MAKERS OF JAPAN

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY THE TENNŌ OF JAPAN

MAKERS OF JAPAN

BY
J. MORRIS
MEMBER OF THE JAPAN SOCIETY; AUTHOR OF “WHAT WILL JAPAN DO?”
“ADVANCE, JAPAN!” “JAPAN AND ITS TRADE,” ETC. ETC.

WITH TWENTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON
METHUEN & CO.

CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.

1906

PREFACE

Modern Japan dates from the advent on the coast of Idzu province of the American squadron under Commodore Perry in 1853. Prior to that time, however, more than one attempt, predestined to failure, had been made to bring about the abolition of the feudal system, the agitators, in nearly every case, paying the penalty of their boldness with their lives. Among the more famous of these heroes were Fujita Toko, Yoshida Shoin, and Sakuma Shozan,—patriots who shone during the first half of the nineteenth century. They were in advance of their age. They lived in the days of the Tokugawa Shogunate, when old ideas on the subject of foreign intercourse still were uppermost. It was dangerous to advocate, as these men did, a policy of complete reconstruction on an imperialistic basis, yet they had the courage of their opinions, and with might and main advocated recourse to Occidental arts and sciences for the express object of rendering their country strong to resist aggression in every form. Their memory is held by all their fellow-countrymen in the very highest respect, not more for their self-sacrifice than for the real benefits that are seen to have accrued to the people from their foresight. One lost his life in a terrible earthquake another was executed by order of the Sho-gun, and the third was stabbed to death by Ro-nins, or “Wave-men,” the turbulent spirits of an epoch of social and political unrest. All three are esteemed as martyrs in the cause of progress. And although the country was not reopened, after its voluntary seclusion of two centuries and a half, until the treaty with the United States which Perry negotiated became operative in 1854, many surreptitious efforts had been made to obtain a footing in the Japanese empire, between the time of the East India Company’s withdrawal in 1623 and the appearance of the “black ships” of the American squadron in Kurihama Bay. The Portuguese had found their way to the isles of Japan as early as 1542, and might have remained there indefinitely had they not aimed at the acquisition of political power, as well as at the spread of the Christian religion. Expulsion followed persecution, and the sins of the Portuguese were visited on all foreigners indiscriminately, access to the Land of the Rising Sun being from that date denied to all aliens alike, save a few Dutchmen who were permitted on somewhat humiliating conditions to remain at Nagasaki for purposes of trade. Will Adams, sailor and shipwright, of Limehouse, London, passed the last twenty years of his life at Yedo, and died on the 6th of May 1620, while still in the service of the Shogun Iyemitsu, and contemporarily with him there dwelt for a time at Hirado, a tiny island on the west coast of Kiu-shiu, between which and the mainland flow the “Spex Straits,” a certain Captain John Saris, founder of the East India Company’s depot there. These men were in reality the first to obtain a footing on Japanese soil as representatives of England. Adams died and was buried near Yokohama, and Saris returned to London, on the retirement of his Company, for the time being, from the Japanese trade.

There came also to the Japanese ports at various times travellers from Russia, including an embassy under M. Resanoff, whalers from the United States, and several British warships and merchantmen. The Eclipse of Boston, Mass., was at Nagasaki as early as 1807, and the British man-of-war Phaeton called at that port the following year. M. Golownin spent two years in captivity to the feudal lord of Matsumaye in Yeso, in 1811-1813, and the famous Dr Von Siebold was able to pass four years, from 1825 to 1829, in the Shogun’s capital of Yedo, or as it was then commonly spelt, Jeddo. The King William who reigned in Holland in 1844 contrived, it is said, to have his autograph letter presented in that year to the supposed ruler of Japan, in reality the Shogun, urging the opening of Japan to foreign intercourse. There was an American whaler in Yedo Bay in 1845, and two such vessels were wrecked soon afterwards on the Japanese coasts, their crews being well treated by the inhabitants. Five years before Commodore Perry landed at Uraga there had been some American vessels in Yedo Bay under Commodore Biddle, and a British ship, the Mariner, found her way thither in 1849. By such means more and more had come to be known of Japan and its people, though in a vague, disjointed fashion, among the dwellers in the Occident, despite the existence of Iyemitsu’s edict prohibiting travel. Still, the rule was very strictly enforced, and even those subjects of the Japanese Emperor who had chanced to be carried off to America in vessels by which they had been saved when shipwrecked in their own junks were not permitted to return to their own country until after its formal opening to commerce in 1854. Some who had thus involuntarily quitted their native land as children were scarcely able to speak their mother tongue on their return, though well acquainted with English, which they had acquired in the interval. Needless to say, they speedily recovered the use of Japanese as a language and became of immense service to their country as interpreters at a time when very few who knew English were to be met with there. Much more was known in those days of Dutch than of any other foreign tongue, as works in Dutch had been procured of the “Oranda-jin”—as the Hollanders were termed—then dwelling in Nagasaki, and had been most diligently studied, not less for the sake of learning the language than of absorbing the information on scientific matters which those works were fitted to convey.

Concurrently with the growth of a desire for the restoration of the true imperial rule there had been a revival of learning, and Confucianism, long in decay by reason of the greater attachment of the masses to the tenets of Buddhism, began again to take hold of the popular mind. Chinese literature had become once more the study of the educated classes, and a demand arose for everything introduced from China which was only equalled, perhaps, by that created a half-century later for things European. In proportion as Buddhism lost its hold of the people the ancient Shinto religion, which is based upon the veneration of ancestors, and is directly connected with the patriotic devotion of the subjects of the Ten-shi to the Imperial house, acquired fresh strength, to the complete overthrow of the Buddhistic faith and its disestablishment as a State religion. Under the Tokugawa regime it had attained to immense power and influence, but with the conviction gaining ground everywhere that the best interests of the country were to be served only by the assumption of the active duties of sovereignty by the real monarch instead of his delegate, the cult of Shinto triumphed and the Buddhistic religion, though by no means extinguished, took second place in the estimation of his Majesty’s loyal subjects. But this was not until nearly eighteen years had elapsed from the date of Perry’s arrival at Uraga, and in the interval the country underwent innumerable vicissitudes, the effects in reality of the sharp divergences of opinion which the proposal to throw open the country to foreign trade and intercourse created. There were two parties in the State—viz. the Jo-I or party of exclusion, and the Kai-koku or party of admission. Jo signifies expulsion,—to thrust from one,—and I means a barbarian. Kai-koku, on the other hand, was literally “to open the country,” and the distinction between the two parties was therefore most marked. Eventually the Jo-I party became the O-Sei or party of Imperial Government, in opposition to the Baku-fu, lit.: Military Curtain government, by which was meant the government of the Shogun. Naturally all those who were opposed from one cause or another to the prolongation of the prevailing system of government by the Shogun ranged themselves under the banner of the Jo-I, whether actually hostile to aliens or not, but when the cry for expulsion had served its purpose the promoters of the movement against the Bakufu were willing enough that it should be abolished, in favour of a term which more aptly expressed the real objects and desires of the party so constituted. It is a fact that many of Japan’s foremost statesmen were originally members of the Jo-I organisation, though it certainly is not from that to be inferred that they were at any period of their careers downright hostile to foreigners. The famous motto was adopted essentially as a matter of policy.

Anxieties were multiplied for the Baku-fu when an Englishman, who formed one of a party out riding on the highroad between Yokohama and Yedo, was cut down and killed by swordsmen belonging to the retinue of the Prince of Satsuma. That was in September 1862, and it brought matters to a climax. The British Charge d’Affaires, Colonel Neale, demanded instant reparation, but though indemnities were paid to Mr Richardson’s relatives, both by the Shogun’s government and the daimio of Satsuma, the actual assailants escaped justice.

A little while prior to this outrage the chiefs of Satsuma and Choshiu had united in a league for the “subjugation and expulsion of the Barbarians,” and as loyal retainers of their respective lords many of the men who have since been most prominent in the establishment of a new Japan were greatly embarrassed, for while their convictions led them to the adoption of every art and science that was likely to render Japan a strong nation, their strict obedience to their chieftain’s views would have entailed the complete abandonment of their hopes of profiting by the experience and knowledge of the Occident, since it would have involved a return to conditions which had prevailed in the years preceding 1853. Those Choshiu men in particular, who were known to favour the introduction of Western arts, went, therefore, with their lives in their hands, and one to whom reference will be made at a later stage, bears to this day the marks of cuts which he received in an attempt made upon his life by some of his fellow-clansmen, whose ideas on the subject of foreign intercourse were not identical with his own. I allude to Count Inouye, whose cheek was sliced by an antagonist’s weapon whilst he was stoutly defending himself against an altogether unexpected onslaught by a Yamaguchi samurai. The alliance of the two great Southern daimios for the repudiation of the treaties and the expulsion of aliens was not of a lasting character, nor was it intended, perhaps, that it should live long, for the object, no doubt, was to exert pressure on the Shogun rather than to wage war on the strangers. Nevertheless the attitude assumed towards foreigners, to be consistent, could not be other than one of hostility for the time being, and accordingly we find the lords of the two provinces named drifted soon afterwards into open defiance of the Occidentals’ naval power and the actions of Kagoshima and Shimonoseki, the first as a consequence of the daimio’s refusal to punish his people for the Richardson murder, and the second as the result of persistency in firing on passing European vessels, ensued, in 1863 and 1864. How far the feudatories named were indulging their own caprices in thus defying the Western powers, and how far they sought merely to carry out what they conceived to be their Emperor’s wishes, cannot now be known, but that they were amply warranted by Imperial orders in impeding the entry of aliens is proved by the Emperor Komei having sent a high official of the Court to Yedo with a letter to instruct the Shogun to expel all foreigners. This remarkable despatch conveyed the Emperor’s desire that the Shogun would forthwith proceed to Kioto to take counsel with the court nobles and thereupon despatch orders to the various clans, throughout the empire, to the effect that by dint of all their strength they should combine to thrust out the barbarians and restore tranquillity to the land. Though the Shogun did not go to Kioto just then, it was not through disobedience to his Imperial master’s commands, and it is probable that had not the trouble with the Satsuma procession occurred on the Tokaido, near Tsurumi village (where there is now a railway station), and had not Richardson’s life been forfeited, the Shogun would have felt himself obliged to take measures to enforce the Emperor’s order for the foreigners’ expulsion. That the Emperor Komei was very much in earnest about the matter is to be inferred from the fact that the official charged with the conveyance of the message to the Shogun was accompanied by the Prince of Satsuma, at the imperial desire, and it was when the Satsuma chieftain was returning to his own province after the execution of the Emperor’s instructions to escort his messenger to Yedo that the deplorable affair occurred at Tsurumi, and the Satsuma clan was plunged into direct antagonism with the subjects of foreign powers. The failure on the part of the Shogun to punish it, not from lack of inclination, but from military inability to perform the task, resulted in the bombardment of Kagoshima by the British squadron in the following summer. It deserves mention that, despite their avowed antipathy to the admission of foreigners to their country, the Satsuma clansmen were ready at that early date to avail themselves of Western appliances to the utmost, and on the principle that to retain her position among the nations Japan must adopt all the arts and sciences that would help her to become strong to hold her own, they had bought guns, and ships, of modern type, and proceeded to make the best use of both, as far as their limited experience could serve them, immediately that the British admiral entered the Bay of Kagoshima with his fleet. They did not wait for him to open fire: they took the initiative themselves, and with unquestionable courage and skill. Satsuma has, indeed, from the very beginning of the new regime been prominent in both the army and the navy, and though it must always be a matter of extreme difficulty to draw distinctions where the clansmen were without exception prompt to wield the sword on slight provocation in defence of their own or the national honour, the men of Satsuma ever bore the reputation under the old regime of being a warlike and indomitable race.

After 1863 their attitude towards the strangers speedily became less hostile, and they imported machinery for a cotton mill, bought more steamers, and in every way evinced a resolve to lose no further time in vain efforts to sweep back the tide that they saw was steadily and irresistibly advancing. On the contrary, they perceived that it would be to their advantage to float with it, for the clans that might be the first to arm themselves on the foreign model, and likewise most prompt to adapt themselves to changed circumstances, by copying the European methods of warfare, would be the first to profit by the military supremacy they could hardly fail to acquire over the others. Gradually the notion of expelling foreigners lost ground, so the way was paved for a better understanding with the nations of the Occident. And the trend of opinion in Satsuma was quickly seen to be communicating itself to Choshiu, where the feudal chieftain Mori, after his defeat at Shimonoseki by the combined fleet under Admiral Kuper, was willing to enter into peaceful relations with the subjects of other powers, and exhibited every disposition to be on terms of friendship for the future. It is recorded of the lord Mori that in 1864 he declared his readiness to admit foreigners to the ports in his barony of Choshiu, within a few months only of the actual engagement between his forts and the combined fleet, and the daimio’s attitude may have been modified by the representations of Ito and Inouye, who although they failed to impress on him the futility of opposing the allied squadrons may nevertheless have in some degree led their chieftain to recognise the benefits that would accrue to a speedy adoption of modern weapons and the arts of the Occident, as conferring exceptional strength on those who might be content to sink their prejudices and avail themselves of the improved appliances which lay ready to their hands. At all events it seems to be fair to assume that the supremacy of the Satsuma and Choshiu clans in the councils of the state which in later years became so noticeable as to excite the jealousy of others had its origin in the willingness evinced by the daimios of those clans to listen to the recommendations of patriotic samurai who owned allegiance to them. What is true of Satsuma and Choshiu is of course equally true of the other clans prominent in the struggle for the revival of imperial rule, namely Hizen and Tosa. In the course of this work it will be fitting that I should invite attention to the individual share which each of those who are classed as Makers of Japan actually took in the most remarkable undertaking of recent years, though in the earlier phases of the Restoration struggle they were merely units of the clans to which most of them belonged. And fame rests with those Southern clans since it was by their combined action and unity of purpose that the Emperor Mutsuhito was invested, almost from the first, with that direct sovereign government of his subjects which for so many centuries had been denied to his predecessors on the throne, and which is now so conspicuously predominant in the relations that exist in Japan between the monarch and his dutiful and contented people.

With the assent of the Emperor Komei in 1865 to the Treaties made by the Shogun began brighter days for Japan, and if it must be owned that the benefits were at first unrecognised, and that considerable opposition was in some quarters manifested to the innovations proposed, matters had advanced so far, prior to the accession to the throne of the present sovereign, that there was hope of the total abolition of feudalism, and the inauguration of an essentially new regime. The world has never ceased to marvel at the ease with which this stupendous alteration was effected. In other lands when a revolution has been brought about it usually has been only at a vast cost in human life. True, the northern and southern clans fought in Japan, but the strife was not of long duration, nor was it of a particularly sanguinary character in comparison with the terrible slaughter that has often accompanied revolution elsewhere. It left behind it no traces of animus to disturb the harmony of the future among the subjects of the Japanese Emperor. That these magnificent results were attained, and that Japan has never one inch receded from the position that she took up nearly forty years ago, are facts that may in a large degree be ascribed to the prudence, genius, and statesmanlike capacity of many of those pioneers in thought and action of whose careers these pages are intended to form a brief, and necessarily most imperfect, record.

In the preparation of this volume my object has been to convey

(a) A general impression of Japan and her people;

(b) The workings of reform, as exemplified in the lives of some of her patriots.

In the several chapters devoted to the history of these Makers of Japan I have sought to explain the part which each played in the introduction of reforms, and to portray the situation in Japan now that those measures for which they were responsible may be said to have taken full effect. In brief, the aim has been to supply History through the medium of Biography.

I cannot do better, perhaps, than quote a sentence or two which recently fell from the lips of one of Japan’s greatest statesmen, Count Okuma, and whose career is briefly recorded in the following pages:—

“Now that peace has crowned the tremendous efforts which Japan made in the War with Russia the effect upon herself will be that she will be able to make still greater progress in the paths of civilisation, and the true spirit of the Japanese nation will have more room to display itself. Japan has never been an advocate of war, and will never draw her sword from its sheath unless compelled to do so by the pressure of foreign powers. She fought to secure peace, not for the sake of making war, and was only too glad to lay down her weapons as soon as peace was obtainable, and to devote herself to the promotion of interests of a nobler kind. The eminence of Japan is ascribable to no mere mushroom growth; it has its roots in the past, and her progress is to be explained by natural causes which anyone may comprehend who cares to study her history attentively. The late war was not one of race against race, or of religion against religion, and the victory of Japan points to the ultimate blending into one harmonious whole of the ancient and modern civilisations of East and West.”

My thanks are due to His Excellency Viscount Hayashi and the members of the Japanese Embassy in London, by all of whom the most kindly interest has been taken in my work, and from whom I have received most valuable aid in its preparation. Also to Baron Suyematsu, who assisted me greatly with his personal reminiscences and who revised the chapter on Marquis Ito, his father-in-law. I have also to record my indebtedness to the Editor and Mr S. Imai of the Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, from whom I received material help in regard to the history of those earlier Makers of Japan who flourished in the first half of the Nineteenth Century. I have availed myself of every opportunity of consulting the writings of Messrs Black and Rein, and the works on Japan and its affairs by Count Matsukata, Sir R. Alcock, Sir E. Reed, Sir Robert K. Douglas, Messrs Hearn, Clement, and many others, and I have taken my figures for the most part from Japanese official publications. When in 1895 I wrote “Advance, Japan!” I ventured to predict the rise of Japanese influence in China and that Japan would be “the lever to set the Chinese mass in motion” though her efforts would “tend towards the consolidation of the Chinese Empire rather than to its disintegration.” That work was translated in 1904 into Russ avowedly in order that the Tsar’s people might learn something of the nation they were fighting. In 1898 I had written “What will Japan do?” and had based the story on a firm conviction that she would defeat Russia when the inevitable contest should occur, the date I ventured to assign for the outbreak of hostilities being, as it turned out, three years too soon. That little volume was at once translated into Japanese. If in the attempt that I have now made to assign to the chief personages their due positions in respect of their nation’s stirring history, I have in the smallest degree succeeded in conveying useful information concerning our allies and their country to the people of the Occident, I shall not have laboured in vain, and in submitting my work in all humility—conscious of its many defects and shortcomings—to the judgment of the public, my one hope is that it may be of some slight service to those who may honour me by perusing its pages.

J. M.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

MAKERS OF JAPAN

I
HIS MAJESTY THE EMPEROR OF JAPAN

At the head of the list of Makers of Modern Japan stands by right the name of the illustrious ruler, not merely in virtue of his imperial position, but of the supreme efforts which throughout his reign of thirty-eight years to the present time he has made to raise the status of his country among nations and to confer upon his subjects the blessings of enlightened government. His Majesty Mutsuhito, son of the Emperor Komei, succeeded to the throne of Japan in February 1867, when he was fourteen years and three months old, was crowned on the 13th October 1868, married the Princess Haruko on the 9th February 1869, and has issue a son (the Crown Prince Yoshi-hito) and four daughters, the Princesses Tsune, Kane, Fumi, and Yasu.

The Crown Prince was born on the 31st August 1879, and was installed in this dignity on the Emperor’s birthday, 3rd November 1889, came of age and took his seat in the Upper House, in 1897, married on the 10th of May 1900 the Princess Sadako, daughter of Prince Kujo, and has issue two sons.

