaga Hisahide had just committed suicide using method 1, so Kojiro cut off his father’s head and leaped to his own death with his sword in his mouth and the head in his hands. Incidentally, prior to his suicide, Matsunaga Hisahide had smashed a priceless tea bowl so that it would not fall into the hands of his enemies. (See ‘The Tea Ceremony – Dos and Don’ts’ in chapter 7).

Matsunaga Kojiro committed suicide at the siege of Shikizan Castle in 1577 by jumping from the castle tower with his sword in his mouth and carrying his father’s severed head in his hands.

7 Headlong dash into the midst of enemies against a hail of arrows

Why kill yourself when the enemy can do it for you? This method is quick and extremely dramatic, as illustrated by the successful suicidal charge of the Kusunoki brothers into a volley of deadly arrows at the battle of Shijo-Nawate in 1348. You will be left looking like a porcupine, which will bring great honour upon your ancestors. It is, however, important to note that this method may not be totally effective. The approach of a furious samurai intent on death may cause the enemy to shoot wide or even run away, as happened when Shibata Katsuie led a suicidal charge out of the gates of Chokoji Castle in 1570. In this case he survived, won the battle, was richly rewarded and went on to become a renowned general.

8 Headlong dash into the midst of enemies against a hail of bullets

Yamamoto Kansuke’s death at the fourth battle of Kawanakajima in 1561 is the classic example, and if it was good enough for Takeda Shingen’s finest general then it is quite good enough for you, so don’t moan about the fact that the fatal bullets are being fired by lewd and sordid persons. They would not be firing if you were not there. Besides, the order to fire will have been given by someone of a rank equivalent to your own, so don’t automatically turn this method down.

9 Drowning whilst being weighed down by one’s armour

Sea battles add the exciting prospect of death by drowning. There are several instances in Japanese history of successful suicides at sea, but take note that nowadays many suits of armour are made predominantly from leather, and therefore have a tendency to float. Also, if you belong to a clan such as the Aizu, which has a great tradition of swimming while wearing armour, your natural tendency to survive or even to show off your skills may mean you forget the original purpose of your immersion.

10 Drowning whilst being weighed down by an anchor

The famous instance is Taira Tomomori at the battle of Dannoura in 1185. It really doesn’t get much better than this, particularly when you haunt the locality for centuries to come. (See ‘Ghosts and Other Strange Beings’ in chapter 6.)

11 Drowning whilst weighed down by a temple bell

The unusual death of the wife of the keeper of Sakasai Castle, which occurred when the castle fell to the Hojo, was exceedingly honourable. She simply slipped the temple bell that was used for signalling over her shoulders and toppled into the castle pond.

12 Cutting off one’s own head

This is technically so difficult, requiring both a very sharp blade and an intimate knowledge of human anatomy, that there are only two known examples in the whole of Japanese history. The first was Nitta Yoshisada at the battle of Fujishima in 1338. Yoshisada’s horse was felled by an arrow, trapping him beneath it. Being unable to reach his abdomen, Yoshisada cut off his own head. That in itself is so remarkable that the variation of the story that has him performing the act then standing and continuing to fight may be dismissed as fanciful. Many years later, Miura Yoshimoto cut his own head off when the castle of Arai fell to Hojo Soun in 1510. It was very messy.

There are only two recorded instances in Japanese history of samurai committing suicide by cutting off their own heads. This picture shows Miura Yoshimoto decapitating himself at the siege of Arai in 1510.

13 Starving oneself to death

Starving oneself is difficult and undramatic, although we had a recent example during the winter campaign at Osaka in 1614, when Yabe Toranosuke did so in his mortification at having arrived too late for the battle.

Here we see the tragic and pitiful sight of two defeated samurai on the battlefield. One lies dead while the other makes an attempt to rise.

14 Being buried alive

Sometimes embarrassment is justified and can provide a positive result. In 1290 (or thereabouts) Shibuya Shigechika failed to overcome his enemy, and so had himself buried alive, fully armoured and mounted on his horse.

What Will Happen When I Am Dead?

You are now dead.

Your corpse lies on the battlefield, a pathetic yet noble sight. You may have lost your head, but if your enemy is generous then it will be reunited with your body in the very near future. As you lie there, priests will pass near by, intoning prayers for you. These brave men actually do this while the battle is still raging, and when all is quiet your fellow samurai, with tears streaming from their eyes, will carry your body from the battlefield.

