Shinsengumi. Romulus Hillsborough

had ever laid eyes on the ancient Imperial Capital in the west. It was the height of spring.† The cherries were in full bloom in the green hills in the east of the city. The fallen blossoms covered the lowlands of the town like so much pink and white gossamer. In the distance, on the opposite side of the city, the corpsmen saw the five-tiered pagoda of Tōji Temple, a black monolith rising above the land in the southwest.

Telltale of these troubled times, on the night before the corps reached Kyōto, the heads of three wooden statues at a local Buddhist temple had been severed and displayed along the riverbank. These were images of three shōgun of the Ashikaga regime,‡ whose tenuous rule of Japan spanned fifteen generations. This symbolic act of Heaven’s Revenge was committed only days before Iémochi’s arrival at Kyōto, as a direct threat to the Tokugawa Bakufu.

      The Rōshi Corps stopped in the western outskirts of the city, north of Tōji and two miles west of the Kamogawa. They set up headquarters at Shintokuji Temple in the village of Mibu, a rural area surrounded by farmland. They lodged at Shintokuji and other nearby temples and private homes. Most of the rōshi were destitute and shabbily dressed. Some did not display their family crests on their clothes, but instead wore striped cotton peasant jackets. But for the two swords at their left hip, they would not have been recognizable as samurai. The local townspeople, wary of the motley corps, assigned to them the unflattering epithet “Mibu Rōshi.” When some among the corps extorted money from wealthy merchants and otherwise intimidated or violated the local people, the more derogatory “Mibu Wolves” was applied.

      No sooner had they arrived at Mibu than Kiyokawa assembled all 250 men into the cramped confines of the main building at their temple headquarters. The men seated themselves on the tatami-covered floor before the Buddhist altar, swords placed at their sides. Kiyokawa stood at the altar facing the assembly. Suddenly and in no uncertain terms he declared, eyes flashing, that men of high purpose must place their true loyalty with the emperor and not with the Tokugawa. The corps had been recruited for their loyalty and patriotism, he reminded them. Their actual purpose for coming to Kyōto had not been to protect the shōgun, but rather to help Iémochi fulfill his promise to expel the foreigners. Kiyokawa now presented his men with a letter addressed to the Imperial Court, expressing these views and offering up the “loyal and patriotic” corps as an army of Sonnō-Jōi. Every man signed the letter, because they did not have the will to oppose their self-imposed leader.

      On the following day Kiyokawa submitted the letter to the court. It was well received by the radicals surrounding the emperor. The Tokugawa authorities were disturbed, to say the least. There were some among them who proposed assassinating Kiyokawa. But the possibility of repercussions among the court, renegade Loyalists, and even the Rōshi Corps persuaded the authorities to consider a less dangerous solution to the problem.

A less dangerous solution availed itself in connection with recent developments in Edo. During the previous August, a British subject had been cut down in cold blood by samurai of the Satsuma clan. The murdered man and three of his countrymen had unintentionally interrupted the entourage of the Lord of Satsuma as it passed through the small village of Namamugi near Edo.§

      The British demanded reparations from Edo. The British fleet was now at Yokohama to await the outcome of talks between the two governments. Should the talks collapse, the British threatened to attack.

      Kiyokawa proposed that his Rōshi Corps be allowed to return immediately to Edo to help expel the foreigners. The Tokugawa authorities accepted the proposal, but with an ulterior motive. The shōgun had been intentionally vague in his promise of Jōi. He would not be bound by an imperial edict that he knew he could not obey. But the Edo regime was no stranger to deceit. The Bakufu arranged for an order to be issued by an imperial advisor for the corps to return to Edo under the pretext that, in case of war, they would finally have their chance to fight the foreigners. But the true motive of the Tokugawa authorities was, of course, to rein in Kiyokawa and his followers before they could do any serious damage.

      The imperial order notwithstanding, a small number of the corps defected and remained in Kyōto. Thirteen of these defectors, most of whom hailed from either Mito Han or the province of Musashi near Edo, bore a special loyalty to the shōgun. They had come to Kyōto under orders from the Bakufu, for the dual purpose of guarding the shōgun and expelling the foreigners. They would not obey an order to retreat issued by an imperial advisor who was swayed by a self-professed enemy of the Tokugawa. Rather, they resolved to quit the Rōshi Corps in order to achieve their “loyal and patriotic” objective under the authority of the shōgun. The thirteen defectors petitioned the protector of Kyōto for official permission to remain in the Imperial Capital to “guard the shōgun until he returns to Edo.” Their petition was readily accepted. These thirteen comprised the original membership of the dreaded Shinsengumi.

      Kiyokawa Hachirō did not abandon his dissentious designs. Soon after returning to Edo he devised a plot to attack the foreign settlement at Yokohama. He recruited five hundred men to participate in the uprising, including Yamaoka Tetsutarō, who had returned with him. They intended to burn the town, and in the ensuing chaos slaughter as many foreigners as possible. They would set fire to the foreign ships that lay in port, plunder the coffers at the foreign government offices, march some ninety miles west of Edo to the domain of Kōfu, and capture that castle as a military base from which to finally wage war against the foreigners. When the Bakufu received word of the plot, the order for Kiyokawa’s assassination was issued.

      One morning in mid-April, two days before the planned uprising, Kiyokawa brushed off admonishments by friends that his life was in danger. He had an important appointment to keep at the home of a friend whom he intended to recruit for the Yokohama attack. But this friend turned out to be a traitor who had informed the Bakufu of the plan. The traitor made sure that Kiyokawa was treated to a generous amount of saké. When his intoxicated guest stood up to leave in the late afternoon, the host insisted on accompanying him along the way, citing the danger to his life.

Kiyokawa was ambushed shortly afterward by six swordsmen of the Tokugawa camp. He screamed, perhaps the name of one of his assailants, Sasaki Tadasaburō, whom he recognized as a fencing instructor at the Bakufu’s Military Academy.¶ Before Kiyokawa could draw his sword, he was cut from behind. Blood sprayed from his body as he collapsed on the street.

      With Kiyokawa’s death, the planned attack on Yokohama was foiled. When word of the assassination reached a fellow conspirator, he became worried. Kiyokawa had been carrying a list of the five hundred men involved in the plot. If this list were to fall into the hands of the Edo authorities, all five hundred would be implicated, including the fellow conspirator. He rushed to the scene of the assassination. He found the body of his friend sprawled on the cruel ground. The swords were still in their scabbards. The body was dressed in wide trousers of gray stripes, and a black coat lined with silk. On the right side of the corpse was the severed head, the black hair still tied in a topknot. Nearby was a military helmet made of black lacquered cypress. The backside of the body was sliced open horizontally. A deep gash on the left shoulder was visible, and the right side was cut open cleanly to the nape of the neck. The right arm extended outward. Next to the right hand was an iron-ribbed fan, as if Kiyokawa had been holding it when attacked.

      The fellow conspirator immediately searched through the pockets. To his great relief, he found the list. Wary of being discovered, he was eager to vacate the scene. But he felt obligated to at least give the head a proper burial. He removed the black coat. He wrapped the head in the coat, and carried the grim package to Yamaoka’s house. Yamaoka preserved the head in sugar. He hid it in the closet, but after a few days the stench became unbearable. Soon a local police officer cast a suspicious eye. To avoid detection, Yamaoka hid the head in a garbage bin, but the stench remained. When he attempted to grasp the head by the hair to remove it from the bin, the strands came out and he lost his grip. But he managed to bring the head to the adjacent training hall, where he removed one of the wooden planks and buried it under the floor.