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Title: The Making of Modern Japan _ An Account of the Progress of Japan from Pre-feudal Days to Constitutional Government & the Position of a Great Power, With Chapters on Religion, the Complex Family System, Education, &c.
Author: Gubbins, John Harington
Language: English
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_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
A DICTIONARY OF CHINESE-JAPANESE WORDS IN THE JAPANESE LANGUAGE. (3
Vols.)
THE CIVIL CODE OF JAPAN. (2 Vols.)
With an Introduction on the Japanese Family System.
THE PROGRESS OF JAPAN (1853–71).
THE JAPAN HANDBOOK
(Published by Foreign Office.)
REPORT ON TAXATION AND LAND TENURE
(Parliamentary Papers Series). Etc.
THE MAKING OF MODERN JAPAN
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Describing its beauties, & the habits and customs, & gradual
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By Prof. J. W. GREGORY, D.Sc., F.R.S. With many Illustrations &
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when the Ports were Opened & the Monarchy Restored, Recorded by a
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A Sketch of the History of Mankind from the Earliest Times. By Prof.
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SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LTD.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
PRINCE IWAKURA.
Descended from an ancient family of Court Nobles; he was a leading
figure in the Restoration Movement, and in the Government
subsequently formed.
]
THE MAKING OF MODERN JAPAN
AN ACCOUNT OF THE PROGRESS OF JAPAN FROM PRE-FEUDAL DAYS TO
CONSTITUTIONAL GOVERNMENT & THE POSITION OF A GREAT POWER, WITH CHAPTERS
ON RELIGION, THE COMPLEX FAMILY SYSTEM, EDUCATION, &c.
BY
J. H. GUBBINS, C.M.G., HON. M.A.(OXON.)
LATE FIRST SECRETARY & JAPANESE SECRETARY OF BRITISH EMBASSY, TOKIO,
AUTHOR OF “A DICTIONARY OF CHINESE-JAPANESE WORDS IN THE JAPANESE
LANGUAGE,” “THE PROGRESS OF JAPAN,” “THE CIVIL CODE OF JAPAN,” &c., &c.,
&c.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LIMITED
38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET
1922
TO
THE MEMORY
OF
MY WIFE
PREFACE
The Author’s thanks are due to His Excellency Baron G. Hayashi, H.I.J.M.’s
Ambassador in London, for most kindly referring to a competent authority
in Japan, for confirmation, a doubtful point in feudal land tenure; to
Prince Iwakura, Marquis Ōkubo, and Marquis Kido for photographs of three
of the eminent statesmen whose portraits appear; to the Right Honorable
Sir Ernest Satow for the trouble he took in reading the MS. of the book;
to Sir E. F. Crowe, C.M.G., Commercial Counsellor of the British Embassy
in Tōkiō, for very useful help given in various ways; and to Miss Maud
Oxenden for valuable assistance in proof-correcting.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
Early History—The Great Reform—Adoption of Chinese Culture 17
CHAPTER II
Establishment of Feudalism and Duarchy—The Shōgunate and the
Throne—Early Foreign Relations—Christian Persecution and Closure
of Country 24
CHAPTER III
The Tokugawa Shōguns—Consolidation of Duarchy 32
CHAPTER IV
Political Conditions—Reopening of Japan to Foreign
Intercourse—Conclusion of Treaties—Decay of Shōgunate 42
CHAPTER V
Anti-Foreign Feeling—Chōshiū Rebellion—Mikado’s Ratification of
Treaties—Prince Kéiki—Restoration Movement—Civil War—Fall of
Shōgunate 53
CHAPTER VI
Japanese Chronology—Satsuma and Chōshiū Clans—The “Charter Oath” 68
CHAPTER VII
New Government—Clan Feeling in Satsuma—Administrative
Changes—Reformers and Reactionaries 77
CHAPTER VIII
Abolition of Feudal System—Reconstitution of Classes—Effects of
Abolition of Feudalism 87
CHAPTER IX
Effects of Abolition of Feudalism on Agricultural Class—Changes in
Land Tenure—Land-Tax Revision 97
CHAPTER X
Missions to Foreign Government—Hindrances to Reform—Language
Difficulties—Attitude of Foreign Powers 107
CHAPTER XI
Changes and Reforms—Relations with China and Korea—Rupture in
Ministry—Secession of Tosa and Hizen Leaders—Progress of
Reforms—Annexation of Loochoo—Discontent of Former Military
Class 117
CHAPTER XII
Local Risings—Satsuma Rebellion—Two-Clan Government 129
CHAPTER XIII
Japanese Religions before Restoration: Shintō and Buddhism 139
CHAPTER XIV
Japanese Religions after Restoration:
Christianity—_Bushidō_—Religious Observances 145
CHAPTER XV
Political Unrest—The Press—Press Laws—Conciliation and
Repression—Legal Reforms—Failure of Yezo Colonization
Scheme—Ōkuma’s Withdrawal—Increased Political Agitation 152
CHAPTER XVI
Promise of Representative Government—Political Parties—Renewed
Unrest—Local Outbreaks 162
CHAPTER XVII
Framing of Constitution—New Peerage—Reorganization of
Ministry—English Influence—Financial Reform—Failure of
Conferences for Treaty Revision 172
CHAPTER XVIII
Imperial Authority—Privy Council—Local
Self-Government—Promulgation of Constitution—Imperial
Prerogatives—The Two Houses of Parliament—Features of
Constitution and First Parliamentary Elections 181
CHAPTER XIX
Working of Representative Government—Stormy Proceedings in
Diet—Legal and Judicial Reform—Political Rowdyism—Fusion of
Classes 192
CHAPTER XX
Working of Parliamentary Government—Grouping of Parties—Government
and Opposition—Formation of _Seiyūkai_—Increasing Intervention
of Throne—Decrease of Party Rancour—Attitude of Upper House 197
CHAPTER XXI
Treaty Revision—Great Britain takes Initiative—Difficulties with
China 204
CHAPTER XXII
China and Korea—War with China—Naval Reform—Defeat of China—Treaty
of Shimonoséki—Peace Terms 214
CHAPTER XXIII
Militarist Policy—Liaotung Peninsula—Intervention of Three
Powers—Leases of Chinese Territory by Germany, Russia, Great
Britain and France—Spheres of Interest 223
CHAPTER XXIV
American Protest against Foreign Aggression in China—Principle of
“Open Door and Equal Opportunity”—Financial Reform—Operation of
Revised Treaties—The Boxer Outbreak—Russia and Manchuria 234
CHAPTER XXV
Agreement between Great Britain and Germany—The Anglo-Japanese
Alliance 245
CHAPTER XXVI
War with Russia—Success of Japan—President Roosevelt’s
Mediation—Treaty of Portsmouth—Peace Terms 254
CHAPTER XXVII
Weakening of Cordiality with America—Causes of Friction—Expansion
and Emigration—Annexation of Korea—New Treaties 265
CHAPTER XXVIII
Rise of Japan and Germany Compared—Renewal of Anglo-Japanese
Alliance—Japan and the Great War—Military and Naval
Expansion—Japan and China—The Twenty-one Demands—Agreement with
Russia regarding China—Lansing-Ishii Agreement—Effects of Great
War on Situation in Far East 274
CHAPTER XXIX
The Japanese Family System 283
CHAPTER XXX
Education 292
CHAPTER XXXI
The Makers of Modern Japan—How Japan is Governed 300
Index 307
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PRINCE IWAKURA _Frontispiece_
PAGE
ŌKUBO ICHIZŌ 72
KIDO JUNICHIRŌ 80
MARQUIS INOUYÉ 104
MARQUIS ŌKUMA 104
PRINCE ITŌ 176
MARQUIS MATSUGATA 184
FIELD-MARSHAL PRINCE ŌYAMA 184
FIELD-MARSHAL PRINCE YAMAGATA 216
MARQUIS SAIONJI 248
GENERAL PRINCE KATSURA 248
The Making of Modern Japan
CHAPTER I
Early History—The Great Reform—Adoption of Chinese Culture.
There is much speculation, but no certainty, regarding the origin of the
Japanese people. It is, however, generally held that the Japanese race
is made up of two main elements—one Mongolian, which came to Japan from
Northern Asia by way of Korea, and the other Malayan; a third strain
being possibly supplied to some small extent by the Ainu aborigines,
whom the invaders found in occupation of the country. The prevailing
type of feature is Mongolian, though scientific research claims to have
discovered traces of the physical characteristics of other Asiatic
races.
If the earliest Japanese records provide little trustworthy material for
the historian, they show how the legendary heroes of oral tradition
became in the hands of successive chroniclers the deified ancestors of
the reigning dynasty, and indicate the process of transition by which
the feelings of respect and admiration they inspired developed into a
popular belief in the quasi-divinity of Japanese Sovereigns. It is in
this no-man’s-land, where no clear boundaries divide fable from history,
that we are from the first confronted with the primitive native
religion, and realize its weakness as a civilizing influence. From these
same records, nevertheless, as well as from scanty Chinese sources, we
glean certain general facts bearing on the early development of Japan.
Chinese culture is seen trickling in at a very early date; we hear of
the adoption at some time in the fifth century of Chinese ideographs,
the Japanese following in this respect the example of their Korean
neighbours, who, like themselves, had originally no written language of
their own; and we learn of the introduction of Buddhism a century later.
The advent of Buddhism was a notable factor in Japan’s progress. Its
missionaries assisted the spread of the Chinese written language, and
thus paved the way for the introduction in A.D. 645 of what is known as
the Great Reform.
The Great Reform gave its name to the first year-period of Japanese
chronology, and to Japanese history its first certain date. It was the
outcome of a movement having for its object the repair of the authority
of the Throne, which had been weakened by the separatist tendencies of
the Sōga family. The new form of government then established, in
imitation of changes made under the T’ang dynasty in China, was a
centralized bureaucracy. The supreme control of affairs was vested in
the Council of State. In this Council the Prime Minister presided, and
with him were associated the two assistant Ministers of State and the
President of the Privy Council. Of the eight Boards, or Departments of
State, five dealt mainly, but by no means exclusively, with matters
relating to Ceremonial, Religion, the Army, Finance and Taxation
respectively; the other three having the direction of business connected
more immediately with the Imperial Court. There seems, however, to have
been no very clear-cut division of business, Court interests being
apparently mixed up with the affairs of every department. This change in
the form of government was only one of many results caused by the inrush
of Chinese ideas at this time. The influence of the wave of Chinese
culture which swept over the country permeated every part of the
national fabric, remodelling the social system, and laying the
foundations of Japanese law, education, industries and art.
Later on provision was made for the establishment of a regency during
the minority of a reigning Sovereign, the regent (_Sesshō_) by virtue of
his office ranking at the head of the official hierarchy. When the
regency expired, the ex-regent assumed the title of _Kwambaku_ (or
_Sesshō-Kwambaku_), retaining his official precedence. The two posts
were subsequently separated, and, like all other Court offices, became,
as the authority of the Court declined, mere honorary titles. Both posts
and honorary titles were hereditary in certain branches of the Fujiwara
family, the only exception to this rule occurring in the sixteenth
century.
It was not till the eighth century that the Japanese elaborated a
written language of their own. The Koreans had done so already, but the
two written languages thus superadded to what was borrowed from China
have nothing in common. That of the Japanese consists of two different
scripts, each adapted from Chinese characters. The Korean script bears
no resemblance to Chinese. Both countries have good reason to regard as
a very doubtful blessing the possession of two spoken and two written
languages.
At this early stage in Japanese history three things stand out
prominently: the welcome given to foreign ideas; the duality of religion
and language; and the curious atmosphere of divinity surrounding the
Throne, which by an easy process of transition came to be regarded by
the people as a natural attribute of their country and of themselves. It
is not surprising, therefore, to find in the development of Japan two
opposite tendencies constantly at work—the assimilation of new ideas
from abroad, and reaction in favour of native institutions. Together
with the readiness to adopt foreign ideas, to which the seventh century
bears such striking witness, there existed an intense national pride—a
belief in the superiority of Japan, “the country of the Gods,” to all
other lands. The existence of these two contrary currents of popular
feeling, in which religion, politics and language all play their part,
may be traced through the whole course of Japanese history.
The strengthening of the Throne’s authority, which was effected by the
Great Reform, lasted but a short time, the ruling power soon passing
again into the hands of another powerful family, the House of Fujiwara.
But the centralized bureaucratic form of government borrowed from China
survived, and with it the fiction of direct Imperial rule.
During the long ascendancy, covering more than three centuries, of the
House of Fujiwara the Sovereigns, despite their assumption of the
recognized titles of Chinese Emperors, sank into the position of mere
puppets, removable at the will of the patrician rulers. It is important
to note, however, that neither the nominal authority of the occupant of
the Throne nor the power of the _de facto_ Government during this
period, and for many years after, extended much beyond the centre of
Japan. The loyalty of district governors in the south and west was
regulated by their distance from the seat of administration. To the
north and east, again, the country was in the possession of the Ainu
aborigines, with whom a desultory warfare was carried on until their
eventual expulsion to the northern island of Yezo.
Early in the twelfth century the Fujiwara _régime_ came to an end. The
succeeding administrators were members of the Taira family, which had
gradually risen to importance, and wielded the predominant influence in
the country. Fifty years later their position was successfully
challenged by the rival House of Minamoto, which, like its two
predecessors, could claim royal descent. The long struggle between these
two houses ended in the final overthrow of the Taira family in the sea
battle of Dan-no-Ura (A.D. 1155) and the establishment of the feudal
system, in other words, of a military government.
Yoritomo, the Minamoto leader, who then rose to power, received from the
Court the title of Shōgun (or General), a contraction of the fuller
appellation _Sei-i-Tai-Shōgun_. This may be rendered Barbarian-quelling
Generalissimo, and was the term originally applied to generals employed
in fighting the Ainu aborigines in the North-Eastern marches. With the
assumption of this title the term itself developed a new meaning, for it
was not as the general of an army that he thenceforth figured, but as
the virtual ruler of Japan. His advent to power marks a new phase in
Japanese history, the inception of a dual system of government based on
feudalism, which lasted, except for a short period in the sixteenth
century, until modern times.
With the establishment of a military government the classification of
society was changed. Thenceforth there were three recognized divisions
of the people—the _Kugé_, or Court aristocracy, constituting the former
official hierarchy, which, becoming more and more impoverished as the
connection of its members with the land ceased, gradually sank into the
position of a negligible factor in the nation; the _Buké_, or military
class, which included both daimiōs and their retainers, and out of which
the new official hierarchy was formed; and the _Minké_, or general
public, which comprised farmers, artizans and tradesmen, or merchants,
ranking in the order named.
Feudalism was no sudden apparition. It was no mushroom growth of a
night. The importance of the military class had been growing steadily
during the prolonged civil strife from which the Minamoto family had
emerged victorious. This and the increasing weakness of the Government
had brought about a change in provincial administration. Civil
governors, dependent on the Capital, had gradually given place to
military officials, with hereditary rights, who looked elsewhere for
orders; manorial estates were expanding into territories with castles to
protect them; and local revenues no longer flowed with regularity into
State coffers. Thus in more than one manner the way had been prepared
for feudalism.
The same may be said of the dual system of administration, though here
the question is less simple. From all that history tells us, and from
its even more eloquent silence, there is good reason to question the
existence at any time of direct Imperial rule. We hear of no Mikado ever
leading an army in the field, making laws or dispensing justice, or
fulfilling, in fact, any of the various functions associated with
sovereignty, save those connected with public worship. This absence of
personal rule, this tendency to act by proxy, is in keeping with the
atmosphere of impersonality which pervades everything Japanese, and is
reflected in the language of the people. Everything tends to confirm the
impression that the prestige of sovereignty in Japan thus lay rather in
the institution itself than in the personality of the rulers. The casual
manner in which succession was regulated; the appearance on the Throne
of Empresses in a country where little deference was paid to women; the
preference repeatedly shown for the reign of minors; the _laisser-aller_
methods of adoption and abdication; the easy philosophy which saw
nothing unusual in the association of three abdicated, or cloistered,
monarchs with a reigning sovereign; and the general indifference of the
public to the misfortunes which from time to time befel the occupant of
the Throne, all point in the same direction—the withdrawal of the
Sovereign at an early date from all active participation in the work of
government. In so far, therefore, as the personal rule of the Sovereign
was concerned it seems not unreasonable to regard the dual system of
government established at this time as the formal recognition of what
already existed. Its association with feudalism, however, brought about
an entirely new departure. Kiōto, indeed, continued to be the national
capital. There the former Ministers of State remained with all the empty
paraphernalia of an officialdom which had ceased to govern. But a new
seat of administration was set up at Kamakura, to which all men of
ability were gradually attracted. Thenceforth the country was
administered by a military government directed by the Shōgun at
Kamakura, while the Sovereign lived in seclusion in the Capital,
surrounded by a phantom Court, and an idle official hierarchy.
In this question of government there is still something further to be
explained. It should be understood that the Shōgun did not personally
rule any more than the Mikado. What for want of a better name may be
termed the figure-head system of government is noticeable throughout the
whole course of Japanese history. Real and nominal power are rarely seen
combined either socially or politically. The family, which is the unit
of society, is nominally controlled by the individual who is its head.
But practically the latter is in most cases a figure-head, the real
power being vested in the group of relatives who form the family
council. The same principle applied to the administration of feudal
territories. These were not administered by the feudal proprietors
themselves. The control was entrusted to a special class of hereditary
retainers. Here again, however, the authority was more nominal than
real, the direction of affairs being left, as a rule, to the more active
intelligence of retainers of inferior rank. Similarly the Shōgun was
usually a mere puppet in the hands of his Council, the members of which
were in turn controlled by subordinate office-holders. This predilection
for rule by proxy was encouraged by the customs of adoption and
abdication, the effects of which, as regards Mikado and Shōgun alike,
were seen in shortness of reign, or administration, and the frequency of
the rule of minors.
The highly artificial and, indeed, contradictory character which
distinguished all Japanese administration had certain advantages.
Abdication was found to be not incompatible in practice with an active,
though unacknowledged, supervision of affairs. It also provided a
convenient method of getting rid of persons whose presence in office was
for any reason inconvenient. In a society, too, where adoption was the
rule rather than the exception the failure of a direct heir to the
Throne, or Shōgunate, presented little difficulty. It was a thing to be
arranged by the Council of State, just as in less exalted spheres such
matters were referred to the family council. Questions of succession
were thus greatly simplified. In this contradiction, moreover, between
appearance and reality, in the retention of the shadow without the
substance of power, lay the strength of both monarchy and Shōgunate. It
was, in fact, the secret of their stability, and explains the unbroken
continuity of the dynasty on which the nation prides itself. Under such
a system the weakness or incompetence of nominal rulers produced no
violent convulsions in the body politic. The machinery of government
worked smoothly on, unaffected by the personality of those theoretically
responsible for its control; and as time went by the tendency of office
to divorce itself from the discharge of the duties nominally associated
with it increased everywhere, with the result that in the last days of
the Shōgunate administrative policy was largely inspired at the seat of
government by subordinate officials, and in the clans by retainers of
inferior standing.
The question of dual government, which has led to this long digression,
was more or less of a puzzle to foreigners from the time when Jesuit
missionaries first mistook Shōguns for Mikados; and it was not until
after the negotiation of the first treaties with Western Powers that it
was discovered that the title of Tycoon given to the Japanese ruler in
these documents had been adopted for the occasion, in accordance with a
precedent created many years before, in order to conceal the fact that
the Shōgun, though ruler, was not the Sovereign.
CHAPTER II
Establishment of Feudalism and Duarchy—The Shōgunate and the
Throne—Early Foreign Relations—Christian Persecution and Closure of
Country.
The fortunes of the first line of Kamakura Shōguns, so called from the
seat of government being at that place, gave no indication of the
permanence of duarchy, though it may have encouraged belief in the truth
of the Japanese proverb that great men have no heirs. Neither of
Yoritomo’s sons who succeeded him as Shōgun showing any capacity for
government, the direction of affairs fell into the hands of members of
the Hōjō family, who, by a further extension of the principle of ruling
by proxy, were content to allow others to figure as Shōguns, while they
held the real power with the title of regents (_Shikken_). Some of these
puppet Shōguns were chosen from the Fujiwara family, which had governed
the country for more than three centuries. Others were scions of the
Imperial House. This connection of the Shōgunate with the Imperial
dynasty, though only temporary, is a point to be noted, since under
other circumstances it would suggest a devolution rather than a
usurpation of sovereign rights.
It was in the thirteenth century, during the rule of the Hōjō regent
Tokimuné, that the Mongol invasions took place. The reigning Mikado was
a youth of nineteen; the Shōgun an infant of four. The six centuries
which had elapsed since the Great Reform had witnessed notable changes
in the countries which were Japan’s nearest neighbours. In China the
Mongol dynasty was established. In Korea the four states into which the
peninsula had originally been divided had disappeared one after the
other. In their place was a new kingdom, then called for the first time
by its modern name. The new kingdom did not retain its independence
long. It was attacked and overthrown by the armies of Kublai Khan, the
third Mongol Emperor. By the middle of the thirteenth century the King
of Korea had acknowledged the suzerainty of China. Kublai Khan then
turned his attention to Japan.
It was customary in those times for congratulatory missions to be sent
by one country to another when a new dynasty was established or a new
reign began, the presents exchanged on these occasions being usually
termed gifts by the country offering them, and tribute by that which
received them. The relations between Japan and the new Kingdom of Korea
had been on the whole friendly, though disturbed from time to time by
the piratical forays which seem to have been of frequent occurrence. But
after Korea had lost her independence she was obliged to throw in her
lot with China. When, therefore, in 1268, Kublai Khan sent an envoy to
Japan to ask why since the beginning of his reign no congratulatory
mission had reached Peking from the Japanese Court, the messenger
naturally went by way of Korea, and was escorted by a suite of Koreans.
The ports in the province of Chikuzen, on the north of Kiūshiū, the
southernmost of the Japanese islands, were the places through which
communications between Japan and the mainland were then carried on; and
it was at Dazaifu in that province, the centre of local administration,
that the envoy delivered his letter. This was in effect a demand for
tribute, and the Regent’s refusal even to answer the communication was
met by the despatch in the summer of 1275 of a Mongol force, accompanied
by a Korean contingent. Having first occupied the islands of Tsushima
and Iki, which form convenient stepping-stones between Korea and Japan,
the invaders landed in Kiūshiū in the north-west of the province already
mentioned. After a few days’ fighting they were forced to re-embark. In
their retreat they encountered a violent storm, and only the shattered
remnants of the Armada returned to tell the tale. A second invasion, six
years later, planned on a far larger scale, and supported, as before, by
Korean auxiliaries, met with a similar fate. On this occasion severer
fighting occurred. The positions captured at the place of landing in the
province of Hizen were held by the invaders for some weeks. Thence,
however, they could make no headway. When they at length withdrew in
disorder a violent storm again came to the aid of the defenders and
overwhelmed the hostile fleets. The preparations begun by Kublai Khan
for a third invasion were abandoned at his death a few years later. From
that time Japan was left undisturbed.
The circumstances attending the fall of the Hōjō regents in 1333, and
their replacement by the Ashikaga line of Shōguns, are noteworthy for
the light they throw on the state of the country, and the unstable and,
indeed, ludicrous conditions under which the government was carried on.
It seemed for a moment as if the authority of the Court was about to be
revived. But with the overthrow of the regents the movement in this
direction stopped. The military class was naturally reluctant to
surrender the power which had come into its hands; the position of the
Mikado was also weakened by a dispute regarding his rights to the
Throne. He had just returned from banishment, and had been at once
reinstated as Emperor. But during his absence another Emperor had been
placed on the Throne, and there were those who thought the latter had a
right to remain. In the previous century it had been arranged, in
accordance with the will of a deceased Emperor, that the Throne should
be occupied alternately by descendants of the senior and junior branches
of the Imperial House. This rule had been followed in filling the
vacancy caused by the banishment of the previous Mikado, and the branch
of the Imperial House which suffered by his reinstatement refused to
accept the decision. Each claimant to the Throne found partizans amongst
the feudal chieftains. Thus were formed two rival Courts, the Northern
and the Southern, which disputed the Crown for nearly sixty years. The
contest ended in the triumph in 1393 of the Northern Court. Having the
support of the powerful Ashikaga family, it had early in the course of
the struggle asserted its superiority, the Ashikaga leader becoming
Shōgun in 1338.
The rule of the Ashikaga Shōguns lasted until the middle of the
sixteenth century, though for several years before it ended the control
of affairs was exercised by others in their name. During this period,
which was favourable to the growth of art and literature, the seat of
government kept changing from Kamakura to the Capital and back again.
The former city shared the fate of the dynasty, and after its
destruction was never rebuilt.
A break then occurred in the sequence of Shōguns. The chief power passed
into the hands of two military leaders, Nobunaga and Hidéyoshi, neither
of whom founded a dynasty or bore the title of Shōgun. By their efforts
the country was gradually freed from the anarchy which had ensued during
the last years of Ashikaga administration. Though here and there
throughout the country there remained districts whose feudal lords
insisted on settling their quarrels themselves, a more stable condition
of things was introduced, and the work of the founder of the next and
last line of Shōguns was greatly facilitated.
Europe had long before heard of Japan through the writings of the
Venetian traveller, Marco Polo, who had visited the Court of Kublai Khan
and there learned the failure of the Mongol invasions. It was not,
however, till the middle of the sixteenth century, during the ascendancy
of the first of the two military leaders above mentioned, that
intercourse with European countries was established. The Portuguese were
the first to come, and for this reason. Portugal was then at the height
of her greatness as a maritime power; and by the Bulls of Pope Alexander
VI, which divided the new lands discovered in Asia and America between
her and Spain, those in Asia had fallen to her share. Some uncertainty
exists as to the exact date at which the new Western intercourse began,
and as to the identity of the first arrivals. Most authorities, however,
agree in thinking that the first European discoverers of Japan were
three Portuguese adventurers who, in the course of a voyage from Siam to
China in the summer or autumn of 1542, were driven by a storm on the
coast of Tanégashima, a small island lying midway between the southern
point of the province of Satsuma and Loochoo. The adventurers who landed
were successful in disposing of the cargo of their vessel, destined
originally for Chinese ports. Their knowledge of firearms made a
favourable impression, and the beginnings were thus laid of a trade with
the Portuguese possessions and settlements in the East and with the
mother country in Europe. Of greater interest and importance, however,
than this early trade is the fact that to Portuguese enterprise
Christianity owed its first introduction into Japan.
Seven years after the arrival of these involuntary traders, who had
spread the news of the strange country they had discovered, one of the
numerous Portuguese trading vessels which were thus attracted to Japan
landed at Kagoshima, the capital of the Satsuma province, three
missionaries—Xavier, Torres and Fernandez. Thenceforth, until the
closing of the country to all but the Chinese and Dutch, it was the
propagation of the Christian faith, not the progress of trade, which was
the important factor in Japan’s foreign relations.
The coming of the first missionaries took place at a time when the
widespread disorder which marked the closing years of the Ashikaga
administration was at its height. Though Nobunaga was rapidly acquiring
for himself a commanding position, the nation had not yet felt the full
weight of the hand which twenty years later was to take the first steps
towards the pacification of the country. The confusion of affairs
assisted the spread of the new religion, the opposition offered by some
of the leading daimiōs, such as the princes of Satsuma and Chōshiū,
being counterbalanced by the eagerness of others to profit by the
foreign trade which came with the missionaries; while Buddhist hostility
lost much of its sting after the power of the militant priesthood had
been crippled by Nobunaga.
The latter’s successor, Hidéyoshi, whom the Japanese regard as their
greatest military genius, shared neither his sympathy with Christianity
nor his dislike of Buddhism. To matters of religion he seemed to be
indifferent, his one aim being apparently to make himself master of
Japan. In a series of campaigns conducted in different parts of the
country he overcame the resistance of one feudal chief after another,
the last to submit to his authority being the Daimiō of Satsuma. His
ascendancy deprived Christianity of the advantage it had previously
derived from the unsettled condition of the country. His aim
accomplished, Hidéyoshi changed his attitude suddenly, and in 1587
issued an edict against Christianity. As a result of this edict the
missionaries were expelled from the Capital and the Christian church
there was pulled down. Though the Christian persecution dates from that
time, it was not prosecuted at first with much energy. Doubtless
Hidéyoshi was aware of the connection between Christianity and foreign
trade, and in his desire to profit by the latter was content not to push
matters to extremities. There may also be some truth in the suggestion
of the joint authors of _A History of Japan_ (1542–61) that he was
unwilling to incur the resentment of the numerous daimiōs in the south
of Japan who had welcomed the new religion. Be this as it may, the
initial stages of the persecution did not apparently affect missionary
activity very seriously. We do not hear of any falling off in the number
of converts, which is said to have attained about this time a total
little short of a million.
For nearly half a century the Jesuits had the field of missionary
enterprise in Japan to themselves. To this fact was largely due the
spread of the new religion. In 1591, however, the state of things was
altered by the arrival of members of other religious orders, who came in
the train of a Spanish ambassador from the Philippines. This
intrusion—which later on received the formal sanction of the Pope—was
resented by the Jesuits; and the position of the Christian Church,
already weakened by persecution, was not improved by the quarrels which
soon broke out between them and the new-comers. What would have been the
outcome of this change in the situation, if Hidéyoshi’s attention had
not been directed elsewhere, it is impossible to say. At this moment,
however, his ambition found a new outlet. Supreme now at home, he
conceived the idea of gaining fresh glory by conquests abroad. With this
object, he embarked on an invasion of Korea, intending ultimately to
extend his operations to China. His pretext, it is said, for invading
the neighbouring peninsula, like that of Kublai Khan in the case of
Japan, was that Korea had refused or neglected to send the usual
periodical missions. According to another, and perhaps more correct
account, he demanded that Korea should assist him in the invasion of
China in the same way as she had two centuries before aided the Mongols
in their invasion of Japan, a request which, it is said, was scornfully
refused.
The Korean campaign, in the course of which a Christian daimiō—Konishi,
the owner of an extensive fief in the province of Higo—greatly
distinguished himself, began in the spring of 1592, the last land
engagement being fought in the autumn of 1598. The war thus lasted
nearly seven years. The preparations made by Hidéyoshi were on an
extensive scale. The army of invasion numbered, if the statistics of
that time can be trusted, nearly 200,000 fighting men. As reinforcements
were sent from time to time from Japan, the number of troops employed
from first to last in the course of the war must have reached a very
high total. Hidéyoshi did not lead his army in person, but directed the
general plan of operations from Japan. The Japanese were at first
successful on land everywhere, though at sea they met with some serious
reverses. The Koreans were driven out of their capital, and the invaders
overran more than half of the country. Then, however, the Emperor of
China intervened in the struggle. Chinese armies entered Korea, and the
tide of victory turned against Japan. The retreat of the invaders
towards the coast was followed by overtures of peace, which resulted in
the suspension of hostilities in 1594. But the negotiations, in which
China took a leading part, broke down, and three years later a second
Japanese army landed in Korea. On this occasion the Japanese forces met
with more stubborn resistance. Chinese armies again came to the help of
Korea, and when Hidéyoshi died in 1598 the Japanese Government was only
too willing to make peace. The results of the war for Korea were
disastrous. The complete devastation wrought wherever the Japanese
armies had penetrated left traces which have never been entirely
effaced. Nor did Japan come out of the struggle with any profit. When
the final accounts were balanced all she had to show for her lavish
expenditure in lives and money was the establishment in Japan of a
colony of Korean potters, who were the first to make the well-known
Satsuma faience, and the doubtful privilege of keeping a small trading
post at the southern end of the Korean peninsula.
For some years after the Korean war had been brought to an end by the
death of Hidéyoshi the position of the Christian Church showed little
change. It was not until 1614, by which time a new line of Shōguns was
ruling the country, that rigorous measures were adopted against the new
religion. The edict which then appeared ordered the immediate expulsion
of all missionaries, and its issue was followed by a fierce outbreak of
persecution in all parts of Japan where converts or missionaries were to
be found.
Evidence of the contradictory state of things then existing is furnished
by the fact that in that very year an Embassy to the Pope and to the
King of Spain was sent by the Japanese Daimiō of Sendai, whose fief was
in the north-east of Japan.
Meanwhile, in 1609, Dutch traders had established themselves in the
island of Hirado, where they were joined four years later by English
traders representing the East India Company. The latter had not the
resources necessary for so distant an undertaking, nor was the English
navy strong enough to support the Company’s enterprise against the
Dutch, who were then wresting from the Portuguese the supremacy in
Eastern waters. At the end of ten years, therefore, the trading station
was abandoned.
The Christian persecution continued with varying intensity for more than
twenty years, culminating in the insurrection of Shimabara in 1638. With
the bloody suppression of that rising, due as much to local
misgovernment as to religious causes, the curtain falls on the early
history of Christianity in Japan. Two years earlier, in 1636, an edict
issued by the third Shōgun, Iyémitsu, forbade all Japanese to go abroad,
reduced the tonnage of native vessels so as to render them unfit for
ocean voyages, and closed the country to all foreigners except the
Chinese and Dutch. The Portuguese were chiefly affected by this measure,
for the English had abandoned their trading enterprise in Hirado in
1623, and in the following year the rupture of relations with Spain had
put an end to the residence of Spanish subjects, thus justifying
Xavier’s warning that the King of Spain should be careful how he
interfered with Japan, in case he burnt his fingers. The Dutch owed
their escape from expulsion to the fact that the Japanese did not regard
them as being Christians at all, because of their openly expressed
hostility to the form of Christianity professed by the missionaries. In
neither case was the lot of the two favoured nationalities at all
enviable. In 1641 the Dutch were removed from Hirado and interned in
Déshima, an artificial island quarter of the town of Nagasaki; and some
fifty years later the Chinese, who had traded at that port in
comparative liberty from a date which is uncertain, were confined in an
enclosure close to the Dutch settlement. Here, paying dearly as State
prisoners for the commercial privileges they enjoyed, these traders
carried on a precarious and gradually dwindling commerce until Japan was
opened for the second time to foreign intercourse in the middle of the
nineteenth century.
CHAPTER III
The Tokugawa Shōguns—Consolidation of Duarchy.
The rule of Hidéyoshi was followed by that of a new line of Shōguns. The
circumstances under which it was established are well known. At the
death of Hidéyoshi in 1598 the government of the country was, during the
minority of his son Hidéyori, entrusted to five feudal nobles who acted
as regents. Of these, the most prominent was Tokugawa Iyéyasu, who had
married Hidéyoshi’s daughter, and whose feudal territories consisted of
the eight provinces in the east of the main island known as the Kwantō.
Disputes soon arose between the regents, and an appeal to arms resulted
in the decisive victory of Iyéyasu at Séki-ga-hara, near Lake Biwa. This
was in October, 1600. In 1603 he was appointed Shōgun, and twelve years
later the death, in what is known as the Ōsaka summer campaign, of
Hidéyori, the only personage who could challenge his supremacy, left him
without any dangerous rival. Now for the first time in Japanese history
the authority of the Shōgunate extended throughout the whole of Japan.
The prestige of the previous ruler had been as great, and his reputation
in the field higher, but he was not, like his successor, of Minamoto
stock, nor could he trace his descent from an Emperor; there were remote
districts in the country where his influence had not penetrated,
out-of-the-way places where his writ had never run. In founding a fresh
line of Shōguns the new ruler had other circumstances in his favour. The
country was tired of civil war and exhausted; the fighting power and
resources of turbulent chiefs had been weakened by long-continued
hostilities; and much of the work of pacification had been already done.
Although the Tokugawa Shōgunate was, in its main outlines, the
repetition of a government which had existed before, it differed in some
important respects from previous administrations.
The third Shōgun, the ruler responsible for the closing of the country,
put the finishing touches to the new system of government; but it owed
more to the genius of his grandfather, the founder of the line, who
framed it, supervised its operation and left posthumous instructions,
known as “The Hundred Articles,” to ensure its observance by his
successors. Japanese writers agree in stating that “The Hundred
Articles” give a general idea of the system of government established by
Iyéyasu. But it is a very general idea, a mere outline of things, that
we are thus enabled to glean. To fill in the details of the picture it
is necessary to draw on other sources of information.
The difference between the rule of Iyéyasu and that of previous Shōguns
lay in the more complete subjection of the Imperial Court, in the wider
range of his authority, which surpassed that of his two immediate
predecessors, and in the highly organized and stable character of the
administration he established. The changes he effected in the government
of the country may be conveniently considered under the following heads,
it being borne in mind that they were the work of several years, and
that many were made after his early abdication in 1605, when he was
governing the country, in the name of his son, the second Shōgun:—
1. Redistribution of feudal territories.
2. Position of feudal nobility.
3. Reorganization of central administration.
4. Relations between the Court and Shōgunate, and between the Court
and Court nobles and the feudal nobility.
1. The new Shōgun in establishing his rule followed the example of his
predecessors. Maps which give the distribution of feudal territories
before and after the year 1600, and again after the fall of Ōsaka in
1615, show the sweeping character of the changes he carried out on both
occasions. As a result of these changes, the most extensive fiefs at the
outset of Tokugawa rule were those held by the three Tokugawa Houses in
the provinces of Kii, Owari and Hitachi (Mito), to which may be added
those in the possession of the Daimiōs of Satsuma, Hizen, Chōshiū, Aki,
Tosa, Kaga, Échizen, Sendai and Mutsu.
2. Before the establishment of the Tokugawa Shōgunate the feudal nobles
were divided into three classes—lords of provinces, lords of territories
and lords of castles. In the organization of the feudal nobility, as
remodelled by Iyéyasu, this old division was retained, but he created
the three princely Houses of Owari, Kii and Mito (Hitachi), called
collectively the _Gosanké_, and placed them at the head of the new order
of precedence. It was from the two first-mentioned Houses, together with
the _Gosankiō_, a family group of later institution, that, failing a
direct heir, subsequent Shōguns were chosen. To the representative of
the third House—that of Mito—the position of Adviser to the Shōgunate
was assigned, and he was supposed to have a determining voice in the
selection of a new Shōgun when this became necessary. Another important
change was the separation of the feudal nobility into two broad
classes—the _Fudai_ daimiōs, or hereditary vassals, who had submitted to
the new ruler before the fall of Ōsaka, and the _Tozama_ daimiōs, who
had acknowledged his supremacy later. The former class alone had the
privilege of being employed in the Councils of State and the higher
administrative posts. Two new feudal groups also made their
appearance—the _Hatamoto_, or Bannermen, who filled the less important
administrative posts, besides supplying the personnel of the various
departments of State, and whose fiefs in some cases rivalled in extent
those of the smaller daimiōs; and the _Gokénin_, a kind of landed
gentry.
Full use, too, was made by the new ruler of the custom of retaining
hostages from the feudatories as a guarantee of loyalty, a practice
expanded under the second and third Shōguns into the system known as
_San-kin Kō-tai_. This provided for the residence of daimiōs in
alternate years at Yedo and in their fiefs, some members of their
families being permanently detained in the Tokugawa capital, which owed
its selection as the seat of government to its favourable location for
the commerce of that day at the head of the bay of the same name. The
system of State services (_Kokuyéki_), moreover, to which all daimiōs
were liable, was a rich source of revenue to the Shōgunate, while at the
same time it strengthened the authority of the Yedo Government. By these
expedients, and by the encouragement of ostentation in every form, the
feudal nobles were kept in strict subjection, the steady drain on their
finances making it difficult for them to escape from a condition of
impecuniosity. The expense of their annual journeys to and from the
Capital alone constituted a severe tax on their resources, and was the
main cause of the financial distress which existed at a later date in
many of the daimiates. Further and quite independent proof of the
unquestioned supremacy of the new Shōgun is supplied by the bestowal of
his early family name of Matsudaira not only on all the heads of feudal
families connected with his own, but on many of the leading lords of
provinces. Amongst other recipients of this questionable privilege—which
set the seal on the submission of the feudal nobility—were the daimiōs
of Satsuma, Chōshiū, Hizen, Tosa and Awa, whose retainers took a
prominent part in the Restoration of 1868–69. In these latter cases,
however, the old surnames were used alternately with the new
designations.
3. The main features of Tokugawa administration, as established by its
founder and modified by his immediate successors, remained practically
unchanged for two and a half centuries. Its form was a centralized
bureaucracy based on feudalism. The general direction of affairs was in
the hands of an upper and a lower Council of State, the members of which
were chosen from _Fudai_ daimiōs of varying distinction. There was
usually an inner circle of statesmen, with whom both initiative and
decision rested, while the lesser ranks of officials were recruited
chiefly from the _Hatamoto_. Decisions on grave matters of State in
times of emergency were referred, when necessary, to the _Gosanké_ and
other leading daimiōs, whose participation in these deliberations was,
however, often more nominal than real. A leading part in administration
was also played by the _Jisha-bugiō_, or Superintendents of Buddhist and
Shintō temples. In spite of the religious sound of their titles, these
executive officers had an important voice in State business of all
kinds. There was also the _Hiō-jō-sho_. This was an institution
resembling that originally created by the Kamakura Shōguns. Established
at a time when no clear distinction existed between executive and
judicial matters, it seems to have combined the functions of a Supreme
Administrative Board and a Superior Court of Justice. It took cognizance
of all sorts of questions, both executive and judicial, and, under the
latter head, of both civil and criminal cases, which were decided by a
special office known as the _Ketsudan-sho_, or Court of Decisions. The
matters which came before this Board ranged from disputes regarding
land, agriculture and taxation to questions concerning the boundaries of
fiefs and provinces; from complaints of the conduct of the feudal
nobility and Shōgunate officials to appeals from the decisions of local
authorities. The members of the Council of State had the right to attend
the sittings of the Board, being encouraged to make surprise visits in
order to ensure the rendering of impartial justice; and for the same
reason, apparently, in the earlier days of the Shōgunate, the attendance
of the Shōgun himself was not unusual. A similar Board at Ōsaka dealt
with questions referred to it from the provinces west of Kiōto, and with
appeals from the decisions of local authorities in the districts in
question.
Provincial administration varied according to the locality concerned.
What were known as the Shōgun’s domains—amounting in extent to nearly
one-third of the total area of the country—were administered by
Governors (_Daikwan_) appointed by the Shōgunate, this system prevailing
also in many of the Fudai daimiates and in certain coast towns. The
feudal territories in the rest of the country, with the exception named,
were governed by the clan rulers. A general supervision of affairs
throughout the country was also exercised by a special class of
officials called _Métsuké_. Their varied functions comprised those of
travelling inspectors and circuit judges; they were appointed to enquire
into the administration of feudal territories; and they were frequently
employed as deputies or assistants to governors, delegates and
commissioners, when their duty was to watch and report on the conduct of
their superiors. Hence the description of them as spies by foreign
writers on Japan—a description which was often correct. The system of
local government was based on groups of five households, or families,
each under the direction of a headman, and was the development of an
earlier form of tribal, or patriarchal, government introduced from China
at the time of the Great Reform. The headman of each group was subject,
in towns, to the control of the senior alderman of the ward, and, in
villages, to that of the mayor. The duties of these local officials,
whose posts were often hereditary, were to make known the orders of the
Central Government, or feudal authorities, as the case might be, to
administer justice and to collect taxes.
A noticeable feature of Tokugawa administration was the duplication of
offices. In this a resemblance may be traced to similar customs in other
Oriental countries such as Thibet, Siam and Nepal, the tendency which
inspired the practice being possibly one of the causes of the partiality
of the nation for dual government. The employment of _Métsuké_ in many
cases as supplementary officials has already been mentioned. The custom
was widespread, extending through all grades of the official class, and
survived in Loochoo until the annexation of that principality in 1879. A
curious proof of its prevalence was furnished at the time of the
negotiation by Great Britain of the Treaty of 1858. Struck by the double
title of the British negotiator, Lord Elgin and Kincardine, and arguing
from their own methods of procedure, the Japanese officials concluded
that two envoys had been sent, and when, in the course of the
negotiations, no second envoy appeared, they took occasion to enquire
after the missing Kincardine.
4. In his dealings with the Imperial Court at Kiōto the new Shōgun was
content, so far as outward formalities were concerned, to follow the
example of previous administrations, introducing, nevertheless, under
cover of conformity with ancient usage, many important changes. The
empty dignities of the Court were maintained with some increase of
ceremonial etiquette, though without the lavish display which had
reconciled the Throne to the rule of his predecessor. He was at the same
time careful to curtail whatever vestiges of Imperial authority still
remained. The measures taken for this purpose included the appointment
of a Resident (_Shoshidai_) in Kiōto, and a Governor (_Jōdai_) in Ōsaka;
the confinement of the reigning Emperor and cloistered ex-monarch (or
ex-monarchs, for there were not infrequently several abdicated
sovereigns at the same time) to their palaces; and the cessation of
Imperial “progresses”—the name given to Imperial visits to shrines; the
isolation of the Court by the interdict placed on the visits of feudal
nobles to the Capital, even sight-seeing being only permitted to them
within certain specified limits, and on condition of applying for
permission for this purpose; the isolation of the _Kugé_, or Court
nobility, by the prohibition of marriages and all monetary transactions
between them and feudal families; and the reorganization of the official
establishment of the Court, so as to bring it more completely under the
control of the Shōgunate. Iyéyasu also arranged the betrothal of his
granddaughter to the heir-apparent, an alliance not without precedent in
the past, and he enforced a stricter supervision over the Imperial
Household, the movements of Court ladies, and the daily routine of the
palace.
Some idea of the condition of subservience to which the Throne was
reduced, and of the arrogant position assumed by the new ruler, may be
gathered from a perusal of the “Law of the Court and Shōgunate,” which,
taken in conjunction with the “Law of the Imperial Court” and the
“Hundred Articles,” throws some light on the new order of things. One of
the provisions of the law in question transferred from the Court to the
Shōgunate the protection of the Throne against evil spirits by
abolishing the long-established _Riōbu Shintō_ processions in the
Capital, and by formally recognizing the Shintō deity, from whom this
protection was supposed to emanate, as the tutelary deity of the
Tokugawa family. The Shōgun was thus made responsible for the spiritual
guardianship of the Throne, the material protection over which he
already exercised in his capacity of supreme military ruler.
Though nothing of the substance of power was left to the Crown, the mere
fact that authority was exercised in its name led to much friction in
the relations between Kiōto and Yedo, and created an atmosphere of
make-believe in which everything moved. The Crown still retained the
nominal privilege of conferring the much-coveted Court titles. Its
nominal approval was also necessary to the investiture of a new Shōgun,
as well as to other important measures of State. It claimed the right,
moreover, to be consulted in regard to ceremonial observances of all
kinds, to questions of marriage, adoption, abdication and succession.
Naturally, therefore, the large number of questions calling for
discussion between the Court of the Mikado in the Capital and the Yedo
Government gave rise to a voluminous correspondence, the official
importance of which, however, was diminished by the presence of the
Shōgun’s Resident at Kiōto. In the singular official relations recorded
in this correspondence there is evidence of a settled policy on the part
of the Shōgunate to divert the attention of the Throne from serious
affairs and keep it occupied with the details of complicated ceremonial,
and, on the other hand, of constant, though fruitless, attempts on the
part of the Court to encroach on what had become the prerogatives of the
Shōgun.
One or two instances, taken at random from the history of the Tokugawa
period, will illustrate how the dual system of government worked in
practice; what little latitude was left to the Throne even in matters
which might be regarded as lying within its direct control; and how,
whenever friction arose, the Shōgunate invariably had its own way.
The first trial of strength between Kiōto and Yedo occurred soon after
Iyéyasu’s death, when his son Hidétada was Shōgun. The trouble arose out
of some irregularities which had occurred in the Imperial Household. The
Tokugawa administration was still in its infancy, and the Court nobles
showed a disposition to dispute its authority, some of them being
indiscreet enough to speak of the Yedo authorities as being Eastern
barbarians. The Shōgun adopted a high-handed attitude. He threatened to
break off the match between his daughter and the Emperor, which had
already received the Imperial sanction, and he went so far as to
intimate that the Emperor might be required to abdicate. His attitude
had the desired effect. The Court hastened to admit itself in the wrong,
and the affair ended in the banishment of three of the Court nobles.
Another and more serious quarrel occurred not long afterwards in the
reign of the same Emperor and during the rule of the third Shōgun, to
whom many of the later interpolations in the early Tokugawa laws are
generally ascribed. The cause of the dispute was a trivial matter—the
promotion by the Emperor, irregularly as the Shōgunate claimed, of
certain members of the Buddhist clergy connected with the Court. This
time it had a serious ending. The Emperor, mortified by what he regarded
as vexatious interference with his authority, resigned the Imperial
dignity, being succeeded on the Throne by his daughter, the child of the
Tokugawa princess already mentioned.
A third instance, convenient for our purpose, is typical of the
complications caused both in the matter of succession to the Throne, and
in appointments to the office of Shōgun, by the difficulty of
reconciling the custom of adoption with the dictates of filial piety, as
laid down in Confucian doctrine. The time was the end of the eighteenth
century. There were then a boy-Emperor eight years of age and a
boy-Shōgun a few years older. Each had been adopted by his predecessor,
who in each case had died shortly afterwards, the young Emperor’s
succession to the Throne antedating the appointment of the young Shōgun
by some six years. It was necessary to appoint a guardian for the young
Shōgun, and some members of the Yedo ministry wished to appoint to this
post the father, who belonged to the Hitotsubashi branch of the Tokugawa
family. This course received the support of the boy-Shōgun, who, to show
his filial respect, desired to instal his father with the title of
ex-Shōgun (_Taigiōsho_) in the palace at Yedo set apart for the Shōgun’s
heir. The proposal was resisted by the other Ministers on the ground
that it was against precedent and would disturb public morals, in which
ceremonial propriety played, as we know, so important a part. In the
event of the adoptive parent dying in the lifetime of the real
father—which in this case actually happened—the latter might, it was
said, claim to be received in the former’s place into the adoptive
family, a contingency which would lead to inconvenience and confusion.
While the dispute was going on matters were complicated by the receipt
of a similar request from the boy-Emperor in Kiōto, who desired that his
father might be honoured by being given the title of ex-Emperor. There
were precedents for the favour requested in the latter instance, and it
would probably have been granted had the Government not felt that the
concession would weaken their position in regard to the young Shōgun.
Both requests were consequently refused; whereupon stormy scenes, we are
told, occurred at the Yedo palace, in the course of which the Shōgun
drew his sword on one of the offending Councillors, and an angry
correspondence continued for two or three years between Kiōto and Yedo.
In the end neither request was granted, and the Ministers whose counsel
prevailed had at least the satisfaction of feeling that the apprehended
danger to public morals had been averted.
Before closing this chapter it may be convenient to dwell for a moment
on two points—the terms used to designate the Sovereign in Japan and the
titles of daimiōs.
That the impersonality shrouding everything Japanese, to which reference
has already been made, should show itself in the terms used to designate
the Sovereign is not surprising. Nor is it in any way strange that these
should include such expressions as “The Palace,” “The Palace Interior”
and “The Household,” for sovereigns are commonly spoken of in this way,
the habit having its origin in respect. What is curious is that in the
case of a sovereign venerated from the first as a God, and so closely
associated with the native faith, the terms by which he is known to his
subjects should, with one exception, be borrowed from China, and that
this one exception, the name “Mikado,” which means “Honourable Gate,”
should be the term least used.
The titles borne by the feudal nobility were of two kinds—territorial
titles, and the official titles conferred by the Court. The territorial
title of a daimiō consisted originally of the word _Kami_ joined to the
name of the province in which his territories lay. The title of a
daimiō, therefore, in early days had direct reference to the province in
which his fief was situated. In the course of time, however, though this
territorial title remained in general use, it by no means followed that
there was any connection between the particular province mentioned and
the territory actually possessed by a daimiō. This change in the
significance of the title was due to several causes: to the partition
amongst several daimiōs of lands originally held by a single individual,
to the removal of a daimiō to another fief, to which he often carried
his old title, and to the formation of cadet houses, which sometimes
retained the title of the senior branch. The multiplication of similar
titles led to much confusion, and in the later days of the Shōgunate, by
way of remedying this inconvenience, a daimiō on appointment to the
Council of State was obliged to change his title, if it were one already
borne by an older member.
The history of the other, or official, titles is this. When the
government of the country passed out of the hands of the _Kugé_ or Court
nobles, into those of the military class, the official posts previously
held by the former were filled by members of the feudal nobility, who
accordingly assumed the official titles attached to those posts. In the
course of time, as successive changes in the details of administration
occurred, the duties of these posts became merely nominal, until at last
the titles, some of which had become hereditary, came to be merely
honourable distinctions, having no connection with the discharge of
official duties. There were in Iyéyasu’s time about sixty of these
official titles, which were, nominally, in the gift of the Crown. Until
the end of the Shōgunate there was much competition for these titles,
which were the cause of constant intrigue between the Imperial Court and
the Yedo Government.
CHAPTER IV
Political Conditions—Reopening of Japan to Foreign
Intercourse—Conclusion of Treaties—Decay of Shōgunate.
Much space has been given in the preceding chapter to the Tokugawa
period of administration. For this no apology is due to the reader. The
period in question, held in grateful remembrance by the nation as the
Era of Great Peace, is the most important in Japanese history. This
importance it owes to its long duration; to the singular character of
its government—a centralized and autocratic bureaucracy flavoured with
feudalism; to the progress which took place in literature, art and
industry; to its being the immediate predecessor of what is known as the
Meiji Era—the reign of the late Emperor, which began in 1868; and,
consequently, to the fact that the Japanese people, as we see them
to-day, are the product of that period more than of any other. Before
leaving the subject, therefore, it may perhaps be convenient to explain
very briefly what kind of feudal system it was which formed, as it were,
the basis of Tokugawa government, for one feature of it still survives.
In his _History of the Civilization of Europe_, Guizot puts forward on
behalf of feudalism the claim that it constitutes an essential stage in
the evolution of nations. It certainly played a very noticeable part in
the development of Japan, lasting as it did from the close of the
twelfth century down to the middle of the nineteenth, a period of more
than seven hundred years. The French author and statesman in question,
however, might have been surprised had he known that one feature of
Japanese feudalism would survive its abolition, and that feature one not
known on the continent of Europe.
Though in its general character Japanese feudalism resembled the feudal
systems prevailing at various times in the continental countries of
Europe, in one respect—the position of the population inhabiting the
fiefs—it came closer to the clan type of Scottish feudalism; with this
important distinction, however, that, whereas the Scottish clan was a
family, or tribal, organization, the basis of the Japanese clan was
purely territorial, the clansmen being held together by no family link.
The Japanese word _Han_ (borrowed from China), the usual English
rendering of which is “clan,” does not, in its feudal sense, refer to
the territory included in a fief, but to the people inhabiting it. In
unsettled times, which were the rule and not the exception before the
middle of the sixteenth century, the map of feudal Japan was constantly
changing. The area of a fief expanded, or contracted, according to the
military fortunes of the daimiō concerned; and at times both fief and
feudal owner disappeared altogether. Nor in the alterations thus
occurring from time to time in the feudal map was any consideration paid
to natural boundaries. A daimiō’s fief, or, in other words, the
territories of a clan, might consist of the whole or only part of a
province, of portions of two or three provinces, or even of several
whole provinces, as in the case of the founder of the Tokugawa line of
Shōguns, and, at one time, of Mōri, “the lord of ten provinces.” In
earlier days the word “clan” (_Han_) was not much used, the personality
of the daimiō of the fief being the chief consideration. As conditions
became more settled, however, under the peaceful sway of the Tokugawa
Shōguns, the boundaries of fiefs became more fixed and permanent. As a
result, too, of these unwarlike conditions, and of the spread to feudal
circles of the corrupt and effeminate atmosphere of the Imperial Court,
the personality of a daimiō counted for less, while the term “clan”
gradually came to be more commonly employed to express the idea of a
distinct feudal community, united solely by territorial associations.
These acted as provincial ties do everywhere, but where feudal and
provincial boundaries were the same, the tie uniting the population of a
fief was naturally stronger than elsewhere. Some idea of what the clan
really was in Japan is necessary in order to understand how it was that
clan spirit should have survived when feudalism died, and how it is that
Japan to-day, more than half a century after its abolition, should be
ruled by what the Japanese themselves speak of as a clan government
(_Hambatsu Séifu_).
We now come to a new chapter in the history of Japan—the reopening of
the country to foreign intercourse. At the close of the drama which
ended in the expulsion, or death, of all missionaries and their converts
the Dutch and Chinese were, as we have seen, the only foreigners allowed
to trade with Japan, the reason being that neither, so far as the
Japanese could judge, had any connection with Christianity, or
missionaries. This was about the middle of the seventeenth century.
Things remained in this state until the beginning of the nineteenth, by
which time the commerce carried on by the traders of the two favoured
nationalities had dwindled to very small proportions. During the last
fifty years of this trade changes full of meaning for Japan, for the
continent of Asia and for the world at large were taking place. Russia
was extending her sphere of activity in Siberia, and threatening to
become an intrusive neighbour in Saghalin and the Kuriles. American
whalers had discovered a profitable field of enterprise in the Sea of
Okhotsk, while, further south, landing parties from these vessels were
making use of the Bonin islands to obtain water and fresh provisions.
The development of America’s seaboard on the Pacific had led to the
opening of a new trade route with the mainland of Asia, for which the
Japanese islands offered convenient ports of call. And, finally, the
governments of Great Britain and France were busily engaged in
demolishing the barriers of conservative prejudice behind which China
had for so long entrenched herself. These changes, due partly to the
introduction of steam navigation, caused a sudden and rapidly growing
increase in the visits of foreign vessels to Japan. The trend of affairs
was perceived by the Dutch, who warned the Japanese authorities that the
moment was approaching when the policy of isolation could no longer be
pursued without danger to the country. It needed little to arouse
Japanese apprehensions. A system of coast defence was at once organized.
The Bay of Yedo, and its vicinity, the inland sea, and the harbours in
Kiūshiū, including the immediate neighbourhood of Nagasaki, were places
to which special attention was given. It is clear from the experience of
foreign ships which accident or enterprise carried into Japanese waters,
from the detailed instructions issued periodically from Yedo, and from
the reports of movements of foreign vessels received by the authorities,
that there was no lack of vigilance in the working of the system. Yet it
was singularly ineffective; a result, under the circumstances, not
surprising, since the policy of the Yedo Government varied according to
the degree of apprehension existing at the moment in official circles,
and there was a general desire to evade responsibility.
Three reasons inspired these visits of foreign vessels: the need of
provisions, looking for shipwrecked crews, or repatriating shipwrecked
Japanese, and a desire to engage in trade, or to establish friendly
relations which would lead to that result. In no case was the reception
accorded encouraging, though a clear discrimination was exercised
between merchant vessels and warships. To the former scant mercy was
shown; but warships were treated with more respect. They were towed into
and out of harbour free of charge, and were supplied with provisions for
which no money was accepted.
America was the country most interested at that time in the opening of
Japan to foreign intercourse on account of the operations of her whalers
in the Pacific and her trade route to China. The United States
Government, therefore, decided to take the initiative in endeavouring to
put an end to the Japanese policy of isolation. Accordingly, in the year
1845, Commodore Biddle arrived in Yedo with two men-of-war for the
purpose of establishing trade relations between the two countries. He
failed, however, to induce the Japanese Government to enter into any
negotiations on the subject. Seven years later the matter was again
taken up by the Government at Washington, Commodore Perry receiving
orders to proceed to Japan on a mission to arrange for the more humane
treatment of American sailors shipwrecked on the coasts of Japan; to
obtain the opening of one or more harbours as ports of call for American
vessels and the establishment of a coal depôt; and to secure permission
for trade at such ports as might be opened. No secrecy surrounded the
intentions of the United States. They were known in Europe as well as in
America, as Macfarlane, writing in 1852, mentions, and the Dutch
promptly told the Japanese.
On July 8th, 1853, Perry arrived in the harbour of Uraga, a small cove
in the Bay of Yedo, some thirty miles from the present capital. His
instructions were to obtain the facilities desired by persuasion, if
possible, but, if necessary, by force. He succeeded after some
difficulty in prevailing upon the Japanese authorities to receive the
President’s letter at a formal interview on shore. At the same time he
presented a letter from himself demanding more humane treatment for
shipwrecked sailors, and pointed out the folly of persistence in the
policy of seclusion. He would return next spring, he added, with more
ships to receive the answer to the President’s letter.
With Perry’s arrival the Shōgun figures under a new title, that of
Tycoon (_Taikun_), or Great Lord, a term first used in correspondence
with Korea in order to conceal the fact that the Shōgun was not the
sovereign of Japan. This was the word chosen to designate the Shōgun in
the earlier treaties concluded with foreign Powers, and is the name by
which he was commonly known to foreigners until the Restoration put an
end to the government he represented.
On Perry’s return in the following year, 1854, he insisted on anchoring
further up the Bay of Yedo, off what was then the post town and
afterwards the open port of Kanagawa. It was at a village close to this
spot, now known as the town of Yokohama, that on the 31st March he
signed the Treaty opening the ports of Shimoda (in Cape Idzu) and
Hakodaté (in Yezo) to American vessels—the former at once, the latter at
the end of a year. This Treaty, which was ratified in the following
year, was the first step in the reopening of Japan to foreign
intercourse.
Perry’s Treaty was succeeded by similar arrangements with other
Powers—with the British in October of the same year (1854), and in the
year following with the Russians and Dutch.
The Dutch benefited greatly by the new direction given to foreign
relations. By the provisional arrangement made in 1855 most of the
humiliating restrictions accompanying the privilege of trade were
removed; and two years later they were allowed “to practise their own or
the Christian religion,” a provision which seems to suggest that the
Japanese idea as to their not being Christians was inspired by the
Dutch. The orders, moreover, with regard to trampling on Christian
emblems were also at the same time rescinded. There was still some
difference between their position and that of other foreigners. This,
however, only lasted a year or two. With the operation of the later more
elaborate treaties the nation which had prided itself on its exclusive
trading privileges with Japan was glad to come in on the same footing as
other Western Powers.
None of the arrangements above described were regular commercial
treaties. The first, concluded with America, was simply an agreement for
the granting of certain limited facilities for navigation and trade, the
latter being a secondary consideration. The object of the British
Treaty, made by Admiral Stirling during the Crimean war, was to assist
operations against Russia in Siberian waters. The Russians, for their
part, merely wished for political reasons to gain a footing in Japan;
while the Dutch were chiefly anxious to escape from the undignified
position they occupied.
It was not until 1858 that regular commercial treaties were concluded.
Perry’s Treaty had stipulated for the appointment of an American
Consul-General to reside at Shimoda. Mr. Townsend Harris was selected
for the post. His arrival was unwelcome to the Japanese, who had not
expected the enforcement of the stipulation. They accordingly boycotted
him. He could get no trustworthy information. If he asked for anything,
it was withheld as being “contrary to the honourable country’s law”; and
his letters were not answered because “it was not customary to reply to
the letters of foreigners.” Harris, nevertheless, persevered in spite of
Japanese obstruction with his task of developing American relations with
Japan. In June, 1857, he was able to report the signature of a
convention which extended considerably the facilities conceded to Perry;
in the autumn of the same year he was received in audience by the Shōgun
as the first duly accredited representative of a Western Power; by the
following February negotiations for the new Treaty were practically
completed; and in July of that year (1858) the Treaty was signed in Yedo
Bay on board an American man-of-war.
The delay of five months was caused by the Shōgunate’s decision to refer
the Treaty before signature to Kiōto for the approval of the Throne.
This reference was not necessary. The right of the Shōgun to act
independently in such matters had been recorded in the “Hundred
Articles,” and long custom had confirmed the rule thus recorded. But in
the embarrassment and trepidation caused by Perry’s unexpected visit,
and still less expected demands, the Shōgunate had departed from this
rule, and revived the obsolete formality of Imperial sanction, extending
at the same time its application. The Court refused its consent to the
proposed Treaty, but in spite of this refusal the Japanese negotiators
signed it; the Shōgun’s ministers being influenced by the news of the
termination of the war in China, and the impending arrival of British
and French ambassadors, as well as by the representations of the
American negotiator.
Treaties with Great Britain, with Holland, with Russia, and with France
followed in rapid succession, the first three being signed in August,
the last-named in October. All four reproduced more or less closely the
substance of the American convention. The choice of open ports in
Perry’s Treaty—due to solicitude for American whalers, and
considerations connected with America’s new trade route to China—had in
the interests of general commerce been unfortunate. This defect was
remedied in the new treaties by provisions for the opening of additional
ports. A tariff and a system of tonnage dues were also established. In
other respects the new treaties merely confirmed, or amplified, the
provisions of earlier arrangements. They were useful, however, as the
forerunners of a whole series of practically uniform agreements, which
simplified Japan’s position, while enlarging the scope of foreign
relations. One of the last to be concluded was the Austro-Hungarian
Treaty of 1869, the English version of which was made the “original,” or
authoritative, text. By virtue of the most-favoured-nation clause, which
figured in all these conventions, it was this instrument which governed
the relations of Japan with Treaty Powers, until the new revised
treaties came into force in 1899. When the Japanese people became aware
that the character of these treaties was different from those made by
Western governments with each other, an early opportunity was taken to
protest against the provisions conceding ex-territoriality and fixing a
low customs tariff, and against the obstacle to revision presented by
the absence in the agreements of any fixed period of duration. The
irritation thus caused led later on to an agitation for treaty revision,
which did much to embitter Japanese feeling towards foreigners. The
complaint was not unnatural, but in making it there was a tendency to
overlook the fact that the position of foreigners in Japan under these
treaties was also very different from their position under other
treaties elsewhere. The residential and commercial rights of the
foreigner in Japan applied only to the “open ports,” while his right of
travel, except by special permission, not readily granted, did not
extend beyond a narrow area at the same ports known as “treaty limits.”
The rest of the country remained closed. This limitation of facilities
for commercial intercourse was, moreover, accentuated by the fact that
the choice of “open” or “treaty ports” was not, as has been pointed out,
the best that could have been made. Compelled against their will to
consent to foreign intercourse, it was only to be expected that the
Japanese should seek to render the concession worthless by selecting
harbours neither suitable nor safe for shipping, and places far from
markets, and that a similar spirit should dictate the choice of sites
for foreign settlements. That the early negotiators who represented
Japan were handicapped by ignorance of the principles regulating
international relations is undeniable. But the injustice, as they
considered it, of the conditions against which protest was made was
really a blessing in disguise; for, on the admission of the Japanese
themselves, it served as a powerful stimulus to progress on the lines of
Western civilization.
In the course of five years from the date of Perry’s Treaty no less than
thirteen elaborate agreements, besides other arrangements of a less
formal character, had been concluded by Japan. So rapid an extension of
foreign intercourse might seem to point to a subsidence of anti-foreign
feeling, and a decrease of opposition to the establishment of friendly
relations with foreign countries. Such, however, was not the case. The
negotiations of these various covenants were carried on in the face of
growing anti-foreign clamour, and in the midst of political confusion
and agitation,—the precursors of a movement which was to end in the
collapse of Tokugawa government.
In order that the subsequent course of events may be understood, some
reference, however brief, to the political situation which existed at
this time is necessary. It will be seen what complications—quite apart
from the embarrassments arising out of the reopening of foreign
intercourse—were caused by the inconsequence and ambition of the Court,
the weakness of the Shōgunate, and the jealousies of rival statesmen.
Some idea may also thus be formed of the ignorance of foreign matters
which then prevailed, except in a few official quarters, and of the
clumsy timidity of a policy which consisted chiefly of shutting the eyes
to facts patent to everyone.
Ever since the establishment of Tokugawa rule there had been a party at
the Kiōto Court, consisting of Court nobles, which championed the
pretensions of the Throne, mourned over its lost glories, conducted its
intrigues, and felt a common resentment against what in its eyes was an
administration of usurpers. The fatal mistake of the Shōgunate in
referring to Kiōto Perry’s demands for the reopening of foreign
intercourse on new and strange conditions—a matter which, in accordance
with established precedent, was within its own competency—gave an
opportunity to this party to revive the long obsolete pretensions of the
Court. The opportunity was at once seized. The party had at this time
powerful adherents. Amongst them the chief figure was the ex-Prince of
Mito. Early in the previous century his grandfather, the second of his
line, had founded a school of literature and politics, which espoused
the Imperial cause, and encouraged the native religion and language in
opposition to what was borrowed from China,—a profession of principles
which sat curiously on a leading member of the Tokugawa House. Holding
the same views himself, the ex-Prince had been forced to abdicate some
years before in favour of his eldest son for having destroyed the
Buddhist temples in his fief, and made their bells into cannon, for the
alleged purpose of repelling a foreign invasion. With the ex-Prince were
ranged the Tokugawa Prince of Owari and the influential daimiōs of
Chōshiū, Échizen, Tosa and Uwajima, whilst a large measure of sympathy
with Imperial aims existed among the prominent clans of the south and
west. The anti-Shōgunate movement also derived help from the turbulent
class of clanless _samurai_, known as _rōnin_, which at this time was
rapidly increasing in numbers owing to economic distress in feudal
territories, and the growing weakness of the Shōgunate. The latter’s
supporters, on the other hand, were mostly to be found in the centre,
the north and the east, all of which were old Tokugawa strongholds. Its
chief strength, however, lay in its being _beatus possidens_,—having,
that is to say, the command of State resources, and being in a position
to speak for the Throne; and in the fact that Tokugawa government, by
its long duration and the completeness of its bureaucratic organization,
had taken so firm a hold of the country, that whatever sympathy might
possibly be evoked on behalf of revived Imperial pretensions might not
unreasonably be expected to fall short of material support.
One other advantage the Shōgunate possessed was the presence in the
Government of a minister of distinguished ancestry, and of great ability
and courage, combined with, what was rare in those days, independence of
character. This was the famous Ïi Kamon no Kami, generally known as the
Tairō, or Regent, whose castle-town, Hikoné, near Kiōto, overlooked Lake
Biwa. The early associations of his family made him a staunch upholder
of Tokugawa rule. He quickly became the leading spirit of the Ministry,
and the liberal views he apparently held on the subject of treaty-making
and foreign intercourse brought him at once into collision with the
boldest and most uncompromising member of the Court party—the ex-Prince
of Mito. The disagreement between them first showed itself in the advice
called for by the Throne from the Council of State and the leading
feudal nobles on the question of the signature of the American Treaty of
1858. In the controversy which arose on this point they figured as the
chief protagonists. The policy of the Court in 1853 had been
non-committal. In 1855 it had formally approved of the treaties, the
Shōgun’s resident at Kiōto reporting that “the Imperial mind was now at
ease.” Nevertheless, in spite of this approval, and notwithstanding the
signature of fresh treaties, the crusade of the Court party against
foreign intercourse went on unabated. On the present occasion the
ex-Prince of Mito argued strongly against the Treaty, while the Council
of State, adopting the views of Ïi Kamon no Kami, who was not yet
Regent, recommended the signature of the Treaty as being the proper
course to follow. But the question which provoked the keenest rivalry
and the bitterest antagonism between the two statesmen concerned the
succession to the Shōgunate.