Regardless of whether you have committed suicide or been killed by the enemy, there now begins a very long and very important process: your soul must be successfully steered to the Western Paradise, a process that depends upon the actions performed by your surviving family. The first requirement is for your soul to be firmly separated from your body. Because of the painful and tragic way in which you probably met your end this is by no means straightforward, and I will deal later with the serious consequences that can arise when the soul is not correctly separated.

There will soon be a funeral for your corpse, which will be cremated and the ashes interred in a grave. Sometimes this will be done on the battlefield where you fell. The funeral (as is the case for the whole process in fact) will be in the hands of Buddhist clergy, whose prayers and services will ensure that your soul is freed within 49 days of your death. Shinto priests will have nothing to do with death. Shinto is about life. Buddhism is about death.

A Buddhist priest or monk, probably one from your local temple, will then take your sorrowing family a temporary ihai (funerary tablet). On the 49th day after your death this will be replaced with the final version, a black lacquered tablet on which your posthumous name is written in gold. This tablet will be kept and displayed in the butsudan (Buddhist altar) in your home, where your wife and children will revere it for many years to come.

Your first Bon Festival as a spirit will come around within a year of your death. At Bon you, and the spirits of all your ancestors, will return to the family home. Your soul is now truly free, and over the next 33 years it will make the long, slow journey to Paradise, helped on its way by the actions of your surviving family (without whose prayers the soul may become lost). At the end of this time, when it is likely no living memory of you remains, the ihai will be taken back to the temple and placed on a shelf in an inner chapel.

You are now a god. You may even have been enshrined at your local Shinto sanctuary so that you can be worshipped within your particular locality – but whatever happens, you are now also that most wonderful of things: an ancestor. In China people literally worship their ancestors. In Japan we don’t go quite that far, but you will be honoured, and your deeds will be written and sung about in the centuries to come. In these ways your descendants will remember you, and by returning to them every Bon Festival you will never cease to play a part in your household, even long after you have gone. Otherwise you are happy as a Guest in the White Jade Pavilion of Heaven.

A successful samurai – like this veteran, skilled in the way of the bow – would have served his lord time and time again before death.

Angry Ghosts and How to Placate Them

But what happens to those souls who have no descendants to pray for them? Others can supplicate on their behalf, of course, and myriad are the offerings and sutras issued by worthy priests for their unfortunate souls. Yet sometimes, sadly, the process does not work and they remain as troubled spirits. How do we know? Because out of nowhere come famines, floods and typhoons to devastate the land. These events are the actions of onryo (angry ghosts), who, being yet possessed of the unruly passion with which they died, vent their anger on the world of living men. Fortunately, there is a way to control them, which is to instate them as gods in a Shinto shrine. In time they will be placated, but the process must be continued and never neglected, lest their wrath break out again. Examples of onryo include the courtier Sugawara Michizane, a man of honour who was most cruelly and unjustly executed because of the false rumours brought against him. His angry spirit sought terrible revenge, causing crops to fail and animals to die; but wise men enshrined him, and he is now safely worshipped as Tenjin, the god of learning.

So honour your ancestors and perform rituals for them, because they depend on you as much as you depend on the example they have set – and none of us is exempt from the certainty of death. I also have to face the fact that I will not survive, and may perhaps leave my corpse upon the battlefield. I know what will happen to my physical body, but what of my spirit? Will my descendants honour me? This is certainly to be expected. In fact my son has already assured me that he has selected a plot beside Umawatari Castle for the construction of a temple in my memory, to be known as the Bogyuji. There, pious monks will offer prayers for the repose of my soul. Finally, I may also expect to be established as a god within the ancient Umawatari Shrine beside the Mukiwata River, where I will enjoy an annual festival. How pleasant is the thought that those simple farmers of Hitachi province will think of me as they tuck into their octopus balls! I have so much to look forward to when I am dead – thanks to my adoring family and their prayers. And if they don’t do all this, I will simply come back and haunt them.

In conclusion, young samurai, follow the example of your ancestors but, follow too the words written in this book. You will then become the glorious samurai warrior that it is your rightful inheritance to be.