The personal name of the sovereign is rarely written or spoken in Japan, it being regarded almost as a discourtesy to allude to the ruler as other than the Ten-shi, the son of the heavens, or more elegantly as the Tenno, the heaven-sent Emperor. The theory of the supernatural origin of the imperial dynasty ceased to have weight with the educated classes long ago, but that in no way lessens the respect and affection which his subjects have for their sovereign. It was at his express command that they divested themselves of every vestige of superstition concerning his traditional semi-divine descent, and when they ascribe to his personal virtues their success in war, as they commonly do, it is but evidence of their conviction that it is an immeasurable benefit to themselves, and ensures success in their undertakings, to have as their monarch one who is in every sense a man to be esteemed for his high sense of honour, his love of truth and justice, and his innate appreciation of the duties devolving upon him as having inherited the proud title of “an Emperor who owns allegiance only to heaven.” There were, in the years which have gone by, some Emperors who sadly failed to realise the necessity of setting a good example to their subjects, in Japan as elsewhere, but the memory of those monarchs is not revered. The present ruler has won throughout his reign the love of his people for the purity of his life, the untiring attention which he bestows on the affairs of his country, the supreme magnanimity he has ever displayed in his treatment of those who by the force of circumstances have been placed in a position of hostility, not to his rule, for that is impossible in Japan, but to his Cabinet, and above all for the readiness that he has invariably evinced in time of national anxiety to enter into his people’s feelings and to subordinate his personal comfort to his paramount duties as an active sovereign. Had it still been the custom for monarchs to head their forces in the field his Majesty Mutsuhito, as all his loyal and dutiful subjects know, would have mounted his charger and led his hosts to battle with as great a zest as did ever one of his predecessors on the throne in the fighting days of old. That happiness being denied him, he sat at his desk in his headquarters at Hiroshima for sixteen hours a day while his troops, for eight months, waged war a decade ago with the Chinese in Manchuria and Shantung.

It may be useful here to explain that the title of Mikado by which his Majesty is perhaps best known to Europeans, although undeniably an appellation of great antiquity and in no degree derogatory, is in little use in Japan itself. Literally it signifies the “honourable gateway” or “entrance,” and though in ancient times the designation, when applied to a ruler who dispensed justice from a seat at the entrance to his pavilion, may have been more or less an appropriate title, it may be also that as years went by the preference of the people for some term that should more definitely convey the idea of the sovereign’s supremely exalted origin, according to then popular belief, led to the gradual adoption, in official documents, of the title of Tenno, and in common conversation of that of Ten-shi, terms which are in general use at the present day. The perpetuation of the term Mikado among foreigners, though almost obsolete among the inhabitants of the Ten-shi’s realms, is on a par with the retention of the name “Japan” as that of the country itself, it being a survival of the “Jipangu” of Marco Polo, who thus alluded to it in writing an account of his travels. Marco Polo’s book was prepared in 1299 at Genoa, and Jipangu was doubtless the traveller’s rendering of the Ji-pên-kwoh of the Chinese, the name by which Japan is known to that nation to-day, and by which Marco Polo heard the island Empire spoken of some 600 years ago. To the Ten-shi’s subjects their land is Ni-hon-koku, or Sun-origin Land, a term that is fairly translated, perhaps, as the Land of Sunrise. Ji-pên-kwoh, in Chinese, has precisely the same meaning, and the three ideographs employed are identical in Chinese and Japanese, the difference being one of pronunciation only. Though the dwellers in Nihon know as a rule by this time what is meant by Japan they always speak of their land as Nihon or Nipon, and though they know to whom strangers allude as the Mikado, they refer to his Majesty as the Ten-shi or Tenno. Nevertheless, the terms in use abroad, though they have less to recommend them on the score of accuracy, either for country or ruler, bid fair to survive for generations.

In Japan there are four Imperial families in which are vested the rights of succession to the throne in case of the failure of the direct line of the sovereign. These families are the Arisugawa, Katsura, Fushimi, and Kanin. The throne has ten times been occupied by a woman, but it was ever an inflexible rule that she should choose a prince-consort from among these four Shinnō, or Imperial families, and the relationship of these families to the throne well illustrates the principle of adoption which prevails throughout Japan in all classes, from the Imperial circle down to the home of the humblest peasant. Adoption there confers all the rights, privileges, and obligations of blood relationship, and it was on this basis that the late Prince Taruhito, who played so important a part in the making of Modern Japan, and is often referred to elsewhere in this volume, came to occupy the position of uncle to the reigning monarch. Prince Taruhito, who for the first three decades of the Meiji era was the Commander-in-chief of the Japanese army, and died towards the close of the Chino-Japanese war of 1894-5, was adopted as a son by the Emperor Ninko, who reigned from 1817 to 1846 (grandfather to the present Emperor), and he thus became a brother of the Emperor Komei, who was the real son of Ninko. The Emperor Komei sat on the throne from 1846 to January 1867, and was succeeded by his only son the reigning Sovereign Mutsuhito. The late Prince Arisugawa was therefore uncle by adoption only of the present Emperor, and curiously enough that is in one sense the relationship which actually exists between the present Prince Arisugawa, who recently visited our shores, and the present Emperor, for the prince is the younger brother by birth of the late Prince Taruhito, who, having no children of his own, adopted his brother as his son and heir. Prince Taruhito having adopted his brother as his son, however, the brother then became the reigning monarch’s cousin, and, as adoption confers absolute rights, it is in the light of cousinship that we must regard the personal relation of Prince Takehito Arisugawa to the occupant of the throne. In reality it is difficult to institute anything like a fair comparison, for in Europe our family relationships do not precisely correspond to those that exist in the Japanese Empire, and any effort at explanation of the actual status attained by the system of adoption, as it prevails there, must fail to convey an accurate idea of the true position. Still it will now be understood, as adoption brings with it full privileges, how Prince Takehito, the prince who served as a midshipman in the British navy, and is generally known as Prince Arisugawa, was for some years the heir-presumptive to the Japanese throne. The Emperor Ninko having left two sons,—though one was his son by adoption,—recourse would have been had to the line of the adopted son had the present occupant of the throne remained without a direct heir. The Crown Prince was not born until 1879, but the direct succession is now, it would seem, amply secured, as he has sons of his own.

The equivalent of “his Majesty” in Japanese is “Hei-ka,” so that the full expression employed in speaking of the monarch is Tenno Hei-ka, but there are additional titles not in general use, as is the case not only in Japan and neighbouring countries but among most European as well as Asiatic States. The same is true of the land over which the Ten-shi rules, for it has borne fully as many names as have at various periods the British Isles, and it was remarked at the time that the Albion and the Shikishima battleships were being built side by side at Blackwall that these vessels carried the ancient names of the countries to which they belonged, for Shikishima is a poetical title,—implying Isles of Prosperity,—for Japan, and is employed there in very much the same way as Albion is with us.

The Emperor of Japan has no family name, for, apart from the theory of his semi-divine descent, his house dates back to a period in the world’s history when the dwellers on this globe were fewer in number, and surnames had not been brought into use in the Orient. Thus it has a claim to respect in virtue of the unparalleled duration of the dynasty such as is possessed by no other reigning family in the world. His subjects are justly proud of the fact, and likewise of the circumstance that he rules over a people who have remained unconquered through the ages, in assured tenure of the land bequeathed to them by their ancestors.

The profound respect, verging upon adoration, paid in Japan to the occupant of the Throne is ascribable to an absolute conviction, pervading the minds of all classes of his Majesty’s subjects, that their ruler is a monarch who personally studies the welfare, the happiness, and real comfort, of his people. The feeling that the sovereign takes an almost paternal interest in the well-being of those whom he governs is so universal in Japan as practically to constitute a feature of Japanese national life. It is shared by all, rich and poor, young and old, the noble and the lowly. In theory the throne is above criticism. In the present era it is so in practice. In the long history of the Land of the Rising Sun, there have been instances in which the sovereigns have conspicuously fallen short of the standard of perfection, but in Japanese eyes the failure to attain the ideal has been due not to the errors of the individual so much as to his environment. There seems to be no room in the Japanese mind for the conception of a ruler who has not the amelioration of the lot of his loyal subjects always at heart, and if they were to be confronted with direct proof to the contrary they would cling to the belief that their sovereign must have been the victim of circumstances. The people’s attachment to the throne never wanes, or can wane, but if it happens that he who occupies that exalted position is a sovereign for whom they are able to develop an intense affection, owing to his personal characteristics, so much closer must the bonds be drawn, so immeasurably in advance of all previous experience will be the enthusiasm evinced for his cause by those who may be privileged to serve him afloat or ashore.

The present Emperor has on more than one occasion, indeed, expressed the wish that his subjects would cease to attribute to his family a supernatural origin, and although it was inevitable that at the period of his accession he should be regarded as Pope as well as Emperor, in virtue of the connection that had from time immemorial existed between the throne and the Shinto faith, insomuch that Shintoism was to all intents and purposes the State religion of Japan, he took the earliest possible opportunity of investing his cousin, then the Uyeno-no-miya, or High Priest of Uyeno temples, with the spiritual functions appertaining to the Sovereign’s office, and announcing his own intention of ruling Japan purely as a secular monarch. Under the title of Kita Shirakawa-no-miya this prince two years later left the temples and entered the newly raised army, with the rank of major. General Kita Shirakawa-no-miya died some years ago, but his brother Higashi Fushimi-no-miya, who likewise was a Shinto priest at the outset of his career, was entrusted with the imperial brocade banner and ordered to chastise the rebels in the war of the Restoration in 1868, and he subsequently distinguished himself as a military officer in many hard-fought fields. He some years ago visited London as the representative of the Ten-shi and was present at St Paul’s on the day that Queen Victoria gave thanks for the recovery from a severe illness of the Prince of Wales, our present King Edward VII. With the resignation by the prince Kita Shirakawa-no-miya of his priestly office the direct relationship of the imperial family to Shintoism ceased, though by the deification of former rulers of the country, and the retention for untold years of the position of head of the church by the reigning sovereign, the union had seemed to be indissoluble. Shinto is now only a cult, but it embodies the principle on which the moral teaching of the Japanese substantially is based, and it still has for its chief function the performance of rites in memory of the imperial ancestors. Shintoism has neither creed nor dogma,—it inculcates patriotism and loyalty. It enjoins upon all the virtue of courage, the cultivation of the strictest sense of honour, and the universal practice of courtesy and consideration. The essence of Shinto (lit.: “the way of the gods”) is the spirit of filial piety, and, to quote the late Lafcadio Hearn, it implies the “zest of duty, the readiness to surrender life for a principle. It is religion, but religion transmuted into ethical instinct. It is the whole emotional life of the race,—the Soul of Japan.” In its best and purest form, according to the highest authorities, it consisted of ancestor-worship combined with reverence for the forces of nature. There was the natural respect for the memory of ancestors, national or individual, added to the awe inspired by the phenomena of nature, in the tempest and the earthquake, the lightning’s flash and the thunder’s crash. The beneficent influence of the summer sun on the ripening corn led those who lived by agriculture to value the blessing as the gift of a goddess, and they revered her as “Ama-no-terasu,” the splendour of the skies, and regarded her as the special ancestress of their adored ruler. Thus, as one authority has remarked, to those Japanese whose first idea of duty is loyalty to the Emperor,—and this means the nation at large,—Shinto becomes a system of patriotism exalted to the rank of a religion. The common people still regard it in that light, and continue to worship and pray at its temples, though officially it was secularised six years ago and placed under the control of a Bureau of Shrines, as distinct from the Bureau of Religions, which takes cognisance of matters affecting the Buddhist and Christian faiths. In 1899 the officials of the Isé shrines, which are the oldest in the Empire, and in which are preserved the three sacred emblems of the monarchy,—the mirror, sword, and jewel of antiquity,—symbolical of regal power, and looked upon as coeval with the dynasty itself,—took measures to define their position as heads of a secular organisation. They then described Shintoism as “a mechanism for keeping generations in touch with generations, and preserving the continuity of the nation’s veneration for its ancestors.” But throughout the length and breadth of the land the sight of a Shinto shrine will continue to prompt the passer-by to pause for a moment in his journey, to fold his hands in silent prayer, to cast a coin into the capacious moneybox, and to bow the head in submission to a higher will, no matter whether the rites of Shinto worship be for the future viewed in the light of a religion or only as a cult.

THE GEKU SHRINE AT ISÉ

Marco Polo’s references to “Jipangu,” as we have seen, were not based on his personal observations but on information derived from the Chinese, and though he travelled widely in China, accompanied by his brother, he never set foot on Japanese soil. That an island empire existed to the east of them, however, had been known to the Chinese for centuries, and Kublai Khan had unsuccessfully sought to bring it into subjection only a short time prior to the Polos’ arrival at his Court in 1275. It is probable that Christopher Columbus, when setting sail from Palos in 1492, hoped to reach “Jipangu,” of which he had doubtless heard through the publicity given to Marco Polo’s travels, by sailing westward, and it is possible that Columbus imagined that he had found his way to some part of an Eastern continent when he discovered America. The first traveller to actually land in Japan was Fernao Mendes Pinto, in 1542, seven years before the Jesuit Missionary Francisco Xavier arrived there. Pinto was favourably received in Bungo, a province of Kiushiu, the large island in the south-west of Japan, and arrangements were made for a vessel to visit Bungo with foreign produce, every other year. Pinto belonged to Coimbra, in Portugal, and thus it is to that power that is due the honour of its subjects having been the first to visit Japanese shores. Pinto’s ship was the only survivor of three which started from Lisbon on a voyage of adventure, and it was from her crew that the Japanese first acquired a knowledge of the use of firearms. The Bungo province gives its name to the narrow channel that here divides the islands of Kiushiu and Shikoku, which is exceptionally rich in historical associations, for if tradition be in this instance correct it was in one of its many little bays that the vessel conveying the ancestor of the Ten-shi, the first Emperor Jimmu Tenno, dropped anchor over 2500 years ago. Where Jimmu Tenno came from remains an absolute mystery, but it seems to be fairly established that he brought with him a mighty host, armed for conquest, and that he had early encounters with the tribes then inhabiting the south and west of Hondo, the main island. One of these was the Yamato tribe, which probably at that remote period dwelt in what is now Iwami, and its occupancy of the coast facing the peninsula of Korea, might be taken to imply that its people originally crossed the water from that kingdom, though it would not of necessity follow that the men of Yamato were identical in race with the dwellers in Korea at the present day. Fighting his way along the borders of the Inland Sea, the invading chieftain Jimmu Tenno ultimately reached the neighbourhood of what is now Kioto, and set up his capital in that region. It is not improbable that he brought with him many members of the Yamato tribe that he had subjugated, and this may account for the presence to this day in that part of Japan of numberless families possessing the characteristics in a marked degree of what is termed the Yamato race,—in other words, the elongated features and intellectual aspect as distinguished from the round chubby countenances of the majority of the men and women of the hei-min, or common stock, which forms so large a percentage of the entire population. The Yamato people may have emigrated in the first place from Manchuria, passing through Korea on their way to Japan, and though it may be condemned as fanciful the idea is perhaps not altogether groundless that in seeking to recover Manchuria in recent years from the grip of the Muscovite the Japanese may in reality have been striving, though few were aware of it, to deliver their own ancestral home from the presence of the Western intruder.

Jimmu Tenno began to reign as Emperor of Japan in 667 B.C., being then, it is supposed, about thirty-five years of age. Ancient Japanese tradition no doubt assigned to him a supernatural origin, and it is not difficult to trace in the unexpected advent on Japanese soil of the conqueror and his knights the germ of such a belief, supported as it probably was by martial prowess to a degree with which the then peaceful inhabitants of the Japanese chain of islands were totally unfamiliar. The peoples of the adjoining mainland of Asia—that is to say, the Chinese and the Manchus, as well as the Koreans—were appreciably in advance, it is to be presumed, in the arts of war, of any of the islanders of that age, and the invaders, as Jimmu Tenno and his men must have been, of Southern Japan, seven centuries before the Christian era, may have been regarded, and not altogether unnaturally, as beings descended from another planet. The Emperor Jimmu’s mother was a daughter, we are told, of the Sun-Goddess and the Sea-God (the Japanese Neptune) and in this myth may be traced a notable parallel to that concerning Romulus, the founder and first King of Rome, whose father was reputed to have been Mars, the god of war. Romulus founded Rome just eighty-six years before Jimmu became the founder of the dynasty of Japanese emperors, but there the parallel ends, for while Rome became a republic in less than 250 years, and underwent endless vicissitudes, a direct descendant of Jimmu occupies the imperial throne of Japan to-day.

In the older histories of Japan one may read how the Isles of Sunrise came into existence, and the legend is pretty enough to merit recognition in lands other than that to which it especially applies. When all was chaos on this globe, very far back in its nebulous stage of existence,—when the purer elements were ascending to form its skies, and the impure were gathering to form its earth,—the god Izanagi, with his august spouse the goddess Izanami beside him, was standing on the ethereal arch that spans the higher heavens, bearing in his hand the jewel-spear. Suddenly he thrust the weapon downward and with it probed the watery expanse beneath. As he drew it forth from Ocean, drops of foam and brine fell from its point, and in congealing formed an island. That island is called “Foam-land” (Awaji), in the centre of what is now Japan, and it bars the passage from the eastward to the picturesque “Inland Sea.” In it Izanagi and Izanami took up their abode, and gradually formed the other islands of the group. The Sun-goddess and the Sea-god were their children, and Ama-no-terasu, the “Splendour of the Skies,” was their grand-daughter, and became the parent of Jimmu Tenno, the first Emperor of Japan.

In the month of July 1853, there appeared to the astonished gaze of the inhabitants of the little fishing village of Uraga, situated on the Pacific coast within ten miles of the entrance to the Gulf of Tokio, a squadron of “black ships,” as the children termed the war vessels, the like of which they had never before seen or even heard of, and not long afterwards a boat was rowed ashore and a party of officers landed. For 230 years there had been no communication with strangers, the edicts of the Shogun Iyeyasu and his successors in the office having expressly prohibited all intercourse, for reasons which need not be given here, and the open defiance of the law of the land implied by the visit of the Americans filled the villagers with consternation. It was discovered that the unwelcome guests had brought a letter for the reigning monarch of Japan, and this the head man of the place agreed to forward to the proper officials. Commodore Perry happened to reach Japan at a time when the feudal lords of the various provinces had become jealous of the long-continued supremacy of the Tokugawa line of Shoguns, deputies of the crown who had for two and a half centuries practically ruled the country, in the name of the monarchs who had remained in seclusion at the palace of Kioto while their lieutenants governed the land from Yedo. The movement in favour of the re-establishment of the direct rule of the Emperor, in place of the semi-regal authority which had been exercised by the descendants of Iyeyasu, the first Shogun of the Tokugawa line, had begun to take definite shape some years previously, as we shall discover when we consider the history of Fujita, Sakuma, and Yoshida,—patriots who flourished earlier in the nineteenth century,—and the advent of the American visitors served but to accentuate the difficulties of the situation for the Yedo potentate, who was placed on the horns of a dilemma. If he yielded to the demands of the Americans that the nation which had so long been hidden from the rest of the world should emerge from its retirement and admit foreigners within its gates, he would incur the wrath of the ultra-Conservative party among the nobility of his own land. If he refused to comply with the American President Fillmore’s amiable suggestions, Japan might yet share the fate of China, and a forcible invasion of his Imperial master’s dominions, which would be equally disastrous to himself as being responsible for the exclusion of the “barbarians,” was almost certain to occur. The Shogun took the advice of those who advocated the making of treaties with men whom they were not then strong enough in Japan to effectually exclude, and the thin end of the wedge was inserted by the conclusion of the compact,—at first nothing more than a promise of friendship,—between Japan and the United States of America.

