Japan

by David Murray

On February 8, 1868, the emperor sent to the foreign representatives a request that they communicate to their governments the fact that hereafter the administration of both internal and external affairs would be conducted by him, and that officers would be appointed to conduct the business which may arise under the foreign treaties.

In token of the sincerity of this communication an invitation was conveyed to the representatives of [pg 373] the powers then at Hyōgo to present themselves before the emperor on March 23d. The significance of this event can scarcely now be conceived. Never before in the history of the empire had its divine head deigned to admit to his presence the despised foreigner, or put himself on an equality with the sovereign of the foreigner. The event created in the ancient capital the utmost excitement. The French and Dutch ministers had each in turn been conducted to the palace and had been received in audience. No serious incident had occurred. But during the progress of Sir Harry Parkes,[318] the British representative, from his lodgings to the palace, two fanatical samurai rushed upon his escort, and before they could be overpowered wounded nine of them. One of the would-be assassins was killed and the other was captured after being desperately wounded. The party returned at once to the lodgings of the envoy who fortunately was uninjured.

The court, by whose invitation the ministers had undertaken to present themselves before the emperor, was overwhelmed with mortification. High officers at once waited upon Sir Harry and tendered their sympathy and profound regret. After making every reparation in their power, arrangements were made to hold the audience on the day following that originally appointed. It was held accordingly without further incident. Warned by this alarming occurrence, the government issued an edict, that as the treaties had now been sanctioned by the emperor, the protection of foreigners was henceforth [pg 374] his particular care; that if therefore any samurai were to be guilty of an outrage against them, he should be degraded from his rank, and denied the honorable privilege of committing hara-kiri; he should suffer the punishment of a common criminal and have his head exposed in token of dishonor. Miyeda Shigeru, the surviving culprit, was thus punished.

The scene of the brief contest was now shifted to the east. The ex-shōgun seemed to vacillate between a complete surrender of his power and a provisional retention of it until the will of the nation could be taken by a conference of the daimyōs. On the arrival of the imperial forces in Yedo the final terms of his future treatment were announced to the ex-shōgun: That he retire to Mito, and there live in seclusion; that the castle in Yedo be evacuated; and that the vessels and armaments now in the possession of the ex-shōgun be surrendered. These terms were accepted, and he took up his residence in his ancestral province of Mito. Subsequently he was permitted to remove to the castle of Sumpu at Shizuoka. With him the dynasty of Tokugawa shōguns vanishes from history.

His adherents, however, still continued to resist the imperial forces. For months the Aizu troops hovered about Yedo, and at last came to blows with the imperial troops at the grounds of the Uyeno temple on July 4, 1868. It was a hard-fought battle, and was at last decided by an Armstrong gun in the hands of the Hizen troops. The fine old temple was destroyed, and the rebel forces withdrew to the north.

Further complications arose—fighting at Utsunomiya, etc.,—but at last they were ended by the surrender of the castle of Wakamatsu, where the daimyō of Aizu had made a stand. With generous fortitude he took the blame upon himself and submitted to the clemency of his sovereign.

It is only necessary now in order to bring to a close the account of this short military contest, to refer to the movements of the fleet lying at Shinagawa. It will be remembered that by the terms accepted by the ex-shōgun these vessels were to be surrendered to the imperial forces. There were seven of them, mounting in all eighty-three guns. They were under the command of Enomoto Izumi-no-kami, who had learned in Holland the science of naval war. He did not approve of his master surrendering these muniments of war. On the morning of the day when the vessels were to be delivered over to the imperial commander, they had disappeared from their anchorage. In the night Enomoto had got up steam, crept out through Yedo bay, and sailed northward to more friendly climes. The imperial fleet followed, and after some manœuvring at Sendai proceeded to Hakodate. Here the warlike operations between the rebels and the imperial troops lasted till July, 1869. Finally, the leaders, Enomoto and Matsudaira Tarō, seeing that it was hopeless to contend longer against a constantly increasing enemy, offered to commit hara-kiri, in order that their followers might be saved by a surrender. Their unselfish purpose was not, however, permitted. Then it was determined that the [pg 376] two leaders should give themselves up to the besiegers, to save the rest. This was done. The prisoners were sent to Yedo, and their gallant conduct and heroic devotion to the cause of their prince were so keenly appreciated that they were all pardoned.

While these events were transpiring in the east and north, the work of establishing a system of administration was proceeded with at Kyōto.

A constitution was drawn up, detailing the various departments of the government, and the duties of the officers in each. These departments were: 1. Of supreme administration; 2. of the Shintō religion; 3. of home affairs; 4. of foreign affairs; 5. of war; 6. of finance; 7. of judicial affairs; 8. of legislative affairs. This scheme underwent several changes, and for a long time was regarded as only tentative.

The ablest men in the movements which were now in progress were afraid of the traditions of indulgence and effeminacy which attached to the court at Kyōto. In order to restore the government to a true and self-respecting basis, it seemed necessary to cut loose from the centuries of seclusion in which the emperor had remained, and enter upon the work of governing the empire as a serious and solemn task. It was in this spirit that Ōkubo Toshimichi of Satsuma, one of the ablest of the statesmen of the new era, made in 1868 a novel and startling proposition. It was in a memorial[319] addressed [pg 377] by him to the emperor. He proposed that the emperor should abandon the traditions which had grown up respecting his person and his court, and rule his empire with personal supervision. To do this successfully, he recommended that the capital be transferred from the place of its degrading superstitions to a new home. He suggested that Ōsaka be the place selected.