SPIRIT OF HARAKIRI STILL SURVIVES

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 249, 21 October 1936, Page 10

SPIRIT OF HARAKIRI STILL SURVIVES

JAPANESE SELF-CONTROL.

Ceremonial and I echnique

rpHE SPIRIT OF harakiri! Deep under all the outward manifestations of life in the Land of the Rising Sun hovers this ail-pervasive spirit, so essentially and peculiarly Japanese, giving the nation its strength, unity and i direction. Though the actual practice of harakiri belongs almost entirely to the realm of legend 9 its real significance is perhaps more apparent, more potent in the new Japan than in. the old. However, even in the literal sense, Japan of the harakiri is not yet dead. It was Alarch 1, 1868, in the ancient harbour of Kobe on the Inland Sea. For more than 15 years relations with the United States had been strained to the breaking point. The governments of the two countries had just effected a reconciliation, when an incident occurred that might have had very serious consequences. A Japanese army officer ordered his troops to fire on a group of innocent American citizens. Although no one was hurt, American representatives demanded the death-punishment of Taki Zenzaburo, the commander. For diplomatic reasons the Japanese Government felt it best to concede to their wishes. In accordance with an old Japanese custom, the condemned man was allowed to take his own life by harakiri. At 10.30 in the evening, seven Japanese officials and seven foreign representatives betake themselves to the temple designated for the ceremony. They step into the wide temple-hall: dark wooden pillars support a high roof; ornamental lanterns hang from tne ceiling, dazzling white mats cover the floor. On a slightly raised platform stands the high altar, before which is spread a red felt carpet. Lofty candelabras shed a sad ghostly light through the room, making it just possible to see everything that is taking place around the altar. To the right of the platform the Japanese witnesses take their place, while the foreigners go on to the left. A few moments of tense expectant silence pass with uncanny slowness . . . . . Suddenly,, noiselessly, a sliding door opens and Taki Zenzaburo, a powerful man about 32 years old, enters with proud and erect bearing. He is dressed in the traditional ceremonial costume with hempen 1 ‘wings,” only

worn in Japan on the most auspicious occasions. An assistant, (chosen by his friends for his swordsmanship) and three officers accompany him. The condemned man bows courteously to the assembled witnesses who return his greeting with an equal show of respect. Slowly and with great dignity the prisoner ascends the raised platform, prostrates himself before the altar, and then, turning his back to ft, according to Japanese custom, .kneels down upon the red carpet. The assistant assumes a crouched position immediately behind him lo the left. One of the officers steps forward and hands Zanzabiiro a small tripod which he lilts to his head and then sets down before himself on the floor floor. On it, wrapped in white paper, lies a “wakisashi, ” the narrow pointed Japanese dagger, inches lung and as sharp as a razor blade. The doomed man makes a last deep obeisance, and in a voice that trembles

only very slightly confesses his guilt. His face and general behaviour betray no signs of emotion. He concludes with these words: “For this crime I shall now commit harakiri and I beg you to attend as witnesses of this act.” Then he allows his robes to slip down to the waist, and slowly, as custom requires, places the sleeves beneath his knees, (to avoid falling backward, for a Japanese nobleman must dies falling forward'.. With firm hand he grasps the dagger. For a moment ho regards it thoughtfully, even lovingly. . Then he plunges it into the left side of his abdomen, draws it slowly to the right, prolongs the cut upwards. . . Not a muscle of his face twitches. Only when he has withdrawn the dagger, does an expression of pain cross his countenance, but he utters no sound. . Al this moment, the assistant, who has been carefully observing his every move, springs up, draws his sword—a

flash, a dullish horrible thud, a precipitous fall—and with one stroke he has severed the head from the body. The ceremony is ended. Although the Emperor Alciji abolished harakiri as a legal method of punishment a few months later c the custom still persisted, especially among the samurai (military class) and the aristocrats. Often they would feel themselves obliged to commit the act for what—according to our ideas—were really insignificant offences. Their severe code of honour daily led to complications of a personal, or social nature which could only be redeemed by harakiri of Che persons concerned. Like a sword of Damocles it hung above their heads, for any moment a situation might arise that would force them, for the sake of their own self-respect, to commit harakiri. The ceremonial and technique of the act as just described, had in every case to be cairicd out most scrupulously, and the performance of this indescribably pai nI u I operaliou required no small degree of anatomical knowledge, as well, eiiornmiis self-control. To this end samurai children from infancy wore instructed in the spirit and technique of harakirio, that is, in the endurance oi physical pain and the acquirement of spiritual self-mastery. Even their dolls were anatomically punctured, so that they might practice the act on them in preparation for the day when they would in all probability be called upon to direct the treacherous dagger to their own bodies. Afodern Japan, as has been said, generally turns aside from the outward form of the harakiri, but the conviction out of which it grew, that, spirit of disregard for bodily pain and “preparedness” in meeting the blows of that high sense of honour, still manifest themselves to-day in individual and public life. For this far-off eastern Island is the classic land of the “Liebestot—love of death. Tragic young lovers whose union is prevented by outward circumstances leap into the seething craters of the Asamayama and Miharayama volcanoes . . Prisoners of war shoot themselves rather than prolong a shameful existence. . . And how many crimes have been expiated over the brink of the 300 ft. high Nikko waterfall • ■ 1