The Shōgun Iyésada, appointed in 1853, was childless, and, in accordance
with custom in such cases, it was incumbent on him to choose and adopt a
successor. The ex-Prince of Mito wished the choice to fall on one of his
younger sons, Kéiki, then fifteen years of age, who having been adopted
into the Hitotsubashi family, was eligible for the appointment. But the
new Shōgun was only twenty-nine, and in no hurry to choose a successor
from another family. His relations, moreover, with the ex-Prince of Mito
were not cordial; and there were other objections. If he were
constrained to adopt a successor, his own choice would, it was known,
fall on a nearer kinsman, the young Prince of Kishiū, a boy of ten. The
heir preferred by the Shōgun was also the choice of Ïi. The parties
supporting the rival candidates were not unequally matched. Though the
weight of clan influence was on the side of Kéiki, fated a few years
later to be the last of the Tokugawa Shōguns, a section of the Court
nobles joined with the Council of State in favouring the candidature of
the young Kishiū prince, behind whom stood also the Shōgun.
The two questions in dispute were thus quite distinct, the one being a
matter of foreign, the other of domestic policy. But the two
protagonists in each being the same, it looked as if the side that was
successful in one issue would gain the day in both. And this in fact is
what happened. In June, 1858, in the interval between the second and
third missions to Kiōto in connection with the signature of the American
Treaty, Ïi became Regent—an appointment tenable in times of emergency as
well as during a Shōgun’s minority. The end of the conflict, which had
lasted nearly five years, was then in sight. In July, as already stated,
the American Treaty was signed. Before another week had elapsed the
young Kishiū prince was proclaimed heir to the Shōgunate. Ten days later
the Shōgun Iyésada died.
CHAPTER V
Anti-Foreign Feeling—Chōshiū Rebellion—Mikado’s Ratification of
Treaties—Prince Kéiki—Restoration Movement—Civil War—Fall of Shōgunate.
The signature of the Treaty was loudly condemned by the Court party, the
ex-Prince of Mito being conspicuous amongst those who protested. He
addressed a violently worded remonstrance to the Council of State,
impugning the action of the Government, which was accused of disrespect
to the Throne, and disobedience to the Imperial commands. The Regent
retorted by striking at once at his enemies with all the force of his
newly acquired position, and the prestige of his success in the matter
of the succession. The ex-Prince of Mito and the Prince of Owari were
confined to their _yashikis_ (a term applied to the feudal residences
occupied by daimiōs during their period of service in Yedo); while the
latter, together with the daimiōs of Échizen, Tosa and Uwajima, was
forced to abdicate. And when the Court, growing uneasy at this sudden
reassertion of authority on the part of the Shōgunate, summoned the
Regent, or one of the Gosanké, to Kiōto to report on the situation, a
reply was sent to the effect that the Regent was detained by State
affairs, and that the ex-Prince of Mito and the Prince of Owari were
confined to their clan _yashikis_. A mission, however—the third in
succession—proceeded to Kiōto from Yedo. This submitted a report on the
subject of the Treaty, which explained the reasons for its signature in
advance of Imperial sanction as being the arrival of more Russian and
American ships; the defeat of China by the English and French; the news
that these two countries were sending to Japan special envoys instructed
to carry matters with a high hand; and the advice to sign at once given
by the American minister. The Court’s eventual pronouncement in favour
of the Treaty displayed in a striking manner the perverseness and
inconsequence which characterized Japanese official procedure at that
time. The decree conveying the Imperial approval expressed the
satisfaction with which the Throne had received the assurance that the
Shōgun, the Regent and the Council of State, were all in favour of
keeping foreigners at a distance; and urged on the attention of the
Shōgun “the Throne’s deep concern in regard to the sea in the
neighbourhood of the Imperial shrines and Kiōto, as well as the safety
of the Imperial insignia,” which, put into plainer language, meant that
no port should be opened near Isé, or the capital. Two suggestions have
been made on good authority regarding this decree: (1) that the Shōgun’s
agents in Kiōto were directed to accept anything which established the
fact of an understanding with the Court having been effected; and (2)
that the agents in question succeeded in persuading the Court that,
though the signature of this particular Treaty was unavoidable, the Yedo
Government was not really in favour of foreign intercourse. Both
suggestions are probably correct. In any case the Court’s action in
ignoring the Throne’s previous approval of earlier treaties was
calculated to stiffen opposition to the Shōgun’s diplomacy, and was thus
doubtless responsible for some of the subsequent difficulties attending
foreign intercourse, notably in connection with the opening of the port
of Hiogo, which, with the consent of the Treaty Powers, was postponed
until January, 1868.
As showing how meaningless the Imperial approval, in reality, was it may
be well to note that the English text of the Treaty in question provided
for the exchange of ratifications at Washington on or before the 4th
July, 1859, failing which, however, the Treaty was, nevertheless, to
come into force on the date in question. The Treaty went into operation
on the date fixed, but the exchange of ratifications did not take place
until 1860. The ratification on the part of Japan is described as the
verification of “the name and seal of His Majesty the Tycoon.”
Hostility to foreigners at this time, however, was a feeling common to
most Japanese, even Shōgunate officials being no exception to the rule.
Writers on Japan mention as one cause which served to increase this
feeling the drain of gold from Japan, which began as early as the
operations of the first Portuguese traders. Another—adduced by the
Japanese Government itself—was the great rise in prices which followed
upon the opening of Treaty ports. Sir Rutherford Alcock, in the _Capital
of the Tycoon_, adds a third—the memory of the troubles connected with
the Christian persecution in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
and of the serious alarm then entertained by the Japanese authorities at
the undisguised pretensions of the Pope. The understanding regarding the
Treaty question arrived at by the Regent with the Court did little to
check the growth of anti-foreign feeling, for the Court continued its
intrigues as before, and the Regent’s death, in the spring of 1860 at
the hands of assassins instigated by the ex-Prince of Mito, provided a
further opportunity. The effects of the fierce anti-foreign crusade upon
which it then embarked were seen in the murder of the Secretary of the
American Legation, in the successive attacks made on the British
Legation, and in other violent acts by which foreigners were not the
only sufferers. Yielding to the pressure of public opinion, the
Government itself became almost openly hostile. Placed in this difficult
position, the representatives of the Treaty Powers found both dignity
and safety compromised. What, they might well ask, was to be gained by
protests to the Japanese authorities in regard to acts with which the
latter’s sympathy was barely concealed, of which they not infrequently
gave warning themselves, but against which they were unable, or
unwilling, to afford protection? Under these circumstances it is not
surprising that the representatives of Great Britain, France, Germany
and Holland should in 1862 have retired temporarily from the capital to
Yokohama—an example not followed by the American representative; nor
that the British Legation on its return, at the Japanese Government’s
request, four weeks later, should have been immediately attacked in
spite of a formal guarantee of protection. In respect of this attack, in
the course of which two sentries were murdered, an indemnity was
afterwards paid. Matters were further aggravated by the murder in
September of the same year (1862) of Mr. Richardson, a British subject,
on the high road near Yokohama by the bodyguard of a Satsuma noble,
Shimadzu Saburō, who was on his way back to Kiōto from the Shōgun’s
Court in Yedo. A formal apology for this outrage was demanded by the
British, together with the payment of an indemnity.
The growing power of the Court and the anti-foreign party, for the two
were one, showed itself also in its behaviour to the Shōgunate after the
Regent’s death.
The adherents of the ex-Prince of Mito—who survived his adversary by
only a few months—held up their heads again, while the late Regent’s
friends were, in their turn, dismissed from office, fined, imprisoned or
banished. Nor did the Shōgun’s marriage to the Mikado’s sister in the
spring of 1862 materially improve the relations between Kiōto and Yedo,
or moderate the high-handed attitude of the Court. In the summer of the
same year the Shōgun was peremptorily summoned to Kiōto, which had not
seen a Shōgun for two hundred and fifty years, to confer with the Court
regarding the expulsion of foreigners; Prince Kéiki, the unsuccessful
candidate for the office of Shōgun in 1858, was made Regent, and
appointed guardian to his rival on that occasion, the young Shōgun
Iyémochi, in the place of a nearer and older relative; while the
ex-Prince of Échizen, one of the late Regent’s enemies, was made
President of the Council of State. That nothing should be wanting to
indicate its displeasure at the position taken up by the Shōgunate in
regard to foreign affairs, the Court went so far as to order the
Shōgun’s consort, who in accordance with custom had, on her marriage,
assumed the title usual in those circumstances, to revert to her
previous designation of princess. Other signs of the times, showing not
only the anti-foreign spirit of the Court, but its determination to
strike at the root of Tokugawa authority, could be noted in such
incidents as the relaxation of the conditions of the residence of feudal
nobles in Yedo, and the release of the hostages formerly exacted for
their good conduct whilst in their fiefs; the solemn fixing at a Council
of princes, attended by the Shōgun and his guardians, of a date for the
cessation of all foreign intercourse; the revival of the State
processions of the Mikado to shrines, which had been discontinued at the
beginning of the Tokugawa rule; and the residence for long periods at
Kiōto of feudal nobles, in defiance of the Tokugawa regulation which
forbade them even to visit the Capital without permission—a step which
showed that they were not afraid of its being known that they sided
openly with the Court against the Shōgunate. The same spirit accounted
for the attempt to associate the Shōgun and his Regent-guardian with the
taking of a religious oath to expel foreigners, and, finally, for the
fact that while so much that was incompatible with friendly relations
with Treaty Powers was taking place, a mission sent to those very powers
was engaged in persuading them to consent to the postponement for five
years of the dates fixed for the opening of certain ports and places to
foreign trade and residence. This consent was given, and was recorded,
in so far as Great Britain was concerned, in the London Protocol of June
6th, 1862.
The communication to the foreign representatives of the decision to
close the country duly took place on the 24th June, as arranged. But
nothing came of it. The foreign governments refused to take the matter
seriously, merely intimating that steps would be taken to protect
foreign interests, and five months later the Shōgunate asked for the
return of the Note.
Sir Rutherford Alcock in the course of a lengthy review of the
situation, in which he seems to have foreseen clearly that the reopening
of the country would eventually lead to civil war, came, though
unwillingly, to the conclusion that foreign governments, if they wished
to ensure the observance of the treaties, must be prepared to use force,
and make reprisals; in fact, that opposition to foreign intercourse
would not cease until the nation should, by drastic measures, have been
persuaded of the ability of foreign Powers to make their Treaty rights
respected. The effect of the reprisals made by the British Government in
the Richardson case, in the course of which the town of Kagoshima was
bombarded, and partly destroyed, besides the exaction of an indemnity,
went some way to prove the correctness of this view. Its truth was
further demonstrated when a second and graver incident occurred. This
was the firing upon foreign vessels in the Straits of Shimonoséki by
Chōshiū forts on June 24th, 1863. The date on which the outrage occurred
was that fixed at the Council of feudal nobles, attended by the Shōgun
and the Regent, his guardian, in Kiōto for the opening of negotiations
with the foreign representatives for the closing of the country. It was
also that on which, in accordance with the decision then taken, a
communication had been made to them by the Council of State. The
coincidence of dates gave a more serious aspect to the affair, though
the complicity of the Shōgunate was never whole-hearted. In this case,
also, it became necessary to take the drastic measures which to the
British Minister in question had seemed to be inevitable sooner or
later. Neither the first reprisals, however, instituted at once by the
French and American naval authorities, nor the lengthy negotiations with
the Japanese Government which followed, were of any effect in obtaining
redress. For more than a year the straits remained closed to navigation.
Eventually joint operations against the hostile forts conducted in
August, 1864, by a combined squadron of the four Powers immediately
concerned, accomplished the desired result. The forts were attacked and
destroyed, an undertaking that they should be left in a dismantled
condition was extorted, and an indemnity of $3,000,000 exacted. The
lessons thus administered lost none of their force from the fact that
the clans punished were the two most powerful, and those in which
hostility to foreigners was perhaps most openly displayed. Both this and
the Kagoshima indemnity were paid by the Yedo Government, and not by the
offending clans. Were further proof needed of the strange condition of
affairs at this time in Japan it is supplied by the fact that in both
cases the drastic measures taken resulted in the establishment of quite
amicable relations with the clans in question. This unlooked-for result
points to the existence, both in the nation at large, and in individual
clans, of a small minority which did not share the prevailing hostility
to foreigners.
Towards the end of 1863 the British and French Governments came to the
conclusion that the unsettled state of things in Japan, and the
anti-foreign feeling, which showed no signs of decreasing, made it
advisable to station troops in Yokohama for the protection of foreign
interests. Accordingly contingents of British and French troops were
landed, and established in quarters on shore, by arrangement with the
Japanese authorities. Their presence served admirably the purpose
intended; no collision or friction occurred between these garrisons and
the Japanese, and in 1875, when their presence was no longer needed,
they were withdrawn.
The Shōgun had been very reluctant to comply with the Imperial summons
to Kiōto. His ministers had endeavoured to arrange for the visit to be
limited to ten days. Once there, however, he was detained on various
pretexts until June in the following year, by which time the Court had
already embarked on its anti-foreign policy, and the Shimonoséki
incident had occurred. His return to Yedo was the signal for the
outbreak of further bickering between the Court and the Shōgunate, which
revealed the same disposition on both sides to shut the eyes to facts,
and change position with startling inconsistency. Ignoring its recent
co-operation with the Imperial Court and feudal nobles in the
anti-foreign policy initiated at the Capital, the fixing of a date for
the expulsion of the foreigner, and the communication of its decision to
the foreign representatives, the Shōgunate presented a memorial to the
Throne pointing out how unfavourable was the present moment for pushing
matters to extremity in the matter of foreign intercourse. The Court,
for its part, while testifying its pleasure at the revival of the
ancient practice of visits to the Capital, rebuked the Shōgun for not
keeping the Throne more fully informed of his movements, for having gone
back to Yedo _in a steamer_, and for his unsatisfactory behaviour in
regard to foreign relations. Further indications of the general
confusion of ideas and vacillation of purpose which characterized the
proceedings of persons in authority appear in the expulsion of Chōshiū
clansmen from Kiōto as a mark of the Court’s strong disapproval of the
action of the Chōshiū clan in the Shimonoséki affair, as well as in the
startling pronouncement made by the Échizen clan—whose chief’s enforced
abdication has already been mentioned—in favour of foreign intercourse,
and of the “new Christian religion,” and condemning alike both the
policy pursued by the Court, and that of the Shōgunate.
That a definite rupture of foreign relations did not take place at this
juncture was due to the promptness of the Shōgunate to repudiate its own
acts and to the patience and good-humour of foreign governments;
possibly also to the division of opinion in the country itself, where
the centre of authority was beginning to shift, though the process was
still incomplete. In its place there occurred the first threatenings,
the beginnings, in fact, of the civil war which an attentive observer
had prophesied. Conscious of the Government’s weakness, while piqued by
the Court’s inconsistency, the Chōshiū clan brought matters to an issue
in the summer of 1864 by making a sudden raid on Kiōto with the object
of abducting the Mikado and raising the Imperial standard. The attempt
was defeated; nor did the clan fare better in its efforts to repel the
invasion of its territory by the Government forces. The resistance
offered was soon overcome. Early in the following year (1865) the
rebellion was suppressed, the severity of the terms imposed on the clan
exciting widespread dissatisfaction. When, shortly afterwards, the same
clan again rebelled, owing, it is said, to the excessive character of
the punishment imposed, it was perceived that the success of the
Tokugawa troops on the previous occasion was due, not to the Shōgunate’s
military strength, but to the co-operation of other clans—notably that
of Satsuma—in the punitive measures directed against the rebels. On this
latter occasion the support of the other clans was withheld, with the
result that the second campaign, though conducted under the eye of the
Shōgun, who made Kiōto his headquarters for the purpose, was a complete
failure. By the end of the year 1866 a compromise, designed to save the
faces of both parties, had been effected. Hostilities then ceased. In
the course of the negotiations by which this conclusion was reached the
weakness of the Shōgunate was still further exposed. The prominent part
taken by _rōnin_, both in the raid on the Capital and in the subsequent
proceedings of the clan, as well as the incapacity of the feudal prince
and his son, came also to light, together with the fact that the affairs
of the fief were controlled by clan retainers, who were divided into two
mutually hostile factions, each of which in turn gained the ascendancy.
The ignominy of defeat at the hands of a rebellious clan, added to a
bankrupt exchequer, not to speak of the acceptance of a compromise which
in itself was a confession of impotence, hastened the crumbling away of
what was left of Tokugawa prestige. Fresh energy, at the same time, was
instilled into the Court party. The situation became increasingly
troubled and confused. While the Imperialists, as they now came to be
called, clamoured more loudly than ever for the expulsion of foreigners,
the ministers of the young Shōgun—soon to be succeeded very unwillingly
by his cousin and guardian, the regent Prince Kéiki—busied themselves
with explanations to the Court on the subject of the treaties, and to
the foreign representatives on the political situation and the bearing
of the Court.
In the meantime, in the summer of 1865, while the Chōshiū imbroglio was
at its height, Sir Harry Parkes had arrived in Japan as British
Minister. Soon after his arrival his attention had been drawn to the
anomalous position of the Shōgun (or Tycoon), who was not the Sovereign
of Japan, as described in the treaties, to the difficult situation
created by the revival of Imperial pretensions, and to the encouragement
afforded to the anti-foreign party by the fact that the Mikado had not
yet given his formal sanction to the treaties of 1858, though they had
been ratified by the Shōgun’s Government. The foreign representatives,
who had already received instructions from their Governments to ask for
a modification of the tariff of import and export duties annexed to the
treaties of 1858, decided to press both questions together and, at the
same time, to communicate to the Shōgunate, on behalf of their
Governments, an offer to remit two-thirds of the Shimonoséki indemnity
in return for (1) the immediate opening of the port of Hiogo and the
city of Ōsaka, and (2) the revision of the Customs tariff on a basis of
5 per cent _ad valorem_. Accordingly, in November, 1865, a combined
squadron visited Ōsaka for that purpose.
Reference has already been made to the constant anxiety of the Court to
keep foreigners away from the neighbourhood of the Capital. The
sensation created, therefore, by the appearance of foreign ships of war
in the Bay of Ōsaka can readily be imagined. It was a repetition of what
had occurred when Perry came. The action taken by the Court was the
same. The demands of the foreign representatives were referred, as in
Perry’s case, to a council of feudal nobles. These having concurred in
the view already put forward by the Shōgun, and strengthened by his
offer to resign, should this be desired, the Court intimated its
intention to accept the advice. When, however, the necessary decree was
issued, it was found to contain a clause making the sanction dependent
on the alteration of certain points in the treaties which did not
harmonize with the Imperial views, and insisting on the abandonment of
the stipulation for the opening of Hiogo. The decree was duly
communicated to the foreign representatives. But the Shōgunate in doing
so, baffled it may be by the task of endeavouring to reconcile Imperial
instructions with the fulfilment of Treaty obligations, or using,
perhaps unconsciously, the disingenuous methods of the time, concealed
the clause which robbed the sanction of much of its force. The treaties
were sanctioned, it explained, but the question of the port of Hiogo
could not be discussed for the moment. As for the tariff, instructions
would be sent to Yedo to negotiate the amendment desired. This omission
on the part of the Shōgunate to represent things as they really were
misled foreign governments, and caused serious misunderstanding in the
sequel.
The promise regarding the tariff was duly kept. It was fulfilled in the
following year (1866) by the signature in Yedo of the Tariff Convention.
A point to be noted in this instrument is the declaration regarding the
right of individual Japanese merchants, and of daimiōs and persons in
their employ, to trade at the Treaty Ports and go abroad, and trade
there, without being subject to any hindrances, or undue fiscal
restrictions, on the part of the Japanese Government or its officials.
Its insertion was due to the determination of foreign governments to put
an end to official interference with trade—a relic of the past, when all
foreign commerce was controlled by the Shōgunate—and to their wish, in
view of the reactionary measures threatened by the Court, to place on
record their resolve to maintain the new order of things established by
the treaties. Owing to the Shōgunate’s monopoly of foreign trade, which
was what its control had virtually amounted to, the profits of commerce
had swelled the coffers of the Government to the detriment of clan
exchequers—a feudal grievance which was not the least of the causes
responsible for hostility to the Yedo Government, and, indirectly, for
anti-foreign feeling.
The course of affairs during the fifteen years which followed the
conclusion of Perry’s Treaty has been described with some minuteness.
This has been necessary owing to the complex character of the political
situation, both foreign and domestic, during this time, and also because
an acquaintance with certain details is essential to the comprehension
of subsequent events. One of the features of the struggle between the
Court and Shōgunate, to which attention has been called, was the gradual
movement of several of the leading clans to the side of the Court. The
stay of the chiefs of these clans in Kiōto, in defiance of Tokugawa
regulations, led to the gradual loosening of the ties which bound the
territorial nobility to Yedo, and to the shifting of the centre of
action to the Capital, where the final scene of the drama was to be
enacted.
At the end of the year 1866 both the Shōgun and his guardian, Prince
Kéiki, were in Kiōto. There the Emperor Kōmei died early in the ensuing
spring, his death being followed within a few days by that of the young
Shōgun. The Emperor Mutsuhito, who was only fifteen years of age,
succeeded to the Throne, and Prince Kéiki became Shōgun much against his
will. Far from inheriting the forceful character of his father, the
ex-Prince of Mito, the new Shōgun was of a retiring disposition. Though
possessed of great intelligence and no small literary ability, he had a
distaste for public affairs. Well aware of the difficulties of the time,
and of the trend of tendencies unfavourable to the continuance of dual
government, he was reluctant to undertake the responsibilities of the
high office to which he was appointed. Not improbably, too, he may have
inherited some portion at least of his father’s political doctrines.
When, therefore, in October of that year (1867) the ex-daimiō of Tosa
(whose abdication had been enforced eight years before by the Regent Ïi)
presented a memorial to the Government, advising “the restoration of the
ancient form of direct Imperial government,” the Shōgun took the advice
tendered, and resigned. His decision was communicated in writing by the
Council of State to the foreign representatives. In this document, which
explains briefly the origin of feudal duarchy and of Tokugawa rule, the
Shōgun dwells on the inconvenience attending the conduct of foreign
relations under a system of dual government involving the existence of
what were virtually two Courts, and announces his decision to restore
the direct rule of the Mikado; adding, however, the assurance that the
change will not disturb the harmonious relations of Japan with foreign
countries. The statement also, it should be noted, contains an explicit
declaration of the liberal views of the retiring ruler, who does not
hesitate to express his conviction that the moment has come to make a
new departure in national policy, and introduce constitutional changes
of a progressive character.
Very possibly the retirement of the Shōgun might have been arranged in a
peaceable manner, for his views were no secret to his supporters, though
few shared them. Unfortunately, the Court, acting under the influence of
leading clans hostile to the Yedo Government, and bent on a rupture,
suddenly issued a decree abolishing the office of Shōgun, and making a
change in the guardianship of the palace, which was transferred from
Tokugawa hands to those of the opposition. This decree was followed by
others proclaiming the restoration of direct Imperial rule; establishing
a provisional government of Court nobles, daimiōs and the latter’s
retainers; remitting the punishment imposed on the Chōshiū clan; and
revoking the order expelling it from the Capital. The action of the
Court made compromise impossible. The Shōgun withdrew to Ōsaka, whence,
after a half-hearted effort to reassert his authority by force of arms,
he returned to Yedo. The civil war that ensued was of short duration.
The Tokugawa forces were no match for the Imperial troops, who were
superior both in numbers and discipline. Although a small remnant of the
ex-Shōgun’s adherents held out for some months in certain northern
districts of the main island, and still longer in the island of Yezo, by
the spring of 1869 peace was everywhere restored.
It has been said by a leading authority on Japan, as one reason for the
fall of the Shōgunate, that dual government was an anachronism. This in
itself presented no insuperable obstacle to its continuance; for the
figure-head system of government, which flourished in an atmosphere of
make-believe, was one which had grown up with the nation and was
regarded as the normal condition of things. To its inconvenience,
however, in the conduct of foreign relations the use of the title of
_Taikun_ (Tycoon) in the eighteenth century, and a resort to the same
device in the nineteenth, bear witness. And it is reasonable to suppose
that a system of administration so cumbrous would have failed to satisfy
for long the practical exigencies of modern international intercourse.
In no case, however, could the Tokugawa Government have lasted much
longer. It carried within itself the seeds of its dissolution. It was
almost moribund when Perry came. The reopening of the country simply
hastened the end. It fell, as other governments have done, because it
had ceased to govern.
Before its rule ceased the Tokugawa House had abandoned its dynasty. The
three main branches—Mito, Owari and Kishiū—each in turn deserted the
Tokugawa cause; their example being followed by leading feudal families,
such as the Échizen clan, which were connected with the ruling House.
When the long line of Tokugawa rulers came to an end, it had been in
power for more than two and a half centuries. Of the fifteen Shōguns of
the line, only the founder and his grandson, the third Shōgun, showed
any real capacity. The former was brilliant, both as soldier and
statesman; the latter had administrative talent. None of the others was
in any way distinguished. Nor was this surprising. The enervating Court
life of Kiōto had been copied in Yedo. Brought up in Eastern fashion
from childhood in the corrupt atmosphere of the women’s apartments,
Mikado and Shōgun alike grew up without volition of their own or
knowledge of the outside world, ready for the rôle of puppets assigned
to them. The last of the Shōguns was no exception to the rule. Had it
been otherwise, there might have been another and quite different story
to tell.
On the short but decisive struggle which ended in the Restoration
nothing in the nature of foreign official influence was brought to bear.
The foreign Powers concerned preserved an attitude of strict neutrality,
which was reflected in the action of their representatives. The task of
maintaining neutrality was rendered easier by the fact that the
interests of all the Powers, with one exception, were commercial rather
than political. The two leading Powers in the Far East at that time were
Great Britain and France, the former’s commercial interests far
outweighing those of her neighbour on the Asiatic continent. Germany had
not yet attained the position of an empire which she was to reach as the
result of the war of 1870, the responsibilities connected with her
slowly growing trade being undertaken by the North German Confederation,
which was then being formed under the hegemony of Prussia. America,
inclined from the first to regard Japan as her protégé, had not yet
fully recovered from the effects of the Civil War; and though she had
opened up a new avenue of trade with the Far East, the development of
her Pacific seaboard was in its infancy. She prided herself on having no
foreign policy to hamper her independence, nor had she any organized
diplomatic and consular service. The interests of Russia, the exception
referred to, were merely political, and of small importance; for neither
the Amur Railway nor the Chinese Eastern Railway had been even
projected, and the development of Eastern Siberia had hardly begun. The
interests of other Treaty Powers were negligible. While, however, under
these circumstances the conflict between the Tokugawa Government and the
Imperialists lay beyond the sphere of foreign official influence, there
were certain unavoidable tendencies which manifested themselves before
the Civil War broke out. The presence of French military instructors
engaged by the Shōgun’s Government was regarded as possibly attracting a
certain extent of French sympathy with the Tokugawa cause—an idea which
was strengthened by the attitude of the French representative and the
conduct of one or two of these officers, who accompanied the Tokugawa
naval expedition to Yezo, where a last stand was made. There was,
moreover, quite apart from their official action, a natural bias on the
part of most of the foreign representatives in favour of the Shōgunate
as being the _de facto_ government, a position it had occupied for two
and a half centuries. On the other hand, the formal sanction given in
1865 by the Mikado at the demand of the foreign representatives to the
treaties of 1858 had undoubtedly encouraged the Imperialist party in
proportion as it had impaired the prestige of the Tokugawa Government.
This demand had arisen out of the gradual realization of the fact that
the Shōgun was not, as represented in the treaties in question, the real
sovereign of Japan. But there was a further reason. From the moment that
the Tokugawa Government had at the time of Commodore Perry’s arrival
referred the question of reopening the country to the Throne, instead of
using the full power of dealing with foreign affairs vested in the
Shōgun, there had grown up two centres of authority, one in Kiōto, which
was steadily increasing in influence, the other in Yedo. As was pointed
out in the letters addressed by the foreign representatives in the
autumn of 1864 to the Tycoon (the title given to the Shōgun in the
official correspondence of the time), the existence of these two
different centres of authority had been at the bottom of most of the
complications which had arisen in respect of foreign relations. The
representatives were, therefore, it was said, obliged to insist upon the
Mikado’s recognition of the treaties, “in order that future difficulties
might be avoided, and that relations with foreigners might be placed
upon a more satisfactory and durable basis.” In other words, the
recognition of the treaties by the Mikado was sought in order to put a
stop to the anti-foreign agitation which was paralyzing the Shōgunate’s
conduct of affairs and creating a highly dangerous situation. The
reluctance of the Shōgunate to comply with this demand did not tend to
improve its position with the foreign representatives, while this
position was further weakened by its persistence in adhering to the
false status given to the Shōgun. The continued use of the term “His
Majesty” in official correspondence between the Shōgun’s Ministers and
the diplomatic body long after doubts had arisen as to its correctness
was productive of mistrust; and their confidence in the Government’s
sincerity was shaken by its strenuous efforts for various reasons to
isolate foreigners as much as possible, and by proof of its complicity
in the matter of the Court’s order for the expulsion of foreigners, as
well as in the Shimonoséki affair.
Under these circumstances—and as a result, also, of the friendly
communications established with the two leading clans after the carrying
out of reprisals—it is not surprising that some time before an appeal to
arms took place a tendency to sympathize with the cause of the Sovereign
_de jure_ should have shown itself in certain diplomatic quarters. The
busy intrigues carried on by both contending parties, which were by no
means confined to domestic circles, may have led, and probably did lead,
those whose acquaintance with Japanese history, though imperfect, far
exceeded that of others, to attach undue weight to the doctrine of
active and unimpaired Imperial supremacy sedulously inculcated by the
Court party, and thus to arrive at the not illogical conclusion that the
Tokugawa Shōguns were the wrongful usurpers they were described as being
by Imperialist historians. That this pronounced sympathy, before
hostilities began, in favour of what proved to be the winning side was a
material factor in the issue of the struggle there is some reason to
believe.
Another point claims passing attention. When the Shōgunate ceased to
rule, the wide territory known as the Shōgun’s domains came under the
control of the new Government. The classification of lands throughout
the country for administrative purposes thus fell temporarily into four
divisions—the small area known under the Shōgunate as the Imperial
domains, the feudal revenue of which had been quite inadequate for the
maintenance of the Court; the former Shōgun’s domains, the final
disposition of which was in abeyance; the territories of the clans, as
modified by the measures taken in respect of those which, having
espoused the Tokugawa cause, had held out to the last against the
Imperialist forces; and the large cities of Yedo, Kiōto and Ōsaka, which
formed a group by themselves.
CHAPTER VI
Japanese Chronology—Satsuma and Chōshiū Clans—The “Charter Oath.”
In the movement which swept away the Tokugawa Shōguns two cries were
raised by the Imperialists: “Honour the Sovereign” and “Expel the
foreigner.” They constituted the programme of the party. No sooner had
the revolution been crowned with success than the second part of the
programme was abandoned. The bulk of the military class had been led to
believe that the downfall of the Shōgunate would carry with it the
withdrawal of foreigners and the closure of the country. But the wiser
heads among the revolutionary leaders recognized that this plan was
unrealizable. They had at one time, regardless of consequences,
encouraged the cry in order to stir up popular feeling against the
Shōgunate. But with the disappearance of the Yedo Government the
situation had changed. Moreover, in the course of the fifteen years
which had elapsed since Perry’s Treaty the first bitterness of
anti-foreign feeling had begun to wear off. Earlier ignorance of the
outside world had given way to better knowledge. Closer association with
foreigners had revealed the prospect of certain benefits to be derived
from foreign trade, while the fighting at Kagoshima and Shimonoséki had
been an object-lesson to many, whose reading of history had given them
inflated ideas of the strength of their country. There were, also, among
the leaders men who were aware not only of the military weakness of
Japan, as compared with foreign nations with whom treaties had been
concluded, but of the importance of introducing changes on the lines of
Western civilization in many branches of administration. So the
foreigner remained, and the foreign policy of the Shōgunate was
continued. The other cry of “Honour the Sovereign” permitted much
latitude of interpretation. The talk about establishing direct Imperial
rule, in which Imperialists so freely indulged, was scarcely intended to
be taken literally, any more than the vague phrases in the manifestos of
the time regarding the abolition of dual government, for the personal
rule of the Sovereign was in historical times unknown. It simply
expressed indirectly the main object in view—the cessation of Tokugawa
rule. This aim was achieved, and more easily than had been anticipated;
but the dual system of administration, and the figure-head method of
government, were too deeply rooted to be removed all at once, even had
there been a desire to do so. The Shōgunate was, therefore, replaced by
a government of the clans which had taken a leading part in the
Restoration, while the figure-head method of rule worked on as before.
The Restoration ushered in what is known as the “Meiji Era,” or “Era of
Enlightened Government,” this being the name given to the new
year-period then created. The point is one of no little significance.
This year-period marked the beginning of a reign more fruitful in rapid
and far-reaching changes than any which had preceded it; it synchronized
with the rise of Japan from the position of an obscure Asiatic, country
to that of a Great Power; and it was chosen with undeniable fitness as
the posthumous name of the monarch with whose death it ended. In
dwelling on it, it will be necessary to go somewhat fully into the
rather complicated question of Japanese chronology, which calls for
explanation.
There were formerly four ways in Japan of reckoning time. These were:
(1) By the reigns of Mikados; (2) by year-periods (_Nengō_), which
constantly overlapped, one ending and the other beginning in the same
year of our chronology, so that the last year of the former was the
first year of the latter, the year in question, which never began on the
first day of the first month, having, therefore, two designations; (3)
by the Chinese sexagenary cycle; and (4) by computation from the first
year of the reign of _Jimmu Tennō_, the mythical founder of Japan. The
first was used at an early date in historical compilations. It ceased to
be employed long ago, and the records based on it are unreliable. The
second was borrowed from China at the time of the “Great Reform” in the
seventh century, which gave its name to the first Japanese year-period.
This and the third, the sexagenary cycle, were used both alone and in
conjunction with each other. The fourth system (based on the imaginary
reign of the mythical founder of Japan about the year 660 B.C.) is of
comparatively recent origin, its adoption being due to the same somewhat
far-fetched patriotism which encourages belief in the divinity of
Japanese sovereigns.
The year-period, or _Nengō_, copied from China, had in that country a
special _raison d’être_, for it changed with the accession of a new
Emperor, its duration being consequently that of the reign with which it
began. In Japan, owing probably to the seclusion of the Sovereign and
the absence of personal rule, the year-period had no direct connection
with the reign of a Mikado or the rule of a Shōgun, the correspondence,
when it occurred, being, with few exceptions, merely fortuitous. As a
rule, some unusual or startling event was made the reason for a change,
but in Japan, as in China, great care was bestowed on the choice of
propitious names for new year-periods. Since the Restoration, however,
it has been decided to follow the old Chinese practice, and create a
fresh year-period on the accession of a new sovereign. This decision was
put into force for the first time on the death of the late Emperor in
1912. The _Meiji_ year-period then came to an end, and a new
year-period, _Taishō_, or “Great Righteousness,” began. Owing to the
overlapping of year-periods, to which attention has been called, the new
year-period dates from the same year as that in which the preceding
_Meiji_ period ceased.
The sexagenary cycle was formed by combining the twelve Chinese signs of
the Zodiac, taken in their fixed order, namely, “Rat,” “Bull,” “Tiger,”
“Hare,” etc., with what are known as the “ten celestial stems.” These
ten stems, again, were formed by arranging the five primitive
elements—earth, water, fire, metal and wood—into two sections, or
classes, called respectively “elder” and “younger brother.” This
arrangement fitted in exactly with a cycle of sixty years, a number
divisible by ten and twelve, the numbers of its two component factors.
When the year-period and the sexagenary cycle were used in conjunction
with each other, it was customary to mention first of all the name of
the year-period, then the number of the year in question in that period,
and then, again, the position of the year in the sexagenary cycle.
Formerly, too, the month in Japan was a lunar month. Of these there were
twelve. Every third year an intercalary month was added in order to
supply the correction necessary for the exact computation of time. There
was no division of time corresponding to our week. This, however, came
gradually into use after the Restoration, the days being called after
the sun and moon and the five primitive elements. The weekly holiday is
now a Japanese institution. There are also in each year twenty-four
periods of nominally fifteen days each, regulated according to climate
and the season of the year, which are closely connected with
agricultural operations, and bear distinctive names, such as “Great
Cold,” “Lesser Cold,” “Rainy Season,” etc. Each month, too, is divided
into three periods of ten days each, called respectively _Jōjun_,
_Chiūjun_ and _Géjun_, or first, middle and last periods.
With the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar, which came into force on
January 1st, 1873, the sexagenary cycle and lunar month disappeared, and
with them, of course, the quaint Zodiacal appellations of the years. The
other distinctive features of Japanese chronology have survived. There
are now three recognized ways of computing time annually—by
year-periods, by the Christian Calendar and by the National Calendar,
dating from the year 660 B.C. The year 1921 may therefore be spoken of
either as we do, or as the tenth year of _Taishō_;, or as the year 2581
of the National Calendar.
The adoption of the Gregorian Calendar caused some grumbling, as it did
when introduced in England in the eighteenth century, where it was
received with the cry: “Give us back our eleven days.” In Japan there
was more reason for complaint, for the year 1872 was shortened by no
less than twenty-nine days, what would, under the old calendar, have
been the third day of the twelfth month of the fifth year of _Meiji_
being altered so as to become the first day of the first month of the
sixth year of Meiji (January 1st, 1873). Much inconvenience and even
hardship were occasioned by the change, since the end of the year, the
time chosen, is the time fixed for the settling of all accounts between
debtors and creditors.
The Restoration was the work of four clans—Satsuma, Chōshiū, Hizen and
Tosa—whose territories lay in each case in the south-west of the
country, though they had no common frontiers. The formation by feudal
chiefs of alliances of short duration for definite objects had been the
distinguishing characteristic of the unsettled times which preceded the
establishment of Tokugawa rule. This was put an end to by the Tokugawa
Shōguns, who by various measures, already described, kept the feudal
aristocracy in complete subjection. As soon, however, as the power of
the Shōgunate began to decline, the independent spirit of the clans
reasserted itself. This tendency was encouraged by the attitude of the
leading Tokugawa families. On Perry’s arrival the House of Mito had
supported the Court against the Shōgunate on the Treaty question; while
the House of Owari a few years later sided with Chōshiū in its second
and successful struggle against the Yedo Government, thus definitely
abandoning the Tokugawa cause. The alliances formed in this regrouping
of the clans were of the same artificial kind as those which had taken
place in earlier feudal days. Apart from the common object which brought
them together, the overthrow of Tokugawa rule, there was no real
sympathy between any of the four clans which took the chief part in the
Restoration. It would have been strange if there had been, for it was no
part of the policy of any clan, whose frontiers were jealously guarded
to prevent the entry of strangers, to cultivate friendly relations with
another. In the case of two of the allied clans, Satsuma and Chōshiū,
special difficulties stood in the way of an understanding. They had long
been rivals for the confidence of the Court, while the constant changes
in the relations between Kiōto and Yedo gave opportunities for further
friction and jealousy. More recently, too, the sinking of a Satsuma
steamer by Chōshiū forts, the Chōshiū raid on the Imperial palace and
the subsequent invasion of Chōshiū territory by the Shōgunate, on both
of which occasions Chōshiū clansmen found themselves fighting against
those of Satsuma, had created a feeling of active hostility. The author
of “_Ishin Shi_,” or “History of the Restoration,” explains how these
difficulties were eventually removed by the exertions of men in the
Satsuma clan, whom the critical position of affairs brought to the
front, by the mediation of men of influence in the Tosa, Hizen and other
clans, whose political sympathies lay in the same direction, and by the
co-operation of certain Court nobles, whose knowledge of domestic
affairs gained in the conduct of relations between the Court and
Shōgunate, and whose position at the Court were of great value to the
Imperialist party. Some of these Court nobles had been placed in the
custody of the daimiō of Chikuzen after the suppression of the first
Chōshiū rising, and through their efforts, and those of the other
mediators already mentioned, a friendly understanding was at length
established between Satsuma and Chōshiū clansmen. This obstacle having
been removed, a plan of campaign was discussed and settled by the four
clans. The military strength of the alliance thus formed was soon proved
in the short struggle which ended in the fall of the Shōgunate.
[Illustration:
ŌKUBO ICHIZŌ.
A leading figure in the Restoration Movement and, until his early
death, a member of the Government subsequently formed. His death
occurred before the creation of the new peerage, but his son, the
present Marquis, was ennobled in recognition of his father’s
services.
]
There remained other problems of a political kind. These were solved by
degrees in the sequence of events. Not the least of these was the form
of the Government which should replace that which had fallen. On this
point there had before the Restoration been much divergence of opinion.
According to the author of _The Awakening of Japan_ the Satsuma
“Federalists,” as he calls them, wished to reorganize the feudal system
much on the lines existing in the half century that preceded the
Tokugawa domination. The Chōshiū leaders, we are told, sought their
ideal further back. They advocated the restoration of the Imperial
bureaucracy of pre-feudal days. This view, supported by the Court
nobles, who perhaps hoped by increasing Imperial prestige to strengthen
their own position, was the one which ultimately prevailed. There were
two powerful arguments in favour of its adoption. One was the
inadvisability of attempting to retain the constitution of the previous
Government, even had it been possible to do so. Another lay in the
necessity of taking full advantage of the current of popular feeling in
favour of the Restoration, and at the same time, while as yet the
influence of the rising men was small, to work as far as possible
through the class of Court nobles who had administered this system in
early days.
The form chosen for the new administration was that of the bureaucratic
system of pre-feudal days, modified to some extent by innovations copied
from abroad. The chief feature in this administration was its division
into eight departments. Two of these, the Department of Supreme
Administration and the Department of Shintō (which dealt only with
matters concerning the native faith, Shintō), ranked together, and
before the other six, one of which dealt with legislation, while the
remaining five corresponded in a general way to similar Departments in
Western countries. As between the two senior Departments, however,
though authority was nominally equal, the greater prestige lay with the
Department of Shintō.
It will be seen that the new Government, formed in the spring of 1868
before the final surrender of the Tokugawa forces, was at best a
patchwork attempt at administrative reconstruction. Its pre-feudal form
had little in common with the feudalism that still survived, nor was it
possible to harmonize innovations borrowed from the West with an ancient
system in which the highest place was reserved for the department which
controlled all matters connected with the primitive Shintō cult. In the
autumn of the same year, and at various times in the course of
succeeding years, many administrative changes were introduced. Into the
details of these it is unnecessary to enter at length. They will be
referred to, when essential, subsequently in the course of this
narrative. It will suffice for the present to note that a Council of
State, the constitution and functions of which were modified from time
to time so frequently as to puzzle the administrators themselves, was
substituted in place of the Department of Supreme Administration, thus
reducing the number of departments to seven; and that the Department of
the Shintō cult underwent many vicissitudes, being eventually reduced to
the comparatively humble status of a bureau in the Home Department, a
position which it occupies to-day. As might have been expected in the
case of a Government which came in on the cry of the restoration of
Imperial power, at a time when an atmosphere of semi-divinity still
surrounded the Court, the new Ministry included several Imperial princes
and Court nobles. Prince Arisugawa became President of the new
Government, while the two Court nobles, Sanjō and Iwakura, who had been
largely instrumental from the first in promoting the clan alliance which
overthrew the Shōgunate, were appointed Vice-Presidents. Two other
Imperial princes and five Court nobles were placed at the head of the
remaining seven departments, the second position in three of these being
given to the daimiōs of Échizen, Aki and Higo. Among those who held
offices in minor capacities were Ōkubo and Terashima of Satsuma, Kido of
Chōshiū, Gotō of Tosa, Itō and Inouyé, the two young Chōshiū clansmen,
who, on their return from England in 1864, had tried without success to
prevent the Shimonoséki hostilities, Ōkuma of Hizen and others whose
names are household words in Japan.
In the group of princes and other notabilities above mentioned the only
outstanding personality was Iwakura, who at once took a leading place in
the direction of affairs. The rest took no active part in the
administration. They were simply convenient figure-heads, lending
stability and prestige to the new order of things, their presence also
carrying with it the assurance that the main object of the Restoration
had been accomplished.
In spite of the Western innovations embodied in its constitution the
form assumed by the new Government gave little indication of the radical
reforms which were destined to be accomplished in the course of the new
reign. In the very year of its birth the murderous attack on the British
Minister and his suite when on the way to an audience of the Emperor in
Kiōto furnished incontestable proof of the existence still of much
anti-foreign feeling. In view, however, of the fact that the cry of
“Expel the foreigner” had continued until the eve of the downfall of the
Shōgunate, and that up to the last moment the bulk of the military class
in many districts was led to believe that the Restoration would be
accompanied by the closure of the country, it was not surprising that
the survival of anti-foreign feeling should show itself in fanatical
outbursts of this nature. On the other hand, the employment in
subordinate posts under the new Ministry of men of the military class
who were known to be convinced reformers furnished good evidence that
the policy of the new Government would, if their views prevailed, be
progressive and not reactionary. And further proof of the new and
radical departure contemplated by those active spirits in the Government
was supplied by what is spoken of as the “Charter Oath” taken by the
young Mikado on the 6th April, 1868, after the new Government had been
formed.
In this Oath he announced his intentions in unmistakable language which
undoubtedly reflected the ideas and aspirations of the reformers. The
first of the five clauses of the Oath furnished the keynote of the
whole, pointing, as it did, to the creation of parliamentary
institutions. “Deliberative Assemblies”—so it ran—“shall be established
on an extensive scale, and all measures of government shall be decided
by public opinion.” And the last clause reinforced the resolution
expressed by stating that “knowledge shall be sought for throughout the
world,” a phrase which indicated indirectly the intention to draw on the
resources of Western civilization. The other passages in the manifesto
simply expounded the time-worn and vague principles of Chinese
statecraft, which had long ago been adopted by Japanese administrators.
The general correspondence of the Imperial intentions, as set forth in
the Oath, with the views of the last of the Shōguns, as expressed in the
statement announcing his resignation which was communicated to the
foreign representatives in the autumn of the previous year, is
noteworthy. It shows that the liberal policy enunciated was no monopoly
of the party of progress in the new ministry, but that a feeling in
favour of reform was very widely entertained. There was, of course, no
idea at that time of giving the masses a voice in the government of the
country, for the feudal system was still in existence, and the bulk of
the population had no interest in public affairs. It was, nevertheless,
clear that representative institutions of some kind, however imperfect
the popular conception of these might be, were the goal towards which
men’s thoughts were turning.
CHAPTER VII
New Government—Clan Feeling in Satsuma—Administrative Changes—Reformers
and Reactionaries.
In the spring of the following year (1869), when order was finally
restored and the young Mikado had held his first audience of foreign
representatives, an attempt was made to give practical effect to the
Imperial intentions by establishing a deliberative assembly, to which
the name of _Kōgisho_, or parliament, was given. It consisted of 276
members, one for each clan. Here, again, we are struck by the wide range
of progressive opinion in the country, irrespective of party feeling and
anti-foreign prejudice, for in a manifesto issued by the ex-Shōgun two
months before his resignation he had stated his desire “to listen to the
voice of the majority and establish a deliberative assembly, or
parliament”—the very word _Kōgisho_ being used.
As might have been foreseen, this first experiment, made in an
atmosphere of feudalism, was a failure; but Sir Harry Parkes, then
British Minister, describing a debate on the subject of foreign trade
which took place, said that the result of the discussion, and its
general tone, were creditable to the discernment of this embryo
parliament.
The treatment accorded to the adherents of the Tokugawa cause when
hostilities finally ceased in the spring of 1869, was marked by a
generosity as wise as it was unlooked for. In Japan up to that time
little consideration had been shown to the defeated party in civil wars.
The defeated side, moreover, in opposing the Imperialists had earned the
unfortunate title of rebels (_Chōteki_), reserved for those who took up
arms against the Crown. In this instance moderate counsels prevailed.
The territories of the daimiō of Aidzu, the backbone of Tokugawa
resistance, and those of another northern chieftain, were confiscated;
eighteen other daimiōs were transferred to distant fiefs with smaller
revenues; while in a few cases the head of a clan was forced to abdicate
in favour of some near relative. Retribution went no further. Later on,
when the feudal system was abolished, the same liberality was displayed
in the matter of feudal pensions, being especially noticeable in the
case of two large sections of the military class, the _Hatamoto_ and the
_Gokénin_, who formed the hereditary personal following of the Tokugawa
Shōguns.
The generosity shown by the Government led to much discontent in the
military class in many clans. This was notably the case in Satsuma,
where there were other grounds for dissatisfaction. The position of the
Satsuma clan had always been somewhat different from that of other
clans. Its situation at the south-western extremity of the kingdom, far
from the seat of authority, had favoured the growth of an independent
spirit, and the clan had long been noted for warlike qualities. Though
subdued by the military ruler who preceded the Tokugawa Shōguns, and
professing fealty to the Tokugawa House, the clan had preserved an
appreciable measure of importance and prestige, if not independence,
which the Shōguns in question had been careful to respect. The previous
head of the clan had before his death in 1859 adopted as his heir his
brother’s son, then a child of five years. The affairs of the clan had
been to a large extent controlled ever since by this brother, Shimadzu
Saburō, a name familiar to foreigners in connection with the outrage
which led to the bombardment of Kagoshima; but he was in poor health,
and at the time when the new Government was formed the control of clan
matters had largely passed into the hands of the elder Saigō, a man of
commanding personality, whose daring defiance of the Tokugawa
authorities in the stormy days preceding the Restoration had made him a
popular hero, and of other influential clansmen. Both Shimadzu and the
elder Saigō were thorough conservatives, opposed to all foreign
innovations. But there was a strong progressive group in the clan led by
such men as Ōkubo and the younger Saigō, who were far from sharing the
reactionary tendencies of the older leaders. This division of feeling in
the clan was one of the causes of the dissensions in the ministry which
arose in 1870, and it had important consequences, which were seen a few
years later in the tragic episode of the Satsuma Rebellion.
The first note of discord came from Satsuma. One of the first acts of
the new Government had been to transfer the Capital from Kiōto to Yedo,
which was renamed Tōkiō, or “Eastern Capital.” The Satsuma troops which
had been stationed in Tōkiō as a guard for the Government suddenly
petitioned to be released from this service. The ground put forward was
that the finances of the clan, which had suffered from the heavy outlay
incurred during the civil war, did not permit of this expensive garrison
duty. But the real reasons undoubtedly were a feeling of disappointment
on the part of a majority of the clansmen at what was regarded as the
small share allotted to Satsuma in the new administration, and some
jealousy felt by the two leaders who presented the petition towards
their younger and more active colleagues, combined with distrust of
their enthusiasm for reform.
The garrison was allowed to go home, and the elder Saigō also returned
to his province. The moment was critical. The Government could not
afford to lose the support of the two most prominent Satsuma leaders,
nor, at this early stage in the work of reconstruction which lay before
it, to acquiesce in the defection of so powerful an ally. In the
following year (1871), therefore, a conciliatory mission, in which
Iwakura and Ōkubo were the leading figures, was sent to the offended
clan to present in the Mikado’s name a sword of honour at the tomb of
Shimadzu’s brother, the late daimiō of Satsuma. The mission was also
entrusted with a written message from the Throne to Shimadzu urging him
to come forward in support of the Mikado’s Government. By this step clan
feeling was appeased for the moment, and Saigō returned to the Capital,
and became a member of the Government.
How unstable was the condition of things at that time was illustrated by
the changes in the personnel of the Ministry which took place in
September of the same year, and the administrative revision which
followed within a few months. The effect of the first was to strengthen
the progressive element in the administration at the expense of the old
feudal aristocracy. The Cabinet, as reorganized, consisted of Sanjō as
Prime Minister and Iwakura as Minister for Foreign Affairs; four
Councillors of State, Saigō, Kido, Itagaki and Ōkuma, represented the
four clans of Satsuma, Chōshiū, Tosa and Hizen, while another Satsuma
man, Ōkubo, became Minister of Finance. The effect of the revision of
the constitution was to divide the _Dajōkwan_, or Central Executive,
established in the previous year, into three branches, the _Sei-in_, a
sort of Council of State presided over by the Prime Minister; the
_Sa-in_, a Chamber exercising deliberative functions, which before long
took the place of the _Kōgisho_; and the _U-in_, a subordinate offshoot
of the Council of State, which was shortly afterwards merged in that
body. These administrative changes had little real significance. Their
chief interest lies in the fact that they show how obsessed some
enthusiastic reformers were with the idea of deliberative institutions,
of parliamentary methods of some kind, being embodied in the framework
of the new constitution; and in the further fact that the new chief
Ministers of State, under this reorganization, the Daijō Daijin,
Sadaijin, and Udajin, borrowed their official titles from the Chambers
over which they presided. Sir Francis Adams, describing these changes in
his _History of Japan_ mentions that the deliberative Chamber was
regarded at the time as “a refuge for political visionaries, who had
thus an opportunity of ventilating their theories without doing any
harm,” and that “the members of the subordinate executive Chamber (the
_U-in_), who were supposed to meet once a week for the execution of
business, never met at all.” He added that he had never been able to
learn what the functions of this Chamber were supposed to be, or what
its members ever did. The real work of administration was carried on by
the small but active group of reformers of the four clans, who were
gradually concentrating all authority in their own hands.
The high ministerial offices thus created were filled by Sanjō, Shimadzu
and Iwakura. The last-named, the junior in rank of the three, shared
with Kido and Ōkubo the main direction of affairs. The other two were
mere figure-heads, though their positions at Court and in Satsuma,
respectively, gave strength to the Government.
[Illustration:
KIDO JUNICHIRŌ.
In recognition of the services rendered to the state before the
creation of the new peerage his son was ennobled after his father’s
death. His death occurred before the creation of the new peerage,
but his son, the present Marquis, was ennobled in recognition of his
father’s services.
]
Shimadzu’s appointment was a further step in the conciliation of
Satsuma, a development of the policy of timely concessions which had
averted a rupture with that clan. The conclusion of the alliance between
the four clans, which made the Restoration possible, had, as we have
seen, been a difficult matter. A still harder task confronted the new
Government. This was to maintain the alliance for future purposes,—to
ensure the further co-operation of the same clans in the work of
reconstruction. The first step in the new direction, the formation of a
Government to fill the place of the Shōgunate, had been taken. Even if
this Government had the defects of its purely artificial character, even
if it were nothing better than a jejune attempt to combine things so
incompatible as Eastern and Western institutions, feudal and pre-feudal
systems, it had at least the merit of being the outcome of a genuine
compromise brought about by the pressure of political need. Of the grave
difficulties attending the work of reconstruction both the conservative
and anti-foreign, as well as the progressive elements in the
Ministry—the two parties to the compromise—must have been more or less
conscious. The discontent in Satsuma was only one of many symptoms of
grave unrest which showed themselves throughout the country. A sinister
indication of the gradual decay of Tokugawa authority had been furnished
by the discontinuance in 1862 of the enforced residence of feudal nobles
at Yedo, with all its attendant results. This decay had carried with it
the weakening of feudal ties. Laxity of clan administration, its natural
consequence, had given opportunities for mischief to the dangerous class
of clanless _samurai_, or _rōnin_. Of these they were not slow to avail
themselves, as was shown by the frequency of murderous attacks on
Japanese and foreigners alike; and the fear of combined action on the
part of these ruffians which might at any moment threaten the safety of
the whole foreign community had led to the stationing of foreign troops
in Yokohama, The action, moreover, of the Imperialists in encouraging
anti-foreign feeling for their own immediate purposes had brought its
own nemesis by giving rein to the turbulent impulses in the national
character. Clan jealousies, too, which the alliance of four clans had
stifled for a time, began to reassert themselves.
With the downfall of the Tokugawa Government these disturbing influences
came into full play, while the resources of the new rulers for coping
with them were very inadequate. From the wreckage of the complicated
system of Tokugawa administration little indeed which was of material
value to the builders of the new framework of state survived. The
hand-to-mouth methods of Tokugawa finance, largely dependent on
irregular feudal contributions, had resulted in a depleted Exchequer,
more debts than assets being left for the Shōguns’ successors. Nor were
the finances of the clans in a better condition. The currency of the
country was in a state of hopeless confusion due to the great variety of
note and metallic issues in circulation throughout the country, the
Shōgunate and most of the clans having their own paper money, which were
at a premium, or discount, according to circumstances. Trade and
industry were also hampered in their development by the rigid rules
which closed the frontiers of clans and provinces to strangers, and by
the numerous impediments in the shape of barriers and tolls which
obstructed intercourse and the exchange of commodities between different
parts of the country. To crown matters, the navy consisted of only a few
ships, all of obsolete type with the exception of a monitor bought by
the Tokugawa Government from America, and there was no regular army at
the service of the State.
The military forces at the disposal of the Shōgunate in former days
constituted on paper at least a respectable army for those times,
sufficient, coupled with the policy of _divide et impera_ systematically
followed by Tokugawa Shōguns, to overawe the feudal nobility whose
allegiance was doubtful. The total number of these troops may be
reckoned roughly at about 400,000. They consisted of levies from the
clans. By a law passed in the middle of the seventeenth century the
clans were bound to furnish to the Government fixed quotas of troops,
when occasion demanded, the number of men to be supplied being regulated
by the revenue of a clan—this revenue, again, being the value of the
assessed annual produce of its territories. But the efficiency of these
troops had naturally deteriorated during the long period of peace
coincident with Tokugawa rule, nor in later Tokugawa days could much
dependence be placed on their loyalty to Yedo. The military weakness of
the Shōgunate had been exposed in the course of the operations against
the Chōshiū clan, nor had sufficient time elapsed for the services of
the few foreign instructors employed by the Tokugawa Government to
reorganize the army to have any good effect. During the civil war the
Imperialists had recourse to the formation of small bodies of irregular
troops called _shimpei_, or “New Soldiers,” recruited mainly from the
class of _rōnin_ already mentioned, some of whom were armed with rifles;
but these hastily raised troops were untrained, and their lack of
discipline was shown when they acted as a voluntary escort to the Mikado
on his first visit to the new Capital. From their conduct on that
occasion it was obvious that they might easily become a danger to the
authorities employing them.
Encouraged by the success which had attended its efforts in Satsuma the
mission of conciliation sent to that clan proceeded under instructions
to Chōshiū, where a message from the Mikado of import similar to that
addressed to the Satsuma noble, Shimadzu, was delivered. Here it was
joined by another leading member of the Government, Kido. The mission,
thus reinforced, visited in succession, Tosa, Owari and other clans.
Besides its general purpose of conciliation, elsewhere, as well as in
Satsuma, for the attainment of which it was necessary to enquire into
the state of clan feeling, and take what steps might be advisable to
allay the prevailing discontent, the chief object of the mission was to
enlist the support of the clans concerned for the Government, and
organize a provisional force to uphold central authority. The result of
its efforts, so far as the chief object was concerned, was the formation
of a force of some eight or nine thousand troops, which was obtained
from various clans. A favourable augury for the future lay in the fact
that it included not only clansmen who had taken part in the Restoration
movement, but others who had supported the Tokugawa cause. By this means
was formed the first nucleus of what was to develop by slow degrees into
a national army.
In view of the slender financial resources at the disposal of the new
Government it was decided to exact a forced contribution for the purpose
of meeting the immediate needs of the Exchequer. This contribution, to
which the term of “tribute” was given, was levied on all classes of the
people, officials being called upon to pay a tax amounting to
one-thirtieth of their salaries.
The important points to be noted in the foregoing imperfect sketch of
the situation which confronted the new rulers at this time is that the
revolution was planned and carried out by the military class of certain
clans, with the aid of the Court, the rest of the nation taking no part
in it; and that the leading men in that class who came to the front and
assumed control of affairs were divided into two groups, whose views on
future policy were in the main different. On one side were those who
clung to the old traditional methods of administration, amongst whom
were to be found, nevertheless, men of moderate views. In numbers and
influence they were as superior to their opponents as they were inferior
in vigour, ability and insight. The other group consisted of a few men
of more enlightened and progressive views, who were convinced that the
time had come for the nation to break with its past, and that in the
establishment of a new order of things, visible as yet only in the
vaguest outline, lay the best hope for the future. The conservative, or
reactionary, party, as it may now be called, had long obstinately
opposed foreign intercourse in any form save that which had kept Dutch
traders in the position, virtually, of prisoners of State. Driven by the
force of circumstances from that position, they fell back on a second
line of entrenchments—resistance to changes of any kind when those
changes meant the adoption of foreign customs. There was a fatal flaw of
inconsistency in their attitude of which, perhaps, they were not
unconscious themselves. They made an exception in favour of foreign
innovations which appealed to the nation at large, such as steamships
and material of war. Time, too, was on the side of their opponents, not
on theirs. The doctrines they upheld were part of an order of things
which the nation had outgrown, and was preparing to discard. New ideas
were taking hold of men’s minds, and deserters from their ranks were one
by one joining the standard raised by the party of reform. Never, even
in pre-Tokugawa days, had the nation lacked enterprise. Intercourse with
the Dutch had quickened appreciation of what was known as “Western
Learning,” and provoked secret rebellion against the Tokugawa edicts of
seclusion. Now the spirit of progress was in the air. The tide of
reform, which later on was to sweep the less moderate reformers off
their feet, had set in.
Fortunately for the country at this juncture there was one point on
which both parties were in agreement. Between the leading men on each
side there was a general understanding that the abolition of feudalism,
repugnant as it was to many, could not well be avoided. The Tokugawa
administration had, as we have seen, been established on a feudal basis.
The survival of this feudal foundation may well have appeared compatible
neither with the removal of the rest of the administrative structure,
nor with the avowed principles of the Restoration, however broadly the
latter might be interpreted. The Shōgunate, moreover, had filled two
rôles, so to speak. Itself part of the feudal system, it was also the
central government. The extensive territories, situated in different
parts of the kingdom, known as the Shōgun’s domains, the feudal revenues
of which amounted to one-third of the total revenue of the country, had,
under the Tokugawa _régime_, been administered by the central
government. There were also, as has already been explained, other feudal
territories which, for various reasons, had also been subject, either
from time to time or permanently, to the same central administration.
How to deal with the large area represented by these domains and
territories if the feudal system were to continue, would have been a
difficult problem. The Shōgun’s domains themselves had for the time
being passed into the hands of the new Government which was responsible
for their administration, but there were obvious objections to giving to
them the permanent character of Imperial domains. Apart from the
difficulty of disposing of so wide an area in this way, the adoption of
this course would have perpetuated an undesirable arrangement, the dual
capacity of ruler and feudal lord having been one of the weak points in
the Tokugawa system of administration. It would also have lowered the
dignity of the Throne, which in principle at least had been upheld
through all vicissitudes, by placing it on the same feudal plane as the
defunct Shōgunate, not to speak of the reproach of treading in the
footsteps of their predecessors which the new rulers would have
incurred. To have made them Crown Lands would have entailed still more
awkward consequences. On the other hand, a redistribution of this wide
extent of territory amongst new or old feudatories would have occupied
much time, and time was of importance in the work of reconstruction in
hand. Any step, moreover, in this direction, however carefully designed
to reconcile conflicting claims, would have opened the door to grave
dissension at a moment when clan rivalry was reasserting itself. These
and other considerations, in which questions of national finance—and
perhaps also the idea, borrowed from abroad, that feudalism implied a
backward state of civilization—may have played a part, doubtless
contributed to the unanimity of the decision to cut the Gordian knot by
abolishing the feudal system.
That this solution was one which had already found acceptance in many
quarters there is clear evidence. It is true that no direct reference to
the measure appears in the Charter Oath of April, 1868. But the
manifesto announcing the Shōgun’s resignation, issued in the autumn of
the previous year, contained the suggestion that the old order of things
should be changed, and that administrative authority should be restored
to the Imperial Court. The language of the Tosa memorial which inspired
this resignation was still plainer. It spoke of the danger to which the
country was exposed by the discord existing between the Court, the
Shōgun and the feudal nobility, and advocated “the discontinuance of the
dual system of administration” and “a return to the ancient form of
government.” Making due allowance for the vagueness of the phrases used,
if “the discontinuance of the dual system of administration” meant, as
it clearly did, the cessation of Tokugawa rule, “the restoration of the
ancient” (namely pre-feudal) “form of government” pointed no less
plainly to the abolition of feudalism. The same sequence of ideas
appears in the letter addressed by the Shōgun at the time of his
resignation to the _hatamoto_, the special class of feudal vassals
created by the founder of Tokugawa rule, and in the communication on
this subject presented by his Ministers to the foreign representatives
on the same occasion.
CHAPTER VIII
Abolition of Feudal System—Reconstitution of Classes—Effects of
Abolition of Feudalism.
The abolition of the feudal system formed one of the subjects of
discussion in the embryo parliament, the _Kōgisho_, soon after its
creation in 1869. The way had been prepared for this discussion by the
presentation of memorials on the subject at the time of the Shōgun’s
resignation eighteen months before from several clans representing both
of the parties which were so soon to be engaged in active hostilities.
Memorials of this kind to the Throne and Shōgunate, and Edicts and
Notifications issued in response to them, were common methods in those
days of arriving at decisions in grave matters of State. Borrowed
originally, like so many other things, from China, they were part of the
machinery of central government. The recommendations offered in these
Memorials revealed a considerable divergence of opinion. But they also
showed, what has already been pointed out, namely, the recognition of
the close connection between feudalism and the Shōgunate; and the
existence of a very general feeling that, in spite of the serious
disturbance of the whole administrative structure which so sweeping a
change must necessarily involve, nothing short of the surrender of
feudal fiefs to the Crown would be a satisfactory solution of the
problem presented by the fall of the Shōgunate. This conviction had
taken root in the minds of men like Kido, Iwakura and Ōkubo, whose
mission to the clans, mentioned in a previous chapter, was a proof of
their leading position in the new Government.
The method adopted for giving effect to the decision arrived at was the
_voluntary_ surrender of feudal fiefs to the Throne, the lead in this
matter being taken by the same four clans which had planned and carried
out the Restoration. In March, 1869—a memorable date for the nation—a
Memorial in this sense, the authorship of which is generally ascribed to
Kido, was presented to the Throne by the daimiōs of Satsuma, Chōshiū,
Tosa and Hizen. The chief point emphasized in the Memorial was the
necessity of a complete change of administration in order that “one
central body of government and one universal authority” might be
established; and, in accordance with the intentions of the Memorialists,
the Sovereign was asked to dispose as he might think fit of the land and
the people of the territories surrendered. The circumstances under which
dual government had grown up were explained, stress being laid on the
defect of that system, “the separation of the name from the reality of
power,” and the Tokugawa Shōguns were denounced as usurpers. In this
denunciation of the last line of Japanese rulers, due to political
reasons, the fact that the system of dual government had grown up long
before the Tokugawa family appeared upon the scene was conveniently
ignored. As to “the separation of the name from the reality of power,”
the expression is a reference to an old Chinese phrase, “the name
without the substance,” a metaphor applied, amongst other things, to
figure-head government. This is a stock phrase with Chinese and Japanese
writers, who constantly appeal to a rule of conduct more honoured in the
breach than in the observance.
The example set by the four clans was followed by others. By the end of
the year out of 276 feudatories there were only seventeen abstainers
from the movement, these being daimiōs of eastern territories who had
taken the Shōgun’s side in the civil war. One of the earliest and most
enthusiastic Memorialists was the daimiō of Kishiū, the Tokugawa prince
who had succeeded to that fief by the promotion of his relative, Prince
Kéiki, to be Shōgun. Only three years before he had been an advocate of
the continuance of the Shōgunate. This change of attitude on the part of
a prince who ranked with the daimiōs of Owari and Mito at the head of
the feudal nobility may be interpreted as showing how natural was the
association of feudalism with the Shōgunate in men’s minds, and how
difficult for him, as for others, was the conception of a feudal system
without a Shōgun.
The reply of the Throne to the Memorialists was of a non-committal
nature. They were told that the question would be submitted to a Council
of feudal nobles shortly to be held in the new Capital. There is no
reason to suppose that the caution displayed in this answer implied any
hesitation on the part of the Government to carry out the measure
contemplated. The drastic character of the proposal justified caution in
dealing with it, and the variety of the interests involved called for
careful consideration. The proposal having been submitted to the
assembly of daimiōs for their formal approval, a Decree was issued in
August of the same year announcing its acceptance by the Throne, which
felt, it was said, “that this course would consolidate the authority of
the Government.” As a preliminary step, the administration of clan
territories was remodelled so as to correspond with the new order of
things; the daimiōs called together to pronounce on their own destinies
returned in the altered rôle of governors (_Chihanji_) to the
territories over which they had hitherto ruled; and the Government
settled down to consider and determine in detail the various
arrangements rendered necessary by the new conditions about to be
created.
Two years later, on the 29th August, 1871, the Imperial Decree
abolishing the feudal system appeared. “The clans,” so it ran, “are
abolished, and prefectures are established in their place.” The brevity
of the Decree, singular even for such documents, the length of which
often ranged from one extreme to another, may in this instance be
accounted for by the fact that an Imperial message was at the same time
addressed to the new clan governors. In this reference was made to the
sanction already accorded by the Throne to the proposal for the
surrender of feudal fiefs, and it was pointed out that the sanction then
expressed was not to be regarded as another instance of the common
defect of “the name without the substance,” but that the Decree now
issued must be understood in its literal sense, namely, the abolition of
the clans and their conversion into prefectures. The message was
followed by an order directing the ex-daimiōs to reside in future, with
their families, in Yedo, their territories being entrusted temporarily
to the care of former clan officers. This measure, while undoubtedly
strengthening the hands of the Government, must have forcibly reminded
the nobles concerned of the precautionary methods of Tokugawa days.
A further step in the same direction was taken by the amalgamation of
the Court and feudal nobility into one class, to which the new name of
_kwazoku_ (nobles) was given. The abolition of feudalism, moreover,
entailed the disappearance of the _samurai_, the fighting men of the
clans, and the rearrangement of existing classes. Under the feudal
system there had been, outside of the nobility, four classes—the
two-sworded men, or _samurai_, the farmers, the artizans and the
merchants, or tradesmen. The new arrangement now introduced comprised
only two classes—the gentry (_shizoku_), who replaced the _samurai_, and
the common people (_heimin_). What also had formed a pariah class by
itself, consisting of social outcasts known as _éta_ and _hinin_, was
abolished, its members being merged into the class of _heimin_. A
further innovation was introduced in the shape of a proclamation
permitting members of the former military class to discontinue the
practice of wearing their swords, which had been a strict feudal rule.
The Decree abolishing the clans was anticipated in one or two feudal
territories, the authorities concerned acting on the previous
announcement of the Imperial sanction having been given to the proposal
of the Memorialists, and amalgamating, of their own accord, the
_samurai_ with the rest of the population. The example was not generally
followed, but ever since the issue of that announcement memorials and
petitions had been flowing in from the military class in many districts
asking for early effect to be given to the measure in contemplation, and
for permission to lay aside their swords and take up agricultural
occupations. Nor was there wanting the stimulus in the same direction
supplied by inspired writers in the Press that was just coming into
existence under official auspices. One of these observed that what the
nation needed was an Imperial army and uniformity in land tenure,
taxation, currency, education and penal laws—aspirations all destined to
be fulfilled in the near future. The general feeling thus shown
doubtless influenced the Government in taking the final step.
Shortly before the issue of the Decree there occurred a reconstruction
of the Ministry, strengthening the position of the leaders of the party
of reform, and that of the clans they represented, while the influence
of the aristocratic element in the Government was diminished. In the
reconstituted Cabinet, as we may now call it, Prince Sanjō remained
Prime Minister, Prince Iwakura became Minister for Foreign Affairs,
replacing a Court noble, while four prominent clansmen whom the
Restoration had, as we have seen, brought to the front, took office as
Councillors of State. These four were Saigō, Kido, Itagaki and Ōkuma.
