The statue of Ōkuma Shigenobu stands within the cloister. Before its gaze stretches Ōkuma Garden — where once the Ōkuma residence stood.
The walls gleam, dazzling in the sunlight;
by night, a warm glow lights the arches of the auditorium’s façade.
As though in gentle contrast to that imposing front,
the Romanesque cloister on the northern side
has always softly received
the greenery of Ōkuma Garden,
its colours changing with the seasons.
From the cloister, the statue of Ōkuma Shigenobu,
the university’s first President,
gazes out upon the garden in full court dress.
It was unveiled in 1907,
to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the university’s founding
and Ōkuma’s seventieth year.
That same year, Ōkuma resigned as head of the Kensei Hontō Party,
withdrawing for a time from the brilliant, bitter world of politics,
and took up the presidency of Waseda University.
“A mere student;
for half my life, a samurai…
or, to put it plainly, a country samurai.”
For Ōkuma, who so described himself,
to be cast in bronze
in the formal attire of a count decorated with the First Order of Merit
had already, even then, drawn a variety of opinions.
Perhaps mindful of such murmurs beforehand,
he spoke as follows at the unveiling ceremony:
Life is, in truth, a very brief thing.
There is no house in this world that lasts a thousand years.
No hero, no great man, no man of wealth
has a house that lasts a thousand years.
Mankind is ever renewed, one generation giving way to the next.
* * *
And yet an institution such as a school
is something enduring.
It is an organisation possessed of a lasting life.
That my bronze statue should be erected
in such a place of learning,
a place filled with hope for the future,
is to me a matter of considerable embarrassment.
* * *
Though a school may be called semi-permanent,
if its methods are ill chosen,
there is no assurance that it will not fall into decline.
Yet perhaps, when the school enters difficult times,
this bronze statue may bring to mind
those earlier days of hardship,
and may serve some purpose
in helping people endure.
With no thought beyond this,
I can only allow myself a modest satisfaction.
The finite life of man;
the enduring life of a university.
And yet, when that university should one day face a crisis,
this bronze figure of the country samurai in full court dress
may perhaps become a source of encouragement
to those cast down by disappointment.
Before the solemn bronze likeness,
arrayed in courtly attire,
one can almost see Ōkuma himself —
with a faint, self-conscious smile.
Translated from the article 大礼服姿の田舎武士 published on 2017-02-24.