Under the provisions of the American treaty then negotiated by Perry, the United States acquired the right of establishing a legation at Shimoda. This is a small town at the tip of the Idzu promontory, which extends in a southern direction from the province of Sagami, and it is sixty-five miles as the crow flies south-west of Yokohama. Over a building which had previously been a Buddhist temple the Stars and Stripes were hoisted at Shimoda in September 1856, and America’s accredited envoy, Mr Townsend Harris, resided there for many months, being the first of the diplomatic representatives of foreign powers to dwell in the newly awakened Land of Sunrise, and the first to arrange a treaty of commerce. Under the arrangement made with Commodore Perry there were to be two seaports opened to the reception of American vessels, where they might obtain coal, provisions, wood, and water. One of these ports was Shimoda, the other was Hakodate, in the northern island of Yeso. The treaty provided for hospitable behaviour towards shipwrecked crews,—a matter in which, had the instincts of the Japanese nation at large been appreciated as they are to-day it would perhaps have been deemed superfluous to make any stipulations—and it also included certain regulations for conducting trade and for the residence of consuls or agents, at the places named. The stay of the American agent at Shimoda was not of long duration, for on the opening of the capital, as a place wherein the representatives of other powers could most fittingly dwell, Mr Harris removed to that city. But it should not be lost sight of that Shimoda was for a time the official headquarters of the American Legation in Japan, and a place where the population was more or less accustomed to see foreigners long before the rest of the country,—save the trading ports of Yokohama, Kobé, Nagasaki, and three other places on the coast opened later—was available to strangers. The British treaty, made the same year by Admiral Stirling, was on similar lines. It was not until the Earl of Elgin concluded the treaty of 1858 that powers were obtained for the residence of the foreign ministers in Yedo, though it had been agreed that a third port,—that of Nagasaki,—should be opened to trade. The Elgin treaty in addition provided for the establishment of open ports at Kanagawa, Niigata, and Hiogo. But Kanagawa being a town situated on the highroad along which in those days it was usual for the feudal lords and their immense retinues to travel, and the feeling in many quarters being decidedly inimical to foreigners, it was deemed inexpedient to make it a focus of animosity due to the strangers’ settlement therein for purposes of trade whilst it might remain the recognised resting-place for imperial and other processions making the journey to and from Kioto and Yedo. Accordingly it was agreed that the little fishing village of Yokohama, lit.: “the beach across the way,” on the other side of the bay of Kanagawa, which is itself a mere indentation of the coastline of the Gulf of Tokio, should become the actual place of residence of the foreign community. From this small beginning in 1859 the port speedily grew to be the centre of a vast and profitable trade, and its population now numbers 194,000, of whom 2100 are foreigners exclusive of Chinese. It is claimed for Kobé, a port in the channel separating Shikoku from Hondo, that it has eclipsed the older port of Yokohama in respect of its commerce, and it is in some things better situated for trade, particularly with the tea-producing districts. Kobé was originally a village adjoining Hiogo, which was the port that it was settled by treaty should be thrown open, and as a matter of fact it is divided from Hiogo only by a creek, a few feet wide. The port is now officially styled Kobé-Hiogo, and to all intents and purposes the two places are one.

Not only did the dai-mios of the western provinces modify their views on the subject of the admission of strangers but the reigning Emperor Komei himself ceased to contend at the last against that influx which if it could not be successfully resisted might very possibly, it was thought, be turned to good account in preparing the nation to combat other encroachments of a less pacific character in the days to come. It may well be that this resolution was arrived at in full view of events that were taking place in the extreme north of the Empire, where Russia was little by little feeling her way towards Yeso, and had already seized the moment of Japan’s preoccupation in respect of domestic concerns to establish herself in the island of Sakhalin, between which and Yeso only a narrow strait, twenty-five miles wide, existed to bar the path of the settlers to the virgin soil and luxuriant forests of “Hokkaido,” Japan’s “North Sea Circuit.” At all events the Emperor Komei about this time signified his willingness that the engagements which the Shogun had entered into with the powers of the Occident should be recognised and adhered to.

The Shogun Iyemochi, who had been wedded to the Emperor’s sister four years previously, but who had not during the intervening time wholly succeeded in overcoming his imperial master’s reluctance to ratify the treaties which his predecessor in the Shogunate Iyesada had made, was in 1864 residing at the castle of Osaka,—the stronghold built by the renowned Hideyoshi (the Tai-ko or generalissimo) at the close of the Sixteenth Century,—and was thus within a few hours’ journey of the imperial residence. His visit to Kioto that year (1864) had been marked by the Ten-shi’s favour despite the remembrance of his failure to induce the aliens to quit Japan’s shores, and no more had been heard of the proposition that he should forthwith expel the barbarians and restore peace to the country. The vital change in the sovereign’s ideas is believed to have been brought about mainly by the advice of the lord of the Satsuma province, who, as was to be seen, had changed his own opinion very considerably after the naval engagement at Kagoshima of the previous year. There can be no doubt that the influence of Shimadzu Saburo was largely instrumental in bringing about a reconciliation between the Emperor and the Shogun, and for the moment harmonious relations were re-established. The personal quarrel which arose with the lord Mori of Choshiu would have been a more serious matter for the Shogun had the Satsuma lord been ready to throw in his lot with Iyemochi’s opponents, and whatever may have been the feeling on the point at Hagi the disinclination of Satsuma to join the Choshiu clansmen in the attack on Kioto may be held to have turned the scale against Mori. It was not long before the two clans were actually united, however, in a successful attempt to demolish the Shogunate altogether. It is thought that when Iyemochi obeyed the summons of the Ten-shi to visit Kioto with, in the first place, the avowed object of concerting measures for the expulsion of aliens, he took the fatal step of subordinating his own party’s policy to that of the Court party, and thereby hastened the downfall of the Tokugawa family, for the strength of the Shogunate had lain in the assertion of its prerogatives as inheriting the privileges of its founder, the law-giver Iyeyasu, and who re-established it in the beginning of the Seventeenth Century.

But to return to the events of 1864, it was with excellent judgment and an intuitive perception of the favourable turn which affairs were then taking that Sir Harry Parkes, the British Minister, who had succeeded Sir Rutherford Alcock, seized the precise moment to despatch two members of his Legation staff, Messrs Mitford and Satow,—the present Lord Redesdale, and Sir Ernest Satow, now British representative at Peking,—to see the Shogun and personally endeavour to arrive at some satisfactory arrangement concerning the opening of the remaining ports to trade for which sanction had been obtained by the provisions of the Elgin treaty. The visit ended with complete satisfaction to the negotiators, and when the four powers directly concerned—viz. Holland, France, the United States, and Britain—urged officially on the Shogun the desirability of speedily opening Hiogo (Kobé) he agreed to write a letter to his imperial master suggesting that this should be done. The Emperor Komei at first refused but ultimately gave his consent. It was settled that Hiogo, and with it Osaka, should be opened to foreign trade and residence on and from the 1st of January 1868, which was five years later than had been contemplated by the framers of the Elgin treaty, but under the then existing circumstances it was highly creditable to the delegates to have achieved so much.

The defeat of the Choshiu men in their earlier attempt to capture Kioto had had the effect of inducing them to study the art of war as practised in the Occident, and when Iyemochi, in consonance with the imperial command, sought to chastise Baron Mori, and promptly marched his troops through the provinces bordering the Inland Sea as far as Nagato, he found himself confronted by a superior force of riflemen, armed after the modern fashion, who, though they lacked everything in the way of military uniform, had acquired sufficient knowledge of drill and co-operation to render them doughty opponents for any force that the Shogun could place in the field against them at that stage of the national development. The men who bore rifles were not in pre-Restoration days regarded as the highest in rank among soldiers, for the Japanese had of old a predilection for the personal combat, hand to hand, and were prone to despise warfare of the kind in which a missile was hurled at the foe from a comparatively safe distance. Thus the swordsman ranked highest in Japanese estimation down to a very recent period,—but the Choshiu riflemen proved by their able use of modern firearms that a power such as had been before unknown in relation to implements of strife lay in the weapons that they so coolly and dexterously handled to the complete discomfiture of their enemies. And thus was laid, it may be supposed, the foundation of that high standard of superiority which the Choshiu troops have since attained as regards their ability to wage war on modern principles. They developed a natural aptitude for the employment of firearms from a date long prior to the present Emperor’s reign, and for some years were the only force in Japan that might be said to have adopted western armaments, with perhaps the sole exception of a force of foreign-drilled infantry (some 800 in all), belonging to the Shogun, under Kubota Sentaro, which took part on behalf of the Japanese authorities in a review and sham fight that was held at Kanasawa, near Yokohama, on the 21st March 1866, at a time when it was needful to have a few British troops in the town for purposes of defence against a possible sudden descent of some recalcitrant dai-mio’s followers.

The Shogunate was tottering to its fall when it sought in June 1865 to suppress the Choshiu rising, and signally failed to do so. Only a few months later the Shogun Iyemochi died (August 1866), and was succeeded by Hitotsubashi Yoshinobu, a scion of the Mito branch of the Tokugawa family, and who is in more modern times alluded to as the Prince Keiki. The letters of which the Japanese pronunciation would be Yoshinobu are, when given their approximate Chinese sounds, to be read as Keiki, hence the two renderings of the Shogun’s name. Tokugawa signifies the “river of abundance,” and Keiki or Yoshinobu mean “goodness and joy,” the signification of the characters remaining unaltered, of course, whichever may be the system of pronunciation adopted. Shortly after Keiki’s accession to the Shogun’s seat the trouble in Choshiu was brought to an end by the lord Mori’s submission. Into the cause of that there is no need to enter here as it will be found to have been fully discussed in the chapter on the career of Marshal Yamagata. Peace was only nominally restored, for the reason that greater events were in preparation, and the country was now on the eve of those marvellous changes which ushered in the era of Meiji,—the period of Enlightened Rule,—by which his present Majesty chose that his reign should be known to posterity. The Emperor Komei’s decease followed very quickly upon that of the Shogun Iyemochi. Keiki had been Shogun only four months when Komei Tenno died and was succeeded by his son Mutsuhito, who happily still reigns over an adoring and devoted people, distinguished among the nations of the earth for their unfaltering attachment to the imperial throne and for the intense loyalty and patriotism they display towards its wise and benevolent occupant. It happened that at the moment when the Emperor Mutsuhito came to the throne Japan was torn by conflicting political views on the subject of the advisability of re-opening the country to foreign trade and intercourse, after having been closed to foreigners down to 1854 from a date early in the Seventeenth Century. The treaties which the Shogun had entered into with the representatives of Foreign Powers, during the lifetime of the Emperor Komei, still gave anything but unalloyed satisfaction to one section, and that a very numerous and implacable one, of the body politic, and the land was a prey to the most bitter dissensions. A large proportion of the so-termed anti-foreign party was sincere in its outcry for the expulsion of foreigners only so far as it might be the means to an end. No doubt there were thousands in Japan at that time who were genuinely hostile to strangers, and honestly believed that the land would be well rid of the intruders, but it is nevertheless true that these patriots, as they unquestionably deemed themselves, were exploited by the Reformers whose main ambition it was to see the country again governed by the Ten-shi himself, and not, as had so long been the rule, by his lieutenant the Shogun. It is due to the curious and altogether anomalous state of affairs that then existed that we have in the Makers of Modern Japan many men who at one time belonged to the party which openly advocated the expulsion of all aliens. Whatsoever may have been their real feelings at the time towards strangers, it is evident that their first care was to put an end to the dual system of control from Kioto and Yedo, and to restore the supreme power to the hands of the Ten-shi.

It is due to the memory of the Emperor Komei, though no great change was accomplished in his reign, to acknowledge the foresight he displayed in having his son and heir educated on liberal lines, thoroughly fitted for the duties of active sovereignty over his people, so that when the moment arrived for a revolution in the system of administration the youthful monarch was equipped with knowledge regarding the outer world and its chequered history that had never been acquired by his august predecessors on the imperial throne, coupled with broad and noble ideas of government far in advance of his years. The stirring events of 1867 and 1868 therefore found his Majesty not unprepared for the tasks devolving upon him. His training had indeed been almost Spartan in its rigour and simplicity, among the family of the Court noble to whose care he had been entrusted. Strict discipline is rather the rule than the exception in Japan in regard to the education of princes, and in the youth of the Emperor Mutsuhito there was no departure from established custom,—on the contrary, the Emperor his father had enjoined upon the noble charged with the heir-apparent’s education the necessity of making him a hardy rather than a delicate youth, and he was encouraged, therefore, to take delight in horsemanship and manly sports, the ancient game of da-kiu (Japanese polo) being much played in the palace grounds at that period. It is even said that he smelt powder before he was twelve years old, for the battle between the Choshiu men and the Shogun’s forces already mentioned took place in Kioto close to the imperial residence, and bullets flew in all directions among the palace buildings. As an equestrian his majesty shines conspicuously, for he is an accomplished rider, and takes a keen delight in the field manœuvres which in peace time are annually carried out in one part or another of his dominions. On these occasions it is no uncommon thing for the Emperor to be in the saddle day after day for a week together, and it may well be that to the profound study that he is well known by his troops to make, at all times, of the needs of his army, must in part be ascribed the firm belief of officers and men that they win battles by virtue of his beneficent interest in their welfare. He enjoys following his troops in their prolonged marches, when carrying out their regular training, and never hesitates to mount his charger in the roughest weather, on the principle that what his men are asked to do in the sense of exposure to the elements, he is ready himself to undertake. Alike under the hottest sun or the most drenching rain, he takes his stand on some eminence to watch them defile before him, utterly regardless of personal comfort or of danger to his health. In this he but evinces his complete repugnance to a life of luxurious ease, and it is to be said of his whole career, both prior to his accession to the throne of his ancestors and since, that he has never spared himself in any one particular, but has been a hard worker from his boyhood, with little or no disposition to indulge in play or relaxation of any kind save the mental recreation involved in the daily composition of a stanza of poetry. At another page will be found almost literal reproductions of some of his Majesty’s latest efforts in this direction, inspired, no doubt, by the circumstances of the terrible struggle in Manchuria, wherein so many thousands of his warriors have sacrificed their lives for the empire of which he is the revered head.

To return to the Emperor’s early life, he is ever ready to avow himself indebted to the ability and wisdom of his tutors, foremost among whom were the Princes Sanjo and Iwakura, whose part in the making of the Japan of to-day is elsewhere referred to in detail. They were Court nobles (kuge), and both are long since dead, but it was to their teaching in great measure, aided by that of other gifted counsellors, that was due the strikingly complete emancipation of his mind from old-fashioned ideas, and his adoption of the principles of government upon sound and progressive lines. His Majesty began his reign with a declaration, wholly spontaneous, that he would as soon as practicable create a deliberative assembly for the discussion of public affairs, that personal freedom should be secured to all his subjects, that whatever evil or pernicious customs were in existence should be abolished, and that a new system, based on the study of the experience of foreign nations, particularly as regarded the defence of the Empire, should be forthwith inaugurated. This was the substance of his Majesty’s Coronation oath, as it was termed, and is the Magna Charta of the rights and privileges of the Japanese people. The sovereign voluntarily repeated this promise at a Meeting of the feudal princes and barons assembled at the Palace in Kioto in April 1869, two years after his accession to the throne. But the interval had been occupied in effecting that radical change in the system of administration which has been the wonder of the world, and in quelling an insurrection which was the direct outcome of the abolition of the Shogun’s office, though personally the holder thereof had discouraged the rebellion as far as he could by resigning his post. The Emperor had accepted that renunciation of his rights by the Shogun Keiki, but the adherents of the Shogunate had fought on in spite of their titular leader’s withdrawal. In after years the sovereign, as we shall find, magnanimously abolished the decree which had in 1868 declared the Shogun to be in rebellion, and wholly absolved him from any intentional disobedience. But for the time being there was civil war in the Land of Sunrise, and the history of those unhappy eighteen months subsequent to the Emperor’s accession must briefly be told, though, as is the case with regard to the strife of the early sixties, in the United States of America, the memory of those terrible days when clan fought against clan in Japan has ceased to trouble the Ten-shi’s subjects, and those who once were sworn enemies are and have for many years past been good friends. The events of 1867 were especially important in respect of the influence that they were to exert on the future of the country. In the first place the powerful Satsuma clan had obtained a conspicuously influential position in the councils of the Empire. The prime mover in this had been Shimadzu Saburo, who was the real father of the feudal lord of the province, but as the previous daimio, who in reality was Shimadzu’s brother, had adopted the young prince as his son, it followed under the Japanese laws concerning adoption that the father became uncle to his own child. In the course of the violent controversy which had arisen Shimadzu had most vehemently opposed the Shogun, and accordingly he was classed among those who were averse to the opening of the treaty ports to foreign trade, but in reality he was not unfavourable to the admission of aliens, and was actually willing that the entire province of Satsuma should be open to foreign enterprise. To this suggestion, however, the Shogun had offered objections.

Satsuma had benefited by its trade with Nagasaki, the only port that had remained accessible to vessels from Europe during the long seclusion of the nation from Western intercourse. In the year 1866 the British Minister, Sir Harry Parkes, had accepted an invitation to visit the headquarters of the Satsuma clan, three years after the bombardment of the town of Kagoshima by Admiral Kuper’s squadron. The Minister made the voyage in the warship Princess Royal, accompanied by the Serpent and the Salamis, and the young prince of Satsuma came off to welcome his guest in a magnificent state barge. Sir Harry Parkes, on landing at Kagoshima on the 27th July, found that adjoining the daimio’s palace within the castle walls were a foundry and well-equipped workshops, and that at the foundry they had succeeded in casting a number of very serviceable cannon, and quantities of shot and shell. Near by was a glass works, and in one of the workshops was a steam lathe. These facts afford strong testimony to the progressive spirit manifested even at that period by the Satsuma clan, and the appreciation of the value of Western appliances which had thus early in the history of the Restoration struggle prompted the samurai of Satsuma to fit themselves to attain a commanding position among the supporters of the Ten-shi, as opposed to those who favoured the regime of the Shogunate.

The inability of the Shogun’s forces to subdue the Choshiu samurai had placed the Shogun himself in a position that was obviously intolerable. Not only was one of the most powerful of the feudal lords openly antagonistic to the Shogunate but it was known for a fact that the Satsuma clan was virtually allied to Choshiu in this effort to repudiate the Shogun’s right to exact obedience from the great feudatories. It is to the infinite credit of Tokugawa Keiki that at this crisis in his country’s affairs he recognised the need of a more centralised and uniform system of administration,—one in which the real power and control should be vested in the person of the Ten-shi. He resigned the office which had been in his family for 264 years, and begged that he might be permitted to retire into private life. The Emperor Mutsuhito accepted the voluntary surrender by the Shogun of his time-honoured privileges and in doing so opened a new chapter in the record of the Japanese Empire. The manifesto was in the sovereign’s own words and was substantially as follows:—

It has pleased Us, at his request, to dismiss the Shogun. Henceforward We shall exercise supreme authority, in both the internal and the external affairs of the nation. For the term “Tycoon” (meaning Shogun) which has hitherto been employed in the Treaties must henceforth be substituted that of Emperor.

To this historic document were appended the great seal of “Dai Nihon” and the signature in the monarch’s own caligraphy—Mutsuhito—it being, perhaps, the first time in all Japanese history that the personal name of the ruler had been used officially during his lifetime. The retiring Shogun left the capital and for a brief period took up his abode in the castle of Osaka. But it was to the chief town of Suruga province, midway between Tokio and Kioto, that he finally withdrew, and thereafter lived the unobtrusive life of a country gentleman on a small estate which the Emperor bestowed upon him. In this way, in the perfect seclusion of Shidzu-oka (lit.: the Hill of Peace) he was able to wholly divest himself of political connections, and was now and then to be seen setting out on a fishing excursion with perhaps but one attendant, preferring the quietude of his existence apart from the cares of State, and revelling in his emancipation from the pomp and circumstance of that Court of which for a brief interval he had been the acknowledged and puissant head. Never, perhaps, did a potentate more completely renounce his rights, nor so absolutely efface himself on doing so, in the history of mankind, but he has had his reward in the confidence and favour of the real sovereign whose deputy he had been, and from whom he has received in recent years the highest honours. He has the rank of Prince under the new regime, while Prince Tokugawa Iyesato, the head of the Tokugawa family, has also been raised to the same rank, and holds office as President of the House of Peers. Thus the family of Tokugawa, which from the close of the Sixteenth Century until 1868 virtually ruled Japan, retains, by the magnanimity of the Emperor, a status among the nobility of the land that is unsurpassed by any princely or ducal house, and actually boasts the possession among its ranks of two princes, since his Majesty thought fit in 1900 to request his former Shogun to visit Tokio, and then and there conferred upon him the title which he now holds, declaring at the same time that he was perfectly absolved of all participation in the events of 1867-8, which would no longer blot the record. There has been nothing in the personal relations of his Majesty with his dutiful and supremely loyal people which has more endeared him to them than his extreme generosity, and inasmuch as there were necessarily among all classes of his subjects many thousands—even hundreds of thousands—who had in their early days been proud to own allegiance to the Shogun and the Tokugawa house, the sovereign’s attitude has been more widely appreciated than it is possible, perhaps, for strangers to the country to comprehend.