To this date also belongs a troublesome incident which called for the
intervention of the foreign representatives. The Japanese authorities,
fearing a recurrence of the disturbances connected with the Christian
propaganda of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, had always
regarded with misgiving the treaty clause permitting the erection of
Christian places of worship at the open ports. This apprehension was
increased by the renewal of missionary effort when the country was
reopened to foreign trade and intercourse. As a precautionary measure,
the old official notices denouncing Christianity as a pernicious
doctrine had continued to be displayed in all parts of the country, and
at Nagasaki, which had at one time been a Christian centre, the
population had been forced annually to trample upon emblems of the
proscribed faith. On the erection in 1865 of a Roman Catholic Church at
that place, which had in the meantime become an open port, people from
the neighbourhood attended it in such numbers as to attract the
attention of the authorities. It was then discovered that Christian
doctrines had not been completely stamped out there, as had been the
case elsewhere. The offending individuals were consequently ordered to
be banished to remote districts, the foreign representatives being with
difficulty successful in obtaining a temporary suspension of the orders.
After the Restoration the official notices proscribing the Christian
religion were, with the substitution of the Mikado’s authority for that
of the Shōgun, deliberately renewed, and in 1870 the orders for the
banishment of the offenders were carried out in spite of repeated
remonstrances on the part of the foreign representatives. Otherwise,
however, judged by the standard of those days, the treatment to which
the exiles were subjected appears on the whole to have been free from
excessive cruelty. It was not till the year 1873 that the practice of
Christianity ceased to be forbidden. The notices proscribing the
Christian religion were then withdrawn, and the banished persons were
restored to their homes. In curious contrast to this recrudescence of
persecution was the suggestion, made in a pamphlet about the same time,
that Christianity should be officially recognized, a suggestion which is
said to have been carried still further some years later, when the
attraction for Western civilization was at its height, by a prominent
member of the Ministry.
To return to the subject of feudalism, from which this digression in the
interests of chronological order has led us away, its abolition was the
first, as it was also the most radical, of the reforms on which the new
Government embarked. It struck at the root of old-established things and
cleared the way for all future progress. It is a pity that Marquis Ōkuma
in his _Fifty Years of New Japan_ has dismissed the subject in a few
lines. Himself one of the chief actors in the scene, no one was better
qualified to deal with it. Foreign writers less well equipped for the
task have given it more attention. Some of these have taken the
superficial view, founded on the signatures appended to the Memorials,
that the voluntary surrender of fiefs was due to the initiative of the
feudal nobles themselves, and have praised their action for what they
regarded as its exalted patriotism and unique self-sacrifice. This view
is quite erroneous. Occasion has already been taken to point out how the
surroundings in which the daimiōs of those days were brought up had the
effect of depriving them of all character and initiative, and how they,
like the Mikado and Shōgun, were mere puppets in the hands of others,
unfitted for responsibility of any kind, unaccustomed to the direction
of affairs. Lest it be thought that the picture has been overdrawn, it
may be well to quote the words of a Japanese writer of the time. They
occur in an anonymous pamphlet published in 1869, extracts from which
are given by Sir Francis Adams in his _History of Japan_.
“The great majority of feudal lords,” the writer says, “are generally
persons who have been born and nurtured in the seclusion of the women’s
apartments: ... who even when they have grown up to man’s estate still
exhibit all the traits of childhood. Leading a life of leisure, they
succeed to the inheritance of their ancestors.... And in the same
category are those who, though designated vassals, are born of good
family on the great estates.”
Of the truth of this statement there is abundant evidence. There were,
indeed, a few instances of feudal chiefs who had some share of power and
influence. But they were exceptions to the general rule, and the
authority they exercised was brought to bear rather on the affairs of
the State than on the administration of their own territories. Long
before the Restoration the government of feudal fiefs had passed out of
the hands of the nominal rulers, and their hereditary chief retainers,
into those of clansmen of inferior status. These were the real authors
of the measure of reform which swept away the feudal system. They were
the same men who carried out the Restoration. Throughout all the
negotiations for the surrender of their fiefs the feudal nobility
counted for nothing, and, as a class, were only dimly conscious, if
aware at all, of what was going on before their eyes.
In return for the voluntary surrender of their fiefs the dispossessed
daimiōs received pensions amounting to one-tenth of their former
revenues, the payment of the small hereditary incomes of the _samurai_,
in their altered status of gentry, being continued for the present by
the Government. From this arrangement, however, the _samurai_ of one or
two clans who had offered a prolonged resistance to the Imperialist
forces were excluded, a distinction which caused much suffering and
hardship.
The surrender of the clan territories involved, of course, the rendition
of the lands, varying greatly in extent, that were held by the two large
sections of the military class already mentioned, the _hatamoto_ and
_gokénin_. Their pensions were regulated on a scale similar to that
adopted for the feudal nobility.
The amount of the revenues acquired by the Government in consequence of
the surrender of all feudal territories, including the Shōgun’s domains,
the administration of which had previously been taken over, is not easy
to determine. A very rough estimate is all that is possible. The extent
of the latter has already been noticed. Still more remarkable was its
wide distribution. Out of the sixty-eight provinces into which Japan at
the time of the Restoration was divided no less than forty-seven, by
reasons of lands owned therein by the Shōgunate, contributed towards the
Tokugawa exchequer. In the Tokugawa law known as “The Hundred Articles”
the total assessed yield of the country is given as 28,000,000 _koku_ of
rice, the yield of all land, whatever the nature of its produce, being
stated in terms of that cereal. Of this, 20,000,000 _koku_ represented
the produce of the lands of the feudal nobility and gentry, and the
balance the yield of the Shōgun’s estates. This statement was made in
the seventeenth century, and it is natural to suppose that by the time
the Restoration took place the revenues in question may have increased
with the general progress of the nation. In the absence of exact data we
shall probably not be far wrong if we estimate the gross revenue which
came into the possession of the Government by the abolition of the
Shōgunate and the feudal system, of which it formed a part, as not much
under 35,000,000 _koku_ of rice, equivalent, at the average price of
rice at that time, to about £35,000,000. From this had to be deducted
the share of the cultivators, which varied according to the locality.
Out of the residue, again, the pensions due to the feudal nobility, and
other members of the military class, had to be paid, so that the net
balance accruing to the national exchequer in the first years of the new
administration could not have been large.
The effects on the various classes of the nation caused by the abolition
of feudalism were very different, the benefit derived from it by some
contrasting sharply with the hardship inflicted upon others. These
effects, however, were for the most part gradual in their operation.
They were not realized in their full extent until some years later, when
the multifarious details connected with the carrying out of this great
undertaking had been laboriously worked out.
With the exception of the _fudai_ daimiōs and the feudal groups of
_hatamoto_ and _gokénin_—which constituted the hereditary personal
following of the Tokugawa Shōguns, standing between the higher feudal
aristocracy and the bulk of the military class—there is no reason to
think that the territorial nobility suffered very greatly by the change,
save, at once, in loss of dignity, and, later on, in the compulsory
commutation of their pensions. Denied by custom all share in the
management of clan affairs, they had little call to object to a measure
the true import of which was imperfectly appreciated, or do anything
else but silently acquiesce in the decisions of the masterful retainers
by whose counsels they and their ancestors were accustomed to be guided.
As a matter of State policy the change was as much beyond their control
as it was above their powers of comprehension, which rarely strayed
outside the orbit of trivial pursuits and pleasures in which they were
content to move. Some, indeed, may have welcomed the change as a release
from irksome conditions of existence, and as offering a prospect of
wider fields of action. The case of the _fudai_ daimiōs, and others in
the same category, was different. To them the abolition of the feudal
system was a severe blow, for it meant the loss of official emoluments
which, under the Shōgunate, they had enjoyed as a special privilege for
generations.
To the two classes of artizans and merchants the immediate effect may
very naturally have been unwelcome in so far as it entailed disturbance
of existing conditions of livelihood, of old-established usages of
industry and trade. Under feudalism not only had a close system of clan
guilds grown up, but, as in Europe during the Middle Ages, artizans and
tradesmen engaged in the same handicraft or business were restricted to
separate quarters of a town. The former may also have had reason to
regret the liberal patronage of feudal customers, which allowed leisure
and scope for the exercise of individual skill, and to view with concern
the pressure of open competition in the industrial market. But as the
new conditions became stabilized, and the benefits of uniformity of
administration became apparent, neither class had any reason to be
dissatisfied with the alteration in their circumstances. Certainly not
the merchants and tradesmen. The disappearance of the barriers between
provinces and between clans was all to their advantage, while the
opening up of new channels of commercial activity must have more than
compensated for any drawbacks attending the new order of things.
One class—the most important at that time—the _samurai_, suffered
greatly by the change. Accustomed for centuries to high rank in the
social order, to a position of superiority over the rest of the people,
from whom they were distinguished by privileges and customs of long
standing, as well as by a traditional code of chivalry in which they
took a legitimate pride, the _samurai_ found themselves suddenly
relegated to a status little differing from that of their former
inferiors. It is true that the military class, as a whole, had long been
in an impoverished condition owing to the embarrassment of clan
finances, which had led in several cases to the reduction of feudal
establishments, and to the rigid rule which kept the members of this
class from engaging in any of the profitable occupations open to the
rest of the nation; and that the unrest and discontent which resulted
from this state of things may have induced them to regard with favour
any change which held out the prospect of a possible amelioration in
their circumstances. There is some truth also in the view that the eager
enthusiasm of the party of reform, inspired with a belief in the
fulfilment of their cherished aspirations, may have found an echo in the
minds of the military class and stirred the patriotic impulses so
conspicuous in the nation; while, at the same time, the sentiment of
feudal loyalty may have dictated implicit obedience to the decision of
clan authorities. Making allowance for the influence of considerations
of this nature, there can, nevertheless, be little doubt that the sudden
change in the fortunes of the military class aroused a bitter feeling,
which showed itself later in the outbreak of grave disturbances.
The unpopularity of the measure was increased by the commutation of
pensions, which bore very hardly on the military class. In introducing
in 1873 a scheme for this purpose the Government was influenced mainly
by the pressing needs of the national exchequer. Under this scheme
Government bonds bearing 8 per cent interest were issued. _Samurai_ with
hereditary incomes of less than 100 _koku_ of rice were enabled to
commute their pensions, if they chose to do so, on the basis of six
years’ purchase, receiving half of the sum to which they were entitled
in cash, and the remainder in bonds; while the basis for those in
receipt of annuities was fixed at four and a half years’ purchase, the
low rates of purchase in both cases being accounted for by the high
rates of interest then prevailing.
Three years later the voluntary character of commutation was made
compulsory, and extended to all members of the military class
irrespective of the amount of income involved. The current rate of
interest having by that time fallen, the basis of commutation was
increased to ten years’ purchase for all alike, a slight reduction being
made in the rate of interest payable on the bonds, which varied
according to the amount of the income commuted. Indirectly this
commutation resulted in further misfortune for the military class.
Unversed in business methods, without experience in trading operations,
many _samurai_ were tempted to employ the little capital they had
received in unremunerative enterprises, the failure of which brought
them to extreme poverty.
CHAPTER IX
Effects of Abolition of Feudalism on Agricultural Class—Changes in Land
Tenure—Land-Tax Revision.
The abolition of feudalism came as a boon to the peasantry. If it
inflicted much hardship on the _samurai_, who formed the bulk of the
military class, while the verdict as to its results in other cases
depended on the conclusion to be reached after balancing the gain and
loss attending its operation, to the farmers it was a veritable
blessing. Its full significance was, however, not felt until after the
lapse of several years.
Under the feudal system the position of the farmer varied to some extent
according to locality. In Satsuma, for instance, besides the ordinary
farming class, there were _samurai_ farmers. Again, in certain parts of
the province of Mito, and elsewhere, there was a special class of yeoman
farmers who enjoyed some of the privileges of the _samurai_. But
throughout the country generally the bulk of the agricultural class
consisted of peasant farmers, who, while cultivating their land on
conditions similar to what is known in Europe as the _métayage_ system,
were in many respects little better than serfs. The peasant farmer could
not leave his holding, and go elsewhere, as he pleased; nor could he
dispose of his interest in it, though by means of mortgages it was
possible to evade the law in this respect. To the frequent call for
forced labour he was obliged to respond. He was subject to restrictions
in regard to the crops to be cultivated, and their rotation, while in
the disposal of his produce he was hampered by the interference of clan
guilds. The farmer had also to bear the expense and risk of conveying
the tax-produce of his land to the receiving stations, besides being
obliged to deliver on each occasion an extra amount to cover the loss
supposed to occur in its transportation. On the other hand, though under
the feudal form of land tenure he was tied to the soil and transferable
with it when it changed hands, he was practically free from disturbance
in his holding so long as he paid his rent, which took the form of a
share of the produce of the land, and other imposts exacted from time to
time by feudal bailiffs. Fixity of tenure, therefore, he certainly
enjoyed; and, looking at the peculiar nature of his association with the
feudal landlord, it seems questionable whether his rights in the land he
cultivated may not be regarded as having much of the character of
ownership. Holdings, it may be added, descended from father to son, or,
failing direct heirs, in the same family, the right of adoption being,
of course, recognized.
The interests of the peasantry were affected in many ways by the
abolition of the feudal system. The abrupt change in the position of the
cultivator caused by the disappearance of his feudal landlord opened up
the whole question of land tenure and land taxation, not only as it
affected the peasant cultivator, but in its bearing on the occupiers of
all agricultural land throughout the country, as well as other land not
included in this category. To enable the Government to cope with a task
of this magnitude, and at the same time to carry out their declared aims
in the direction of uniformity of administration, far-reaching
legislation was necessary.
In view of the singular character of the feudal tenure we have
described, under which landlord and tenant were associated in a kind of
joint ownership, it might have been supposed that advantage would be
taken of the opportunity offered by the surrender of fiefs to place the
question of land tenure on a clear footing by defining accurately the
position of the people, and more especially the cultivators, with regard
to the land. This, however, was not done. No Decree affecting the broad
issue raised by the abolition of the feudal system was promulgated. It
was only by degrees that the intentions of the Government became
apparent. Step by step the policy in view was manifested by the removal
of the various restrictions which had curtailed the tenants’ rights,
until at length it became clear that, while retaining the theory that
the ownership of all land was vested as of right in the Crown, the
intention was that each occupier of land should become virtually the
proprietor of his holding.
One of the first acts of the Government at the end of the civil war had
been to place all land as far as possible on a common footing, the
earliest step in this direction being taken in the spring of 1869. It
was then enacted that all land held in grant from previous governments
should be liable to taxation. This measure affected all grantees of
land, the _yashikis_, or feudal residences of the territorial nobility
in Yedo, coming under the new rule. The ground covered by these
_yashikis_, some of which were extensive, forming separate parks in the
neighbourhood of the castle and in other quarters of the city, had
originally, like other grants of land, been handed over in free gift,
neither rent nor land-tax being paid.
An essential point in the uniformity of administration contemplated by
the new Government was the reform of all taxation, precedence being
given to the revision of the land-tax. No hesitation was shown in taking
up this task. Finance was the weak point in the administrative
situation, as it had been that of the previous Government; and land
having since early days been the main source of revenue, it was natural
that the question of the land-tax should be the first to receive
attention. Before the abolition of feudalism, and while the clans still
retained their own provincial administration, it was not possible to
take practical steps towards fiscal changes that should apply to all
parts of the country. But the movement in favour of the surrender of
feudal fiefs had begun almost as soon as the triumph of the Imperialist
forces was assured, and by the time the feudal system was abolished by
the Decree of August, 1871, the subject had been examined by the new
Government in all its bearings, and the shape which the revision of the
land-tax should take had been determined. It was, therefore, possible
for a complete scheme of revision to be brought forward by the Finance
Department before the end of the same year, that is to say, within four
months after the disappearance of the clans.
Before dwelling on the main features of this proposal, for which Marquis
Ōkuma and Marquis Inouyé, then Minister and Vice-Minister of Finance
respectively, and Baron Kanda, an authority on all questions of
administration, were mainly responsible, it may be well to glance for a
moment at the previous system of land taxation in order that a clear
idea of the changes introduced may be formed.
Put shortly, the position of holders of land in regard to taxation in
the last days of Tokugawa rule was this. Only land under cultivation was
taxed. The land-tax was payable everywhere in rice, whatever the crop
cultivated might be, and was based on the assessed yield of the land.
But the methods of estimating this yield varied greatly. In one place
this would be done by taking the measurement of the land bearing the
crop; in another the appearance and condition of the crop would be the
decisive factors; while in a third there would be “assessment by
sample,” as it was called, specimens of the growing crop being selected
for the purpose. The land measures, too, were not everywhere the same.
Moreover, the principle which governed the distribution of the produce
of the land between the cultivator and the landlord—the latter’s share
being, in effect, the former’s land-tax—varied in different provinces,
and in different districts of the same province. In some places
seven-tenths of the yield of land went to the landlord, and three-tenths
to the cultivator; in others these proportions were reversed; there were
districts, such as the Shōgun’s domains, where the cultivator received
three-fifths, and other, again, where the proportions were equal. There
was a general resemblance, dating back to the time of the Great Reform,
between the taxation systems in force throughout the country. The old
classification, under which there were three main heads of taxation, the
land-tax, the industrial-tax and forced labour—all payable by the
cultivator—was retained everywhere in a modified form. But each clan
went its own way in other respects, having its own methods of assessment
and collection, as well as its own rules of exemption from, and
remission of, taxation. Except in the Shōgun’s domains, where matters,
generally, were regulated on a somewhat better basis than elsewhere,
there was no very definite distinction between central and local
taxation; and, whether it was a clan or the Shōgunate itself to which
taxes were due, there was a constant liability to irregular exactions
imposed at the pleasure of the authorities.
The main features of the new scheme show the importance of the changes
proposed.
A new official survey of land throughout the country was to be carried
out. Title-deeds were to be issued for all land, whether cultivated or
not. Land everywhere was to be valued, and the value stated in the
title-deed. In the case of cultivated land the land-tax was to be made
payable in money, instead of in rice, as before, and was to be based on
the selling value of the land, as declared in the title-deed, and not,
as before, on the assessed yield of the holding. The proprietor—for
this, in effect, the farmer became when the revision was
accomplished—was to be free to cultivate his land in all respects as he
pleased, and could sell or otherwise dispose of it as he chose.
The _Sei-in_—that curious body in the reorganized Government of 1869
which represented an attempt to combine in one branch of authority
legislative, deliberative and executive powers—signified its approval of
the scheme, and arrangements were made to give effect to some of its
provisions. In January, 1872, as a tentative measure, title-deed
regulations were issued. These were made operative at first only in the
Tōkiō prefecture, but their operation was gradually extended to other
places. Shortly afterwards further regulations providing for the annual
payment of land-tax at the rate of 2 per cent on the value of land, as
entered in the title-deed, were published. And in March of the same year
the restrictions on the alienation of land, which had previously
prevented all transfers of land between the military class and other
classes of the people, as well as between members of the latter, were
removed.
Before, however, this scheme for the revision of the land-tax assumed
its final legislative shape it underwent various modifications. It was
submitted early in 1873 to a conference of the chief administrative
officials in the provinces which took place in the Capital. The
necessity of reform on the lines suggested was admitted by all
concerned. The main point on which opinions differed was whether the
revision of the land-tax should be carried out as soon as possible, or
gradually. The advocates of prompt action urged that the question should
be dealt with quickly and decisively, arguing that whatever
disadvantages might attend this course would be more than
counterbalanced by the benefits resulting from a uniform system of
taxation. The other side held that it would be unwise to do away
suddenly with old customs and usages, and that it would be better to
carry out the contemplated changes very gradually, taking care not to
offend local prejudice. In the end the views of the advocates of prompt
action prevailed, and a draft law was prepared. This, having received
the sanction of the Throne, was notified to the country by Imperial
Decree in July of the same year. No direct reference was made in the
Decree either to the change of government, or to the abolition of
feudalism, which were the real causes that had inspired the measure. It
may have been thought inadvisable to refer to a past so full of
dangerous memories, and so recent as to invite inconvenient comparisons.
The Decree itself merely stated the object of the measure, which was “to
remedy the existing harsh and unequal incidence of taxation,” and the
fact that local authorities, besides other officials, had been consulted
in its preparation. In the notification accompanying it further
information was given. It was explained that the old system of paying
taxes on cultivated land in rice was abolished; that as soon as fresh
title-deeds had been prepared land-tax would be paid at the rate of 3
per cent on the value of the land; and that the same course would be
followed in the case of local land taxation, with the proviso that the
local land rate should not exceed one-third of the Imperial land-tax.
By a looseness of wording, which may have escaped notice at the time,
both the Decree and the Notification spoke of the land-tax as having
been revised. It needed more than a stroke of the pen to do this.
Neither those who in the conference objected to hasty measures, nor
those who were in favour of prompt action, had foreseen the length of
time that would be occupied in the execution of the reform. It was left
to the practical exigencies of the situation to effect a compromise
between the two parties which the conference had failed to bring about.
The original estimate of the time needed to carry out the measure was
found to be quite inadequate. Though the task was set about at once,
several years elapsed before it was completed; and eventually it was
decided to allow the new scheme to come into operation in each district,
as soon as the requisite arrangements had been made, without waiting for
its adoption in other places.
Voluminous regulations were appended to the Notification. In one of
these a promise was given that the rate of land-tax would be reduced to
1 per cent whenever the total annual revenue from other sources should
have reached the sum of _Yen_ 2,000,000 (£400,000). This promise was
never fulfilled. By the time the revenue from other sources had reached
the amount stated the needs of the new Government had so outgrown its
resources that reduction to the extent contemplated was not possible. A
reduction from 3 to 2½ per cent was, however, made a few years later,
while the work of revision was still proceeding.
Some other points may be noted in passing which throw light on the
principles underlying the measure.
All holders of land were required to remeasure it, and furnish a
statement of its value. These estimates were then to be checked by
comparison with similar estimates made by official experts. In the case
of a holder of land refusing to agree to the value fixed by the
assessors, the land was to be sold.
The land-tax of 3 per cent was to be levied only on cultivated land,
this category including both rice land and other arable land. The tax on
house land was higher, while that on other classes of land, such as land
covered by forests, pasture or moorland, was almost nominal.
The plan adopted, wherever possible, in fixing the value of land in a
district was to take a certain village as a specimen, and, having fixed
the value of the land in it, to make that value the basis for
determining the value of all other land in the district, the guiding
principle being to ascertain the actual profit it yielded to the
cultivator. With this principle in view, the method employed for
determining the value of cultivated land was as follows: Land was first
of all divided into two classes, rice land, and land on which other
crops were grown. The official assessors having, with the assistance of
the cultivator, estimated the annual yield of the holding, this yield
was, in the case of rice, wheat and beans, converted into money by
taking the average market price per _koku_ (about five bushels) of each
of these articles of produce for the five years 1870–4 inclusive. In
fixing this average market price it would have been impossible to have
taken one price for the whole country, since the prices of all staple
articles varied in many districts. The difficulty was, therefore, met by
fixing several market values, to be used as the separate bases of
valuation wherever local conditions and circumstances required special
consideration. Thus in some cases one market price for rice, or for
wheat, was made the basis for valuing land in a whole province; whereas
in other cases separate market prices had to be determined for
particular districts, or even villages. In the case of land on which
other produce, such as tea, silk, hemp and indigo, etc., was grown, the
method adopted was to estimate what crops of wheat, or beans, land of
the same kind in the same place yielded. This yield was then taken as
that of the land in question, and converted into money in the usual way.
Up to this point the method followed was the same for all land, whether
a man cultivated his own holding, or held it on lease from the
proprietor. In the former case the next step in the process of fixing
land values was to deduct from the total value of the yield of the land
15 per cent, as cost of seed and manure. From the sum that remained the
land-tax and local taxes were again deducted, as well as the cost of
wages, if these were paid, for labour employed. The balance remaining
over was taken to represent the net value of the yield of the land. And,
as the Government decided to regard 6 per cent as the average rate of
profit accruing to a cultivator, the value of a holding was determined
by a simple calculation. This value, so determined, became the assessed
or taxable value of the land, and on this the land-tax was levied. The
process by which the value was arrived at in the case of a cultivator
who held his land on lease was a little more complicated. Stated in
other words, the taxable value of cultivated land, as determined by the
revision, was in all cases the net value of its yield to the cultivator,
whether the latter was owner, or only tenant.
To the question of the periods of payment of the land-tax much attention
was given. The three instalments in which it was at first made payable
were afterwards reduced to two, the dates of payment varying according
to the nature of the crop cultivated. It should be noted, also, that in
making the revised land-tax uniform throughout the country an exception
was introduced in favour of Yezo, or the Hokkaidō, to give it its
administrative name. There, in order to encourage the development of
what was then the northernmost island, the rate of tax was fixed at 1
per cent.
Four years after the work of revision had begun the land-tax was, as
already stated, reduced to 2½ per cent. In the Decree announcing this
reduction allusion was made to the growing needs of the country, which
had not yet been able, it was said, to adjust itself to the changed
conditions brought about by the Restoration, and to the distress still
prevailing amongst the agricultural classes. The apparent slowness with
which the work of revision proceeded was brought to the notice of the
local authorities by the Government, and the year 1876 was fixed as the
date by which the revision must be concluded. Neither that year,
however, nor the next saw the end of the undertaking. It lasted five
years longer, being eventually completed in 1881.
[Illustration:
MARQUIS INOUYÉ.
Took an active part in the Government formed after the Restoration,
and was an outstanding figure in Foreign as well as Financial
affairs.
]
[Illustration:
MARQUIS ŌKUMA.
Was prominent in the formation of the new Government subsequent to the
Restoration; was for some time in Opposition, returning to the
Ministry later. Conspicuous as an advocate of constitutional
government, as an author, and as an educationalist, he was the most
versatile of all the statesmen of his day.
]
By a very rough computation, which is all that the unreliability of
statistics in those days will permit, the extent of taxable land
occupied, or owned, by the people previous to the revision may be
estimated at about ten million acres. As the result of the revision this
area was more than quadrupled. On the other hand, the revenue derived
from the land showed a falling off of 5 per cent. This result is
explained by the fact that some of the land had before been over-taxed,
while a large portion of the new taxable area consisted of uncultivated
land paying only a nominal tax, and, therefore, contributing little to
the revenue.
The total cost of the revision of the land-tax, according to official
estimates, was about £7,500,000. Of this sum about £6,000,000 were
repaid by the people, the balance being defrayed by the provincial
authorities, with the exception of an item of some £100,000 which was
charged to the central government. Heavy as this expense was, the gain
to Japan would have justified a greater cost. For the first time in her
history there was one uniform system of land taxation for the whole
country, and, with the exception above mentioned, one uniform rate.
Since the completion of the task of revision the system of land taxation
has _in its main features_ remained unchanged. But the heavy expenditure
entailed by the Russo-Japanese war in 1904–5 made it necessary for the
Government to increase taxation of all kinds. Special war taxes were
then imposed. Amongst these was an additional land-tax. When the war
came to an end this additional tax was retained, as was the case with
our own income-tax, and the Chinese transit tax on commodities
(_lekin_), both of which were also originally war taxes.
A feature to be noted in connection with this land reform is the change
that was made in the title to land. Hitherto the registration of land in
the local land register, in accordance with the practice of centuries,
as well as entries regarding the transfer of land recorded in the same
land register, had constituted the holder’s title. Henceforth the title
to land was determined by the possession of a title-deed. The new
system, however, did not come to stay. After a trial of over fifteen
years it was abandoned in March, 1889, in favour of the old method of
registration in the land books of a district which, with certain later
modifications in matters of detail, is now in force.
The reclassification of land—one of the results of the land reform—was
set forth in an elaborate schedule, into the details of which it is
unnecessary to enter. A reference to the various classes into which land
was divided establishes two facts:
1. All cultivated land, with a few exceptions, belongs to the people.
2. All waste land, with a few exceptions, belongs to the Government.
To these we may add a third, that all land in Japan is subject to
land-tax, with three exceptions:
(_a_) Government land.
(_b_) Land held for religious purposes.
(_c_) Land used for purposes of irrigation, drainage, and roads.
CHAPTER X
Missions to Foreign Governments—Hindrances to Reform—Language
Difficulties—Attitude of Foreign Powers.
The numerous measures called for by the abolition of feudalism did not
prevent the new Government from turning their attention to foreign
affairs. In the same year (1871) which saw the issue of the Decree
giving practical effect to the surrender of feudal fiefs a mission
composed of Iwakura, Minister for Foreign Affairs, and two Councillors
of State, Kido and Ōkubo, was despatched to Europe and the United
States. The suite of the mission, which numbered more than fifty
persons, included Mr. (afterwards Prince) Itō.
This was the third mission sent from Japan to the Courts of Treaty
Powers, and by far the most important. The first of these, despatched by
the Tokugawa Government early in 1862, when the conditions surrounding
foreign intercourse were rendered precarious by the open hostility of
the Court party, had achieved some measure of success in obtaining a
postponement for five years of the dates fixed for the opening of the
ports of Hiogo and Niigata, and the towns of Yedo and Ōsaka; the reasons
by which the request was supported, as well as the conditions on which
consent was given, being recorded so far as Great Britain was concerned,
in the London Protocol of June, 1862. The reasons were: “the
difficulties experienced by the Tycoon and his Ministers in giving
effect to their engagements with foreign Powers having treaties with
Japan in consequence of the opposition offered by a party in Japan which
was hostile to all intercourse with foreigners.” The conditions, shortly
stated, were: the strict observance of all other Treaty stipulations;
the revocation of the old law outlawing foreigners; and the cessation in
future of official interference of any kind with trade and intercourse.
The second was sent by the same Government in February, 1864. Its
ostensible object was to apologize to the French Government for the
murder of the French officer, Lieutenant Camus, which had taken place in
October of the previous year. Its real objects, however, were to
endeavour to obtain the consent of Treaty Powers to the closing of the
port of Yokohama, a matter in regard to which the Shōgun’s Ministers had
already appealed in vain to the foreign representatives; and,
incidentally, to take an opportunity if it offered, of purchasing war
material. The mission, which never went beyond Paris, returned to Japan
in the following August at the moment when arrangements were being
completed for the forcing of the Straits of Shimonoséki by a combined
foreign squadron. It brought for the approval of the Shōgun’s Government
a convention concluded by the members of the mission with the French
Government. This somewhat singular instrument, which bore the signature
of Monsieur Drouyn de Lhuys, then Minister for Foreign Affairs, provided
that it was—after its acceptance by the Shōgun’s Government—to come into
force at once, and was to be regarded as forming an integral part of the
existing Treaty between France and Japan. It contained, amongst other
things, a stipulation for the reopening of the Straits within three
months after the return of the mission to Japan, and also provided for
the co-operation, if necessary, of the French naval squadron in Japanese
waters with the Shōgun’s forces in the attainment of this object. The
Shōgun’s repudiation of the agreement prevented the occurrence of what
might have been troublesome complications, the only result of the
incident being a delay of a few days in the departure for Shimonoséki of
the allied squadron.
The ostensible object of this third mission, like that of the first,
related to Treaty stipulations. By a clause of the treaties of 1858—the
texts of which were more or less identical, while their interpretation
was governed by the stipulation regarding “most-favoured-nation”
treatment—provision was made for revision _by mutual consent_ in 1872.
This consent it was the purpose of the mission to obtain. The number of
Treaty Powers had by this time increased to fifteen, but the interests
of most of them being very small, it was recognized that if the consent
of the chief Powers could be obtained, no difficulties would be raised
by others.
The working of the treaties had been on the whole satisfactory, as
satisfactory, that is to say, as it was reasonable to expect from the
exceptional circumstances attending their negotiation; and there seemed
to be no special points in regard to which revision was in any way
urgent. This, however, was not the view taken by the Japanese
Government. Very soon after the coming into operation of the treaties of
1858 the Japanese authorities and people seem to have taken umbrage at
the extra-territorial privileges enjoyed by foreigners in Japan under
Treaty stipulations. It is more than probable that this feeling with
regard to extra-territoriality may not have been altogether spontaneous,
but may have been inspired at this time by foreigners actuated by mixed
motives, and inclined to draw hasty conclusions. In any case, the
Japanese early became aware that the enjoyment of extra-territoriality
was regarded generally as a privilege conceded under pressure to the
subjects of countries possessing, or claiming to possess, a civilization
more advanced in some respects than that of the country from which the
concession was obtained. The pride of the nation rebelled against the
discrimination thus exercised, and not unnaturally it was eager to seize
the first opportunity that presented itself to get rid of the obnoxious
extra-territorial clauses that stood in the way of the exercise of
Japanese jurisdiction over foreigners in Japan. This was the main motive
underlying the desire for revision of the treaties.
There were, however, additional objects in view in sending the mission.
To the foreign representatives the Government explained their anxiety to
communicate to the Governments of Treaty Powers details of the internal
history of their country during the years preceding the revolution of
1868, and their wish to inform them of the actual state of affairs, and
the future policy it was intended to pursue. They also considered it
important, it was added, to study the institutions of other countries
and to gain a precise knowledge of their laws, of the measures in force
regarding commerce and education, as well as of their naval and military
systems.
So far as these minor objects were concerned, the proceedings of the
mission were attended with success. This was shown not only by the
period of its absence abroad, which extended over two years, far longer
than had been intended, but also by the rapid progress of the work of
reform after its return. The information gained by its members, amongst
whom were some of the most talented men of the day, was later on of much
service to their country; while the insight they gained into foreign
affairs, and the disposition of foreign Governments towards Japan, was
of the greatest value. In the matter of the ostensible purpose of the
mission, however, nothing was accomplished. The efforts of the
ambassadors in this direction met with no encouragement. The foreign
Governments concerned were indisposed to overlook the constant
obstructions to the fulfilment of Treaty stipulations caused by
indifference and ill-will on the part of Japanese officials. Nor, in
view of the short interval that had elapsed since Japan had emerged from
feudalism, were they in any haste to gratify the aspirations expressed
in the Letter of Credence presented by the head of the mission to the
President of the United States—the first country visited—which spoke of
an “intention to reform and improve the treaties, so that Japan might
stand on an equality with the most enlightened nations.” They
accordingly declined to enter into any discussion on the subject on the
ground that the moment had not arrived when the discussion could be
useful.
The rebuff thus administered caused disappointment and ill-feeling, and
led before long to the beginning of an agitation for Treaty revision,
which did much mischief to foreign relations; was frequently used as a
convenient cry by politicians in the course of attacks directed against
the Government of the day; and lasted until the first of the new revised
treaties was signed by Great Britain in the summer of 1894. Its chief
effect, however, so far as foreigners were concerned, was to strengthen
the Japanese Government in its determination to resist all efforts on
the part of foreign Powers to obtain further access to the interior of
the country, and to restrict in every way possible the granting of any
additional facilities for foreign trade and intercourse under existing
treaties.
Much space has been devoted in previous chapters to the abolition of
feudalism as being the starting-point of Japan’s modern progress. The
immediate effect of that step, as well as the various measures relating
to land tenure and land taxation, which were its natural sequel, have
also been explained in some detail. There is, however, no intention to
trace with the same minuteness, or in strict chronological order, the
successive stages of the work of reform. Our purpose being to give a
general idea of the process which brought about the gradual
transformation of an Oriental country into a progressive modern Empire,
we shall pass lightly over many matters, dwelling mainly on such
conspicuous and outstanding features as will illustrate most clearly the
character and course of Japan’s modern development.
Before touching on other measures of reform undertaken in the first
years following the Restoration, it may be well to glance at the
conditions under which the work of reform proceeded. The initial
difficulty which hampered the reformers at the outset was the absence of
any definite scheme of reconstruction. Beyond the surrender of feudal
fiefs nothing in the nature of a detailed programme had been thought
out. They had to feel their way. As one of the leading figures in the
events of the Restoration said some years later, “They could not look
far ahead; it was sufficient if they could agree on the next step to be
taken.” Another difficulty with which they had to contend was the
question of language. The spread of Christianity in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries had not been accompanied by the introduction, to
any appreciable extent, of any of the languages of the three
nationalities—Portuguese, Spanish and Italian—to which the early
missionaries belonged. The use of Latin in the religious services, and
the study of Japanese by the missionaries, had rendered this
unnecessary. And when Christianity disappeared, what little Portuguese,
or other Latin language, had come with it disappeared too. But with the
advent of the Dutch things were changed. The Dutch language became the
medium of commerce, and also the medium through which all Western
learning, and indeed all knowledge of the West, was received. A class of
Dutch-speaking interpreters, who found employment in foreign trade, grew
up; and with the enterprise, unsubdued by constant official repression,
and the curiosity for what is new, which have always distinguished the
Japanese people, men took to learning Dutch in order to educate
themselves.
So, when foreign relations were renewed on a wider basis in the middle
of the nineteenth century, Dutch was the language to which Japanese and
foreigners naturally turned as the medium for the conduct of the newly
established intercourse. All communications were carried on in this
language, and it became the authentic text of all the earlier treaties,
including those of 1858. Harris, the first American representative in
Japan, in his diary gives us some idea of the trouble and vexation
involved on both sides in wrestling with the language problem. The Dutch
the Japanese had learnt was, he tells us, a mercantile patois, the
correct Dutch spoken by the Dutch interpreters attached to his mission
being quite strange to them. When it came to drawing up written
agreements in both languages, they insisted that every word in the Dutch
version should stand in the same order as its equivalent in the Japanese
version. This, he says, occasioned some difficulty, and we feel that he
is not overstating the case.
The employment of Dutch as the medium of communication in the early days
of renewed foreign intercourse, though inevitable, was unfortunate. And
for this reason. During many years of the Dutch monopoly—so far as
Western nations were concerned—of trade with Japan, Holland was at the
zenith of her power. If not actually mistress of the seas, she occupied
a position of pre-eminence as a maritime state. But by the time the
first treaties with Japan were negotiated Holland had lost this high
position. She was no longer a great Power, and consequently the
knowledge of Dutch possessed by many Japanese ceased to be useful to
Japan. It was necessary for some other language to take its place.
Thanks to the growing commerce and power of Great Britain and the United
States, English was the language which stepped naturally into the
breach, and it became necessary for the Japanese to abandon Dutch, and
turn their attention to the acquisition of the new language which had
superseded it.
So far we have dwelt on the difficulty connected with the languages of
the foreigners who had made their more or less unwelcome appearance on
the scene, and from whom Japan was intent on borrowing the materials of
the contemplated reforms. If we now turn to the other side of the
question, the difficulty arising from the Japanese language itself, it
will be seen how serious an obstacle to Japan’s modern progress her own
language presented.
Until the seventh century of our era Japan had, as we have seen, her own
language. This was spoken, not written. Then by one of those
unaccountable impulses which affect the destinies of nations, she
followed the example of Korea, which had also spoken dialects of her
own, and adopted the written language of China. Later on, from the
Chinese characters thus borrowed, she evolved syllabaries, filling the
place for her of our alphabet for us, and so developed native scripts of
her own. But this native written language never prospered in its
competition with the Chinese characters from which it was derived.
Though it was employed in poetry, and other native classical literature
and served a useful purpose as a literary vehicle for women of the upper
classes, in whose hands it displayed unexpected potentialities, and for
the uneducated masses, it eventually found its most usual place in
literature as a simple adjunct to the use of Chinese.
This incubus of two languages, disguised as one, was rendered still more
irksome by the fact that the borrowed Chinese written language never
became thoroughly assimilated and incorporated with the Japanese spoken
language to which it was joined, but preserved a more or less separate
identity. It would have simplified matters if the Japanese had given up
their spoken language and adopted Chinese in its place. There would then
have been a natural harmony and relation between the spoken and written
tongues, such as exists in China to-day. Japanese would then have
written as they spoke, and spoken as they wrote. But this they did not
do. Their own spoken language was there, and had sufficient vitality to
resent the intrusion of the alien tongue, though not enough to enable
the nation to shake itself free of the incubus it had voluntarily
imposed upon itself by this wholesale importation of Chinese characters.
In these considerations lies the explanation of the constantly recurring
agitation in favour of the adoption of the Roman alphabet in the place
of Chinese.
In justice to Chinese characters it is well not to overlook the
advantage which a knowledge of them gives to the Japanese people over
foreign competitors in their intercourse and trade with China. It should
also be borne in mind that the Chinese side, so to speak, of the
Japanese language lends itself with peculiar facility to the formation
of new words to express new ideas. In this respect it has served to
encourage the introduction of Western civilization. These advantages
are, nevertheless, counterbalanced to a large extent by the addition to
the language of a countless host of dissyllabic words, only to be
distinguished one from the other by the attendant hieroglyphs. The
result is the creation of a cumbrous vocabulary, based on Chinese, which
is growing so fast as to discourage scholarship, thus hampering the very
progress it is employed to promote.
One other difficulty remains to be considered. In turning to the West
for inspiration in the work of reconstruction Japan was borrowing not
from one country, as before, but from several. Nor was there any natural
affinity between her and them, as in the case of the first country,
China, which she had laid under contribution. The new ideas, moreover,
she was assimilating belonged not to the same, but to different periods
of time. There was as great diversity of date, as there was of origin.
But they all came together, and had to be harmonized, in some degree,
with a foundation of things in its origin Chinese. Japan has been
generally regarded as having deliberately embarked on a policy of
eclecticism. No other course lay open to her. Out of the crowd of new
things which presented themselves she had to make a choice. And the
urgency of the moment left her little time in which to make it.
We have noticed some of the difficulties which lay in the path of
Japan’s progress, and tended to complicate the work of reconstruction.
Let us see what advantages she had to help her. There were not many, and
some were moral and not material. The reforming statesmen were helped by
the feeling of exaltation common to all political revolutions, as well
as by the wave of enthusiasm for what was hailed as the restoration of
the direct rule of the Sovereign, though what this would mean, when
accomplished, beyond the disappearance of the Shōgunate, none of its
advocates had any clear notion. The general feeling in favour of reform
which, with exceptions in the case of the former military class, existed
throughout the country was also in their favour. Japan, too, in these
early years was conscious of the sympathy of Treaty Powers. It has been
the fashion amongst a certain class of writers to decry the attitude of
foreign Powers, who are represented as unsympathetic and as having held
out no helping hand to the young Government then on its trial. This is
an erroneous view. Even before the Restoration, at the time when the
Court was openly hostile to foreign intercourse, and the Shōgunate, in
its extremity, was facing both ways—announcing to the Throne its
determination to expel the hated barbarian, while assuring the latter in
the same breath of the friendliness of its feelings; conniving at
obstruction it would have liked to direct more openly and then feigning
indignation at its own misdeeds—the forbearance of foreign Governments,
and the patience of their agents, are things of which the West may well
be proud. And as soon as the sincerity of Japanese reforms was clearly
understood, the sympathy of foreign Governments took a more active
shape.
Perhaps, also, we shall be safe in assuming that the new Government was
assisted to some extent in the introduction of reforms by the
submissiveness of the people they were called upon to rule. Under the
influence of Chinese ideas the dividing line separating rulers from
ruled was very sharply drawn. Both in Confucian ethics, and in Buddhist
teaching, the two foundations of Japanese morality, the greatest weight
is given to the virtue of loyalty to superiors, which comprises—and this
is an essential point—obedience to constituted authorities. Equal
prominence in the same ethics and teaching is assigned to the
corresponding duty of the ruler to govern wisely, or, as the phrase
runs, “with benevolence.” The conception of the relationship between
governors and governed, as it presented itself to the Japanese mind of
those days, was that it was the business, the duty, of the Government to
govern, the privilege, or right, of the subject to be ruled. The latter
looked to those in authority for light and leading. So long as the
government was in accordance with Confucian doctrine, conducted with
“benevolence,” that is to say, without glaring injustice and tyranny, he
was satisfied. The establishment later on of constitutional government
and the practical working of a Diet and local assemblies have somewhat
modified this habit of mind. But even in the most stormy and tumultuous
sessions which have of recent years characterized the development of
parliamentary institutions the influence of this old idea has been
apparent; while in the earlier periods of which we are now speaking it
was a dominant and salutary factor, lightening very materially the task
of the administrator.
There was still another agency working in the same direction. This was
the new field of activity opened by the changes accompanying the
Restoration to the energies of the people, more especially those of the
commercial and industrial classes. Their attention was engrossed in a
large measure by their own concerns, which were rendered of increased
and more varied interest by the upheaval caused by the revolution in
national life. They had thus little time, even had the wish been there,
to enquire closely into the direction of public affairs.
There was advantage, too, in the fact that Japan had borrowed before,
and had, therefore, gained experience in the art of assimilating foreign
ideas. She was not new to the work. She was only doing now on a less
extensive scale what she had done on a previous occasion. And her task
was rendered more simple because what she was now taking from the West
lent itself to her immediate requirements, perhaps, in a more practical
way than her borrowings of former days from a sister nation.
Finally, we must not overlook the immense advantage she had in the
adoption of all reforms which were based on Western models. At no cost
to herself, without expenditure of time, thought, labour or money, she
took the fruit of generations of toil in Europe and America. She levied
toll on all the Western world. Profiting, at once, by the discoveries
and improvements made in the course of centuries in every field of human
energy, she began in her career of constructive progress at the point
which other countries had already reached.
CHAPTER XI
Changes and Reforms—Relations with China and Korea—Rupture in
Ministry—Secession of Tosa and Hizen Leaders—Progress of
Reforms—Annexation of Loochoo—Discontent of Former Military Class.
The changes introduced after the Restoration group themselves broadly
into two kinds—those borrowed from abroad, and those due to the
inspiration of the reformers themselves. The reforms affecting the land,
which we have already considered, fall essentially into the latter
category. Though some colouring of Western ideas may be apparent in the
stress laid on uniformity of tenure and taxation, and in some other
respects, the land reform, viewed as a whole, was the logical outcome of
the abolition of feudalism. It was thus from the first a matter into
which domestic considerations alone entered, one that was free,
therefore, from any marked foreign influences.
Of a different kind, and bearing the manifest impress of importation
from the West, were the introduction of conscription on European—mainly
German—lines; the creation of a postal system, and the opening of a
mint; the construction of the first railways, telegraphs and dockyards;
the suppression of anti-Christian edicts, and the cessation of religious
persecution; the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar; the formation of a
Board for the development of Yezo; the establishment of treaty relations
with China in accordance with Western usages; the creation of the Tōkiō
University; and the removal of the prohibition regarding the use, in
speech or writing, of the Mikado’s name. All these changes occurred in
rapid succession in the short space of five years.
With regard to the change, or reform, last mentioned—the removal of the
interdict regarding the use of the Emperor’s name—to foreigners the
permission seems as strange as the prohibition. It sounds like an echo
from remote ages. But it is difficult to exaggerate the gulf which had
hitherto separated the Throne from the people. Only in an ironical sense
could the phrase “the fierce light that beats upon a throne” have been
applied to a Japanese monarch. Both the throne and its occupant were
veiled in mysterious shadow, and to the respect due to royalty was added
the veneration paid to a God. In the case of the Mikado, his name never
appeared in writing until 1868, when the Message dated the 3rd February
of that year, announcing to foreign Governments his assumption of
“supreme authority,” in consequence of the Shōgun’s voluntary
resignation of “the governing power,” was delivered to the foreign
representatives. This Message bore the signature “Mutsuhito,” which
purported to be the sign-manual of the Sovereign. The change introduced
was, however, of no practical importance, for no one wished to make use
of the permission vouchsafed. It is interesting only from the fact of
its being a significant departure from traditional custom, and also
because it illustrates the spirit in which all reform was conceived.
The establishment in 1871 of a new Board, or minor department, for the
development of the then northernmost island of Yezo, thenceforth to be
known as the _Hokkaidō_, or Northern Sea Circuit—one of the many
geographical areas distinguished by this name into which Japan is
divided—calls for notice chiefly from the fact that it was one of the
few instances of reforms which were unsuccessful. For the enterprise in
question the services of American experts were engaged. The project, on
which in all some £10,000,000 are stated to have been spent, languished
from the outset, though some benefit was ultimately derived from the
horse-breeding industry which was then created; and ten years later the
Board was dissolved. It was in connection with the abandonment of this
undertaking, the direction of which was entrusted to General Kuroda, a
leading Satsuma clansman, that Marquis (then Mr.) Ōkuma left the
Ministry, which he did not rejoin until seven years later.
Various reasons were assigned for this failure, charges of official
corruption being freely made. As to one contributory cause there can be
little doubt—the distaste, or, it may be, the constitutional unfitness,
of the Japanese people for what may be called the pioneer work of
colonization. Those who differ from this view may point to the success
achieved by Japan elsewhere, in Formosa, for instance, which she
received as part of the fruits of her victory over China in the war of
1894–95. The conditions in that case, however, were exceptionally
favourable. The secret of her success there lay in the great natural
riches of the island, due to virtues of climate and soil, in a plentiful
supply of cheap labour, and in the still, industry and organizing talent
which distinguish the Japanese people. Formosa produces nearly the whole
of the world’s supply of camphor, of which Japan has made a State
monopoly. Among other notable products are cane sugar, now also a State
monopoly, tea and rice. The development of these staple products is a
tribute to the thoroughness of Japanese administrative methods. But the
Japanese were never pioneers there; nor did they create the industries
they developed. These owe their inception to the Chinese population,
originally settlers from the mainland, which was disputing the hill
country with the aborigines when the Japanese arrived. Ten years after
the Japanese occupation of the island the Japanese inhabitants,
including many officials, numbered only 40,000, as compared with some
100,000 aborigines, with whom an intermittent warfare is still being
carried on, and about 3,000,000 Chinese. These figures speak for
themselves.
The less favourable conditions of climate and soil under which similar
operations have been conducted in the northernmost Japanese islands have
led to very different results. Of recent years, owing to the
exploitation of coal mines and the general growth of shipping and
commerce, there has been a marked advance in the development of Yezo. As
compared, however, with the great strides made by Japan in other
directions, the record of what has been accomplished there in the half
century which has elapsed since the Restoration is disappointing. Viewed
in conjunction with other facts, it justifies the inference that while
the industry and enterprise of the Japanese people ensure remarkable
results in favourable conditions, where no pioneer work is demanded,—as
in Formosa, Hawaii, and the Pacific coasts of Canada and America—neither
by physique nor by temperament are they fitted to cope under adverse
circumstances with the strenuous toil and severe hardships of pioneer
colonization. And this conclusion is supported by what we know of the
Japanese occupation of Manchurian territory. The point is of importance
as bearing on the question of finding an outlet for the surplus
population of Japan, a subject which is frequently discussed in the
Japanese Press, and which will be referred to again in a later chapter.
If the importance of a subject in public affairs were measured merely by
the amount of attention and labour bestowed upon it, religion would
occupy an inconspicuous place in the list of reforms of the Meiji era.
Only to a limited extent, and then only as identified in a general way
with progressive ideas of Western origin, can the measures taken in
regard to religion be regarded as coming under the head of reforms
borrowed from abroad. Apart from slight changes in the details of
ceremonial observances at religious festivals, adopted later on, and
designed to bring such popular celebrations more into keeping with
Western notions of propriety and decorum, religious reform had from the
first a merely negative character. It did not extend beyond the
withdrawal of the anti-Christian measures that were a survival of the
Christian persecutions of the seventeenth century. It is generally
admitted that the anti-Christian feeling which then arose, and the cruel
penal laws it inspired, were due to political more than to religious
causes. In the toleration extended to Christianity, which found
expression in the withdrawal of anti-Christian edicts, we again see the
operation of political rather than religious motives. Political
expediency, not religious animosity, was thus associated with the
beginning and end of the anti-Christian movement. This is in accordance
with all that we know of the Japanese character. All accounts of Japan,
whether written by Japanese or foreigners, testify to the absence of
anything approaching to religious fanaticism.
As for the other measures affecting religion taken by the new
Government, they were not even progressive in intention, for they were
avowedly a return to what had existed centuries before. They were,
however, in accordance with the principles professed by the Imperialists
at the time of the Restoration; and this was the reason for their
adoption. It will be more convenient to consider these changes under the
head of Religion, which will be treated in subsequent chapters.
On the return of the Iwakura Mission from abroad in 1873 its members
became aware of the serious crisis in domestic affairs which had
occurred in their absence. A difference of opinion had arisen on the
subject of Korea. Since the ultimate failure of the Japanese invasion of
that country, towards the close of the sixteenth century, which was due
to the intervention of China at a moment when Japan had exhausted
herself in the long struggle, the relations between the two countries
had been restricted to the conduct of a trifling trade, and to formal
missions of courtesy sent to announce the accession of a new Sovereign,
or to offer congratulations on the occasion. This trade was carried on
by the Japanese at the port of Pusan, on the southern coast of Korea
opposite the Japanese island of Tsushima. Here there was a small
commercial establishment doing business with the Koreans much in the
same way as the Dutch had previously traded with the Japanese through
their factory at Déshima (Nagasaki). There was a further resemblance
between the former Dutch position in Japan and that of the Japanese in
Korea in the fact that through ill-will, or lack of enterprise on the
part of the Koreans, the trading operations of the Japanese merchants
had become gradually more and more restricted. At the time in question
the attitude of the Koreans towards the residents in the tiny settlement
was the reverse of friendly, and the Japanese authorities had withdrawn
from Pusan all but subordinate officials. According to Japanese
accounts, the Koreans appear to have continued to send periodical
missions of courtesy during the whole period of Tokugawa rule. But when
the Restoration took place they refused to send the customary envoy to
Tōkiō, and also declined to receive the envoy despatched by the new
Japanese Government. Their refusal to have any further intercourse with
Japan was based on the ground that by adopting a new and progressive
policy she had shown herself to be in league with Western barbarians,
thus abandoning the traditions of the Far East to which China and Korea
remained faithful. This affront to Japanese dignity caused great
resentment throughout the country. It came at a moment when there was
already a good deal of friction and smouldering ill-feeling amongst the
leading members of the Government, and the Cabinet, if we may so regard
the inner political group which controlled affairs, became at once
divided into two parties. One of these, led by the elder Saigō,
Soyéshima, Itō Shimpei, Itagaki and Gotō, urged the immediate despatch
of a strong remonstrance. Of this Saigō was anxious to be the bearer, a
course which, as everyone who knew the then temper of the nation, and
the character of the suggested envoy, was aware, must, if followed, lead
to war. The other party, consisting of Chōshiū and other clansmen
centred round the Prime Minister, though little disposed to condone any
deliberate discourtesy on the part of a neighbouring State which had
played so prominent a part in Japanese history, felt that the moment was
inopportune for war. They also probably distrusted—and not without
reason—the motives which actuated the advocates of an aggressive policy.
The matter was referred to Iwakura and his colleagues in the mission.
Their influence turned the scale in favour of a peaceful solution of the
difficulty, with the result that the leaders of the war party resigned
their positions in the Government, their example being followed by many
subordinate office-holders. Saigō and one or two others retired to their
native provinces, the rest remaining in the Capital. This took place in
October, 1873.
The rupture in the Ministry—the first to occur since the formation of
the new Government five years before—had ostensibly arisen over the
Korean question. But in reality there were other issues at stake. This
much is clear from the Memorial presented to the Government in January
of the following year by four of the retiring statesmen, Soyéshima, Itō
Shimpei, Itagaki and Gotō, together with five other officials of lesser
note, whose names do not concern us. Neither in the Memorial itself, nor
in the joint letter in which it was enclosed, is there a word about
Korea. The Memorialists complain in their letter of the delay of the
Government in taking steps for the establishment of representative
institutions. One of the objects of the Iwakura Mission was, it is
pointed out, to gain information for this purpose. Since its return,
however, the promised measures had not been introduced. The continued
withholding from the people of opportunities for public discussion had
created a dangerous situation, calculated to lead to grave trouble in
the country.
It will be seen from this letter that the grievance of the Ministers who
resigned—with the exception of the elder Saigō—related to the question
not of war with Korea, but of the establishment of some form of
representative institutions, as foreshadowed in the Imperial Oath. Their
quarrel with the Government was based on the view that the latter had
broken its promise to take steps in the desired direction.
The Memorial was a repetition of this charge in very prolix form. It
dwelt on the right of the people to a share in the direction of public
affairs, and on the urgency of establishing representative institutions.
The absence of Saigō’s signature both from the letter and Memorial is
not surprising. He had no sympathy with popular reforms of Western
origin. His association in the act of resignation with men whose
political views were so different from his own, and with whom he could
have little in common except dissatisfaction with the conduct of public
affairs, simply indicates the existence of a general spirit of unrest.
The answer of the Government to the memorialists was not unfavourable.
They were told that the principle of an assembly to be chosen by the
people was an excellent one. The question of the establishment of local
assemblies must, however, take precedence, and this matter was already
occupying the Government’s attention.
When discussing in a previous chapter the effects of the abolition of
feudalism it was pointed out what great hardship this measure inflicted
on the military class. That the _ex-samurai_, or _shizoku_, to give them
their new name, should as a class be dissatisfied with the sudden change
in their fortunes was not surprising. It would have been strange if they
had not resented the loss of their many privileges: the superior social
status they enjoyed, their permanent incomes hereditary in the family; a
house and garden free of rent; exemption from all taxation; and the
advantage, appreciated by so poor a class, of being able to travel at
cheaper rates than other people. In the course of the inevitable
reaction which followed on the accomplishment of the common object which
had united the Western clans, and which, it should not be forgotten, was
the work of the military class, there was ample occasion for the
_shizoku_ to realize all that they had lost by the disappearance of
feudalism. The haste, too, with which the new Government had embarked in
their course of reform, copied from abroad, gave umbrage to the
conservatives in that class who still outnumbered those who were in
favour of progress. Nor was the engagement of foreigners, whose services
were indispensable in the execution of these reforms, less unwelcome.
The foreign experts needed were drawn from various countries. The
assistance of France was invoked for the army, and for legal reforms;
that of Germany for the army and for medical science; that of Great
Britain for the navy, for railway construction, telegraphs and
lighthouses, as well as for technical instruction in engineering;
Americans were called in to help in the matter of education and in
agriculture; while experts from Italy and Holland acted as advisers on
questions concerning silk culture and embankments.
Speaking of the craze for imitating the West which prevailed at this
period, the _History of Japan_, compiled under official direction for
the Chicago Exposition of 1893, says: “During the early years of the
Meiji era any knowledge, however slight, of Western science was regarded
as a qualification for official employment. Students who had shown
themselves intelligent were sent to Europe and America to inspect and
report on the conditions existing there, and, as each of these
travellers found something new to endorse and import, the mania for
Occidental innovations constantly increased. To preserve or revere old
customs and fashions was regarded with contempt, and so far did the
fancy run that some gravely entertained the project of abolishing the
Japanese language, and substituting English for it.”
Captain Brinkley, a friendly critic, in his _History of Japan_ confirms
this statement. “In short,” he says, “the Japanese undertook in the most
lighthearted manner possible to dress themselves in clothes such as they
had never worn before, and which had been made to fit other people. The
spectacle looked strange enough to justify the apprehensions of foreign
critics who asked whether it was possible that so many novelties should
be successfully assimilated, or that a nation should adapt itself to
systems planned by a motley band of aliens who knew nothing of its
characters or customs.”
Nevertheless, in many respects the inner life of the people remained
unaffected by the Western innovations so eagerly adopted. The nation was
not called upon to make such sweeping sacrifices as appearances
suggested. But the dissatisfied conservative of the former military
class who watched the rapid progress of reform in the hands of
enthusiastic reformers was not likely to make any fine discriminations;
nor was it surprising if the zeal he witnessed, and perhaps also the
employment of unwelcome foreigners at what to him seemed extravagant
salaries, served to increase his dissatisfaction with the new order of
things.
In January, 1874, a few days after the presentation of the Memorial
above mentioned, the smouldering discontent burst into flame. Itō
Shimpei, one of the memorialists, who had retired to Saga, the chief
town in his native province of Hizen, collected there a considerable
body of disaffected _shizoku_ and made a successful raid on the
prefectural offices. The Government quickly despatched troops against
the rebels. Driven out of the town, they fled to Satsuma, hoping to
receive assistance from Saigō. No aid, however, was forthcoming from
this quarter, and Itō and the other insurgent leaders were arrested and
executed.
The Hizen insurrection, and the existence of much discontent throughout
the country, which showed itself, among other incidents, in the
attempted assassination of Iwakura, suggested the advisability of
finding some outlet for the mischievous energies of the disbanded
_samurai_, and of diverting their attention from home politics. At this
moment there arose an unlooked-for difficulty in connection with
Loochoo, which furnished the desired opportunity.
Loochoo will be remembered as the place which Perry made his base of
operations before negotiating the Treaty of 1853. The principality—for
in those days there was a prince to whom his own subjects, the Chinese,
and even the Japanese, gave the title of King—consisted of the large
island of Okinawa and nine outlying groups which are situated some two
hundred miles south of Japan, according to the latter’s geographical
limits at that time. By a curious “Box and Cox” sort of arrangement,
which lent itself to the relations then existing between Loochoo and her
more powerful neighbours, and seems to have had the tacit sanction of
each suzerain, the principality regarded itself as a dependency of both
China and Japan, paying tribute to each as its “parents,” in the
phraseology of the day. The payment of tribute to China dated from the
fourteenth century; that to Japan from the beginning of the seventeenth,
when the islands were conquered by the Satsuma clan. In the winter of
1872–3 some Loochooans who were shipwrecked on the coast of Formosa
(then a part of China) had met with ill-treatment at the hands of
savages in that island. When news of the outrage reached Japan, which
was not for some months, the Japanese Government made representations at
Peking. As the Chinese authorities refused to accept responsibility for
the acts of the savages, an expedition was fitted out in Japan in May,
1894, with the object of exacting reparation from the offending tribe.
General Saigō Tsugumichi, the younger brother of the ex-Councillor of
State, from whom he was distinguished by his progressive views, was
placed in command of the Japanese forces, which consisted of some three
thousand men. China retaliated by sending troops of her own to Formosa,
and for a time there was every prospect of a collision. The difficulty
was eventually settled through the intervention of the British Minister
at Peking. The Chinese Government agreed to pay an indemnity, and the
expedition returned to Japan after an absence of six months.
The dispute with China over Loochoo was thus settled for the time being,
but a few years later, in 1879, when Japan formally annexed the islands
and the King was removed to Tōkiō, the Chinese Government impugned her
action on the ground that Loochoo was a tributary state owing allegiance
to China. The incident became the subject of lengthy discussion between
Peking and Tōkiō, in the course of which the advice of General Grant,
ex-President of the United States, who was then visiting Japan, is said
to have been sought by Japanese Ministers; but in the end the matter was
allowed to drop without any definite understanding being arrived at.
The difficulty with Korea, which had been the ostensible cause of the
first rupture in the new Government, was also settled by a show of force
without recourse to actual hostilities. In the summer of 1875 a Japanese
surveying vessel was fired at whilst surveying the river leading to the
Korean capital. General (later Count) Kuroda and Mr. (afterwards
Marquis) Inouyé, who was a native of Chōshiū, were sent with ships of
war to demand satisfaction. The Korean Government offered apologies, and
the envoys concluded a Treaty which opened two Korean ports to Japanese
trade.
An incident in Japan’s foreign relations occurring about this time,
which calls for passing notice, is the arrangement made with Russia in
regard to Saghalien. In the Treaty of 1858 between Russia and Japan the
island was declared to be a joint possession of the two Powers. The
Tokugawa Government subsequently proposed the 50th parallel of north
latitude as the boundary between the two countries, but no final
decision was arrived at. After the Restoration the Japanese Government
reopened negotiations on the subject through the medium of the United
States, proposing the same boundary. The Russian Government, however,
would not accept this solution of the difficulty. Eventually the two
Powers concluded an agreement at the Russian capital by which Russia
gave the Kurile islands, to which her claim was doubtful, to Japan in
exchange for Saghalien.
Neither the Formosan expedition, nor the resolute measures taken in
regard to Korea, had any salutary effect upon the general discontent
amongst the _shizoku_, the pacific settlement of both matters having
frustrated any hopes which might have been formed of military employment
in a foreign campaign. The settlement of the Korean question was
denounced as a weak surrender, and the Ministry were condemned for
making a Treaty on a footing of equality with a country which
acknowledged the suzerainty of China, thus compromising the dignity of
Japan. Nor, in spite of the appointment of prominent Satsuma men to the
chief command of each expedition, and the inclusion of the Satsuma noble
Shimadzu in the Government in the high position of _Sadaijin_, or second
Minister of State, was there any improvement in the attitude of the
clan.
In the course of 1876 there were two other risings, both promptly
suppressed, in Chōshiū and Higo, and by this time the state of affairs
in Satsuma caused great anxiety to the Government. The tone of
semi-independence assumed, as has already been pointed out, by that clan
during the Tokugawa rule was maintained after the Restoration. In other
provinces the work of administrative unification had progressed quickly
and smoothly, local officials being now frequently chosen from other
parts of the country. But in Satsuma there was a refusal to accept any
official who was not a native of the province. Some comfort there might
be for the Government in the fact that the clan had abstained from
making common cause with the rebellious clansmen in other provinces, and
that the relations between the two chief leaders, Shimadzu and the elder
Saigō, continued to be strained. But these considerations were
outweighed by others.
Of all the measures introduced, or contemplated, by the new Government,
those to which the strongest objection was felt by the _shizoku_
everywhere were the establishment of conscription, the compulsory
commutation of pensions, and the prohibition of the practice of wearing
swords. The last of these measures came into force in January, 1877.
That conscription should be viewed with disfavour by the former military
class was only natural, if only for the reason that its adoption by
opening a military career to all classes of the nation offended ancient
prejudices, besides being a death-blow to any hope entertained by
reactionary clansmen of reviving feudalism. The commutation of pensions
had, as we have seen, been arranged in 1871, when feudalism was
abolished. But the system then introduced was voluntary. Now it was made
compulsory. Occurring when it did, it provoked resentment. The wearing
of swords had also at the same date been made optional. The prohibition
now enforced mattered little to the _shizoku_ of the towns, many of whom
had welcomed the opportunity of relinquishing a custom not without
inconvenience to town-dwellers, and offering no longer any advantage.
But to those in the provinces, with whose traditions and habits the
wearing of swords was intimately associated, the change was most
distasteful. It was, moreover, precisely in Satsuma and one or two
neighbouring clans that the option of not wearing swords had been
availed of least. To the Satsuma malcontents, whose military
preparations included sword exercise, it might well appear that the
prohibition was aimed specially at them.
CHAPTER XII
Local Risings—Satsuma Rebellion—Two-Clan Government.
When mentioning in a previous chapter the occurrence of dissensions in
the Ministry soon after the Restoration, attention was drawn to a point
of some importance—the division of feeling which existed in several of
the clans. This was most conspicuous in Satsuma, Chōshiū and Mito. Even
before the Restoration the contentions of rival parties had led in
Chōshiū to grave disorders, which had weakened that clan in its conflict
with the Tokugawa Government; while in Mito the struggle of opposing
factions, supporting, respectively, the Shōgunate, and the Court party
represented by the old Prince of Mito, had resulted in prolonged and
fierce fighting. Though in Satsuma the rivalry of individual leaders had
stopped short of open hostilities, the division of feeling was not less
marked. There, as has been pointed out, the situation was complicated by
the existence of no less than three parties—two conservative groups led,
respectively, by the old noble Shimadzu, the father of the young
ex-daimiō, and by the elder Saigō, the latter being at once the most
influential and most numerous; and a third—the party of reform—which
looked for guidance, amongst other prominent men, to Ōkubo, Kuroda,
Matsugata, Kawamura and the younger Saigō. After the Restoration the
condition of things became less unsettled in Mito, and to some extent
also in Chōshiū. But in Satsuma the division of feeling remained
unaltered, a circumstance which, added to separatist tendencies that
stood in the way of combined action, was, in the sequel, of much benefit
to the Government.
We have touched on the general and special causes which brought about,
first a rupture in the Ministry, then the earlier risings in Hizen,
Chōshiū and Higo, and lastly the Satsuma rebellion. One other reason,
not yet mentioned, was personal and clan jealousies and ambitions. What
the disaffected clans and individuals wanted was a larger share of
power. All, perhaps, over-estimated their share in the accomplishment of
the Restoration. They had, they considered, paid the piper, and they
wished to call the tune.
Ever since his retirement from office, and his withdrawal to his native
province in 1873, the elder Saigō had remained in Kagoshima, the chief
town of Satsuma. Here he had established an institution which, in order
to disguise its object, was called a “private school.” In reality it was
a military college. In its central quarters in that town, and in
branches elsewhere, the youth of the clan received a military training.
In the autumn of 1875 it was already in a flourishing condition, and in
the course of the following year there were in Kagoshima alone some
seven thousand pupils, or associates. By this time much uneasiness
prevailed. Public apprehension found free expression in the Press, which
said that the nation was divided into two parties, one being for the
Government, the other for Satsuma, and asked what could be done to
preserve peace.
The coming into force in January, 1877, of the edict, issued in the
previous year, prohibiting the wearing of swords, was followed by
Shimadzu’s resignation of the high office he held in the Ministry. In
disgust at this latest move of a Government with which he had never from
the first been in sympathy, he left Tōkiō. Not being allowed to travel
by sea, he went back to Satsuma by land, following the historic route he
and other nobles had so often taken before. The members of his retinue
carried in cotton bags the swords they were no longer allowed to wear;
and when, at the end of his journey, the gates of the _yashiki_ at
Kagoshima closed upon his palanquin, he may have realized that he had
passed for ever out of the political life in which he had at one time
played so conspicuous a rôle. In the hostilities which followed he took
no part, being content to show his disapproval of the new _régime_ by
withdrawing into a retirement from which he never again emerged.
Early in 1877 the rebellion broke out. Some excitement had been caused
in Satsuma by the rumour of a plot to murder Saigō, and the Government
thought it prudent to endeavour to remove a part at least of the stores
in the Kagoshima arsenal. The execution of this plan was prevented by
cadets of the “private school,” and an officer sent from Tōkiō in the
middle of January to arrange matters met with a hostile reception, and
was obliged to return without landing. War was now certain. A few days
later Saigō took the field, and, marching north rapidly, besieged the
castle of Kumamoto, the chief town of the province of Higo. This step is
generally held to have been fatal to his success. His proper course, it
is thought, would have been to have crossed over at once to the main
island and move straight on Tōkiō, trusting to the magic of his name to
secure fresh adherents on his way. The rebels had some advantages on
their side. Their preparations had been made; their leader was a popular
hero; and the reputation of the clan for fighting qualities was
unrivalled. So universal was the respect inspired by Satsuma swordsmen
in those days that mothers in districts further north would quiet
fractious infants by warnings of the coming of the dreaded Satsuma men,
just as women in Europe in the last century made use, for the same
purpose, of Bonaparte’s name. It was doubtful, moreover, what reliance
could be placed on the mixed force sent by the Government to encounter
the rebels. But in all other respects the Government was far better
equipped for the struggle than its opponents. It had large military
supplies, accumulated in anticipation of what was coming, besides money
and credit. It had the exclusive use of railways and telegraphs, a small
fleet, shipping facilities, and the command of the sea. The Crown, too,
was on its side, an important point, as we have seen, in Japanese
warfare; and it had the further and somewhat singular advantage of being
assisted by the co-operation in army, navy, and civil administration of
the picked men, intellectually speaking, of the rebel clan, who had
thrown in their lot with the Government, and knew the Satsuma resources
better, possibly, than the rebels themselves. One other factor in the
struggle remains to be noted—the numerous recruits who flocked to the
Imperial standard from districts which had formerly supported the
Tokugawa cause. Amongst these Aidzu clansmen were conspicuous. Filled
with hatred of their late foes in the Civil War of 1868–9, and eager to
take revenge for the disaster which had then overtaken them, they fought
with a dogged courage and tenacity, and, as swordsmen, in the close
hand-to-hand fighting which was a feature of the war, they more than
held their own against their redoubtable antagonists.
