Rare days in Japan

by George Trumbull Ladd

The arrival of the Empress of China some hours earlier than her advertised time had deceived the friends who were to meet me; and so I had to make my way alone to a hotel in Tokyo. But notes despatched by messengers to two of them—one a native and since a distinguished member of the Diet, and the other an American and a classmate at Andover, within two hours quite relieved my feelings of strangeness and friendlessness; and never since those hours have such feelings returned while sojourning among a people whom I have learned to admire so much and love so well.

It had been my expectation to start by next morning’s train for the ancient capital of Kyoto, where I was to give a course of lectures in the missionary College of Doshisha. But in the evening it was proposed that I should delay my starting for a single day longer, and visit the Imperial Diet, which had only a few days before, amidst no little political excitement, begun its sittings. I gladly consented; since it was likely to prove a rare and rarely instructive experience to observe for myself, in the company of friends who could interpret both customs and language, this early attempt at constitutional government on the part of a people who had been for so many centuries previously under a strictly monarchical system, and excluded until very recently from all the world’s progress in the practice of the more popular forms of self-government. The second session of the First Diet, which began to sit on November 29, 1890, had been brought to a sudden termination on the twenty-fifth of December, 1891, by an Imperial order. This order implied that the First Diet had made something of a “mess” of their attempts at constitutional government. The “extraordinary general election” which had been carried out on the fifteenth of February, 1892, had been everywhere rather stormy and in some places even bloody. But the new Diet had come together again and were once more to be permitted to try their hand at law-making under the terms of the Constitution which his Imperial Majesty had been most “graciously pleased to grant” to His people. The memory of the impressions made by the observations of this visit is rendered much more vivid and even a matter for astonishment, when these impressions are compared with the recent history of the sad failures and exceedingly small successes of the Russian Duma. So sharply marked and even enormous a contrast seems, in my judgment, about equally due to differences in the two peoples and differences in the two Emperors. Another fact also must be taken into the account of any attempt at comparison. The aristocracy of Russia, who form the entourage and councillors of the Tsar are quite too frequently corrupt and without any genuine patriotism or regard for the good of the people; while the statesmen of Japan, whom the Emperor has freely made his most trusted advisers, for numbers, patriotism, courage, sagacity, and unselfishness, have probably not had their equals anywhere else in the history of the modern world.

The Japanese friends who undertook to provide tickets of admission to the House of Peers were unsuccessful in their application. It was easier for the foreign friend to obtain written permission for the Lower House. It was necessary, then, to set forth with the promise of having only half of our coveted opportunity, but with the secret hope that some stroke of good luck might make possible the fulfilment of the other half. And this, so far as I was concerned, happily came true.

As our party were entering the door of the House of Representatives, I was startled by the cry of “soshi” and the rush toward us of two or three of the Parliamentary police officers, who proceeded to divest the meekest and most peaceable of its members, the Reverend Mr. H——, of the very harmless small walking-stick which he was carrying in his hand. It should be explained that, according to Professor Chamberlain, since 1888 there had sprung up a class of rowdy youths, called soshi in Japanese—“juvenile agitators who have taken all politics to be their province, who obtrude their views and their presence on ministers of state, and waylaid—bludgeon and knife in hand—those whose opinions on matters of public interest happen to differ from their own. They are, in a strangely modernised disguise, the representatives of the wandering swashbucklers or rōnin of the old régime.”

After his cane had been put in guard, and a salutary rebuke administered to my clerical friend for his seeming disregard of the regulations providing for the freedom from this kind of “influence” which was guaranteed to the law-makers of the New Japan, we were allowed to go upon our way. Curiously enough, however, the very first thing, after the opening, which came before the House, explained more clearly why what seemed such an extraordinary fuss had been made over so insignificant a trifle. For one of the representatives rose to complain that only the day before a member of the Liberal party had been set upon and badly cut with knives by soshi supposed to belong to the Government party. The complaint was intended to be made more effective and bitter by the added remark that the Speaker of the House had been known to be very polite, in this and in all cases where a similar ill-turn had been done to one of his own party, to send around to the residence of the sufferer messages of condolence and of inquiry after the state of his health. In the numerous reverse cases, however, the politeness of this officer of the whole House had not appeared equally adequate to the occasions afforded by the “roughs” of the anti-Government party. To this sarcastic sally the Speaker, with perfect good temper, made a quiet reply; and at once the entire body broke out into laughter, and the matter was forthwith dropped from attention. On my asking for an interpretation of this mirth-provoking remark, it was given to me as follows: “The members of the Speaker’s party had always taken pains to inform him of their injuries, and so he had known just where to distribute such favours; but if the members of the opposite party would let him know when they were suffering in the same manner, he would be at least equally happy to extend the same courtesies to them.”