The surrender of his privileges by the Shogun in 1868 was resented by the bulk of his adherents, and though they were compelled to retreat towards the north before the determined advance of the Satsuma, Choshiu, Hizen, and Tosa men, under the command of Saigo Takamori, whose notable history will be found elsewhere in this volume, the struggle lasted for many months. In support of the Tokugawa side the stoutest resistance was maintained by the Aidzu clan, whose chieftain dwelt in the castle of Wakamatsu, midway, or nearly so, between the capital and the straits of Tsugaru which separate the northern island of Hokkaido or Yeso from Hondo, the mainland. The prince of Aidzu had been guardian of the “Nine Gates” of the Ten-shi’s palace at Kioto under the Tokugawa regime, until the coup d’état of the 3rd January 1868, by which his opponents contrived to secure the person of the young Emperor, whereupon an imperial edict appeared appointing, instead of the Aidzu men, the clans of Satsuma, Tosa, and Geishiu, as guardians of the Gates. Loyalty to the old regime led the Aidzu chieftain to oppose as far as he was able the deposition of the Shogun, until he was made aware that Keiki’s resignation had been accepted by the Emperor.

Clan jealousy was of course responsible to a very great extent for the opposition of the northern feudatories to the proposed changes, and in the broad sense of the term this was a conflict in which the south waged war on the north. For according to that spirit of loyalty to a chief which prevailed then and, happily for Japan, still prevails, throughout the Ten-shi’s realms, in spite of his subjects having taken for a model the matter-of-fact latter-day civilisation of the Occident, it was permissible to regard the Shogun’s voluntary submission as an act prompted solely by a desire to spare the lives of his followers, and as such one of which they were not obliged to take cognisance, for although there was no act of self-sacrifice in which they were not ready to join if it could be proved to be needful in their country’s interests, they held themselves to be in no way bound by a promise or declaration that their chief had been compelled, as they deemed it, to make under the pressure of circumstances. They regarded the Shogun as the victim of a political combination, and were indisposed on that account to yield to the ambitious dominance of the clansmen of the south. The Aidzu men, therefore, continued to oppose a solid front to the Kioto party, and in the vicinity of Wakamatsu itself many desperate contests took place. All the males of a family, from the father to the youngest son, are known in some cases to have taken the field in defence, as they believed, of their lord’s interests, and warfare of that determined character which those who have watched the career of the Japanese soldier of to-day can fully comprehend lasted in the north of Japan until late in 1868. During the preceding summer there was a fierce engagement at sea, close to the town of Hakodate, which resulted in the defeat of the Shogun’s squadron, at that time commanded by Admiral Yenomoto. Ultimately a general amnesty was proclaimed, and the ships which remained under the Tokugawa flag were handed over to the newly-formed department of the imperial navy.

But before this came to pass, incredible as it may seem, an attempt was made, it was declared, to establish in Yeso some sort of republic, and the signatures to the remarkable document in which proclamation was made of the intentions of the promoters of this scheme included that of Otori Keisuke (now Baron), who later represented his nation with distinction as its Minister to the Court of Seoul. On board one of the vessels commanded by Admiral Yenomoto, moreover, in the engagement at Hakodate, was a young officer who in his later years has been the recipient of the highest honours in recognition of the splendid services rendered to his country in the course of a distinguished diplomatic career.

Strictly speaking, though the proceedings have been described at various times as tantamount to an effort to establish a republic it is impossible that the idea can ever have been entertained of overthrowing the authority of the Ten-shi, whose rule is based on principles which are in the minds of all his subjects immutable and indestructible. What the advocates of a republic for Yeso had in view could in reality have been but the setting up of an independent administration for the northern island, distinct from that of the Central government which it was proposed to provide for the whole Empire at Tokio. But the Shogunate Republic in Yeso, had it ever taken actual shape, would have been nothing more than a local administration owning allegiance to the sovereign power at Kioto, and it would have been more an imperial dependency than a republic.

The Shogun, at the time that he tendered his resignation of his office, had urged upon his imperial master the advisability of convening a meeting of daimios at the capital of Kioto, and his advice was taken. The lords of the various provinces assembled while the War of the Restoration, as it is termed, was yet in progress. A form of Government was decided upon in which the control of the administration was vested in a Council of State, presided over by a Chancellor (the Dai-jo-dai-jin) assisted by two Vice-chancellors (the Sa-dai-jin, or Vice-chancellor of the Left, which in Japan ranks highest, and the U-dai-jin, or Vice-chancellor of the Right). The Administrative departments of State comprised those of the Imperial Household, Foreign Affairs, Finance, War, Education, Justice, and Religion, each with its departmental chief or Minister. The First Council as finally formed was composed of:—

The Ministry was in reality constituted to give equal representation to the four leading clans, as far as practicable, though the Choshiu and Satsuma influence actually predominated.

Acting under authority of his Majesty the members of the Council here mentioned had in the preceding January, on the occasion of the coup d’état, established a provisional government, and had called upon the Shogun to surrender his heritage and to submit himself entirely to the will of his imperial master. For some months past there had been frequent conferences at the Nijo Castle in Kioto between the Shogun and Goto Shojiro (late Count Goto), who, with Komatsu of the Satsuma clan, persistently urged upon the Shogun the advisability of establishing an Imperial Government, with the effect that his Highness had been on the point of yielding to their arguments. Goto was the trusted representative of the Tosa clan, and had brought a letter from his feudal lord addressed to the Shogun, in October 1867, recommending his Highness to resign his position of Shogun, for patriotic reasons. There is excellent ground for the belief widely entertained in Japan, and which it is palpable his Majesty shares, that the Shogun, had he been wholly free to follow the dictates of his own heart, would have relinquished his office there and then, but a new complication arose through his followers coming to blows with the Satsuma retainers, thus compelling him either to repudiate them or to accept a position of absolute hostility to the new government of which the Satsuma chieftain was a leading member. It was with that extreme clemency which has throughout characterised the rule of the present monarch that in after years his Majesty spontaneously recognised that the Shogun had no real intention of being hostile to himself, and that it was mainly the acts of the adherents of the Tokugawa family which drove the Shogun into seeming antagonism to the party of reform. As already explained, the Emperor has recently conferred on the former Shogun a title by which his once lofty position in pre-Restoration days is fittingly acknowledged.

But for the time, as has been said, there was civil war, and its progress was marked by the almost continuous defeat of the Shogun’s forces, and their gradual retreat through the provinces of the Tokaido, the great eastern coast road, on the Shogun’s capital of Yedo, now Tokio. There in the famous castle some of the Tokugawa clansmen were closely besieged, while others made their way northward to the more remote regions of Aidzu and Oshiu, and again defied the imperialists until the future Field-marshal Yamagata finally hunted them down and compelled them to surrender as the only alternative to extermination. The Shogun himself finally retired into private life, at the urgent solicitation of Katsu, the lord of Awa province, in May 1868, five months after his resignation of his office in the first place had been formally accepted by the sovereign, and for what happened after May, until the autumn of that eventful year of 1868 saw the terrible internecine strife brought to a close, the Shogun cannot be held directly responsible. By many he has been blamed because he did not remain by the side of the young sovereign at Kioto in the stormy period which marked the last month of 1867 and the beginning of 1868, but it must be remembered that as a consequence of the coup d’état of the 3rd January the provisional government had already thrust the Shogun aside and was issuing edicts for which it had the direct authority of the monarch. The Shogun’s office had in reality ceased by that time to exist. His presence at Kioto may well have seemed to him in those days to have become superfluous, and his sense of self-respect prompted him to retire to his own castle of Osaka three days later, on the 6th January, seeing that he was no longer being consulted on affairs of State. In the same month of January 1868, there was a naval engagement off Awaji, that “foam-land” to which reference has been made in connection with Japanese mythology, and which lies athwart the Inland Sea a little west of Kobé, the opposed squadrons consisting of the Satsuma vessels Lotus, Kiang-Su, and Scotland, and the Shogun’s Kaiyo Maru (the frigate bought from the Dutch), the yacht Emperor (Queen Victoria’s present to himself) and the Fujiyama, another steamer purchased abroad. The three Satsuma ships were part of the fleet which had in recent years gradually been formed by the lord of the fief in pursuance of his conviction that the possession of powerful vessels would some day or other prove advantageous to the clan. They held their own fairly against the stronger ships of which the Tokugawa party had simultaneously possessed itself, and though the Scotland was sunk off Awa Bay as a result of the encounter the Satsuma men had no reason to be ashamed of the figure they cut in this early clash of armaments at sea. The Satsuma vessels had been under fire before, for they had taken part in the resistance offered by the Satsuma clan to Admiral Kuper at Kagoshima, when he undertook to chastise the lord of their province in 1863. The Tokugawa ships returned to Osaka, or rather to Tempo-san, which is to the great commercial port of Japan what Gravesend is to London, and there they awaited the progress of events in that spring of 1868 which must be accounted the most stirring period of Japanese modern history, as the events already narrated when taken in conjunction with those which have to be related will, it is believed, sufficiently demonstrate. It may be observed that after the battle of Fushimi, midway between Osaka and Kioto, which soon afterwards occurred, and in which the Tokugawa men were signally defeated, the frigate Kaiyo Maru was of the utmost service to the Shogun in conveying him from the region where his forces were meeting with nothing but disaster to a safe retreat for the time being at Yedo. He took passage in her from Tempo-san, and safely reached his own castle in what is now Tokio after two nights at sea.

The then British Minister, Sir Harry Parkes, early in the spring of 1868 despatched Messrs Satow and Willis to express to the newly formed Kioto Government his hope that the time might be deemed opportune for the inauguration of direct relations between the accredited representatives of Western powers and his Imperial Majesty, the Shogun having actually resigned three months or more before. Dr Willis was the medical officer attached to the British Legation, and at a later date took up his residence in Kagoshima, the chief town of Satsuma, where he was physician to the hospital which the clan established, and his services during the stormy days of the Restoration struggle and subsequently when the Satsuma men were nominally in rebellion were invaluable. The British Minister’s messengers were well received and hospitably entertained in Kioto, and were permitted to walk freely in the streets of the ancient capital of the Ten-shi, which was something that no foreigners had ever done before. The anti-foreign feeling was still very strong throughout Japan, as was proved by the wholesale massacre of a French vessel’s boat’s crew at Sakai, near Osaka. An officer and eleven men were killed in all, and the French Minister, M. Roches, made an imperative demand on the Shogun’s government, which at that time (February 1868) was administering the affairs of the country, for the delivery of the bodies of the murdered men within twenty-four hours, a request which it was found practicable as well as politic to comply with. Also a number of Bizen soldiers hailing from that province washed by the Inland Sea, west of Awaji, had in passing through the newly opened port of Hiogo, vented their animosity towards the strangers whom they saw in the streets by running amok among them and firing with their rifles right and left. This crime, like that perpetrated at Sakai, was avenged, for the Government was strong enough to issue orders for the performance of seppuku by the culprits and to insist on execution of the sentences. The Bizen men were marching from Okayama to Osaka at the time when they allowed their anti-foreign ideas to outrun their discretion, the actual order to fire on the foreign residents being given by one Heiki Tatewaki, whose death was decreed by imperial edict and the then Governor of the port, the present Marquis Ito, was directed as his Majesty’s representative, to see the act of seppuku carried out in due form.

THE ARMS MUSEUM AT TOKIO

But there were worse troubles to follow, for when, in the month of March, Sir Harry Parkes went to Kioto on the invitation of the Emperor, to attend, in company with the Ministers of France and Holland, the first imperial audience of the reign of Meiji, he and his retinue were suddenly attacked in a public thoroughfare there, by two outlaws, of the “ro-nin” type already described, and the British representative had personally a very narrow escape. But for the magnificent courage shown by the Japanese officers who had been sent to meet the Emperor’s guest, Goto,—who rode by Sir Harry’s side, and Nakai,—who was immediately in front, with a member of the Legation guard,—both of these Japanese gentlemen having instantly engaged the ro-nins with their swords so effectually that one of the assailants was slain on the spot, and the other taken prisoner, afterwards to be executed, it is probable that Sir Harry would have been killed. The eminent services rendered by Count Goto (as he afterwards became) to his country are elsewhere recorded in this volume. Queen Victoria decorated him, and likewise Mr Nakai, for their gallantry on this occasion, and the Emperor manifested his poignant regret for the outrage when the following month the British Minister was received at Court. The Ten-shi gave practical effect, moreover, to his abhorrence of these crimes by issuing a decree in which it was declared that all persons guilty in the future of murdering foreigners, or of committing any acts of violence towards them, would not only be transgressing the express commands of the Emperor, but would be the direct source of national misfortune, inasmuch as they would be committing the heinous offence of causing the national dignity and reputation for good faith to suffer diminution in the eyes of those Treaty Powers with which his Majesty had declared himself to be on terms of amity and friendship. The effect of such an edict on the minds of people so accustomed to obey their sovereign’s behests as are the Japanese could not be other than salutary, and although there were isolated cases in the years which ensued wherein attacks were made on strangers, the era of opposition to the entry of aliens was by this time practically at an end, and taken in conjunction with the abolition shortly afterwards of those anti-Christian edicts which had been promulgated by his predecessors on the throne it must be admitted that the Emperor speedily gave gracious and convincing evidence of his desire to rule with that justice and liberality towards humanity at large by which he has ever been distinguished throughout an already long reign.

These events have to be recorded in connection with the life of the imperial court at Kioto at a time when the war of the Restoration, as it is termed, was still in progress in the northern portion of the island of Hondo, and in many cases the fighting was of the most desperate character, fortune by no means invariably inclining towards the imperialists. There was a fierce encounter at Utsu-no-miya, a town about sixty miles north of the capital, resulting in a success for the Shogun’s side, their leader having been Otori Keisuke, who, after undergoing a term of imprisonment for his share in prolonging the rebellion, entered the Imperial Government service, and rose to occupy posts of distinction.

In October 1868, his Majesty Mutsuhito was crowned Emperor of Japan in the ancient castle of the Nijo, at Kioto, and it was then that he took the oath to rule constitutionally, which was a purely voluntary act, prompted by an earnest desire to confer upon his people the advantages and blessings of enlightened government. A few weeks later, in the second month of 1869, he wedded the Princess Haruko, the daughter of a Court noble, and during the ensuing spring the Imperial court was wholly transferred to Yedo, that city being renamed Tokio, or Eastern Capital, to distinguish it from Kioto, which bore thenceforward the official title of Saikio, or Western capital. At Tokio his Majesty took up his abode in the Hon-maru, or Inner circle of the former castle of the Tokugawa family, and on the following 6th of September he received Prince Alfred of England in the palace gardens of Fuki-age, adjoining the imperial residence. This was the first occasion in the history of Japan on which the sovereign had ever met a foreign prince, all previous intercourse with strangers having taken place through the medium of the Shoguns. The interview between the Ten-shi and the British prince, afterwards the Duke of Edinburgh, took place in a tiny summer-house in the picturesque grounds of Fuki-age, then of considerable extent and laid out in wholly Japanese style, with its clumps of bamboo, groves of pine, masses of rhododendron, and azalea, rippling brooks, and grassy dells that go to form the delightful pleasaunces in which the heart of every Japanese rejoices. The meeting was of a most cordial character, the Emperor on that occasion wearing the unique old-fashioned head-dress which it was customary from time immemorial for the sovereigns of Japan to don on State occasions. His majesty only once afterwards appeared in public with this peculiar crown, and that was on the day that he opened the railway from Tokio to Yokohama in 1872. He has since worn foreign dress at all State functions.

Late in 1869 the Emperor was joined at Tokio by the young Empress Haruko, who travelled overland by the highroad termed the Tokaido, with an immense retinue, resting on the way at the prescribed honjins or private hotels used by the feudal lords on their former journeys to and from Yedo, when the Shoguns required them to pay periodical visits to the headquarters of the Tokugawa government. The Empress was some weeks on the road from Kioto to Tokio, and as her procession passed through the street of Kanagawa, near Yokohama, the foreign residents took the opportunity to assemble at the wayside and show their respect for the Ten-shi’s consort. They did not catch a glimpse of her features, but they knew that behind the gauze-screened windows of her lacquered palanquin sat the highest lady of the land, perhaps as much interested in her first sight of the strangers from the west as they were with the various elements of the imperial cortege. Though her majesty had heard and read much of the characteristics of the Occidentals, she had never previously seen any of them; in after years, however, her own beneficent impulses in the cause of charity led her to receive on many occasions the wives and daughters of foreign residents and contributed to the establishment of an enduring fame as the strenuous advocate and supporter of all good works.

The Emperor was but little in evidence in the early years of his reign, and it was an event in the history of the nation when the monarch who had been brought up in such strict seclusion was one day seen in the streets of his capital driving in an open carriage to Hama-go-ten, the beach palace in the suburbs of Tokio, in company with his Ministers the Princes Sanjo and Iwakura. On this occasion he had done them the supreme honour of calling for them at their residences and conveying them in his own carriage to a ceremony in which they were both deeply concerned. This was on the 1st of October 1871, and it is difficult to estimate at its true value the extraordinary effect which so graceful an act on the part of the monarch who had only four years before succeeded to a dignity which seemed to impose on him an existence of absolute invisibility to his subjects must have had on those who were witnesses of this vast concession to modernised ideas. Under the old regime the princes would themselves have been hidden from the vulgar gaze by the latticed windows of their sedan chairs, and the sovereign would never have been seen outside his own palace walls.

The next year the first line of railway was completed and the moment was seized by his Majesty’s advisers for a grand ceremony at the port which thirteen years before had been thrown open to foreign trade. A suitable stage had been erected at the Yokohama end of the eighteen miles long railway, over which an experimental train service had been conducted for some weeks previously, and at the appointed hour the Emperor, clad in white silk robes, with a crimson sash, and scarlet trousers, and wearing in place of a crown the antique black coif terminating in an upright lath-like structure which rose some ten inches above his head, came forward in full view of the multitude, which included hundreds of foreign residents and visitors. To the great mass of his subjects, with whom the existence of the sovereign had always been a matter of pious belief rather than of assured reality, this manifestation in the flesh of their revered ruler was beyond measure impressive and gratifying. It unquestionably smoothed the path of the newly formed Central Government, for the advent of his majesty on the scene was proof positive that all which was then being done in the way of innovation upon established usage had the imperial sanction and authority. In Japan this meant a great deal more, owing to the respect for law and order which is admittedly inherent to the Japanese character and disposition, than it by any possibility could have done in lands where less reverence is shown to sovereign attributes. The day was one to be remembered by old and young alike, for it marked beyond all doubt the emancipation of Japan from the thraldom of a feudal system which had held her in check for centuries. The Emperor had set the seal of his approval on projects of reform.

In the same year the Gregorian calendar was adopted throughout Japan, and from this period may be said to have been obliterated those discrepancies in dates which had been unavoidable owing to the tendency to resort to the Chinese plan of reckoning time. Down to the year named the day of the month corresponded to the age of the moon, and an intercalary month had to be provided in the calendar every third year. The new year fell usually between mid-January and mid-February, and as dates were given in conformity with the old style of reckoning in some cases and in others the new, it may be that down to 1872 there will here and there be found a difference of a month or so in the recorded dates of events.