The investment of Kumamoto by the rebels gave time for the Imperial
forces to concentrate, and the relief of that place in the early summer
was the turning-point of the struggle. It closed in September of the
same year with the death of Saigō in Kagoshima, to which place he had
doubled back with a few followers through the Imperial lines. He died in
true _samurai_ fashion. Driven by shellfire from a hill fort in the
Satsuma capital, he was retiring to another part of the town, when a
bullet struck him in the thigh, inflicting a dangerous wound. He fell,
calling on a friend at his side to cut off his head, so as to avoid the
disgrace which, according to the military code of the day, would be
incurred were it to come into the hands of the enemy. His friend did as
he was asked, and made his escape with the head.
The war was a heavy drain on the Government exchequer. An official
estimate of its cost, made in 1893, placed it as high as £82,000,000, an
estimate which seems excessive. But the benefits resulting from the
dangerous crisis through which the nation had safely passed far
outweighed the sacrifice in lives and treasure. Nor is it easy to see
how they could have been gained in any other way. The suppression of the
rebellion was more than a mere victory for the Government. It meant the
triumph of a progressive policy over the mediævalism of old Japan. The
reactionary and disturbing elements in the country had been taught that
the new order of things must be accepted. The new conscript army had
dispelled all doubts of its efficiency and had demonstrated, to the
surprise of everybody, that the fighting spirit was not the inheritance
solely of the former military class, but that an army recruited from all
classes of the people was an institution on which the State could safely
depend. Moreover, the administrative organization having successfully
passed the severest test to which it could have been put, the Government
felt that it had acquired the confidence of the nation, and also of
foreign Powers, to a degree unknown before. One result, therefore, of
the rebellion was that the Government emerged from the struggle stronger
and more compact than before. To this must be added another even more
striking: the fact that the Satsuma influence in the Government remained
unimpaired in spite of recent events. This may be explained partly by
the circumstance, already noted, that the party in the rebel clan in
favour of progress had never wavered in its allegiance to the
Government, and, perhaps also, partly by the generosity shown to the
vanquished by the victors. The liberal policy, quite opposed to the
traditions and the spirit of that day, adopted by the Imperialists at
the close of the war of the Restoration was again followed after the
Satsuma rebellion. No stigma, when hostilities had ceased, attached to
the men who had fought for the clan. The temple dedicated shortly
afterwards to those who had fallen in the conflict was erected to the
common memory of all, both loyalists and rebels. From that moment,
too—though the tendency in this direction had shown itself earlier—the
administration, instead of being, as after the Restoration, a government
of the four leading clans, became frankly a government of the two clans
of Satsuma and Chōshiū, a character it retains to-day.
The leading fact which emerges from the foregoing account of events is
the grave difficulties with which the Government established after the
Restoration had to contend. One sees the contest going on between old
and new Japan, and the conflict of views which divided the men who
carried out the revolution; one notices how tenaciously, in spite of
edicts and regulations, old feudal instincts survived; and one realizes
what courage and skill were needed to enable the Ministry of reformers
to steer a middle course between those who wished to put back the hands
of the clock and those who wanted the rate of progress to be still
faster.
During the period of civil commotion, which ended with the suppression
of the Satsuma rebellion, the work of reconstruction did not stand still
altogether. To this period belong the birth of the Press and the
formation of the _Mitsu Bishi_, the earliest Japanese steamship company;
the first assembly of provincial governors, which, after the suppression
of the Satsuma rebellion, became a yearly feature of administrative
procedure; the issue of regulations which were the first step in the
revision of local administration in towns and villages; and the creation
of a High Court of Justice (_Daishinin_) and a Legislative Chamber, or
Senate (_Genrō-in_), composed of officials, that continued in existence
until 1890. The Imperial message delivered at the opening of the first
session announced the desire to establish representative government
gradually, and described the creation of the Senate as a first step in
this direction. In some respects the functions of this Chamber were more
those of an Advisory Council than a Senate of the character found in
Western Constitutions. It had no power to initiate legislation, nor to
give it final effect. But it filled a useful place as a provisional
institution in the machinery of administration. It facilitated the work
of government by drafting new laws, and by discussing and suggesting
alterations in any measures submitted for its consideration. In the
domain of foreign affairs, too, by the establishment of treaty relations
with Korea, and the conclusion of an agreement with Russia regarding
Saghalien and the Kurile islands, to which reference has already been
made, controversies of a troublesome nature were definitely settled.
With the restoration of order the work of reconstruction proceeded more
rapidly. A Stock Exchange and a Chamber of Commerce were formed in the
Capital, where also the first National Industrial Exhibition was held; a
bimetallic system of currency was introduced; while the complications
attending the double allegiance of Loochoo were put an end to by the
annexation, already recorded, of that island. A further step was also
taken in the direction of appeasing popular clamour for representative
government by the promise made in 1878 of introducing prefectural
assemblies at an early date.
It will be remembered that in its answer to the Memorials of impatient
reformers in 1873, when the first rupture in the Ministry took place,
the Government had explained that the introduction of prefectural
assemblies must necessarily precede the creation of a National
Parliament. Its attitude at that time in regard to the demands of the
advanced section of reformers, who were agitating for the establishment
forthwith of representative institutions, was clearly expressed in an
inspired article which appeared in a Tōkiō newspaper. In this it was
pointed out that outside of the official class there was very little
knowledge of public affairs, that the immediate need of the country was
education, and that the Government could work to better purpose by
increasing educational facilities through the establishment of schools
than by the hasty creation of a Representative Assembly. The definite
promise now made after the lapse of five years was in accordance with
the view then expressed as to the necessity of giving precedence to
local assemblies, and was fulfilled two years later.
It seems desirable to explain more fully how the Government directed by
the four clans which effected the Restoration became a Government of
only two of these. When referring to the concentration of administrative
authority, after the suppression of the Satsuma rebellion, in the hands
of the two clans of Satsuma and Chōshiū, mention was made of an earlier
tendency in that direction. This was in 1873, when dissensions in the
Ministry first occurred. The opposition then encountered by the
Government came from two opposite quarters—from reactionaries on the one
hand, and, on the other, from the section of advanced reformers. In each
case the jealousies and ambitions of clans and individuals played, as we
have seen, a certain part. But whereas the aim of the reactionaries
barred the door to compromise, since they were opposed to Western
innovations of any kind, all that distinguished the views of the more
eager reformers from those of the Government was the question of
expediency—in other words, the rate at which progress on modern lines,
equally the object of both, should proceed. The reactionaries relied on
force to gain their ends. They were met by force, and were crushed.
After the failure of local risings, and of the more formidable Satsuma
rebellion, it became clear that the Government was not to be deterred
from pursuing its policy of gradual reform by the open menace of armed
forces. Thenceforth, beyond the isolated attacks of fanatical assassins,
to one of which Ōkubo, one of the strongest of the new Ministers, fell a
victim in the spring of 1878, the Government had nothing to fear from
the reactionary elements in the country. There remained the weapon of
political agitation, open to all who disagreed with the Government. To
this the advanced reformers resorted.
The charge they brought against the Government of failing to fulfil the
promise regarding the creation of representative assemblies made in the
Imperial Oath was not wholly unfounded. There was, as we have seen, no
obscurity in the wording of the Imperial Oath in this respect. For a
document drawn up in a language which lacks the precision of European
tongues, the Imperial announcement was singularly clear. It has been
stated by more than one writer on Japan, who has dealt with this
question, that the Imperial Oath did not mean what it said, and that it
is a mistake to suppose that the establishment of representative
institutions was seriously contemplated at that time. There is no
reason, it is true, to credit the men to whose hands the shaping of the
new Government was committed with anything but crude ideas of what the
Imperial announcement was intended to convey; for the Oath was not a
declaration of rights, but simply a statement of intentions, of the
principles on which the new Government was to be conducted. Nor is it
likely that at a time when the feudal system was in operation any
clear-cut notions of popular rights, as they came afterwards to be
conceived, could have existed. Without doubt, too, those responsible for
the language of the Imperial Oath purposed to impose class restrictions
on the deliberative rights to be granted. This much is clear from the
character given to the deliberative element in the new administration.
What, however, is equally certain is that in a general, though vague,
way there was a hope widely entertained, and supported by the terms of
the Imperial Oath, of broadening, and, in a sense, popularizing the
basis of administration; and that the fact of representative government
and public discussion being important features of administration in
certain Western countries was well known to many leading Japanese, who
understood them to be typical of advanced conditions of progress, and
desired the early establishment of similar conditions in Japan.
From this point of view the action of the advanced reformers was not
without some justification. The Government, on the other hand, in
deciding to move cautiously in the matter of establishing representative
institutions was probably guided by the conviction that the promise in
the Imperial Oath made, as it was, in the first flush of revolutionary
enthusiasm, should not, in the interests of the country, be construed
too literally; and in the light of subsequent events the correctness of
its decision was abundantly proved.
The views on the subject of representative government held by advanced
reformers, amongst whom Tosa clansmen predominated, had, as we have
seen, received substantial recognition from those in authority. A
deliberative element had been introduced into the new administration
formed after the Restoration; and the principle, thus recognized, had
been retained throughout all subsequent administrative changes. After
the rupture in the Ministry, which took place in 1873, the Government
had again showed itself anxious to meet the wishes of the advanced
reformers, who had, meanwhile, formed in the Capital the first political
association in Japan, to which the name of “Association of Patriots”
(_Aikoku-tō_) was given. About the same time the chief Tosa leader,
Itagaki, had formed in his native province the first local political
society called the _Risshi-sha_ or “Association of men with a definite
purpose.” In the chapter on “Political Parties” in _Fifty Years of New
Japan_ this society is described as a political school similar to the
Cadet College established by the elder Saigō before the Satsuma
rebellion. Early in 1875 overtures for a reconciliation had been made by
the Ministry, and at a Conference in Ōsaka, attended by Itagaki, and by
Kido who had resigned from office on another question in the previous
year, an understanding was arrived at, both Itagaki and Kido rejoining
the Government. So far as the former was concerned, one of the
conditions of reconciliation was the creation of the Senate
(_Genrō-in_), to which reference has already been made.
The reconciliation effected with the Tosa party was of short duration.
At the assembly of prefects, already noted, which was held a few weeks
later, the question of representative government was discussed. The
opinion of the prefects was in favour of the Government’s previous
decision, announced in its answer to the memorialists in 1873, that the
establishment of prefectural assemblies must precede the creation of a
National Parliament. The prefects’ endorsement of the attitude already
adopted by the Government on this point, and the latter’s final decision
not only to withhold from the Senate the elective character desired by
the advanced reformers, but to restrict membership to officials only,
caused much dissatisfaction in the Tosa party, and in March, 1876,
Itagaki again severed his connection with the Government, to which he
did not return until several years after parliamentary government had
been established. Ever since the first rupture in the Ministry there had
been much sympathy between the Tosa party and those Hizen clansmen who
entertained similar advanced views on reform. Itagaki’s final withdrawal
from the Government led to the establishment of still closer relations.
From this moment dates the formation of a regular opposition party of
advanced Radicals, and the commencement of a vigorous political
agitation in favour of popular reforms, which continued, with intervals
of quiescence, for many years.
As the estrangement of Tosa and Hizen clansmen from the Government grew
more pronounced in the course of this agitation, the relations between
the other two more conservative, and at the same time more warlike,
clans, which supplied the military strength essential to the
administration, became naturally closer. After the suppression of the
Satsuma rebellion—which, as we have seen, in no way impaired Satsuma
influence in the Ministry—a more definite understanding in regard to
general policy was gradually evolved, with the result, already noted,
that the direction of affairs passed into the hands of Satsuma and
Chōshiū, where it still remains.
CHAPTER XIII
Japanese Religions before Restoration: Shintō and Buddhism.
In the previous chapter the outbreak and suppression of the Satsuma
rebellion were recorded. An outline was also given of the course of
events by which the administration assumed a new character, the
direction of affairs passing into the hands of the Satsuma and Chōshiū
clans. The point now reached, when the new Government is seen at length
firmly seated in the saddle, seems to furnish a suitable opportunity for
dealing with the subject of religion. Though not in all respects very
closely connected with the development of Japan on modern lines, it was,
as we have seen, indirectly associated with the work of reconstruction
and reform; and this association continues, being noticeable from time
to time in various ceremonial changes and other innovations.
In the moulding of Japanese life and character four religions have
played a part, Shintō, Buddhism, Confucianism and Taoism. To these a
fifth, Christianity in different forms, has in recent times been added.
There is nothing peculiar in this, for other countries have more than
one religion. But in Japan the existence side by side of religions quite
separate in character has had curious results. Not only have the four
earliest of these different religions influenced each other in a marked
degree, this interaction resulting in one case in a fusion of two faiths
which might almost be classified as a fresh religion, or sect, but the
singular habit of professing two religions at the same time has been
evolved—a circumstance without parallel elsewhere. Every Japanese house,
no matter whether the occupant is an adherent of the Shintō, or
Buddhist, faith, has both Shintō and Buddhist altars, at which daily
offerings are made. To the persons concerned this dual worship conveys
no sense of incongruity, nor, strangely enough, is it regarded as
incompatible with acknowledged adherence to one of the two faiths. When
questioned as to the religion they profess, they will reply that it is
Shintō, or Buddhism, as the case may be. And there the matter is left.
Referring to this point the _Japan Year Book_ for 1915 admits that most
Japanese are dualist in the matter of religion. “A new-born child,” it
says, “is taken to a Shintō”—[the words “or Buddhist” should here have
been added]—“temple to invoke the help of the guardian deity for its
prosperity or success in life. When it dies, it is taken to a Buddhist
temple for burial.”
The foregoing facts seem to confirm the statement made by the author of
_Fifty Years of New Japan_ as to the freedom of the Japanese people from
sectarian prejudice. “Whereas in China,” Marquis Ōkuma says, “the
co-existence of Taoism, Confucianism and Buddhism resulted in a war of
creeds which weakened that empire, and was the cause of its present
condition, the presence side by side of four different beliefs in Japan”
[not counting Christianity] “gave rise to no sectarian strife whatever.”
Marquis Ōkuma’s assertion applies, indeed, with more accuracy to present
than to past times. He appears to overlook more than one instance in
Japanese history where excess of religious zeal has caused not only
sectarian strife, but popular commotion, which has led in its turn to
interference on the part of the authorities. There can be little doubt,
however, that the matter of religion has, on the whole, never been taken
so seriously by the Japanese as by other peoples. It is equally clear
that the authorities in their attitude towards religion have invariably
been guided by political expediency, rather than by religious motives.
How far political considerations have affected religious development in
Japan will be seen later on in the course of the next chapter, when it
will also be more convenient to deal with the latest of Japanese
religions, Christianity, as being specially identified with the nation’s
modern progress. Let us first dwell briefly on the distinctive features
of the religions themselves, as they existed before the reopening of
Japan to foreign intercourse, beginning with Shintō the native faith.
Originally a form of nature-worship, Shintō at an early date came to
include ancestor-worship. This was due to the influence of Buddhism and
Confucianism. The cult of natural deities known by the general
designation of _kami_—a word of many meanings—was thus extended so as to
include deified heroes, deceased sovereigns, and, finally, abdicated and
reigning Mikados, as being of divine descent. Shintō ritual, as handed
down from ancient times, is limited to formulas of prayer to natural
deities; its ceremonial is concerned solely with purification for
wrong-doing, or for defilement by contact, real or imaginary, with the
dead. It had no authorized funeral rites, nor were there any Shintō
cemeteries. It has no sacred books, no dogmas, no moral code. All these
it was left to other religions, chiefly Buddhism, to supply.
Notwithstanding the absence of these features, common to most religions,
the author of a work on Buddhism, _The Creed of Half Japan_ (the Rev.
Arthur Lloyd), speaks of it as having “a slight flavour of philosophy, a
vague but deepseated religiosity,” and as making “a strong appeal to
Japanese pride.” The correctness of this last statement no one will be
inclined to dispute, for to the influence of Shintō ideas regarding the
semi-divinity of Japanese monarchs the unbroken character of the dynasty
is largely due.
A peculiar feature of the Japanese native religion, namely, its
connection with the worship of animals, is described by Mr. Aston in his
“Shintō”:—
“Animals,” he says, “may be worshipped for their own sakes, as
wonderful, terrible, or uncanny beings. The tiger, the serpent, and the
wolf are for this reason called _kami_. But there are no shrines in
their honour, and they have no regular cult. A more common reason for
honouring animals is their association with some deity as his servants,
or messengers. Thus the deer is sacred at” [the shrine of] “Kasuga, the
monkey at” [that of] “Hiyoshi, the pigeon to the god (of war), the white
egret at the shrine of Kébi no Miya, the tortoise at Matsunöo, and the
crow at Kumano.... The pheasant is the messenger of the Gods generally.
The best known case of the worship of an associated animal is that of
Inari, the rice-god, whose attendant foxes are mistaken by the ignorant”
[namely, the uneducated masses] “for the god himself, and whose effigies
have offerings made to them.” The “Korean dogs,” he adds, seen in front
of many Shintō shrines, are meant not as gods but as guardians, like the
great figures on each side of the entrance to Buddhist temples.
Japanese writers fix the date of the introduction of Buddhism into Japan
at about the middle of the sixth century. The Buddhism then introduced
was that of the so-called Northern School, the doctrines of which are
based on what is known as the “Mahayana Vehicle.” One of its earliest
adherents was the Imperial Prince Shōtoku Taishi, who, though he never
occupied the throne, virtually ruled the country for many years as
deputy, or Vice-Regent, for his aunt the Empress Suiko. He it was who
carried out the “Great Reform,” which revolutionized Japanese
administration in imitation of Chinese models. He also did much to
propagate Buddhism, which at that time was unsectarian. It was not till
after his death in A.D. 620 that the first sects came into existence. By
the end of the eighth century there were eight sects, of which two only,
the Tendai and Shingon, now survive. The chief sects, in addition to
these two, are the _Zen_, _Jōdo_, _Shin_ and _Nichiren_, all of which
were founded during the rule of the Hōjō Regents in the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries. Into the question of the tenets which distinguish
these different sects, one from another, it is unnecessary to enter. It
will be sufficient to indicate the main characteristics of the three,
the _Zen_, _Shin_ and _Nichiren_ sects, which have by far the most
numerous adherents.
The _Zen_ sect, the earliest of the three, which has six sub-sects, was
established in the first years of the thirteenth century, its founder
being the Buddhist priest Eisai Zenshi. It has, Mr. Lloyd tells us,
always been more or less influenced by Confucianism, and is opposed to
what its followers regard as the anthropomorphic tendencies of other
sects. It recognizes a supreme being, but refuses to personify him,
holding that personification of this kind is but a pious device to adapt
the truth to the weakness of human intellect. Apart from actual
doctrine, the main feature of the _Zen_ sect is the practice of silent
meditation for the purpose of acquiring by introspective contemplation a
detached and philosophic habit of mind. Before the abolition of
feudalism it was the favourite sect of the military class, and to this
day it includes more naval and military men among its adherents than
other sects, while its influence on _Bushidō_ has been very marked.
The _Shin_ sect, which has also six sub-sects, was founded by the priest
Shinran Shōnin. The position which it holds in regard to other Buddhist
sects is in some respects similar to that of Protestantism in regard to
Roman Catholicism. Its followers eat meat, and the clergy are free to
marry. The chief point in its doctrine is salvation by faith through the
mercy of Buddha, and, in Mr. Lloyd’s opinion, the whole system of the
founder “savours strongly of Nestorianism,” which was propagated in
China as far back as the seventh century.
There remains to be noticed the _Nichiren_ sect. This, the most active
and indeed aggressive, and, it may be added, the noisiest in the conduct
of religious festivals, of all Buddhist sects, was established by the
priest Nichiren. His object, as we learn from the author previously
quoted, was to purge Japanese Buddhism from the errors which, in his
view, had crept into it, and restore the primitive character imparted to
the Buddhist faith by its Indian founder. The ardour with which he
pursued his object led him to trench on political matters, and brought
him into collision with the authorities. He was a fierce opponent of the
_Zen_ sect, and its Confucian tendencies, describing it as “a doctrine
of demons and fiends.”
Owing to the circumstances attending its introduction the traces of
Chinese influence in Japanese Buddhism are naturally very marked. This
influence was increased by the frequent visits paid by Japanese monks to
China, where they came into direct contact with Chinese religious
thought. Nevertheless, the fact that the three sects most prominent
to-day owe their origin and development to Japanese priests is evidence
of a certain tendency towards national independence in religious
matters. Buddhism, it may be added, has more adherents in Japan than
Shintō, though the difference in numbers is not great.
The fusion of Shintō and Buddhism under the name of _Riōbu Shintō_,
which, according to the best authorities, took place in the ninth
century, is generally regarded as the work of the _Shingon_ sect of
Buddhists, though the _Tendai_ sect appears to have been associated in
the movement. By this fusion, which seems to have been copied from
earlier attempts in China to amalgamate Buddhism and Confucianism, the
Shintō _Kami_, or deities, were—by a pious fraud known to Japanese
Buddhists by the term _hōben_—received into the Buddhist pantheon as
avatars of ancient Buddhas. Its Buddhist character is sufficiently
indicated by the qualifying prefix in its name of _Riōbu_, which means
“two parts,” namely, the two mystical worlds that figure in the doctrine
of the _Shingon_ sect; its Shintō connection is shown by the worship of
Shintō deities under Buddhist names. “Despite its professions of
eclecticism,” says Mr. Aston in his book already quoted, “the soul of
_Riōbu Shintō_ was essentially Buddhist.” He speaks, also, of the
movement as the formation of a new sect, a view in which Professor
Chamberlain in his _Things Japanese_ does not seem altogether to concur.
The point may be left to Shintō and Buddhist scholars to determine. The
result of the fusion, in any case, was that most Shintō shrines became
_Riōbu Shintō_ temples. In many of these Buddhist priests alone
officiated, but in some cases such temples had separate establishments
of Shintō and Buddhist clergy, who conducted services alternately in the
same buildings.
Although Confucianists can point to the existence of a temple of that
religion in Tōkiō, neither Confucianism nor Taoism—both of which came to
Japan with the adoption of the written language of China—had ever quite
the status of established religions. It would be difficult to
overestimate the part played by Confucian ethics in the development of
Japanese character and thought. Those, moreover, who have studied the
subject profess to see both in Shintō and Buddhism the impress of Taoist
philosophy. In both cases, however, the influence of these cults on the
Japanese people has been exercised indirectly, by the infiltration of
Confucian and Taoist principles into other faiths, and not directly, as
would have been the case had they operated in the character of separate
and distinct religions.
CHAPTER XIV
Japanese Religions after Restoration: Christianity—Bushidō—Religious
Observances.
The political considerations which have affected religious development
in Japan are chiefly, though by no means entirely, connected with her
modern progress. Under the Tokugawa administration matters concerning
religion were entrusted to official dignitaries called _Jisha-bugiō_
who, as their name, “Controllers of Buddhist and Shintō temples,”
implies, took charge, in addition to other and more important
administrative duties, of all business connected with these two
religions. Both religions were thus recognized by the State, and were
equally matters of concern to the Tokugawa Government, though its
leanings were towards Buddhism. The Imperial Court, on the other hand,
during this period favoured Shintō. This it had not always done. Until
the advent to power of the military ruler Nobunaga in the middle of the
sixteenth century Buddhism had for several centuries been the dominating
religion. The Jesuit missionaries who then reached Japan found Buddhism
at the high tide of its power. At the Imperial Court, and everywhere
throughout the country, it exercised a supreme influence. Its military
strength, too, at that time was formidable. The abbots of Buddhist
monasteries in the vicinity of the Capital and elsewhere, like militant
bishops in the Middle Ages in Europe, kept garrisons of fighting monks,
which constituted a serious menace to administrative authority. A
ruthless campaign conducted by the ruler in question put an end to this
state of things. From the blow then dealt to it the Buddhist militant
clergy never recovered. As a result of the movement in the eighteenth
century, known as “The Revival of Pure Shintō,” to which reference was
made in a previous chapter, Buddhism for a time came under a cloud. But
its influence was subsequently re-established, Shintō sinking back again
into the secondary place it had occupied before.
When the Restoration took place the respective positions of the two
religions were entirely changed. The professed aim of the revolution
being to restore the system of direct Imperial rule, the new Government
naturally adopted every means of accomplishing this object. And, as
belief in the divine descent of the Mikados was a part of Shintō
doctrine, the encouragement of the native religion became an important
point in the programme of the reformers. In the organization of the new
administration, therefore, formed on an ancient bureaucratic model,
prominence was given to religion in the single form of Shintō by the
creation of a separate department of State for the control of Shintō
affairs. To this the name of _Jinji-jimu-Kioku_, shortly afterwards
changed to _jingikwan_, was given. Shintō thus became a synonym, as it
were, for religion; while Buddhism was left out in the cold, and, as a
Church, was practically disestablished. Nor did the zeal of the
reformers, who had thus in effect created a State religion, end here.
A form of abdication of frequent occurrence in Japan had been retirement
into the Buddhist priesthood. The custom was common to the whole nation,
and its practice by Mikados, princes of the Imperial House, Court nobles
and the feudal aristocracy, had increased the prestige of Buddhism,
while enriching the sects whose temples were thus favoured. The new
Government prohibited this custom, so far as the Imperial House and the
nobility were concerned; all _Riōbu Shintō_ temples were restored to
their ancient status of Shintō shrines; and at the same time many
Buddhist temples throughout the country were deprived of the lands from
which their revenues were largely drawn. This act of spoliation served a
double purpose. It benefited the depleted national exchequer and
discouraged the adherents of the ex-Shōgun, whose family had always
patronized Buddhism.
An innovation introduced at this time, with the object apparently of
popularizing Shintō and bringing it into line, so to speak, with
religions elsewhere, was the institution of Shintō funerals; the
performance of funeral rights, as well as the care of cemeteries, having
been entrusted hitherto to Buddhist priests.
That these steps were dictated by policy, and were not due to sectarian
feeling, is evident from the whole course of subsequent action in regard
to religious matters. In 1871 the _jingikwan_ was abolished, and Shintō
ceased to be the only State religion, though retaining to some extent
its privileged character. The place of the defunct department which had
ranked with the Council of State was taken by the _Kiōbusho_, or
Department of Religion, in which both Shintō and Buddhism enjoyed
official recognition, as before. For convenience of administration a
distinction was made between secular matters and religious worship, the
latter being placed under the control of a Bureau of Rites and
Ceremonies. This distinction is still maintained. The official
recognition enjoyed by each religion has been tacitly extended to
Christianity; but the principle of State policy regarding Shintō
survives. It is still _par excellence_ the Court religion, though the
fact that on the accession of a new Sovereign his robes are blessed at a
certain Buddhist temple in Kiōto shows that Buddhism has still an
accepted position at Court. There is a Shintō bureau in the Imperial
Household Department, and a Shintō shrine stands in the Palace.
The services in the Palace shrine at which the Emperor personally
officiates, and the worship by members of the Imperial family, or their
proxies, at the chief shrines in the country, secure for the Shintō
faith the first place in public esteem. The erection, moreover, in the
Capital, since the Restoration, of a national shrine to the memory of
all who have died fighting at home, or abroad, has established a new
centre of Shintō worship, where the native religion, in direct
association with military and patriotic sentiment, gains a fresh hold on
popular sympathy. More recently, too, the functions of the Shintō clergy
have been extended so as to include the ceremony of marriage, which was
formerly unconnected with religion of any kind, while since the
annexation of Korea a Shintō shrine has been established in Seoul.
The purely national character of the Japanese native religion excludes
the idea of its propagation in foreign countries. No such obstacle
exists in the case of Buddhism. After the Restoration several Buddhist
sects turned their attention to missionary effort abroad. A more or less
active propaganda has since then been carried on in Asiatic countries,
and the right of Japanese subjects to engage in missionary work in China
is recognized in the Treaty concluded with that country in 1905 after
the Russo-Japanese War. The activity of the Buddhist clergy in recent
times has shown itself in two ways quite unconnected with religious
propaganda. Extensive journeys in Central Asia for political and
scientific purposes have been undertaken by Buddhist travellers, who in
the course of their wanderings have gained much valuable information;
while others have done useful work in supplying the spiritual needs of
Japanese communities abroad.
The reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse added another to the list
of Japanese religions, though it was not till after the withdrawal of
the anti-Christian edicts in 1870 that the Japanese people were
permitted to adopt openly the new faith. If the progress Christianity
has made since then compares unfavourably with its rapid spread when
first introduced in the sixteenth century, this is explained by the less
favourable circumstances attending its reintroduction. When introduced
by Jesuit missionaries, it was regarded in some places as being simply a
new form of Buddhism, the authorities being misled by a certain
resemblance in ritual. On its later reintroduction it had to contend
against official and popular prejudice due to the previous persecution,
while, instead of being preached, as formerly, in the single form of
Roman Catholicism, it came under several forms, the number of which
increased as more missionaries arrived. A somewhat similar advantage,
however, marked its introduction on each occasion. Just as Christianity,
when introduced under Jesuit auspices, was at first encouraged for the
sake of the trade which came with it, so, on its reintroduction, it was
welcomed as a means of learning English. This advantage it still
retains. An account, written in 1917, of the religious work carried on
by the “Young Men’s Christian Association” since its establishment in
the Capital in 1880 contains the following statement: “One of the most
fruitful phases of the movement has been the securing of Christian
college graduates from Canada and the United States to teach English in
Japanese schools. While these teachers are appointed and salaried by the
schools, they are free to use their leisure for Christian work among the
students. There are now twenty-seven such teachers.” Evidence, moreover,
of the close connection between Christianity and the modern progress of
Japan, and of the benefit derived by the former from the increased study
of foreign languages, which is one of the results of this progress, is
supplied by a Japanese bishop, the Rev. Y. Honda, and Mr. Y. Yamaji in
the chapter on Christianity contributed by them to the book already
mentioned, _Fifty Years of New Japan_.
Opinions differ as to the future of Christianity in Japan. The Reports
of foreign missionary societies furnish encouraging data regarding the
results of missionary efforts during the last half century.
Nevertheless, a feeling of uncertainty regarding the prospects of
Christianity prevails both in Japanese and foreign circles. There is a
tendency to regard the eventual Christianization of the country as
doubtful, though the progress already made is freely admitted. To enter
into the various considerations which influence opinion on this point
would require more space than is at our disposal. An idea, however,
which is entertained by not a few attentive observers is that, in the
event of Christianity becoming in the distant future the dominant
religion of Japan, it will be Christianity in a new form evolved by the
people for themselves. They will do, it is thought, with Christianity as
they have done with the Buddhism imported from abroad, and mould it to
suit their own taste. This view derives some support from the two
separate movements—one towards independence, namely, freedom from
foreign control; the other towards amalgamation—which have taken place
in recent years in several Japanese Christian churches. A notable
instance of the first of these movements occurred some years ago in the
case of the Congregationalist University in Kiōto. In that case the
agitation for independence resulted in the control of the college
passing into the hands of the Japanese directors, the American
missionaries connected with the institution remaining simply as
advisers. American influence predominates to-day in foreign missionary
enterprise, the outstanding feature in the work of American missions
being the establishment of educational institutions on a Christian
basis. According to official statistics for 1917 the number of Japanese
Christians amounted in that year to a little over 200,000.
No account of Japanese religions can be complete without some mention of
_Bushidō_, the religion of the warrior, as its name implies. A product
of Japanese feudalism, round which a good deal of romantic sentiment,
and still more philosophical literature, has grown up, it may be
described as an unwritten rule of conduct to be observed by members of
the military class. Its best known exponent is Yamaga Sokō, whose
lectures and writings in the middle of the seventeenth century on
Bushidō, Confucianism and military strategy, as understood in those
days, gained for him a great reputation. Ōishi, the famous leader of the
Forty-Seven _rōnin_, was one of his pupils. The virtues on which stress
was laid in _Bushidō_ ethics were chiefly feudal loyalty,
self-sacrifice, filial piety and simple living, all of which might,
perhaps, be summed up in the one word duty. The endeavour of the
_samurai_ who was true to _Bushidō_ ideals was to live a life of
self-restraint, so as to be ready to answer the call of duty at any
moment. This explains the attraction for the adherents of _Bushidō_
which lay in the _Zen_ sect of Buddhism with its practice of silent
meditation. It helped them to cultivate the austere and detached habit
of mind that was supposed to be essential to the proper observance of
the Spartan rules of _Bushidō_. At the same time the strong, though
unacknowledged, influence of the Sung school of Confucianism on _Zen_
doctrine indirectly affected _Bushidō_ ideas, imparting to them a tinge
of the abstruse philosophy of that school. The association of the _Zen_
sect, moreover, with the quaint ceremonial of tea-drinking known as
“_Cha-no-yu_,” resulted in the practice of this ceremonial being widely
adopted in _Bushidō_ circles. In no sense a religion in the strict
meaning of the word, despite its connection with Buddhism and
Confucianism, _Bushidō_ in the course of its later development came to
be identified with patriotism. It is this aspect of it which has been
most conspicuous since the disappearance of feudalism. Constant
reference is made by modern Japanese writers on the subject to the
_Yamato Damashii_, or Japanese spirit, which it is considered to
represent; and though much of what is said is far-fetched, and possibly
meant for foreign consumption, the simple precepts of _Bushidō_ have
undoubtedly served a useful purpose in stimulating in all classes of the
people the exercise of the virtues it inculcates. Quick to recognise the
usefulness of its ethical teaching, the Japanese Government has availed
itself of the services of _Bushidō_, in conjunction with Shintō, to
strengthen the fabric of monarchy. Its action in this direction, due,
apparently, to motives similar to those which influenced German policy
before the Great War in encouraging a creed of State worship, was
criticized shrewdly, though somewhat harshly, a few years ago in a
magazine article entitled “The Invention of a new Religion.”
The Japanese people may, as has been suggested, be disposed to take
religion less seriously than other nations. As to the great part,
nevertheless, which it plays in the national life, in the shape of
pilgrimages and religious festivals, there can be no question. At
certain periods of the year, regulated by custom so as to cause the
least interference with agricultural operations, thousands of pilgrims
of both sexes, not content with visiting less remote shrines, make long
journeys to noted shrines throughout the country. The pilgrim who has
thus visited the Great Shrine at Isé, ascended one of Japan’s many
sacred mountains, or worshipped at other distant shrines, not only
“acquires virtue” thereby, but gains social prestige in his home circle
in town, or village, much in the same way as the Mussulman _hadji_ who
has been to Mecca, or the Russian peasant who has seen the sacred places
in the Holy Land. These pilgrimages also serve indirectly an educational
purpose. Among the countless religious festivals which vary the monotony
of daily life in Japan, the flower fairs are those which are most
typically Japanese. On every evening of the year a flower fair,
associated with the festival of a local shrine, takes place in some
quarter of the city of Tōkiō. Nor are these fairs peculiar to the
Capital. They are to be seen in most provincial towns of importance,
though the smaller number of urban shrines precludes their daily
occurrence. Neither pilgrimages nor religious festivals, it should be
noted, are due entirely to religious sentiment. They appeal to the love
of ceremonies, and the passion for sight-seeing, which distinguish the
nation.
Before leaving the subject of religion it may be well to emphasize a
point which has received only passing attention. In all the three
religions which have had most to do with the moulding of Japanese
character and thought, Buddhism, Shintō and Confucianism, the principle
of ancestor-worship is imbedded. The result has been that a closer, a
more intimate, association of the past with the present, of the dead
with the living, is, perhaps, possible in Japan than elsewhere. The
beautiful Buddhist festival of departed spirits; the simpler, if more
primitive, services at Shintō shrines in memory of deceased relatives;
the daily worship at family altars decorated with ancestral tablets; the
careful keeping of the anniversaries of deaths; the religious care
bestowed on graves; and the idea, not to say belief, in the
participation of departed spirits in National Festivals—all tend not
only to keep fresh in men’s minds the memory of their dead, but to
encourage the feeling of their continued existence in spirit land. Thus
the mischief wrought by time is lessened, while death is robbed of a
part of its terrors.
CHAPTER XV
Political Unrest—The Press—Press Laws—Conciliation and Repression—Legal
Reforms—Failure of Yezo Colonization Scheme—Ōkuma’s Withdrawal—Increased
Political Agitation.
When the main thread of our narrative was interrupted in order to enable
the reader to form some idea of Japanese religions, and their relation
to the modern progress of the country, the train of events which
resulted in the concentration of authority in the hands of the Satsuma
and Chōshiū clans, and the formation of a regular opposition party of
advanced reformers, had been briefly described. At this time, as was
pointed out, there was no great difference of principle, so far as
domestic reforms were concerned, between progressive politicians in the
Government and those outside. Both were agreed on the importance of
widening the basis of administration and of associating the people in
the work of government. The idea, also, of what was meant by _the
people_ had grown so as to include all classes of the nation. The point
of disagreement was simply the rate at which progress in the shape of
reform on Western lines should proceed. As between moderate and advanced
reformers, therefore, matters should have been open to compromise. But
the situation was not so simple as it appeared to be. One circumstance
that stood in the way of compromise between the two sections of
reformers was the large number of disbanded _samurai_ which the
abolition of feudalism had thrown upon the country, and for the
absorption of which in other occupations under the new order of things
there had not yet been time. Many men of this class had really nothing
in common with the advanced reformers save in the matter of discontent.
Idle and impecunious, they were ready for mischief of any kind, and
joined eagerly in an agitation for things of which they were mostly
ignorant. Moved by the mere desire to fish in troubled waters, these
people did much harm to the cause they espoused, giving to it a
character of turbulence which excited the apprehension of the
authorities. A further consideration which may have influenced the
situation was the reaction following upon the troubled period through
which the country had passed. Fully alive to the serious nature of the
crisis it had successfully surmounted, and, at the same time, conscious
of its newly found strength, the Government was probably in no mood to
brook any opposition, however well-intentioned, to its now settled
policy of gradual reform. The fact, too, that the Ministry was now one
of two clans, and not, as originally, of four, sharpened the line of
cleavage between those who directed affairs and those who, perforce,
looked on from outside. Clan feeling embittered the movement set on foot
by the advanced reformers not only at the outset, but throughout its
whole course. Much of the sympathy and support they received from many
quarters, as the agitation progressed, had little connection with their
declared objects, being due largely to dislike and jealousy of the
continued predominance of men of these two clans in the Ministry, which
was nicknamed the “Satchō Government.”
The final withdrawal of Itagaki from the Government in the spring of
1876 has been mentioned as the moment from which the organized agitation
for representative government may be considered to have commenced. It is
difficult to assign exact dates for political movements of this kind. It
may with equal correctness be considered as having begun in 1873, when
the Tosa leader first resigned office, which is the view taken by Mr.
Uyéhara in _The Political Development of Japan_. The point is of small
importance, but it seems permissible to regard the agitation as not
having assumed the form of an organized movement until after Itagaki’s
final secession from the Ministry.
Before that happened the Government, doubtless well informed of the
intentions of the advanced reformers, had taken the first step in a
series of repressive measures designed to check the agitation. This was
the Press law promulgated in July, 1875. It is difficult to see how the
Government could at this time have done otherwise, and remained in
power. The attempted assassination of Iwakura by Tosa malcontents had
revealed the danger to be feared from extremists of a dangerous class,
whose dissatisfaction at the pacific settlement of the Korean difficulty
had, it was known, been shared by the Tosa leader. The disturbed
condition of the country had also been shown by the abortive provincial
risings, and was to be demonstrated still more clearly by the Satsuma
rebellion.
Up to that time there had been little interference with the Press. The
first newspapers had appeared in the late ’sixties. These were of an
ephemeral kind, but a few years later the press in its more developed
and permanent form came into existence. It increased very rapidly, while
its vitality may be gauged by the fact that some of the papers which
then made their appearance are in circulation to-day. In the Capital
alone there were soon six or seven daily papers of some standing, all of
which, with one exception, lent their aid to the agitation. Into the
crusade for popular rights the young Press flung itself with enthusiasm,
finding its advantage in the very circumstances which were embarrassing
to the Government. Amongst the former military class—the educated
section of the nation—which the abolition of feudalism had left stranded
with but scanty means of subsistence, there were many men of literary
attainments, as such were understood in those days. From these the Press
could draw an ample supply of writers, all with real or fancied
grievances, some with a bias in favour of popular reforms, others again
with a veneer of Western knowledge which did duty for learning. The
political articles which appeared in the newspapers of that time were
hardly of the quality noticeable to-day. They were full of quotations
from European writers on the subject of equality and the rights of man,
interspersed with phrases from the Chinese classics, which were the
stock-in-trade of all journalists; and, strange as was the contrast
presented by materials culled from sources so different, they were all
equally effective for the purpose intended, which was to denounce what
was described as the tyrannical policy of the Government.
Educational influences, other than those working through the medium of
the Press, lent force to the agitation. The fusion of classes, one of
the first results of the Restoration, had the effect of opening public
and private schools alike to all sections of the people, thus bringing
within reach of everyone the education which before had been the
privilege only of the military class and Buddhist clergy. By teachers in
these schools, by educationalists writing for the express purpose of
disseminating Western ideas, and by lecturers, the work of educating the
nation proceeded apace.
By none were greater services rendered in this direction than by
Fukuzawa Yūkichi. Conspicuous in each of these rôles, as schoolmaster,
author and lecturer, as well as in the double capacity of founder of a
school, which has attained the dimensions of a university, and chief
teacher therein; and as the proprietor and editor of one of the best
Japanese newspapers, the _Jiji Shimpō_, his name will always be famous
in the history of his time. The “Sage of Mita,” as he was called from
the quarter of the city in which he lived, will be remembered as one
who, besides helping the cause of education, strove from the first to
give effect to the fusion of classes by encouraging a spirit of
independence in those sections of the people whose self-respect had been
weakened by centuries of feudalism. For purely party politics Fukuzawa
had little taste, owing perhaps to the fact that he had no clan
connection with political affairs, nor was his newspaper ever identified
with any political association. But it was an active champion of popular
rights, and his voluminous writings, the popularity of which was so
great that of one book more than three million copies were printed, gave
much indirect encouragement to the agitation for popular reforms.
The public indignation excited by the Press law was succeeded by
consternation at the rigorous manner in which it was enforced.
Imprisonment of editors for what would now be regarded as trifling
infringements of the law was of common occurrence, while journals
publishing any matter considered by the authorities to be objectionable
were promptly suspended. To such lengths was interference with the Press
carried that at one time more than thirty journalists were in prison in
Tōkiō alone. The constant depletion of the staffs of newspapers which
incurred official displeasure resulted in the evolution of a class of
dummy editors, whose duty it was to be the “whipping boys” of the papers
they represented, and undergo the sentences of imprisonment imposed. The
agitation, nevertheless, continued unabated, and political associations,
in whose programmes a demand for representative government—never very
clearly defined—occupied the first place, sprang up in various places. A
leading figure in the movement, who came into notice soon after its
inception, and for several years took a prominent part, in company with
Itagaki both as a lecturer and in the formation of political clubs, was
Kataoka Kenkichi, also a native of Tosa. His arrest and that of other
members of the party at the height of the political disturbances which
culminated in the Satsuma rebellion, brought about a temporary cessation
of agitation, and checked for a time the growth of political clubs. But
with the restoration of order in the country the agitators resumed their
activity. The leaders made tours of the provinces to stimulate local
effort, as a result of which twenty-seven provincial associations,
representing some 90,000 members, were formed; and at a meeting held in
Ōsaka these were amalgamated under the name of “Union for the
establishment of a parliament.” The Government replied by promulgating
in 1880 the Law of Public Meetings, which restricted considerably the
rights hitherto enjoyed by the public in this respect. But the agitators
continued to work with undiminished energy, and the fact that, in spite
of the issue of this law, a meeting held in Tōkiō in the autumn of the
same year was attended by representatives from more than half of the
prefectures into which Japan was then divided shows how strong a hold on
the country the movement had by this time acquired.
We have seen how the work of reconstruction carried on by the
Government, though hindered, never stopped during the period of civil
commotions. It was the same during the long course of popular agitation
which followed it. Side by side with repression there went always
reform. Steady progress was made with the long and difficult business of
land-tax revision. Involving, as it did, a resurvey and the valuation of
all land, as well as the investigation of titles to land, and
boundaries, this was a task of the first magnitude. At the same time
attention was given to the reorganization of local government. This
included, besides the readjustment of local taxation, the arrangements
necessary for the eventual establishment of the prefectural and other
local assemblies, forming part of the general scheme of local
self-government, which, it was considered, must necessarily precede the
creation of a national parliament. It was not until after the
restoration of order, when it was at length possible for the task of
reconstruction to proceed more rapidly, that the results of this tedious
and little-noticed work became apparent.
In the spring of 1878 the first of these results was seen in the
completion at the second conference of Prefects, to which reference has
already been made, of drafts of the “three great laws,” as they were
called at the time. These, which conceded a large measure of local
autonomy, concerned local taxation, prefectural assemblies, and similar
smaller bodies to be created in urban and rural districts, towns and
villages.
The law establishing prefectural assemblies came into force in 1880; the
arrangements relating to smaller bodies not until some years later.
These measures will be referred to again when we come to deal with the
whole question of the revision of local government.
It has been said that in the earlier stages of agitation for popular
reforms no concession was ever made by the Government till it was
compelled to do so by the force of circumstances. And the assertion has
been supported by the suggestion of a connection in point of time
between certain manifestations of popular feeling, and some of the
liberal measures adopted by the Government. The attempted assassination
of Iwakura was certainly followed shortly afterwards by the decree
establishing the annual conferences of Prefects. On the other hand the
completion of the drafts of the three laws above mentioned at the second
of these conferences occurred only a month before Ōkubo’s assassination.
In that case there was no possible connection. Nor in subsequent years
does it seem possible to establish any connection of the kind suggested.
If traceable at all, it may be regarded as due simply to coincidence.
A somewhat similar view as to the pressure put upon the Government by
the agitation is taken by Mr. Uyéhara, the author already quoted, who
does not conceal his sympathy with the advanced reformers. He speaks of
the movement as being from its inception a struggle for constitutional
reform, in which the agitators were successful, and regards the
introduction of representative government when it came as a proof of
their success. It is indeed more than probable that the agitation they
conducted for so long, fortified as it was by an increasing measure of
support from the public, hastened in some degree the establishment of
the representative institutions for which they clamoured. But the
impression one derives from studying the course of action adopted by the
Government is that, while not hesitating to control the agitation by
repressive measures, as occasion demanded, they were ready to conciliate
public feeling by meeting the views of the advanced party whenever it
seemed expedient to do so; thus pursuing on the whole, consistently,
under circumstances of unusual difficulty, the policy of gradual reform
which it had marked out for itself. Assuming the correctness of this
impression, the progressive stages by which the establishment of
representative government was eventually reached may with more reason be
regarded as a successful vindication of that policy, than as a triumph
for the agitators. It is important to bear in mind that the latter were
not the only advocates of reform. The Government itself was a government
of reformers, who had more than justified their title to be regarded as
such. Some of its members had thought of representative institutions
even before the Restoration. The men in power were in a better position
than others to estimate correctly the extent of preparation, the
spade-work which was necessary before any step of practical reform could
be accomplished; and if they were reluctant to move as fast as more
eager, and, possibly, ill-balanced enthusiasm desired, their hesitation
may not unfairly be ascribed to prudent statesmanship.
Nevertheless, in the adoption by the Government of this twofold policy
of conciliation and repression the influence of the conservative element
in the Ministry should not be overlooked. It doubtless modified earlier
ministerial impulses towards a more advanced programme; increased the
hesitation to make what were regarded as dangerous experiments in view
of the nation’s recent emergence from feudalism; and created the
tendency which ultimately showed itself in the decision to look for
guidance in framing representative institutions, as well as in other
matters of administrative reorganization, to countries less governed by
democratic ideas than those from which the leaders of the Restoration
movement had drawn their first inspiration. Another reason for the
cautious trend of ministerial policy may also be found in the experience
gained by some, at least, of the members of the Government in studying
the growth and development of the Western institutions it was proposed
to copy.
The year 1880 saw the completion of the first legal reforms. In the
course of that year a new Penal Code, and a Code of Criminal Procedure,
in the preparation of which the services of a French jurist, Monsieur
Boissonade, had been utilized, were promulgated. The first steps in the
framing of these important laws, based, it should be noted, on French
models, had been taken seven years before, when a committee of
investigation had been formed in the Department of Justice. Both of
these Codes came into operation early in 1882. The Code of Criminal
Procedure was replaced by a later Code in 1890. The Penal Code also
underwent subsequent revision, coming into force in its revised form in
1908.
In the autumn of 1881 the ranks of the advanced party were reinforced by
the retirement from the Ministry of Ōkuma. Since the rupture of 1873,
when the leading Tosa and Hizen politicians withdrew from office, he had
been the sole representative of the province and clan of Hizen. Rumour
assigned more than one reason for his withdrawal. Disagreement on
various questions with Chōshiū statesmen, whose influence was
increasing; umbrage at the conduct of affairs by two clans; the holding
of views on reform which were in advance of those of the Government as a
body; and intrigues with the Court were points to which prominence was
given in the political gossip of the day. That Ōkuma’s liberalism was of
a more pronounced type than that of his colleagues seems very probable
in the light of after events. Personal considerations, however, had
possibly something to do with his leaving the Government. The force of
character, coupled with exceptional and versatile talent, which marked
him out as a leader, made it hard for him to accept the leadership of
others, and detracted from his usefulness as a colleague.
Shortly before his resignation an administrative scandal had occurred in
connection with the abolition of the Board for the development of the
_Hokkaidō_, to which reference has already been made. Its abolition
involved the disposal of Government property, and in the course of the
examination of a scheme for this purpose which had been submitted to the
Government grave official irregularities were disclosed. The scheme,
which he had been among the first to condemn, was consequently
abandoned, but the incident brought discredit on the Ministry.
The retirement of Ōkuma was followed almost immediately by the issue of
a decree fixing the year 1890 as the date for the establishment of a
Parliament.
This definite promise at this juncture of a Parliament was interpreted
in some quarters as a concession necessitated by the discredit which the
Government had incurred through the administrative scandal, and from its
position being weakened by Ōkuma’s retirement. But the almost
simultaneous issue of the law imposing restrictions on public meetings,
and freedom of speech, seems to justify the view that both measures were
simply an illustration of the twofold policy of repression alternating
with reform which the Government was pursuing.
With the important concession now made by the Government the first
period, so to speak, of the agitation for popular rights may be regarded
as drawing to its close. The chief features of this period have been
noted; the outbreak and suppression of grave disorders, which at one
time threatened to put a stop to all national progress; the creation of
a strong Government of two clans; the growth of a political movement
which derived a large measure of support from public feeling; and the
measures taken for its control by the Government. We have also seen how
little homogeneous in its character was the opposition party conducting
the movement; how it comprised genuine reformers, others actuated mainly
by clan jealousy, disappointed politicians, and impecunious _shizoku_,
the wreckage of the feudal system, who were long a disturbing element in
politics, and developed later on into the class of political rowdies
known as _sōshi_.
For all of these ill-assorted associates the demand for popular rights
was a convenient rallying cry. To the opposition thus formed, which grew
gradually more compact as it shed its less desirable elements, the
withdrawal of Ōkuma from the Ministry meant the accession of a powerful
ally, though his independence of thought and somewhat uncompromising
temperament never allowed him to identify himself too closely with the
views of other politicians. With the energy and versatility that marked
all his actions he threw himself into the movement led by the advanced
reformers, and soon appeared in the new rôle of educationalist.
Following the example set by Fukuwaza fifteen years earlier, he
established the Waséda College, now a University, which remains a
monument to his abilities. Like his predecessor, he was a voluminous
author, never, however, writing himself but dictating to an amanuensis,
and founded a daily paper which is still in circulation. Like him,
again, he could lay claim to having trained a very large number of those
who now fill official posts in Japan.
The political creeds of the advanced reformers, with whom Ōkuma was to
be associated for the seven years during which he remained in
opposition, were necessarily shaped to some extent by the foreign
influences with which the Japanese people first came into touch after
the reopening of the country to foreign intercourse. Western political
literature of all kinds, in which the product of advanced American
thought figured largely, was then eagerly studied by a people shut out
for centuries from contact with the outside world. Under these
circumstances it is only natural that the republican atmosphere of
Japan’s nearest Western neighbour—the first to enter into Treaty
relations with her—should have coloured in some degree the political
aspirations of those who were clamouring for popular reforms, and have
even affected the studies of students in the educational institutions to
which attention has been drawn.
CHAPTER XVI
Promise of Representative Government—Political Parties—Renewed
Unrest—Local Outbreaks.
The decree announcing the Imperial decision to establish a Parliament in
1890 was issued on the 12th October, 1881. In this decree the Emperor
refers to his intention from the first to establish gradually a
constitutional form of government, evidence of which had already been
furnished by the creation of a Senate (_Genrō-in_) in 1875, and the
drafting, three years later, of the laws concerning local
government-measures designed, it is explained, to serve as a foundation
for the further reforms contemplated. Conscious, His Majesty proceeds to
observe, of his responsibility in the discharge of his duties as
Sovereign to the Imperial ancestors, whose spirits were watching his
actions, he declares his determination to proceed with the work of
reform, and charges his Ministers to make preparations for the
establishment of a Parliament at the time appointed; reserving to
himself the task of deciding, later on, the questions of the limitations
to be imposed on the Imperial prerogative, and the character of the
Parliament to be created. The decree dwells on the undesirability of
sudden and startling changes in administration, and concludes with a
warning to the people, under pain of the Imperial displeasure, not to
disturb the public peace by pressing for innovations of this nature.
Although the granting of a Constitution was not expressly mentioned in
the decree, the reference in it to the limitations to be imposed on the
Imperial prerogative clearly implied that the creation of a Parliament,
and the granting of a Constitution, would go together. That the latter,
when promulgated, would be a written Constitution was also clear both
from the circumstances of the time and from the methods already followed
by the Government in carrying out its policy of legislative reforms.
No time was lost in beginning the preparations mentioned in the Imperial
announcement. In March of the following year, as we read in the
reminiscences contributed by him to _Fifty Years of New Japan_, the late
Prince (then Mr.) Itō was ordered by the Emperor to prepare a draft of a
Constitution, and on the fifteenth of the same month he set out, he
tells us, on “an extended journey in different constitutional countries
to make as thorough a study as possible of the actual workings of
different systems of constitutional government, of their various
provisions, as well as of theories and opinions actually entertained by
influential persons on the actual stage itself of constitutional life.”
In the prosecution of this enquiry into constitutional matters, which
occupied his attention for eighteen months, Prince Itō was assisted by a
numerous staff of assistants.
By the definite promise of a Parliament, to be accompanied by a
Constitution, the position of the agitators was changed. With the
disappearance of their chief grievance the ground had been cut from
under their feet. It was no longer a question of whether there should be
a Parliament or not, but what sort of Parliament the one to be
established in 1890 should be. Neither on this point, however, nor on
the framing of the Constitution, was there any intention of consulting
the nation. The decree had expressly stated that these questions would
be reserved for the Imperial decision later on. While the Government,
therefore, proceeded with its preparations for the establishment of
representative institutions, it was incumbent on the leaders of the
opposition party to prepare on their side for the time when
constitutional government of a kind would be an accomplished fact, and
complete their organization in readiness for the Parliament, whose
opening would furnish them with the desired field for their activities.
Thus, the effect of the Imperial decree was to hasten the development of
political parties. For these, when formed, there was little to do until
representative institutions came actually into operation; and their
restricted sphere of utility was still further reduced by the increasing
severity of the repressive measures adopted by the Government.
Nevertheless, the same things which had previously assisted the progress
of the agitation for popular reforms now encouraged the development of
political parties. These were: the magic of the expressions “public
discussion” and “public opinion,” first heard at the time of the
Restoration, which had captivated the public ear all the more, perhaps,
from their being imperfectly understood; and the novelty, always
attractive to the Japanese people, of the methods adopted by the
advanced reformers in the shape of public meetings and public addresses
which were a new phenomenon in the history of the country.
Political associations had, as we have seen, been formed before, in
connection with the agitation for popular reforms, both in the Capital
and in the provinces. Owing their creation chiefly to the leader of the
Tosa party and his lieutenants, most of them had led a rather precarious
existence, flourishing or dying down in response to the degree of
severity characterizing the measures of control taken by the
authorities. Neither in point of organization, nor in definiteness of
aim, could they be regarded quite as political parties. The latest and
most important of these associations had been the Union for the
establishment of a Parliament, formed in 1880, which, as already
mentioned, represented between twenty and thirty societies in various
parts of the country. Out of this unwieldy body the first political
party grew, taking the place of the parent society which was dissolved.
This was the _Jiyūtō_, or Liberal Party, established by Itagaki in
October, 1881, a few days only after the issue of the Imperial decree.
Its birth was signalized by collision with the authorities, a misfortune
which might not incorrectly have been interpreted as an omen of a stormy
career. The party managers had, it seems, omitted to give notice to the
police of gatherings of the party, thereby infringing the Law of Public
Meetings. For their omission to do so the managers were fined, and a
further result of the infringement was that, though actually founded on
the date above mentioned, the party did not receive official recognition
until July of the following year. Itagaki was elected President of the
party, and one of the four Vice-Presidents was Gotō Shōjirō, whose
connection with the resignation of the last of the Shōguns will be
remembered.
The programme of the Liberal Party was comprehensive, if rather vague.
Its intentions, as announced in the manifesto issued, were “to endeavour
to extend the liberties of the people, maintain their rights, promote
their happiness and improve their social condition.” The manifesto also
expressed the party’s desire “to establish a constitutional government
of the best type,” and its readiness to co-operate with all who were
inspired by similar aims. Its President, Itagaki Taisuké, had from the
first been the prime mover in the agitation for popular reforms, which
without his inspiration and guidance would never have attained the
dimensions it did; both in and out of season he had pressed upon the
attention of the Government and the country the desirability of
broadening whenever and wherever possible the basis of administration;
and he shared with Ōkuma the distinction of being a pioneer in the
organization of political parties in preparation for the Parliament to
be established and a successful party leader after representative
institutions had come into operation. Lacking the versatility of his
Hizen contemporary and colleague, he was nevertheless a leading figure
in political circles, where his sincerity and tenacity of purpose
commanded much respect. The public indignation excited by the
unsuccessful attempt on his life made in the spring of 1882 was a
tribute to his popularity, and the words he is said to have uttered when
stabbed, “Itagaki may die, but not liberty,” are still quoted. Had he,
like other politicians of his time, lived more in Tōkiō and less in his
native province, he might have been better known outside of Japan.
In the spring of 1882 two other political parties came into existence.
One of these was the “_Rikken-Kaishintō_,” or Constitutional Reform
Party, which was established by Ōkuma with the co-operation of a number
of well-known men who had followed him into retirement when he left the
Ministry in the previous year. Prominent among these ex-officials were
Shimada Saburō, a distinguished writer, who afterwards became President
of the House of Representatives; Yano Fumiō, another distinguished
writer, who later on filled the post of Japanese Minister to China; and
Ozaki Yukiō, who was afterwards Minister of Education, as well as Mayor
of Tōkiō, and now occupies a foremost position as speaker, writer and
parliamentarian. The programme of the _Kaishintō_ was more definite than
that of the Liberal Party. Besides the usual stock phrases as to
upholding the dignity of the Throne and promoting the happiness of the
people, it dwelt on the necessity of internal progress as a preliminary
step to “the extension of national rights and prestige,” and advocated
the development of local self-government, the gradual extension of the
franchise _pari passu_ with the progress of the nation, the
encouragement of foreign trade, and financial reform.
The points of difference between the Liberal Party and the _Kaishintō_,
or Moderate Liberals, as we may call them, were of the kind that
distinguished the two party leaders from each other. The greater culture
and refinement, as well as the moderation, of the Hizen statesman were
reflected in the more sober views of his party, which appealed to a more
educated section of the people than the cruder and more radical
doctrines and methods of the _Jiyūtō_.
The third party established at this time was the _Rikken Teisei-to_, or
Constitutional Imperialist Party. Fukuchi, editor of the _Nichi Nichi
Shimbun_, which was then a semi-official organ, took an active part in
its formation. Its _raison d’être_ was support of the Government, which
the other two parties opposed. It was, therefore, usually known as the
Government party. Some of the items of its elaborate programme were in
themselves a sufficient indication of its official sympathies. Approval
was expressed of the date (1890) fixed for the establishment of a
parliament; of whatever form of Constitution might be decided upon by
the Government with the Imperial sanction; of there being two Chambers;
of the necessity of qualifications for members; and of the final
decision in all matters resting with the Emperor. But other points in
the programme suggested some independence of opinion. The party favoured
the separation of the army and navy from politics; the independence of
judges; freedom of public meetings in so far as was consonant with
national tranquillity; as well as freedom of public speech, of
publication and of the Press within legal limits, and financial reform.
The same spirit which led to the formation of these three political
parties in the Capital inspired the birth of many more in the provinces.
More than forty of these sprang up like mushrooms, and the confusion
naturally attending the sudden appearance of so many was increased by
the rule which made it necessary for each to be registered as a separate
organization, even when name and associations clearly indicated its
connection with the parent party in the Capital. Almost every prefecture
could boast of its own political party, usually affiliated to one of the
three chief parties in Tōkiō, whose example was generally followed in
the inclusion of the word “Constitutional” in the title, a fact which
shows what importance was attached to constitutional principles as a
basis of government. Occasionally, too, the dearth of fixed political
ideas was shown by the comprehensive vagueness of the name chosen. An
instance of this occurred in the case of the political party formed in
the province of Noto, which assumed the non-committal designation of the
_Jiyū-Kaishintō_, which was intended to mean the Party of Liberty and
Reform, but lent itself to the interpretation of being the Liberal and
Moderate Liberal Party. In this, as in many other instances, the name
was a mere label without much meaning.
In spite of the flourish of trumpets which accompanied the formation of
these three political parties, and their numerous branches—for such they
mostly were—in the provinces, the movement collapsed as suddenly as it
arose. Before eighteen months had passed one of the three, the
Imperialist Party, had decided to dissolve. A year later its example was
followed by the Liberal Party; while the third, the party of Moderate
Liberals, led by Ōkuma, though it escaped dissolution, was by the end of
1884 in a moribund condition, without either president or
vice-president.
For this sudden blighting of the hopes of the newly formed class of
politicians there were several reasons. In the first place, in pursuance
of what had been termed its settled policy of alternate conciliation and
repression, the Government, after the issue of the Imperial decree
promising a parliament, had embarked upon a course of further repressive
legislation. The law restricting the right of public meeting and speech,
which had been issued in 1880, was in 1882 revised and made much more
stringent. Under this revised law the powers of the police for
inquisitorial purposes were increased; political parties were bound to
furnish full particulars concerning the rules of association and lists
of members; no meeting could be held unless permission from the police
had been obtained three days before; it was forbidden to advertise the
subjects of political lectures and debates, or to invite attendance at a
meeting; political associations were not only debarred from having
branches in other places, but from holding communications, or carrying
on any kind of relations with other political parties—a provision which
was said to be inspired by fear of the amalgamation of parties opposed
to the Government; and, on the simple ground of its being necessary for
the preservation of the public peace, the police had power at any time
to close a public meeting. And yet, strange to say, the Government which
did these things, which left no stone unturned in its efforts to thwart
the designs of suspected politicians, was itself a Government of
reformers, and betrayed at moments no little sympathy with the popular
cause it was fighting.
The severity of the policy adopted by the Government extended to the
Press. In the spring of 1883 the Press law of 1875, the operation of
which had given rise to a special class of “prison editors,” was revised
in a spirit of increasing harshness. In cases falling under what was
known as the “Law of Libel,” not the editor of a paper only, as before,
but the proprietor and manager also, were held jointly responsible; the
law itself was construed so as to leave no loophole of escape for the
suspected offender; and the conditions imposed on journalistic
enterprise made it almost impossible to start a newspaper or to carry it
on when started.
The newly formed political parties were also at a disadvantage as
regards the place which was of necessity their centre of operations. We
have seen how before the reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse
Tōkiō, then called Yedo, had for nearly three centuries been the seat of
administration; how with the gradual decay of Tokugawa authority the
centre of political activity had shifted for a time to the former
capital, Kiōto; and how after the Restoration of 1868–9 Tōkiō, now
called by its changed name, had more than regained its position,
becoming as the new Capital the place where the new life of the nation
and its interests were focussed. Its position was now stronger than
ever, for the abolition of feudalism had put an end to all separatist
tendencies, and provincial towns had lost much of their former
importance. The change was not without its effect on the organization of
political parties. However great the local influence of the leaders
might be, it was in Tōkiō that the constitution of parties took place.
The provinces counted for little. They might supply the leaders, but the
Capital was the centre of operations. There, as being the seat of
administration, the Government was at its strongest, while the party
politicians on the other hand were at a disadvantage. Beyond the reach
of the local ties in clan or province, on which they depended for
support, they worked in strange and uncongenial surroundings. Moreover,
the enforcement of the rule forbidding the formation of provincial
branches and combination with other political bodies, condemned them to
a position of comparative isolation.
Another difficulty with which political parties had to contend was the
absence of any concrete and well-defined issues upon which politicians
could concentrate. As, in the early ministerial rupture of 1873, in
which political parties had their genesis, no broad question of
principle, so far as reforms were concerned, had divided the retiring
statesmen from their colleagues who remained at the head of affairs, so
it was with political parties at this time, and for many years
afterwards. No clear line of demarcation separated one from another. All
alike were in favour of progress and reform, all anxious, though not
altogether in equal measure, for the extension of the people’s rights.
It is true that the programmes issued by the different parties at the
time of their formation, as well as the speeches of party leaders,
showed some divergencies, but the views therein expressed were pious
opinions, and nothing more. They dealt with things in the abstract, not
with practical issues, which had not yet arisen. It is not surprising,
therefore, that in the absence of more material concerns time should
have been wasted in vague and futile controversy on such abstract
subjects as sovereign rights and their exercise; the Liberals declaring
that sovereignty lay with the people, the Imperialists that it rested
with the Sovereign; while the party of Constitutional Reform contended
that it resided in something representing both, namely, a parliament,
which had as yet no existence. Under such circumstances popular
enthusiasm declined, and even serious politicians lost interest in the
welfare of their party.
Much mischief was, also, caused by disunion, the result of inexperience
and lack of discipline. This was aggravated in the case of the Liberal
Party by the departure on a tour of observation in Europe and America of
its president, Itagaki, and Gotō, one of its vice-presidents. The
Government was accused of arranging this tour with the double object of
weakening the _Jiyūtō_ by depriving it of the services of its ablest
politicians, and of creating discord between the Liberals and the Party
of Constitutional Reform. If this was its plan, it certainly succeeded.
Not only was the _Jiyūtō_ weakened by internal dissensions, but the
relations of the two parties became at once estranged. The one accused
the other of receiving bribes from the Government, and when they both
practically disappeared from the scene, the feud was bequeathed to their
successors.
One reason alone, however, in the absence of any others, would probably
have sufficed to render futile this first experiment at party making for
parliamentary purposes. There was no parliament, and no one knew what
sort of parliament there would be. In these circumstances the
proceedings of political parties lacked reality, and gave the impression
of a stage performance.
The results of the political activity of the nation in the direction we
have described were certainly not encouraging. All that was left of the
three parties after two or three years of strenuous endeavour was a
shattered and leaderless remnant of one, the other two having melted
away altogether; and of their work nothing survived save a faint tracing
of lines along which the subsequent development of political parties
proceeded.
More than once in the preceding pages attention has been called to the
embarrassment and danger caused to the country by the large numbers of
ex-_samurai_ with little means and less occupation, whom the abolition
of the feudal system had left stranded, and who now lay like a blight
upon the land. For some of the better educated of these former members
of the military class the rapidly developing Press had furnished
employment. The restless energies of the remainder had found occupation
for a time in the movement for the formation of political parties. As
soon, however, as the first impulse of the movement had spent its force,
and before the actual dissolution of any of the parties, their attention
was diverted to other channels of political activity which promised more
immediate results; and the occurrence of several outbreaks and plots
following one another at short intervals, testified to the serious
mischief still to be apprehended from this unruly class.
The first of these to call for the intervention of the authorities was a
rising which took place in 1883 in a prefecture to the north of the
Capital. The cause of the trouble was a dispute between the officials
and the people of the district in regard to the construction of roads.
Into the question of road construction, as into that of all other public
works, entered the question of the _corvée_. This was an important
feature of rural administration, dating back to ancient times, and
consisted of personal service, or its commutation by a money payment. It
opened the door to many abuses, but, if imposed in the form of personal
service at seasons when there was little outdoor work to be done, it was
preferred by the peasant to other modes of taxation. In the case in
question there was no objection in principle to the _corvée_, but the
action of the authorities was resented on the ground that the roads it
was intended to construct were not required. Consequently, when the
governor called for labour on the roads, the people refused to work, and
the disturbances which ensued became so serious as to require the use of
troops for their suppression. In pre-Restoration days the trouble would
not have extended beyond the compass of a simple agrarian riot. What
made it more important, and gave it a political aspect, was the
admixture of the _shizoku_, or ex-_samurai_, element, which in feudal
times could never have occurred. One of the ringleaders in this rising,
who escaped with a term of imprisonment for an offence which a few years
before would have cost him his head, afterwards became President of the
House of Representatives. In this capacity he speedily earned fresh
notoriety by headstrong action leading to the immediate dissolution of
Parliament, and the extinction of his parliamentary career.
Other risings and plots which had no connection with local grievances,
but were the outcome of discontent and lawlessness, occurred in various
parts of the country. The most singular, as it was the last of the
series, was a fantastic attempt made in 1885 to stir up trouble in
Korea, in the hope that this might react on the political situation in
Japan, and hasten the establishment of representative government. Those
concerned in the plot were all of _samurai_ origin, and subsequently
took a prominent part in the proceedings of parliamentary parties.
The complicity of many members of the Liberal Party, both before and
after its dissolution, in these insurrectionary movements is admitted by
Japanese writers, who are disposed to attribute it mainly to the
excessive severity of the measures of repression taken by the
authorities.
CHAPTER XVII
Framing of Constitution—New Peerage—Reorganization of Ministry—English
Influence—Financial Reform—Failure of Conferences for Treaty Revision.
With the return of the Itō mission in September, 1883, the task of
framing a Constitution was commenced. By that time the conservative
tendencies in the Ministry had become more marked. They were to increase
still further as a result of the study of Western political systems in
which the mission had been engaged. Most of its time had been spent in
Germany. The rapid progress of that country since its expansion into an
Empire, the bureaucratic basis of its administration, the conservative
bias of its rulers, and the personality of Bismarck, were presumably
reasons that pointed to the adoption of German models in constitutional,
as well as other administrative matters, as those best suited to a
nation which had just emerged from feudalism. For a Government, too,
which wished to retain as much power as possible in the hands of the
Crown, a Constitution, such as those of German States, under which the
Sovereign and his ministers were independent of Parliament, had a
natural attraction. And there may have been a conviction of the
necessity of some counterpoise to the democratic ideas derived from
intercourse with republican countries, and from Western literature of an
advanced type, whose mischievous effects had been shown in the extreme
views, and still more extreme methods, of the political agitators who
clamoured for representative institutions.