It will assist to a better appreciation of what I saw on this occasion, of the personnel and procedure of the Japanese House of Representatives, if some account is given of its present constitution; this differs from that of 1892 only in the fact that it is somewhat more popular now than it was then. The House is composed of members returned by male Japanese subjects of not less than twenty-five years of age and paying a direct tax of not less than ten yen. There are two kinds of members; those returned by incorporated cities containing not less than 30,000 inhabitants, and those by people residing in other districts. The incorporated cities form independent electoral districts; and larger cities containing more than 100,000 inhabitants are allowed to return one member for every 130,000 people. The other districts send one member at the rate of approximately every 130,000 people; each prefecture being regarded as one electoral district. Election is carried on by open ballot, one vote for each man; and a general election is to take place every four years, supposing the House sits through these four years without suffering a dissolution in the interval. The qualifications for a seat in the House are simple for all classes of candidates. Every Japanese subject who has attained the age of not less than thirty years is eligible;—only those who are mentally defective or have been deprived of civil rights being disqualified. The property qualification which was at first enforced for candidates was abolished in 1900 by an Amendment to the Law of Election.

I am sure that no unprejudiced observer of the body of men who composed the Japanese House of Representatives in the Spring of 1892, could have failed to be greatly impressed with a certain air of somewhat undisciplined vigour and as yet unskilled but promising business-like quality. The first odd detail to be noticed was a polished black tablet standing on the desk of each member and inscribed with the Japanese character for his number. Thus they undertook to avoid that dislike to having one’s own name ill used, in which all men share but which is particularly offensive among Oriental peoples. For instead of referring to one another as “the gentleman from Arkansas,” etc., they made reference to one another as “number so or so.” How could anything be more strictly impersonal than sarcasm, or criticism, or even abuse, directed against a number that happens only temporarily to be connected with one’s Self!

It was my good fortune to light upon a time when the business of the day was most interesting and suggestive of the temper and intentions of these new experimenters in popular legislation; and, as well, of the hold they already supposed themselves to possess on the purse-strings of the General Government. What was my surprise to find that this power was, to all appearances, far more effective and frankly exercised by the Japanese Diet than has for a long time been the case with our own House of Congress. For here there was little chance for secret and illicit influences brought to bear upon Committees on Appropriations; or for secure jobbery or log-rolling or lobbying with particular legislators.

The business of the day was the passing upon requests for supplementary grants from the different Departments of the General Government. It was conducted in the following perfectly open and intelligible way: The Vice-Minister of each Department was allowed so many minutes in which he was expected to explain the exact purpose for which the money was wanted; and to tell precisely in yen how much would be required for that purpose and for that purpose only. The request having been read, the Vice-Minister then retired, and fifteen minutes, not more, were allowed for a speech from some member of the opposition. The Speaker, or—to use the more appropriate Japanese title—President of the House, was at that time Mr. T. Hoshi, who had qualified as a barrister in London, and who in personal appearance bore a somewhat striking resemblance to the late President Harper of Chicago University. He seemed to preside with commendable tact and dignity.

As I look backward upon that session of the Imperial Japanese Diet, there is one item of business which it transacted that fills me with astonishment. The request of the Department of Education for money to rebuild the school-houses which had been destroyed by the terrible earthquake of the preceding winter was immediately granted. Similar requests from the Department of Justice, which wished to rebuild the wrecked court-houses, and from the Department of Communications, for funds to restore the post-offices, also met with a favourable reception. But when the Government asked an appropriation for the Department of the Navy, with which to found iron-works, so that they might be prepared to repair their own war-ships, the request was almost as promptly denied! To be sure, the alleged ground of the denial was that the plans of the Government were not yet sufficiently matured.