The opening of the railway in 1872 from Tokio to Yokohama, though of no great length, made communication between the capital and its port a far more easy matter than it had been at the time when the Tokaido was the only highway and traffic was liable to dislocation by the passage of a daimio and his retinue of two-sworded samurai. It is true that for some two or three years prior to the date on which the regular service of trains between the two places began to work a revolution in the system of travel there had been a steamer or two plying to and from the wharf at Tsukiji, near the Hama-go-ten Palace, in Tokio, and the jetty at Yokohama which then existed near the northern end of the “Bund” or Esplanade. But the accommodation, though the residents freely enough availed themselves of such facilities as the service afforded, was of the most limited and primitive character, and was necessarily wholly inadequate to the demand for the means of transport of that almost pauseless ebb and flow of the tide of humanity along the shores of the bay which from the days of Kaempfer had never failed to attract the attention of travellers. One of the saddest incidents of the early days of the new era was the explosion of the small steamer Yeddo as she lay at the Tsukiji “hatoba” with steam up in readiness for her daily voyage to Yokohama, some scores of lives being sacrificed on that occasion. The Yeddo was one of the pioneers of the coasting trade of Japan, which has since grown to proportions truly enormous.

While the railway to the “Eastern capital” was being built, another line was commenced from the newly opened port of Kobé-Hiogo to Osaka and on to the “Western capital” of Kioto. It was officially opened for traffic in 1873, the Emperor being present on the occasion, which gave rise to great national rejoicing. The improved methods of transport had by that time been extensively supplemented by greatly enhanced facilities for intercommunication in the form of telegraph lines, which had been stretched over practically the entire length of the highroad from Tokio to Nagasaki, close upon 1000 English miles. The work was done in the days when the peasantry of the interior had no conception of the value of such aids to commerce and were not easily to be persuaded to refrain from interference therewith. In many cases the telegraph poles were uprooted as soon as they were planted in the ground, and in others the opposition to the innovation took the form of active hostility to the individuals, both native and foreign, charged with the duties of carrying out the proposed works. The origin of this antagonism, however, was to be ascribed solely to local prejudice, and the punishment of the ringleaders proved to be a sufficient deterrent to the rest, for after the first few months the attacks entirely ceased.

At this stage the residents of the Capital had become somewhat accustomed to see the Emperor riding or driving through the streets of the metropolis, for he periodically reviewed his troops on the Hibiya parade ground, and not infrequently was to be seen visiting places at some distance from his capital. The greatest concern was manifested by all classes when, late one night in the spring of 1873, the signal guns were heard to announce that a fire had broken out within the castle. There was a prompt muster of the forces forming the Tokio garrison and for a while the utmost consternation prevailed. The damage done was immense, and the actual source of the outbreak was discovered to have been in such dangerous proximity to the imperial apartments as to suggest for the moment that there had again been a preconcerted arrangement to seize the person of his Majesty, in the confusion which might well have been expected to arise on the warning guns being fired. Happily the monarch was efficiently guarded, and whatever may have been the true cause of the conflagration there was no difficulty in removing the Court to another palace at Akasaka, in the suburbs, wherein his Majesty dwelt during the rebuilding on a modern design of the imperial residence within the Honmaru. In the thoroughfares of Tokio were at this time to be seen scores of Satsuma samurai, retainers of the feudal chieftain Shimadzu Saburo, who was occupying the position in the new Government of Sa-dai-jin, or Vice-president of the Left, as already mentioned, and these ardent spirits of the warlike clan of the south found much in the changes that were then taking place to be displeased with. They persisted in wearing their two swords in their belts, and had their hair dressed in the old-fashioned queue. Their retention of the old style of costume, too, with its loose trousers, sandals for the feet, and lacquered helmet tied with cords for the chin, among a population that was already beginning to adopt foreign fashions to a notable extent, made them conspicuous and provoked the ridicule of the lower classes. This the Satsuma clansmen were quick to resent, and here and there slight skirmishes were recorded, the general effect being to create a feeling of uneasiness which lasted for many weeks until the Satsuma chieftain, as elsewhere explained, resigned his office and returned to his stronghold of Kagoshima in the summer of 1873.

The year 1874 was memorable as that of the expedition to Formosa, when Japan chastised the savages of the south-east coast of that island for their ill treatment of Japanese shipwrecked sailors. China’s attention had been drawn to these barbarities, but she had professed her utter inability to put a stop to them, and Japan had then warned the Peking Government that if the savages should continue to subject Japanese mariners or others who might be cast away on Formosan shores to the inhuman treatment which it had been the fate of others in misfortune to experience the Tokio Cabinet would know what to do. A fresh incident arose and Japan was as good as her word. The younger brother of the Saigo Takamori whose fame as a leader will never wane was selected as the Chief of the Expedition, and to him, afterwards the Marquis Saigo, his Majesty entrusted the duty of vindicating the honour of the Japanese Empire, of which it must never be said that it has shown the slightest hesitation to hit out when the interests of its own people have been imperilled. In past years her arm has not always been long enough to extend support to her subjects over-sea, but it is Japan’s aim, as it is that of Britain, to convince the rest of the world that while she repudiates most vigorously the idea that she seeks territorial aggrandisement or covets the recognition of an unchallenged supremacy in the Far East, she at all times resents the slightest attempt to trespass on what are regarded by her statesmen as the boundaries of her national safety. If Japan’s arm is growing longer and her policy seems to be far-reaching, it is but the natural outcome of her resolve to protect her people wherever they may be and to encourage their lawful desires for expansion into fresh fields of enterprise as the result of the remarkable growth of her population at home.

The Formosan expedition proved a complete success, and a detailed account of its progress will be met with elsewhere in these pages. It gave to the newly formed army its first opportunity of displaying to the satisfaction of the sovereign its qualifications as a fighting force, inasmuch as the difficulties which it had to encounter, although its adversaries were savages, were naturally on a formidable scale, and the undertaking bore in this respect a strong resemblance to what have been described as Britain’s “little wars.” The upshot was that the tribesmen of the Formosan east and south-east coasts developed a wholesome fear of the prowess of disciplined troops and from that time forward there were no recorded instances of their maltreatment of mariners, whilst at the present day the best effects are perceptible from the spread of education among them in consequence of the establishment of native schools in Formosa since it became a Japanese Colony. There was, however, an additional advantage secured to Japan by the expedition, in that it served for the time to divert attention from the ever-pressing political questions arising from China’s somewhat irritating attitude, mainly in regard to Korea. From time immemorial the monarch of Korea had paid tribute to Japan at stated intervals much in the way that he had paid an annual tribute to China, but owing to Japan’s preoccupation with other and weightier matters the practice had fallen into desuetude. Instigated by ambitious Chinese officials, as it was generally supposed, Korea had sought to free herself from any and all obligations to continue this practice, and by way of emphasising this reluctance to be bound by old traditions the Koreans had thought fit to attack the Japanese Legation and to otherwise commit unfriendly acts towards their immediate neighbours on the east. The Samurai of Satsuma and the other southern clans clamoured to be led against the Koreans,—and if the Koreans should be supported by China, then against the Chinese as well,—in order that these insults to the Japanese flag might be avenged. It was a strong plea, but it had to be resisted, for Japan was not ready to embark at that time in a great war. Consequently the Government deemed it prudent to be content with the compensation offered and the establishment of a garrison for the Legation at Seoul which might suffice to adequately protect its staff. By the ardent followers of the Satsuma chieftain, however, this was regarded as wholly insufficient, and matters had reached a decidedly perilous stage when the despatch of an expedition to Formosa happily provided an outlet for the superabundant energies of the younger swordsmen. The personnel of the punitive force consisted largely of Satsuma samurai, and right well did the men acquit themselves in the tasks which fell to their share in the mountainous wilds of “the Beautiful Isle.”

A few months prior to the setting out of the Formosan Expedition there had been an insurrection in Saga, the chief town of the Hizen province, led by Yeto Shimpei, who had not long before been a member of the new Government. The rising had been very quickly suppressed, and without much bloodshed, but it was an indication that the policy of the new administration met with scant favour in some of the regions remote from the metropolis, where the spirit of the people was, for want of wider knowledge, very averse to what were viewed as pernicious innovations based upon a wholesale introduction of Occidental manners and customs. Though the antipathy to foreign methods subsided with the punishment of the foremost of the Saga insurgents, the embers were not wholly extinguished, and less than three years later they burst once more into flame at Kagoshima, as will presently appear, and in the meantime the growing hostility in Satsuma to the proceedings of the Tokio Cabinet revealed itself in a variety of ways, though it was the policy of the administration to avoid the danger of driving matters to extremities with the warlike clansmen of the extreme south, at the head of whom stood Saigo Takamori, then resident on his own farm in the vicinity of the castle town which was the Satsuma stronghold and the headquarters of its quasi-independent military organisation. Nevertheless, the clansmen continued their regular drilling and set utterly at naught the remonstrances of the Tokio Government.

Affairs in Satsuma reached their climax in February 1877, when a march to Kioto was decided upon, the military cadets and the clansmen, mustering over 12,000, having resolved on accompanying their leader Saigo Takamori on a journey to the Western capital ostensibly to beg for the intervention of his Majesty in respect of the grievances which Satsuma claimed to be enduring at the hands of the existing Tokio Government. The telegraph promptly carried the news to Kioto of the departure of this formidable force from Kagoshima, and preparations were instantly made to oppose its progress. The Emperor proclaimed Saigo and his followers to be in rebellion, and the Emperor’s uncle, Prince Arisugawa, was directed to inflict punishment on the offenders. The incidents of the campaign in Kiushiu which ensued are set forth at length elsewhere in this volume, and order was not restored in the southern island until the autumn of the year, after a period of the most disastrous strife in which Satsuma was a house divided against itself, inasmuch as there were many of the clan who remained faithful to the imperial standard, notably the younger Saigo, afterwards marquis, and Admiral Kawamura, who commanded the imperial fleet.

The Emperor remained for some time at his Kioto palace before returning to Tokio, and it was known at the time that this outbreak of hostilities in a part of his dominions occasioned his Majesty the most profound sorrow, the more so that Saigo Takamori had led his own forces to victory ten years before, when the imperialists had been plunged into warfare with the adherents of the Shogun. That Marshal Saigo should have been so ill advised as to head an insurrection was to the monarch whom he had in former years served so faithfully a source of the most poignant grief, and the sad end of the arch-rebel, in battle on the crest of Shiroyama, in the town of Kagoshima, made a deep impression on all in Japan. The Emperor’s attribute of magnanimity was displayed only a few years ago in the grant of a peerage to the son of the famous Satsuma leader, and the imperial approval of the erection of a monument to his memory in the public park of Uyeno, in Tokio. The record of Saigo’s rebellion has been effaced, and only his splendid services to the State in the years prior to 1877 are kept in his sovereign’s remembrance.

The period which followed the war in Satsuma was one of uninterrupted industry and persevering endeavour on the part of all the Ten-shi’s subjects to make up for the time which had been lost by the civil war. Immense interest was taken in the advancement of education and the spread of commercial enterprise, the shipping and manufacturing trades being diligently fostered by wise enactments that were often the outcome of the ruler’s own initiative. There can be no doubt that at this period were laid the foundations of that unexampled industrial prosperity which has distinguished the latter portion, down to the present time, of the Meiji era, and which, resting as it does on the most secure basis—one which even a war with a great European power has been powerless to disturb—bids fair to last for ages to come.

In 1880 the Imperial edict appeared establishing the prefectural assemblies, local parliaments which served in not a few instances to develop a talent for debate in political aspirants, and likewise to familiarise the agricultural population, wherein lies the main strength of the nation, with the principles of representative institutions on a larger scale, such as had been foreshadowed by the Imperial promise made at the time of the Emperor’s accession. That promise was reiterated, and a definite date assigned for the opening of the Japanese Diet, by his Majesty in the following year. It was in 1880, too, that the new Penal Code and the Code of Criminal Procedure, on both of which a vast amount of careful consideration had been bestowed, were promulgated, the codes themselves having been compiled with a lucidity and completeness which leave nothing to be desired. There is no ambiguity about the laws of Japan, and as translations have been made and published under the sanction of the Government, accessible to all, it is practicable for a stranger to make himself acquainted with the rules and regulations applicable to every walk of life without the aid of lawyer or interpreter.

The announcement that the Emperor had determined to grant a Constitution was everywhere received with joy and gratitude, for though the time had not, it was fully comprehended, yet arrived when it would be feasible for a representative assembly to meet, the nation had the sovereign’s word for it that there would be no needless delay.

Under the system which existed in the early years of the Meiji era the Ministry had consisted of those charged with the conduct of Foreign and Home Affairs, the management of the naval and military forces, of the national finances, of ecclesiastical affairs, and of public instruction. At the side of the Ministry stood the Sa-In, or Senate, of which there were thirty-two members, and the Sho-In, or Council of State, the number of members whereof was unlimited,—the nominations to both these bodies being made by the sovereign. The power of the Emperor was in those days, in both temporal and spiritual affairs, regarded as boundless, and a voluntary surrender of rights which,—though they had often in the past history of the nation lain dormant,—had existed unchallenged from remote antiquity,—was a concession the importance of which could not be too highly esteemed. The Senate (Gen-Ro-In, as it was latterly termed) was composed of Peers of the realm, and of persons who had rendered the country distinguished service in their several capacities, or who were eminent by reason of their erudition, and its duty was to take charge of legislative matters referred to it by the Cabinet or introduced at the instance of the Senate itself. The Gen-Ro-In was likewise empowered to receive petitions regarding legislation from outside sources, so that in its functions it was largely the forerunner of the present House of Peers, as constituted under the edict of 1889. There was also a Local Governors’ Council, which resembled to some extent a national assembly, though composed of officially nominated members, for it was directed by imperial rescript on its first sitting that its duties would be “to attend to the affairs of State as the representative of the people’s interests.” In the same rescript the Emperor declared that the said Council had been called together “in pursuance of the solemn promise, given by Us on the occasion of Our accession to the Throne, to summon delegates of Our subjects to assist Us in the conduct of affairs of State, to make with those delegates arrangements calculated to cement the amicable understanding that prevails between rulers and ruled, and to enable both to co-operate for the common good of the country.” It was added that the Governors who attended the Council were in “no danger of incurring the displeasure of the Government for any opinion enunciated by them at the meeting.” The Council which had thus existed since 1875 was abolished in 1880, but meanwhile the prefectural assemblies had been established, and there were thus other legitimate channels for voicing public opinion.

The next year saw the issue of the proclamation providing for the assembly of a truly national representative body in 1890, and meanwhile Marquis Ito and his staff were diligently preparing the Constitution and the Laws bearing upon elections to the Diet and the Houses themselves, all of which were proclaimed in 1889, on the 11th February, the anniversary of the ascension of the throne by Jimmu Tenno. Thus was fulfilled in its entirety the promise made in the “Charter Oath,” as it is termed, taken by his Majesty on his coronation. The Imperial Rescript has been throughout the guide and mainstay of the people’s hopes and ambitions, and in its original form it was worded as under;—(the translation is almost literal)—

I. In administering the business of the State, We shall settle affairs by public opinion, which shall have an opportunity of expressing itself in public representative assembly.

II. Our administrations shall be in the interests of the whole people, and not of any particular class of Our subjects.

III. No person, whether official or private citizen, shall be hindered in the prosecution of his legitimate business.

IV. The bad customs of past ages shall be abolished, and Our Government shall tread in the paths of civilisation and enlightenment.

V. We shall endeavour to raise the prestige and honour of Our country by seeking knowledge throughout the world.

In 1893, when Parliamentary institutions were in their infancy, the representative assemblies having met for the first time in 1890, the climax was reached in a furious political agitation by the Lower House of the Diet voting a wholesale reduction of the Government expenditure, to which the Ministry absolutely refused to consent. It was then that the Emperor intervened with a characteristic message impartially addressed to both his Cabinet and to the Diet, pointing out facts which he was resolved to bring to their remembrance. The Emperor declared that the progress of foreign countries in which representative institutions had taken root had been rapid and constant, but that if disputes and bickerings were indulged in not only would time be wasted and energies dissipated but the attainment of those worthy objects for which all were working would be hindered and delayed. He continued;—“We have full confidence in the faith and ability of the servants of Our Crown, and have committed to their care the execution of measures calculated to promote our designs, and We have no doubt but that the representatives of Our people will share with Us in our care for the national welfare. The expenditures mentioned in Article 67 of the Constitution—i.e. those connected with naval and military administration—should not be the cause of any dispute or contention, seeing that they have the express written sanction of Our Decree. In the matter of administrative reform, We have given special instruction to Our Ministers to give the fullest consideration, so that there may be no error in the conclusions they arrive at, and then come to Us for Our sanction to any reforms they may desire to introduce. The question of national defence is one which brooks no delay, and in order to show our own sense of its paramount importance We have directed that the expenditures of Our Household be cut down, so that We may be able to contribute a yearly sum of Yen 300,000 [£30,000] for the next six years to the necessary equipment of the national defences. We have at the same time ordered all officers and officials in Our service to contribute, unless excused by Us for exceptional reasons, one-tenth of their salaries, for the same period of years, towards the expenses of naval construction. We depend, therefore, on the co-operation, along constitutional lines, of Ministers and Representatives, in the accomplishment of our great national tasks; and We call upon Our people, one and all, to do their duties in this matter.”

That proclamation appeared in 1893, one year before the outbreak of war with China, and it had the effect of putting an end to the disputes, for all sides cheerfully acquiesced in the wisdom and impartiality of the sovereign’s decision.

During the war with China in 1894-5, the Emperor’s solicitude for the welfare of his people and the painstaking diligence with which he entered into the minutest details of the naval and military plans for the prosecution of the campaign in Manchuria and Shantung, his unwearying attendance at his desk in the Hiroshima headquarters for more than eight months without change, having left his Court behind him when he took upon himself the serious burdens of conducting the war, endeared him to his people to an extent that no mere words could effectively describe. When at the close of the long struggle he returned to his capital his reception was such as to have satisfied his utmost aspirations and must have convinced him that his subjects feel for him not the traditional reverence they owe to a sovereign but the deep and abiding regard of a loving people.

Her Majesty the Empress has been for thirty-seven years the devoted consort of the ruler, and is esteemed throughout the imperial dominions as the very embodiment of all the womanly virtues. While the Emperor is immeasurably concerned with the welfare of the army and navy, her Majesty takes the utmost personal interest in the Red Cross Society, and continually works for the benefit of the hospitals, her greatest happiness consisting in identifying herself with or aiding with her own hands the undertakings of charitable institutions. In the wars which Japan has gone through the care of the sick and wounded has been the subject of the Empress’s most anxious thought, she and the four young princesses having toiled at bandage-making and other useful occupations day after day. She regularly devotes much time to such tasks, encouraging the sick with cheering words, and she rigorously pared down her household’s expenditure from the outset, in order that the contributions made to benevolent societies might be the more munificent. She has always been a liberal patroness of the arts, and in the direction of education she has been untiring in her promotion of worthy objects. There is not a man or woman in the empire who would allude to her Majesty in terms short of the most profound and respectful regard, and the people yield her homage not more by right of her exalted station than in their universal recognition of her queenly attributes and personal charm.

The Crown Prince has received an education which has among other things fitted him to become in due course of time the Commander-in-chief of the Army and Navy. He does not take part in active service, but all the other princes of the blood have by the Emperor’s desire entered the services afloat or ashore, and have very recently been serving as Military or Naval officers in war.

The late Prince Arisugawa, as the chief of the general staff, was at the headquarters at Hiroshima during the China War, and planned all the operations of the campaign. He died at the age of sixty-one from the results of hard work and exposure, during the trying months from September 1894 to January 1895.