In the spring of 1884 Itō became Minister of the Imperial Household, and
a special bureau was formed in that department for the purpose of
drawing up a Constitution under his direction. The choice of the
Household Department for this task was determined by political
considerations. It was desired to emphasize the point that the
constitution was granted of his own accord by the Sovereign, not wrested
from him by his subjects. There was also a wish to impress upon the
nation the fact that the Throne was the source of all authority. The
arrangement had also the advantage of disarming criticism, while the
privacy associated with the proceedings of a department representing the
Court removed all risk of interference from outside.
Soon after Itō’s appointment as Minister of the Household new orders of
nobility were created, the model adopted being that of the continent of
Europe. With the fall of the Shōgunate, and the abolition of the feudal
system, all territorial titles had disappeared. Gone also were the empty
Court, or official, titles, so eagerly sought, the bestowal of which had
been one of the last surviving prerogatives of the Crown.
An account of these ancient titles has already been given. Many of them
had become hereditary in the families which held them, and their
disappearance had been viewed with regret in many quarters. The creation
of the new orders of nobility, therefore, gained much popularity for the
new Minister of the Household. There was indeed a special reason for the
measure. It was the first step towards the establishment of a
constitutional _régime_. A House of Peers was to be a leading feature of
the Constitution now in course of preparation, and it was essential to
create a new nobility before the institution of which it was to form a
part came into operation. Some five hundred peers in all were created,
the number including 12 princes, 24 marquises, 74 counts, 321 viscounts
and 69 barons. The recipients of these new titles were the ex-_Kugé_, or
Court nobles, the ex-daimiōs, who under the feudal system had
constituted the territorial nobility, and ex-_samurai_, still in office,
who had rendered eminent service to the State at the time of the
Restoration. Not unnaturally the lion’s share of the titles received by
commoners fell to Satsuma and Chōshiū men. Assuming the number of
ex-_Kugé_ to be 150, and that of the ex-daimiōs to be 300, it will be
seen that the number of commoners ennobled amounted to only one-tenth of
the whole. The disproportionately large number of viscounts created is
explained by the fact that there was little difference in the positions
of most of the territorial nobility, although each had his fixed place
in the table of official precedence. It was, therefore, difficult to
make any discrimination in these cases when the old system of things was
translated into the new. It would appear, moreover, that this was also
the case with the old Court nobility. Among the ex-_samurai_ to be
ennobled were the Chōshiū statesmen, Itō, Yamagata and Inouyé, and three
Satsuma members of the Government, Kuroda, the younger Saigō, and
Matsugata, all of whom became Counts. The services of other ex-_samurai_
who had distinguished themselves at the time of the Restoration, but
were in opposition when the new nobility was created, were recognized
some years later, Ōkuma, Itagaki and Gotō then receiving the same title
of Count.
In the reorganization of the administrative system which took place in
the following year the hand of the new Minister of the Household could
again be seen. The previous reorganization of the Ministry had occurred
in 1871. The changes then made had been of two kinds: the substitution
in the new Government of the leading spirits of the Restoration in place
of representatives of the feudal aristocracy, thus strengthening the
progressive element in the Ministry; and the separation of the Central
Executive into three branches directed by the three chief Ministers of
State (the _Daijō Daijin_, or Prime Minister, the _Sadaijin_, or
Minister of the Left, and the _Udaijin_, or Minister of the Right).
Under this system, which, in its main outlines, had continued ever
since, there was no clear division between the different departments of
State, nor had the Prime Minister, in whose name all decrees were
issued, proper control over the ministers in charge of them, who were
all independent of each other. The effect of the change now introduced,
in imitation of the German Cabinet system, was to give increased
importance and authority to the post of Premier who received the new
designation of Minister President of the Cabinet. By the creation of a
new Department of Agriculture and Commerce the number of State
Departments was increased to nine. The Ministers of these Departments,
together with the Minister President, constituted the Cabinet. The
Imperial Household formed a separate department, the Minister of the
Household not being included in the Cabinet. Under the new arrangement
the Premier virtually directed the policy of the State, and was eligible
for a portfolio, if he chose to hold one. Like the German Chancellors
under Hohenzollern rule, he was responsible for the whole
administration, while exercising a general control over all Departments.
The changes involved in this administrative reorganization, which is
still in existence, had also another and deeper signification. They
meant the final triumph of Western ideas, and the open assumption of the
reins of Government by the men who had up to that time been working
behind the scenes.
Other changes effected about this time, and due to the initiative of the
same statesman, were the creation of the office of Lord Keeper of the
Seals (_Naidaijin_) who presided over a body of fifteen Court
Councillors (_Kiūchiū-Komonkwan_), whose duties were to give advice
regarding Court ceremonies and usages; and the establishment of a system
of competitive examinations for employment in the Civil Service. This
reform, which one is tempted to regard as the application of one of the
principles mentioned in the Imperial Oath, though the motive may have
been simply the same that prompted other Western innovations, put an end
to much of the favouritism which had previously influenced official
appointments, and had furnished political agitators with a useful cry. A
further indication of progressive tendencies was furnished by the
adoption of English as a subject of study in primary schools. This step
was an official recognition of the influence it had exercised and was
still exercising upon the modern development of Japan. That influence
has been fully recognized by Japanese writers. In _Fifty Years of New
Japan_, a book to which reference has been made more than once in these
pages, Professor Haga, speaking of the effects of the reopening of Japan
to foreign intercourse, tells us that it has always been through books
in the English language that the Japanese people formed their
conceptions of things European, and obtained glimpses of the general
features of the outside world. Elsewhere in the same work Professor
Nitobé, who studied chiefly in the United States, remarks that “the
effect of the English tongue on the mental habits [? mentality] of the
Japanese people is incalculable”; and he adds that “the moral influence
of some of the simple text-books used in our schools cannot be
overrated.”
The year 1886 is associated with a financial reform of the first
importance—the resumption of specie payments, in other words, the
substitution of convertible for inconvertible paper money. When dwelling
for a moment in a previous chapter on the financial difficulties
confronting the new Government that was formed after the Restoration,
mention was made of the confused state of the monetary system at that
time, and more especially the chaotic condition of the paper money then
in circulation. From a _History of the Currency_ published by the
Government in the above mentioned year we learn that the money in use at
the beginning of the Meiji era (1868) included four kinds of gold coins
(one being a coin not in general use); two kinds of silver coins,
besides bars and balls of silver of fixed weights; six kinds of copper,
brass and iron coins, known by the general term of _zeni_, or “cash”
(one of these being merely a money token, and not an actual coin); and
no less than 1600 different currencies of paper money. Much of the
coinage was debased. The paper currencies emanated partly from the
central Tokugawa Government and partly from the local feudal
authorities. More than two-thirds of the 270 odd clans then in
existence, and eight _hatamoto_ territories, had paper currencies of
their own, and in many cases issues of different dates were in
circulation together. This paper money, too, was of various kinds. There
were gold notes, silver notes, _sen_ notes, notes representing fixed
amounts in copper, brass and iron “cash,” as well as rice notes
representing definite quantities of rice, and used in the payment of
taxes, which were levied chiefly in kind. There were also what were
called “credit notes”—issued in return for money deposited by the
commercial establishments which did duty for banks in those
days—representing gold, silver, cash, or rice, as the case might be. The
mischief was intensified by the erroneous ideas then held as to the
proper ratio between gold and silver, and between these two metals and
copper, which enabled the foreign trader to make illegitimate profits,
and caused great loss to the country. The steps taken by the Government,
after the establishment of a mint, and the abolition of the feudal
system, to remedy this state of things included the withdrawal of
current issues of coin and paper money, and the issue of other currency
in their place. The first effect, therefore, of these measures was to
increase the existing confusion. The issue of the new coinage struck at
the Ōsaka mint also tended to obscure the situation. Though the standard
adopted was nominally a gold one, in its working it became bimetallic;
for in 1878 the Government allowed one-yen silver coins to come into
general and unrestricted circulation, a step which was tantamount to
changing the monometallic standard into a bimetallic one.
[Illustration:
PRINCE ITŌ.
Took an active part in the Government formed after the Restoration; he
was the chief framer of the Japanese Constitution and parliamentary
institutions, and founder of the Seiyūkai. His last post was that of
Governor General of Korea.
]
Meanwhile, by the establishment in 1872 of National Banks, empowered to
issue notes in a certain proportion to their capital, it was sought to
facilitate the withdrawal of the old paper money, encourage banking
enterprise on a modern system, and place matters generally on a more
satisfactory footing. At the end of four years only four National Banks,
the pioneers in Japan of modern banking, having come into existence, it
was found necessary to revise the National Bank regulations. The
revision had immediate effect. Within five years the number of National
Banks had increased from four to one hundred and fifty-one, many of
which, however, as Baron Shibusawa, the well-known banker, explains in
his chapter on banking in _Fifty Years of New Japan_, were local
undertakings of limited importance. One of the objects of the
establishment of National Banks, the encouragement of banking
enterprise, had thus been achieved. Progress had also been made in the
attainment of another object, the redemption of previous paper
currencies by the issue of Paper Money (_Kinsatsu_) Exchange Bonds and
Pension Bonds, which the National Banks were allowed to hold as security
for their note issue. But the permission given to the National Banks to
issue notes had been made use of too freely, with the result that paper
money depreciated considerably in value; and when during the Satsuma
rebellion the Government had recourse to a further large issue of notes
in order to meet increased expenditure, a further fall in value
occurred. The lowest level in the price of paper money was reached in
the spring of 1881, when it stood at a discount of over 70 per cent. The
creation of the Bank of Japan in the following year furnished the
country with a banking centre independent of the National Banks, in a
position to exercise a check on their operations, and empowered to issue
convertible notes on the basis of a specie reserve which the National
Banks were required to deposit with it; and a year later the then
Minister of Finance, Mr. (afterwards Marquis) Matsugata, introduced a
scheme for the cessation of the privilege of issuing notes given to
these banks, the gradual withdrawal of their note issue in circulation,
and the alteration of their status to that of private banks. The
adoption of these and other steps, into the details of which it is
unnecessary to enter, rendered it at last possible to effect specie
resumption on a silver basis. A Notification to this effect was issued
in June, 1885, and the measure came into force on the 1st January, 1886.
The gold standard now in existence was not established until eleven
years later.
The same year (1886) witnessed a revival of political agitation. This
had, as we have seen, died down after the failure of the first attempt
to organize political parties in preparation for the promised
parliament, and the extremist members of the now numerous party of
advanced reformers had been tempted to employ more violent methods to
attain their ends, with results already described. In September of that
year a meeting of politicians of all shades of liberal and radical
opinion was held in the Capital to concert measures for the taking of
united action. Simultaneously with this renewed activity the field of
operations was extended. Ever since the agitation had assumed a more or
less organized form the politicians conducting it had confined their
attention almost exclusively to domestic affairs. Now, however, an
important foreign question came before the public in a shape more
definite than before. This was the question of Treaty Revision.
It has already been explained in a previous chapter, in connection with
the mission of Iwakura to Europe and America in 1872 for the ostensible
purpose of obtaining a revision of the treaties with foreign Powers, how
soon after the reopening of foreign intercourse, and how strongly, the
Japanese nation resented the exemption of foreigners from Japanese
jurisdiction under the treaties of 1858; what importance was attached by
the Japanese Government to a revision of those treaties which would do
away with extra-territorial privileges; and what disappointment and
ill-feeling, as well as other unwelcome results, were caused by the
failure of the mission to persuade the foreign Governments concerned to
enter into negotiations on the subject. It will be more convenient to
give this important question a place to itself later on, when the course
of our narrative has reached the point at which the object of the
long-continued negotiations was at length successfully accomplished. For
the present it will be sufficient to mention that the question was not
allowed to drop because of the ill-success of the Iwakura Mission: that
negotiations were reopened by the Japanese Government in 1882, when a
Preliminary Conference was held in Tōkiō; that a further and more formal
Conference took place in the same Capital four years later; and that on
neither of these occasions was a definite result reached.
Such was the position of affairs when in the course of the revival of
political agitation this question, so embarrassing to the Government,
and so irritating to the susceptibilities of the nation, came to play a
more prominent part in public controversies. A national grievance of
this kind felt by all educated persons was naturally shared by
politicians. It was rendered more acute by the recognition of the fact,
now become common knowledge, that the absence of any fixed term for the
duration of existing treaties constituted a serious obstacle to their
revision. Treaty revision, therefore, became a chief feature in the
programme of political agitators, and increased importance was given to
it by the failure of the second Conference to achieve any definite
results, and by the resignation, as a result of this failure, of the
then Minister for Foreign Affairs, Count (afterwards Marquis) Inouyé,
who, as chief Japanese delegate, had presided over its meetings.
Some increase of confusion in the country, and a general sense of
instability, were caused too at this time by the pro-foreign tendencies
which for some years had characterized the policy of the Government.
Associated in its origin with a desire for the revision of the treaties
which should relieve Japanese susceptibilities, and with the
well-grounded conviction that the adoption of Western institutions, laws
and customs would enlist the sympathies of foreign countries, and thus
assist the attainment of the end desired, the movement assumed such
proportions in official and Court circles in the Capital as to lead to
the supposition that nothing less than the Europeanization of Japan was
intended. More serious than some in its character, and in its effects
more lasting, it ran its course like other similar movements, the
recurrence of which is a testimony to the impulsive character of the
people; and when it died out the process was so silent and gradual that
no reactionary wave came to swell the normal tide of anti-foreign
sentiment.
The failure in 1887 of the second Conference, which had lasted more than
a year, furnished a welcome opportunity to political agitators. The
moment was favourable for the stirring up of trouble. The renewal of
political activity was signalized by the formation of a confederation of
men of all parties, including even a sprinkling of conservatives, under
the name of General Agreement Union (_Daidō-Shō-i Danketsu_), a title
which was intended to convey the meaning that it was an association of
persons whose opinions agreed in the main and differed only in
non-essentials. It was not a political party in the strict sense of the
term, but a loose conglomeration of persons united only by
dissatisfaction with the Government. Encouraged by the birth of this new
and powerful association, the class of political rowdies increased in
numbers; the law which imposed restrictions on the organization of
political parties was evaded by the formation of secret societies; and
eventually the condition of affairs became so serious that the
Government took the strongest step adopted since the Restoration and
issued what are known as the Peace Preservation Regulations (_Hō-an
Jōrei_). These regulations prohibited under severe penalties the holding
of secret meetings, the formation of secret societies, and the
publication of books or pamphlets of any kind of a nature to disturb the
public peace. They also armed the authorities with power to arrest and
banish for three years from the district in which he lived any person
suspected of disturbing the public peace who resided within a radius of
seven miles from the Imperial Palace in the Capital.
The regulations were put into force on the date of their promulgation,
the 25th December, 1887. More than five hundred persons were arrested
and banished at twenty-four hours’ notice from the Capital and its
neighbourhood, the number including several prominent men, who
afterwards filled high positions as Cabinet Ministers or Presidents of
the Lower House. The precautions taken by the authorities did not end
here. The garrison of Tōkiō was increased, the departments of State and
the official residences of Ministers were guarded by police patrols, and
the Ministers themselves never ventured out without an escort of two or
three armed detectives. The nature of the precautionary measures taken
indicates that it was not popular disorders so much as dangerous
political trouble that was feared. That they were needed is proved by
the fact that during the year 1889 one Cabinet Minister was murdered,
while another was dangerously wounded by political malcontents.
As before, conciliation went hand in hand with repression. Three days
after the Peace Preservation Regulations were promulgated the issue of a
new and more lenient Press law encouraged the freer expression of
popular views. And in February of the following year (1888) public
opinion was further conciliated by the inclusion in the Cabinet of
Ōkuma, whose views on constitutional questions had always been in
advance of those of the Ministry which he rejoined. His return to the
Cabinet was of great service to the country at a critical time, helping
the Government to tide over an uncomfortable interval which still
remained before the promulgation of the Constitution.
CHAPTER XVIII
Imperial Authority—Privy Council—Local Self-Government—Promulgation of
Constitution—Imperial Prerogatives—The Two Houses of Parliament—Features
of Constitution and First Parliamentary Elections.
The Peace Preservation Regulations provided, as we have seen, amongst
other things, for the removal of persons suspected of designs to disturb
the public peace from areas in the Capital, and its suburbs, within a
radius of seven miles from the Imperial Palace. This mention of the
Imperial Palace shows how strong the force of habit was, and still is,
in Japan. The maintenance of “the security of the Throne,” a phrase
borrowed from the Chinese classics, was for centuries a leading idea in
Japanese administration. The expression, usually to be found in
association with another classical phrase, “the tranquillity of the
people,” recurs from an early date in all official literature, in
Decrees, Memorials and Manifestos. As remarkable as the continuity of
the dynasty, of which the nation is not unnaturally proud, this constant
solicitude for the Imperial welfare, this manifestation of what to
foreign eyes may seem a somewhat excessive degree of reverence for the
Throne, was often in inverse ratio to the authority it wielded. We have
seen, for instance, how the policy of the founder of the Tokugawa line
of Shōguns was to increase the outward respect paid to the Court by
surrounding it with an enhanced semblance of dignity, while at the same
time its authority was sensibly diminished. At no time was the
ceremonial governing relations between what was left of the Court and
the Shōgunate more elaborate than under the rule of the Shōguns of this
line; never, perhaps, was the authority of the Throne less effective.
This was, however, the effect of deliberate policy, in which may be
traced a desire to hoodwink the nation, and conceal the ambitious
designs of its rulers. When in the closing years of Shōgunate rule its
prestige declined, the reassertion of Imperial authority was accompanied
by a tendency to lay additional emphasis on the immemorial respect due
to the Throne. It was this feeling which led the Court party before the
Restoration to insist on no “treaty port” being opened in the five “home
provinces” because of the vicinity of Kiōto, where the Emperor resided.
When the opening of the port of Hiogo could no longer be withstood, the
same feeling inspired the narrowing of “treaty limits”—the name given to
the area in the neighbourhood of a “treaty port” in which foreigners
were allowed under the treaties to make excursions—in the direction of
the old Capital; now, several years later, after the personal rule of
the Sovereign had, in name at least, been re-established, we notice the
same anxiety for the security of the Throne still closely connected with
the maintenance of public tranquillity. And evidence of the same exalted
respect for the Throne will be seen in the Constitution which was
shortly to be promulgated, and in the official “Commentaries” which
accompanied its promulgation. But the unusual context in which the
indirect allusion to the Throne appeared in the Peace Preservation
Regulations showed that a further reason lay behind this mention of the
Imperial Palace. It was customary then, as now, for the official
measurement of all distances from the new Capital to be taken from a
central point in the city. This was the _Nihonbashi_, or Bridge of
Japan, situated in the centre of the old town. It being generally
understood, however, that all distances were measured from this centre,
it was considered unnecessary to mention the point. The fact that in the
present instance the point from which distances were to be measured was
mentioned at all, coupled with the substitution of the Imperial Palace
for the bridge in question, could not fail to attract attention. The
public was thereby reminded both of its duty in the matter of solicitude
for the security of the Throne, and of the Imperial authority that
supported the course adopted by the Government. Throughout the stormy
times which followed the establishment of parliamentary institutions in
Japan, the invocation of the Imperial authority, either directly or
indirectly, served as a political barometer by which the seriousness of
a political crisis might be definitely gauged.
In April, 1888, two months after the return of Ōkuma to the Ministry
with the title of Count, the Privy Council (_Sūmitsu-in_) was
established. The decree announcing its creation stated that the Emperor
found it expedient “to consult personages who had rendered signal
service to the State” in regard to important matters, thus making it
clear that the functions of the Council would be of a purely advisory
nature—a point confirmed later on by the Constitution—and that its
members would be chosen from officials of wide experience. The scope of
its duties, as defined in the rules governing its organization, covered
a wide field, including, amongst other matters, the drafting and
consideration of new administrative measures, the revision of existing
laws, amendments to the Constitution, the presentation of its views on
treaties with foreign countries and financial questions.
With functions in some few respects similar to those of the
corresponding body in Great Britain, the Japanese Privy Council fills a
larger place in the political machinery of the State and takes a more
active part in legislation, though it has no judicial functions. Even
more so than with us is it the final goal to which all public servants
aspire, and where their services are still available for the State. But
it is something else, too. It has a political influence which does not
exist in the case of our own institution of the same name; its members
are eligible for re-entry into the Ministry or for other State
employment; and they are in constant and close touch with public
affairs.
The need for something of the kind in Japan was far greater than in
Europe. To realize its necessity it must be remembered that the same
tendencies in Japan which encouraged the system of figure-head
government favoured the existence of advisory councils, whose duties
were to suggest or offer an opinion on administrative policy, the
carrying out of which was entrusted to executive officials. When the
whole system of government was reorganized on a Western basis, the
opportunity of introducing this feature of Western administrative
systems was eagerly seized, as it was felt that it would in some sense
fill the embarrassing gap caused by the disappearance of the groups of
advisers which had played so leading a part under the old _régime_.
Prompt use was made of the services of the new Council. The Constitution
had by this time been drafted, and was ready for the consideration of
the Privy Council. Accordingly, within a fortnight of its coming into
existence the new Privy Councillors were, in accordance with the duties
assigned to them, discussing the draft Constitution at a series of
meetings, to which the attendance of the Emperor gave an increased
importance.
The year 1888 was marked by the enactment of another important measure.
This was the local Self-government Act, known as the Law of Cities,
Towns and Villages (_Shi-chō-som-pō_). The first step in the reform of
local government, by which a representative character was given to it,
had been taken in 1878, when drafts of the “Three Great Laws,” as they
were popularly called, were prepared by the Conference of Prefects. One
of these, the law creating Prefectural Assemblies, came into force, as
we have seen, two years later. The operation of the other arrangements
drafted at the same time, and affecting smaller areas of local
administration, had been postponed. These now came into force in the
spring of 1889, some changes having in the meantime been made. In the
following year these arrangements, as well as the whole system of local
government, underwent further revision. The revised system then
introduced is now in operation in forty-five of the forty-six
prefectures into which Japan proper is divided, the exception being
Loochoo, known since its annexation as the Okinawa prefecture. The basis
of the present system is the separation of local administration into two
main branches, urban and rural. Each of these prefectures—three of which
(Tōkiō, Kiōto and Ōsaka) have a separate status as urban prefectures
(_Fu_), the rest being rural prefectures (_Ken_)—is now divided into
urban districts, or “cities” (_Shi_), and rural districts, or counties
(_Gun_). A rural district, or county (_Gun_), is again subdivided into
towns (_Chō_) and villages (_Son_). The classification of a town as an
urban district, or “city” (_Shi_), or a “town” (_Chō_), depends on its
population. Unless otherwise determined by the Minister of the Interior,
with whom the final decision rests, all towns of over 25,000 inhabitants
have the status of “cities,” enjoying as such a somewhat larger measure
of self-government than those not in this category. In each prefecture
there is a prefectural assembly (_Kenkwai_ or _Fukwai_, as the case may
be), and an executive council (_Sanjikwai_). Similar assemblies and
executive councils exist in each rural district and “city,” but towns
and villages, though they are provided with assemblies, have no
executive councils, the duties of these latter bodies being entrusted to
the mayors.
[Illustration:
MARQUIS MATSUGATA.
Took an active part in the Government formed after the Restoration. As
Finance Minister he carried out specie resumption on a silver basis
in 1886, and introduced the present gold standard in 1897.
]
[Illustration:
FIELD-MARSHAL PRINCE ŌYAMA.
Rendered distinguished services in the war with China, and was
Commander-in-Chief in the Russo-Japanese war.
]
The system of election to local administrative bodies is more or less
the same in each administrative unit. In prefectures where the
population does not exceed 700,000 an assembly has thirty members. Where
the population is larger another member may be elected for each
additional 50,000 inhabitants. “City” assemblies contain more members,
the number varying from thirty to sixty, the latter number being the
maximum. The _Sanjikwai_, or executive council, of a prefecture consists
of ten councillors chosen by the assembly from amongst its members. The
prefect presides, and is assisted by two prefectural officials. In rural
districts the presiding official is the _Gunchō_, or district
administrator, who, as in the case of prefects, is appointed by the
Minister of the Interior. In “cities” the mayor of the city presides,
being assisted by a deputy, or deputies, as the case may be. The chief
duty of all these assemblies is to regulate expenditure, and apportion
the taxation required to meet it. In the scheme of local taxation the
_corvée_ still occupies a prominent place, though, except on occasions
of emergency, substitutes may be provided, or money payments made in
commutation. In the election of members voting is by secret ballot. The
property qualification for electors, and for those eligible as members,
is determined by the annual amount of national, or Imperial, taxes paid
by an individual. The age qualification is fixed at twenty-five years,
the legal age at which majority is attained. The possession of civil
rights is also necessary.
The legislative activity displayed in the series of administrative
measures above mentioned shows how wide an effect was produced by the
decision to create a Parliament, to which a Constitution became under
the circumstances an essential corollary. In some cases this legislation
was the direct offspring of that decision. The new peerage, the
reorganization of the Ministry, the Privy Council, all had their
separate places in the scheme of the Constitution. In other cases the
connection, though not so close, was still obvious; for it was not
possible to make a Constitution and fit it into the existing framework
of government, put together, as the latter had been, piece by piece,
without some sensible alterations of administrative machinery. From this
point of view it will be seen that the reform of local government, and
even the institution of Court Councillors, who might be chosen to sit in
the Upper House, had a definite, albeit indirect, bearing on the
Constitution, and on the National Parliament about to be established.
The Constitution having been considered and approved by the Privy
Council, to whose deliberations on the subject an increased dignity had,
as we have seen, been given by the attendance of the Sovereign, was
promulgated by the Emperor in person on the 11th February, 1889. The
ceremony took place in the Throne Room of the newly built palace in
Tōkiō, a building of Japanese architecture, modified in some of its
features by a slight admixture of foreign designs. The Emperor and
Empress occupied daises of unequal height at one end of the hall, which
was filled with the dignitaries of the Empire, and officials of senior
grades. Seats outside the Court circle were arranged according to the
new rules of precedence. The three first places were assigned to the
ex-daimiōs of Satsuma and Chōshiū and to the new head of the Tokugawa
family, in the order named, all three having the rank of princes in the
new nobility. The head of the Tokugawa House was the cousin and adopted
heir of the ex-Shōgun Kéiki, and succeeded to the headship of the family
on the enforced retirement at the close of the civil war of the last of
the Shōguns. The dignitaries and officials present all wore modern Court
costume of European style, with the marked exception of Prince Shimadzu
of Satsuma, whose appearance in Japanese costume, with hair dressed in
the old-fashioned cue, bore witness to the ingrained conservatism of the
clan he represented. Never before in the country’s history had a scene
more impressive occurred, nor, indeed, one less in keeping with Japanese
traditional ideas. Great as had always from time immemorial been the
reverence felt by all classes of the people for the Crown, it was a
reverence tinged with political expediency, which showed itself in the
fixed policy of screening from public view the object of veneration. The
atmosphere of mystery and seclusion which surrounded the monarch had
naturally extended to the palace and its precincts, and in a still
greater degree, for reasons common to all Oriental countries, to the
person of the Imperial Consort. Now for the first time the palace was
thrown open to a gathering so large as to deprive it of any very select
or exclusive character, and the tradition of centuries was broken in a
manner contrary, not to say repugnant, to all previous ideas by the
attendance of the Sovereign and his Consort in person, the former taking
an active part in the proceedings. The ceremony, therefore, in a certain
sense symbolized the new spirit which inspired the nation, ushering in a
different order of things. Apart from the pomp and magnificence of its
surroundings, it set the seal on the new departure in State policy, and
represented the final bridging of the gulf between old and new Japan.
The speech read by the Emperor on this occasion was couched in the vague
and grandiloquent style common to all utterances from the Throne. It
spoke of the Constitution as “an immutable fundamental law,” and
described the foundations of the Empire as having been laid by the
Founder of the Imperial House and other Imperial ancestors, with the
help of their subjects, on a basis that was to last for ever, an
achievement due to the glorious virtues of the Imperial ancestors and
the bravery and loyalty of the people; and it expressed the hope that
the same loyal co-operation between Sovereign and subject would for ever
secure the stability of the fabric of State bequeathed by the Imperial
ancestors.
The Imperial Decree, or Rescript, issued on the same day as that on
which the Constitution was promulgated, and bearing the sign-manual of
the Sovereign and the signatures of the nine Ministers of State, appears
as a Preamble in the official English text of the “Commentaries on the
Constitution,” though it is not found in the original Japanese text. It
provided that the Imperial Diet (the name given to the new Parliament)
should be convoked for the first time in 1890, and that the date of its
opening should be that on which the Constitution should come into force.
The date thus fixed was the 29th November, 1890. In this Decree, which
contained a reference to the promise of a Parliament made in 1881, the
Emperor stated his intention to exercise his Sovereign rights in
accordance with the provisions of the Constitution, for the execution of
which the Ministers of State would be responsible. Stress was also laid
on the important condition that any proposal for the amendment of the
Constitution in the future must proceed from the Throne, and that in no
other way would any attempt on the part of the Emperor’s descendants, or
subjects, to alter it be permitted.
Additional solemnity was given to the promulgation of the Constitution
by an Oath taken by the Emperor in the Shintō Shrine (called the
“Sanctuary” in the English official text of the “Commentaries”) attached
to the palace. In this Oath—the second of its kind, the first having, as
we have seen, been taken in 1869—the Emperor bound himself “to maintain
and secure from decline the ancient form of government,” and, while
acknowledging the help received from the Imperial ancestors in the past,
implored the continuance of their support in the future.
The Constitution, as promulgated, consisted of seventy-six articles
divided into seven chapters, dealing, respectively, with the position
and prerogatives of the Sovereign, the rights and duties of the people,
the functions of the Diet, the relations between the Cabinet and the
Privy Council, the judicature and finance; and one of the supplementary
rules attached to it provided for its revision, a point reserved, as we
have seen, for the initiative of the Crown. Simultaneously with its
promulgation various accessory laws were enacted. These were the
Imperial House Law, mentioned in the Imperial Oath, the Imperial
Ordinance concerning the House of Peers, the Law of the Houses, the Law
of Election of the members of the House of Representatives and the Law
of Finance.
The general lines of the Constitution follow those of the Bavarian
Constitution, which was taken as the model. Its leading principles are
the small limitations placed on the Imperial prerogative and the
independence of the Cabinet, which is responsible to the Sovereign
alone, and not in any way to the Diet. No mention either of the Cabinet,
or of the Minister President, occurs in the Constitution, though they
are referred to in Prince Itō’s “Commentaries.” But Article LXXVI of the
Constitution provides that all existing enactments, in so far as they do
not conflict with it, shall continue in force. The enactment of 1885
reorganizing the Ministry comes under this rule. Consequently the
position of the Minister President, and of the Cabinet over which he
presided, remained unaltered after the Constitution came into operation.
The enumeration of the Imperial prerogatives occupies much space in the
Constitution. The chief points to be noted are that the Sovereign
exercises the legislative powers with the consent of the Diet; that his
sanction is necessary for all laws; that he is empowered on occasions of
emergency which arise when the Diet is not sitting to issue “Imperial
Ordinances” which have provisionally the force of law, but which require
the approval of the Diet at its next session, when, if not approved,
they cease to be operative; that he determines the peace standing of
both army and navy; and that the authority to declare war, make peace,
announce a state of siege and conclude treaties rests with him. All of
these matters are removed from the control of the Diet, which has also
no voice in any future modifications of the Law of the Imperial House.
The remarkable reverence for the Throne which is characteristic of the
people is illustrated by the declaration, in one of the early articles,
of the sacredness and inviolability of the person of the Emperor. This,
we are told in the “Commentaries,” is a consequence of his divine
descent. He must, indeed, it is explained, “pay due respect to the law,
but the law has no power to hold him accountable to it”—a statement
which seems to involve a contradiction in terms, for it is difficult to
understand how a Sovereign who is not accountable to law can be bound to
respect it.
Among the duties of Japanese subjects, as defined in the Constitution,
is liability to service in the army or navy. It should be explained,
however, that whereas service in the army is based on conscription
alone, recruiting for the navy is, in practice, based on the volunteer
system, supplemented by conscription. Their rights include immunity from
arrest, trial or punishment, except in accordance with the provisions of
the law; similar immunity in the matter of the entry or search of
houses, and as regards private correspondence; and freedom of religious
belief. With regard to the omission to place on record the fact that
there are two officially recognized religions, Shintō and Buddhism, one
may, after reading the explanations on this point given in the
“Commentaries,” be tempted to think that the last word has not been said
on the subject. At the same time it will be recognized that the course
adopted represents the simplest solution of the question.
The Diet, or Parliament—for Japanese writers, when writing in English,
use both terms indifferently—comprises two Chambers, a House of Peers
and a House of Representatives. The House of Peers is composed of
members of five different categories: (1) Members of the Imperial family
who have attained majority, fixed in such cases at twenty years; (2)
princes and marquises who have attained legal majority, namely,
twenty-five years; (3) other members of the nobility chosen by their
respective orders; (4) distinguished persons specially nominated by the
Emperor; and (5) persons (one for each urban and rural district) elected
by and from the highest taxpayers. Those coming under the first, second
and fourth categories are life members; those coming under the third and
fifth categories are elected for seven years. The number of members of
the House of Representatives, as originally fixed by the Constitution,
was 300, and there was a property qualification for membership. They are
elected by voters who have attained legal majority, and pay annually
direct national taxes amounting to about £1. Under the revised Electoral
Law which came into force in 1902 there is no longer any property
qualification for membership, the only conditions now being an age limit
of thirty years and the possession of civil rights. The same law reduced
both property and age qualifications in the case of electors, this
extension of the franchise resulting in the number of electors being
increased to 1,700,000; substituted the secret ballot for open voting;
and raised the number of members of the Lower House to 381, urban
districts returning 73 and rural districts 308. The large majority of
members in this Chamber have always belonged to the agrarian class. The
natural term of the House of Representatives is four years. Dissolution,
which is one of the Imperial prerogatives, applies only to the Lower
House. When it occurs, the Upper House (or House of Peers) is prorogued.
New elections must take place within five months from the date of
dissolution, the next session of the Diet becoming what is known as an
Extraordinary Session.
The Imperial House Law contains various provisions relating to the
succession to the Throne, which is limited to the male line; the
appointment of a Regent, for which post in certain circumstances the
Empress, Empress Dowager and other ladies of the Court are eligible,
and, during the minority of the Sovereign, of a governor, or guardian;
and the age (18) at which a Sovereign attains majority. A point to be
noted is the restriction of the custom of adoption in the case of the
Imperial Family, no member of which is allowed to adopt a son.
In concluding this brief sketch of the Constitution and accessory laws,
it may be well to mention a point which has an important bearing on the
practical working of the Japanese parliamentary system, namely, the
control exercised by the Diet over the Budget. This to some extent
remedies the weakness of parliamentary opposition parties—as compared
with similar parties elsewhere—which arises out of the fact that the
Cabinet is independent of the Diet. When conflicts over the Budget take
place, the Diet may by withholding supplies force a dissolution. In
these cases by the terms of the Constitution the Government is obliged
to substitute, in place of the rejected Budget, the Budget of the
previous financial year passed in the preceding session. Any new
financial programme, therefore, to which the Government may have
committed itself in the rejected Budget is consequently held up, and
cannot be proceeded with until a fresh Budget has been passed in a
subsequent extraordinary session of Parliament. This means a delay of at
least several months. The Government is, however, not necessarily always
the sufferer financially thereby, for, as Marquis Ōkuma points out in
his book already referred to, the effect of dissolutions occurring
through this cause has usually been to reduce expenditure rather than
revenue.
The first parliamentary elections were held in the summer of 1890, the
first session of the Diet taking place in the following autumn.
CHAPTER XIX
Working of Representative Government—Stormy Proceedings in Diet—Legal
and Judicial Reform—Political Rowdyism—Fusion of Classes.
The simultaneous creation in Japan of a Parliament and a Constitution
offers a contrast to the sequence of political history elsewhere. There
is no essential connection between the two. Some countries have enjoyed
parliamentary rights of various kinds before being endowed with
Constitutions. In others, again, the order of precedence has been
reversed. The fact that in Japan the two came together may be regarded
as the natural outcome of the decision of the new Government formed at
the Restoration to reorganize the general administration of the country
on Western lines. The establishment of parliamentary institutions of
some kind was the fixed idea of all reformers. The working of this
leading idea may be traced throughout the whole course of administrative
reconstruction. Reference to it was made in the Imperial Oath of
1869—spoken of by Japanese, when writing in English, as the “Charter
Oath of the nation.” It is seen in the introduction of a deliberative
element into the otherwise archaic form given to the new administration;
in the subsequent creation of a Senate (_Genrō-in_); in the creation of
prefectural assemblies in 1880; in the definite promise of a Parliament,
to be accompanied by a Constitution, in 1881; in the creation in 1890 of
smaller local assemblies on the same representative basis as the
prefectural assemblies; and, finally, in the promulgation in 1889 of the
Constitution which came into operation in the following year,
simultaneously with the Diet, signalizing the accomplishment of the
purpose in view from the first. That the Constitution, when promulgated,
was of a less liberal kind than that which had been originally intended,
and was still desired by advanced reformers, was due to the pressure of
reactionary influences already described. This, as well as the short
space of years covered by the transition from feudalism to
constitutional government, of the working of which the nation had no
experience, save what little had been acquired in connection with the
revision of local government, accounts to a large extent for the stormy
character which marked the proceedings of the Diet for several years
after it came into existence.
The final establishment of representative government was accompanied in
the same year by evidence of further substantial progress in the
direction of legal and judicial reform. The Code of Civil Procedure and
the Commercial Code were completed. Of these, the first came into
operation immediately; the latter not until eight years later, by which
time it had undergone careful revision. The law of the organization of
Judicial Courts was also promulgated, and the Criminal Code and the Code
of Criminal Procedure, which had been in force since 1882, appeared in
new and revised forms. In the preparation of all these laws, as in the
framing of the Constitution and other subsidiary measures, much
assistance was rendered by foreign jurists, amongst whom the names of
Mr. (now Sir Francis) Piggott and the late Mr. Feodor Satow may be
mentioned.
The interval of nearly two years which elapsed between the promulgation
of the Constitution and its coming into operation was a period of
increased political agitation and unrest. On the very morning of the
promulgation of the Constitution the Minister of Education, Viscount
Mōri, whose pro-foreign tendencies had caused much irritation in
reactionary circles, was murdered by a Shintō priest in the presence of
his guards as he was stepping into his carriage to proceed to the
Palace. It was to his initiative that the addition of the English
language to the curriculum of elementary schools had been due. It was
reported at the time that his assassination was the result of some real,
or fancied, slight on the part of the deceased statesman when paying an
official visit of inspection to the national shrines at Isé. What truth
there was in this rumour will probably never be known.
The resumption at this time of negotiations for the revision of the
treaties with foreign Powers led to further agitation also on this
subject. When it became known that in the new proposals put forward by
the Japanese Government the appointment of foreign judges was
contemplated, popular indignation at what was regarded as a slight to
the dignity of Japan found vent in an attempt in the autumn of the same
year on the life of the new Minister for Foreign Affairs, Count
(afterwards Marquis) Ōkuma. Though escaping with his life, he was so
severely injured by the explosion of a bomb thrown by a political
fanatic, a native of his own province of Hizen, that he was forced to
resign. Nor did the opening of the first session of the Diet have any
calming effect on the general unrest which prevailed. So serious,
indeed, was the recrudescence of anti-foreign feeling that in the spring
of 1891 the late Tsar of Russia, Nicholas II, who, as Crown Prince, was
on a visit to Japan, had a narrow escape from injury at the hands of a
policeman on duty, who attacked him with a sword. If, however, the state
of things both on the eve of the opening of the Diet, and after
parliamentary institutions were in full operation, wore a disquieting
aspect, the anxieties of the Government were lessened by the want of
unity among the various political factions in opposition. The
dissolution of the General Agreement Union, one of whose prominent
leaders, Count Gotō, rejoined the Government, showed that internal
dissensions were stronger than the motives which brought its adherents
together, and its example was followed by other equally ephemeral
associations. In the reconstruction of political parties which
subsequently took place the _Jiyūtō_ was revived under the leadership of
Count Itagaki, its numbers being reduced to very small dimensions; the
General Agreement Union reappeared in the form of an organized political
party, a character it had not possessed before, and under the changed
name of the _Daidō_ Club; while the _Kaishintō_ which had narrowly
escaped dissolution, retained its original constitution, but without its
most prominent leaders.
Meanwhile the first elections for the Diet had taken place in the summer
of 1890. The result was in accordance with what might have been
anticipated in view of the confusion of ideas then existing in the
political world, and the local feeling which stood in the way of
combined action. The members who were returned to the first Parliament
owed allegiance to ten different political groups, the most numerous of
all being the free lances, who belonged to no party and were grouped
together under the name of Independents. It was not, therefore, an
organized nor, in any sense, a united Opposition which confronted
Ministers in the Diet; but, much as they might differ among themselves
on questions of the day, the various groups were capable of forming
temporary alliances, which, owing to the uncertainty resulting from the
large number of independent members, caused no little embarrassment to
the “Two-Clan” Government which had called them into parliamentary life.
The general tone of the first House of Representatives was unmistakably
democratic.
Buckle, in his _History of Civilization_, makes some remarks on the
social conditions prevailing in France on the eve of the French
Revolution which are applicable to those existing in Japan at the time
of which we are speaking. In the latter country, however, these
conditions were the result, not the forerunner, of revolution. “As
long,” he says, “as the different classes confined themselves to
pursuits peculiar to their own sphere they were encouraged to preserve
their separate habits; and the subordination or, as it were, the
hierarchy of society was easily maintained. But when the members of the
various orders met in the same place with the same object, they became
knit together by a new sympathy. The highest and most durable of all
pleasures, the pleasure caused by the perception of fresh truths, was
now a link which banded together those social elements that were
formerly wrapped up in the pride of their own isolation.” And he goes on
to point out how the new eagerness for the study of science at this time
in France stimulated democratic feeling.
In Japan the separation of pursuits, to which Buckle alludes, had been a
striking feature of pre-Restoration days. Not only were there the class
distinctions, rigidly maintained, between the _samurai_, the farmer, the
artizan and the merchant; but two of these classes, those of the
merchants and artizans, were split up into guilds of an exclusive
character. The towns, moreover, like those of mediæval Europe, were
divided into quarters inhabited by those following the same trade, or
handicraft. The fusion of classes had begun even before the Restoration.
The first impulse in this direction had arisen out of the economic
situation which existed towards the close of the Tokugawa
administration. The distress of the farmer, and the poverty of the
_samurai_, caused breaches in the barriers separating class from class,
and notably in those which divided the two classes mentioned from the
rest of the nation. These were, however, only premonitory symptoms. The
real fusion of classes came after the Restoration, when the abolition of
feudalism put an end to the privileged position of the _samurai_,
diminishing at the same time, though not wholly extinguishing, class
prejudice. The various reforms which followed: the establishment of
schools and colleges which brought education within the reach of
everyone; the measures affecting land tenure and taxation; the
codification of laws; and conscription—to name only a few—all tended to
promote uniformity; the final factor in the process being the creation
of parliamentary institutions, which supplied a meeting-ground for all
sections of the nation, and a common field of interest for all.
An increase of democratic feeling was thus a logical consequence of the
policy of reform on Western lines, on which the Government had embarked
after the Restoration. When the Monarch and his Ministers proclaimed
with one voice their intention to associate the people in the work of
government, when local autonomy was by degrees introduced, when a
Constitution was in operation, and a Parliament in session, it would
have been strange indeed if the general stream of popular tendencies had
not set in the direction of democratic ideas. Nor were such tendencies
incompatible with Imperialist sentiment, the feeling that had counted
for so much in the overthrow of the previous _régime_. For this latter
feeling was simply a habit of mind, a passive tradition, a principle
which, so far as politics were concerned, had rarely been translated
into practice, though it formed the groundwork for a more active, if
somewhat artificial, loyalty, and an exaggerated patriotism.
With the coming into force of the Constitution the ancient monarchy
entered upon a new phase in its existence. During the long period of
Tokugawa ascendancy the Crown had slumbered, as before, in complete
security, its repose guarded by the Shōgunate. Removed from all contact
with outside influences, it was free from all possibility of collision
with the people. Although after the Restoration the severity of its
seclusion was relaxed, the personality of the Monarch made little or no
impression beyond the select inner circle of statesmen who constituted
the governing oligarchy. The representative institutions now
established, while limiting Imperial prerogatives, enabled the Sovereign
to come more prominently into view, and to be brought into direct
association with his people within the forms prescribed by the
Constitution.
CHAPTER XX
Working of Parliamentary Government—Grouping of Parties—Government and
Opposition—Formation of _Seiyūkai_—Increasing Intervention of
Throne—Decrease of Party Rancour—Attitude of Upper House.
The stage now reached in our narrative seems to be a suitable moment for
giving a sketch of the main features which marked the proceedings of the
Diet from the date of its first session up to the present time. By the
adoption of this course, instead of adhering strictly to chronological
sequence, it may be possible to convey a clearer idea of the character
and working of parliamentary government in Japan.
We have seen that the results of the first elections were unfavourable
to the Government, the majority of successful candidates belonging to
one or other of the Opposition factions. While no single party could
point to any decisive numerical superiority as evidence of the favour of
the electors, three of the groups—the _Daidō_ Club, the _Kaishintō_, or
Progressives, and the Independents—were nearly equal in numbers, the
others being much less strongly represented. Between the date of the
elections, however, and the opening of Parliament a further
reconstruction of parties took place. Both the _Daidō_ Club and the
revived _Jiyūtō_ were dissolved, to reappear in an amalgamated form
under the name of Constitutional Liberals. A Conservative Party
supporting the Government was also organized. It is unnecessary to refer
to the various party manifestos issued at this time further than to say
that they covered a wide range of subjects; reduction of expenditure,
naval and military policy, finance, questions of local government and
taxation constituting the chief points on which attention was
concentrated. Owing to the sudden changes which had altered the
constitution of parties since the elections, when the Diet met, the new
Association of Constitutional Liberals, whose ranks had meanwhile been
further strengthened by the adhesion of many independent members, became
by far the strongest party in the House of Representatives, the only two
others of any prominence being the Progressives and the Conservatives.
By the time, therefore, that the first Parliament had settled down to
business the members of the Lower House were divided into three main
groups: the Liberals, the Progressives, and a Conservative Party,
without much cohesion, which supported the Government. This grouping
has, in spite of kaleidoscopic changes occurring with bewildering
frequency, in membership, nomenclature and political programmes,
survived more or less to this day, although both the Liberal and
Progressive parties are now known by other names, while the foundations
on which they rest have to some extent shifted.
The first session of the Diet passed without a dissolution. Early in its
proceedings the question which has furnished the predominant note of all
parliamentary sessions, that of finance, came to the front. The
Opposition attacked the Budget. In the debates which ensued a crisis was
only averted by a compromise involving a recasting of the Budget and a
large reduction of expenditure. It was Japan’s first essay in
parliamentary government; the new order of things was on its trial. Both
sides, therefore, were probably disinclined to push matters to
extremities. In the remarks on the Constitution made in a previous
chapter it was pointed out that the comparative weakness of
parliamentary Opposition parties in Japan was in some degree remedied by
the control over the Budget exercised by the Diet, which could force a
dissolution by refusing to vote supplies. This is what happened in the
second session. No such moderate counsels as those which had led to a
compromise before prevailed on this occasion. The Budget was again
attacked, the attitude of the Opposition being so hostile and
uncompromising that the House of Representatives was dissolved soon
after the opening of Parliament. This was the first instance of
dissolution. The first Japanese Parliament had thus lasted for only two
years.
The history of these two earliest sessions—a record, that is to say, of
sustained conflict—is the history of many others, and, indeed, viewed in
not too critical a light, it is the history of thirty years of
constitutional government. We see the same tactics pursued by the
Opposition on each occasion, financial questions being almost invariably
the issue which is raised; and the attacks are met in one of two ways—by
dissolution or compromise. The aims of popular parties also continue
from year to year with little change. Financial retrenchment, taxation,
naval and military establishments, education, as well as constitutional
reform in the shape of party government and the responsibility of
Ministers to the Diet, all figure repeatedly in party programmes; but,
with the gradual rise of Japan to the position of a world Power, foreign
politics, and the development of national resources, come to occupy a
larger share of the Diet’s attention.
Although the conflicts which occurred between the Diet and the
Government in the first two sessions continued to be a constantly
recurring feature of parliamentary proceedings, in the course of a few
years a marked change in the relations between the Government and
parliamentary parties took place. The Government began to display more
tolerance of popular views which did not altogether coincide with their
own, while resistance to Government measures on the part of the
Opposition became less uncompromising. The reason for this change of
attitude on both sides lay in the fact that the statesmen in power had
begun to realize that, in spite of the Constitution having been framed
on the principle of the responsibility of Ministers to the Sovereign and
their independence of the Diet, as a matter of practical politics the
maintenance of this principle on too rigid lines was attended by serious
disadvantages. In other words, the position of the Government might be
rendered very uncomfortable, and the conduct of affairs seriously
hampered, by the constant antagonism of an unfriendly Diet. Consequently
from the time of the eighth session (1894–5) a tendency on the part of
one of the Opposition parties to draw nearer to the Government was
observable, and in the course of the next session the Liberals announced
the conclusion of an understanding with the Ministry, and appeared
openly as its supporters. From the original standpoint the Government
had occupied to reliance on the support of a political party was a
significant advance. Two years later the normal routine of parliamentary
government was interrupted by a still more significant departure in
administrative policy. The two chief Opposition parties, which the
Government had, as we have seen, succeeded in holding in check by
playing off one against the other, combined against it. Confronted by an
overwhelming hostile majority in the Lower House, the Ministry resigned,
the formation of a new Cabinet being entrusted to the leaders of those
parties, Counts Ōkuma and Itagaki. Since the reconstruction of the
Ministry in 1873 the direction of affairs had rested with the Satsuma
and Chōshiū clans, this policy being continued without change after the
Constitution came into operation. Now, for the first time since the year
in question, the government of the country was placed in the hands of
men of other clans. But with the important reservation that the control
of the army and navy was still confided to Satsuma and Chōshiū clansmen,
and that decisions on important questions of State still rested with the
inner circle of statesmen who guided affairs. The experiment, for such
it was, was not successful. Within a few weeks after the new Ministers
entered upon their duties serious dissensions broke out, and the
Coalition Cabinet resigned in the autumn of the same year before the
opening of Parliament, although the result of the General Elections had
assured it of a majority not less than before.
The desire to establish party government has been mentioned as one of
the aims kept constantly in view by the parties in opposition. By party
government was meant the party system of government as it exists in
Great Britain and elsewhere. It is interesting to note that, while the
Government in the building up of modern Japan went to Germany mainly for
its materials, there was all the time in unofficial circles a noticeable
undercurrent of opinion in favour of British ideas and institutions. The
establishment of party government would, of course, involve an amendment
of the Constitution, nor would it be possible so long as the principle
of clan government in its present form survived. Of this the Opposition
leaders have always been well aware, and in making the question of party
government so prominent a point in their programmes their object has
probably been to carry on indirectly a persistent crusade against the
two chief obstacles which lie in their path. Although Japanese Cabinets
are in theory independent of the Diet, they have, as we have seen, from
time to time, like German Cabinets, found it necessary to rely on
parliamentary support, the withdrawal of which has usually resulted in
the fall of the Ministry. Further than that, however, and the occasional
replacement of the outgoing Ministry by one with stronger democratic
leanings, the influence of political parties has never extended.
An event of great importance which lent a new aspect to parliamentary
affairs was the reconstitution in 1900 of the Liberal Party as the
“Society of Political Friends” (_Seiyūkai_)—a name which it still
retains—under the leadership of Prince (then Marquis) Itō, with the
avowed object of perfecting constitutional government. The Yamagata
Ministry had just resigned, and had been succeeded by a Ministry in
which Prince Itō occupied the position of Premier. Coming as it did from
one who was the framer of the Constitution, and had identified himself
with the doctrine of ministerial independence of Parliament, though he
was the first to recognize the necessity of working in the Diet with
party support, the step thus taken by Japan’s leading statesman was a
surprise to the country. Its futility in the face of existing conditions
of administration was evident from the moment his Ministry was formed,
for the control of the army and navy being reserved, as before, for the
two dominant clans, those departments were virtually independent of the
Cabinet. The new Ministry, in fact, found itself in much the same
position as that formed in 1898. Its success was scarcely greater. It
survived, it is true, one session of Parliament, but it remained in
office for only eight months, its resignation being hastened by the
hostile attitude of the Upper House. Marquis Itō was not more successful
in opposition in the next two sessions than he had been when combining
the functions of Premier and Leader of the _Seiyūkai_; and in the summer
of the year 1903 he withdrew from the party he may be said to have
created and resumed his former post of President of the Privy Council.
A feature of some importance in the prolonged constitutional struggle
which has characterized parliamentary government in Japan has been the
increasing tendency of the Government to have recourse to the
intervention of the Throne for the solution of ministerial crises
arising out of conflicts between the Cabinet and the Lower House, or out
of questions that indirectly affect the Diet. This intervention has
taken the form of Imperial Decrees recognizable through the
circumstances attending their issue as being more or less measures of
emergency. Though, as we have seen, the influence of the Throne, as a
silent factor in affairs, had counted for much in the Restoration
movement, and in the consolidation of the new Government which came into
being, the direct intervention of the Sovereign was but rarely invoked.
It was otherwise after the Constitution came into operation. The
difficulties accompanying parliamentary government rendered appeal for
the direct support of the Throne more necessary than had been the case
before, although the Government was doubtless fully aware that the
influence of the Throne must inevitably diminish in proportion to the
frequency of its invocation. The most recent instance of direct Imperial
intervention took place when the third Katsura Ministry was formed. The
grave crisis then occurring, which had defied all other remedies, was
brought about by the resignation of the previous Ministry in consequence
of the resistance of the military party to certain projected economies
in the Budget.
A very noticeable feature of Japanese parliamentary government is the
increasing tendency towards moderation observable in the political
world—shown, that is to say, at elections, in parliamentary proceedings,
and in the Press. During the earlier years of the Diet’s existence
elections were conducted amidst scenes of violence and disorder. Party
polemics both inside and outside of Parliament were carried on with an
absence of decorum and self-restraint which augured badly for the future
working of parliamentary institutions; political passions were inflamed
by the recriminations of party journals; and a new class of political
rowdies, called _sōshi_, stood ready to intervene whenever their
services might be required. Bands of these rowdies carrying wooden clubs
escorted popular leaders in the Lower House through the streets of the
Capital, and during two or three of the stormiest sessions the precincts
of the Diet presented the singular spectacle of rows of gendarmes and
police confronted by regiments of _sōshi_. The political rowdy of those
days is fast disappearing, his occupation, like that of his predecessor,
the _rōnin_, having gone; while turbulence, riotous conduct, and
intemperate writing are no longer regarded as the necessary
accompaniments of parliamentary life. One of the moderating influences
in Japanese public life has been the existence usually of a general
understanding, more tacit, perhaps, than expressed, between the
Government and people on broad questions of national policy. Another may
be found in the rapid progress of the nation. A people so busily engaged
as the Japanese have been in making up for the time lost by centuries of
seclusion is disinclined to pay too much attention to such matters as
jealousy of “clan government,” or objections to naval and military
expansion, more especially if the policy pursued in both respects is
attended with success, as in Japan’s case.
From this brief sketch of Japanese parliamentary history it will be seen
that circumstances have conspired to focus attention on the proceedings
of the Lower House. It is there that the struggles between rival
factions, and between the Diet and the Government have chiefly been
conducted, and issues involving the fate of parties and of Cabinets
decided. Although, however, the Upper House has consequently played a
less conspicuous part in parliamentary affairs, this has not been due to
any hesitation to assert its authority when necessary. It has never
shrunk from joining issue with the Lower House in regard to matters
within its competency, pushing its claims so far as to assert
successfully its right to amend money bills. Differing from the other
Chamber in its composition, in the grouping of its members which has no
relation to parties in the Lower House, and in its greater exposure,
through the class of Imperial nominees, to powerful bureaucratic
influences, the Upper House has never concealed the fact that its
sympathies are with the Government; and it was its whole-hearted support
that brought the latter safely through the parliamentary crisis of 1901
and 1902.
In view of the short interval which separated the establishment of
representative institutions from feudalism, and the unsettled condition
of affairs that prevailed for some years after the Restoration, the
nation has good reason to be satisfied with the results which have so
far attended the working of parliamentary government.
CHAPTER XXI
Treaty Revision—Great Britain Takes Initiative—Difficulties with China.
The year 1894 marks a memorable stage in the rise of Japan to the
position in the world she has since attained. It witnessed two events of
far-reaching importance: the revision of the Treaty between Great
Britain and Japan, which, though only the first of a series, practically
solved the long-pending question of Treaty revision; and the outbreak of
war with China. The new Treaty with Great Britain was signed on the 16th
July, and within a fortnight of its signature Japan was at war with her
continental neighbour. Both events, it may be noted in passing, had a
calming effect on parliamentary proceedings, the Diet then in existence,
though not actually in session, being the only one which lasted for the
full constitutional term of four years.
The question of the revision of the treaties with foreign Powers has
been referred to more than once in previous chapters. These treaties, as
we have seen, formed part of a series of Conventions concluded between
the years 1858 and 1869, which were framed on the same lines, while
their effect was rendered uniform by the “most-favoured-nation” clause
contained in each. As has already been pointed out, the features of the
treaties which caused dissatisfaction in Japan were the concession of
extra-territoriality, and the absence of any fixed period for their
duration. Revision being subject to the consent of both parties, it was
felt that Japan might be indefinitely deprived of tariff autonomy and
the right of exercising jurisdiction over foreigners in her own
territory. It was not unnatural that the Japanese Government, while
overlooking the many disadvantages attaching to foreign residence and
trade in what was a mere fringe of the country, should, as soon as it
became aware that the character of the treaties was different from that
of those made by Western Governments with each other, have taken an
early opportunity to protest against conditions which were regarded as
derogatory to the dignity of the nation, nor that it should have made
repeated attempts to secure their removal by negotiation with the Powers
concerned. We have seen how the failure of these efforts roused popular
feeling, supplied political agitators with a weapon used with effect in
the campaigns they directed from time to time against the Government,
and eventually led to a serious recrudescence of the anti-foreign
feeling of pre-Restoration days; so that by the time that the
Constitution came into operation Treaty revision was no longer regarded
as a mere matter of departmental policy, with which the public at large
had little concern, but had become, so to speak, a national question.
In view of the importance which this question gradually came to assume
in public affairs, affecting as it did both domestic policy and foreign
relations, it may be well, at the risk of some repetition, to give a
succinct account of the lengthy negotiations on this subject, asking the
indulgence of the reader, should he be taken over ground traversed
before.
Undeterred by the failure, already recorded, of Prince Iwakura’s mission
in 1872, the Japanese Government made another attempt two years later to
negotiate a new Treaty which would, it was hoped, be the forerunner of
others. The relations between the United States and Japan were at this
time, if anything, more friendly than those of Japan with other Powers.
This was to a great extent the natural result of circumstances. By
taking the initiative in the reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse,
America had given evidence of an intention to pursue an independent
policy in regard to foreign questions. Having been the first Western
Power to appear on the scene, her influence had been the first to be
felt in Japan. Moreover, her great commercial expansion being still in
its infancy, she had fewer interests to protect in Japan than older
countries. American representatives were thus spared much of the
friction with the Japanese authorities which fell to the lot of other
foreign representatives. Influenced probably by these considerations, it
was to the United States that the Japanese Government addressed its
overtures on this occasion. They were favourably received, and a new
Treaty was negotiated with little difficulty. But the Treaty remained a
dead letter owing to the inclusion of a clause providing that it should
come into operation only when similar treaties had been concluded with
other Powers.
For several years no further steps were taken by the Japanese
Government in the matter of Treaty revision. Ministerial dissensions
and the disturbed state of the country, which culminated in the
Satsuma rebellion, called for the concentration of attention on
domestic affairs. Foreign questions, therefore, ceased for a time to
be a subject of public interest. By this time also it is probable that
the Government began to realize more clearly than before the nature of
the objections entertained by foreign Powers to the revision of their
treaties with Japan; and to understand that, so far as the point of
extra-territoriality was concerned, the unwillingness of foreign
Governments to accede to Japanese demands was based on the reasonable
ground that, until some substantial evidence of progress in the
direction, at least, of legal reforms, was forthcoming, they must
naturally hesitate to make their subjects amenable to Japanese
jurisdiction. The energy and determination with which the Japanese
Government set to work to carry out legal and judicial reforms showed
that it was alive to the necessity of meeting the objections of
foreign Powers in the direction indicated. One result of the
progressive spirit displayed was, as we have seen, the promulgation of
a Criminal Code and Code of Criminal Procedure, framed in accordance
with Western ideas, which came into operation early in 1882. In the
autumn of that year negotiations for Treaty revision were reopened,
and a preliminary conference of the representatives of Japan and the
leading Treaty Powers was held in Tōkiō. No definite result was then
reached, but the ground was cleared for subsequent discussion, which
took place four years later, the Japanese Capital being, as before,
the seat of negotiations. At this second and more formal conference,
at which no less than seventeen Treaty Powers were represented, and
which lasted from May, 1886, to June, 1887, definite progress was
made. In the end, however, negotiations were abruptly broken off by
the Japanese delegates, in consequence, as was understood at the time,
of popular dissatisfaction with the proposed employment of foreign
judges in Japanese Courts of First Instance and Courts of Appeal in
cases where foreigners were defendants. In 1889 negotiations were
again reopened in Tōkiō. The proposals then submitted by Count
(afterwards Marquis) Ōkuma, as Foreign Minister, were accepted by the
American and Russian Governments; but public feeling again showed
itself hostile to the appointment of foreign judges, even on the
reduced scale contemplated by the new proposals. The attempted
assassination of the Minister who had brought them forward once more
put a stop to negotiations, and arrangements were made for the
cancellation of the two treaties that had been concluded.
On all these occasions discussion had centred chiefly round the question
of Japanese jurisdiction over foreigners. The main difficulty had always
been the same: to reconcile the natural desire of foreign Governments to
secure such guarantees in the matter of the administration of justice as
would safeguard the surrender of extra-territorial privileges with the
equally natural wish of Japan to recover the right of jurisdiction over
foreigners in her territories. And it will be seen that even when a
compromise satisfactory to both negotiating parties had been, or was
about to be, reached, the sensitiveness of the public in Japan
concerning any point which it regarded as detrimental to Japanese
dignity prevented its acceptance by the nation.
In the following year Lord Salisbury presented to the Japanese
Government in Tōkiō proposals for Treaty revision which were based on
the results achieved during the second conference, and on the general
experience gained in the long course of negotiations. These British
proposals conceded the principle of territorial jurisdiction on the
condition that all the new Japanese Codes of Law should be in operation
before the revised Treaty came into force, and offered an increase of 3
per cent in the Customs Import Tariff. The period of duration of the
proposed Treaty and tariff was fixed at twelve years, at the end of
which time Japan would recover complete tariff autonomy. The proposed
Treaty further provided for the opening of the whole of Japan to British
trade and intercourse, and for her adhesion to the International
Conventions for the Protection of Industrial Property and Copyright.
This latter provision was called for by the frequent imitation of
foreign trademarks, and the issue of cheap copies of foreign
publications. In order to avoid offending Japanese susceptibilities
careful attention was given to the form in which these proposals were
framed. It might have been expected that proposals so liberal could not
fail of acceptance. The fact that they were so far in advance of the
views regarding Treaty revision entertained by the majority of foreign
Governments implied a recognition of the progress made by Japan, and
confidence in her future, which could hardly fail to be gratifying to
the Government to which they were presented. The favourable impression
they at first produced justified the hope that negotiations might result
in an agreement on this long-pending question. Again, however, popular
agitation stood in the way of a settlement. Objection was raised to the
ownership of land by foreigners, a point which had figured in all
previous schemes of Treaty revision, and the matter was quietly shelved
without ever reaching the stage of negotiations. One explanation of the
attitude assumed by Japanese Ministers at this time may be found in the
jealousy prevailing in political circles which made it difficult for any
single statesman, or party, to gain the credit of disposing of a
problem, which had defied solution for so long. Any official jealousy of
this kind which may have existed would tend to encourage agitation on
the subject irrespective of the merits of the question at issue. Another
reason likely to influence public opinion in a nation in whose character
pride is so predominant a trait may have been the feeling that it was
desirable for the country’s prestige that proposals which should furnish
the basis of the new treaties should emanate from Japan.
Treaty revision had thus become a national question in which political
parties, as well as the Press, took an active interest, and in
succeeding years the Diet was frequently the scene of animated
discussions, which caused no little embarrassment to the Government.
Fortunately for both Government and people, and for relations between
Japan and foreign Powers, the long looked-for solution came in sight in
1894. In the spring of that year negotiations were resumed by the
Japanese Government in London. The proposals then submitted to the
British Government were practically the same both in form and substance
as the previous British proposals, the chief difference lying in the
substitution of a right of lease only in place of the right of ownership
of land by British subjects. The Japanese Government had reason
subsequently to regret this alteration, for it gave rise to a
controversy, which, on being referred for arbitration to the Hague
Tribunal in 1905, was decided against Japan. The negotiations proceeded
smoothly, and ended in the signature on the 16th July of that year of a
new Treaty and Protocol, some minor matters being regulated by an
exchange of Notes. By the new Treaty arrangements consular jurisdiction
was abolished, and the whole of Japan was opened to British trade and
intercourse. It was also provided that before the new Treaty came into
operation the new Japanese Codes should have been brought into force,
and Japan should have notified her adhesion to the International
Conventions for the Protection of Industrial Property and Copyright. It
was also agreed between the two parties that the new Treaty should not
come into operation before the expiration of five years from the date of
signature, the object of this stipulation being to allow time for the
negotiation of similar treaties with other foreign Powers. The _ad
valorem_ duties in the tariff accompanying the agreement were
subsequently converted into specific rates by delegates of the two
Governments who met in Tōkiō for that purpose.
It is not surprising that the new Treaty should have met with scanty
approval from the British mercantile community in Japan. In the wide
areas over which the interests of the British Empire are spread it is
inevitable that there should at times be some points of divergence
between Imperial policy and local views, between the appreciation of a
situation by the Government with its wider outlook and far-reaching
responsibilities in matters of Imperial concern, and by British
communities abroad. Nor was it unnatural for British residents in the
Far East, accustomed by long experience to regard extra-territorial
privileges in Oriental countries almost as part of the British
Constitution, to view with unwillingness their surrender. But there can
be no doubt that the time had come for a concession of this kind to be
made. The progress of Japan in the thirty-six years that had elapsed
since the treaties of 1858 had been attended by evidences of stability
in administration and policy which invited the confidence as it evoked
the admiration of the world. The conditions of foreign residence in
Japan compared more than favourably with those in other countries where
there was no exemption from territorial jurisdiction. Nor in any case
would it have been right, or even, under the circumstances, possible,
from the point of the position which Japan had already attained, for
Treaty revision to be longer deferred. Subsequent events have
established the wisdom of the course taken by Great Britain. It is true
that Great Britain gained little material advantage from the agreement.
But Japan had very little to offer in return for what she received.
Circumstances precluded anything in the nature of a bargain. The opening
of the whole country—already rendered accessible to travellers, and
indirectly to merchants, by means of a passport system—was of little, if
any, benefit to British commerce, which was unlikely to diverge from the
trade routes already established. But by being the first to revise her
Treaty on terms practically identical with those she had herself offered
two years before, Great Britain showed her frank recognition of the
changed conditions resulting from the steady progress of more than
thirty years. And she thereby retained her position as the leading
Western Power in the Far East, and gained the goodwill of Japan, thus
paving the way for the future Anglo-Japanese Alliance.
Lest it should be thought that in the foregoing account of Treaty
revision too much importance has been attached to it, and possibly too
close a connection traced between negotiations on this subject and the
development of Japan on Western lines, it may be well to conclude these
remarks with a quotation from a speech delivered by Viscount Chinda,
then Japanese Ambassador in London, at the Sheffield University on June
29th, 1918.
In the course of his speech Viscount Chinda said: “Perhaps no one except
a Japanese will be able to appreciate truly and fully the great
importance attached to the question of Treaty revision. For the
Japanese, however, the question was a matter of paramount importance,
connoting as it did nothing less than a national emancipation. The first
treaties of Japan with foreign Powers were signed while the nation was
still in a state of torpor from a long slumber of seclusion, and in the
circumstances amounted almost to duress.... So defective indeed were
these treaties that Japan was in effect deprived of the two essential
attributes of a Sovereign State. The redemption of her judicial and
fiscal autonomy became henceforth the dream of Japanese national
aspiration, and her policies, both foreign and domestic, ever shaped
principally with this one supreme end in view. Innovation after
innovation, often involving sacrifices of traditional sentiments, were
introduced for the purpose of assimilating the country and its
institutions to the standard of Western civilization.”
Similar language has been held by other prominent Japanese statesmen,
notably by Viscount Kato, at one time ambassador in London, and now the
leader of a powerful political party, whose experience as a Cabinet
Minister qualifies him to speak with authority on the subject.
The outbreak of war with China within a few days of the signature of the
revised British Treaty has already been mentioned. To foreign residents
in the Far East, who had opportunities of observing the relations
between Japan and China during the previous years, the event caused
little surprise. At no period of history had their relations been
cordial, except perhaps for a time in the seventh century, when China
became the model on which Japan remoulded her institutions. The Mongol
invasions of Japan in the thirteenth century had left unpleasant
memories in both countries, and relations were not improved by the
intervention of China in support of Korea when the Japanese in their
turn invaded that country. On neither side, however, was the
recollection of past hostilities allowed to stand in the way of the
customary intercourse between neighbouring Oriental States, which was
limited to the despatch at irregular intervals of complimentary
missions, and the occasional visits of Chinese traders. By the time that
Japan embarked on a policy of seclusion, in consequence of the domestic
troubles which arose in connection with the first efforts of foreign
missionary enterprise, Chinese traders had, as we have seen, established
a small centre of commerce in the south-west of Japan. There, after the
country was closed, they, and the Dutch traders, were allowed to remain,
though under conditions which deprived the privilege of much of its
value, and eventually reduced the commerce thus conducted to small and
rapidly dwindling proportions. Prior to the issue of the edict which put
an end to maritime enterprise the Japanese had shown no lack of
seafaring spirit. Even then, however, the pursuit of trade as a definite
object never seems to have attracted the nation, the visits of Japanese
vessels to the mainland of Asia being undertaken more with an eye to the
prosecution of piratical raids than the conduct of peaceful commerce.
