The Making of Modern Japan / An Account of the Progress of Japan from Pre-feudal Days to Constitutional Government & the Position of a Great Power, With Chapters on Religion, the Complex Family System, Education, &c.

by John Harington Gubbins

The abolition of the feudal system formed one of the subjects of discussion in the embryo parliament, the Kōgisho, soon after its creation in 1869. The way had been prepared for this discussion by the presentation of memorials on the subject at the time of the Shōgun’s resignation eighteen months before from several clans representing both of the parties which were so soon to be engaged in active hostilities. Memorials of this kind to the Throne and Shōgunate, and Edicts and Notifications issued in response to them, were common methods in those days of arriving at decisions in grave matters of State. Borrowed originally, like so many other things, from China, they were part of the machinery of central government. The recommendations offered in these Memorials revealed a considerable divergence of opinion. But they also showed, what has already been pointed out, namely, the recognition of the close connection between feudalism and the Shōgunate; and the existence of a very general feeling that, in spite of the serious disturbance of the whole administrative structure which so sweeping a change must necessarily involve, nothing short of the surrender of feudal fiefs to the Crown would be a satisfactory solution of the problem presented by the fall of the Shōgunate. This conviction had taken root in the minds of men like Kido, Iwakura and Ōkubo, whose mission to the clans, mentioned in a previous chapter, was a proof of their leading position in the new Government.

The method adopted for giving effect to the decision arrived at was the voluntary surrender of feudal fiefs to the Throne, the lead in this matter being taken by the same four clans which had planned and carried out the Restoration. In March, 1869—a memorable date for the nation—a Memorial in this sense, the authorship of which is generally ascribed to Kido, was presented to the Throne by the daimiōs of Satsuma, Chōshiū, Tosa and Hizen. The chief point emphasized in the Memorial was the necessity of a complete change of administration in order that “one central body of government and one universal authority” might be established; and, in accordance with the intentions of the Memorialists, the Sovereign was asked to dispose as he might think fit of the land and the people of the territories surrendered. The circumstances under which dual government had grown up were explained, stress being laid on the defect of that system, “the separation of the name from the reality of power,” and the Tokugawa Shōguns were denounced as usurpers. In this denunciation of the last line of Japanese rulers, due to political reasons, the fact that the system of dual government had grown up long before the Tokugawa family appeared upon the scene was conveniently ignored. As to “the separation of the name from the reality of power,” the expression is a reference to an old Chinese phrase, “the name without the substance,” a metaphor applied, amongst other things, to figure-head government. This is a stock phrase with Chinese and Japanese writers, who constantly appeal to a rule of conduct more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

The example set by the four clans was followed by others. By the end of the year out of 276 feudatories there were only seventeen abstainers from the movement, these being daimiōs of eastern territories who had taken the Shōgun’s side in the civil war. One of the earliest and most enthusiastic Memorialists was the daimiō of Kishiū, the Tokugawa prince who had succeeded to that fief by the promotion of his relative, Prince Kéiki, to be Shōgun. Only three years before he had been an advocate of the continuance of the Shōgunate. This change of attitude on the part of a prince who ranked with the daimiōs of Owari and Mito at the head of the feudal nobility may be interpreted as showing how natural was the association of feudalism with the Shōgunate in men’s minds, and how difficult for him, as for others, was the conception of a feudal system without a Shōgun.

The reply of the Throne to the Memorialists was of a non-committal nature. They were told that the question would be submitted to a Council of feudal nobles shortly to be held in the new Capital. There is no reason to suppose that the caution displayed in this answer implied any hesitation on the part of the Government to carry out the measure contemplated. The drastic character of the proposal justified caution in dealing with it, and the variety of the interests involved called for careful consideration. The proposal having been submitted to the assembly of daimiōs for their formal approval, a Decree was issued in August of the same year announcing its acceptance by the Throne, which felt, it was said, “that this course would consolidate the authority of the Government.” As a preliminary step, the administration of clan territories was remodelled so as to correspond with the new order of things; the daimiōs called together to pronounce on their own destinies returned in the altered rôle of governors (Chihanji) to the territories over which they had hitherto ruled; and the Government settled down to consider and determine in detail the various arrangements rendered necessary by the new conditions about to be created.

Two years later, on the 29th August, 1871, the Imperial Decree abolishing the feudal system appeared. “The clans,” so it ran, “are abolished, and prefectures are established in their place.” The brevity of the Decree, singular even for such documents, the length of which often ranged from one extreme to another, may in this instance be accounted for by the fact that an Imperial message was at the same time addressed to the new clan governors. In this reference was made to the sanction already accorded by the Throne to the proposal for the surrender of feudal fiefs, and it was pointed out that the sanction then expressed was not to be regarded as another instance of the common defect of “the name without the substance,” but that the Decree now issued must be understood in its literal sense, namely, the abolition of the clans and their conversion into prefectures. The message was followed by an order directing the ex-daimiōs to reside in future, with their families, in Yedo, their territories being entrusted temporarily to the care of former clan officers. This measure, while undoubtedly strengthening the hands of the Government, must have forcibly reminded the nobles concerned of the precautionary methods of Tokugawa days.

