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.