With the reopening of Japan to foreign intercourse the situation
underwent a complete change. The establishment of “treaty ports” and the
development of Japanese trade with foreign countries had the natural
effect of drawing Japan and China more closely together, though for some
years circumstances conspired to prevent the growth of more intimate
relations between the two peoples. Much of the new commercial
intercourse between them was conducted not directly between Chinese and
Japanese merchants, but indirectly through the medium of merchants of
other nationalities, who acted as the middlemen of foreign commerce in
the Far East. Incompatibility of temperament, moreover, and of ideas—the
result of a fundamental difference in conditions of national
development—acted as a barrier between the two peoples. Nor was the
state of affairs in either country such as to favour a recognition of
the common interests which pointed to the desirability of a closer
understanding. The decay of China under spiritless Manchu rule had
already begun. Resting in fancied security on the traditions of past
greatness, and unconscious of her own decadence, she was too proud to
make advances to a smaller though near neighbour, whose existence she
had hitherto found it convenient to ignore. Japan, for her part, in the
throes of a revolution which was to usher in a new order of things, was
too busy for a time to pay much attention to intercourse with China, of
whose attitude towards herself she was, nevertheless, well aware.
It was not until after the Restoration that the relations between the
two countries were placed on a formal Treaty basis. The Treaty concluded
at Peking in 1871, on the initiative of the new Japanese Government, was
framed on simple lines, something both as to form and substance being
borrowed from the treaties in existence between the two nations and
Western Powers. By the most important of its stipulations it was
arranged that the Consuls, or “administrators,” as they were termed, of
each country should exercise supervision and control over their
nationals resident therein; that these officials should endeavour to
settle amicably all disputes that might arise between the subjects of
the two countries; and that, failing a settlement in this manner, the
questions at issue should be referred to the Consuls and local
authorities for joint decision—the latter having, moreover, the right of
arrest and punishment in all criminal cases. Trade regulations and an
_ad valorem_ tariff were attached to the Treaty, but no period of
duration was mentioned.
Not long after the conclusion of this Treaty the friendly relations thus
formally established between the two countries were disturbed, as we
have seen, by the quarrel which arose out of the ill-treatment received
by natives of Loochoo in Formosa. The adoption by Japan of Western
innovations had already given offence to the Chinese Government, which
viewed with strong disapproval this departure from the traditional
policy hitherto followed by Far Eastern States. The forcible measures
taken by Japan in connection with this incident to obtain redress caused
both surprise and irritation. These feelings were intensified by the
controversy which took place a few years later over the annexation of
Loochoo by Japan. On this occasion China contented herself with making a
formal protest. No definite understanding was effected in the course of
the negotiations that ensued, and the incident was closed by China’s
tacit acquiescence in the new situation. Thenceforth, however, the
relations between the two countries assumed a character of estrangement,
which only needed the stimulus of some further dispute to ripen into
hostility.
This further cause of quarrel was supplied by Korea.
CHAPTER XXII
China and Korea—War with China—Naval Reform—Defeat of China—Treaty of
Shimonoséki—Peace Terms.
Those who are at all familiar with Chinese history will scarcely have
failed to notice one persistent feature of it—the suzerainty that China
has either exercised, or claimed to exercise, over neighbouring States
which at one time or another have fallen under her domination. This has
been the common experience of nearly all countries whose situation on
the frontiers of the Chinese Empire has exposed them to invasion by
their restless and powerful neighbour. At the time of which we are
speaking some of these States had already recovered their independence,
which was not, however, always recognized formally by China; in others
Chinese suzerainty had been replaced by that of another Power; while in
a few instances China, in the wish to evade the responsibilities of a
protectorate, had of late years allowed her suzerainty to become almost
nominal. This last-mentioned position was that of Korea, when Japan in
1876 concluded the Treaty with that country, to which reference has
already been made. For many years previously Chinese suzerainty had
ceased to be effective, but it was still asserted by China, and
acknowledged by Korea. The despatch from time to time of missions to
Peking bearing presents, which the Chinese were justified in regarding
as tribute, the form given to correspondence between the two countries,
and the ceremonies observed on official occasions, constituted an
admission of the status of vassalage. With this acknowledged status the
Treaty of 1876 was inconsistent, since its first Article contained the
declaration that Korea was an independent State; and in 1882—when Great
Britain and America followed Japan’s example by negotiating treaties
with that country—China, with an inconsistency equal to that displayed
by Korea, weakened her own position as suzerain by making a Treaty with
her nominal vassal on the lines of those already concluded between Korea
and the three Powers above mentioned. This false step on the part of
China strengthened the attitude adopted by Japan in declining to
recognize Chinese suzerainty. At the outset, therefore, of Japan’s new
relations with Korea the situation as between herself, Korea, and the
latter’s nominal suzerain, China, was anomalous and contradictory. In
this fact alone lay the seeds of future trouble. Nor was the aspect of
affairs in Korea itself such as to offer any assurance that the
difficulties which there was every reason to anticipate would not
shortly occur.
Its condition was that of an Oriental State in complete decay. Long
years of misrule had broken the spirit of the people; the occupant of
the Throne was a nonentity in the hands of unscrupulous and incompetent
Ministers, who were supported by rival factions struggling with each
other for power; there were no regular forces, nor police, worthy of the
name; intrigue and corruption prevailed everywhere unchecked; and the
resources of the country were wasted by swarms of rapacious officials
intent only on enriching themselves.
In these circumstances the appearance on the scene of two neighbouring
Powers, each bent on obtaining a predominant influence in the peninsula,
could only result in making matters worse than they were before. The
introduction of foreign elements into the intrigues of contending
factions gave fresh force to domestic quarrels, until increasing
disorder in the country culminated in anti-foreign disturbances, in the
course of which the Japanese, against whom popular feeling was chiefly
directed, were driven out of Seoul, and their Legation destroyed. The
puppet King, accused of favouring Japan, was also compelled to abdicate,
his father, the Tai-wön-kun, one of the few Koreans who possessed both
character and ability, assuming charge of the administration. Thereupon
China intervened. Exercising her acknowledged authority as suzerain, she
sent a military force, supported by some men-of-war, to Korea to restore
order. The Korean capital (Seoul) was occupied, and the Tai-wön-kun
arrested and taken to China. This was in 1883. It was then that Yuan
Shih-kai, afterwards President of the Chinese Republic, first came into
public notice on his appointment as Chinese Resident in Seoul. For a
short time after the reassertion of her authority by China, and the
restoration of order in the Korean capital, affairs remained quiet, both
the Chinese and Japanese Governments maintaining garrisons in Seoul; but
in the following year a conspiracy fomented by the pro-Japanese party
led to the outbreak of further disturbances, in the course of which a
collision occurred between the Chinese and Japanese garrisons, the
latter, which was greatly outnumbered, withdrawing to the port of
Chemulpo.
The critical situation produced by this collision between the troops of
the two Powers in the Korean capital impressed on both Governments the
necessity, if further and more serious trouble were to be avoided, of
arriving at some understanding in regard to action in Korea. With this
object negotiations were opened early in 1885, and in the spring of that
year a convention was signed at Tientsin between China and Japan, by
which the independence of Korea was recognized. Both Governments agreed
to withdraw their forces from Korea, leaving only small detachments as
guards for their Legations, and to give each other previous notice “in
writing,” should the despatch of troops by either to that country become
necessary at any time in the future. A further stipulation provided that
the King of Korea should be asked to organize an armed force for the
preservation of order and public security, and to engage the services of
foreign military experts for this purpose from a foreign country other
than China and Japan.
This was still the position of affairs in 1894 under the _modus vivendi_
established by the Tientsin Convention. Though by that agreement China
had abandoned her pretensions to suzerainty, the rivalry between the two
Powers continued unabated. The interval since 1885 had been marked by
constant strife among Korean factions, and the prosecution of busy
intrigues between the latter and the Chinese and Japanese, to which the
growing interest now taken by Russia in the affairs of the peninsula
gave fresh impetus. The Chinese representative in Korea retained the
title of Resident, which conveyed, as was intended, the impression of
the superiority of his position to those of other foreign
representatives; and the influence of China at the Capital—exercised
through the masterful Queen, who did not conceal her pro-Chinese
sympathies—was predominant. Nevertheless, what advantage China enjoyed
in these respects over her rival was more than counterbalanced by the
political and commercial activity displayed by Japan. Proof of this had
already been given by the prompt action of the Japanese Government in
obtaining redress for the results of the disturbances of 1882 and 1884,
and by the steadily increasing volume of Japanese trade.
[Illustration:
FIELD-MARSHAL PRINCE YAMAGATA.
Distinguished himself in the Restoration campaign; took an active part
in the Government subsequently formed, in the reorganization of the
Japanese army, and in the wars with China and Russia; he wielded
throughout great influence in State affairs.
]
In the spring of 1894 the value of the arrangement under which the two
Powers had agreed to conduct their relations with Korea was put to the
test by the outbreak of an insurrection in the south of Korea. The
Korean troops sent from the Capital to quell the revolt having been
worsted in several encounters with the insurgents, the Min party, to
which the Queen belonged, appealed to China for assistance. The Chinese
Government responded to the appeal by sending troops to Asan, the scene
of the revolt, informing Japan at the same time, in accordance with the
terms of the Tientsin Convention, of its intention to do so. The
Japanese Government replied by taking similar action. The tenour of the
correspondence that ensued between the two Governments gave little hope
of an amicable settlement of the difficulty, China reasserting the
suzerainty she had previously waived, and seeking to impose limits upon
Japanese action; while Japan insisted on her right to interfere, and
supported it by reinforcing the troops she had already despatched. China
at once took similar measures, but the reinforcements sent never reached
their destination. The British vessel conveying them, under convoy of
Chinese men-of-war, was met and sunk at sea by a Japanese squadron
commanded by Admiral (then Captain) Tōgō. A day or two later the Chinese
and Japanese forces at Asan came into conflict, with the result that the
Chinese troops were defeated and were withdrawn to China. Hostilities
had, therefore, already commenced on land and sea when simultaneous
declarations of war were made by both Governments on the 1st August.
These first encounters were a true presage of what was to follow. The
war thus begun was disastrous for China. By the wide extent of her
territories, her vast population, her seemingly inexhaustible resources
and her traditions of conquest, not to mention her industrial and
commercial activities, she had for centuries filled a big place in the
world. Japan, on the other hand, was a comparatively small country,
little known, that had just emerged from a long era of seclusion, and
was regarded abroad with feelings which at the best, apart from the
interest her art inspired, did not extend beyond sympathetic curiosity.
It was quite natural, therefore, that foreigners outside Japan who knew
little of the silent progress made since the Restoration should have
wondered at her audacity in challenging a neighbour who in all respects
appeared to be so much more powerful than herself. In reality, however,
the prospects of success for China were hopeless from the first. She was
in an advanced stage of decadence. Her foremost statesman, Li Hung
Chang, and the whole official hierarchy were notoriously corrupt, the
arrogant policy the Government still pursued serving as a cloak to hide
the real weakness that lay behind. Her ill-paid army, led by incompetent
officers, was without training of a modern kind, or discipline; while
her navy was a house divided against itself, the southern squadron
refusing to fight on the ground that the war was not a national war, but
one into which the country had been drawn through the self-seeking
policy of Li Hung Chang. To the Japanese there was nothing that savoured
of audacity in confronting an adversary of whose weakness they were well
assured. Into the policy of reform which the Government had steadily
pursued since the Restoration many considerations had entered. The
course of recent events in China had been an object-lesson by which it
had profited. Having realized that a chief cause of China’s troubled
relations with Western Powers lay in her military inefficiency, it set
to work to reorganize the army. This work was entrusted to Marshal
Prince Yamagata (then a young officer), who had distinguished himself in
the fighting which took place at the time of the Restoration. He and the
younger Saigō (afterwards created a Marquis) were the chief members of a
mission appointed to enquire into military matters which visited Europe
in 1870. The results of this mission were the engagement of foreign
military instructors and the establishment of conscription, which came
into operation for the first time in 1873. A few years later the
discipline and fighting qualities of the new conscript troops were
tested to the satisfaction of the Government in the Satsuma rebellion.
In 1884 a second military mission, at the head of which was the late
Marshal Prince Ōyama, visited Europe. It was then that the services of a
Prussian officer, the late General Meckel, were secured. The improvement
in the Japanese army which showed itself from that time is generally
ascribed to the ability and energy which that officer brought to the
performance of his duties as military adviser. In consequence of the
sedulous attention thus paid for several years to military organization,
Japan, when military operations against China commenced, had at her
disposal a conscript army of over 200,000 men, with a corresponding
strength of artillery and a supply of efficient officers. Against an
army of this quality, and of these dimensions, China, who was content to
rely on troops recruited on the voluntary system, could do little, even
had she not laboured under other disadvantages already mentioned.
For obvious reasons the development of the Japanese navy had lagged
behind that of the army. The finances of the country did not permit of
any large expenditure on both services. While the feudal system had kept
alive the warlike spirit of the nation in spite of a prolonged period of
peace, the closing of the country to foreign intercourse, accompanied as
it was by the rigid limitations imposed on the size of vessels, had
stifled maritime enterprise. Japanese naval training, therefore, had to
begin with the rudiments of a sailor’s education. Service at sea did not
at first appeal to a people whose military class, before it disappeared
with the abolition of feudalism, had been brought up mainly in
traditions of land fighting. There was another reason. Partly by design,
partly, also, as the result of circumstances, the military control
exercised by the two clans which virtually governed the country soon
after the Restoration had from the first been arranged so as to give
Chōshiū clansmen the larger share of army administration, the direction
of the navy, on the other hand, being left chiefly to Satsuma clansmen,
whose intelligence and energy fell short of the standard of their
colleagues in the Government.
The same year (1872) in which the reorganization of the army began saw
the first steps taken in the direction of naval reform. In that year the
single department which had hitherto been responsible for the
administration of both army and navy was replaced by separate
departments for each of the two services. It was, as already noted, to
Great Britain that Japan turned for assistance in the measures
subsequently taken for the building up of a navy. British naval advisers
and instructors, amongst whom were the late Admiral Sir Archibald
Douglas and Admiral Ingles were engaged, and the first vessels of the
new Japanese navy were constructed in England. In 1892 the determination
of the Government to persevere in the task of creating a navy was shown
by the Emperor’s decision to contribute £30,000 annually for eight years
towards naval construction, the funds required for this purpose being
obtained by proportionate reductions in the expenditure of the Court.
When war was declared, it was the Japanese navy that struck the first
blow. It then consisted of twenty-eight ships, aggregating roughly some
57,000 tons, besides twenty-four torpedo-boats. The day of destroyers
had not yet come. The Chinese fleet at this time was stronger
numerically than that of Japan, and had also an advantage in the fact
that it included one or two ships of a more powerful class than any
Japanese vessel. But this superiority was counterbalanced by the refusal
of the Chinese Southern Squadron, for the reason already given, to take
any part in hostilities; and early in the war the portion of the Chinese
fleet which came into action showed that it had little stomach for
fighting.
Though the war lasted for eight months—from August 1st, 1894, till the
conclusion of an armistice on the 30th March in the following year—its
result was never in doubt. The Chinese troops in the south of Korea had,
as we have seen, been withdrawn to China after their defeat at Asan.
Further north the Japanese at once made the port of Chemulpo the base of
preliminary operations, and having, on the strength of a treaty of
alliance, concluded at the outset of hostilities with the Korean
Government, occupied the Korean capital, compelled the Chinese forces
remaining in Korea to retire towards the frontier. The only engagement
of any consequence in this early stage of the campaign occurred at
Ping-yang, a town occupying a position of some strategic value in the
north-west of the peninsula sixty miles from the Yalu river, which
formed for some distance the boundary between China and Korea. This
place was held in strength by the Chinese forces, and its capture by the
Japanese on the 17th September involved some severe fighting, in the
course of which a Chinese Mohammedan regiment distinguished itself by a
stubborn resistance, which was in marked contrast to the behaviour of
other Chinese troops. On the same day the Chinese northern fleet was
beaten in the only important naval action of the war. In this engagement
the two Chinese battleships, each more than a match for any Japanese
vessel, suffered little damage, but the Chinese lost several smaller
vessels, while no Japanese ships were damaged beyond repair. The beaten
Chinese fleet made its way to Ta-lien-Wan, which lies at the neck of the
Kwantung peninsula. There it stayed for some weeks until the landing of
a Japanese army close to that port, which the Chinese made no attempt to
defend, obliged it to take refuge in Weihaiwei. Thence it never again
emerged, thus leaving to the Japanese until the end of the war the
undisputed command of the sea.
The further course of the war is well known, the general control of
operations remaining, as before, in the hands of Marshal Prince
Yamagata. Nowhere were the Chinese forces able to offer any effective
resistance to the Japanese advance, their experience, whenever they
tried to make a stand, being a repetition of what occurred at Ping-yang,
where their losses, as compared with those of the enemy (6000 to 200),
told their own tale. Towards the end of October the two Japanese
divisions operating on parallel lines in Korea crossed the Chinese
frontier, driving before them the Chinese forces, which made but a
feeble resistance. The Japanese divisions (some 40,000 strong), which
had early in November driven the Chinese from Ta-lien-wan and occupied
the isthmus of Chinchou, thus severing communications between the
Kwantung peninsula and the northern portion of the Fêng-t’ien province,
proceeded to invest Port Arthur. Later on in the month a Chinese army
moving from the north was completely defeated in an attempt to relieve
the fortress. On the 21st November, Port Arthur was stormed with small
loss to the Japanese, considering the natural strength of the position,
and its powerful fortifications. Early in December the Japanese forces
operating from Korea, assisted by a third division detached for the
purpose, continued their advance, occupying successively the towns of
Kaiping and Haicheng. In the course of February and March, 1895, this
army, now under the command of General (afterwards Prince) Katsura,
pushed still further west, defeated the Chinese in three successive
engagements in the neighbourhood of Newchwang and occupied that port,
the Chinese retreating northwards along the course of the Liao river.
Meanwhile an expeditionary force despatched from Ta-lien-wan in January
had landed in Yung-chêng bay to the east of Weihaiwei, and, acting in
co-operation with the Japanese fleet, had laid siege to that place. Its
gallant defence by Admiral Ting was for China the only redeeming feature
of the war. On 16th March it surrendered, after a siege of three months,
its gallant defender dying by his own hand. The fall of Weihaiwei, and
the uninterrupted success of the Japanese armies on the Liao river,
convinced China of the hopelessness of further resistance, though she
had still large military reserves in the vicinity of the Capital. An
armistice was accordingly concluded on the 30th March. The Chinese
Government had previously made informal overtures for peace through a
foreign adviser in the Chinese Customs service, but these had come to
nothing owing to Japan’s insistence upon treating directly with the
responsible Chinese authorities. The peace negotiations which followed
the armistice resulted in the signature of the Treaty of Shimonoséki on
the 17th April. In the course of these negotiations a slight
modification in its demands was granted by the Japanese Government as
reparation for a fanatical attack made on the Chinese Plenipotentiary,
Li Hung Chang, who fortunately escaped without serious injury.
The main provisions of this Treaty, some of which were altered by the
subsequent intervention of Russia, France and Germany, were the
recognition by China of Korea’s independence; the cession to Japan of
the southern portion of the province of Fêng-t’ien, Formosa and the
Pescadores; the payment by China of an indemnity of 200,000,000 Kuping
taels—equivalent, roughly, at the then rate of exchange, to £40,000,000;
and the opening to foreign trade of four new towns in China. These were
Shasi, Chungking, Soochow and Hangchow. The Treaty also established the
right of foreigners to engage in manufacturing enterprises in China, and
provided for the subsequent conclusion of a Commercial Convention, and
of arrangements regarding frontier intercourse and trade. And it was
agreed that Weihaiwei should be occupied by Japan until the indemnity
had been paid. Under the Commercial Convention, duly concluded three
months later, Japan secured for her subjects extra-territorial rights in
China, but these were withheld from Chinese subjects in Japan. In the
following October a supplementary Protocol of four articles was added to
this Commercial Convention.
It will be seen that Japan in making with China this one-sided
arrangement regarding extra-territorial rights, which limited their
enjoyment expressly to the subjects of one of the contracting parties,
followed the example of Western Powers in their early treaties with
Japan, which were still in existence, the revised Treaty with Great
Britain not coming into operation until 1899. Apart from the question
whether this caution on her part was justified or not by the conditions
of Chinese jurisdiction, it is not easy to reconcile her action in this
respect with her repeated protests against the extra-territorial
stipulations of her own treaties with Western Powers and with the
national agitation for their revision which resulted therefrom.
CHAPTER XXIII
Militarist Policy—Liaotung Peninsula—Intervention of Three Powers—Leases
of Chinese Territory by Germany, Russia, Great Britain and
France—Spheres of Interest.
The origin of the activity displayed by Japan in the reorganization of
her army and navy, the efficiency of which was so strikingly
demonstrated in the war with China, may be traced to the military
tendencies of the two clans which had practically governed the country
since the Restoration. It was the military strength of these clans which
was, as we have seen, the determining factor in the struggle preceding
the Restoration; it was this, again, that carried the new Government
safely through the earlier internal troubles, and enabled it to pursue
successfully in the face of many difficulties its policy of gradual
reform. In the process of surmounting these difficulties, and even more,
perhaps, in the very work of reconstruction, in so far as this related
to naval and military reorganization, it was only natural that the
tendencies in question should be developed. Other influences which
worked in the same direction were the desire to attain equality with
Western Powers, to assert the independence of the nation, still
impaired, in public opinion, by offensive Treaty stipulations, and the
wish to be in a position to act vigorously in matters concerning the
nation’s intercourse with its neighbours on the continent of Asia. Even,
therefore, before the war with China something very near to a militarist
spirit had become apparent in administrative circles. The signal success
achieved by both army and navy in the course of the campaign favoured
the growth of this feeling. It became clear to all attentive observers
that henceforth the existence of a militarist party in the country was a
factor to be reckoned with in any estimate of the future course of
Japanese policy. The leading exponents of this militarist policy were,
of course, to be found amongst naval and military officers, but their
views were shared by the Japanese statesmen who had taken a prominent
part in military reforms; by others, whose declarations on foreign
policy from time to time were tinged with a Chauvinism that deepened
with the increase of Japan’s position in the world; and by a section of
the Japanese Press.
During the Shimonoséki negotiations the influence of the military party,
fresh from its success in the war, had been exerted to secure an even
larger cession of territory on the mainland than that eventually agreed
upon. The discussions which took place on this point between the
military leaders and the Japanese plenipotentiary, the late Prince Itō,
whose enemies could never accuse him of any leaning towards Chauvinism,
resembled those which took place between Bismarck and von Moltke at the
close of the Franco-German war of 1870. In this instance Prince Itō’s
more moderate views prevailed, with the result recorded in the Treaty.
Had the Japanese Government been gifted with a prescience enabling it to
anticipate the series of aggressive acts on the part of European Powers
for which its attempt to annex territory on the Chinese mainland gave
the signal, the attempt might, possibly, never have been made. Had it
even foreseen the determined opposition of certain European Powers to
the cession of even this extent of Chinese territory on the mainland, it
is probable that its demands would have undergone still further
modification. The ambition of the German Emperor to play a more active
part in foreign questions, and to secure for Germany an influence abroad
commensurate, as it seemed to him, with its dignity as an Empire, not to
mention the steps he was taking about this time to give effect to his
intentions by commencing the construction of what was soon to become a
powerful navy, had not escaped the attention of Japanese Ministers. Nor
had his warning in regard to what he described as the Yellow Peril
passed unnoticed. Of the general trend of European diplomacy they were
not ignorant, but of its special bearing on Far Eastern matters they
were, apparently, not fully aware, in spite of the indication of
Russia’s interest in Manchuria furnished by her Circular Note to the
Great Powers in February, 1895, and the warning of impending trouble
said to have been given by Germany to Japan in the following month
before the armistice was concluded. The possible extension to the Far
East of the mischievous activity of the Kaiser, the designs of Russia,
and the results which might be expected to follow the conclusion of the
recent Entente between that Power and France, were points that seem to
have been insufficiently realized.
The Treaty of Shimonoséki was signed, as we have seen, on the 17th
April. Eight days later the Russian and French Ministers in Tōkiō
presented to the Japanese Minister for Foreign Affairs (the late Count
Mutsu) identical Notes advising the Japanese Government “to renounce the
definite possession of the Liaotung peninsula,” on the ground that “its
possession by Japan would be a menace to Peking, and render illusory the
independence of Korea.” On the same day a similar Note was presented by
the German Minister. For the sudden intervention of these three Powers
the Japanese Government was unprepared. The quickness with which it
followed the signature of the Treaty, no less than the form of procedure
adopted, left no doubt as to the serious intentions of the Powers
concerned; while the association of Germany in the matter lent an
ominous weight to the protest. Convinced that this was no idle threat,
and realizing the futility of opposing a demand made by the three chief
military Powers of Europe, the Japanese Government at once gave way, and
consented to relinquish this portion of Chinese territory in return for
an additional indemnity of 30,000,000 Kuping taels, equivalent to about
£6,000,000. A Convention to this effect was signed at Peking on November
8th, 1895. It provided for the payment of the additional indemnity by
the 25th of that month, and for the evacuation of the Liaotung peninsula
to be completed within three months from that date.
The mention of “the Liaotung peninsula” in the protest of the three
Powers is the first we hear of the term. It was not used by the Chinese,
nor did it occur in the Shimonoséki Treaty. There the ceded territory is
called “the southern portion of the province of Fêng-t’ien” (otherwise
known as Shengking, and Moukden, though the latter is really the name of
the provincial Capital), the Treaty frontier (never delimited) running
roughly from Yingkow on the river Liao to the Yalu river, and to the
north of the towns of Fenghwangcheng and Haicheng. But the Chinese used
the term Liaotung, which means “East of the river Liao,” in a vague way
to signify the territory which lies to the left of that river; and
foreign geographers, in ignorance of the meaning of the term, had
applied it to the bay into which the river flows, which appears in
atlases as the “Liaotung Gulf.” When the intervention took place, it was
probably found convenient to make use in the Notes of protest of a term
already given in foreign atlases to the bay that forms the western
boundary of the territory in question. Hence the adoption of the term
“the Liaotung peninsula,” which was an error in geographical
nomenclature. Once adopted, or, as may be said, invented, the
convenience of the term led to its employment again when the
Russo-Chinese Agreement for the lease of Port Arthur was made in 1898,
though the territory then leased was limited to what is now known as the
peninsula of Kwantung. It reappears in the additional Russo-Chinese
Agreement of the same year. From that time the term seems to have passed
into general use, for we find it in the Portsmouth Treaty of 1905.
The intervention of the three Powers had far-reaching consequences, none
of which, in all probability, were foreseen at the time by any of the
Governments concerned, though each may have felt that it had established
a claim to the goodwill of China. Four months after Japan had agreed to
the retrocession of the territory ceded to her by the Shimonoséki Treaty
Russia, who had been the prime mover in the matter, proceeded to lay
China under further obligations by rendering her financial assistance
which facilitated the liberation of her territory. This took the form of
a Chinese loan of £15,000,000, floated in Paris under Russia’s
guarantee.
In January, 1896, one of the consequences above mentioned was seen in
the settlement of various questions which the French Government had been
pressing on the attention of the Government of China for some time.
These questions related to the rectification of the Tonkin frontier, and
to railway and mining concessions in the provinces of Yunnan, Kwangsi
and Kwantung. This was only an instalment of the recompense for her
services which France was to obtain. The arrangement with France
regarding the Tonkin frontier constituted a breach of the Burma
Convention of 1886, and of a later Convention of 1894, regulating the
boundaries separating British and Chinese territories, which provided,
_inter alia_, that no portion of two small States assigned to China
should be alienated to any other Power without previous agreement with
Great Britain. The dispute which arose over this question was eventually
settled—as between Great Britain and France—by the joint Declaration of
January 15th, 1896, fixing the boundary between the possessions, or
spheres of influence, of the two Powers as far as the Chinese frontier,
and arranging for all privileges conceded by China in the provinces of
Yunnan and Szechwan to the two Powers, respectively, under their
Agreements with China of 1894 and 1895 to be made common to both Powers
and their nationals; and—as between Great Britain and China—by an
Agreement signed on February 4th, 1897, modifying the previous boundary
in favour of Great Britain, and opening the West river, which flows into
the sea at Canton, to foreign trade.
Russia was the next to profit. She had already decided in 1892 to
construct what is now the Trans-Siberian Railway with the object of
linking up the eastern and western extremities of the Empire, and thus
aiding the development of Siberia, as well as strengthening her position
on the Pacific coast. The line, as then projected, was to run from
Chiliabinsk in the Ural Mountains to the south-western shore of Lake
Baikal, and from the south-eastern shore of the lake to Vladivostok,
following for some distance the course of the Amur river; communication
across the lake to be maintained by vessels specially constructed for
the purpose. Work was commenced at both ends of the railway, and when
the Shimonoséki Treaty was signed the line had been finished as far east
as Chita, a town south-east of Lake Baikal, and within two hundred miles
of the Chinese frontier.
The war between China and Japan had served a useful purpose for Russia
in revealing both the weakness of China and the strength and ambitions
of Japan. To check these ambitions in the direction of Manchuria, and
forestall Japan by establishing herself in the coveted territory, was
the task to which she now directed her energies. In the preliminary step
by which the retrocession of the Liaotung peninsula was effected she
was, as we have seen, aided by both France and Germany. Between the
latter and herself some sort of roughly formulated understanding seems
to have been arrived at, described by Reventlow in his _Deutschland’s
Auswärtige Politik_ as a secret agreement between the Kaiser and the
Tsar, the results of which were to be seen later. With France she worked
throughout in the closest accord in the development of the new line of
policy she had marked out for herself in the Far East, to which Belgian
financiers also lent their co-operation. In return for Russia’s support
in European affairs, as arranged by the Entente concluded between the
two countries, France, for her part, was only too willing to encourage
Russian aims in the Far East; and she was the more ready to do so, since
this course assured her of reciprocal help in the prosecution of her own
interests in China. Russia had been the connecting link between the
three Powers whose intervention had restored the Liaotung peninsula to
China. It was the relations she continued to maintain with her two
associates after that incident—in the one case an informal
understanding, in the other definite concerted action—which shaped the
course of subsequent events in the Far East.
In _Ma Mission en Chine_, M. Gérard, who was French Minister in Peking
during the period 1893–7, gives an account of the secret negotiations
with China by means of which Russia succeeded in forestalling Japan in
Manchuria. His book supplies the key to a correct understanding of the
course of events, and throws much light on the political situation at
the time of which he speaks. We learn how close was the accord then
maintained between France and Russia; how skilfully Russia made use of
the complaisant attitude of her two associates; and with what
unscrupulous determination to compass her ends she traded on the
weakness of China, on the claims she had established on the latter’s
goodwill, and on the vanity and corruption of Chinese officials.
In May, 1896, according to M. Gérard, a secret Treaty was signed at St.
Petersburg by Prince Lobanoff, then Minister for Foreign Affairs, and Li
Hung Chang, Viceroy of Chihli, who had been sent to Russia as China’s
representative at the Coronation of the late Tsar Nicholas II. The full
text of this Treaty has never been published, but it promised to China
Russian protection against Japan; China, in return for this guarantee of
assistance, granting to Russia the privilege of using, in time of war,
the harbours of Ta-lien Wan, in the Kwantung peninsula, and Kiaochow, in
the province of Shantung, as bases for her fleet. Three months later
(August 27th) a secret Railway Agreement was signed at St. Petersburg by
Li Hung Chang and the representatives of the Russo-Chinese Bank. This
institution, half the capital of which was French, had been created at
the end of the previous year. M. Gérard explains that, in consequence of
so large a portion of the bank’s capital being furnished by a French
syndicate, the French Government insisted on receiving definite
information regarding the negotiations in question. His statements
regarding the French financial interest in the Russo-Chinese Bank are
confirmed by other writers: by Chéradame, in his interesting book, _Le
Monde et La Guerre Russo-Japonaise_, and by Débidour in _Histoire
Diplomatique de l’Europe_. We learn also from M. Gérard that the Chinese
Government had contributed, under the title of a deposit, 5,000,000
taels to the capital of the bank, explaining at the time, in answer to
enquiries, that this sum represented China’s share of the cost of
construction of the Chinese Eastern Railway; that for the building of
this line a company called the Chinese Eastern Railway Company was
formed, which, although Russo-Chinese in name, was a purely Russian
concern; and that it was agreed that on the completion of the line in
question the sum “deposited” by China should be returned to her. He adds
that the President of the bank was Prince Ouchtomsky, who afterwards
visited Peking at the head of a Russian Mission.
Both the Treaty and the Railway Agreement were ratified by the Chinese
Government on the 18th September, and came into force on that date. The
popular rumour which credited the Russian Minister in Peking with the
negotiation of these two instruments was, it appears, due to the
presence of M. Cassini at the Chinese Capital, where it was considered
necessary for him to remain in order to secure their ratification by
China. As a glance at a map of North-Eastern Asia will show, the Railway
Agreement constituted a concession of the greatest importance to Russia.
The Chinese Eastern Railway, the name of the new line which Russia
obtained leave to construct, became the eastern section of the
Trans-Siberian Railway, connecting Lake Baikal with Vladivostok,
Russia’s outlet to the Pacific. The new line, which would traverse
Northern Manchuria via Kharbin, Tsitsihar and Hailar, would shorten the
distance by more than 300 miles. Moreover, the more level country
through which the line was to pass presented few engineering
difficulties, as compared with the Amur route, a fact which would
greatly diminish the period and the cost of construction. The Agreement
was subsequently rendered complete in every detail by the elaboration of
what were termed the Statutes of the Chinese Eastern Railway. These were
confirmed by the Tsar on the 4th December in the same year. Although
these Statutes (given in Rockhill’s _Treaties and Conventions_) provided
that the President of this railway company should be Chinese, the
stipulation was purely nominal. The Chinese Eastern Railway, like the
Russo-Chinese Bank, was an exclusively Russian undertaking, the raising
of the capital required, as well as the construction of the line, being
entirely in Russian hands.
Meanwhile the Kaiser, who personally directed the foreign policy of
Germany, was forming plans for claiming his share of reward for the
triple intervention, and he had, it appears, already approached the
Peking Government on this subject, though without any success. What,
assuming its existence, was the nature of the understanding arrived at
between the Courts of St. Petersburg and Berlin in regard to Far Eastern
affairs will probably remain for ever a State secret. In any case,
however, it is clear, from his own repeated declarations as to Germany’s
need for “a place in the sun,” and from the proceedings of the German
Minister at Peking, that he was bent on obtaining a foothold of some
sort in China, whence Germany’s future expansion in the Far East might
be conveniently developed. His opportunity came in 1897. In the autumn
of that year two German missionaries were murdered in the province of
Shantung. A few weeks later a German force landed in that province at
Kiaochow, one of the two harbours the use of which in time of war Russia
had acquired eighteen months before under her secret Treaty with China.
M. Gérard in his book above mentioned states that the German Emperor had
before the departure of the German ships on this errand informed the
Tsar by telegraph of his intentions, and, receiving no reply objecting
to the proposed step, took the Tsar’s silence for consent. Germany’s
occupation of this strategic position, which had the further advantage
of being in a region of the Chinese mainland sufficiently distant from
points where other foreign interests were centred to obviate objections
on the part of other Powers, and, at the same time, ensure an ample and
undisturbed field for German enterprise, was confirmed by a Treaty
concluded with China on March 6th, 1898. By this Treaty China granted to
Germany a lease for ninety-nine years of the port of Kiaochow and a
considerable stretch of “hinterland.” Germany also acquired under it
certain rights of railway construction in the neighbourhood of the port.
The author of _Japan: The Rise of a Modern Power_, tells us, on the
authority of a statement said to have been made by Prince Henry of
Hohenzollern, that the Kaiser’s next step was to invite the Tsar to take
Port Arthur and Ta-lien Wan. Whatever truth there may be in the
statement attributed to Prince Henry—M. Gérard thinks the suggestion may
have been made in the telegram announcing his own intentions—the fact
remains that Germany’s abrupt action resulted in an immediate scramble
on the part of several European Powers for various portions of Chinese
territory. Russia led the way in these undignified proceedings, for
which a harsher word might with justice be substituted. Two months after
the occupation of Kiaochow by Germany, Russian men-of-war anchored in
Port Arthur. Thither they were followed by British cruisers, and for a
moment it looked as if history would repeat itself, and that Russia
might have to reckon with British interference in her designs. Other
counsels, however, prevailed. The British ships were withdrawn, and on
March 27th, three weeks after the conclusion of the Kiaochow Agreement,
a similar Treaty was signed at Peking by Li Hung Chang and the Russian
Chargé d’Affaires. This Treaty, the text of which was not published by
the Russian Government, provided for the lease to Russia of Port Arthur,
Ta-lien Wan and adjacent waters for a period of twenty-five years,
renewable by arrangement at the expiration of the term. It was further
agreed that the right to construct the Chinese Eastern Railway across
Northern Manchuria, secured by Russia under the secret Railway Agreement
of August 27th, 1896, should be extended so as to include the
construction of branch lines from a point on that railway to Ta-lien Wan
and other places in the Liaotung peninsula. The Treaty also provided for
a subsequent definition of the boundaries of the leased area and—a point
of some importance in the light of after events—of a neutral strip of
territory separating the Chinese and Russian spheres. Port Arthur,
moreover, was declared to be a naval port, and as such closed to all
vessels save those of the two contracting parties. Subsequently, on May
7th, a supplementary Agreement, signed at St. Petersburg, defined the
boundaries of the leased area, and arranged for their delimitation.
It was not long before France, whose services to China at the time of
the triple intervention had, as we have seen, already met with
recognition in the shape of the prompt settlement of various outstanding
questions, obtained, in her turn, a territorial concession of the same
nature—though, perhaps, not so important—as those granted to Germany and
Russia. By a Convention signed at Peking on May 27th, 1898, China
granted to her a ninety-nine years’ lease for the purpose of a naval
station and coaling depôt of the Bay of Kwang-chow and adjacent
territory in the peninsula of Leichow, together with the right to
construct a railway connecting the bay with the peninsula. The area of
this concession was in the province of Kwangsi, which adjoins the French
territory of Tonkin.
Unlike the three Powers associated in the triple intervention, whose
subsequent action justifies the supposition that they regarded
themselves as brokers entitled to a commission for services rendered,
Great Britain had no special claim on the goodwill of China.
Nevertheless, she joined in the scramble for Chinese territory. A
Convention, signed at Peking on June 9th, 1898, gave her an extension of
territory at Hongkong under lease for a period of ninety-nine years, the
reason assigned for the concession being that this extension was
necessary for the proper protection and defence of that colony. Three
weeks later (July 1st), by another Convention, signed also at Peking, it
was agreed that the Chinese Government, “in order to provide Great
Britain with a suitable naval harbour and for the protection of British
commerce in the neighbouring seas,” should lease to her Weihaiwei and
the adjacent waters “for so long a period as Port Arthur shall remain in
the occupation of Russia.” The area thus leased comprised the island of
Liu-kung, and all other islands in the bay of Weihaiwei.
In defence of Great Britain’s action it may fairly be pleaded that her
interests in China, and in the Far East generally, which were more
extensive than those of any other Power, with the possible exception of
Japan, made it necessary for her Government to take prompt measures to
counteract the effect of any proceedings on the part of other Powers
which might be prejudicial to those interests. The political situation
created in the Far East by the actions of the three Powers associated in
the triple intervention was the reverse of reassuring. Russia’s
occupation of Port Arthur was in direct contradiction to the grounds of
the joint protest against the annexation of the Liaotung peninsula by
Japan. Neither with France nor with Russia at that time were our
relations what they afterwards became. Between British and Russian
policy there was a scarcely veiled antagonism, while the French and
ourselves had long been rivals in China, as elsewhere. The concerted
action of these two Powers, not to speak of their support by a third,
whose exact relation to her associates was dubious, was thus calculated
to give rise to apprehensions which would doubtless have been increased
had British Ministers then known all that has since come to light.
Additional gravity was given to Germany’s sudden appearance on the scene
in a new rôle by, to use M. Gérard’s words, her “occupation by force and
at a moment of complete peace of a port belonging to the Empire the
integrity of whose territory she claimed to have safeguarded against
Japan.” Under these circumstances the British Government may well have
felt that it was justified in regarding these proceedings as fraught
with possibilities of injury to British interests and prestige, and in
adopting what in the light of these occurrences might reasonably be held
to assume the character of precautionary measures. Such, beyond a doubt,
was the general interpretation given by impartial observers to Great
Britain’s action in arranging for her occupation of Weihaiwei. It was,
as the terms of the Agreement clearly indicated, a direct counter-move
to Russia’s occupation of Port Arthur. As such it was welcomed by Japan,
who, when the time for the evacuation of Weihaiwei arrived, willingly
handed it over to the Power who was shortly to become her ally.
CHAPTER XXIV
American Protest against Foreign Aggression in China—Principle of “Open
Door and Equal Opportunity”—Financial Reform—Operation of Revised
Treaties—The Boxer Outbreak—Russia and Manchuria.
In addition to the various Agreements for the occupation of Chinese
territory mentioned in the preceding chapter, negotiations were
conducted with the Chinese Government about the same time by the
European Powers concerned, and also by Japan, for the purpose of
obtaining Declarations regarding the non-alienation by China of certain
territories which were regarded by them as coming, respectively, within
their special spheres of interest. As a result of these negotiations the
French Minister at Peking received in March, 1897, a verbal assurance,
confirmed later in writing, that the Chinese Government would “in no
case, nor under any form, alienate to another Power the island of Hainan
off the coast of the province of Kwantung.” In February, 1898, a similar
Declaration concerning the riverain provinces of the Yangtse was made to
Great Britain. In the following April the assurance previously given to
France was extended so as to include the three southern provinces of
Yunnan, Kwangsi and Kwantung bordering on Tonkin; while Japan in the
same month received an assurance of a corresponding nature regarding the
province of Fukien, the Chinese Government signifying its intention
“never to cede or lease it to any Power whatsoever.” In thus obtaining
from China a Declaration of non-alienation respecting the province of
Fukien, similar to those given to Great Britain and France regarding
other portions of Chinese territory, Japan established her claim to rank
as one of the leading Powers in the Far East, a position which, as will
be seen, received further recognition in the following year. Her success
in this respect—due to her victory in the war with China, and to the
alteration in her status as a nation which resulted from the conclusion
of revised treaties with several foreign Powers—was rendered the more
noticeable by the failure of Italy, after prolonged negotiations, to
gain China’s consent to a territorial concession similar to those
granted to other European Powers.
The years 1898 and 1899 witnessed the negotiation by European Powers
with each other of two other arrangements relating to China of a
somewhat different character. One of these was the Declaration made by
Great Britain to Germany on April 19th, 1898, binding herself not to
construct any railway connecting Weihaiwei, and the adjoining leased
territory, with the interior of the province of Shantung. The other was
the Agreement, effected through an exchange of Notes at St. Petersburg
on April 28th, 1899, by which the British and Russian Governments
recorded their intention to regard, for the purpose of railway
concessions, the basin of the Yangtse and the region north of the Great
Wall as the special spheres of interest of the two Powers, respectively,
confirming, at the same time, the understanding arrived at between them
in regard to the railway between Shanhaikwan and Newchwang.
The outbreak of war between the United States and Spain in the spring of
1898 led to the introduction of a new factor into the situation created
in the Far East by the events above described. One of the results of the
war was the cession of the Philippine Islands to America, who had
already, by annexing Hawaii, secured a stepping-stone across the
Pacific. By the acquisition of these former Spanish possessions, which
provided her with a naval base in the Eastern Pacific for the protection
of her commerce in Far Eastern waters, America’s attitude towards Far
Eastern questions was at once affected. Hitherto in her relations with
the Far East—with China, Japan and Korea—she had maintained a detached
attitude in keeping with her traditional policy of non-interference in
foreign questions. In China, where she came late into the field, she had
been content to follow, at a distance, in the wake of other Powers;
sharing in whatever commercial or extra-territorial privileges might be
obtained, but never breaking the ice for herself, nor—to her credit, be
it said—betraying any aggressive tendencies. As the pioneer of Western
nations in putting an end to the seclusion of Japan and Korea, she had
opportunities for exercising a powerful influence, of which her
traditional policy forbade her to make full use. Regarding both
countries somewhat in the light of protégés, her policy in respect to
each soon settled down into one of benevolent inaction, varied only by
occasional half-hearted opposition to the less complaisant policy of
other Governments, whenever the duty of a patron, so to speak, seemed to
call for her interposition. We have seen how she was thus led on two
occasions in the matter of Treaty revision into a premature
encouragement of Japanese ambitions, which was the cause of
embarrassment both to herself, and to the nation whose wishes she was
willing to further. The course thus pursued by America, which precluded
concerted action with other Powers, was in some respects simply an
extension to the Far East of the policy she had previously adopted in
regard to European questions. Well as the traditional principle of
holding aloof from affairs outside of the American continent, through
fear of political entanglements, may have suited the conditions of her
earlier existence as a nation, a too rigid adherence to this principle,
when those conditions were fast disappearing, might lead to consequences
more unpleasant than those she sought to avoid. An attitude of
detachment carried too far might result in her exclusion from a voice in
the regulation of matters of international interest. Towards some such
position America appeared to be drifting, when, to borrow the phrase
used by Mr. Hornbeck in _Contemporary Politics of the Far East_, she
suddenly “stumbled into World Politics” through her occupation of the
Philippines. From that moment her political isolation was ended. She
began to take a more active and intelligent interest in Far Eastern
questions, though the reluctance to abandon her traditional policy,
which was still noticeable in her action when she did move, was liable
to be mistaken for timidity.
The territorial concessions obtained, one after the other, by Germany,
Russia, France and Great Britain, and the ear-marking of other Chinese
territory by arrangements made either by the Powers concerned, as well
as by Japan, with China, or by certain of those European Powers between
themselves, caused uneasiness in Washington. There was a fear lest the
new activity displayed by various Governments might result in the
closure, or restriction, of Chinese markets hitherto open to all
countries, in which case serious injury might accrue to American
commerce and enterprise. The apprehension was not unfounded, even so far
as the Declarations regarding the non-alienation of Chinese territory
were concerned. Although the actual wording of these Declarations did
not of itself justify an inference of this nature, from the fact that
they were made at all it was generally held that their effect was to
establish, in each instance, a sort of priority of right—a position of
exceptional advantage in favour of the Power to whom the Declaration was
made. The inference derived support from the vagueness of the term
“spheres of interest” applied to the regions affected by the
Declarations in question, and was also strengthened by the common
impression formed at the time that this ear-marking of Chinese territory
portended an eventual partition of China. This seems to have been the
view taken by the United States Government.
In September, 1899, the American Secretary of State addressed Circular
Notes to the British, French, German and Russian Governments, expressing
the hope that they would “make a formal declaration of an ‘open door’
policy in the territories held by them in China.” An assurance was
sought from each Power: that it would “in no way interfere with any
treaty port or any vested interest within any so-called sphere of
interest, or leased territory, it might have in China”; “that the
Chinese Treaty tariff of the time being should apply to all merchandise
landed or shipped to all such ports as are within the said ‘sphere of
interest’” ... and “that duties so leviable should be collected by the
Chinese Government”; and that it “would levy no higher harbour dues on
vessels of another nationality frequenting any port in such ‘sphere’
than should be levied on vessels of its own nationality, and no higher
railroad charges over lines built, controlled or operated within its
‘sphere’ on merchandise belonging to citizens or subjects of other
nationalities transported through such ‘sphere’ than should be levied on
similar merchandise belonging to its own nationals transported over like
distances.” In the following November similar, though not identical,
Notes were addressed to the Governments of France, Italy and Japan,
asking them to join in these formal declarations of policy.
The reason for the distinction thus made both in the dates and tenor of
the two series of communications may, perhaps, be found in the fact that
the territories leased by the three first-named Powers, besides their
greater strategic importance, were situated in a part of China where
American interests were more closely concerned than in the region
further south affected by French action, and that Japan, though
interested in the Declaration regarding Fukien, had neither sought nor
obtained any cession of territory; while Italy had failed in her
endeavour to emulate the example of her nearest continental neighbours.
The assurance received from China by Japan regarding the non-alienation
of the province of Fukien was, as we have seen, in effect, an admission
of the position of power and influence she had by this time acquired.
Her inclusion in the list of States consulted by America on this
occasion was indirectly an endorsement of this admission, and is the
first public recognition of her new status as a leading Power in the Far
East.
Favourable replies were received from all the Powers consulted; each,
however, with the exception of Italy, making the reservation that assent
to the proposals was subject to the condition that all the Powers
interested should participate in the Declarations. Thereupon, in March,
1900, the American Secretary of State sent instructions to the American
representative at each of the capitals of the Powers consulted to inform
the Government to which he was accredited that, in his opinion, the six
Powers in question and the United States were mutually pledged to the
policy of maintaining the commercial _status quo_ in China, and of
refraining, each within what might be considered its sphere of
influence, “from measures calculated to destroy equality of
opportunity.”
The Notes thus exchanged between the United States and the six other
Powers above mentioned explain the origin, as they also constitute “the
formal basis” (to use Mr. Hornbeck’s words) of what has ever since been
known as the policy of the “Open door and equal opportunity” in China.
The latter part of the phrase was afterwards used in the Anglo-Japanese
Treaty of Alliance to designate the policy of Great Britain and Japan in
Korea as well as in China. To the former country, now annexed to Japan,
it no longer applies; but the policy has theoretically, if not always
practically, been in force as regards China, for the last twenty-one
years, and there is reason to think that more may yet be heard both of
the phrase, and of the policy it represents, in connection with affairs
in China, and possibly in other parts of Eastern Asia.
In touching on the subject of financial reform in a previous chapter
attention was called to the monetary confusion which existed after the
abolition of the feudal system, when the new Government which had come
into power found itself saddled with clan debts and with clan paper
money, mostly depreciated and of many different kinds. It was pointed
out how, as a natural consequence of this monetary confusion and of
financial embarrassments due to other causes, the monetary transactions
of the country were for many years conducted on the basis of an
inconvertible paper currency; and how by successive steps, taken as
opportunity offered, to remedy this state of things, specie resumption
on a silver basis was at length effected in 1886.
It was not till eleven years later, in 1897, that Japan adopted her
present gold standard. The reasons for this step are given in the
chapter on Finance contributed to Marquis Ōkuma’s book, already
mentioned, by Marquis Matsugata, who also explains the means by which it
was accomplished.
“When,” says this authority on Japanese financial matters, “the
Government opened places for the redemption of paper money in 1886,
silver coins only were offered in exchange. Such being the case, the
currency of Japan at that time was based practically on a silver
standard, although legally the system was bimetallic. The price of
silver, however, owing to various reasons, gradually fell, and
artificial checks to its fall were effective only for a short time.
Fluctuation after fluctuation in foreign exchange seemed to follow each
other in endless succession. In the meantime Western countries commenced
to adopt gold monometallism. Our authorities knew very well that, to
insure a healthy growth of finance, Japan must adopt, sooner or later, a
monometallic gold standard, and this was impressed on the minds of
financiers so keenly that the Government determined to effect the reform
as soon as possible. The desired opportunity came with the Peace Treaty
of 1895, when China began to pay to our country an indemnity of
200,000,000 taels” [_sic_ the amount was really 230,000,000 taels].
“Further negotiations between our Government and the Chinese authorities
resulted in the payment of the indemnity, not in Chinese money, but in
pounds sterling. This was important, since a large gold reserve was
indispensable for the establishment of gold monometallism.”
The experience of 1886, referred to by Marquis Matsugata, proved that
confidence in the Government’s ability to meet its obligations in paper
money was all that was needed. This confidence once established, no
further difficulty presented itself in the passage from an inconvertible
to a convertible paper currency. Prepared for heavy calls on the specie
resources of the Treasury, the Government had on that occasion
accumulated a reserve of £5,000,000. When, at the end of a few days
after the date fixed for the resumption of specie payments, the demand
for specie ceased, it was found that the total value of notes presented
for conversion did not exceed £30,000. The change from a silver to a
gold standard in 1897 was conducted with equal facility, a large portion
of the Chinese indemnity being transferred abroad. There it served a
useful purpose in maintaining Japan’s financial credit, and, as a
natural consequence, the market price of the Bonds of her numerous
foreign loans, which for several years, to the surprise of private
investors, were quoted at higher rates abroad than at home.
The year 1899, when the revised treaties came into operation, marked a
fresh stage in the progress of Japan towards attaining a footing of
equality with Western Powers—the aim which her statesmen had set before
themselves ever since the Restoration, and which had in so many ways
been the guiding principle of both domestic and foreign policy. With the
object of allowing time for the negotiation of similar treaties with
other foreign Powers, the revised British Treaty, signed in London in
1894, had, as already mentioned, provided that it should not come into
force until five years after the date of signature. Before the
expiration of the period named similar treaties had been concluded with
all the other Powers concerned, those with France and Germany containing
a few modifications of minor importance. In the meantime, moreover, the
conditions specified in the Treaty regarding the new Japanese Codes and
Japan’s adhesion to the International Conventions concerning Copyright
and Industrial Property had been fulfilled. The way was thus cleared for
the operation of the new revised treaties, which, accordingly, came into
force on the 17th July, 1899, the earliest date possible. Though in
these new treaties, recognizing the territorial jurisdiction of Japan,
the stipulation of previous conventions which chiefly offended Japanese
susceptibilities found no place, she still remained bound for a further
period of twelve years—the term of the revised treaties—by a tariff of a
unilateral character. Only when that period expired would she recover
full tariff autonomy and be free to negotiate reciprocal treaties with
the various Powers concerned on a footing of complete equality. This
opportunity came to her in 1911, and she at once availed herself of it.
In the spring of the following year (1900) what is known as the Boxer
Rising took place. In its inception it was a protest against missionary
enterprise. As it developed, it became the expression of a feeling of
exasperation among the official and lettered classes of Northern China
engendered by the action of European Powers in occupying under the guise
of leases various portions of Chinese territory in that region. During
the previous autumn a society called I-Ho-C’uan (Patriot Harmony Fists)
had been formed in the province of Shantung. Its formation was
encouraged by the reactionary tendencies which made their appearance
about this time at Peking, where the Empress Dowager, after the
successful _coup d’état_ by which she had crushed the ill-conducted
reform movement in 1898, was again in power. The magical powers claimed
by its members produced on the ignorant masses an impression that was
heightened by the incantations they performed. As the movement grew, it
attracted the attention of the Governor of the province, who supported
it with, apparently, the twofold idea of utilizing it against foreign
aggression, and gaining favour at Court. As a result of his outspoken
sympathy the Boxer movement assumed formidable dimensions. Though
eventually, through the energy of Yuan Shih-k’ai, who was at one time,
as we have seen, Chinese Resident in Korea, order was restored in
Shantung, the movement spread northwards towards Peking. There, as Mr.
Campbell explains in the China Handbook prepared under the direction of
the Foreign Office, it gained the powerful support of the ignorant and
reactionary statesman Prince Tuan, the selection of whose son as
Heir-Apparent to the Throne gave him a commanding influence in the
councils of the Empire. In April, 1900, bands of Boxers were drilling in
the outskirts of the Capital, their appearance in every district they
invaded being accompanied by murders of missionaries and massacres of
native converts. Some weeks later the situation became so threatening
that arrangements were made for bringing up to Peking small contingents
of foreign troops for the protection of the Legations and such portion
of the foreign community as still remained. These guards arrived
opportunely at the end of May, by which time swarms of Boxers infested
the Capital, and the Legations were practically isolated. Prince Tuan
chose this moment for openly espousing the Boxer cause. This step on his
part was followed by the murders of the Chancellor of the Japanese
Legation and the German Minister, the two outrages occurring within a
few days of each other. The subsequent course of events is well known:
the storming of the Taku forts (June 16th); the siege of the Legations
by Chinese troops and Boxers; the failure of Admiral Seymour’s attempt
to re-establish communications with the Capital; the equipment of
foreign expeditionary forces to operate against Peking; the issue of an
Imperial Decree ordering a general massacre of foreigners in the Chinese
dominions; the attack on the foreign settlements at Tientsin; the
arrival of Russian and British reinforcements, and the taking of
Tientsin city (July 14th); the relief of the Legations, and occupation
of the Chinese capital on the 13th and 14th August by the allied forces;
and the flight of the Chinese Court to Sian-fu, the ancient capital in
the province of Shensi. With the flight of the Court from the capital
Chinese resistance collapsed, and when Count Waldersee arrived in
September with several thousand German troops to take supreme command of
the allied expeditionary forces, there was no enemy to fight.
Hostilities gave place to negotiations between the foreign Governments
concerned and China for the settlement of the various issues raised by
the Boxer outbreak. The negotiations resulted in two preliminary
exchanges of Notes, dated, respectively, December 22nd, 1900, and
January 16th, 1901, embodying the conditions for the re-establishment of
normal relations with China, and in the signature of a final Protocol on
September 7th, 1901. Three days before its signature Prince Ch’un, who
had proceeded on a mission to Berlin to apologize for the murder of the
German Minister, was received in audience by the Kaiser.
The chief conditions imposed on China by these arrangements were the
payment of an indemnity of 450,000,000 Haikwan taels (equivalent at the
rate fixed—3s. per tael—to £67,500,000); the permanent occupation of
certain places, including Tientsin and Shanhaikwan, for the purpose of
preserving free communications between Peking and the sea; the razing of
the Taku and other forts which threatened those communications; and the
construction of a separate fortified quarter in the Capital for the
foreign Legations, for the further protection of which permanent foreign
guards were to be retained. Other terms included special reparation for
the murders of the German Minister and the Chancellor of the Japanese
Legation and the desecration of cemeteries; the punishment of Prince
Tuan, as well as other personages and officials responsible for the
attacks on foreigners; and the prohibition of the import of arms.
Thanks, as we learn from the Handbook already quoted, to the good sense
of the leading provincial authorities, such as the Viceroys of Nanking
and Wuchang and the new Governor of Shantung, who had the courage to
disobey the Imperial Decree, the Boxer movement was stifled in the
central and southern regions of China. There, in spite of considerable
unrest, order was preserved. But further north in Manchuria the
Governors were not so judicious. In obedience to instructions from the
Court they declared war on the Russians. The sudden attacks made by
Chinese forces created a panic on the Amur, and brought about the savage
reprisals which occurred at Blagovestchensk on that river, and the
occupation of the whole of Manchuria by Russian troops. The folly of the
Empress Dowager and of the ignorant clique by whose counsels she was
guided gave Russia the opportunity she desired for pursuing her designs
of aggression in the Far East. Her subsequent conduct throughout the
negotiations, and after their conclusion, destroyed the good effect
produced by her valuable co-operation in the fighting at Tientsin, where
the Russian reinforcements were, undoubtedly, the chief factor in saving
the foreign settlements from destruction.
In the military operations against Peking, and in the protracted
negotiations which succeeded them, Japan played a conspicuous part. She
had suffered injury similar to that sustained by other foreign Powers in
connection with the Boxer Rising, and she had a common interest with
them in adopting whatever measures might be necessary in the
international emergency which had arisen. Her proximity to China and her
military resources enabled her to strike quickly, and with effect. To
the invitation to take part in the expeditionary force in process of
organization, which was addressed to her by the other interested Powers,
with the exception of Russia, she responded with alacrity; and in a
short space of time a well-equipped Japanese force took its place with
the troops of other Powers, and joined in the march on Peking for the
relief of the besieged Legations. The discipline and efficiency of the
Japanese contingent won well-deserved praise from those best qualified
to judge. In the subsequent negotiations the readiness shown by Japan to
act in harmony with other Powers, whose attitude was influenced by
consideration for the general interests of all concerned, facilitated
the solution of many difficulties; and, when the question of claims for
indemnity came to be discussed, the moderation of her demands was
equalled only by that of Great Britain and the United States.
CHAPTER XXV
Agreement between Great Britain and Germany—The Anglo-Japanese Alliance.
Soon after the opening of negotiations for the re-establishment of
friendly relations with China the Governments of Great Britain and
Germany concluded an Agreement of a self-denying character which
confirmed, though in different words and with special application to the
situation then existing in China, the principle of the “open door and
equal opportunity,” as set forth by the United States, and accepted by
the Powers consulted, in the autumn of 1899 and the spring of the year
following. By this Agreement, signed in London on October 16th, 1900,
the two Powers bound themselves to support the principle above
mentioned; to abstain from making use of the existing troubles in China
to “obtain for themselves any territorial advantages”; and to co-operate
for the protection of their interests in the event of any attempt on the
part of another Power to obtain such advantages under existing
conditions. The Agreement was, as prearranged, communicated to other
interested Powers, who were invited “to accept the principles recorded
in it.” Replies more or less favourable were received from the Powers
addressed. The French Government referred to its prompt adhesion to the
proposals of the United States in the previous year as a proof of its
long-entertained wishes in the direction indicated; while the Russian
reply, which, like the French, took the form of a Memorandum, went so
far as to say that Russia had been “the first to lay down the
maintenance of the integrity of the Chinese Empire as a fundamental
principle of her policy in China.” The Japanese Government, in its
answer, stated that, in view of the assurance received that in adhering
to the Agreement Japan would be placed in the same position as she would
have occupied had she been a signatory instead of an adhering State, it
had no hesitation in adhering to the Agreement, and accepting the
principles embodied therein.
Subsequently, when it became apparent that Russia had no idea of
evacuating the territory she occupied in Manchuria, the German
Government explained that the Agreement was never intended to apply to
that territory.
The course pursued by Russia from the outset of the negotiations in
Peking was in marked contrast to the attitude adopted by the other
Powers concerned, and in direct contradiction to the principles embodied
in the Anglo-German Agreement in which she professed to acquiesce. From
some of the demands made by the other Powers conjointly she dissociated
herself, while her conduct in keeping her troops stationed in the
furthest positions to which they had penetrated during the Boxer
outbreak indicated an intention to give a permanent character to her
occupation of Manchuria. Her attitude in this latter respect was
doubtless encouraged by the fact that, whereas the Final Protocol
provided for the withdrawal of foreign troops, under certain conditions,
from Peking, and the province of Chihli, it contained no reference to
the evacuation of Manchuria. Further proof of her designs was furnished
by the conclusion in January, 1901 (subject to confirmation by the
Peking Government), of an Agreement between Admiral Alexeieff and the
Tartar General at Moukden, placing the province of Fêng-t’ien (Shenking)
under Russian control, and by the subsequent opening of negotiations at
St. Petersburg for a formal Convention, which would have established a
Russian Protectorate over the whole of Manchuria, besides giving her
exclusive, or preferential, rights in Mongolia and Chinese Turkestan.
These attempts to obtain China’s consent to her occupation of Manchuria,
and to secure for herself a position of exceptional advantage elsewhere,
were frustrated by the vigilance of Great Britain, the United States and
Japan, and by the general indignation they aroused in China. The
Government at Peking, yielding to the pressure thus brought to bear upon
it, withheld its confirmation of the Moukden Agreement; the Chinese
Minister at the Russian capital was forbidden to sign the Convention
under negotiation; and eventually, in August, 1901, the Russian
Government issued an official _communiqué_ announcing the shelving of
the proposed Convention owing, as it was explained, to the
misrepresentation of Russia’s intentions. Russian troops, nevertheless,
remained in Manchuria, and it was not until after the conclusion of the
Anglo-Japanese Alliance that Russia at length made an Agreement with
China for the evacuation of the territory she had occupied, an Agreement
which, as M. Witte afterwards explained to the British Ambassador in St.
Petersburg, she never intended to observe.
On the 30th January, 1902, the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Alliance was
signed in London by the Marquess of Lansdowne and the Japanese Minister
there, the late Count (then Baron) Hayashi, who was afterwards Japanese
Minister for Foreign Affairs. The Treaty related to affairs in “the
Extreme East,” and came into effect immediately after signature. It was
terminable after five years’ duration, at one year’s notice on either
side, subject to the condition that should either of the contracting
parties be at war when the period of the Treaty came to an end it should
remain in force until peace was concluded. By this Agreement the
contracting parties recognized the independence of China and Korea, and
the special interests therein of Great Britain and Japan respectively.
They bound themselves to maintain strict neutrality in the event of
either of them being involved in war, and to come to one another’s
assistance in the event of either being confronted by the opposition of
more than one hostile Power. The Treaty also, as we have seen, affirmed
the principle of “equal opportunity.”
In his despatch to the British Minister in Tōkiō notifying the signature
of the Agreement the Marquess of Lansdowne observed that it might be
regarded as the outcome of the events which had taken place during the
last two years in the Far East, and of the part taken by Great Britain
and Japan in dealing with them. Count Hayashi, in his _Secret Memoirs_,
published in London in 1915 after his death, confirms this statement,
but puts the date at which tendencies began to take shape in this
direction somewhat further back. The idea of an alliance between the two
countries first came, he says, into the minds of Japanese statesmen soon
after the triple intervention of 1895, and was favoured by Count Mutsu,
who was at the time Minister for Foreign Affairs. The effect of that
intervention, he explains, was to cause a regrouping of Powers in the
Far East: France, Russia and Germany forming one group, while Great
Britain, Japan and the United States represented another. Having this
regrouping in view, he himself, in the summer of that year, suggested
the desirability of such an alliance, should the unfriendly attitude of
certain Powers towards Japan be continued. The suggestion was made in
articles contributed to a leading Tōkiō journal after he had ceased to
be Vice-Minister for Foreign Affairs, and on the eve of his appointment
as Japanese Minister to China.
The following extracts from a summary of these articles, which is given
in the Memoirs, show how, undismayed by the retrocession of the Liaotung
peninsula, Japanese statesmen still held firmly to their settled policy
of attaining for the nation a footing of equality with Western Powers,
realizing perhaps more clearly than before that the increase of Japan’s
naval and military strength was the only means of attaining their
object.
“We must,” the writer of the articles says, “continue to study according
to Western methods, for the application of science is the most important
item of warlike preparations that civilized nations regard. If new ships
of war are considered necessary, we must build them at any cost. If the
organization of the army is found to be wrong ... the whole military
system must be entirely changed. We must build docks to be able to
repair our ships. We must establish a steel factory to supply guns and
ammunition. Our railways must be extended so that we can mobilize our
troops rapidly. Our oversea shipping must be developed so that we can
provide transports to carry our armies abroad. This is the programme
that we have to keep always in view.... What Japan has now to do is to
keep perfectly quiet, to lull the suspicions that have arisen against
her, and to wait, meanwhile strengthening the foundations of her
national power, watching and waiting for the opportunity which must one
day surely come in the Orient. When that day comes, she will be able to
follow her own course.”
How sedulously all the steps indicated were subsequently carried out is
now common knowledge. Preparations on a scale so extended could mean
only one thing—provision against the possible eventuality of war with
the Power that might stand in the way of Japan’s “following her own
course.”
[Illustration:
MARQUIS SAIONJI.
Descended from an ancient family of Court Nobles. A prominent figure
in diplomacy and parliamentary life. He was chief delegate for Japan
at the Versailles Conference.
]
[Illustration:
GENERAL PRINCE KATSURA.
Rendered distinguished services in the war with China and Russia; he
was conspicuous both as soldier and statesman.
]
The idea of an alliance, or some sort of understanding, between the two
countries thus put forward in 1895 seems to have gradually made way both
in Japan and in Great Britain. We learn from the same Memoirs that in
1898 Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, then Colonial Minister, expressed to
Viscount (then Mr.) Kato, who was at that time Japanese Minister in
London, the readiness of Great Britain to enter into an agreement with
Japan for the settlement of affairs in the Far East, and that the
latter, in reporting the conversation to the Foreign Minister in Tōkiō,
strongly supported the suggestion. The subject, it appears, was again
discussed in the course of a conversation which Count Hayashi had with
the late Marquis Itō and with Marquis (then Count) Inouyé in Tōkiō in
1899, prior to his (Count Hayashi’s) appointment as Minister in London.
His account of what passed on this occasion shows that the Japanese
Government was at that time hesitating between two opposite courses—an
agreement, or alliance, with Great Britain, and an understanding with
Russia; and it seems to have been thought that the latter Power was in a
position to offer better terms. Soon after his arrival, early in
January, 1900, to take up his post in London the new Minister met the
late Dr. Morrison, then _Times_ correspondent in Peking, with whom he
discussed the question of an alliance between the two countries. He
seems then to have formed the impression that most British journalists
were in favour of an Anglo-Japanese alliance.
It was not, however, until the following year that the question began to
assume a practical aspect. The first move came from an unexpected
quarter, the German Embassy in London. In March, 1901, Freiherr von
Eckhardstein, who was then, owing to the illness of the German
Ambassador, in the position of Chargé d’Affaires, called on Count
Hayashi and expressed the opinion that a triple alliance between
Germany, Great Britain and Japan was the best means of maintaining peace
in the Far East. He suggested that he (Count Hayashi) should take the
initiative in proposing this alliance. The latter, who had, as we know,
been one of the first to advocate an Anglo-Japanese alliance, reported
the suggestion to his Government, and was instructed to sound the
British Government unofficially on the subject. Much light is thrown on
the subsequent course of negotiations by the Memoirs already mentioned,
and Freiherr von Eckhardstein’s “Reminiscences” (_Lebens Erinnerungen
und Politische Denkwürdigkeiten_), published in Leipzig in 1920. The
ball thus set rolling, the question was, we learn, discussed informally
from time to time, on the one hand between the Japanese Minister and
Lord Lansdowne, and, on the other, between the latter and the German
Chargé d’Affaires; but it was never reopened by the German Embassy with
the Japanese Minister.
There seems to have been little enthusiasm for the project of a triple
alliance on the part of any of the foreign Ministries concerned. Great
Britain appears to have shown more inclination in this direction than
the other two Powers, for until a late stage in the negotiations with
Japan the point would seem to have been kept in view by the British
Cabinet. If the German Government ever seriously entertained the
idea—which is very doubtful—it was merely for the reasons mentioned by
the Foreign Office in Berlin, that the inclusion of Japan might be
acceptable to her on general grounds, since she would “find herself in
good company,” and might make negotiations with Great Britain easier,
“as Japan was popular in Germany.” The alliance with Great Britain was
regarded as the main consideration; and even in this matter there is no
reason to think that the German overtures were sincere, for Berlin’s
insistence on Austria’s being brought into the business, though not as a
contracting party, added to the difficulties already in existence. Nor,
on the side of Japan, where the part played by Germany in the Liaotung
incident was not forgotten, does there seem to have been any marked
desire for the inclusion of that Power in any understanding between
herself and Great Britain. This explains the separate character of the
negotiations carried on in London. As between Great Britain and Germany,
they lasted no longer than a few weeks, during which time they appear to
have been kept alive only by the efforts of the German Chargé
d’Affaires, to whose initiative the project was due. After the
resumption of his duties by the German Ambassador the negotiations were
transferred to Berlin, where they soon came to an end. Their failure is
described by the author of the Reminiscences as “the starting-point of
the encirclement [_Einkreisung_] of Germany, and of the world-war which
was the mathematical consequence.”
The parallel negotiations between Great Britain and Japan were not
interrupted by the inability of the British and German Governments to
arrive at an understanding. No obstacles of the kind that stood in the
way of an agreement between the two other Powers existed. The cordial
relations which had been established as a result of the settlement of
the long-pending question of Treaty revision had been improved by the
close co-operation of the two countries in the international measures in
which both had joined at the time of the Boxer outbreak, and by the
harmony of views that was developed during the Peking negotiations. The
only difficulty which presented itself lay in the fact, already referred
to, that the Japanese Government was hesitating between two opposite
courses—an understanding with Russia and an agreement with Great
Britain. The decision rested with the leading statesmen, who on this
point were divided into two parties, one led by the late Prince Itō and
the late Marquis Inouyé, the other by Prince (then Marquis) Yamagata and
the late Prince Katsura. Itō, whose pro-German tendencies were well
known, was in favour of coming to an understanding, if possible, with
Russia, and his opinion was shared by Inouyé. Yamagata and Katsura, on
the other hand, were inclined towards an alliance with Great Britain.
