All these facts, though already familiar to the reader, find a fitting place in the context of the great political development of the Daika era. For the main features of that development were that the entire nation became the public people of the realm and the whole of the land became the property of the Crown, the hereditary nobles being relegated to the rank of State pensioners. This metamorphosis entailed taking an accurate census of the population; making a survey of the land; fixing the boundaries of provinces, districts, and villages; appointing officials to administer the affairs of these local divisions, and organizing the central government with boards and bureaux. The system of taxation also had to be changed, and the land had to be apportioned to the people. In former days, the only charges levied by the State on the produce of the land were those connected with religious observances and military operations, and even in imposing these the intervention of the heads of uji had to be employed. But by the Daika reforms the interest of the hereditary nobility in the taxes Avas limited to realizing their sustenance allowances; while as for the land, it was removed entirely beyond their control and partitioned among the people, in the proportion already noted, on leases terminable at the end of six years.

Of course, whatever political exigency may have dictated this short-tenure system, it was economically unsound and could not remain long in practice. The measures adopted to soften the aspect of these wholesale changes in the eyes of the hereditary nobility whom they so greatly affected, have been partly noted above. It may here be added, however, that not only was the office of district governor—who ranked next to the provincial governor (kokushi)—filled as far as possible by former kuni no miyatsuko, but also these latter were entrusted with the duty of observing and reporting upon the conduct of the new officials as to assiduity and integrity, to which duty there were also nominated special officials called choshu-shi. By the aid of these and other tactful devices, the operation of the new system was guaranteed against disturbance. Nothing was deemed too trivial to assist in promoting that end. Even such a petty incident as the appearance of a white pheasant was magnified into a special indication of heaven's approval, and a grand Court ceremony having been held in honour of the bird, the Emperor proclaimed a general amnesty and ordered that the name of the period should be changed to Haku-chi (White Pheasant). Something of this may be set down frankly to the superstitious spirit of the time. But much is evidently attributable to the statecraft of the Emperor's advisers, who sought to persuade the nation that this breaking away from all its venerable old traditions had supernatural approval.

There was, indeed, one defect in the theory of the new system. From time immemorial the polity of the empire had been based on the family relation. The sovereign reigned in virtue of his lineage, and the hereditary nobles owed their high positions and administrative competence equally to descent. To discredit the title of the nobles was to disturb the foundation of the Throne itself, and to affirm that want of virtue constituted a valid reason for depriving the scions of the gods of their inherited functions, was to declare constructively that the descendant of Amaterasu also held his title by right of personal worthiness. That was the Chinese theory. Their history shows plainly that they recognized the right of men like Tang or Wu to overturn tyrants like Chieh of the Hsia dynasty, and Chou of the Yen dynasty. The two Japanese Emperors, Kotoku and Tenchi (668-671), seem to have partially endorsed a cognate principle. But nothing could be at greater variance with the cardinal tenet of the Japanese polity, which holds that "the King can do no wrong" and that the Imperial line must remain unbroken to all eternity.

ENVOYS TO CHINA

The importance attached to intercourse with China during the reign of Kotoku was illustrated by the dimensions of the embassies sent to the Tang Court and by the quality of the envoys. Two embassies were sent in 653, one consisting of 121 persons and the other of 120.* The former included seventeen student-priests, and among them was the eldest son of Kamatari himself. Another embassy was despatched in 654, and the records show incidently that the sea route was taken, for after a voyage lasting some months and therefore presumably of a coasting character, the envoys landed at Laichou in Shantung. They finally reached Changan, the Tang capital, and were most hospitably received by the Emperor Kao-sung. The hardships of the journey are attested by the fact that three of the student-priests died at sea. One remained in China for thirty-six years, and Joye, Kamatari's son, did not return to Japan for twelve years.

*The ship carrying the embassy was wrecked off the south coast of
Japan, and out of 120 persons only five escaped.

In short, when these students left their country in search of literary, religious, and political lore, they had no assurance of ever thereafter finding an opportunity to see their homes again. The overland journey was almost impossible without guides and guards, and communication by sea seems to have been fitful and uncertain. The last of the above three embassies was led by no less a person than the renowned scholar, Kuromaro, who had been associated with the priest, Bin, in modelling the new administrative system of Japan. Kuromaro never returned from China; he died there. A few months before the despatch of Kuromaro as envoy, his illustrious coadjutor, Bin, expired in the temple of Azumi. The Emperor repaired in person to the sick priest's chamber, and said, "If you die to-day, I will follow you to-morrow." So great was the reverence showed towards learning and piety in that era. Thus, hazardous and wearisome as was the voyage to China over stormy waters in a rude sailing boat, its successful accomplishment established a title to official preferment and high honour. It will be seen by and by that similar treatment was extended in the nineteenth century to men who visited Europe and America in the pursuit of knowledge.

THE THIRTY-SEVENTH SOVEREIGN, THE EMPRESS SAIMEI (A.D. 655-661)

On the demise of Kotoku, in 654, his natural successor would have been Prince Naka, who, ten years previously, had chosen to reform the empire rather than to rule it. But the prince deemed that the course of progress still claimed his undivided attention, and therefore the Empress Kogyoku was again raised to the throne under the name of* Saimei—the first instance of a second accession in Japanese history. She reigned nearly seven years, and the era is remarkable chiefly for expeditions against the Yemishi and for complications with Korea. To the former chapter of history sufficient reference had already been made, but the latter claims a moment's attention.

*It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that all the names given in these pages to Japanese sovereigns are posthumous. Thus Saimei, during her lifetime, was called Ame-toyo-takara-ikashi-hi-tarashi-hime.