He was succeeded in his office by his relative, the late Prince Komatsu, who in March 1895 proceeded to China as Commander-in-chief of the army in the field.

Prince Kita-Shirakawa was also in the field as commander of the imperial guards division, and fought at Port Arthur, and in Formosa, where he died before the end of the war from the effects of climate. He was universally popular as an officer, and his early decease was deplored. Prince Takehito Arisugawa was at Wei-hai-wei and the Pescadores, and did good service as the captain of the Matsushima.

Prince Kanin, as a major and officer of the staff, fought bravely in the Liaotung peninsula, and likewise took part in the Russo-Japanese war, in which also three of the imperial princes were under fire, before Port Arthur.

Prince Higashi Fushimi was a commander on board the Chitose, Prince Yamashina on the Yakumo, and Prince Fushimi was on the Hatsusé.

It was a source of immense pride to the nation that these princes of the imperial house were all actively engaged on its behalf in the hour of trial.

Thirty-eight years ago the Emperor began his most auspicious reign with the solemn message to his people, conveyed in the Go-Jo-no-Go-Sei-Mon—i.e. a Decree of Five Articles previously referred to:—

“On ascending the Throne of Our Ancestors, Our determination is, in spite of all difficulties that may beset Our path, to rule Our country in person, to secure the peace of all Our subjects, to open friendly relations with other countries, to make Our country glorious, and to establish the nation on a permanent basis of prosperity and happiness.”

With extreme tenacity of purpose and the most steadfast determination the sovereign has never deviated a hair’s-breadth from the course which he set himself to follow. He cast aside at the outset the ties which might have bound him to an ancient feudalism, resolved to substitute Constitutional and Parliamentary Government for the Absolutism that his predecessors on the throne had exercised, and by his countenance and example rendered feasible the adoption by his people of all the arts and sciences known to modern civilisation, in order that the nation might ultimately raise itself to a pinnacle of greatness never before attained by a purely Asiatic Empire.

Under his Majesty’s wise rule Japan has developed her latent resources and extended her commerce to a degree that has transcended even the most sanguine expectations of her mercantile men, while she has perfected within her borders the essentials of a permanent system of defence, naval and military, ample for her needs.

The address which the Emperor first issued to his Army and Navy made the deepest impression on the minds of all, and its stirring tones have rung in the ears of his soldiers and sailors ever since, as they have braced themselves to measure strength with their enemies on land and sea. The Emperor said:—

“As your Commander-in-chief We fully rely upon you as We do upon Our own hands, and desire you to look to Us as your head, so that the relation between us may be one of absolute and sincere confidence and trust. Whether We perform Our duty successfully or not, depends entirely on the manner in which you perform yours. If Our country fails to stand high in the opinion of other nations, We desire you to share in Our sorrow. If it rises with honour, We will enjoy the fruits of it with you. Stand firm in your duty; assist Us in protecting the country; and the result must be the prosperity of the nation and the enhancement of Our country’s reputation.”

This is the “imperial message” the terms of which are graven deep on the memories of men of both services in Japan, inspiring them with ardour in the heat of battle and encouraging them to patiently endure the inevitable privations and suffering of their lot. The root-principle of their conduct is strict conformity with the Emperor’s Message, their one anxiety not to fall short of their duty in executing the ruler’s commands. The imperial charge laid upon them is that they shall be brave and enduring, true and honourable in their actions, simple and frugal in their habits.

In their Emperor they have always had a brilliant example set them, not only of diligence in the performance of daily tasks, but of the practice of that frugality and adherence to a simple mode of life which is enjoined upon all. His menage is noticeably free from ostentation, his wardrobe and table being almost meagrely supplied. Winter and summer he is at his desk by 8 A.M., ready for the transaction of State business, and his endurance is marvellous, for when occasion demands it he will continue at work far into the night, ever ready to receive any of his ministers in audience should matters of serious importance arise. The Emperor is well known to his people to have the habit of closely questioning those who may come before him until he has mastered the facts of a case, and then he gives his decision without hesitation. His fondness for horses is proverbial, and it is always on horseback that he appears at reviews of his troops, or at the annual manœuvres, when he conducts the operations in person, as Commander-in-chief. His Majesty’s sympathies are promptly aroused by the oft-recurring calamities that unhappily sweep over Japan, in the form of tornadoes, earthquakes, tidal waves, conflagrations, or epidemics,—he condoles with the sufferers,—and his privy purse is open to the relief of real distress. His personal attributes have won the respect and affection of his people, now numbering 46,000,000—an increase of 14,000,000 has taken place in the population of his dominions since he came to the throne—and in an intensely practical age like the present it is stimulating to discover that there is a nation in the distant Orient which, while its sons have fought their way to “a place in the sun,” has nevertheless preserved throughout a whole-souled devotion and unquestioning loyalty to its monarch, never exceeded, never perhaps equalled, in the history of the globe.

Allusion has been made to the Emperor’s predilection for writing short poems as a relaxation from the cares of State. They are occasionally given out for publication in the daily journals and appear under the heading of Giyo-Sei—i.e. Imperial Compositions. Those of last year frequently bore reference to the war in which his forces were engaged in Manchuria, and two may here be quoted in illustration of the trend of his Majesty’s thought during that anxious period:—

Ikanaran koto ni aite mo, tayumanu wa,

Waga shikishima no Yamato-damashii.

Scorning to yield, whatever fate’s decree—

Undaunted is the soul of my Japan.

Shiraku mono yoso ni motomu na yo no hito no

Makoto no michi zo Shikishima no michi.

Sincere as one who seeks for that which lies beyond,—

My country’s course shall be.

II
PRINCE TOKUGAWA KEIKI: THE LAST OF THE SHOGUNS

Prior to the Meiji era, which began in 1867, the Shogun (known in foreign countries as the Tycoon), who was the Emperor’s deputy at Yedo, now Tokio, personified the military supremacy of a feudal system which had existed for many centuries, the last occupant of the post being the direct descendant of the founder of the Tokugawa house in which the office of Shogun had been hereditary from the year 1603. Possibly the history of Modern Japan might have taken a different turn but for the recognition by the Shogun Hitotsubashi Yoshinobu, otherwise Tokugawa Keiki, of the necessity of introducing reforms into his country if it were to hold its own against the tendency to deal arbitrarily with the nations of the Orient which was half-a-century since being manifested by some of the powers of the Occident. Prince Keiki placed his resignation in 1868 in the hands of his imperial master and counselled the adherents of the Tokugawa house to unite with those of the Southern clans in efforts for the well-being of the nation at large. That his followers could not be persuaded at once to take his advice can scarcely be regarded as the fault of the Shogun, who had only the year previously succeeded to the honours of the position yet was prompt to relinquish them in order, as he hoped, to avert some of the horrors of civil war. Tokugawa Keiki was chosen by the Mito branch of the family to follow the Shogun Iyemochi in 1866, and he succeeded to power at Yedo castle at a moment when Japan was racked with dissensions between the party which opposed the opening of the ports to foreign trade and that which was in favour of the admission of strangers. The Shogun Iyesada, who in 1854 and subsequent years had entered into the treaties with the representatives of the Occidental nations, had been repudiated by his imperial master, the Emperor Komei, who for a long time refused to ratify these agreements. Even though he eventually signed them the nation remained sharply divided within itself on the question of the introduction of foreign methods. It is almost necessary, in order that the position occupied at this period by the Shogun should be fairly comprehended, to allude briefly to the earlier history of Japan, from about the time of the Emperor Konoye, who was contemporary with King Stephen of England. The rise of the military caste in Japan dates from that era, when the Taira and Minamoto families were contending for the mastery, and it was a period which has been termed not altogether inaptly that of the Japanese “wars of the roses” (the badges worn were really red and white chrysanthemums), inasmuch as the rival clans were intimately related to each other, and strove to place their respective candidates in possession of the real executive power, which was even then becoming gradually acquired by the deputies of the true sovereigns who dwelt at Kioto. Ultimately the Minamoto family prevailed, in the person of the famous warrior Yoritomo, about 1185 A.D., and seven years later, when his authority had been firmly established, he received from the reigning sovereign the title of Sei-I-Tai-Sho-Gun—i.e. Barbarian-vanquishing-Generalissimo, in allusion to the duty of guarding Japan from the inroads of those northern savages who at that period made occasional descents on the coasts of Oshiu. The headquarters of the Shogun’s government were then at Kamakura, a place of great interest to travellers at the present day, and within easy reach of the port of Yokohama. Kamakura as it now stands contains but few traces of its former glories, but the temple dedicated to Hachiman, the Japanese Mars, is of noble proportions and annually attracts thousands of pilgrims who journey thitherward in confident expectation of obtaining relief or benefit from the virtue inherent in this celebrated shrine. In Yoritomo’s day it was a city of 1,000,000 inhabitants, but its yashiki walls, crumbling to powder, are fast disappearing, and its magnificent avenues of cedar ceased to resound to the martial tread of mail-clad warriors centuries ago. Kamakura fell, as Yedo rose, and Yedo castle, some portions of which yet exist, adjoining the Imperial palace, was begun in 1592. It is Kamakura that boasts the possession of the bronze image of Buddha, over fifty feet in height, towering from its high pedestal above the groves of pine that surround the temple, and forming a conspicuous landmark as the village is first seen from a hill on the Fujisawa road. After Yoritomo’s death the Ho-jo family gained an ascendency in the affairs of the nation and practically ruled it until 1333 A.D., for the Shoguns of that epoch were scarcely more than figureheads. But it is to the everlasting credit of the Ho-jo that when Kublai Khan sought to subjugate Japan, in the thirteenth century, the defence of the country was in their hands so complete as to have led to as overwhelming a defeat of the Mongol armada as that which Queen Elizabeth of England inflicted upon the presumptuous Spaniards in 1588. The Mongol invaders had, like the Duke of Medina Sidonia, not only to contend against the very active defenders of the realms which they sought to invade, but also with fierce storms at sea that threw their vessels into confusion and exposed the scattered fragments of Kublai Khan’s immense fleet to separate and disastrous attack from the Japanese vessels manned by resolute samurai.

THE EX-SHOGUN AND FAMILY

The armada which had threatened Japan’s independence had no sooner been disposed of than internecine strife began afresh, and rival dynasties of Shoguns kept the land in a ferment until, in 1392, the northern or Ashikaga line proved itself the stronger, and Japan entered into the enjoyment of two centuries of almost uninterrupted peace. Under the Ashikaga administration the country flourished exceedingly, and the epoch is famed in Japanese history as one in which learning and the sciences advanced to a degree of perfection never before known. High art and culture everywhere prevailed.

It was during the supremacy of the Ashikaga Shoguns that the geisha first became popular in Japan, and the musical instrument termed the samisen was introduced from the Loo-Choo islands. The earliest trace to be met with of the use of this species of guitar is contained in a history of events for the year 1558, and it has been suggested that the Loo-Choo people obtained the instrument from the Spaniards who came to the Philippines in 1520, and continued their voyage under Magellan northward as far as Nafa. But this view of the samisen’s origin is not entirely concurred in by Japanese archæologists who hold that it is improbable, for many reasons, that it is merely a bad copy of the guitar. The Loochooans called it the Jamisen, and used it to scare away snakes, because its sound was, as they declared, much like the cry of the mongoose (ichneumon), which is the implacable enemy of the serpent tribe. Possibly this explanation of the purpose which their special instrument of music was made of old to serve may not altogether commend itself to the geisha body to-day, and it would appear to be more probable that snake’s skin was stretched on the drum where ordinarily vellum is employed,—in more recent time cat’s skin has been used,—and that ja = serpent, and mi = body, sen = strings, may be the actual derivation of the name, though as written now in Japan it might mean “three dainty threads.” The geisha’s office was to sing, dance, play the samisen or other musical instrument, to pour out wine for the guests, and generally to infuse gaiety and good humour among the convives, her title of gei = accomplishments, and sha = exponent, sufficiently indicating the nature of the services she was engaged to render. She was, in fact, a professional entertainer, and in the luxurious days of the Ashikaga Shogunate she became fashionable, and has never lost her popularity. Her taste in dress is considered to be unapproachable, her coiffure is a triumph of the hairdresser’s art,—the recognised style being some form or other of the “shimada,” a fashion brought to the capital centuries ago from the town of Shimada, a railway station midway between Tokio and Kioto,—she is entirely her own mistress, and often lives in her own house, though in the majority of cases she dwells with others and has an agent who makes contracts for her. Her attractions may draw patrons and benefit the landlord, as he is quick to perceive, of the restaurant to which she may choose to attach herself, and if she should be summoned to a house or to take part in an entertainment to which she does not care to go, she is at perfect liberty to decline the invitation. Anything less resembling the life of slavery that it is sometimes represented to be it would be difficult to imagine. Her singing and dancing are usually remunerated at a fixed price per half-hour, varying according to her status as an accomplished entertainer, and she is not infrequently called upon to display her abilities to a party composed exclusively of ladies, whose wish it may be, like that of the other sex, to beguile the tedium of a winter evening by her witty conversation and her skill in music. Finally it must be added that a geisha of good repute is more sought after than one whose morality is deemed to be somewhat lax. In any case her character is always known to the police, for it is the rule that she must take out a licence as an entertainer, and the Chief Superintendent of the Section, in handing the document to her, commonly adds some words of fatherly admonition to avoid the many pitfalls that of necessity lie in her path.

The nation once more experienced the miseries of civil strife towards the close of the sixteenth century, this time by reason of the introduction of a religion which differed from that which had been dominant in Japan for twenty-three centuries, and likewise from that Buddhism which had found its way eastward 1000 years before from India. The Portuguese had obtained the right, under the Ashikaga rule, to settle in Japan, and in 1542 they brought with them,—what were altogether strange at that time to the Ten-shi’s people,—firearms, and the doctrines of the Roman Catholic faith. The keen desire manifested by the Jesuits to make proselytes speedily provoked the antagonism of the Buddhist and Shinto priesthoods, but, as was the case in China, the climax seems to have been reached only with the assumption by the new-comers of political power. To such pretensions the ruling house at Yedo could but oppose all its strength, and the patriotism of the country asserted itself in the form of a persecution that left no stone unturned in the effort to rid the land of a direct menace to its existence as an independent monarchy, secure from the influences of the Church of Rome. But the expulsion of the visitors was not accomplished until many years after the supremacy of the Ashikaga line had been successfully challenged by Nobunaga, and to the renowned Hideyoshi,—the Taiko-sama, or Great general,—had succeeded the scarcely less famous Iyeyasu, “the Law-giver,” who founded the Toku-gawa dynasty of Shoguns, and himself to all intents and purposes governed the country, from his accession in 1603 to the post of Sei-I-Tai-Sho-Gun, to his death in 1616, for though nominally he gave way to his third son, Hidetada, in 1605, he really ruled in his son’s name, and retained the executive power in his own hands. His ostensible retirement was due to his desire for leisure to frame his system of laws for the better government of the empire, and he drew up a scheme for the effective subordination of the provincial dai-mios, or feudatories, to the ruling authority at Yedo, which remained in force until the Restoration of direct sovereign rule, in 1868.

The Shogun Iyeyasu was descended from the Minamoto family, and the name Toku-gawa, lit.: stream of blessings, is said to have been taken from a river and village of the same name in the province of Shimo-tsuke, and not far from the celebrated Nikko Shrines. On the banks of the little Tokugawa the Shogun’s ancestors had dwelt, as farmers, for centuries, but the father of Iyeyasu,—Toku-gawa Shiro,—lived in the village of Matsudaira, in the province of Mikawa, which borders on the Pacific, about midway between Kobé and Yokohama. Here the “Law-giver” was born in 1542, the year that the Portuguese voyager, Mendez Pinto, first set foot on the soil of Japan. Iyeyasu fought under Nobunaga, and Hideyoshi, and ultimately succeeded the renowned Tai-ko Sama in the supreme command of the military forces, occupying thereafter the position of Sei-I-Tai-Sho-Gun. Iyeyasu first acquired property in his native province of Mikawa, and all his early associations were with that region, so much so that his opponents in after years were accustomed to allude to him somewhat slightingly as the “man from Mikawa.” When Iyeyasu obtained the position of Shogun in 1603 he elevated his birthplace to a position of honour by conferring its name as an extra title on many of his supporters, and down to the date of the abolition of such territorial distinctions there were not a few prominent dai-mios who thus preserved their connection with the Tokugawa regime from the beginning of its supremacy. The traces were to be found in titles such as “Nabeshima Matsudaira Hizen no Kami”—the baron Nabeshima Matsudaira of Hizen province,—Kuroda Matsudaira the dai-mio of Chikuzen,—and a host of others. In accord with the plans formulated by Tokugawa Iyeyasu every one among the number, some 300 in all, of the provincial barons was personally required to spend a moiety of each year in residence at his Yashiki in Yedo, and to leave his family there for the other six months,—the Yashikis being town mansions dotted about the capital in which a semi-regal state was kept up, and where the barons were surrounded by hundreds of their own retainers, ready to do their chieftain’s bidding on the instant. The remnants of these mansions are still to be found in modern Tokio, but they were in great part utilised, on the Restoration of Imperial rule, as Government offices and barracks for the troops of the army then about to be formed on Western lines. One of the most remarkable of these mansions of Old Yedo was that occupied by the Mito family, and it still retains much of its ancient splendour, inasmuch as it has been converted into a public park, and its magnificent gardens are maintained at the expense of the State, while the buildings and site of the historic residence of the Mito princes have been made over to the military for the purposes of an arsenal. It was part of Iyeyasu’s plan to adequately provide for the preservation of the Tokugawa line in the office of Shogun, and to that end he conferred upon three of his sons dukedoms in Owari, Kishiu, and Mito respectively. These three provinces are somewhat widely separated, for Owari is the region of which the flourishing city of Nagoya is at the present day the centre,—Kishiu is the province that borders the Kî channel at the eastern entrance to the Inland Sea,—and the Mito territory was that which is situated north-east of Tokio, and to the north of the river Toné, where it enters the Pacific near Cape Inuboye. Kishiu is now known as Wakayama Ken or Prefecture, Owari is Aichi Ken, and Mito is now Ibaraki Ken, though the boundaries do not exactly correspond with the ancient frontiers. The tripartite grant of territory to his seventh, eighth, and ninth sons respectively under this arrangement was accompanied by the proviso that in the event of the failure of the direct line the Shogun should be chosen from among the cadets of one or other of these families. In after years it frequently became needful to fall back on the wisely ordained succession thus laid down at the beginning of Iyeyasu’s reign at Yedo, wise in the sense that the extinction of the line was provided against, though it was not always possible to make a selection that met with the approval of all parties, since it sometimes happened that more than one branch of the Tokugawa house was ready with a candidate for the post of honour. It will presently be seen that a difficulty arose in this respect only a few years prior to the abolition of the Shogun’s office altogether, and which was not disposed of without many heart-burnings.

Some idea may be formed of the scale of magnificence on which the feudal system inaugurated during Iyeyasu’s tenure of the Shogunal office was based from the subjoined table of the barons’ revenues. For convenience’ sake I have added the approximate value of the koku of rice, in terms of which the incomes were formerly calculated, at the prices ruling in Japan for that commodity at the present day.

ANNUAL INCOMES OF THE BARONS UNDER THE SHOGUNATE

At the time of Iyeyasu the total revenue of the Empire was calculated to be equal to 28,900,000 koku of rice, out of which he distributed 20,000,000 of koku among those daimios and other dignitaries who were closely attached to the Tokugawa house, and retained 8,900,000 koku for the support of his own household and the maintenance of Government in Yedo. From this immense sum he also had to make, it must be borne in mind, suitable grants to the Court at Kioto, including the privy purse, and it was incumbent on the Shogun at all times to secure to the Emperor ample funds for the support of the imperial dignity and honour. In former years this duty had not invariably been executed on a fitting scale of liberality, the Ashikaga Shoguns in particular having made it a point to keep the Emperors poor. Under the regime of the Tokugawa, however, this had never been a cause of complaint, and in the days of Iyeyasu especially the apportionments of revenue to the service of the Court were made on a satisfactory basis. The repair of roads, and the cost of local administration in general, were matters to which the Daimios were expected to give attention without any allowances beyond those made from headquarters, their own incomes having in the majority of cases been ample for all purposes.

