There may be some who yet remember Tenniel’s cartoon in Punch of 1872 depicting a Japanese nobleman attired in orthodox haori and hakama and wearing two swords in his girdle, watching a faction fight in Ireland, and remarking to the Archbishop of Canterbury,—“These, your grace, I suppose, are Heathens?” To which the answer was: “On the contrary, your Excellency, they are among our most enthusiastic Religionists!” The figure in the ancient costume of Japan was intended to represent Prince Iwakura, the head of an Embassy which included Ito, Kido, Okubo, and others whose names are familiar enough to the people of the Occident to-day but were then as strange to their ears as can well be imagined. The visitors had come to England from the Far East by way of America, and were here to learn all that it was likely would be useful to the people of their own land to know. When he quitted Japan on the mission to Europe and America Prince Iwakura was U-dai-jin, or Vice-Chancellor of the Right, and had always occupied a high position at the Court of Kioto, being a Kuge—i.e. a member of the old nobility—by birth. He had, like Prince Sanjo, been a prominent leader, intellectually, in the great transitional period of 1867-71, and was thoroughly imbued with the tenets of the kai-koku section of the Japanese body-politic, though he can scarcely be said to have been a whole-souled advocate of unrestricted intercourse with foreign nations,—not at any rate until after his visit to the capitals of the West in 1872.
PRINCE IWAKURA TOMOMI
The prince began his life at the palace as one of the Jiju, or junior chamberlains in the imperial service at Kioto. This was in the year 1848, when he was about sixteen years of age. In the month of February 1858, at the time when the American Minister Townsend Harris was pressing the Government of Yedo for the completion of a new treaty with the United States, it happened that Hotto, the feudal lord of Bichiu, was sent to Kioto by the Shogun to explain the critical state of affairs, and with the request that the Emperor Komei, who was then on the throne, would give his sanction to the conclusion of the treaty referred to. But several of the Kuge protested, Iwakura being one of them, and presented a memorial to the Emperor, urging him not to consent to the Shogun’s proposition. As far as Iwakura was concerned, it was not through any disposition towards factious opposition to the Bakufu that he protested, as was to be well comprehended from the fact that when the Bakufu was being urged by the Court party to expel foreigners from Japan altogether, and the Tokugawa officials realising the impossibility of carrying out the imperial commands, and that it was mainly due to the circumstance that the kuge had the ear of the ruler at Kioto, yet pretended to acquiesce, and suggested that the Kuge should unite with the samurai in the effort to turn out the Westerners, the intention being that the kuge should thus come to see the folly of attempting to shut up the treaty ports, Iwakura at once said publicly that the Bakufu’s suggestion was just and right. The idea of his taking this view of the matter was, however, so displeasing to the Emperor Komei that Iwakura was ordered to shave his head and go into retirement until further orders. Thus it was by his impartial attitude that he made enemies among those who were opponents of the Shogun, and they dubbed him Sabakuka, or helper of the Bakufu, ostracising him so completely that no one went near him. As a matter of fact he was no friend to the Bakufu, but he was a fair-minded man, not afraid to give utterance to his convictions, and did not approve of the principle of wantonly opposing every step that the Shogun might find it advisable to take.
While Iwakura was dwelling in this enforced seclusion means were found of opening up communication between him and Saigo Takamori, Okubo, Kido, Goto Shojiro, and others of the imperialist party, and so when the change of government was brought about in 1868 he was at once released from his retirement and appointed at first a Sanyo, then a Gijo, and finally, when the new administration was completely arranged for, in the autumn of that year, he became a Fuku-Sosai or Vice-Chancellor of the Government, a title that subsequently was merged in that of U-dai-jin.