A further step in the same direction was taken by the amalgamation of the Court and feudal nobility into one class, to which the new name of kwazoku (nobles) was given. The abolition of feudalism, moreover, entailed the disappearance of the samurai, the fighting men of the clans, and the rearrangement of existing classes. Under the feudal system there had been, outside of the nobility, four classes—the two-sworded men, or samurai, the farmers, the artizans and the merchants, or tradesmen. The new arrangement now introduced comprised only two classes—the gentry (shizoku), who replaced the samurai, and the common people (heimin). What also had formed a pariah class by itself, consisting of social outcasts known as éta and hinin, was abolished, its members being merged into the class of heimin. A further innovation was introduced in the shape of a proclamation permitting members of the former military class to discontinue the practice of wearing their swords, which had been a strict feudal rule.

The Decree abolishing the clans was anticipated in one or two feudal territories, the authorities concerned acting on the previous announcement of the Imperial sanction having been given to the proposal of the Memorialists, and amalgamating, of their own accord, the samurai with the rest of the population. The example was not generally followed, but ever since the issue of that announcement memorials and petitions had been flowing in from the military class in many districts asking for early effect to be given to the measure in contemplation, and for permission to lay aside their swords and take up agricultural occupations. Nor was there wanting the stimulus in the same direction supplied by inspired writers in the Press that was just coming into existence under official auspices. One of these observed that what the nation needed was an Imperial army and uniformity in land tenure, taxation, currency, education and penal laws—aspirations all destined to be fulfilled in the near future. The general feeling thus shown doubtless influenced the Government in taking the final step.

Shortly before the issue of the Decree there occurred a reconstruction of the Ministry, strengthening the position of the leaders of the party of reform, and that of the clans they represented, while the influence of the aristocratic element in the Government was diminished. In the reconstituted Cabinet, as we may now call it, Prince Sanjō remained Prime Minister, Prince Iwakura became Minister for Foreign Affairs, replacing a Court noble, while four prominent clansmen whom the Restoration had, as we have seen, brought to the front, took office as Councillors of State. These four were Saigō, Kido, Itagaki and Ōkuma.

To this date also belongs a troublesome incident which called for the intervention of the foreign representatives. The Japanese authorities, fearing a recurrence of the disturbances connected with the Christian propaganda of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, had always regarded with misgiving the treaty clause permitting the erection of Christian places of worship at the open ports. This apprehension was increased by the renewal of missionary effort when the country was reopened to foreign trade and intercourse. As a precautionary measure, the old official notices denouncing Christianity as a pernicious doctrine had continued to be displayed in all parts of the country, and at Nagasaki, which had at one time been a Christian centre, the population had been forced annually to trample upon emblems of the proscribed faith. On the erection in 1865 of a Roman Catholic Church at that place, which had in the meantime become an open port, people from the neighbourhood attended it in such numbers as to attract the attention of the authorities. It was then discovered that Christian doctrines had not been completely stamped out there, as had been the case elsewhere. The offending individuals were consequently ordered to be banished to remote districts, the foreign representatives being with difficulty successful in obtaining a temporary suspension of the orders. After the Restoration the official notices proscribing the Christian religion were, with the substitution of the Mikado’s authority for that of the Shōgun, deliberately renewed, and in 1870 the orders for the banishment of the offenders were carried out in spite of repeated remonstrances on the part of the foreign representatives. Otherwise, however, judged by the standard of those days, the treatment to which the exiles were subjected appears on the whole to have been free from excessive cruelty. It was not till the year 1873 that the practice of Christianity ceased to be forbidden. The notices proscribing the Christian religion were then withdrawn, and the banished persons were restored to their homes. In curious contrast to this recrudescence of persecution was the suggestion, made in a pamphlet about the same time, that Christianity should be officially recognized, a suggestion which is said to have been carried still further some years later, when the attraction for Western civilization was at its height, by a prominent member of the Ministry.

To return to the subject of feudalism, from which this digression in the interests of chronological order has led us away, its abolition was the first, as it was also the most radical, of the reforms on which the new Government embarked. It struck at the root of old-established things and cleared the way for all future progress. It is a pity that Marquis Ōkuma in his Fifty Years of New Japan has dismissed the subject in a few lines. Himself one of the chief actors in the scene, no one was better qualified to deal with it. Foreign writers less well equipped for the task have given it more attention. Some of these have taken the superficial view, founded on the signatures appended to the Memorials, that the voluntary surrender of fiefs was due to the initiative of the feudal nobles themselves, and have praised their action for what they regarded as its exalted patriotism and unique self-sacrifice. This view is quite erroneous. Occasion has already been taken to point out how the surroundings in which the daimiōs of those days were brought up had the effect of depriving them of all character and initiative, and how they, like the Mikado and Shōgun, were mere puppets in the hands of others, unfitted for responsibility of any kind, unaccustomed to the direction of affairs. Lest it be thought that the picture has been overdrawn, it may be well to quote the words of a Japanese writer of the time. They occur in an anonymous pamphlet published in 1869, extracts from which are given by Sir Francis Adams in his History of Japan.