Following these eighteen “kokushiu daimios” ranked the eighteen “Ka-mon” (Members of the family) who were all relatives of the Tokugawa house, and bore the name of Matsudaira, the revenues they enjoyed ranging from 10,000 to 200,000 koku.

Next to the Ka-mon were the “To-sama” (outside lords) with incomes of 10,000 to 100,000 koku. They numbered from 90 to 100. These were representatives of collateral branches of the Kokushiu or greater barons, but were “outside” the Tokugawa.

After the “To-sama” ranked the “Fu-dai” (successive generations) and of these there were 115 families, with revenues ranging from 10,000 to 350,000 koku. The fu-dai were the main support of the Tokugawa house under the Shogunate regime.

It is not surprising to know that the feudal castles of these numerous barons were at one time to be counted by the hundred, or that many are still extant.

Among the Fudai families ranked two which became exceptionally conspicuous in the later days of the Tokugawa Shogunate,—as will presently appear, one for the defection of its chief to the opposing side in the battle of Fushimi in 1868, the other, on the contrary, for the sturdy loyalty which the head of the house exhibited to the engagements which on behalf of the Tokugawa Shogun he, as Regent, had entered into with the nations of the West. The first was Todo, the chieftain of Tsu, in Isé, whose followers went over to the imperialists and turned the scale against the Tokugawas,—the other the famous Ii Kamon-no-kami, who was killed in Tokio by political assassins in 1860. These two barons were the richest of the Fu-dai, each having a rent roll valued at half-a-million sterling.

When Iyeyasu the Law-giver died in 1616 his first resting-place was at the temple of Kunozan, in the province of Suruga, which adjoins his own native province of Mikawa. The mount of Kuno is close to the port of Shimidzu, in Suruga Gulf, and the temple is approached by many flights of stone steps, and looks out immediately on the broad Pacific, the impressive solitude of the spot being broken only by the occasional visits of bands of pilgrims coming from far-distant parts of Japan to pay their respects at the shrine. The wooden structures betray the ravages of time, notwithstanding that the contributions of the faithful are devoted to the preservation of this and like edifices which possess for the Ten-shi’s subjects deep historic interest, and the peculiar sanctity of the fane in Japanese estimation is doubtless heightened by the claim made for it by the attendant priests that it still holds the heart of the great Shogun though the rest of his remains were transferred to Nikko in 1617. Nikko, the incomparable Nikko, lit.: Sun’s Effulgence,—is so well known to Occidental travellers that a lengthy description of its glories would here be superfluous, and it need only be mentioned, perhaps, that the splendid cryptomeria-bordered highways met with on the journey thither were equally with his code of laws a part of “Iyeyasu’s Legacy” to the nation, inasmuch as it was with a wish to afford the millions who in after years might traverse the roads of Niphon that protection from its fierce summer suns which might be derived from spreading shade trees that the founder of the Tokugawa house caused those magnificent avenues to be planted and maintained. The tomb at Nikko to which his body was removed from Kunozan in March 1617 was regularly visited by the occupants, each in his turn, of Yedo Castle, but only the founder’s grandson Iyemitsu, who completed the work of building Nikko, and also of the original Uyeno temples at Yedo, rests beside Iyeyasu in this sacred spot. The other Shoguns of the Tokugawa line were interred in the capital, six at Uyeno, and six at Zozoji in Shiba, and on the “Rock of the Dead,” as the hill at Nikko is named on which these heroes of Old Japan repose, only the mausolea of the First and Third of the Tokugawa Shoguns are to be found. But there is that in the surroundings of the lonely graves on the crest of Hotoké-Iwa that is absent even in the gorgeous edifices which stand within those famous groves of pine and cedar that envelop the base of the mountain, and in the simplicity of the unadorned tombs, with their moss-covered approaches, and the time-worn balustrades which surround the peaceful courtyard, with its few bronze urns and incense-burners, there is grandeur unmistakable, and a dignity which no wealth of embellishment ever could confer. Iyeyasu in his lifetime wielded practically regal sway, and he and his successors of the Tokugawa dynasty of Shoguns were de facto rulers in Japan, and obtained their investiture direct from the Ten-shi who was de jure ruler at the ancient capital of Kioto, while they, as vicegerents, held their semi-imperial courts at Yedo.

The rise of the military power dates from the days of Hideyoshi, whose ambition it was to subjugate Korea and add the peninsula to the Empire of Japan. But all his efforts, from one cause and another, were frustrated, and when in 1598 he died, after six years of ineffectual strife, the idea was for a time abandoned, his successor, Iyeyasu, as we have already seen, choosing the path of internal reform as that by which he would seek fame, rather than that of foreign conquest. Hideyoshi had restored order to the land, and it was for his successor in the exalted office to consolidate and strengthen the influence which the Taiko had acquired with the feudatory chiefs, and to carry onward to complete fulfilment the work of centralisation so boldly begun. Hidetada, as the second Shogun, followed in his father’s footsteps, though his tastes lay rather in the direction of art, but it was reserved for Iyemitsu to perfect Iyeyasu’s policy, and it was by Iyemitsu that Japan was closed for the time to foreign intercourse. In 1617 all Japanese ports excepting Hirado and Nagasaki were barred to strangers, and four years later the subjects of the Ten-shi were forbidden to visit foreign lands. In 1624 all foreigners save the Dutch and the English were banished from Japan;—and in 1637 there took place the terrible massacre of Christian converts at Shimabara in Kiushiu. By 1638 aliens of every sort save the Dutch had been expelled, and the Hollanders remained only on promise of faithful compliance with severe restrictive laws, and at the sacrifice in great measure of their personal liberty. Christianity, it was supposed, had been rooted out, but it was found in after years to have survived to some degree, in the vicinity of Nagasaki, the persecution to which its adherents were subjected.

Thus though the Anti-Christian edicts were promulgated during the latter part of Iyeyasu’s life it was by his grandson, who succeeded Hidetada, that the policy of extermination was resolutely carried into effect. How far the action of the Shogunate was prompted at this time by the dread of foreign encroachment is to be gathered from the proclamations issued at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Hideyoshi, moreover, is said to have paid more attention than it deserved to the idle boast of the Portuguese that it was the practice of their monarch to first send missionaries to convert the natives of a country to his own religion and next to send an army which, aided by the converts, contrived to overrun the land and add it to his dominions. Iyemitsu said in reference to this report:—

“If my dynasty perishes in consequence of civil wars, this is a disgrace which falls only on me: but if only an inch of our territory were to fall into foreign hands, the whole nation would have cause to be ashamed.”

Under the Tokugawa regime the influence of the military caste was predominant, and the samurai ranked next to the nobles, but all samurai were not of equal rank, for the spearmen were of higher grade than the men who fought with firearms, and the mounted man ranked above his comrade who fought on foot. Among the retainers of the barons a hatamoto, as he was termed, was a person who had command of as many, in some cases, as thirty foot-soldiers, and held a position akin to that of captain in the modern army. Hatamoto signified “under the flag,” each company having its own distinctive banner inscribed with its number and place of origin. The hatamochi was the actual standard-bearer from Hata, a banner, and Mochi, to hold. The ashi-garu (lit.: light of foot) was the lowest rank of samurai of the feudal times, and the man who carried a gun was less entitled to respect, according to that rigid code of honour which was so jealously guarded by the knighthood of Japan, than the man who met his enemy with the sword,—foot to foot, and hand to hand. It was doubtless to be ascribed to a survival of this feeling that in the Satsuma Rebellion of 1877 the followers of Marshal Saigo were ever anxious to come to close quarters with their foes, and often threw away their rifles in order the better to wield their treasured swords. The warrior trained in the old school had nothing but contempt for the method of fighting which enabled a man to hurl missiles at an enemy from a comparatively safe distance. The samurai’s principles led him to challenge his adversary to mortal combat in the open field, but were averse to anything which might be construed as seeking an undue advantage. With the military caste uppermost, and the farmers ranking next in order of precedence, then the artisans, and lastly the tradesmen or traffickers in wares of whatever description, with a lower class still of genuine outcasts, distinguished as Eta (the tanners) or Hi-nin (not men) the people of Japan led a more or less contented life of seclusion from the outer world until the arrival on their coasts of Commodore Perry’s ships in 1853, though it would be wrong to imagine that there had not arisen in the land in all those years a spirit of inquiry concerning the mode of life which prevailed among other nations. On the contrary, and more particularly towards the end of the Tokugawa epoch, thoughtful men had come to the front with proposals for enlightened government, earnestly advocating the adoption of some system that should be more in accord with what was dimly conceived to be the age of progress that had dawned in the other hemisphere, vague reports of which had reached the hidden East through various channels.

It was while Iyeyasu virtually ruled Japan, and before his son Hidetada had been invested with the Shogunal authority, that a shipwrecked English mariner, Will Adams of Rotherhithe, won his way to favour by his abilities, mainly in the direction of shipbuilding, and attained to high rank in the service of the Shogunate. The East India Company, a few years later (June, 1613), established a depot at Hirado, in Spex Straits, not far from Nagasaki, where the Dutchmen had been earlier in the field. Adams learned that some of his countrymen were resident at Hirado, and journeyed thither overland at the Shogun Iyeyasu’s command to see them. He found the little colony in charge of Captain John Saris, whose diary has afforded much information concerning the mode of life of the pioneers of British trade in their remote settlement in the then little-known “Zipangu” of Portuguese navigators, and Adams himself left some few written traces of his remarkable career which have been carefully preserved, and are of the utmost value as throwing light on the manners of that period when the feudal system was in full force. On retiring nominally from the control of affairs in favour of Hidetada, in 1605, Iyeyasu had taken up his abode at Shidzuoka, then called Sumpu, and thither Adams brought Saris to have audience of the great Chieftain, by special desire. Captain Saris had been made the bearer of a letter from King James I. of England to the Emperor (Shogun) of Japan, which was delivered in due course at Shidzuoka. The English sovereign had expressed his desire that commercial relations should be established between Britain and Japan. Saris and Adams saw both Iyeyasu and Hidetada, and the project was well received. A charter was granted, in pursuance of which the English were to enjoy as much freedom of trade as the Dutchmen then in Nagasaki, the document comprising eight clauses, and constituting the first “Anglo-Japanese Agreement” of history. Unhappily the venture of the East India Company, in whose favour the charter was given, did not turn out so satisfactorily from a monetary point of view as could have been wished, and eventually the factory that had been established at Hirado, was closed, and the British withdrew, not again to seek commercial privileges until 1856. Saris placed Captain Cocks in charge of the Hirado depot and returned to London to report to the East India Company the success of his mission, and Cocks remained until the withdrawal from Hirado in 1623.

Adams never returned to his own country, and died in his own house at Hemi village, where his grave, with that of his Japanese wife, is to be seen on the hill above the modern naval station of Yokosuka, a few miles south of Yokohama, in the Gulf of Tokio. He had taught his friends at Yedo the art of building ships on the Occidental model, and it is recorded that many of his vessels were employed in over-sea trade to the Philippines, Siam, Cochin China, and Mexico. But the law of 1621 prohibiting the use of decked ocean-going craft brought about a return to the ancient form of junk with a single mast. The construction of decked sailing boats has only of late years been revived in connection with the fisheries of Yeso and the quest of the seal and sea-otter, off the Kuriles archipelago. After the East India Company closed its factory at Hirado trade was still further restricted, and in obedience to an edict of 1641, the Dutch were finally confined to the islet of Deshima, in Nagasaki harbour, and all other foreigners were ordered to quit the country. Saris had long before returned home,—Adams had been dead for years,—and little or nothing occurred for two centuries to remind the Western world of the existence of the far-off Japanese Empire.

Throughout this interval the feudal system flourished and the Shogunate was at the zenith of its power. Every daimio nominally owned allegiance to the Ten-shi’s deputy at Yedo, but there had been murmurings against the feudal rule long before the American ships made their appearance at the entrance to the Bay of Yedo in 1853. A few men, more daring than their fellows, had been bold enough to write and speak openly of their desire to see the ancient order of things re-established and of their hope that the Ten-shi would again in person regulate the affairs of his dominions. In most cases the would-be reformers had for their temerity lost their heads. But the leaven that they had introduced had begun to work, and when the Shogun Iyesada made the treaties with the Western nations under which Japan was reopened to foreign trade and intercourse the real basis of the opposition which he encountered, and which outlasted his own lifetime and that of his successor in the office of Shogun, was an antagonism to the Shogunate itself, and not to the strangers who sought to develop commerce with the Empire. Thus it came about that the truly progressive clans,—Satsuma, Choshiu, Tosa, and Hizen,—all of which had in some form or other availed themselves of foreign inventions in the form of rifles and other implements of warfare, or of steamships and gunboats and armaments, with the object, as it would seem, of strengthening their own positions, were to be found ranged under the banner of Jo-I, or “Expulsion of the Alien,” when with more candour their slogan might have been “Down with the Shogunate.” The Tokugawa side, on the other hand, was in favour of the resumption of foreign relations and maintained the advisability of pursuing the policy of kai-koku—i.e. opening the country—which Iyesada had initiated. Neither side was in actual fact antagonistic to foreigners, and no sooner had the Jo-I party attained its purpose in overthrowing those who had espoused the cause of the Shogun, than it at once adopted an attitude towards aliens which was in effect a complete ratification of the policy that had been adhered to by the Government of Yedo. The Sat-cho alliance to “expel the stranger” entered into between Satsuma and Choshiu at the end of 1861, or early in 1862,—a couple of years before the present Marquis Ito and his comrade Inouye Bunda, now Count Inouye, stole away to England,—was mainly designed to embarrass the Shogunate, and was by no means so reactionary as it at first appeared to be.

When Perry dropped anchor at Uraga it was the Shogun Iyeyoshi who sat on the Viceregal throne in Yedo, but he shortly afterwards died, and was buried in the cemetery attached to Zozoji temple in Shiba, where five other Shoguns of the Tokugawa line were interred, and when Perry came for the promised answer to the American President’s letter the Shogun Iyesada was in power. But soon afterwards his health failed him to the degree that he found it expedient to appoint a Regent in the person of the Go Tai-Ro (lit.: Honoured Great Elder)—i.e. Prime Minister of State under the Tokugawa Government—an office which was filled by the baron Naosuke Ii Kamon-no-kami, between whom and the feudal chieftain of Mito there were great differences of opinion in regard to the wisdom of the Kai-koku policy. For reasons which were never very clearly comprehended, Nari-aki, the senior lord of Mito, was all his life bitterly opposed to the influx of foreigners, and when in 1860 the Regent was assassinated at the Sakurada Gate of Yedo castle the crime was perpetrated by men who had once been retainers of the Mito family, but had voluntarily severed their connection therewith in order that the responsibility for the murder that they were resolved to commit should not be laid at the door of their lord. They banded themselves together as Ro-nins, or “Wave-men,” casting themselves as it were on the billows of adventure, and caring nothing whither they might drift in the political currents of the hour. Other Ro-nins made a midnight attack in 1861 on the then recently-established British Legation at Takanawa, a southern suburb of Yedo, and these were afterwards proved to have belonged previously to the Mito clan. The daimio Nari-aki died in 1862, and it was felt that one source of uneasiness had been removed from the path of those who were totally averse to the suggested expulsion of the subjects of foreign powers and repudiation of the compacts which had been entered into. But the assassinated Regent had had other enemies in the political world, for his appointment had never been favourably received by the Jo-I party (in reality the advocates of the restoration of direct imperial rule, and who only used Jo-I as a convenient battle-cry) and when, in 1858, the Shogun Iyesada died and his place was taken by the youthful Iyemochi, at that time only twelve years old, and the Regency of Ii Kamon no Kami was continued, the antagonism between the rival factions—one nominally pro-foreign and the other nominally anti-foreign, but neither of them seriously concerned with the foreigner so much as with the abrogation or retention of the feudal system,—grew more fierce and deep-seated than ever. The Mito clan, notwithstanding that its old prince Nari-aki had been violently anti-foreign, had in a general way given its support to the Shogun, but even in Mito dissensions arose, and the clansmen were divided among themselves. In proportion as these internal quarrels arose in the Shogun’s party its influence in the State declined and that of the party of the Mikado, as it was termed, gained strength. It must be understood that the reference here is not to the now-reigning Emperor but to his father, who occupied the throne until the year 1867. An imperial ordinance promulgated in 1862 abolished the old law made in the days of Iyeyasu whereby the feudal lords were obliged to spend half their time at the capital, and this repeal of a statute on which the Shogunate had relied for the preservation of its ascendency over the clans hastened, no doubt, the downfall of its authority. It was further weakened, it may be supposed, by the internecine strife that arose from the rivalries of the three branches of the Tokugawa house, for when Iyesada died it had been the ardent desire of the Mito prince to place his son Hitotsubashi Yoshinobu,—otherwise Tokugawa Keiki,—on the viceregal throne at Yedo, a wish that was thwarted by the Regent Ii Kamon no kami. The reason that Nari-aki’s son bore two names was that in the year 1848, when he was only eleven years old, he had been adopted into the family of the Owari branch of the Tokugawa family, which branch bore the surname of Hitotsubashi, while his other name could be read as either Keiki or Yoshinobu, the Chinese characters by which it was written being readable according to the Kan-On, or Chinese sounds as Keiki, while the Japanese equivalents of the same symbols are Yoshinobu. To the candidature of Nari-aki’s son the Regent would not agree, and carried his point in favour of Kikuchiyo, a prince of the Kishiu branch of the Tokugawa family, who took the name on his accession of Iyemochi. This prince was the thirteenth child of the XIth Shogun, and a cousin of the deceased Iyesada. The regent’s power at this period was equal to the effort of compelling Nari-aki to confine himself to his Yedo mansion, in a forced retirement which was tantamount to imprisonment, and similar steps were taken in regard to the princes of Owari, Hizen, Tosa, and Uwajima, who were opposed to the Regent’s policy. Tokugawa Keiki was forbidden to show himself at Yedo castle, and was ordered to remain in strict seclusion within his own abode.

Meanwhile the Emperor Komei, at Kioto, was being urged by the feudal lords of Tosa, Hizen, Sendai, Uwajima, and other provinces to abrogate the treaties which the Regent had made, to close the ports, and expel all strangers from the land, but Ii Kamon no kami was too strong for them to succeed in overthrowing him, and it will be understood that the representations of the Ministers of foreign powers already accredited to Japan in virtue of the treaties must all have tended to confirm the Regent in his resolution to abide by the terms of the compacts which he had entered into. This was in effect the situation in March 1860, when the ro-nins at the Sakurada Gate in Yedo put an end to the life of the Regent, and affairs were left in greater uncertainty than ever.