Fortunately for the London negotiations, the cleavage of opinion did not
follow clan lines. The Chōshiū party, to which the four statesmen in
question all belonged, was itself divided. Fortunately, also, Katsura
was then Premier. His and Yamagata’s policy was adopted by the Cabinet,
and finally prevailed. In his opposition to the Cabinet’s policy Itō
went so far as to arrange that a visit he was about to make to America
in connection with celebrations at the University of Yale should be
extended to Russia, where he seems to have exchanged views with Russian
statesmen. His action threatened at one moment to imperil the success of
the London negotiations, and it became necessary for the Japanese
Government to explain that his visit to Russia had no official
character. In the face of this disavowal he could do little. Whatever
plans he and those who supported him may have formed came to nothing,
and in the end he was forced to content himself with criticizing
unfavourably the draft of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty which embodied the
final amendments proposed by Japan. The strength of his position in the
country at the time, as well as his influence with the late Japanese
Emperor, may be gathered from the fact that these last amendments were
transmitted by the Government to him in Russia by special messenger,
with a request for his opinion.
It is unnecessary to emphasize the importance of the Anglo-Japanese
alliance. Count Hayashi, in speaking of it as “an epoch-making event,”
does not overstate the case. For both countries it was a new and grave
departure in policy, ending an isolation which was a source of weakness
to each in the quarter of the world to which it applied. For Japan it
had a treble value. It practically assured her against a repetition of
the Liaotung incident, while the mere fact of her becoming the ally of
one of the leading Powers of the world added greatly to her prestige,
and it facilitated the floating of loans on the London market. If the
benefit accruing to Great Britain may seem to have been less, the
alliance was nevertheless opportune in view of the close understanding
between Russia and France in the Far East, the open menace to her
interests offered by Russian designs in Manchuria and the danger to be
apprehended from their further extension. The fact that the alliance was
renewed in an extended form three years later, was again renewed in
1911, and is still in force, shows that both Governments have reason to
be satisfied with its results.
The conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese alliance drew from the Russian and
French Governments a Declaration, signed in St. Petersburg on March 3rd,
1902, which left no doubt as to the interpretation placed on it in St.
Petersburg and Paris. In this Declaration the two Governments, while
approving of the fundamental principles affirmed in the Anglo-Japanese
Agreement, reserved to themselves the right to consult each other, if
necessary, regarding the protection of their interests. The comment of
the author of _Le Monde et la Guerre Russo-Japonaise_ on this
counter-move was that “it had almost no value as an answer to the
Anglo-Japanese Treaty.”
The action of Russia in prolonging indefinitely her occupation of
Manchuria, in spite of the protests of other Powers, and her attempts to
strengthen her position there by secret arrangements with China, in
defiance of the principle of “the open door and equal opportunity” which
she had united with other Powers in accepting, caused fresh uneasiness
in Washington. On February 1st, 1901, almost simultaneously with the
signature of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty, the American Secretary of State,
to whose initiative in 1899 the acceptance of this principle had been
due, addressed Circular Notes to the Governments of China, Russia and
nine other Powers on the subject of the situation created in Manchuria
by the Russian occupation. Any agreement, he pointed out, by which China
ceded to corporations, or companies, exclusive industrial rights and
privileges in connection with the development of Manchuria constituted a
monopoly, and, being a distinct breach of the stipulations of treaties
between China and foreign Powers, seriously affected the rights of
American citizens. Such concessions would be followed by demands from
other Powers for similar exclusive advantages in other parts of the
Chinese Empire, and would result in “the complete wreck of the policy of
absolute equality of treatment of all nations in regard to trade,
navigation and commerce within the confines of the Empire.”
Influenced, perhaps, by the Anglo-Japanese alliance and the written
protest of the United States, Russia at length, on the 8th April, 1902,
concluded at Peking an Agreement for the evacuation of Manchuria. The
Agreement was to come into force from the date of signature, and was to
be ratified within a period of three months, but this latter stipulation
was never observed. It provided for the evacuation to be conducted in
three stages, and to be completed in eighteen months—that is to say, by
October, 1903. The evacuation was, however, made dependent on two
conditions: the absence, meanwhile, of disturbances in the province, and
the abstention of other Powers from any action prejudicial to Russian
interests therein. The first stage fixed by the Agreement, the
withdrawal of Russian troops from the south-western portion of the
province of Moukden (Fêng-t’ien), was duly carried out by the date
agreed upon, the 8th October, 1902. Before, however, the date fixed for
the completion of the next stage of evacuation (March, 1903), the
withdrawal of Russian troops from the remainder of the province of
Moukden and from the province of Kirin, other and quite new conditions
were formulated by the Russian Government, one being that no “treaty
ports” should be opened in the evacuated territory. In the face of the
well-known fact that the fresh commercial treaties which America and
Japan were negotiating with China contemplated the opening of additional
places for foreign trade in Manchuria, these sudden demands indicated no
intention on Russia’s part to abide by the Agreement. If any doubt in
this respect existed, it was removed by her action in reoccupying early
in 1903 districts she had already evacuated, this step being followed by
the issue in July of the same year of an Imperial Ukase appointing
Admiral Alexeieff Viceroy of the Amur and Kwantung territories—the
latter being, as already mentioned, the name of the small peninsula in
which Port Arthur is situated.
CHAPTER XXVI
War with Russia—Success of Japan—President Roosevelt’s Mediation—Treaty
of Portsmouth—Peace Terms.
The threatening attitude of Russia, who no longer made any pretence of
masking her designs in China, was regarded with increasing anxiety in
Japan, where the necessity of preparing to meet force with force had
already been foreseen. But the high-handed proceedings of the Russians
in Manchuria were not the only cause of the tension that from this
moment began to appear in the relations between the two countries.
Mischief of a kind which had already led to war between China and Japan
was also brewing in Korea. By the Treaty of Shimonoséki, which ended the
war, the independence of that country was recognized. China in
relinquishing her claim to suzerainty no longer maintained Chinese
guards for her Legation in Seoul, and ceased from all political activity
in the peninsula, where the influence of Japan for a time became
predominant. But history was about to repeat itself. Into the place
vacated by China, Russia at once stepped, and Japan found herself
confronted by another and far more dangerous competitor. The positions
of the two new rivals in Korea were very different. The alliance forced
by Japan on the Korean Government at the outset of the war with China
had enabled her to strengthen her political influence, while the energy
she threw into the development of business projects of various kinds had
increased her material interests in the peninsula. The lion’s share of
Korea’s foreign trade and maritime transport was in the hands of Japan.
She had also constructed and was in charge of the working of telegraphic
communications in that country; she had secured a concession for the
construction of railways; and she had her own postal service. Russia, on
the other hand, took no part in business enterprise, and her trade with
Korea was insignificant. She could not, like China, point to traditions
of old-established intercourse, nor had she the latter’s plea of
suzerainty to justify interference in Korean affairs. Her position in
the peninsula was, nevertheless, not without some advantages. As in the
case of China, her territory was co-terminous for a considerable
distance with that of Korea. This supplied a reason for regarding with
disfavour the extension of Japanese influence on the mainland, as well
as a pretext for the activity she soon began to display in political
matters. Moreover, having gained the ear of the formerly pro-Chinese
Court party and—which was more important—the favour of the masterful
Queen, she acquired valuable support in the campaign of political
intrigue upon which both Powers embarked.
The situation in Korea thus became in many ways similar to what it had
been before, when China and Japan were contending for supremacy in the
peninsula. We have seen in the former instance the attempts that were
made from time to time by the Chinese and Japanese Governments to arrive
at an understanding with regard to their respective interests which
should introduce more stable conditions into Korean administration, and
put an end to the dangerous outbreaks which disturbed the country and
threatened at any moment to produce a collision between the two Powers
concerned. The process was now repeated, Russia occupying the position
held by China before. In 1896 an arrangement was effected between the
Russian and Japanese representatives in Korea. This tided over the first
difficulties that had arisen, and later in the same year was confirmed
by a Convention signed at St. Petersburg by Prince Lobanoff, the Russian
Minister for Foreign Affairs, and Prince (then Marquis) Yamagata, who
had gone to the Russian capital to attend the late Tsar’s coronation.
Count de Witte, in his recently published Memoirs, referring to this
Convention, says that Prince Lobanoff “knew no more about the Far East
than the average schoolboy.” Two years later a more detailed Agreement
in the form of a Protocol was concluded at Tōkiō between Viscount (then
Baron) Nishi, the Japanese Minister for Foreign Affairs, and the Russian
Minister to Japan, Baron Rosen. This Agreement resembled closely the
Convention negotiated at Tientsin in 1889 between China and Japan.
The conclusion of the above mentioned Agreements did not prevent the
occurrence of disputes between the two rival Powers. These differences
were aggravated by the mischievous influence of Korean political
factions, which lost no opportunity of fomenting trouble between the two
Powers whose protection was sought. The harmony of relations was also
impaired by the presence of Russian and Japanese guards in the capital;
by the Russian efforts to obtain control of the Korean army and
finances; by the unfortunate implication of the Japanese Minister in
Seoul in the murder of the Queen; by the virtual imprisonment of the
King in one of the royal palaces; and by his subsequent escape from
confinement to the Russian Legation, where he remained for some time
under Russian protection. Matters were at length brought to a crisis by
the refusal of Russia in the spring of 1903 to evacuate Manchuria in
pursuance of her Agreement with China concluded in the previous October.
This refusal was followed by the appointment of Admiral Alexeieff as
Viceroy of the Russian Far Eastern Territories, and an increase of
activity in Korea, where large timber concessions were obtained, and
other Russian enterprises set on foot. For this renewal of aggressive
action on the part of Russia the way had been prepared by the
construction of railways in Siberia and Manchuria—a work of many years;
and it is significant that Russia should have timed her refusal to carry
out the Agreement for evacuation so as to coincide with the completion
of the Chinese Eastern Railway, which practically established direct
railway communication between Moscow and Port Arthur. There could no
longer be any doubt that the Russian Government had not abandoned the
far-reaching designs which her lease of Port Arthur had heralded, and
was bent on pursuing a provocative policy. Count de Witte, in the
Memoirs already quoted, holds the late Tsar directly responsible for the
course adopted, which he describes as “the Far Eastern adventure.” The
Tsar, he says, had no definite programme of conquest, but was anxious to
spread Russian influence in the Far East by acquiring fresh territory,
and he speaks of him as having a thirst for military glory and
conquests. He further explains that the Tsar at this time came under the
influence of Bezobrazov, Plehve and other unscrupulous officials, who
encouraged him to defy Japan. Had Russia at this stage of affairs been
content to limit her activity to Manchuria, leaving Japan a clear field
in Korea, the Russo-Japanese war would probably not have taken place, or
it might, at least, have been postponed. A proposal to this effect was,
indeed, made by Japan in the course of the negotiations between the two
Powers, which were commenced at the Russian capital about the time of
Alexeieff’s appointment, and continued until early in the following
year. Russia, however, refused to entertain it. The uncompromising and
obdurate attitude she displayed was in marked contrast to the
conciliatory disposition evinced by Japan. For the deadlock thus created
Russia alone was responsible. The Japanese Government, recognizing the
futility of any further attempt to arrive at a satisfactory
understanding with her, decided to take the bull by the horns, and
terminate negotiations. Accordingly, in two Notes addressed to the
Russian Government on the 5th February, 1904, it announced its intention
to break oil diplomatic relations, reserving to itself the right to take
what independent action might be necessary to defend its threatened
interests. At the same time the Japanese Government sent a circular
despatch to the same effect to its diplomatic representatives abroad for
the information of the Governments to which they were accredited.
Hostilities were commenced by Japan at Port Arthur and Chemulpo two days
before her formal declaration of war, which was not made until the 10th
February. This action on her part evoked some unfavourable criticism,
though many precedents for this step existed. Her declaration of war was
followed a fortnight later by the signature at Seoul of a Protocol by
which Japan guaranteed the independence and territorial integrity of
Korea, who in return granted to her all facilities in the peninsula
which might be necessary for the prosecution of the war. It will be
remembered that a similar step was taken by Japan at the outset of her
war with China.
When the latter conflict took place the world in general, for the most
part ignorant of the conditions existing in the two countries,
anticipated the defeat of Japan, an opinion governed to a great extent
by considerations of geography, population and visible resources. On the
same grounds a similar view, adverse to Japan’s chances of success in a
struggle with Russia, prevailed in most quarters. For a nation far
inferior in extent of territory, population, military organization, and
resources, to challenge a leading European Power seemed, on the face of
things, a proceeding which could only invite disaster. The two countries
were, nevertheless, not so unevenly matched as was supposed to be the
case. Without doubt Russia was an adversary with whom the strongest
military state would have preferred to keep on good terms. Her extensive
territories and large population, her apparently inexhaustible
resources, gave her great advantages over Japan. These advantages were,
however, counterbalanced by certain patent weaknesses. The war was
unpopular. The policy of adventure which provoked it was condemned by
her own wisest statesmen. There was much political unrest. She was
fighting not in Europe, but on a remote fringe of her vast empire. The
Amur Railway, projected with a view to consolidate her widely separated
dominions, was not completed east of Lake Baikal; nor had the railway
authorities yet finished the portion round the southern end of that
lake, communication across which was still maintained by specially built
steamers. It was doubtful, therefore, if the recently built Chinese
Eastern Railway, which served as a temporary substitute, would prove to
be a reliable line of communications for war purposes. In Japan, on the
other hand, the war was not only popular, but eagerly welcomed. The
efficiency of the army, no less than the fighting capacity and endurance
of the Japanese soldier, had been tested in the war with China, and in
the course of the eight years that had since elapsed the Government had
spared no effort to bring it to the level of European standards. Though
Japanese statesmen, conscious of Russia’s strength, might share the
apprehensions felt abroad as to the issue of the struggle, they derived
encouragement from the whole-hearted support given to the Government by
the people. All classes realized that the stake at issue for Russia was
very different from what it was for Japan. The former was fighting to
acquire fresh territory; the latter was fighting for her life. Under
these circumstances a warlike nation, fighting at its own doors, might
conceivably accomplish great things against a foe whose heart was not in
the struggle. The spirit which animated her people and her army was one
of the factors in Japan’s success.
No time was lost by the Japanese in the conduct of military
operations. On the 8th February a Japanese squadron, escorting
transports, arrived off Chemulpo, where two Russian vessels were lying
at anchor unprepared for hostilities. Given the choice of being
attacked in the harbour or fighting outside, the Russian commander
chose the latter alternative. His two vessels were no match for the
squadron they encountered. Driven back into port badly damaged, one
was sunk and the other blown up by its crew. The same night Admiral
Tōgō, the Japanese naval Commander-in-Chief, delivered a torpedo
attack on the Russian fleet at Port Arthur. In this action two Russian
battleships and a cruiser sustained severe damage. On the following
day the Japanese troops (some four battalions) which had arrived under
naval escort at Chemulpo landed, and occupied the Korean capital. The
first actions of the war thus resulted in favour of Japan.
At this early stage it became apparent that Russia’s superiority at sea
was greatly nullified by the faulty disposition of her squadrons. While
her main fleet in Far Eastern waters was stationed at Port Arthur, a
powerful squadron remained isolated at Vladivostok. A large portion of
her navy, moreover, was kept at home, whence it only emerged late in the
war to be destroyed in the battle of Tsushima. Two other obstacles the
Russian commanders had to contend with: the ice-bound condition of
Vladivostok for several months in the year, and the almost
insurmountable difficulty of repairing vessels owing to the absence of
adequate dockyard facilities. In all these respects Japan had an
advantage. Her harbours were free from ice. She was well provided with
naval arsenals, and with dockyards for the repair of her ships. On the
outbreak of war, too, her fleet was at once concentrated at Sasébo, the
naval arsenal near Nagasaki, a detached squadron being posted in the
Korean straits, whence it could watch Vladivostok. From the first,
therefore, the Russian naval forces in the Far East were separated, nor
throughout the war were they ever able to effect a junction. Moreover,
whereas the Russian home fleet took no part in the war until it was
drawing to a close, the Japanese navy early in the struggle received a
welcome reinforcement in the shape of two new battleships acquired in
Europe from a neutral Power.
In the naval operations which ensued at Port Arthur the Japanese,
besides resorting to vigorous bombardments, delivered repeated torpedo
attacks, and attempted on several occasions to seal up the harbour by
sinking vessels at the entrance. Neither of these courses was attended
with the success hoped for; nor had they the effect of inducing the
Russian fleet to come out and fight. Greater success resulted from the
laying of mines in front of Port Arthur. In April the Russian flagship
_Petropavlosk_ struck one of these mines and was blown up, the new
Russian admiral, Makharoff, who had just taken over command of the
fleet, being killed in the explosion. Another battleship was at the same
time seriously damaged. A little later the Japanese also laid mines at
the entrance of Vladivostok, thus restricting the movements of the
Russian squadron at that port, which had previously shown mischievous
activity in attacks on Japanese transports. When the Russians, copying
the methods of the enemy, took to laying mines themselves, the results
were disastrous for the Japanese, two of their best battleships and a
despatchboat being destroyed by this means in the month of May. These
losses were, however, so carefully concealed that the Russians knew
nothing of their occurrence till it was too late to take advantage of
them.
The excessive caution displayed by the Russian naval commanders in the
opening stages of the war was no effective answer to the bold tactics of
their opponents. The inaction of the main fleet at Port Arthur, its
refusal for several months to accept the risks of a general engagement,
gave the Japanese navy thus early in the struggle a moral superiority
that was never lost. Furthermore, it enabled Japan to gain practically
the command of the sea, so essential to the prosecution of military
operations on the mainland.
The Japanese operations on land began with the disembarkation of the 1st
Army of three divisions under General Kuroki at the mouth of the Ta-tong
river and the occupation of the important town of Ping-yang, where the
Chinese army had made its first stand in the war of 1894–5. The few
Russian troops in the neighbourhood fell back on the Yalu river, the
boundary at this point between Korea and China. Here in a strong
position on the Chinese side of that river, and at its junction with a
tributary stream, the Ai-ho, a Russian army of some 20,000 men under
General Zasulich awaited attack. This was delivered by the Japanese
after some preliminary skirmishing on the 30th April, and resulted in
the defeat of the Russians with the loss of over twenty guns, their
casualties being far greater than those of the victors. A few days later
the 2nd Japanese army under General Oku landed at Pitzuwo, a place on
the east coast of the Liaotung peninsula some sixty miles from Port
Arthur, and cut the railway line connecting that fortress with
Liao-yang, the town chosen by General Kuropatkin, the Russian
Commander-in-Chief, for the concentration of his forces. The
disembarkation of this army was covered by the Japanese fleet, which had
made the Elliot islands its advanced base. In the middle of May another
Japanese force, which afterwards formed part of the 4th Army led by
General Nodzu, landed at Takushan, midway between Pitzuwo and the mouth
of the Yalu. At the end of that month the 2nd Army, after a severe
struggle, defeated a Russian force entrenched in a formidable position
at Nanshan, on the isthmus of Chinchou, which connects the two
peninsulas of Liaotung and Kawn-tung. The position captured was of
importance, as guarding the approaches to Port Arthur. On this occasion
the Japanese took many siege guns, but their casualties were much
heavier than those of the Russians. The landing of Oku’s army was
followed early in June by that of the 3rd Army under General Nogi, to
whom was assigned the rôle of besieging Port Arthur. Soon afterwards the
repulse by General Oku of a Russian force sent to relieve the fortress
enabled the 3rd Army to begin the execution of its task. Meanwhile
further Japanese reinforcements had reached Takushan, and in July
General Nodzu arrived and took command of the 4th Army, the formation of
which was by this time complete. This, and the 1st Army under Kuroki,
then moved westwards on parallel lines through the mountain passes of
Southern Manchuria, driving before them the Russian forces which they
encountered; while General Oku with the 2nd Army moving from the
south-west struck northwards, the objective in each case being
Liao-yang, where General Kuropatkin had established his headquarters. At
this stage the campaign in Manchuria divided itself into two distinct
and independent operations: the advance north and west of the three
Japanese armies under Generals Oku, Kuroki and Nodzu in a converging
movement towards Liao-yang; and the investment of Port Arthur by the 3rd
Army under General Nogi.
As the result of the converging movement of the northern armies, in the
course of which the treaty port of Newchwang was occupied, their total
length of front had in the beginning of August been reduced from 150 to
45 miles. This success was not gained without severe fighting at
different points, in which, however, the Japanese losses compared, on
the whole, favourably with those of the enemy. On the 10th of the same
month the Russian fleet at Port Arthur made its first and only sortie in
full strength, its object being to join forces with the squadron at
Vladivostok. The attempt failed. In the general engagement that ensued
four Russian ships succeeded in running the gauntlet of the Japanese
fleet and reaching neutral ports, but the other vessels were driven back
into harbour severely damaged. Of those which escaped, three were
interned at the ports where they arrived; while the fourth, the _Novik_,
which had put into Kiaochow, was subsequently intercepted and sunk on
her way to Vladivostok. A similar sortie made about the same time by the
Vladivostok squadron was equally unsuccessful. These two engagements put
an end to the activity of the Russian naval forces in the Far East.
The battle of Liao-yang, the first big battle of the war, was fought
under the immediate direction of Marshal Ōyama, the Japanese
Commander-in-Chief, who had accompanied the 2nd Army on its march north.
There was little disparity in point of numbers between the forces
engaged on each side, but the Russians had an advantage in cavalry over
the Japanese, and were also much stronger in artillery. Beginning on the
23rd of August, it lasted until the morning of the 3rd September, when
Kuropatkin gave orders for the retirement of the whole army towards
Mukden. The losses on each side were about equal, a fact which,
considering the strength of the Russian position, was very creditable to
the Japanese. In the beginning of October the second big battle, that of
the Shaho, so called from the name of a river in the vicinity, took
place. On this occasion it was Kuropatkin who took the offensive. Again
the Japanese were successful, the Russians being driven back with twice
the loss sustained by their opponents.
On the 2nd January Port Arthur fell. After the investment of the
fortress had become complete, three successive general assaults made in
August, October and November had failed. Eventually, on the 5th of
December, the Japanese succeeded in storming the position known as 203
Metre Hill, which commanded the remaining defences, as well as the
harbour in which was contained what was left of the Russian main fleet.
A month later the commander of the fortress, General Stoessel,
surrendered. The siege had cost the Japanese between thirty and forty
thousand casualties, but the prize was well worth this cost. The Russian
main fleet had ceased to exist, and Nogi’s troops were free to march
north to reinforce the Japanese armies threatening Mukden. During the
short interval separating the fall of Port Arthur from the final battle
of the war Kuropatkin again assumed the offensive. But the attack was
not pushed vigorously, and after a few days of fighting the Russians at
the end of January retired, having sustained heavy losses. It was now
midwinter, but, in spite of the intense cold, the Japanese
Commander-in-Chief decided to continue his advance on Mukden. In this
decision he was influenced by the successful working of the single line
of railway by which the communications of the Russian armies were
maintained. The utility of this line had exceeded all expectations. By
this means constant reinforcements were reaching Kuropatkin. Delay until
spring, moreover, would help the Russians in several ways: it would give
time for the arrival of fresh troops; it would enable them to strengthen
their entrenchments at Mukden; and the break-up of winter would render
military operations difficult. A further consideration, which doubtless
had some weight in the resolution formed by Ōyama, lay in the fact that
his armies would shortly be strengthened by the addition of Nogi’s
troops from Port Arthur.
The battle of Mukden resolved itself into a series of engagements
lasting from the last day of February until the 16th of March, when
Kuropatkin, acknowledging defeat, retreated up the railway to Tiehling
with an estimated loss of 140,000 men and a vast quantity of war
material. The Japanese losses were well under 50,000 killed and wounded.
The final episode of the war took place at sea some two months later.
The fierce assaults delivered by the Japanese army besieging Port Arthur
in the previous autumn had been hastened by the news that the Russian
Baltic fleet was on its way to the Far East, having sailed on the 15th
October, 1904. Delayed by coaling difficulties and the necessity of
maintaining a uniform rate of progress, this fleet did not reach
Japanese waters until May, 1905. On the 27th of that month it was met in
the Tsushima straits by a Japanese fleet under Admiral Tōgō and
completely defeated, only two vessels escaping to tell the tale of
disaster.
The exhaustion of both combatants in the long and arduous struggle
prepared the way for the termination of hostilities. Though she had been
successful on land as well as at sea, the military reserves at the
disposal of Japan were seriously depleted, and the people were tired of
war. Russia, on the other hand, though free from anxiety on this score,
was beset by internal difficulties of a kind which threatened grave
trouble were the war to be prolonged. In these circumstances the
overtures set on foot in the following June by President Roosevelt,
acting of his own accord as peacemaker, were welcomed by both Powers.
The negotiations, conducted at Portsmouth in the United States, resulted
in the conclusion of peace on the 5th day of September, 1905. By the
Treaty of Portsmouth, Russia acknowledged the preponderating interests
of Japan in Korea, ceded to Japan the southern half of Saghalien, which
the latter had exchanged in 1875 for the Kurile islands, and transferred
to her the larger and more valuable portion of the rights in Manchuria
acquired from China in connection with the lease of Port Arthur in 1898.
No war indemnity, however, was paid by Russia, though she undertook to
reimburse Japan for the cost of maintenance of the large number of
Russian prisoners taken during the war. The absence of any provision for
an indemnity caused considerable dissatisfaction in Japan, some slight
disturbances occurring in the Capital. Japan had, indeed, no reason to
be dissatisfied with the results of her success in the war, for it
placed her at once in the position of a first-class Power in the Far
East.
The conclusion of peace was followed by the signature in the Korean
capital on the 17th of November of a Convention establishing a Japanese
protectorate over Korea. The formal consent of China to the provisions
of the Treaty of Portsmouth, ceding to Japan the lease of Port Arthur,
and transferring to her the southern portion of the Manchurian Railway,
was also obtained by a Treaty between China and Japan, which was signed
in Peking on the 22nd of December. And in the following June a Japanese
Imperial Ordinance was issued establishing the South Manchurian Railway
Company, by which, thenceforth, the administration of the line, and of
the strip of territory through which it passed, was conducted.
CHAPTER XXVII
Weakening of Cordiality with America—Causes of Friction—Expansion and
Emigration—Annexation of Korea—New Treaties.
Attention has already been called to the very friendly relations
existing for many years between Japan and the United States, relations
so cordial as to be responsible for the distinction made between the
British and American nations by the Japanese Press, which spoke of the
former as “Our Allies,” and of the latter as “Our best friends.” The
reasons for the friendly feeling of the Japanese people for America are
not far to seek. It was from America that the first ideas of Western
civilization came; it was her influence which was most felt in the
earlier years of reopened intercourse with foreign nations; and her
policy of diplomatic independence and isolation, illustrated strikingly
by her behaviour in the crucial question of Treaty Revision, gave to her
dealings with Japan an air of disinterested benevolence that contrasted
favourably with the less complaisant attitude of other Powers.
The cordiality of American feeling towards Japan had of late years
diminished in some degree owing to various causes. Amongst them were the
unexpected disclosure of Japan’s military strength in the war with
China; her apparent willingness to associate herself with other Powers
in the aggressive policy in regard to China, which was one of the causes
of the Boxer Rising, and drew forth the remonstrances addressed by the
United States to the Governments concerned; her territorial expansion in
Manchuria at the expense of Russia; and the protectorate she had assumed
in Korea, which the United States Government had been inclined to regard
in the light of a protégé. The Japanese people were seemingly
unconscious of any change in the attitude of the American public; and no
serious differences had occurred to disturb the harmony of relations. In
1906, however, what is known as the School Question of California gave
rise to a troublesome controversy.
In the autumn of that year the San Francisco Board of Education issued
an order excluding Japanese children from the ordinary public schools
which they had hitherto attended, and providing for their segregation in
the common Asiatic school established in 1872 in the Chinese quarter in
pursuance of a State Law setting up separate schools for children of
Mongolian or Chinese descent. The law had been enacted in consequence of
the great increase of Chinese immigration. Welcomed at first owing to
the demand for labour on the Pacific coast, this influx of Chinese was
attended by obvious drawbacks, both social and moral, which were
regarded by the people of California as detrimental to the interests of
the community. In considerations of this kind Labour Unions in the State
found their opportunity, and an agitation was fomented against “Chinese
cheap labour,” with the result that steps were taken by the United
States Government to reduce this immigration to comparatively small
proportions.
Behind the question raised by the school authorities of San
Francisco—which was a mere pretext—the same forces were at work. The
segregation of Japanese school children produced serious resentment in
Japan, the ill-feeling evoked thereby being aggravated by
misunderstanding on the part of the public in both countries and by
intemperate writing in the Press. The incident, which led to some
diplomatic correspondence between the Governments concerned, was
eventually closed through the intervention of President Roosevelt
early in 1907. Apart from its international aspect, the difficulty had
involved the troublesome issue of Federal and State rights. By a
compromise arrived at between the President and the School Board it
was agreed that all alien children—no mention being made of
Japanese—above a certain age who, after examination, should be found
to be deficient in the elements of English, might be sent to special
schools; the President, at the same time, undertaking to secure some
limitation of Japanese immigration. In accordance with this
undertaking a clause, providing for the exclusion of certain classes
of immigrants, was inserted in the Immigration Act of February, 1907,
the right to legislate in such matters having been expressly reserved
by the United States in the revised Treaty with Japan of 1894. Further
negotiations between the two countries resulted in the conclusion in
1908 of what is known as the “Gentlemen’s Agreement”—effected by an
exchange of confidential Notes—by which the Japanese Government
consented to co-operate in carrying out the purpose of the Act by
taking measures to restrict labour immigration from Japan to the
United States. When, therefore, in 1911 a new Treaty of commerce and
navigation between America and Japan was negotiated at Washington
there was good reason to regard it as putting an end to the
controversy. The United States Senate in ratifying it recorded the
understanding “that the Treaty should not be deemed to repeal or
affect any of the provisions of the Immigration Act of 1907”; and the
understanding was confirmed by a Declaration—appended to the
Treaty—stating the intention of the Japanese Government to maintain
with equal effectiveness the limitation and control which it had
exercised for the past three years in regulating the emigration of
labourers to the United States.
The hope that nothing more would be heard of the difficulty was
frustrated by the action of the Californian Legislature. In May, 1913,
in spite of the opposition of the Federal Authorities, it passed a law
giving the right of owning land only to “aliens eligible to
citizenship.” The passing of this law caused renewed resentment in
Japan, where, notwithstanding the form in which it was worded, it was
correctly interpreted as being aimed at Japanese residents. The Japanese
Government at once protested on the ground that Japanese subjects being
debarred from naturalization in America the law in question
discriminated unfairly against them, and was in effect a violation of
Japan’s treaty rights. This view the American Government declined to
accept, supporting the action of the State by the argument that every
nation had the right to determine such questions for itself. The
correspondence between the two Governments continued for some time
without any settlement being reached. It was published at the request of
Japan in 1914. This discrimination between the Japanese and other
aliens, who, unlike them, are eligible for naturalization as American
citizens, remains a sore point with the Japanese people, and is a
stumbling-block in the relations between Japan and America.
Opposition to Japanese labour immigration was not confined to the United
States. Similar anti-Japanese feeling arose in Canada. In consequence of
the outbreak of disturbances due to this cause a Canadian Mission was
sent to Japan in November, 1907, for the purpose of restricting this
emigration within what were described as proper limits, and thus
averting any renewal of the trouble that had occurred. The object of the
mission was attained by an exchange of Notes between the head of the
mission, Mr. Lemieux, and the Japanese Minister for Foreign Affairs. By
the arrangement arrived at—which may have facilitated that concluded, as
we have seen, in the following year between America and Japan—the
Japanese Government undertook to adopt effective measures for
restricting this immigration.
Of late years there has been a tendency, both in the Press and in books
about Japan, to associate closely two things which are not necessarily
connected—Japanese expansion and emigration. For instance, the author of
_Contemporary Politics of the Far East_, speaking of Japanese emigration
to the United States, observes that “Japan required room for her excess
[_sic_] population, and outlets for her expanding commerce,” thus
linking the two questions together. And other writers have used similar
language. The tendency referred to is probably due to the fact that,
different as the two things are—one being simply a movement of
population, the other an enlargement of territory—there has in some
countries been a direct connection between them. In Japan this is not
the case. There, both movements have taken place, but they have remained
distinct and separate.
Japanese expansion stands in a category by itself. It has attracted
attention for the reason that it was unexpected, the tendency of
Oriental countries in modern times being to contract rather than extend
their frontiers; from its rapidity and wide extent; and also because it
has been the result either of successful wars or of a policy of
aggrandisement justified, in Japanese opinion, by State necessity.
Far otherwise is it with Japanese emigration. What importance it
possesses is derived not from the scale on which it has hitherto been
conducted—which by comparison with other movements of the kind elsewhere
is insignificant—but from the international difficulties it has
produced, from its association in people’s minds with national
expansion, and from fear of the dimensions it may assume in the future.
Into the many considerations involved in Japanese emigration it is
unnecessary to enter, the question being too wide to be discussed with
advantage within the limits of these pages. A few remarks on the subject
may, however, not be out of place.
The movement is usually held to be due to an excess of population. This,
at least, is the view held by many writers. The increase of population
in Japan has certainly been rapid. In 1872 the population was
thirty-three millions. In 1916 it had risen to nearly fifty-six
millions. Assuming the rate of increase to be maintained, the total
population ten years hence should be well over sixty millions. In the
course of sixty years, therefore, the population will have very nearly
doubled itself. Striking as these figures are, the inference to be drawn
from them is not necessarily that Japan is no longer able to support her
people in their present numbers, and that some further outlet for her
surplus population is, therefore, a necessity. While the rapid increase
of population in a country may serve as a stimulus to emigration, it is
not the sole or even the governing factor in the question. That other
influences count for much is shown by what has taken place in Germany.
Fifty years ago German statesmen had good ground for anxiety in the
growing statistics of German emigration to the United States. Before the
end of the century the movement was arrested, and soon afterwards ceased
altogether. The two chief causes of this change were the increase of
wealth and industrial development. Japanese emigration to certain
countries may before long, for the same reasons, show a similar decline.
The industrial development of Japan has kept pace with her progress in
other respects. Her financial position has also changed. Instead of
being a debtor to the world, as she was before the Great War, she has
now become to an appreciable extent its creditor. Although, moreover,
parts of Japan may be overcrowded, there still remain large areas in the
northern islands, and in her newly acquired territories on the mainland,
which are still sparsely populated. The pressure of increasing
population alone does not seem likely to affect emigration in any marked
degree in the near future. A cause more powerful, and in its operation
more constant, may be found in the natural energy and enterprise of the
people, stimulated, perhaps, by their release from the enforced
isolation of the past. This supposition is supported by the wide
distribution of Japanese emigration, and by the varied nature of the
pursuits in which Japanese emigrants engage abroad. Though, as has
already been observed, the Japanese have not, as yet, disclosed any
special aptitude for colonization of the pioneering type, they are to be
met with to-day in South America and elsewhere as workers on the land,
and traders; in Australasia as pearl-fishers; in China, the Straits
Settlements and Java, as well as in India and Australia, as traders and
shopkeepers; in Manchuria as agricultural labourers and farmers, the
Korean immigrants there having since the annexation of Korea become
Japanese subjects; on the coasts of the northern and southern Pacific as
fishermen; in America and Canada as traders, farmers, shopkeepers,
market-gardeners and labourers; and in the Malay States as planters.
In its inception, it may be added, Japanese emigration took the form of
indentured labour. The first labour emigrants went to Hawaii—not then
annexed to America—under conditions regulated by the Japanese and
Hawaiian Governments; and it was the surreptitious entry of many of
these labourers into California from Hawaii that first aroused American
hostility. The development of this branch of emigration—encouraged by
agencies established for the purpose, but still subject, as before, to a
certain measure of official supervision—would seem to be a mere question
of supply and demand. The future of other emigration will depend on the
degree of opposition, or competition, it encounters. So far, however, as
the United States and Canada are concerned, the hostility it has evoked,
and the willingness of the Japanese Government to co-operate in its
restriction, suggest that the number of emigrants to those countries
will gradually decline.
The immediate results of Japan’s success in the Russo-Japanese war were,
as we have seen, the establishment of a protectorate over Korea and the
negotiation of a Treaty with China, confirming certain provisions of the
Treaty of Portsmouth concerning the transfer to her of the Russian lease
of Port Arthur and of the southern portion of the Manchurian railway.
Anxious to devote herself to the task of consolidating her new position
in the Far East, Japan during the next few years was as busily engaged
in negotiating treaties and agreements with other Powers as she had been
in the fifteen years of treaty-making which followed the signature of
Perry’s Treaty. In 1907 she concluded an arrangement for safeguarding
peace in the Far East with France; a similar Agreement with Russia (in
the form of a Convention), which, however, included a mutual pledge to
respect the territorial integrity and the rights of each accruing from
arrangements in force between it and China; a Commercial Treaty, a
Fisheries Treaty and a Consular Protocol with the same country; an
Agreement with China regarding the Simmintun, Mukden and Kirin Railway;
and a fresh Treaty with Korea, which placed all administrative authority
in the peninsula in the hands of the Japanese Resident-General. The
following year witnessed the negotiation of an Arbitration Treaty with
the United States, as well as an exchange of Notes between the same two
Governments for the declared purpose of preserving the independence and
territorial integrity of China. Two other arrangements testified to her
treaty-making activity. One of these was another railway Agreement, made
in 1907, with China. On this occasion the railway in question was the
line now connecting Mukden with the port of Antung. It was presumably
this fresh railway Agreement which induced the American Government to
submit to other Powers interested in the Far East in the autumn of the
same year a proposal for the neutralization of Manchurian railways. Far
from being accepted by Russia and Japan—the two Powers chiefly
concerned—the proposal only resulted in the conclusion in the following
year of an Agreement by which each undertook to maintain, by joint
action, if necessary, the existing _status quo_ in Manchuria.
The other, of a very different character, was a Treaty with Korea
annexing that country to Japan, which was signed at Seoul in August,
1910, by the Japanese Resident-General and the Korean Minister-Resident.
The annexation of a country by Treaty in the absence of prior
hostilities was an unusual procedure for which no precedent existed. No
less remarkable than the method adopted was the fact that Article 8 of
the instrument recorded with unconscious irony the consent of the
Sovereign of the annexed State to the loss of its independence. This
independence Japan had on several occasions announced her intention to
respect in engagements entered into with other Powers—with China, with
Russia and with Great Britain, as well as with Korea herself. Her
annexation of Korea, being for this reason unexpected, met with much
unfavourable criticism abroad. The course, however, that she had adopted
at the outset of her wars with China and Russia of making free use of
Korean territory showed that she was not disposed to let the wishes, or
convenience, of the Korean people stand in the way of military
operations. The protectorate she had already established over Korea in
1905, and her assumption of the control of administration in that
country two years later, were also ominous indications of what might
happen later. Some justification of the final act of annexation,
singular as the method employed may have been, is to be found in the
fact that the chronic disturbances in Korea, for which Japan was by no
means solely responsible, had led to two wars, and that there was some
blunt truth in the statement in the preamble to the Treaty, which
declared one of the objects of annexation to be the preservation of
peace in the Far East. It may even be said that an unprejudiced observer
of the condition of affairs in Korea in the years previous to the
establishment of the protectorate would have no hesitation in holding
the view that Japanese administration of that country is preferable,
even in the interests of the Koreans themselves, to the shocking
misgovernment of the past.
The signature of the Treaty of Annexation was accompanied by a
Declaration on the part of the Japanese Government announcing certain
arrangements designed to lessen any irritation which the abrupt and
arbitrary annulment of Korea’s treaties with other countries might
occasion. These concessions to foreign feeling included matters relating
to jurisdiction, Customs, tonnage duties and the coasting trade. Four
years later the foreign settlements in Korea were abolished with the
consent of the Powers concerned.
Her Revised Treaties with foreign Powers, which came into operation in
1899 for a term of twelve years, gave Japan the right to denounce them
at the end of that period—in other words, to announce her intention to
terminate them by giving the twelve months’ notice required. This notice
was given by Japan to all the Treaty Powers in July, 1910. The liberty
to conclude new treaties when the term of notice expired involved a
point of essential importance, the recovery of tariff autonomy—the
right, that is to say, to control her own tariff. Negotiations for the
conclusion of new treaties were at once set on foot, the first to be
concluded being that with the United States, which was signed in
February of the following year; the second, the Treaty with Great
Britain, which followed a few months later. The new treaties came into
force in July of the same year, the period of operation being twelve
years. The first public recognition of the increasing importance of
Japan in the Far East occurred, as we have seen, when she was included
in the list of Powers consulted by the American Government in 1899 in
regard to the observance of the principle of the “open door” and “equal
opportunity” in China. By her success in the Russo-Japanese war six
years later she established her claim to be regarded as a leading Power
in the Far East. Her position, nevertheless, was inferior in one respect
to that of the Western States, for she had not the entire control of her
tariff. With the conclusion of the new treaties, by which this last
disability was removed, she took rank on a footing of complete equality
with the great Powers of the world.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Rise of Japan and Germany Compared—Renewal of Anglo-Japanese
Alliance—Japan and the Great War—Military and Naval Expansion—Japan and
China—The Twenty-one Demands—Agreement with Russia regarding
China—Lansing-Ishii Agreement—Effects of Great War on Situation in Far
East.
The rise of Japan finds a parallel in that of Germany. There are,
indeed, in the circumstances attending the development of the two
countries not a few points of resemblance. In each case the direct cause
was military success, and in each the long existence of feudalism had
the effect of rendering a naturally warlike people submissive to the
will of its rulers and responsive to the teaching of tradition. In each
loyalty to the Throne was accompanied by an exaggerated form of
patriotism, which needed only opportunity to become aggressive. In each,
again, autocratic instincts, the centralization of authority, and the
pressure of a powerful bureaucracy, combined to exalt the State at the
expense of the individual. And though the personal rule of the
Sovereign, so conspicuous in German history, was lacking in Japan, its
absence was more than compensated for by the popular belief in the
divine descent of the monarch.
Under these circumstances it is not surprising that Germany should have
been chosen as the model for so many of the new institutions established
in the course of the Meiji era, or that the modern Japan which
ultimately took shape should in many of its characteristics come to bear
a still closer resemblance to the country whence so much had been
borrowed. A nation that in the process of its evolution draws upon
others so freely as Japan has done inevitably imbibes ideas which affect
its whole outlook on the world. What happened in early days, when Japan
adopted the written language, ethics, and administrative system of
China, occurred again, though in a lesser degree, when she became the
pupil of Germany in matters relating to administration, law and military
science. Thus the Constitution itself, framed, as we have seen, on a
German model, reserved all real power in important matters of State to
the Crown; while the adoption of the German system of military
organization and training increased the influence of the army and
encouraged the growth of militarism.
Describing the position acquired by Germany at the time when William II
succeeded to the Throne as King of Prussia and German Emperor, Mr. S. J.
Hill, at one time U.S. Ambassador in Berlin, in his _Impressions of the
Kaiser_, says: “The unity of the German States was secure ... and the
work of Bismarck was complete. That the Empire was an achievement of
superior military force on the part of Prussia, and in no sense a
creation of the German people, was universally understood.” His
statement is confirmed by an article which appeared in August, 1918, in
a German newspaper, the _Arbeiter Zeitung_. “It is,” it says, “to the
Monarchy, the Junkerdom and the Army that the German _bourgeoisie_ owes
the establishment of the new Empire, which was followed by so tremendous
a development of economic strength, wealth and power.”
Japan at the moment of which we are speaking had, in like manner,
achieved a unity of a kind unknown before. In the realization of her
ambition to become a great Power she had triumphantly overcome all the
difficulties inherent in the process of transition from conditions
imposed by centuries of isolation to the new circumstances of a modern
State. The work of the group of statesmen successively engaged in the
task of reconstruction was, like that of Bismarck, complete. And it was
generally acknowledged that all that had been accomplished had been done
by the Government, and not by the Japanese people.
The Government clothed with this prestige was still a Government of two
clans, which had gained their predominance by military strength, and
retained it for the same reason; the portfolios of War and the Navy,
and, with these, the control of the forces of the State, having become,
so to speak, a monopoly of Satsuma and Chōshiū clansmen, who, as heads
of these departments, were virtually independent of the Ministry of the
day. The results of the dominating influence of the two clans in the
administration, and the supremacy of German ideas in the army, had
already shown themselves in the growth of a strong military party; in a
cry for national expansion beyond existing frontiers, which seemed to
have less reason behind it than the Pan-Slavist and Pan-German racial
aspirations in Europe; in the development of the simple feudal maxims of
_Bushidō_ into what came near to being a national creed; and in the
increase of Chauvinistic writing in a section of the Press. Under these
circumstances it was not surprising if from this time forward a louder
note should be heard in diplomatic utterances, and a more aggressive
tone appear in foreign policy.
This change of attitude in matters of foreign policy may be traced in
the successive alterations that took place in the terms of the
Anglo-Japanese alliance. The original Agreement of 1902 related only to
China and Korea, the contracting parties recognizing the independence of
both States and declaring themselves “to be entirely uninfluenced by any
aggressive tendencies in either country.” When the Agreement was renewed
in August, 1905, its application was extended so as to include Eastern
Asia and India. No more is heard of the independence of Korea, but
Japan’s paramount rights in that country are recognized, subject only to
the maintenance of the principle of “equal opportunity,” this
recognition being followed three months later by the establishment of a
Japanese protectorate. In the Agreement when renewed again in 1911 all
reference to Korea disappears, that country having the year before been
annexed to Japan.
Nor was this change of attitude due entirely to a consciousness of new
power and increased prestige. In copying other countries as closely as
was done the process of imitation had been carried so far as to extend
to the adoption of principles which were not regarded with unqualified
approval even in the countries where they originated. An instance in
point is the enforcement by the Japanese Government in China of
extra-territoriality, against which, when applied to Japan by Western
Governments, it had constantly protested on the ground that the
principle was incompatible with the sovereignty of a State.
The action of Japan on the outbreak of the Great War in August, 1914, at
once dispelled all doubt which may have existed as to her participation
in it. It also showed that she had no intention of playing a purely
passive rôle. Within a fortnight after the commencement of hostilities
between Great Britain and Germany the Japanese Government presented an
ultimatum to the latter Power demanding the immediate withdrawal from
Japanese and Chinese waters of all German vessels of war, and the
evacuation by a given date of the leased territory of Kiaochow, with a
view to its eventual restoration to China. The ultimatum was followed a
week later by a declaration of war. It has been suggested that this
swift action frustrated a design on the part of Germany to remove the
leased territory from the field of hostilities by handing it back to
China for the period of the war. Both in the ultimatum and in the
declaration of war reference was made to the Anglo-Japanese alliance,
which had been renewed in 1905 during the Russo-Japanese war, and again
in 1911, when an Arbitration Treaty was in process of negotiation
between Great Britain and the United States. This marked allusion to the
alliance pointed to the conclusion that Japan’s entry into the war was
in pursuance of a special understanding between the Governments
concerned. It was, however, no secret that the acquisition of Kiaochow
by Germany had been as displeasing to Japan as the Russian occupation of
Port Arthur, nor was it unreasonable to suppose that she would welcome
the first occasion that might come to get rid of the obnoxious intruder.
The opportunity furnished by her entry into the war was promptly seized.
A strong expeditionary force, which included a contingent of British
troops, was organized, and by the first week of November the German flag
had ceased to float at Kiaochow. The Japanese occupation in the previous
month of the Caroline, Marshall and Marianne, or Ladrone, groups of
islands contributed to the elimination of Germany from the Pacific.
The war that gave Japan the excuse she needed to destroy the German
foothold in China presented her with other opportunities of
strengthening her position in the Far East. The magnitude of the
military operations in Europe absorbed all the energies of the
belligerent States which had interests in Eastern Asia. They were unable
to devote much attention to Far Eastern affairs. Japan thus acquired a
liberty of action which under other circumstances might possibly have
been denied to her.
In an article contributed in 1914 to the November number of the _Shin
Nippon_, or “New Japan,” a magazine published in Tōkiō, Marquis Ōkuma,
who was then Premier, pointed out that the tendency of the times was
such as to justify the assumption that in the distant future a few
strong nations would govern the rest of the world, and that Japan must
prepare herself to become one of these governing nations. And when
addressing the Diet in the following month he stated, in explanation of
the programme of naval and military expansion submitted to Parliament,
that in order to make Japanese diplomatic dealings more effective an
increase of force was needed. The lengths to which the Japanese
Government was prepared to go in order to render its diplomacy more
effective were disclosed when in January, 1915, the Japanese Minister in
Peking presented directly to the President of the Chinese Republic the
well-known twenty-one Demands.
Divided into several groups, the Demands in the first four included the
assent of China to whatever might afterwards be agreed upon between
Japan and Germany in regard to the German leased territory in Shantung
taken by the Japanese in the previous November; the non-alienation by
China to a third Power of any territory in that province or any island
along its coast; concessions for railway construction, and the opening
of further places for foreign trade in the same province; the extension
from twenty-five to ninety-nine years—the term of the German lease of
Kiaochow—of the terms of the former Russian leases of Port Arthur, Dalny
and the South Manchurian Railway, and of the subsequent Japanese lease
of the Antun-Mukden Railway; the control and management of the
Kirin-Changchun Railway, when completed, to be granted to Japan for the
same term of ninety-nine years; the grant of mining rights to Japan in
South Manchuria and Eastern Inner Mongolia; the consent of Japan to be
obtained prior to permission being given to other foreigners to build
railways, or make loans for railway construction in the territories in
question, or prior to the pledging of local taxes in those territories
as security for loans made to China by a third Power; Japan to be
consulted before the employment by China in the same territories of any
political, financial, or military advisers; concessions giving Japan
practical control over the valuable coal and iron mines near Hankow
belonging to the Hanyeiping Company, which had borrowed money from
Japanese firms; and non-alienation to a third Power of any harbour, bay,
or island on the coast of China. A further fifth group of Demands
included an undertaking on the part of China to employ “influential
Japanese as advisers in political, financial and military affairs”; to
grant to Japanese hospitals, churches and schools in the interior of
China the right of owning land—a right still withheld from foreigners in
Japan; to place the police administration of all important places in
China under joint Japanese and Chinese control, or, in lieu of this
concession, to employ a large number of Japanese in the police
departments of those places; to purchase from Japan 50 per cent, or
more, of all munitions of war needed by China, or, in lieu of this
concession, to arrange for the establishment in China of an arsenal
under the joint management of Japanese and Chinese, the material
required to be purchased from Japan; to grant further concessions for
railway construction in the interior of China; to consult Japan before
employing foreign capital for the working of mines, and the construction
of railways, harbours and dockyards in the province of Fuhkien; and to
grant to Japanese subjects the right to propagate religious doctrines in
China. This last point concerned, of course, only Buddhist missionary
propaganda, since the propagation of Shintō doctrine in a foreign
country was obviously impossible. Its inclusion in the list of demands
may seem strange in view of the religious indifference of the Japanese
people. The reasons for it may be found in the desire of the Japanese
Government to overlook no point which might serve to place Japan on a
footing of equality in all respects with Western countries, and its wish
to utilize the services of Buddhist missionaries to obtain information
about matters in the interior of China.
The startling character of these Demands, no less than the peremptory
manner in which they were made, provoked some public criticism even in
Japan, and led to enquiries from more than one foreign Government. In
the course of the negotiations which ensued at Peking the Chinese raised
objections to several points. Eventually the last-mentioned group of
Demands was withdrawn for the time being, the Japanese Minister for
Foreign Affairs explaining that they were never points on which his
Government had intended to insist. Some modifications, moreover, were
made in the other groups in order to meet Chinese objections. The
Demands thus revised were presented afresh in April, a time limit being
named for their acceptance, and on the 9th May the Chinese Government
yielded to the pressure and signified its consent. The various points on
which the Japanese Government insisted were finally settled on the 25th
May by the conclusion of Treaties, the exchange of Notes and the making
of Declarations, all bearing that date, as suited the convenience of
Japan.
It is difficult to reconcile the assurances repeatedly given by Japanese
statesmen as to the absence of any aggressive intentions in regard to
China with the policy represented by the Demands above mentioned. Nor is
it possible to deny that the pressure thus put upon China constituted
just such an interference in the internal affairs of a neighbouring
State as the Press of Japan had been the first to denounce.
The various engagements entered into between Japan and Russia in the
years shortly following the Treaty of Portsmouth, more especially the
Agreement of 1907, to which reference has already been made, were in
themselves signs of a relaxation of the tension created by the
Russo-Japanese war. And when in 1910 the two Powers concluded the
Agreement for maintaining the _status quo_ in Manchuria, which blocked
the Knox proposal for neutralizing all railways in that region, it
became dear that they discerned the mutual advantage to be gained by
working together in the Far East. This common policy, if it may be so
called, was strengthened after the outbreak of the Great War by the
conclusion of a secret Treaty in the summer of 1916, a moment when the
war was not progressing very favourably for the Allies. By this Treaty,
signed in the Russian capital, the contracting parties recognized that
“the vital interests” of both required “the safeguarding of China from
the political domination of any third Power whatsoever having hostile
designs against Russia or Japan.” Whatever hopes may have been
entertained in either country from the closer co-operation in China
established by this Treaty were put an end to by the Russian revolution
in the spring of 1917. It is unnecessary to emphasize the important
bearing on Far Eastern affairs of this event, and of its sequel—the
military collapse of Russia. The mere fact that China was thus freed
from the danger of a combined aggression which she was powerless to
resist speaks for itself.
In the autumn of the same year, by which time America had been drawn
into the war, Japan, still intent on consolidating her position in the
Far East, entered into negotiations at Washington with the United States
in regard to the policy to be pursued by the two countries in China. The
Japanese negotiator designated as special ambassador for this purpose
was Viscount Ishii, who had recently been Minister for Foreign Affairs,
and had previously visited America in an official capacity. By the
understanding arrived at in November of that year, known as the
Lansing-Ishii Agreement, the United States Government formally
recognized, though without defining them, the special interests of Japan
in China arising out of geographical propinquity—a concession which
tended to extend the liberty of action which Japan had already acquired
as a result of the war. The reason for the conclusion of this Agreement,
as stated in the Notes exchanged on this occasion, “was in order to
silence mischievous reports” that had from time to time been circulated.
Another reason may well have been the wish to clear the ground for
American and Japanese business co-operation in China, which had been
advocated for some time in the Japanese Press, and received some measure
of support from capitalists in both countries. The idea was not welcomed
by the American community in China, and the efforts made in this
direction do not appear to have been attended with any striking success
during the continuance of the war.
In the military intervention of the Allied and Associated Powers in
Siberia Japan took a prominent part. The course of events in Russia
after the revolution caused uneasiness in Great Britain and France. When
the Bolsheviks gained control of affairs, the German and
Austro-Hungarian prisoners of war, who, owing to the disintegration of
the former Russian armies had regained their liberty, and were free to
uphold German ambitions, made common cause with them; and it was felt
that there was danger of these combined forces spreading through Central
and Eastern Siberia. How best to meet this danger, and at the same time
to relieve the Czecho-Slovak troops, composed of ex-prisoners of war,
who had refused to join the Bolsheviks and were retreating along the
Trans-Siberian Railway, was a question which forced itself on the
attention of the Governments concerned. The idea of sending an
expeditionary force for this double purpose was first mooted in the
summer of 1917, but it was not until a year later that an understanding
was effected. In this military intervention six of the Allied and
Associated Powers were represented, Japan, owing to her nearness to the
scene of action, being the first to place troops on the spot.
Meanwhile, in view of the same danger and for the same objects, the
Japanese and Chinese Governments had some months before (in May, 1918)
concluded a secret military Agreement for Common Defence for the
duration of the war, by which arrangements were made for the
co-operation of Japanese and Chinese troops both in Chinese and Russian
territory. In the following September “detailed stipulations” were
attached to the Agreement. One of these provided that Chinese troops
when operating in Russian territory should be under the control of a
Japanese commander. A similar Naval Agreement was concluded at the same
time. In pursuance of the Military Agreement considerable Japanese and
Chinese forces were mobilized and employed in operations in Chinese
territory and across the Russian border.
The conspicuous services rendered by the navy of Japan throughout the
war earned the warm appreciation of her allies; the work done in
clearing the seas of predatory enemy craft, convoying troopships from
the British dominions to Europe and combating the submarine menace,
deserving, as indeed it received, the highest praise. If at times there
may have appeared to be a disposition in certain Japanese circles to
anticipate the success of German arms, and if the pro-German sympathies
of a section of the public may have seemed to assert themselves too
loudly, allowance should be made for the large extent to which German
ideas had been utilized in the making of modern Japan, and for the
natural tendency of army officers to believe in the invincibility of the
nation in whose military methods they had been trained.
The Peace Conference which assembled in Paris in January, 1919, set the
seal on Japanese ambitions. The representatives of Japan took part in
all important deliberations on a footing of recognized equality with
those of Great Britain, France, Italy and the United States, while, as
one of the Great Powers composing the Supreme Council, Japan has had a
voice in the decisions that have guided the destinies of the world.
CHAPTER XXIX
The Japanese Family System.
More than once in the course of this narrative has reference been made
to the Japanese family system, the influence of which is responsible for
so much that is distinctive in the political and social life of the
people. A short sketch of this system, as it works to-day, may therefore
be not without interest for the reader.
Prior to July, 1898, when the present Civil Code came into force,
matters concerning family law were governed by local custom, which
varied not only in each province, but often in different districts of
the same province. All such matters are now dealt with in accordance
with the provisions of Books IV and V of this Code, and in accordance
with the complementary Law of Registration, which came into operation in
a revised form on the same date as the Code. The working of the family
system since then has, therefore, been uniform throughout the country.
Before going further it may be well to explain what is meant by the word
“family” in Japanese law. It denotes something to which we have nothing
analogous. It means a grouping of persons bearing the same surname and
subject to the authority of one who is the head of the family, and who
may or may not be the common parent, or ancestor; and it is in this
sense that the term “member of a family” is used in the Code, and in the
complementary law above mentioned. This family, which may be comprised
in one household, or may embrace several, may be the main branch of the
parent stock, or only a cadet branch. In either case it constitutes what
is known to the law as a family; succession to the headship of it is
regulated by strict provisions; and the person who is its head is
invested with certain well-defined authority. Kinship is not essential
to membership in this family group, for the law provides that a relative
of an adopted person may under certain circumstances become a member of
the family which the latter has entered.
There is, however, another and larger family group which consists of all
those who stand towards each other in the position of kindred as defined
in Article 725 of the Code. In this latter group, which finds its
embodiment, so to speak, in family councils, lies to a great extent the
key to the real position of the individual in Japan.
The Japanese family system is thus a combination of relatives into two
groups, and every Japanese, therefore, is to be regarded in two
capacities: first as a member of the smaller family group—the legal
family—and, as such, unless he is head of the family himself, subject to
the authority of its head; and, secondly, as a member of the wider group
of kindred, with whom he is closely connected by rights and duties, and
as such, whatever his position in the family may be, subject in certain
matters to the control of family councils. But the position of a
Japanese in his dual capacity as a member of both the smaller and larger
family groups has little in it of the permanency and stability which are
found in our family life. It is affected not only, as with us, by
marriage and divorce, but is also liable to constant change by
separation from the family through adoption, and its dissolution,
through abdication or other causes mentioned in the Code, and by the
conditional liberty given to a person to change his family allegiance,
so to speak, and transfer himself from the authority of one head of a
family to that of another. The artificial character of both groups is
likewise heightened by the frequency of adoption, which so closely
resembles kinship that no material difference exists between the two.
In noting briefly the main features of the Japanese family system it
will be convenient to begin with those which have their counterpart in
Roman Law, namely, parental authority, the position of women, the custom
of adoption, and the religious rites of the family.
PARENTAL AUTHORITY.—It is doubtful if at any time parental authority in
Japan ever approached the rigour of the Roman _patria potestas_,
although in the now obsolete Codes offences were punished more severely
when committed by children against parents than when the reverse was the
case. The doctrine of filial piety, however, which inspired this
discrimination, never in practice excluded the duties of parents to
children. In Japan, moreover, parental authority has always been subject
to two weakening influences—the intervention of family councils, and the
custom of abdication. It now includes both paternal authority, and, in
certain cases, maternal authority, a thing unknown to Roman law. This
authority, never of a joint nature, is exercised over children who are
“members of the family” of the parent in question during their minority,
and even afterwards so long as they do not earn an independent living.
Japanese law speaks of a person as a child, irrespective of age, as long
as either of the parents is alive, and a parent’s right to maintenance
by a son, or daughter, has precedence over the rights in that respect of
the latter’s children and spouse.
POSITION OF WOMEN.—The legal position of women in Japan before modern
legislative changes is well illustrated by the fact that offences came
under different categories according to their commission by the wife
against the husband, or by the husband against the wife, and by the
curious anomaly that, while the husband stood in the first degree of
relationship to his wife, the latter stood to him only in the second.
The disabilities under which a woman formerly laboured shut her out from
the exercise of almost all rights. The maxim _Mulier est finis familiæ_
(“The family ends with a woman”) was as true in Japan as in Rome, though
the observance may have been less strict owing to the greater frequency
of adoption. All this has been greatly changed. In no respect has
greater progress been made than in the improvement of the position of
women. Though, like those of her sex in other lands, she still labours
under certain disabilities, a woman can now become the head of a family;
she can inherit and own property, and manage it herself; she can
exercise parental authority; if single or a widow, she can adopt; she
can act as guardian, or curator; and she has a voice in family councils.
ADOPTION.—The desire to preserve the continuity of a family is usually
the motive of adoption wherever the custom is found; and in countries
like Japan, where ancestor-worship has survived in the practice of
family rites, the anxiety to make due provision for the performance of
these rites has acted as an additional incentive. But nowhere else,
probably, has adoption been conducted on so large a scale, or played so
important a part in the social life of the community that has practised
it. It is not limited, as with us, to the adoption of minors, for the
adoption of adults is as common as that of children. Nor is it confined
to the adoption at any one time of a single individual, the adoption of
a married couple, though somewhat rare, being a recognized custom. Nor
does any character of finality attach to the act, for a person may
adopt, or be adopted, more than once, and adoption may be dissolved or
annulled.
The elaborate treatment given to the custom in the Civil Code testifies
to its importance in Japanese social life, and at the same time shows
the extent to which the interests of the individual in this respect are
subordinated to those of the family.
Before leaving the subject it may be well to remind the reader that in
the case of the Imperial Family the custom of adoption was, as already
mentioned, abolished some years ago.
FAMILY RITES.—The characteristic attitude of mind towards religious
matters, referred to in an earlier chapter, which enables a Japanese
writer to describe his countrymen as being dualist in respect of
religion, is reflected in Japanese family, or household, rites. Before
the introduction of Buddhism in the sixth century each household had its
_kamidana_, or Shintō altar, which is a plain wooden shelf. On this the
cenotaphs of deceased members of the family were placed. The adoption of
Buddhism led to the introduction of a _butsudan_, or Buddhist altar,
which is a miniature shrine of wood, and to this the ancestral cenotaphs
were transferred. But the Shintō altar remained, and served as the
depository of charms from the chief Shintō shrine, the _Daijingū_ of
Isé, as well as of charms from the shrines dedicated to the various
tutelary deities of members of the family, and, in spite of the Shintō
revival that accompanied the Restoration of 1868–9, the two altars, with
their respective uses, have remained unchanged.
The performance of family rites in the strictest manner is usually
confined to the upper classes and well-to-do farmers. In the worship of
Shintō deities these rites consist of reverential obeisances made every
morning before the Shintō altar, the lighting of a small lamp on it
every evening and the presentation of offerings of rice and _saké_ on
certain days of each month. From time to time also branches of the
_Cleyera japonica_ are laid on the altar. The ancestral rites conducted
before the Buddhist altar differ in some points of detail according to
the professed religion, Shintō or Buddhist, of the family. In each case,
however, the cenotaph of the deceased person, which is a small wooden
tablet bearing the posthumous name or date of death, is placed on, or in
front of, the Buddhist altar. When these cenotaphs become too numerous,
one or two are made to serve for all. Offerings of food are made, and
religious services held on various anniversaries of the death. On these
occasions a feast is also provided. In Buddhist households the Buddhist
altar is never without flowers, while offerings of tea and rice are
made, and incense sticks lighted, every morning. During the annual
“Festival of the Dead,” which is not recognized by the _Shin_, or
_Montō_, sect of Buddhists, more elaborate rites are performed.
The other features of the family system which remain to be noticed are
the position occupied by the head of a family, succession thereto,
abdication, family councils, marriage and registration.
HEADSHIP OF FAMILY.—In Japan the parental authority and the authority
exercised by the head of a family are quite distinct, but the two may be
vested in the same individual, who may be a woman. When vested in
different individuals, they represent a sort of _condominium_, as, for
instance, in cases where the consent not only of the parent, but of the
head of the family, is required.
The head of a family exercises authority over all its members whom the
law recognizes as such. It is not necessary that these should form part
of his or her household, for, as has already been explained, the group
represented by the word family may embrace several households. Nor need
they be relatives, though usually some tie of kinship exists. This
authority includes the right of consent to the marriage and divorce, the
adoption, and the dissolution of adoption, of each member of the family;
the right of determining his or her place of residence; and the right of
expelling such person from the family, and of forbidding his or her
return to it. The head of a family has also the right of succession to
property in default of other heirs. But the headship of a family carries
with it also duties and responsibilities; the duty of supporting
indigent members of it; the duty, under certain circumstances, of
guardianship, and responsibility for the debts of all.
Save in exceptional cases, succession to the headship of a family is
limited to persons who are “members of the family,” in the legal sense
of the term. These rank according to the degree of relationship. Failing
lineal descendants, an heir may be appointed in other ways defined by
the Code.
ABDICATION.—What for want of a better word is generally known to
foreigners by the term abdication is the retirement of a person from the
position of head of a family. As women can under the Civil Code become
heads of families, it follows that abdication is no prerogative of the
male sex.
Japanese scholars who have investigated the subject, notably Professors
Hozumi and Shigéno, agree in tracing the origin of the present custom to
the abdication of sovereigns, instances of which occur at an early
period of Japanese history. These earlier abdications were independent
of religious influences, but with the advent of Buddhism abdication
entered upon a new phase. In imitation, it would seem, of the retirement
of head priests of Buddhist monasteries, abdicating monarchs shaved
their heads and entered the priesthood; and when, later on, the custom
came to be employed for political purposes the cloak of religion was
retained. From the Throne the custom spread to regents and high officers
of State; and so universal had its observance, amongst officials of the
higher ranks, become in the twelfth century that, as Professor Shigéno
states, it was almost the rule for such persons to retire from the world
at the age of forty or fifty, and nominally enter the priesthood, both
the act and the person performing it being termed _niūdō_. In the course
of time the custom of abdication ceased to be confined to officials, and
extended to the feudal nobility, and the military class generally,
whence it spread through the nation. At this stage of its transition its
connection with the phase it finally assumed becomes clear. But with its
extension beyond the circle of official dignitaries, and its consequent
severance from tradition and religious associations, whether real or
nominal, abdication changed its name. It was no longer termed _niūdō_
(entrance into religion), but _inkio_ (retirement), the old word being
retained only in its strictly religious meaning; and _inkio_ is the term
in use to-day.
The connection of the custom with religion having long since vanished,
the Japanese of the present day who abdicates is in no way actuated by
the feeling that impelled European monarchs in past time to end their
days in the seclusion of the cloister, and which finds expression in the
phrase “to make one’s soul.” Apart from the influence of traditional
convention, which explains the great hold upon the nation acquired by
the custom, the motive seems to be somewhat akin to that which leads
people in other countries to retire from active life at an age when
bodily infirmity cannot be adduced as the reason. In the one case,
however, it is the business, or profession, the active work of life,
which is relinquished, while in Japan it is the position of head of a
family which is given up, the result being the effacement of the
individual so far as the family is concerned. Moreover, although
abdication usually implies the abandonment of business, this does not
necessarily follow. That in many cases the reason for abdication lies in
the wish to escape from the tyrannical calls of family life, encumbered
as it is with legal duties and responsibilities, as well as tedious
ceremonies, is shown by the fact that the period of a person’s greatest
activity not infrequently dates from the time of his withdrawal from the
headship of the family.
As in the case of adoption, abdication is now more strictly regulated
than formerly. Women are permitted to abdicate irrespective of age; but
a man is not allowed to abdicate until he has attained sixty years of
age, except under certain conditions imposed by law.
FAMILY COUNCILS.—Family councils represent, as has already been
explained, the larger of the two groups into which Japanese society may
be regarded as divided. They usurp many of the functions which we are
accustomed to associate with Courts of Law, and, though an appeal may
always be made to the latter from the decision of a council, apart from
the reluctance of most people to take this step, the chances of success
are too remote to favour its frequent adoption.
Family councils are of two kinds: those convened for the determination
of some particular question; and those which are established for the
purpose of taking charge of the affairs of persons without legal
capacity. The former are dissolved when the question at issue has been
settled; the latter continue until the legal incapacity ceases. The
summoning of a council and the selection of its members rest with a
court of law, but in certain cases the members may be appointed by will.
The functions of family councils cover a wide field, ranging from giving
consent to marriage and adoption to protecting the interests of a minor
in cases where the interests of parent and child conflict. Their
authority in no way diminishes the influence brought to bear upon an
individual by the wide circle of relations from whom they are chosen,
but rather serves to increase it; nor does their existence as a species
of family tribunal preclude the settlement of family matters in an
informal manner without recourse to the elaborate machinery provided by
the law.
MARRIAGE.—Before the present Civil Code came into operation the question
of marriage was regulated by fragmentary enactments issued from time to
time, which dealt with various points connected with marriage and
divorce, but never with the subject as a whole. Validity of marriage is
quite independent of the marriage ceremony, which is a purely social
function. Marriage is effected simply by registration. Notice is given
to a registrar by both parties and two witnesses who are of age. This
notice may be either verbal or written. When the registrar has satisfied
himself that the marriage is in accordance with the provisions of the
law, the name of the person entering the other’s family is inscribed in
the register of that family and is expunged from the register of the
family to which he, or she, previously belonged. The marriageable age
for men is seventeen years; that for women fifteen. No one who is not
the head of a family can marry without the consent of the head of the
family. In many cases, also, the consent of parents, or of a guardian,
or of a family council, is necessary. Japanese law recognizes two kinds
of divorce: judicial divorce; and divorce by arrangement between the
parties.
FAMILY REGISTRATION.—If proof were needed that society in Japan centres
round the family, and not the individual, it would be supplied by the
institution known as Family Registration. The subject is too complicated
to justify any detailed reference to it in these pages. It will be
sufficient to mention that in every district a separate register is kept
for each house in which the head of a household is also the head of a
family; those whose names appear therein being regarded as having what
is called their “permanent register” (_honséki_) in the place in
question. Persons who are heads of households, but not of families, are
borne on other family registers. Thus the names entered in a family
register at the time it is prepared under the address of a certain house
are not necessarily those of persons who are members of the particular
household indicated. Nor are they necessarily those of persons who were,
or are, resident in the district. They are simply those of all persons
who, irrespective of their place of residence, are members of the family
of which the occupant of the house in question is the head _at the time
when the family register is prepared_. The family, therefore, and not
the household, is the basis of this registration, the house merely
supplying the address where the permanent register is established.