Long prior to his journey to Western lands he had come in contact with Western people to no inconsiderable extent, as a brief allusion to the part he took in the reception of the Duke of Edinburgh in 1869 will suffice to show. But first it should be explained that as a Court noble he had in the preceding year accompanied his present Majesty from Kioto to Yedo, thenceforward to be known as Tokio. The youthful sovereign travelled by the famous To-kai-do, or road of the Eastern Sea, and as it was the first and last occasion on which the sovereign journeyed under conditions that have long since ceased to exist, it may be worth while to recall some of the features of the imperial procession and the methods of travel which down to that date were adopted in Japan. Matters have in this respect been completely changed, for the railways have revolutionised everything. The honjins at which the daimios stayed for the night when journeying by easy stages from their provinces to the Shogun’s capital at stated periods and back to their domains have mostly disappeared,—the post stations, where their servitors hired baggage ponies and their palanquin bearers were changed, every few miles, still exist on most roads, but the palanquins have been replaced by the “man-power-car” (jin-riki-sha), a vehicle then uninvented. The stately manners and elaborate courtesy of the old regime have been replaced by a certain brusqueness that sometimes offends. The journey from Kioto to Yedo formerly occupied four weeks. The average rate of progress was thus about twelve miles per day, but it was not uniform, and much depended on the character of the road, and of the weather. The Emperor rode in a specially constructed “norimono” (lit.: thing for riding in) and was hidden from the gaze of the vulgar by silk-gauze curtains. The bearers of the imperial vehicle had been trained to perfection in the art of carrying it steadily,—to the degree, indeed, that they could run fast with it when a bowl brimful of water had been placed inside and not spill a drop, if we may credit the assertions of those who formerly made their journeys in this fashion,—and were carefully matched for height to prevent any oscillation. In the month of November, when the Emperor removed to his new capital, the days were warm and sunny, and the nights cool, so that the time chosen was the pleasantest for travelling of all the year, and as the honjin keepers had been warned of his Majesty’s approach by advance couriers all had been made ready for his fitting reception. By his express command no levy of any sort was made but, down to the smallest article needed for use on the road, everything was paid for. As the procession neared Kanagawa some of the Yokohama residents were present at the roadside to witness its passage through the little town, and it is supposed that his Majesty, then not quite seventeen years of age, obtained his first view of the strangers in his realms through the gauze-curtained windows of his norimono. The advance was slow and dignified. There were 1000 soldiers marching in scattered parties of from forty to two hundred, with a few flags, and several bands of music playing a weird air that no one recognised. Beyond this there was not a sound. The people bowed profoundly, but in perfect silence, as the ruler of Japan passed by. Following the Emperor came Prince Iwakura, in a norimono, and some twenty other nobles of the Court, as also three or four territorial lords, each with his own retinue. Slowly the procession wended its way along the “Eastern Sea Road” at a foot pace, until the castle of Yedo which had for two and a half centuries sheltered the deputy ruler, but thenceforward to be the headquarters of the real sovereign, came in sight, from the suburb of Shinagawa. Soon the imperial norimono had been borne across the inner moat and the Emperor had reached his palace, not again to appear in public for a long time, and then not in a norimono but in a wheeled vehicle of European pattern drawn by well-groomed horses.
Next year there came to Japan Prince Alfred of England, and with his reception as the first foreign prince to visit Japan under the new order of things created by the Restoration Prince Iwakura had all to do. At the time he gracefully said that the Government had given to the reception of the English prince the most anxious consideration, inasmuch as it was of all things wished that the utmost friendship should be shown towards Foreign Powers, and the Government was ready to promote the formation of intimate relations even though in doing so they might have to sacrifice to some degree the ancient usages and ideas, so much so that the Emperor would be compelled to observe an altogether new etiquette in receiving Prince Alfred in a way that would be acceptable to Great Britain, but that it afforded intense gratification to reflect that this compliment would in the first instance be paid to an English prince, and would form some slight acknowledgment of the abundant proofs which Japan had received of the thorough good will of England and of the Government of Queen Victoria.
It is ancient history now, but the Galatea dropped anchor at Yokohama on Sunday, the 25th of August 1869. The royal standard, however, was not hoisted by her until the 31st, and then all the warships in harbour and the fort of Kanagawa broke into a tremendous salute, which later the Galatea returned with the flag of Japan at the main. On the 1st of September the Duke took up his residence in the palace of Hama-go-ten, in Tokio, which had been made ready for him, and on the 4th he went to the palace within the castle to meet the Ten-shi, who welcomed his guest in the Audience Chamber, and then invited him to a less formal meeting in the adjoining garden of Fuki-age. Refreshments were served in the maple pavilion, and the Emperor awaited the Duke’s coming in the tiny pavilion by the waterfall. As Prince Alfred entered the Ten-shi rose and bowed courteously, and begged his guest to be seated. The suites remained standing, while the Emperor said “It affords me great pleasure to receive a prince who has come so far, and I hope you will remain long enough to repay you for the fatigues of the journey.” The best wishes were expressed on both sides for cordial relations between England and Japan and the memorable interview was brought to a conclusion.
Interest will always attach to this first meeting of the Japanese Emperor with a member of another ruling house, for it signalised a vast alteration in the views of the Japanese aristocracy as well as the beginning of cordial relations between the two powers which have with the lapse of time grown closer and closer, and promise to be eternal. It is due to the memory of Prince Iwakura to show, as it has here been sought to do, that he most clearly appreciated the benefits which were certain to accrue from the maintenance of a mutual understanding between his country and ours, and did all that it was feasible in that epoch to do to cement the ties which were thus early growing up between nations destined to be one day absolutely allied.
In 1870 Prince Iwakura was despatched on an important mission to the lord of Satsuma province, being the bearer of a request from the Emperor that the daimio Shimadzu Saburo, then dwelling at Kagoshima, should come to Tokio and give his assistance in affairs of State, by taking his seat at the Grand Council. The Emperor wrote a special letter to Shimadzu,—who was virtually all powerful in Satsuma, though nominally the uncle and truly the father of the daimio of the clan,—to the effect that the Dainagon Tomiyoshi (Iwakura) was charged to convey the expression of his Majesty’s esteem and calling upon him (Shimadzu) to join in the great work of reforming the national institutions. To Iwakura the Imperial Commission was given in these terms:—