I. The Revival of Learning. The last half of the eighteenth and the first half of the present century witnessed in Japan an unusual intellectual activity. The long peace and prosperity of the country under the rule of the Tokugawa dynasties had fostered in every way the growth of literature and art. The Shoguns, from policy or from taste, either to find a harmless vent for the restless spirit of the Samura or from pure love of learning, have been constant patrons of literature. The Daimios, too, as a means of spending their leisure hours when they were not out hawking or revelling with their mistresses, gave no inattentive ear to the readings and lectures of learned men. Each Daimioate took pride in the number and fame of her own learned sons. Thus throughout the country eminent scholars arose. With them a new era of literature dawned upon the land. The new literature changed its tone. Instead of the servility, faint suggestiveness, and restrained politeness characteristic of the literature from the Gen-hei period to the first half of the Tokugawa period, that of the Revival Era began to wear a bolder and freer aspect. History came to be recorded with more truthfulness and boldness than ever before.
But as the ancient histories were studied and the old constitution was brought into light, the real nature of the Shogunate began to reveal itself. To the eyes of the historians it became clear that the Shogunate was nothing but a military usurpation, sustained by fraud and corruption; that the Emperor, who was at that time, in plain words, imprisoned at the court of Kioto, was the real source of power and honor. "If this be the case, what ought we do?" was the natural question of these loyal subjects of the Emperor. The natural conclusion followed: the military usurper must be overthrown and the rightful ruler recognized. This was the sum and substance of the political programme of the Imperialists. The first sound of the trumpet against the Shogunate rose from the learned hall of the Prince of Mito, Komon. He, with the assistance of a host of scholars, finished his great work, the Dai Nihon Shi, or History of Japan, in 1715. It was not printed till 1851, but was copied from hand to hand by eager students, like the Bible by the medieval monks, or the works of Plato and Aristotle by the Humanists. The Dai Nihon Shi soon became a classic, and had such an influence in restoring the power of the Emperor that Mr. Ernest Satow justly calls its composer "the real author of the movement which culminated in the revolution of 1868." The voice of the Prince of Mito was soon caught up by the more celebrated scholar Rai Sanyo (1780-1833). A poet, an historian, and a zealous patriot, Rai Sanyo was the Arndt of Japan. He outlined in his Nihon Guai Shi the rise and fall of the Minister of State and the Shoguns, and with satire, invective, and the enthusiasm of a patriot, urged the unlawfulness of the usurpation of the imperial power by these mayors of the palace. In his Sei-Ki, or political history of Japan, he traced the history of the imperial family, and mourned with characteristic pathos the decadence of the imperial power. The labors of these historians and scholars bore in time abundant fruit. Some of their disciples became men of will and action: Sakuma Shozan, Yoshida Toraziro, Gesho, Yokoi Heishiro, and later Saigo, Okubo, Kido, and hosts of others, who ultimately realized the dreams of their masters. Out of the literary seed which scholars like Rai Sanyo spread broadcast over the country thus grew hands of iron and hearts of steel. This process shows how closely related are history and politics, and affords another illustration of the significance of the epigrammatic expression of Professor Freeman: "History is past politics, and politics present history."
II. Another tributary stream which helped to swell the tide flowing toward the Emperor was the revival of Shintoism. The revival of learning is sure to be followed by the revival of religion. This is shown in the history of the Reformation in Europe, which was preceded by the revival of learning. Since the expulsion of Christianity from Japan in the sixteenth century, which was effected more from political than religious motives, laissez-faire was the steadfast policy of the Japanese rulers toward religious matters. The founder of the Tokugawa dynasty had laid down in his "Legacy" the policy to be pursued by his descendants. "Now any one of the people," says Iyeyasu, "can adhere to which (religion) he pleases (except the Christian); and there must be no wrangling among sects to the disturbance of the peace of the Empire." Thus while the people in the West, who worshipped the Prince of Peace, in his abused name were cutting each other's throat, destroying each other's property, torturing and proselyting by rack and flames, the islanders on the West Pacific coast were enjoying complete religious toleration. Three religions—Shintoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism—lived together in peace. In such a state of unrestricted competition among various religions, the universal law of the survival of the fittest acts freely. Buddhism was the fittest and became the predominant religion. Shintoism was the weakest and sank into helpless desuetude. But with the revival of learning, as Kojiki and other ancient literature were studied with assiduity, Shintoism began to revive. Its cause found worthy defenders in Motoori and Hirata. They are among the greatest Shintoists Japan has ever seen.