Family registers are prepared (1) when a person establishes a new
family, or (2) when the head of a family chooses to transfer his
permanent register to another place, in which case the previous register
is called “original permanent register” (_genséki_). Except in these
cases, family registration and residence are quite independent of one
another.
As in the case of Status and Residential Registration, matters
concerning family registration are dealt with by the registrar of a
district. It is notice to this official that gives validity to marriage
and divorce, to adoption and its dissolution, to abdication and to
succession to the headship of a family.
CHAPTER XXX
Education.
Before the Restoration the State concerned itself little with education.
There were, indeed, in Yedo, as Tōkiō was then called, two or three
Government schools open to youths of the military class, and similar
institutions existed in the provinces, both in clan territories and in
those of the Shōgun. In these instruction was given in the Chinese
classics and in military accomplishments. Except for this slender
provision for educational needs, the matter was left, to a great extent,
in the hands of the people themselves. Such education as was thought to
be necessary for children other than those of the military class was
obtained in Buddhist temple schools (_terakoya_). In the case of the
military class private tuition took the place of these schools, both for
elementary instruction, and for such further education as might be
desired; it being customary for students above a certain age to become
pupils of some scholar of repute, in whose house they often resided
during their course of study. From the absence of any regular official
control of education it must not be inferred that learning was
discouraged in Japan. On the contrary, it was encouraged from early
times, both by the Court in pre-feudal days and by the later Tokugawa
rulers, with the result that the Japanese nation had, as is well known,
attained a high degree of culture of an Oriental kind before the
reopening of the country to foreign intercourse. But the interest taken
in education was only spasmodic. No attempt was made to systematize it,
and make it a branch of the general administration of the country.
In the programme of the men who effected the Restoration educational
reform occupied a prominent place; but while feudalism lasted not much
could be done. Neither the control of education by one central
authority, nor the defiance of class prejudice by throwing education
open equally to all, was possible. The enlargement of the few existing
colleges, the opening of a few more in places where they were most
needed, the engagement of foreign teachers, and the selection of
students represented all that was attainable for the moment. The desired
opportunity came with the abolition of feudalism, and the disappearance
of the military class. It was in the summer of 1871 that the Decree
which swept away the feudal system was issued; a week or two later the
Department of Education was established; and in the following year
(1872) the first Educational Code was drawn up and promulgated.
Compulsory education for both sexes dates from this time.
To the frankly utilitarian spirit disclosed in the preamble to the Code
the late Baron Kikuchi, at one time Minister of Education, drew
attention in his London lectures on the subject delivered in 1909. In it
there is no mention of religion, nor is anything said about moral
instruction. The Code provided for the creation of no less than eight
universities and a corresponding number of elementary and middle
schools, both being far in excess of the requirements of the country at
that time. No surprise, therefore, was felt when in 1879 this plan was
abandoned, and a scheme better suited to existing conditions adopted in
its place. Nevertheless, in these seven years a good beginning had been
made. The principle of compulsory education for all children between six
and fourteen years of age had been introduced. The Tōkiō University had
been established, and though expectations regarding the growth of middle
schools had not been realized, in the creation and working of elementary
schools satisfactory progress had been made.
The Code of 1879, by which a simpler and more practical form was given
to elementary education, was in its turn replaced by the educational law
of 1886. Under the new measure elementary education was divided into two
courses; more attention was given to normal education; new features in
the shape of moral and physical training were introduced; and the method
of regulating educational affairs by means of Codes was discontinued.
Various changes were made in subsequent years, but the system then
established is, in its main outlines, in force to-day.
At the threshold of the present system lies the kindergarten, formed on
the European model.
The actual system begins with elementary schools. These are of two
kinds, the ordinary, and the higher, elementary schools. In the first
the course extends over six years, and is compulsory for all children
who have completed their sixth year. At thirteen years of age,
therefore, compulsory education ceases. Ordinary elementary education is
free, the cost being met by local taxation.
From the ordinary elementary school the child, boy or girl, whose
education does not stop there, passes on to the higher elementary
school. Here the course lasts for two years, a supplementary course
being provided, as in the case of ordinary elementary schools, for those
desiring it whose education ceases at this stage.
In elementary schools of both kinds boys and girls receive practically
the same education. They are taught in the same schools, and often in
the same classes. It is after this stage that the education of boys and
girls becomes distinct, both as regards the schools and the subjects
taught in them. Elementary schools established by the State are open to
the children of all classes; but there are also private elementary
schools of the same grades, which are recognized by law and are subject
to official supervision.
At the age of fourteen or fifteen a boy enters what is known as a middle
school, where he remains for five years. With the termination of this
course, by which time he is about nineteen years of age, a Japanese
youth has completed his general education. If he elects to go further,
he must specialize, passing to a higher school in preparation for the
University, to a technical school, to the higher normal school, or to
what is termed a “special” (_semmon_) school, as the case may be.
The educational training open to girls on leaving the higher elementary
schools is less extensive. They may enter a high school for girls, which
corresponds more or less to the middle school for boys. Here the course
is from four to five years, with a supplementary course spread over
another two. Or they may enter a normal, or technical school. With the
exception of some higher normal schools, no further provision for the
more advanced education of women is made by the State.
Private enterprise and munificence have done much to supplement the
educational work of the State. Besides the private elementary schools
already mentioned, a certain proportion of the middle schools are also
in private hands, whilst educational facilities of a more advanced
standard are supplied by the flourishing colleges founded by Mr.
Fukuzawa and Marquis Ōkuma. There are also Buddhist schools, and
educational establishments of various kinds wholly or partly maintained
by foreign missionary societies. Nor is the aid thus directed by private
initiative confined to pupils of one sex. To what extent the education
of women has profited is shown by the existence in the Capital of
institutions so well known—to mention only a few—as the Women’s
University founded by Mr. Narusé; the Girls’ College, which owes its
creation to Mrs. Shimoda; and the schools for girls of the nobility, in
which the late Empress, its founder, took special interest.
Let us now see what is taught under the present system of education.
The course of instruction in elementary schools comprises morals;
reading, writing and letter writing, which are grouped together as one
subject called “the Japanese language”; arithmetic and the use of the
abacus, the counting-board of the ancients; gymnastics, drawing and
singing; and (for girls) needlework. In the higher elementary course
three additional subjects—history, geography and science—are included.
What, it may be asked, is meant by instruction in “morals,” the first
subject mentioned in this curriculum? It is based on the principles laid
down in the Imperial Rescript on Education promulgated in 1890, a copy
of which, besides a portrait of the Emperor, hangs on the walls of
elementary schools. Speaking of this, Baron Kikuchi in the lectures
above mentioned says: “Our whole moral and civic education consists in
so imbuing our children with the spirit of the Rescript that it forms a
part of our national life.” No excuse is needed for dwelling at some
length on a point to which he attaches so much importance.
The principles on which stress is laid in the Imperial Rescript are
mostly of a kind with which the reader is more or less familiar, showing
in the reference made to the duties of a Japanese subject to the
Imperial Ancestors, to the Sovereign, to the State, and to society,
their Confucian and Shintō origin. Attention has been drawn to the
absence of any reference to moral teaching in the preamble of the Code
of 1872. The fact that a different note is struck in the Rescript
published eighteen years later does not justify the inference that the
Government had seen reason to change its mind on the subject. For, only
a year before the Rescript appeared, the Department of Education had
issued a notification declaring it to be essential to keep religion and
education apart, and forbidding the teaching of any religious doctrine,
or the conduct of any religious ceremonies, in schools licensed by the
State. It seems correct, therefore, to suppose that the attitude of the
Government in regard to the relation of religion to education remained
unchanged, but that the official mind made a distinction between moral
teaching as identified with religious doctrines, and moral teaching of a
more general kind. This supposition derives support from the close
resemblance which the Rescript bears to a document entitled _A Short
Exhortation to the People_, which was, as we have seen, published and
circulated widely by the new Government in the early days of the
Restoration. The object then in view was to divert to the Sovereign the
old feudal feeling of devotion to the clan chief; to make the Throne, at
a time when the fabric of old Japan was crumbling to pieces, the centre
round which the nation could rally. The aim of the Rescript was the
same, allowing for the change in circumstances, namely, to strengthen
the framework of government by encouraging a fresh spirit of patriotism
and loyalty. That education should be chosen as the medium for
impressing upon the nation the spirit of precepts appealing with the
force of tradition to national sentiment was very natural.
For the teaching of morals in elementary schools text-books are
provided. These contain a series of illustrated homilies designed to
inculcate the virtues to which prominence is given in Confucian ethics.
The children are also taught in conversations with the teachers matters
concerning the Emperor and the Court. They are brought to realize the
extent of the Imperial solicitude for the people; these lessons leading
up to the inevitable conclusion that the illustrious virtues of the
Sovereign must be reverenced. Similar lessons are given on the subject
of the national flag, with the object of promoting patriotism. In this
respect the Japanese are fortunate in possessing a word of Chinese
origin, which means literally “requiting the country for favours
received,” and thus conveys the sense of duty on which the virtue rests.
In their third school year the children learn about the Empress, and
acquire some general knowledge of her position and responsibilities. And
so they pass on to learn in succeeding courses, and always in the same
sequence of moral ideas, what is meant by “the fundamental character of
the Japanese Empire”—the relation, that is to say, of the Imperial House
to the people—and something of the nature of government and civic
duties.
It is not till the middle schools are reached that the influence of
Western thought is noticeable in any marked degree. There the curriculum
embraces morals, the Japanese language and Chinese literature, foreign
languages, history, geography and mathematics. Moral instruction is
continued on the lines on which it was begun in the elementary schools.
It is not the fault of the teacher, nor of the system, if at the end of
this stage of his education the pupil has not acquired a general
perception of what is required of him in the way of his duty to
ancestor, parent and neighbour, of his obligations to himself, to the
family, to society and to the State, and if he is not also imbued with a
deep sense of the fortunate privilege of Japanese nationality. It will
be at once apparent how wide a field is covered by the subject of
morals, and how practical is the end it is designed to subserve. The
teaching of foreign languages in middle schools amounts practically to
the teaching of English, this being in most of such schools the only
foreign language taught. If, in spite of the prominence given to it,
progress in the study of English is disappointing, the result is due to
the false economy which substitutes for competent foreign teachers
Japanese, whose knowledge and pronunciation are often defective.
The curriculum of the higher schools, the preparatory stage for the
University, varies according to the three sections—Law and Literature,
Science, and Medicine—into which they are divided. Four subjects,
however, are common to all three. These are Morals, the Japanese
language, Foreign Languages, and Gymnastics. Two of three foreign
languages—English, French, and German—are taught in each section. In the
Medical section German, and in the Science section English, is
compulsory.
The course of University instruction does not call for any special
notice. It is sufficient to say that it is modelled on Western lines.
Of late years the Government has given special attention to the
establishment of Technical and Normal Schools. The fact that the pupils
in these latter schools receive disciplinary training similar to that of
military schools shows the anxiety of the authorities to foster a
military spirit in the nation.
It will be seen that at every stage in the present system of education
the Japanese language is one of the subjects of study. This is due not
less to its complicated character than to the high degree of skill
required in its writing, for which brushes and not pens are employed. In
alluding to this point in a previous chapter attention was drawn to the
difficulty created by the adoption of the Chinese written language by a
people who had a spoken language of their own, and to the confusion that
afterwards supervened when the borrowing nation devised written scripts
for itself. The final result of this process of linguistic growth was
the division of Japanese writing into three main branches—the Chinese
style, in which Chinese hieroglyphs are used much as the Chinese use
them; the native scripts, or syllabaries; and a third which is a mixture
of the other two, and in varying forms is the one most in use to-day. Of
the two elements that thus form the Japanese language of the present
time—Chinese characters and the Japanese syllabaries—the former has so
far proved itself the stronger and, in a sense, the more useful:
stronger because of its having been the means by which Chinese
civilization was introduced, and of its connection with the foundation
upon which education has always rested; more useful because its effect
on national culture has not only survived the reopening of Japan to
foreign intercourse, but, owing to the fact that the native scripts are
adapted for the writing only of native words, has increased twenty-fold.
Just as we go to Latin and Greek to coin new words when we want them, so
to Chinese the Japanese have always gone on the same quest; and for the
better part of a century they have been busily engaged in coining new
words for all the new things that have come to them in the train of
Western learning. Thus the language which served to introduce Chinese
institutions and culture many centuries ago is performing the same duty
to-day for institutions and culture of quite another order. In this
Japan seems to have been the sport of fate. She started with Chinese as
the chief factor in her culture. The exigencies of language and
circumstance drove her in later years, when her civilization was tending
in an opposite direction, to draw again under altered conditions on the
same resources as before, and thus expose herself afresh to the
operation of the very influences from which in the first flush of her
ardour for Western reforms she was striving to emancipate herself.
How greatly education is hampered by the difficulty of the language will
be understood when it is mentioned that a Japanese youth who goes
through the whole educational course provided by the State is still
studying it when on the threshold of the University; and that if he
desires to attain any real literary scholarship he must continue this
study for some time after his education is completed. To show that the
difficulty has not been exaggerated it may be well to quote two
independent authorities, both Japanese. Baron Kikuchi tells us that “to
those who are engaged in education, especially elementary education, the
difficulty that a child has to encounter in learning Chinese characters
is an ever-present and pressing question; with so many subjects to be
learnt it is impossible to spend the enormous time that would be
necessary in the mere learning of ideographs.”... “When we come to
secondary education,” he adds, “the difficulty is increased still
further.” Marquis Ōkuma, who has held the same portfolio, and speaks
with the authority of a leading educationalist, is still more emphatic.
“The greatest difficulty of all connected with education is,” he says,
“the extreme complexity of the Japanese language. Japanese students
to-day are attempting what is possible only to the strongest and
cleverest of them, that is to say, two or three in every hundred. They
are trying to learn their own language, which is in reality two
languages ... while attempting to learn English and German, and, in
addition, studying technical subjects like law, medicine, engineering or
science.”
It is a mistake to suppose that because foreign influences enter so
largely into the educational course Japan must necessarily end by
becoming Europeanized. The foundation of her culture is too deeply laid
for that. So long as elementary education remains, as it is now,
practically untouched by Western influences, no great change of the kind
in question is likely to happen. All that educational reform, as
illustrated in the present system, implies is the making of education
one of the chief concerns of the State and the diffusion of Western
knowledge. The first has affected the whole nation; the latter chiefly
the upper classes.
CHAPTER XXXI
The Makers of Modern Japan—How Japan is Governed.
In preceding pages some account has been given of the steps by which a
Far Eastern nation has risen to its present position of a Great Power.
The period occupied by this transformation is less than half a century.
For during the first two decades that followed the reopening of Japan to
foreign intercourse reactionary influences supported by anti-foreign
feeling were, as we have seen, in the ascendant; and it was not till
after the Restoration that the work of remoulding all branches of
administration commenced. While giving full credit to the Japanese
people for the possession of the qualities that made this great change
possible, the genius of the statesmen by whom they were guided should
not be overlooked.
Although the new direction given to national policy, the consummation of
which is seen to-day, did not take place until after the Restoration,
the services rendered by some of the statesmen whose names are
associated with it date from before that time. The Restoration was not
the work of a day, the effect of a sudden impulse. Weak as the Shōgun’s
Government was, it was too firmly rooted by the mere length of its
duration, by the weight of time and usage, to be easily overthrown.
Before this could be done something in the nature of a united movement,
a combination of forces, was essential. And in the feudal conditions
then prevailing it was just this point which presented the greatest
difficulty. The military strength, as after events showed, was there,
but clan jealousies stood in the way of united effort. The first attempt
at rebellion made by the Chōshiū clan failed, it will be remembered, for
this reason, the Satsuma clan siding with the Yedo Government. Only when
these two clans were persuaded to work together, and were joined by two
others, as well as by disaffected members of the military class who
flocked to the Imperialist standard from all parts of the country, did
it become possible to organize insurrection on a scale that endangered
the continuance of Tokugawa rule. It was in the formation of this
alliance that the men who subsequently filled the chief offices under
the new Government first came into prominence. They form, as it were, a
group by themselves as the pioneers of the Imperialist movement. It was
another and later set of men who took up the work thus begun, and
accomplished the task of modernizing Japan.
What Japanese writers tell us of the relations subsisting between the
Court at Kiōto and the Yedo administration brings out very clearly the
fact that the _Kugé_ or Court nobles, who had in former days governed
the country, never ceased to regard the Shōguns as usurpers, the Capital
serving as the focus of constant intrigues directed against the
Government of the day. It was only natural, therefore, that the
Imperialist movement should find strong support at Kiōto, and that the
men who undertook the delicate and dangerous project of uniting the
southern clans in organized resistance to the Shōgunate should be in a
position to vouch for the secret approval of the Throne, whose formal
sanction recorded in State edicts remained to the last days of Tokugawa
rule one of the few shreds of prestige still left to the Sovereign.
Though the _Kugé_, as a body, having long been excluded from active
participation in public affairs, were at the time in question little
better than nonentities, in view of the fact that the movement in
contemplation had for its avowed object the restoration of direct
Imperial rule, it seems to have been regarded as essential to establish
a close connection with the Court. This explains the inclusion of two
Court nobles, Sanjō and Iwakura, each of whom afterwards received the
title of Prince. The former, it is said, owed his selection mainly to
the accident of birth. As representative of one of the oldest _Kugé_
families, his name alone gave weight to the Imperialist cause. Of him we
hear little subsequently, as the political situation developed, apart
from his filling the post of Prime Minister. Iwakura stood on a
different footing. His commanding abilities and natural talent for
affairs made his services indispensable, and for several years he was a
dominant figure in the Ministry. Two of the most notable clansmen who
were associated with Iwakura in this early period were Ōkubo (father of
the present Marquis), a native of Satsuma, whose death by the hands of
assassins in 1878 has already been mentioned, and Kido (father of the
present Marquis), a native of Chōshiū, who died of illness not long
after the new Government had been established. Both combined great
capacity with very liberal views, the adoption of Western ideas in the
reconstruction of the administrative system being largely due to their
initiative. Of the elder Saigō, at first the most influential member of
this group, the reader has already heard in connection with the Satsuma
rebellion. All three, it will be seen, belonged either to the Satsuma or
to the Chōshiū clan. The Ministerial dissensions which caused the
withdrawal from the Government of leading men of the two other clans
which had taken part in the Restoration led, as has already been
explained, to the disappearance from the scene of the Tosa and Hizen
clans at an early stage of the new _régime_, and to the direction of
affairs being assumed and continued till to-day by Satsuma and Chōshiū
statesmen. The list, however, of those who came into notice during this
critical period would be incomplete without the addition of the names of
Itagaki and Gotō of Tosa, and Soyéshima and Ōki of Hizen.
The most conspicuous of the statesmen who have been mentioned as
composing the second and later set—a description not quite accurate,
since the careers of some overlapped those of their predecessors—are
Princes Yamagata, Itō, Ōyama and Katsura, and Marquises Inouyé,
Matsugata, Ōkuma and Saionji. Their names have long been familiar to the
public abroad, for all at one time or another have been recognized as
entitled to the popular appellation of _Genrō_, or Elders, a term never
applied to the earlier statesmen. To the part played by each in the rise
of Japan attention has already been drawn in the course of this
narrative. With the exception of the two last-named, all of these
so-called _Genrō_ were Satsuma or Chōshiū clansmen.
In an undertaking so vast as the recasting of a nation’s institutions on
lines quite new, and in their nature so opposed to traditional usages,
many minds of necessity co-operated. The selection for the present
purpose only of the few whose names will always be household words in
Japan implies no lack of recognition of what was done by many others,
less conspicuous in their time, who rendered signal service to the
country. In estimating the difficulties encountered by the statesmen who
undertook the task of introducing Western reforms, and successfully
maintained and carried through the Liberal policy adopted after the
Restoration, regard should be paid to the dangerous conditions amidst
which much of this work was done. The opposition they met with came, as
we have seen, from two quarters—reactionaries, who for a time were very
hostile to foreigners, and those who were more advanced in their views
than Ministers themselves. The old ideas associated with vendettas,
which, so long as feudalism lasted, could be prosecuted under official
sanction, had produced an atmosphere of insecurity to life that survived
well into the Meiji era. The frequency of political assassinations, and
the precautions taken even in recent times to protect members of the
Government from attack, show how real were the risks to which prominent
statesmen were exposed.
The influence in public affairs of the _Genrō_, and of the earlier
leaders of the Restoration movement who never received that appellation,
has never been questioned. The columns of the Japanese Press have
constantly borne witness to the position they have held in public
estimation. They seem to have assumed from the first the functions
formerly exercised by the Council of State in Tokugawa times, with this
difference, that, as a body, no official recognition was ever accorded
to them. The Japanese family system gave opportunities to the _Genrō_ of
strengthening their position by the tie of adoption as well as by that
of marriage; and in availing themselves of these they followed the
example of the feudal nobility and courtiers of earlier days. Several
were thus connected with each other by one, or both, of these ties, the
support thus obtained being independent of that which came from their
purely political followers. When in the course of administrative
reconstruction the Ministry was reorganized on European models, the
exact position they occupied was not inaccurately represented in popular
parlance by the expression _Kuromaku-daijin_, which, freely rendered,
means “unseen Ministers of State.” The anomalous and singular situation
thus created will be understood when it is explained that the Ministry
of the day might, according to circumstances, be composed entirely of
_Genrō_, though latterly this became unusual, or might include several
_Genrō_, or even none. In the last-mentioned case the Ministry without
_Genrō_ had very little to do with decisions on important questions. Of
recent years the number of surviving _Genrō_ has gradually decreased.
Other causes, too, than that of death—namely, increasing age, the lesser
prestige of later statesmen and the constitutional changes which
resulted in the creation of two consultative bodies, the Privy Council
and Court Councillors—have tended to diminish the influence of the
_Genrō_ who still remain. The institution of these two consultative
bodies has had an important bearing on the direction of affairs. The
idea prevailing at one time in political circles that the ranks of the
_Genrō_ would be reinforced from time to time, as occasion served, by
the introduction of younger and rising statesmen, as actually took place
in one or two instances, does not appear to have met with general
approval. The present tendency seems rather to lie in the direction of
enlarging the circle of influential statesmen so as to include those
members of the Privy Council and House of Peers as well as Court
Councillors, whose age (to which much respect is still paid),
experience, and clan connections mark them out for selection. This
tendency, if continued, will have the effect of perpetuating a state of
things under which the Cabinet will, as hitherto, be kept in a position
of subordination to higher though veiled authority; for the Constitution
works without excessive friction, and neither the Lower House nor the
political parties it represents have much real power.
There are in the modern development of Japan a few salient points which
invite attention. The opening episode itself is one of these. Beyond the
fact that the Government which was overthrown had outlasted its time,
the Restoration bears no close resemblance to other revolutions. The
impulse that produced it did not come from the body of the people. It
was in no sense a popular uprising—due to class grievances, and aimed
against oppression which had become unbearable. The discontent that
existed was of a kind that is found everywhere when the machinery of
administration shows signs of breaking down. Nor was it altogether a
movement from above of the nature of those which elsewhere have put an
end to feudalism by a concentration of authority in the hands of a
monarch. In its inception it was simply a movement directed against the
Shōgun’s Government by a section of the military class belonging to the
Southern (or, as the Japanese would say, Western) clans. The cry of
“Honour the Sovereign” derived much of its efficacy from the appeal to
drive out foreigners which accompanied it. The abolition of feudalism
was mainly an afterthought.
Other outstanding features, taken in the order of events, are the
Satsuma rebellion (in which the progressive element in the clan
supported the Government); the establishment of parliamentary
government; treaty revision, in which Great Britain took the lead; the
war with China and that with Russia; the annexation of Korea; and, more
recently, the Great War.
Had the Satsuma insurgents triumphed when they rose in rebellion, the
new direction given to Japanese policy would have been arrested, with
results very different from anything we see to-day. With the
establishment of parliamentary government, which came into force
together with the Constitution, Japan broke finally with her past
traditions and came into line with Western countries. The conclusion of
the new Treaty between Great Britain and Japan, which was followed by
the conclusion of similar treaties with other foreign Powers, put a stop
to the mischievous agitation concerning Treaty revision which had long
troubled the Government. The war with China, which increased Japanese
territory and material resources, revealed a military strength
unsuspected abroad, and gave Japan a new and commanding position in the
Far East. Of still greater importance were the results of the
Russo-Japanese war. It changed the whole face of Far Eastern affairs,
and won for Japan admission to the ranks of Great Powers. By the
annexation of Korea Japan added to her military security, and removed
what in past years had been a constant source of disturbance in Far
Eastern affairs. How the financial position of Japan has been affected
by the Great War, and the expansion of territory she has acquired, we
have seen. As to what further consequences for her may result from the
defeat of Germany, the collapse of Russia and the newly awakened
interest of the United States in foreign questions, all that can safely
be said is that indulgence in speculations on this point will find
little assistance from analogies looked for in the past.
To the question, How much in Japan has been changed? an answer is
difficult. Outwardly, of course, the effects of the wholesale adoption
of much of the material civilization of the West are very plain. Whether
these effects extend much deeper is another matter. Japan, it must be
borne in mind, is in a state of transition. The new ideas imported from
abroad exist side by side with the old, so that the former balance of
things has disappeared. Two instances taken from the highest and lowest
circles will serve to illustrate the conflict still going on between the
old and new cultures. The Gregorian Calendar adopted in 1873 for
official purposes counts for little in agricultural operations, and in
the pilgrimages and religious festivals which play so important a part
in Japanese life. These are still conducted according to the old
calendar. This is not surprising, for the interior of Japan has only
been open to foreign residence and trade since 1899, the date when the
revised treaties came into operation. Since then, moreover, foreign
trade has continued to move in the grooves first created, the so-called
Treaty ports, the rest of the country having been affected but little by
foreign intercourse. A similar contrast is noticeable in ceremonial
procedure. On certain State occasions the Sovereign performs the
functions of a European monarch in accordance with the formalities of
European Courts. On others, acting as high priest in the shrine attached
to the palace, he conducts a Shintō service according to a ritual so
ancient as to be almost unintelligible, and quite out of keeping with
the modern ideas which the nation has adopted. It would be in no way
surprising to those who have studied Japanese progress in the last fifty
years of foreign intercourse if in the not distant future the present
Civil Code, based on that of Saxony, were to be revised with the object
of bringing it more into harmony with Japanese tradition and sentiment.
INDEX
Abdication, 22, 287
Adams, Sir F., _History of Japan_, 80, 92
Administration, Tokugawa (_see_ Tokugawa Shōgunate)
Administrative changes, 74;
system, reorganization of, 174
Adoption, 22, 285;
complications caused by, 39
Adviser to Shōgunate, position held by Head of Mito family, 34
Agreement, secret, between China and Japan for Common Defence, 281
Agreements (pre-Restoration Treaties) concluded by Japan with Foreign
Powers, 46, 47, 48, 49
Agricultural class, the, 97
Aidzu clansmen as fighters, 131
Aidzu, daimiō of, 77
Ainu aborigines, 19, 20
Aki, daimiō of, 33
Alcock, Sir Rutherford, 54, 57
Alexeieff, Admiral, 246, 253, 256
Alliance of four clans, 71, 72, 80
Altars, family, 151, 286
America and Japan, early relations, 45;
first treaty, 46;
other treaties, 54, 205, 207, 240;
foreign aggression in China and Declarations protest of U.S.
Government, 237;
friendly relations, 265;
friction, causes of, 266
American annexation of Philippines, 235;
interests in China, 237;
missionary enterprise, 149;
policy in regard to Restoration, 65;
Treaty of 1858, difficulties of negotiation, 51;
whalers in Sea of Okhotsk, 44
Ancestor-worship, 140, 151
Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Alliance, 247
Anti-Foreign feeling, 53, 54, 55, 75, 194
Anti-Japanese feeling in America and Canada, 267
Anti-Shōgunate movement, 50
_Arbeiter Zeitung_, the, 275
Arisugawa, Prince, 74
Armistice concluded with China, 221
Army of the Shōgunate, 82
Art and literature, 18, 26, 112, 113
Asan, conflict at, 217
Ashikaga Shōguns, 26
Assassinations, political, 302
Assimilation of foreign ideas, 115
“Association of men with a definite purpose” (_Risshi-sha_), 136
“Association of Patriots” (_Aikoku-tō_), 136
Aston, Mr., 143
Attack on Shimonoséki forts by four Powers, 58
Awa, daimiō of, 35
_Awakening of Japan, The_, 73
Ballot, secret, 185
Bank of Japan, 177
Banks and banking, 177
Bavarian Constitution adopted as model, 188
“Benevolent” government, 115
Bezobrazov, 256
Biddle, Commodore, at Yedo, 45
Bimetallic standard, a, 176
Bismarck, 172
Biwa, L., 32, 50
Blagovestchensk, reprisals at, 243
Brinkley, Capt., 124
British Legation, attacks on the, 55
Boissonade, M., 158
Bolsheviks, the, 281
Boxer Rising, the, 241–243
Buckle’s _History of Civilization_, 195
Buddhism, 17, 139, 141, 145, 147, 292
Budget, the, 190, 198
_Buké_ or military class, 20
Bureaucratic system of pre-feudal days, 73
Burma Convention, the, 226
_Bushidō_, 149
_Butsudan_ or Buddhist altar, 286
Calendar, changes in the, 71
Campbell, Mr., 241
Canada, anti-Japanese feeling in, 267
Capital, transference of, from Kiōto to Yedo, 79
_Capital of the Tycoon, the_, 54
“Cash,” 176
Cassini, M., 229
Cenotaphs, ancestral, 286
Centralized bureaucracy, 33, 35
_Cha-no-yu_, 150
Chamberlain, Professor, 143
Chamberlain, Mr. J., 248
“Charter Oath,” the, 75, 192
Chemulpo, 216, 257;
naval engagement off, 258
Chéradame, M., 228, 252
_Chihanji_, 89
Chikuzen province, 25;
daimiō of, 72
China, relations with, 211;
war with, 217;
Japan’s aggressive intentions in, 280;
Handbook, 241
Chinda, Viscount, 210
Chinese culture, influence of, 17, 18, 298;
Eastern Railway, 229, 231;
influence on Japanese Buddhism, 143;
influx of, in California, 266;
Navy, the, 220;
suzerainty over neighbouring states, 214;
sexagenary cycle, 69, 70;
written language, the, 112, 113
Chōshiū clan, the, 71, 72
Chōshiū clansmen expelled from Kiōtō, 59
Chōshiū, daimiō of, 33, 35, 50;
ex-daimiō of, 186
Chōshiū, disorders in, 129;
and Higo, risings in, 127;
forts, action by, 57;
leaders, ideals of the, 73;
mission of conciliation to, 82;
raids and attacks, 72;
rebellion, 59
_Chōteki_, or rebels, 77
Christian persecutions, 28, 30;
after-effect of, 55;
political character of, 120;
renewal of, 91
Christianity, edicts against, 28, 30;
withdrawal of, 91;
first introduction of, 27;
future of, in Japan, 149;
later encouragement of, as a means of learning English, 148;
official recognition of, 147
Chronology, Japanese, 69
Ch’un, Prince, 242
Civil Code, the, 283
Civil Service examinations, 175
Civil war and fall of Shōgunate, 63
Clan guilds, 94
Clan jealousies, 81, 129
Clans, independent spirit of, 72
Class distinctions, feudal, 195
Classes, effects of abolition of feudalism on, 94;
fusion of, 195;
rearrangement of, 90
Coalition Cabinet of Liberals, resignation of, 200
Coast defence before Restoration, 44
Code of Criminal Procedure, 158
Coinage, 176
Colonization of Yezo, failure of, 118
Commercial Convention with China, 222
Compulsory education, 293
Conferences of Prefects, annual, 157
Conferences on Treaty Revision at Tōkiō, 178
Confiscation of territories of Tokugawa adherents, 77
Confucianism, 144, 149, 151
Congratulatory missions, 25
Conscript army, efficiency of the new, 132
Conscription, establishment of, 218
Conservative Party, formation of, 197
Constitution, Prince Itō’s commentaries on, 182, 188;
framing of, 172;
the granting of a, 162;
promulgation of, 186
Constitutional Imperialist Party, 166;
Liberals, 197;
Reform Party, 165
Consuls, or “administrators” in China, 212
Copyright, Protection of, 207
_Corvée_, the, 170, 185
Council of State, upper and lower, 35, 74
Court, isolation of, 37
Court Councillors, 175
Court and feudal nobility, relations between, 37;
amalgamation of, 89
Court nobles, ideals of, 73
Court and Shōgunate, 33, 56, 59
“Credit notes,” 176
_Creed of Half Japan, The_, 141
Currency, confusion in the state of, 81, 176
Customs Import Tariff, 207
Czecho-Slovak troops in Asia, the, 281
_Daidō_ Club, the, 197
_Daijingū_ of Isé, the, 286
Daijō Daijin, the, 80
_Daikwan_, or Governors, 36
_Dajōkwan_ or Central Executive, 79
Dan-no-Ura, sea fight of, 20
Dazaifu, 25
de Witte, Count, 255, 256
Débidour’s _Histoire Diplomatique de l’Europe_, 229
Declarations regarding the non-alienation of Chinese territory, 234
Deliberative Assemblies, 75
Democratic feeling, growth of, 196
Departments of new post-Restoration administration, 73
Déshima, the Dutch in, 31, 121
Development of Japan, outstanding features in, 304
Diet and Government, conflicts between, 199;
composition of, 189;
first session of, 198;
first dissolution of, 198
Discord between political parties, 169
Districts, rural and urban, 184
Divorce, 290
Douglas, Admiral Sir A., naval adviser, 219
Drouyn de Lhuys, M., 108
Dual system of government, 21, 38;
end of, 63, 64, 85
Duarchy, consolidation of, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37;
working of, 38, 39, 40
Duplication of offices, 36, 37
Dummy editors, the Press Law and, 155
Dutch traders, 30, 31;
treaties with the, 46, 47, 240;
language as a medium of communication, 111;
and “Western Learning,” 84
Duties, import and export, foreign Powers’ demand for modification of,
60
East India Company, 30
Échizen, daimiō of, 33, 50, 53;
ex-Prince, 56
Eckhardstein, von, _Reminiscences_, 249
Education, 292;
Department of, 293
Educational Code, 293;
influences, 154, 160
Eisai Zenshi, founder of Zen sect of Buddhists, 142
Election, system of, for local assemblies, etc., 184;
for Diet, 189
Elections, first, for Diet, 194
Electoral Law, revised, 190
Electors, qualifications of, for local assemblies, 185;
for Diet, 189
Elementary Schools, 293
Elgin and Kincardine, Lord, 37
Elliot Islands, Japanese naval base at, in war with Russia, 261
Emigration, Japanese, 269
Emperor and Court, teaching in schools concerning, 296
Emperor’s name, removal of interdict regarding use of, 117
Empress Dowager of China, 243
English language replaces Dutch as medium of communication, 112;
teaching of, in schools, 175, 297
English traders, 30
“Equal opportunity,” principle of, 276;
“open door” and, 238
“Era of Enlightened Government,” the, 69
Era of Great Peace, 42
_Éta_ and _Hinin_, or social outcasts, 90
Europe, early intercourse with, 27;
renewal of, 45
Ex-_samurai_ (_Shizoku_), 95, 96;
discontent of, 123;
restlessness of, 152, 160, 170
Ex-regent or _Kwambaku_, 18
Expansion, Japanese, 268
Extra-territoriality, 109, 204, 207
Fall of Shōgunate, 63, 64
“Family,” the, in Japanese law, 283
Family councils, 289;
registration, 290;
rites, 286
Family System, Japanese, 283
Fanaticism, 75, 135, 165, 193, 194
Farmers, 97
Fernandez, 27
“Festival of the Dead,” 287
Feudal fiefs, surrender of, 87
Feudal nobles, three classes of, 33, 34;
early training, 92;
subjection of, under Shōgunate rule, 34
Feudal System, abolition of, 89;
classification of society, 20;
compared with Scottish, 43;
establishment of, 20;
hereditary retainers, 22;
provincial administration, 30;
tenure of land, 97;
territories and nobility under Iyéyasu, 33
Fief, a daimiō’s, 43
Fiefs under Shōgunate rule, 33
_Fifty Years of New Japan_, 137, 140, 148, 175, 177
Figure-head system of government, 22, 88
Financial reform, 175, 239
Flower fairs, 151
Foreign experts, engagement of, 123
Foreign intercourse, reopening of, 44;
opposition to, 51
Foreign judges, the question of, 206;
Powers, attitude of, 65, 114;
regrouping of, 247
Foreign troops in Yokohama, 58
Formosa, acquisition of, 222;
difficulty with China respecting, 125;
resources of, 118, 119
France and Russia, close accord between, 228
French legal models adopted for Criminal law, 158
_Fudai_ daimiōs, 34, 35, 94
Fujiwara family, the, 18, 19, 20
Fukien, non-alienation of, 238
Fukuchi, editor of _Nichi Nichi Shimbun_, 166
Fukuzawa Yūkichi, 154, 155, 295
General Agreement Union, 179
“Gentlemen’s Agreement,” the, 267
_Genrō_, or Elders, 302, 303
_Genrō-in_, or Senate, creation of, 133;
Tosa clansmen’s dissatisfaction with constitution of, 137
Gérard, M., _Ma Mission en Chine_, 228, 229, 230, 233
German Emperor, mischievous activity of, 224
German influence in Pacific, elimination of, 277
German Minister in China, murder of, by Boxers, 242
German models adopted in constitutional and administrative matters,
172, 174
Germany and the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, 249
Germany and Japan, progress of, compared, 274
Girls, education of, 294
_Gokénin_, or landed gentry, 34, 78, 93
Gold standard, adoption of, 239
_Gosanké_, the, 34, 35
Gotō Shōjirō, Count, 74, 121, 164, 169, 174, 194, 302
Governors and governed, Japanese idea of relationship between, 115
Grant, General, 126
Great Britain, first treaty with, 46;
Treaty of 1858, 47;
revised Treaty with, 207, 208, 209, 210
Great Reform, the, 18, 69, 142
Great War, Japan’s part in the, 276
Gregorian Calendar, adoption of, 71, 117, 305
Guizot’s _History of the Civilization of Europe_, 42
_Gunchō_, or district administrators, 185
Haga, Prof., 175
Hague Tribunal, the, 208
Haicheng, 221
Hakodaté, opening of, 46
_Hambatsu Séifu_, or clan government, 43
_Han_, or clan, 43
Harris, Mr. Townsend, 47, 111
_Hatamoto_, or Bannermen, 34, 35, 78, 93
Hawaii, Japanese labour in, 270
Hayashi, Count, 247, 249
Headmen of household groups, 36
Headship of family, 287
_Heimin_, or common people, 90
Hereditary retainers, 22
Hidéyori, 32
Hidéyoshi, 26, 28; ambition of, 29
High Court of Justice (_Daishinin_), 133
Higher Schools, curriculum of, 297
Higo, province of, 131
Hikoné, 50
Hill, S. J., _Impressions of the Kaiser_, 275
_Hiō-jō-sho_, 35
Hiogo, port of, 54, 107
Hirado Islands, 30
_History of Japan (1542–61), A_, 28, 124
_History of the Currency, A_, 175, 176
“History of the Restoration,” 72
Hitachi (Mito), province of, 33, 34
Hitotsubashi family, the, 51
Hizen, province of, 25;
daimiō of, 33, 35;
clan, 71;
insurrection, 125
_Hōben, Hō-an Jōrei_, 180, 181;
(or pious fraud), 143
Hohenzollern, Prince Henry of, 230
Hōjō Regents, the, 24, 25, 142
_Hokkaidō_ (_Yezo_), the, or Northern Sea Circuit, 104, 118, 159
Honda, Rev. Y., 148
Hongkong, 232
Hornbeck, Mr., _Contemporary Politics of the Far East_, 236
Hostility to foreigners, 53, 54, 55, 75, 107, 179, 194
House of Peers, 173
House of Representatives, 189
Hozumi, Professor, 288
“Hundred Articles, The,” 33, 37, 93
I-Ho-Ch’uan (Patriot Harmony Fists), 241
Ïi Kamon no Kami (_Tairō_ or Regent), 50, 52, 53, 55, 63
Iki Islands, 25
Immigration Act, American, 266
Imperial “progresses,” 37;
domains, 67;
Household, Minister of, 173;
House Law, 190;
Oaths, 135, 187;
“Ordinances,” 188;
prerogatives, 188
Impersonality, atmosphere of, pervading everything Japanese, 21
Indemnities, 58, 222, 225
Independents in Diet, 194
Ingles, Admiral, naval adviser, 219
_Inkio_, 288
Inouyé, Marquis, 74, 99, 126, 174, 179, 249, 251, 302
Instruction in Elementary Schools, 295
Insurrectionary movements, 124, 127, 130, 171
Interests of Treaty Powers, 65
Invasions by Mongols, 25
“Invention of a New Religion, The,” 150
Isé, Great Shrine at, 54, 151
Ishii, Viscount, 280
“_Ishin Shi_” (“History of the Restoration”), 72
Itagaki, 79, 121, 136, 137, 164, 169, 174, 194, 200, 302
Itō, Prince, 74, 163, 172, 174, 201, 224, 249, 251, 302
Itō Shimpei, 121, 124
Iwakura, Prince, 74, 79, 80, 87, 90, 122, 301
Iwakura Mission, objects of the, 122, 178, 205
Iyémitsu, Shōgun, repressive edicts of, 30
Iyémochi, Shōgun, 56
Iyésada, 52
Iyéyasu, the rule of, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38
Japan, bridging the gulf between old and new, 186;
contrast between old and new, 305, 306
_Japan: The Rise of a Modern Power_, 230
_Japan Year Book_, the, 140
Japanese Cabinets, independent of Diet, 200
Japanese language an obstacle to progress, 112
Japanese, origin of the, 17
Japanese subjects, rights and duties of, 189
Japanese writing, three branches of, 298
Jesuit missionaries, 28, 29
_Jiji Shimpō_, the, 155
Jimmu Tennō, the mythical founder of Japan, 69
_Jingikwan_, 146
_Jisha-bugiō_, 35, 145
_Jiyūtō_, or Liberal Party, 164;
dissolution of, 167;
revival of, 194
_Jōdai_, or Governor (of Ōsaka), 37
_Jōdo_ sect, the, 142
Kaga, daimiō of, 33
Kagoshima, 27;
bombardment of, 57;
Shimadzu’s retirement to, 130;
Saigō’s death in, 132
Kaiping, 221
_Kaishintō_, or Progressives, 197
Kamakura, 21, 26
Kamakura Shōguns, the, 24
_Kami_, or natural deities, 40, 140
_Kamidana_, or Shintō altar, 286
Kanagawa, Perry at, 46
Kanda, Baron, 99
Kataoka Kenkichi, 155
Kato, Viscount, 211, 248
Katsura, General, 221, 251, 302
Kawamura, Admiral, 129
Kéiki, 51, 56, 60, 62, 88, 186
_Ketsudan-sho_, or Court of Decisions, 35
Kiaochow, 228;
leased to Germany, 230;
evacuated by Germany, 277
Kido, 74, 79, 80, 82, 87, 88, 137, 301
Kii (or Kishiū), prov. of, 33;
princely House of, 34;
Prince of, 51, 64, 88
Kikuchi, Baron, 293, 299
_Kiōbusho_, or Department of Religion, 147
Kiōto, 21;
and Yedo, 38;
intrigues at the Court of, 49;
Shōgun summoned to, 56;
raid on, 59, 62
Kishiū, prov. of (_see_ Kii)
Kiūshiū, prov. of, 25
Knox proposal regarding Manchurian railways, 280
_Kōgisho_, or Parliament, 77, 87
Kōmei, Emperor, death of, 62
Konishi, Christian daimiō, 29
Korea, 17;
and China, 126;
annexation of, by Japan, 271, 272;
Chinese conquest of, 24, 25;
Chinese suzerainty over, 25, 214;
condition of, 215;
difficulties with China concerning, 120;
invasion by Hidéyoshi, 29;
Japan’s interests in, 254;
Japanese protectorate over, 264;
missions of courtesy to Japan, 121;
rivalry between Russia and Japan concerning, 255;
written language of, 19
Kublai Khan, 24, 27
_Kugé_, or Court aristocracy, 20, 37, 49, 301
Kumamoto, siege of the castle of, 131
Kurile Islands, acquisition of, 126
Kuroda, General, 118, 126, 129, 174
Kuroki, General, 260
_Kuromaku-daijin_, or “Unseen Ministers of State,” 303
Kuropatkin, General, 260, 262
Kwang-chow, Bay of, leased to France, 231
Kwantō, 32
_Kwazoku_, name of new class, including all nobles, 89
Land, feudal tenure of, 97;
reform, 98;
official survey of, 100;
assessment of value, 103, 105;
ownership of, by foreigners, 208
Land-tax, revision of, 99, 104
Language difficulties in way of progress, 111;
in education, 298
Languages, written and spoken, Japanese, 112, 113
Lansdowne, Marquess of, 247
Lansing-Ishii Agreement, the, 281
Law of Cities, Towns and Villages (_Shi-chō-som-pō_), 184;
of the Court and Shōgunate, 37;
of the Imperial Court, 37;
of Libel, 168;
of Public Meetings, the, 156, 164
Laws accessory to the Constitution, 188
“_Le Monde et la Guerre Russo-Japonaise_” (Chéradame), 228, 252
Leases of Chinese Territory, 227, 230, 231, 232
Legal and Judicial Reform, 158, 193, 240
Legations at Peking, siege of, 241
Legislative Chamber or Senate (_Genrō-in_), 133
Lemieux, Mr., 268
Li Hung Chang, 218, 228
Liaotung Peninsula, the, 225
Liao-yang, 260;
battle of, 262
Liberal Party, programme of the, 164
Lloyd, Rev. Arthur, 141, 142
Lobanoff, Prince, 228, 255
Local government, old system of, 36;
revised system of, 156, 184
London Protocol of 1862, 107
Loochoo, annexation of, 126;
difficulties in connection with, 125, 213;
Local Government Act inoperative in, 184
Lord Keeper of the Seals (_Naidaijin_), 175
Lower and Upper Houses of Diet, the, 203
“Mahayana Vehicle,” the, 141
Makers of Modern Japan, the, 300
Makharoff, Admiral, 259
Manchuria, Russian intentions in, 246;
occupation of, 252;
American protest, 252
Marco Polo, 27
Marriage, 290
Matsudaira (Tokugawa family name), 35
Matsugata, Marquis, 129, 174;
financial measures introduced by, 177, 239, 302
Meckel, General, military adviser, 218
Meiji Era, the, 42, 69
Members of Parliament, qualifications of, 190
Memorials to the Throne, 87
_Métayage_ system, the, 97
_Métsuké_, 36
Middle schools, curriculum of, 297
Mikado (one of terms for Emperor of Japan), meaning of, 40
Mikado, attempt to abduct, 59;
first audience granted by, 220
Mikados, Shōguns mistaken for, 23
Militarist policy, 223
Military College in Satsuma, Saigō’s, 130
Military strength of Russia and Japan, comparison of, 258
Min Party, the, in Korea, 217
Minamoto family, the, 20
Minister President of the Cabinet, 174
Ministers of State, chief, 174
_Minké_, or general public, outside military class, 20
Missionaries, early, 27;
expulsion of, 28, 30
Missions to Europe and United States, and objects of, 107, 108, 109
Missions from Yedo to Kiōtō, 53
Mito, ex-Prince of, 50, 51, 53, 55, 64
Mito, disorders in, 129
Mito, Princely House of, 72
_Mitsu Bishi_, first s.s. company, the, 133
Moderation in politics, increasing tendency towards, 202
Moderation towards rebels, 77
Monarch, personality of, the, 196
Monetary system, confused state of, 175
Mongol invasions, 24, 25
Monopoly of foreign trade by Shōgunate, 62
Morals, instruction in, 295
Mōri, daimiō, 43;
murder of Viscount, 193
Morrison, Dr., 249
“Most-favoured-nation” treatment, 108
Mukden Agreement, the, 246, 253;
battle of, 263
Murder of Secretary of American Legation in Tōkiō, 55;
of German Minister and Chancellor of Japanese: Legation at Peking,
242
Murders of British subjects and indemnities, 55
Mutsu, daimiō of, 33, 247
Mutsuhito, Emperor, succession of, 62;
message to foreign representatives, 118
Nagasaki, Christianity at, 91
_Naidaijin_, 175
Nanshan, Russian defeat at, 261
Narusé, Mr., 295
National army, nucleus of, 82, 83
National banks, 176
National calendar, 71
National pride, 19
Naval reform, 219
Navy, conspicuous services of Japanese, during Great War, 282
Navy, state of, 82, 219
_Nengō_, or year-periods, 69, 70
New Government, form chosen for, 73;
first rupture in ministry, 122
Newchwang, occupation of, 221, 261
Newspaper editors and proprietors, responsibility of, 168
_Nichi Nichi Shimbun_, the, 166
Nichiren, Buddhist priest, 143
_Nichiren_ sect, the, 142
_Nihonbashi_, the, or Bridge of Japan, 182
Niigata, 107
Nitobé, Professor, 175
Nishi, Viscount, 255
_Niūdō_, 288
Nobunaga, 26–28, 145
Nodzu, General, 261
Nogi, General, 261
Normal schools, 297
Noto, province of, 166
Oaths taken by the Emperor, 135, 187
Ōishi, leader of Forty-seven _rōnin_, 149
Ōki, 302
Oku, General, 260
Ōkubo, 74, 79, 80, 87, 129, 157, 301
Ōkuma, 74, 79, 99, 118, 140, 159, 165, 167, 174, 180, 182, 191, 193,
200, 206, 239, 277, 299, 302
“Open door and equal opportunity,” principle of, 238, 245, 247, 252
“Open,” or “treaty,” “ports,” 48
Opposition, the, in first session of Diet, 194;
tactics of, 198
Origin of the Japanese, 17
Ōsaka Mint, the, 176
“Ōsaka summer campaign,” the, 32
Ōsaka combined squadron at, 61;
conference in, 137;
Governor of, 37;
postponed opening of, 107;
Shōgun’s withdrawal to, 63
Ouchtomsky, Prince, 229
Outstanding features in development of Japan, 304
Owari, Prince of, 50, 53, 64
Owari, province of, 33;
princely House of, 34, 72
Ōyama, Field-Marshal Prince, 218, 262, 302
Ozaki Yukiō, 165
Paper money, 81, 175, 176, 177
Parental authority, 284
Parkes, Sir Harry, 60, 77
Parliament, decree to establish a, 162
Party government, desire for, and failure of, attempt to establish, 200
Party manifestos, 197
Peace Conference in Paris, Japan at the, 282
Peace Preservation Regulations (_Hō-an Jōrei_), 180, 181
Peerage, creation of new, 173
Penal Code, 158
Pensions, Feudal, 93;
commutation of, 96, 127
“Permanent Register,” the, 290
Perry, Commodore, 45, 49, 61, 62, 72
Persecutions, early Christian, 28, 30;
after-effect of, 55;
political character of, 120;
recrudescence of, 91
Philippine Islands, the, 235
Piggott, Sir Francis, 193
Pilgrims and Pilgrimages, 151
Ping-yang, Chinese defeat at, 220;
occupation of, in Russian war, 260
Pioneer colonization, Japanese failure in, 119
Plehve, 256
Political agitation, 155, 156, 178, 180, 194
Political Associations and Clubs, formation of, 155, 164
Political parties, formation of, 164;
collapse of first, 167;
reconstruction of, 194
Political rowdyism, 180
_Political Development of Japan, The_, 153
Pope, pretensions of the, 55
Pope Alexander VI, 27
Population, increase of, 269
Port Arthur, capture of, in Chinese war, 221;
investment of, 261;
in Russian war and fall of, 262;
leased to Russia, 231
Portsmouth Treaty, the, 264
Portugal, 27
Portuguese adventurers, 27
Powers, Foreign, attitude of, 65, 119;
regrouping of, 247
Prefects, annual conference of, 133, 156, 184
Prefectural assemblies, 134, 184
Prefectures, creation of, 89
Press, the, 154
Press law, 153, 180
“Prison Editors,” 167
Privy Council, the (_Sū-mitsu-in_), 182, 183
Pro-foreign tendencies, 123, 124, 179
Progressive opinion, 77;
and tendencies, 175
Provincial administration, feudal, 20, 36;
revision of, 134, 184
Public meetings and addresses, novelty of, 164
Radical Party, beginnings of a, 137
Reactionaries and Reformers, aims of, 84, 135
Rebels, moderate treatment of, 77
Reclassification of land, 105
Reconstruction, work of, 134
Regent (Ïi Kamon no Kami), assassination of, 55
Regent, or _Sesshō_, 18
Regents, or _Shikken_, 24
Registration of land, 105
Registration, Law of, 283
Registration, status and residential, 291
Religion, Japanese attitude towards, 120, 140, 150
Religion, connection of, with reforms, 121, 139
Religions of Japan before Restoration, the four, 139
Religious festivals and pilgrimages, 305
Repression and reform, 158, 159
Residential and commercial rights of foreigners, limitations of, 48,
204
Restoration, the, accomplishment of, 64;
movement for, 49, 50, 55, 61, 62, 63;
the work of four clans, 71, 83;
unique character of, 304
Restriction of public meeting and speech, 167
Resumption of specie payments, 175
Reventlow’s _Deutschland’s Auswärtige Politik_, 227
Revenues, feudal, acquired by Government, 93
Revised treaties put into force, 240
“Revival of Pure Shintō,” the, 145
Rice notes, 176
Richardson, Mr., murder of, 55
_Rikken-Kaishintō_, or Constitutional Reform Party, 165
_Rikken Teisei-to_, or Constitutional Imperialist Party, 166
_Riōbu Shintō_, fusion of Shintō and Buddhism, 143;
processions, 38
Rise of Japan and Germany compared, 274
Risings of ex-_Samurai_, 170
Rites and Ceremonies, Bureau of, 147
Rival Emperors, 26
Rockhill’s _Treaties and Conventions_, 229
_Rōnin_, 50, 60, 81
Roosevelt, President, mediation by, 264;
and school question, 266
Rosen, Baron, 255
Russia, activity of, in Siberia, 44;
attitude of, 65, 114;
war with, 257
Russian aims in Far East, 227;
Baltic fleet, 263;
loan to China, 226;
revolution, effect of, in Far East, 280
Russo-Chinese Bank, the, 228
Sadaijin, 80
Saga, 124
“Sage of Mita, The,” 155
Saghalien, arrangement with Russia concerning, 126;
southern half ceded to Japan, 264
Saigō, the elder, 78, 79, 90, 121, 129, 132, 302
Saigō, the younger (General Marquis), 78, 125, 129, 174, 218
_Sa-in_, the, 80
Saionji, Marquis, 302
Salisbury, Lord, 207
_Samurai_, extinction of, as class, 89;
impoverished condition of, 95;
mischievous influence of disbanded, 152;
privileged position of, 195
Samurai, clanless (_see Rōnin_)
San Francisco Board of Education, 266
_San-kin Kō-tai_, or system of alternate residence of daimiōs in Yedo
and their fiefs, 34;
cessation of, 81
Sanjikwai or Local Executive Councils, 185
Sanjō, Prince, 74, 79, 80, 90, 301
Sasébo, naval arsenal, 259
Satow, Feodor, Mr., 193
Satsuma and Chōshiū clans, alliance of, 172;
Japan ruled by, 133;
naval and military control vested in, 200
Satsuma clan, co-operation against Chōshiū, 59;
discontent in, 78, 79;
divided feeling in, 78;
federalists, 73;
mission of conciliation to, 82;
rebellion, 78, 130
Satsuma, daimiō of, 33;
ex-daimiō, 186
Satsuma faience, 30
“Satchō Government,” the, 153
School Question of California, the, 266
Schools, pre-Restoration, Buddhist, Government and private, 292
Schools, normal, “special” and technical, 294
_Secret Memoirs_, the, of Count Hayashi, 247
“Security of the Throne, The,” 181
_Sei-in_, or Council of State, 79, 101
_Sei-i-Tai-Shōgun_, 20
Séki-ga-hara, battle of, 32
Senate (_Genrō-in_), 137
Sendai, daimiō of, 30, 33
Seoul, 215
Shaho, River, battle of the, 262
Shibusawa, Baron, 177
Shigéno, Professor, 288
Shimabara, insurrection of, 30
Shimada Saburō, 165
Shimadzu Saburō, 55, 78, 79, 80, 127, 129, 130, 186
Shimoda, Mrs., 295
Shimoda, opening of, 46
Shimonoséki, Straits of, closing of, 57;
destruction of forts at, 58;
French arrangement regarding, 108
Shimonoséki, Treaty of, 222
_Shimpei_, or “New Soldiers,” 82
_Shin Nippon_, the, 277
_Shin_ sect, the, 142, 287
_Shingon_ sect, the, 143
Shinran Shōnin, Buddhist priest, 142
Shintō, Department of, 73;
Court religion, 147;
form of nature-worship, 139, 140;
funerals, 146
_Shizoku_, or gentry, 90;
discontent of, 126
Shōgun, the, creation of, 20;
absence of personal rule of, 21, 22, 23
Shōgunate, Tokugawa, authority of, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38;
decline of, 50;
fall of, 63, 64
Shōguns, mentioned, Yoritomo, 24;
Iyémitsu, 30;
Iyéyasu, 32;
Hidétada, 38;
Iyésada, 51;
Iyémochi, 56;
Kéiki, 62
Shōguns and Mikados, 23
Shōguns and Court nobles, relations between, 301
Shōgun’s domains, the, extent of, 36;
revenue from, 84
_Short Exhortation to the People, A_, 296
_Shoshidai_, or Shōguns, Resident in Kiōtō, 37
Shōtoku Taishi, Prince, 142
Sian-fu, flight of Chinese Court to, 242
Siberia, intervention of Allies in, in Great War, 281
Society, before Restoration, classification of, 20
“Society of Political Friends” (_Seiyūkai_), 201
Sōga family, the, 18
_Sōshi_, or political rowdies, 160, 202
Sovereign, impersonality of Japanese, 21
Sovereign, terms used to designate Japanese, 40
Soyéshima, Count, 121, 302
Spanish missionaries, 28
Specie payments, resumption of, 175
“Spheres of interest,” 237
State services, feudal (_Kokuyéki_), 34
Statutes of the Chinese Eastern Railway, 229
Stirling, Admiral, 46
Stoessel, General, 262
Succession to the throne, 190
Suiko, Empress, 142
Sung school of Confucianism, 150
Supreme administration, department of, 73
Surplus population, outlet for, 120
Swords, the wearing of, in Satsuma, 128
Ta-lien-Wan leased to Russia, 231;
retreat of Chinese fleet to, 220, 228
_Taikun_ (_see_ Tycoon)
Tai-wön-kun, the, Regent of Korea, 215
_Taigiōsho_, or ex-Shōgun, 39
Taira family, the, 20
Tairō, the, or Regent, 50, 52, 55
_Taishō_, or era of “Great Righteousness,” 70
Taku Forts, storming of the, 242
Takushan, 261
Tanégashima, 27
T’ang dynasty, the, 18
Taoism, 144
Tariff, amendment of, 61
Tariff autonomy, 272
Taxation, land, revision of, 99, 101, 104;
made uniform, 105
Technical schools, 297
_Tendai_ and _Shingon_, sects of Buddhism, 142, 143
Terashima, Count, 74
Territorial jurisdiction, the question of, 207
_Things Japanese_, 143
“Three Great Laws,” the, 156, 184
Throne, the, 18, 19;
constitutional prerogatives of, 188;
exalted respect for, 182;
ineffective authority of, 181;
intervention of, 201;
restricted rights of, 38;
subservience of, under Iyéyasu and his successors, 37
Tientsin Convention, the, 216
Tientsin, taking of, in Boxer campaign, 242
Time, methods of reckoning, 69, 70, 71
Ting, Admiral, 221
Title, to land, how determined, 105
Title-deeds, 100, 101, 105
Titles, in feudal times, territorial and official, 40, 42;
modern, 173
Tōgō, Admiral, 217, 259
Tokimuné (Hōjō Regent), 24
Tōkiō, or “Eastern Capital,” new name for Yedo, 79;
centre for political parties, 168
Tōkiō University, 293
Tokugawa Iyéyasu, first Tokugawa Shōgun, 32
Tokugawa Shōgunate, the, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37;
decline of, 50, 60;
fall of, 63, 64
Tonkin Frontier, rectification of the, 226
Torres, 27
Tosa clan, the, 71
Tosa, daimiō of, 33, 35, 50, 53, 63
Tosa and Hizen, political union of, 137
_Tozama_, daimiōs, 34
Trade, effect of, abolition of feudalism on, 94;
hampered state of, 82
Trade quarters in towns, 195
“Tranquillity of the People, The,” 181
Trans-Siberian Railway, the, 227
Transition, Japan in state of, 305
Treaties, first with Foreign Powers, 46;
revised treaties, 61;
new treaties, 209, 240, 272
Treaties, early working of, 108
“Treaty limits,” 48, 182
Treaty Ports, for foreign residence and trade, 48, 61
Treaty of Portsmouth, 264
Treaty Powers, sympathy of, with difficulties of Japanese Government,
114
Treaty revision, agitation for, 110, 179;
early desire for, 48;
Conferences, 178;
course of negotiations, 204, 205, 206;
Great Britain takes initiative, 207, 209;
other Powers fall into line, 240
“Tribute,” exaction of, by new Government, 83
Tsarevitch, attempt on life of, 194
Tsushima Islands, 25
Tsushima Straits, naval battle in, 263
Tuan, Prince, 241
Twenty-one Demands, the, 278
Two-clan government, 133, 275
Tycoon, the (_Taikun_), 23, 46, 54, 64, 66
_U-in_, 80
Udajin, 80
“Union for the establishment of a parliament,” 156
United States and Japan, friendly relations between, 265;
later friction, causes of, 265, 266
Universities, instruction in, 297
Uraga, Commodore Perry, at, 45
Uwajima, daimiō of, 50, 53
Uyéhara, Mr., 157
Vendettas, 303
Vladivostok, Russian squadron at, 259, 262
Waldersee, Count, 242
War taxes, imposed after Russian war, 105
Waséda College, the, 160
Weekly holiday, the, 71
Weihaiwei, retreat of Chinese fleet to, 220;
Japanese capture of, 221;
leased to Great Britain, 232
Western innovations, adoption of, 124
Western political literature, study of, 160
Western thought, the influence of, 297
Women, position of, 285;
education of, 294, 295
Women’s University, the, 295
Worship of animals, the, 141
Written language, Japanese, 18, 113, 268
Xavier, 27;
his warning to Spain, 31
Y.M.C.A. in Japan, 148
Yalu River, Russian defeat at the, 260
Yamaga Sokō, 149
Yamagata, Field-Marshal Prince, 174, 218, 221, 251, 255, 302
Yamaji, Mr. Y., 148
_Yamato Damashii_, or Japanese spirit, 150
Yano Fumiō, 165
_Yashikis_, or feudal residences, 53, 99
Yedo, seat of authority, 19, 66;
renamed Tōkiō, 79;
postponed opening of, 107
Yokohama, 46, 55, 58
Yoritomo, 20
Yuan Shih-kai, Chinese Resident in Seoul, 215, 241
Printed in Great Britain at
_The Mayflower Press, Plymouth_. William Brendon & Son, Ltd.
1922
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_Demy 8vo. With Illustrations & Plans. Price 32s. Nett_
A DIPLOMAT IN JAPAN
The Inner History of the Critical Years in the Evolution of Japan when
the Ports were opened and the Monarchy restored, recorded by a
Diplomatist who took an active part in the events of the time, with an
account of his personal experiences during that period
BY
THE RT. HON. SIR ERNEST SATOW
P.C., G.C.M.G., LL.D., D.C.L.
British Minister at Peking, 1900–5
Formerly Secretary of the British Legation at Tōkiō.
[Illustration:
The Family Crest of the TOKUGAWA SHŌGUNS.
]
SOME EARLY REVIEWS.
A truly remarkable series of impressions of memorable and notable
scenes.
_Sheffield
Independent._
“SIR ERNEST SATOW DESCRIBES ONE OF THE MOST FATEFUL CHAPTERS IN THE
HISTORY OF THE FAR EAST WITH THE AUTHORITY OF A CHIEF ACTOR in the
scenes that he narrates.... He played his part not infrequently at the
risk of his own life.”—_Times._
“The renascence of Japan is unique in modern history. Half a century
ago the country was governed by a feudal system more ancient than
mediævalism.... The story of this wonderful transformation is told by
Sir Ernest Satow who lived through it, and played a notable part in
bringing it about.... Sir Ernest Satow recalls and will preserve a
thousand details of a story the like of which has never been conceived
in fiction.... Like his friend and colleague, the late Lord Redesdale,
Sir Ernest Satow varied his official life in Japan with risky
excursions full of incident and unconventionality.... THE MOST
PICTURESQUE STORY OF A DIPLOMAT’S ADVENTURES THAT HAS APPEARED since
Lord Redesdale’s famous book, which was based in part upon Sir
Ernest’s lively diary.”—_Yorkshire Post._
“A REMARKABLE BOOK.... The author has the ability to make his history
interesting in the highest degree.... He saw everything that he wished
to see. He had business with all classes of people from the temporal and
spiritual rulers down to the humblest of the people.... Most
valuable.... A book to be read with interest and profit by all who have
to do with Japan.”—_Dundee Courier._
“Sir Ernest penetrated the veil.”—_London and China Express._
“Not the least interesting part of the book consists of the glimpses it
gives into the inner workings of diplomacy.”—_Manchester Guardian._
AMONG PRIMITIVE PEOPLES IN BORNEO
A Description of the Lives, Habits & Customs of the Piratical
Head-Hunters of North Borneo, with an Account of Interesting Objects of
Prehistoric Antiquity discovered in the Island
BY
IVOR H. N. EVANS, B.A.
Fellow of the Royal Anthropological Institute.
[Illustration:
A BORNEAN HAT.
]
_Demy 8vo._ _With Many Illustrations & a Map._ _21s. Net_
SOME EARLY REVIEWS.
“Supremely absorbing.”—_Western Daily News._
“Contains an enormous amount of intensely interesting information about
North Borneo.”—_Sheffield Independent._
“AN ADMIRABLE BOOK FOR THE MANY WISTFUL WANDERERS WHOSE TRAVELLING MUST
PERFORCE BE DONE BY PROXY. A valuable contribution to anthropology,
handsomely Illustrated.”—_The Times._
“Amply stocked with most interesting and valuable information.”—_Glasgow
Herald._
“A BOOK OF RARE MERIT, full of quaint personal experiences, vivid
description, and shrewd comment.”—_Sunday Times._
“There are no more interesting primitive peoples than those in Borneo.
That they are or have been head-hunters makes them especially attractive
to the general reader, if not to their neighbours. Their tribal life,
moreover, is extraordinarily interesting. This is REALLY A VALUABLE
CONTRIBUTION to the study of these peoples.”—_Pall Mall Gazette._
“A valuable contribution to anthropology.”—_Scotsman._
“IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO QUOTE HERE THE HUNDRED AND ONE INTERESTING THINGS
WHICH ARE TO BE FOUND IN THIS BOOK. Messrs. Seeley, Service are to be
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information, and at the same time so enjoyable to read.”—_Glasgow
Citizen._
“A fine volume. It presents the minutest details of the daily life and
habits, social conditions, superstitions etc., of a primitive people,
written by a man who had long experience of the people he describes.
There are many illustrations and a good map.”—_Newcastle Chronicle._
IN UNKNOWN CHINA
A Record of the Observations, Adventures and Experiences of a Pioneer of
Civilization During a Prolonged Sojourn Amongst the Wild and Unknown
Nosu Tribe of Western China
BY
S. POLLARD
Author of “In Tight Corners in China.”
[Illustration]
_Demy 8vo._ _With Many Illustrations & Maps._ _Price 25s. Nett_
SOME EARLY REVIEWS.
“Fascinating, racy and humorous.”—_Aberdeen Journal._
“An amazing record of adventure. Mr. Pollard is delightful from every
point of view. By the valiance of his own heart and faith he wins
through.”—_Methodist Recorder._
“Mr. Pollard is not merely an interesting man, but a courageous one....
The first white man to penetrate into Nosuland where live the bogey-men
of the Manchus.... This is a people that has struck terror into the
hearts of the neighbouring Chinese by the cruelty and the fierceness of
its valour.”—_Sketch._
“Mr. Pollard’s book is laid where dwell amid almost unpenetrable hills a
race the Chinese have never yet succeeded in subduing.”—_Western Morning
News._
“In addition to its engrossing matter, Mr. Pollard’s book has the
attraction of a bright and pleasant style, which reveals at times a
happy sense of humour, a characteristic feature not always very marked
in this branch of literature.”—_Glasgow Herald._
“Nosuland is a very interesting region.... Mr. Pollard has some awkward
experiences. That, of course, makes his narrative all the more lively
and interesting.”—_Liverpool Post._
“Mr. Pollard during his travels held his life in his hand from day to
day, and owed his ultimate safety to his own conciliatory
prudence.”—_Manchester Guardian._
“Full of adventure and strangeness, with many excellent
photographs.”—_Daily Mail._
“Very readable and valuable.... Admirably printed and generously
illustrated.”—_Bristol Times and Mirror._
UNEXPLORED NEW GUINEA
Travel, Adventure, and Observation amongst Head-Hunters and Cannibals of
the unexplored interior
BY
WILFRID N. BEAVER
For many years Resident Magistrate in Western New Guinea.
[Illustration:
A NEW GUINEA LAKATOI.
]
_Demy 8vo._ _With 32 Illustrations & 4 Maps._ _Price 25s. Nett._
SOME EARLY REVIEWS.
“A piquant and well illustrated book.”—_Graphic._
“A vivid and carefully detailed record in which humour and horror keep
company.”—_Dundee Advertiser._
“Mr. Beaver has contributed much of value and interest to the gradually
accumulating knowledge of New Guinea, and his premature death will prove
a great loss to the science of anthropology.”—A. C. HADDON, M.A., Sc.D.,
F.R.S.
“A most valuable and informing book describing a weirdly fascinating
country, and Mr. Beaver’s account is all the more valuable as it is the
only book that deals with the western division as a whole.”—_Aberdeen
Journal._
“A true explorer who achieved much. The book deals with its most
formidable division—the vast unknown West ... illustrated with unique
photographs, and told in simple, modest language which can hardly fail
to grip the reader.”—_Country Life._
“The Ukairavi people are cannibals who used literally to regard the
Morobai as a kind of larder from which supplies of fresh meat could be
obtained together with a little excitement in the hunting of their
victims.”—_Glasgow Herald._
“May be taken as the first standard work on the interior of New
Guinea ... contains a wealth of detail admirably illustrated. A really
valuable and at the same time an intensely interesting book.”—_Sheffield
Telegraph._
SEELEY, SERVICE & CO., LTD., 38 GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
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