Now, according to Shintoism, Japan is a holy land. It was made by the gods, whose lineal descendant is the Emperor. Hence he must be revered and worshipped as a god. This is the substance of Shintoism. The political bearing of such a doctrine upon the then existing status of the country is apparent. The Emperor, who is a god, the fountain of all virtue, honor, and authority, is now a prisoner at the court of Kioto, under the iron hand of the Tokugawa Shoguns. This state of impiety and irreverence can never be tolerated by the devout Shintoists. The Shogun must be dethroned and the Emperor raised to power. Here the line of arguments of the Shintoists meets with that of the scholars we have noted above. Thus both scholars and Shintoists have converted themselves into politicians who have at heart the restoration of the Emperor.
III. Another cause which led to the overthrow of the Shogunate was the jealousy and cupidity of the Southern Daimios. Notably among them were the Daimios of Satsuma, Choshiu, Tosa, and Hizen. Their ancestors "had of old held equal rank and power with Iyeyasu, until the fortunes of war turned against them. They had been overcome by force, or had sullenly surrendered in face of overwhelming odds. Their adherence to the Tokugawas was but nominal, and only the strong pressure of superior power was able to wring from them a haughty semblance of obedience. They chafed perpetually under the rule of one who was in reality a vassal like themselves."[1] They now saw in the rising tide of public sentiment against the Tokugawa Shogunate a rare opportunity of accomplishing their cherished aim. They lent their arms and money for the support of the patriots in carrying out their plan. Satsuma and Choshiu became the rendezvous of eminent scholars and zealous patriots. And in the council-halls of Satsuma and Choshiu were hatched the plots which were soon to overthrow the effete Shogunate.
Thus everything was ready for the revolution of 1868 before Perry came. We saw the Shogun, under the bombastic title of Tycoon, in spite of the remonstrance of the Emperor and his court, conclude a treaty with Perry at Kanagawa in 1854. Here at last was found a pretext for the Imperialists to raise arms against the Shogun. The Shogun or his ministers had no right to make treaties with foreigners. Such an act was, in the eyes of the patriots, heinous treason. The cry of "Destroy the Shogunate and raise the Emperor to his proper throne!" rang from one end of the empire to the other. The constant disturbance of the country, the difficulty of foreign intercourse, the sense of necessity of a single and undoubted authority over the land, and the outcry of the Samurai thus raised against the Shogun, finally led to his resignation on November 19, 1867. His letter of resignation, in the form of a manifesto to the Daimios, runs thus:
"A retrospect of the various changes through which the empire has passed shows us that after the decadence of the monarchical authority, power passed into the hands of the Minister of State; that by the wars of 1156 to 1159 the governmental power came into the hands of the military class. My ancestor received greater marks of confidence than any before him, and his descendants have succeeded him for more than two hundred years. Though I perform the same duties, the objects of government and the penal laws have not been attained, and it is with feelings of greatest humiliation that I find myself obliged to ackowledge my own want of virtue as the cause of the present state of things. Moreover, our intercourse with foreign powers becomes daily more extensive, and our foreign policy cannot be pursued unless directed by the whole power of the country.
"If, therefore, the old régime be changed and the governmental authority be restored to the imperial court, if the councils of the whole empire be collected and the wise decisions received, and if we unite with all our heart and with all our strength to protect and maintain the empire, it will be able to range itself with the nations of the earth. This comprises our whole duty towards our country.
"However, if you (the Daimios) have any particular ideas on the subject, you may state them without reserve."[2]
The resignation of the Shogun was accepted by the Emperor by the following imperial order, issued on the 10th day of the 12th month: "It has pleased the Emperor to dismiss the present Shogun, at his request, from the office of Shogun."