The baron Ii Kamon-no-kami Naosuke is considered to have been a genuinely patriotic statesman, one, moreover, who was able to realise the necessities of the hour and gifted with tact and resolution to carry his point. His persistence in the policy of kai-koku procured for him the undisguised antagonism of a very powerful faction, but he remained unshaken in his determination to adhere to the arrangements that had been entered into with foreign powers. The assassins responsible for his death had carried on their persons, as was customary with ro-nins bent on some notable deed, written declarations setting forth their motives, and declaring it to be their belief that the admission of aliens to the country spelt speedy ruin. His intimate friend, Baron Matsudaira of Yada, had sought to dissuade him from paying his customary visits to the Shogun, who dwelt within the inner moat of the castle, and in urging his request had even endeavoured to hold the Regent back by grasping the sleeve of his robe, a scrap of the material being torn away in the effort, so vehement were Matsudaira’s representations of the impending danger. That was on the 21st of February, a fortnight before the murder was actually perpetrated, so that Ii Kamon-no-kami was perfectly conscious of the risk he ran in continuing to perform his daily duty at the castle. His own residence was just outside the second moat, and he had only quitted it a few minutes when, at nine o’clock on the morning of the third of the third month (April 5th according to the Gregorian calendar), he received several sword-thrusts as he sat in his palanquin, and died immediately. The day was one on which his enemies were sure that he would be passing that way early, as it was one of the great annual festivals (Sekku) when the princes and barons invariably went to the palace to pay their respects and offer the congratulations appropriate to the season. Their retinues included numerous swordsmen, and their processions were characterised by a pomp almost unimaginable to-day, with scores of trusty henchmen, their lords’ crests prominently displayed on their helmets and their banners and insignia borne aloft, marching on either side the palanquin to guard their chief. The Regent’s cortege was at the Sakurada Gate when the attack was delivered, and the falling snow had led the retainers to keep their sword-hilts covered, so that there was a fatal delay in encountering the ro-nins, who, moreover, were disguised as peasants, and wore rain-coats to conceal their weapons. Eight of the Regent’s men were killed, and three of the ro-nins were slain on the spot, eight more being brought to execution at a later date. The whole thing was the work of but a few minutes, and the band no doubt had a confederate who was skilled in heraldry watching at the gate, ready to announce the baron’s approach, and able to distinguish his procession by the device on the banners which some of his retinue bore.

The Regent was forty-five years old at the time of his death, having been born in 1815, the fourteenth son of the baron Naonaka. The Ii family is a very old one, an ancestor having aided in the subjugation of the rebels, so termed,—presumably the Ainus,—in the island of Yeso, between A.D. 987 and 1011, when the Emperor Ichijo was on the throne. The name Ii is taken from the spot not far from Hamana inlet, in Totomi province, called Ii-dani, or the valley of Ii, whereat the first baron built a castle in the eighth century. But having been appointed protector of the city of Kioto, one of the baron’s ancestors had removed to Hikoné, on Lake Biwa, to be nearer his charge, and thus it came about that Ii Kamon-no-kami was Lord of Hikoné at the period when he became Regent, and dwelt at the Hikoné Yashiki in Yedo. The baron Ii bequeathed to the nation a couplet illustrative of his real patriotism, a quality which even those who were opposed to his policy never failed to recognise as part of his noble nature. It runs:—

“Omi no mi kishi utsu nami no iku tabi mo,

Miyo ni kokoro wo kudaki nuru kana!”

(Rent as the wave-beat rocks on Omi’s strand

My broken heart, for our belovéd Land!)

Lake Biwa, on which stands Hikoné, is often in poetry termed the Sea of Omi. It washes the shore of what in feudal times were the lord of Hikoné’s estates.

At the time when the dissensions between the supporters of the Bakufu and the nominally anti-foreign faction were at their height, the young Shogun was but fifteen years old, and was able to render his party but little help in the crisis in its fortunes which had been reached. An effort was made to bring about a fusion of the interests by the marriage of the Shogun to the Mikado’s sister, the Princess Kazu, on 11th March 1862, the hope being that it might thus be feasible to present a united front to the incursions of the Westerners, but the union failed for the time being to have any political results in the direction anticipated, and the divergence of views on the question of the admission of strangers remained as pronounced as at first. In this attempt to reconcile the conflicting interests of parties the prince of Satsuma, acting through his uncle, Shimadzu Saburo, and on the advice of Saigo Takamori and Okubo Toshimichi, elsewhere referred to in this book, had exerted all his influence but without avail. On the other hand a vast amount of jealousy was created between the Chiefs of Satsuma and Choshiu, for the Baron Mori, the lord of Choshiu, was at this time wholly in favour of the expulsion of foreigners.

Matters were in this condition, when the least spark might lead to an explosion, in the summer of 1863, at the moment when the Shogun, possibly as a consequence of the Kioto Court influence brought to bear through his connection by marriage with the imperial house, decided to proceed to the Mikado’s capital and submit himself entirely to the Emperor Komei’s commands. He expressed his concurrence in the Court party’s views on the subject of the abrogation of the treaties, and was willing that the aliens should be driven out of the land. Whether he was sincere in this attitude or not is a question that it is not easy to answer, but at all events there was a personal quarrel at Kioto between the young Shogun and Mori, the Choshiu chieftain, which ended disastrously for Mori, who was sent down by the Emperor Komei to his own dominions in the west and Iyemochi remained in favour. The Choshiu clan was from that hour in direct antagonism to the Shogun’s party, and the baron Mori’s retainers were so indignant at what they considered to be the insult put upon their lord at Kioto that they marched to that city and attacked it The present ruler of Japan was only very young at the time, and it was a novel experience, no doubt, to hear the rattle of musketry in close proximity to the palace walls. The Choshiu clansmen were encountered and worsted by the soldiers of the Shogun, who had been ordered by imperial edict to punish Choshiu for the outrage, and at the same time the chief of the insubordinate clan was by the Emperor’s command deposed.

The Choshiu baron remained obdurate, and in pursuance of his hostile attitude towards foreigners, and presumably with the idea of embroiling the Shogun’s government with Western powers, he persevered in the practice, despite all remonstrance, of firing on such vessels as attempted to pass the Straits of Shimonoseki. He set the Shogun’s authority completely at defiance, and raised in the south-west of Japan the standard of revolt. At the head of a numerous army the Choshiu leaders, one of whom was the present Marshal Yamagata, again set out for Kioto, and were met by the Shogun’s forces led by Iyemochi himself, who was certainly not deficient in courage, though his health, even at that time, was far from satisfactory. The series of engagements which followed terminated badly for the Shogun’s supporters, for the Choshiu men were better armed, and had been drilled on something like Western principles, as the result of a study of military books translated from the Dutch. They also bore rifles of the “Tower” and other patterns which probably had been brought to Japan from Europe, by way of China.

The first step towards the fall of the Shogunate had in reality been taken when the admission was made that the power of the Shogun had its limitations, for the doctrine which had prevailed for centuries, and to which the supremacy of the Tokugawa house was traceable, was that the holder of this high office enjoyed complete freedom of action without reference to the monarch at Kioto and was to all intents and purposes the executive head of the State. The visit paid to Kioto by the Shogun Iyemochi at the instigation of the imperial counsellors struck at the root of this theory of absolute power and led to the open revolt of some of the provincial magnates against the authority of the Bakufu, a title, by the way, which, as applied to the Yedo Government, sufficiently demonstrated its military character, since Baku signified the curtain which was used in camp to screen the Generalissimo’s quarters from the vulgar gaze, and Fu meant “seat of government.” Once the principle became admitted that the Shogun was like other of the nation’s most puissant nobles, only a vassal of the Ten-shi, the way was paved in a measure for the restoration of the real monarch to the exercise of his rightful prerogatives and the re-establishment of that direct rule which had existed in former years prior to the usurpation of regal power by the Ashikaga and Tokugawa Shoguns. It may be said, therefore, that the thin end of the wedge with which the fabric of the Yedo government was ultimately to be sundered and overthrown was inserted in 1863. The actual outcome of the Shogun’s visit to Kioto was the issue of an imperial notification to the Ministers of Foreign Powers at Yedo that all strangers would be expelled from the Empire. The announcement came from the Department for Foreign Affairs in the Bakufu, and was to the effect that the orders which had been received by the Shogun from Kioto were peremptory, and required the closing of the recently opened ports. The foreigners were to be driven out, because the people of Japan were not desirous of holding intercourse with foreign countries. The Minister added that the discussion of this subject had been left to him “by his Majesty,” by which term was meant the Shogun, who had figured in the early treaties,—that for example made by the Earl of Elgin on behalf of Queen Victoria, dated 26th August 1858,—as “his Majesty the Tycoon of Japan.” The Shogun’s government was at this time trying to sit on two stools simultaneously, for while the notification was given to the foreign representatives in obedience to the orders received from Kioto there was palpably no intention of giving effect to them in any shape, even had the Bakufu then possessed the strength requisite to bring about the strangers’ exclusion. On this point the presence of war vessels at Yokohama warranted the Bakufu officials in entertaining serious doubts. At all events the Shogun’s Government soon afterwards had to express regret for the deplorable affair near Tsurumi, on the highroad from Yokohama to Yedo, when an Englishman lost his life, and in offering an apology the Bakufu expressed a hope that nothing might again arise to imperil the friendly relations between Britain and Japan. When it was urged that the murderers should be brought to justice the Bakufu was fain to acknowledge that it had not the power to punish the Satsuma clan which had been guilty of the crime, and thereupon Admiral Kuper was sent to Kagoshima to bombard the Satsuma chieftain’s forts. The engagement took place on the 11th of August, a fortnight before the Elgin treaty was signed at Yedo, the breach between the Shogun and the southern clans being at that time practically complete. The bombardment spurred the Satsuma clan to the attainment of greater military strength, for their leaders were quick to grasp the importance which Satsuma would acquire, in connection with those coming events which even then were casting long shadows athwart the political path, by being first in the field with approximately efficient naval and military forces. Western appliances were imported and foreign inventions largely drawn upon to increase Satsuma’s effective strength, and from being hostile to foreigners the attitude of the clansmen became almost friendly, a circumstance that was partly due, it may have been, to the consciousness of the Satsuma leaders that in spite of their antiquated weapons they had made no mean fight of it when assailed in their stronghold by the modern British ships of war.

The waning Shogunate had despatched a mission to Europe the previous year to beg for an extension of time in regard to those provisions of the treaties which included the opening of additional ports to foreign trade, for it was felt that the Bakufu had trouble enough on its hands without arousing further opposition by the fulfilment of the strict letter of the compacts which had been entered into with the Western powers. That mission was successful inasmuch as the opening of Kobé-Hiogo was postponed until the 1st of January 1868, and the British Government gave assurances of its unwillingness to take any steps that might embarrass the Government of the Shogun. But a fresh source of trouble had speedily developed itself in Choshiu, by the baron’s arbitrary treatment of shipping at Shimonoseki, and when, after the united squadrons of the Western powers had compelled the defenders of the forts in the straits to haul down their flag, and an indemnity had been exacted, the Bakufu became more than ever discredited, and its downfall accelerated. As with Satsuma, so with Choshiu, the fighting led to the foes becoming far better friends than had seemed to be possible, and in 1864 the baron Mori signified his willingness that any of his ports in Choshiu should be opened to the commerce of the strangers. It was not until many years after this that Shimonoseki was actually opened, but the delay was not due to the reluctance of the clan. During those prolonged contests with the Bakufu the clans of Satsuma and Choshiu were secretly allied, and the rivalry which might have been utilised to enable the Shogunate to triumph over Choshiu by enlisting the help of the Satsuma clan in the execution of the imperial command given to the Shogun Iyemochi to punish Choshiu was not in reality to be obtained by reason of this private compact between the two daimios. The bond of union was, of course, a common desire to bring about the abolition of the Viceregal office and restore the personal rule of the Emperor. The abstention of the Satsuma clan from interference on the side of the Shogunate probably saved the Choshiu clan from the defeat that would otherwise, it is to be believed, have overtaken them in the end. It was the policy of the Satsuma chieftain to allow the Shogunate to be worsted.

Difficulties multiplied, and the Shogun Iyemochi had taken up his residence in the castle of Osaka, after paying a second visit to the Emperor at Kioto, at the end of 1864, so the foreign ministers had to journey thither when they desired to communicate personally with him in his retreat. By this time some of the more powerful among the provincial daimios had fallen away from their allegiance to the Shogun, and had ceased to attend the Court at Yedo or to reside there during the prescribed six months of the year. Satsuma, for instance, did not occupy his yashiki after September 1862, until he paid it a visit in the early seventies, and others among the Yedo mansions of the provincial lords remained unoccupied from that time forward until they were turned to account as Government offices after the Restoration. The Shogun’s entourage lost the pomp and circumstance of state in 1864, with the removal of his retinue to Osaka, and the internecine strife which culminated in the battle of Uyeno in 1868 was entered upon soon afterwards.

In 1866, however, while the Shogun’s men were contending for the mastery with the retainers of Choshiu, the Emperor Komei decided to ratify the treaties that the Shogun had made, and thenceforward the relations of the Bakufu with the representatives of Occidental powers were characterised by greater cordiality than had for some time past existed. The British Minister, Sir Harry Parkes, who had succeeded Sir Rutherford Alcock at Yedo, sent Messrs Mitford and Satow to Osaka with a message to the Shogun, and the mission ended with mutual satisfaction; the Shogun wrote to the Emperor at Kioto urging the opening of the port of Kobé-Hiogo to trade as early as practicable. The Emperor Komei finally gave his consent, and even expressed himself at this time as favourably disposed towards the fulfilment of the treaties. The right of native merchants to hire foreign vessels to trade either at the open ports or abroad was established in 1866, and thus Japanese foreign trade was set free from the restrictions which had checked its development.

As an illustration of the amicable relations which had by this time grown up between the Japanese authorities and foreigners, it may be related how, on the 21st of March 1866, 800 samurai troops, under the command of Kubota Sentaro, marched out of Yokohama in company with the British from the camp on the Bluff for a field day in the country towards Kamakura. The Japanese soldiers who thus for the first time in the history of the two nations bore their part in an Anglo-Japanese Alliance were men belonging to the Shogun’s forces, and their officers had acquired a knowledge of Western drill from their studies at the British camp, under the guidance of the officers of the Lancashire Fusiliers, then forming the garrison of the Yokohama foreign settlement. Less than two years before the Shogun’s troops had participated in similar manœuvres, but only to a very slight degree, as at that time the Japanese had been armed with the bow and arrow and wore chain armour, in the ancient style. Two years’ drill had made the Shogun’s men so efficient that their shooting with the rifle astonished the British spectators by its rapidity, and by the ease with which the men handled their weapons, comparatively unaccustomed as they undoubtedly then were to modern firearms. Among those who were in this way the pioneers of the Japanese modern military organisation were many personal friends of the first Ambassador to the Court of St James, Viscount Hayashi.

In August 1866, the Shogun Iyemochi, whose health had for a long time past been failing, died at Osaka, his end having been accelerated, it is beyond doubt, by the vicissitudes of the last year or two, and the effort demanded of him when personally taking the field at the head of his army against the troops of the contumacious lord of Choshiu. Notwithstanding the fast-growing power of the Shogunate’s political adversaries, the moment was scarcely fitting for attempting its entire overthrow, and in December of that year the Shogun Keiki, seventh son of the prince of Mito, a branch of the Tokugawa family, and adopted son of the Hitotsubashi family—i.e. the Owari branch of the same Tokugawa house—was duly invested with all the dignities of his exalted office. He had been nominated Shogun, as already explained, in 1858, by the then prince of Mito his father, but had been passed over owing to the strenuous opposition of the Regent, whose hostility to the Mito prince Nari-aki has been alluded to, and its effects described.

The newly appointed Shogun had had abundant opportunities of observing the gathering disposition of his countrymen to seek the restoration of the sovereign to the direct rule of his dominions and the abolition of the system of government by delegate which had for two and a half centuries prevailed. The transfer of the active duties of government to the hands of the real monarch had become a matter easy of accomplishment, moreover, by reason of the fact that the policy of the Kioto Government and that of the Shogun no longer differed in respect of the treatment of the foreigners who sought to establish intimate diplomatic and commercial relations with Japan.

In January 1867, the Emperor Komei fell a victim to smallpox, five weeks after he had appointed Tokugawa Keiki to the office of Shogun. Though the Bakufu was declining rapidly, the hour had not arrived for its final extinction, but no one could better judge of the hopelessness of the situation, perhaps, than the Shogun Keiki, who had for several years acted as guardian to the late occupant of the position, and had been also Minister of Justice (Giyobukiyo) in the time of Iyesada.

Despite the patriotic willingness of the Shogun Keiki to recognise from the very outset the need which was beginning to be felt of a thoroughly unified administration, the northern clans, which had been faithful to the Tokugawa house and had ever made its cause their own, were far from being reconciled to the reorganisation of the government as it was sought to constitute it, and appealed to arms against the domination of the Satsuma and Choshiu combination that had by this time obtained vast influence at Court. Civil war followed, but the strife was desultory in character until the later months of the year, by which time the Shogun had satisfied himself of his inability to effectively chastise the recalcitrant lord of Choshiu, and was compelled to accept defeat. As, moreover, his position as Shogun was manifestly under such conditions intolerable, he tendered to the Emperor his resignation of the office that had been in his family for 264 years.

The Prince of Tosa had returned to his castle at Kochi in October 1867, and had written to the Shogun in the following terms:—

“It appears to me that although the government and penal laws have been administered by the military class ever since the Middle Ages, yet since the arrival of foreigners we have been squabbling amongst ourselves, and much public discussion has been excited. The East and the West have risen in arms against each other, and civil war has never ceased, the effect being to draw on us the insults of foreign nations.

The cause of this lies in the fact that the administration proceeds from two centres, and because the Empire’s ears and eyes are turned in two different directions. The march of events has brought about a revolution and the old system can no longer be obstinately persevered in.

You should restore the governing power into the hands of the sovereign, and so lay a foundation on which Japan may take its stand as the equal of all other countries. This is the most imperative duty of the present moment and is the heartfelt prayer of YODO.

Your Highness is wise enough to take this advice into consideration.”

The full name of the writer of this remarkable epistle was Yama-no-uchi Yodo, daimio of Tosa province.

It was not until the close of December 1867 that the Emperor received the formal abdication of the Shogun’s powers, and it was foreseen that among his adherents there would be many who would resist to the uttermost what they could but regard as their chieftain’s degradation, voluntary or otherwise. For the resignation of his prerogatives involved also the surrender of his lands and possessions, and his followers’ fortunes were so inseparably linked with his that it meant to them the deprivation in like manner of all those privileges on which they had thereunto placed the highest value. The Satsuma and Choshiu leaders were willing to avail themselves, however, of their proximity to the throne by seizing the person of the Emperor, and this coup d’état was carried out.

On the 3rd of January 1868, suddenly appeared an imperial edict giving to the three chiefs of Satsuma, Tosa, and Geishiu the charge of the Nine Gates of Kioto,—in other words the guardianship of the Emperor’s palace,—an office which had previously been held by the Lord of Aidzu, a northern province, and who ceased to occupy it by reason of his having espoused the cause of the Shogun in the Kai-koku versus Jo-I discussion.

It is due to Aidzu to acknowledge that the clan, from the time when, in 1862, it had been given the charge by the Shogun Iyemochi of the imperial city, had evinced the utmost loyalty and energy in its defence. In repelling the attack of the Choshiu men in 1864 the Aidzu chieftain’s retainers had shown the greatest bravery and determination, and as honest, staunch protectors of the Emperor’s person and guardians of the palace the clansmen had had no sympathy with the agitators who had sought to sow discord between the monarch and his deputy. Both sides, indeed, had reason to value the lord of Aidzu’s fidelity to the trust reposed in him. When, therefore, the edict appeared by which Aidzu was relieved of his functions, the adherents of the Shogunate were incensed, for they saw, or believed that they saw, in the coup d’état the clearest possible indications of a Satsuma and Choshiu intrigue. The rescript is remarkable as having definitely decreed the end of the old regime, and it brought about the ascendency of the southern clans, for which the way had been paved in great measure during the previous Emperor’s reign. The old distinctions between the court lords (kuge) and the territorial magnates were at one stroke swept away, new titles were introduced, and while some of the princes, the kuge, and many of the samurai, found places under the new regime, the adherents of the Tokugawa were for the most part dismissed from office and their positions given to men of the opposing side.

THE INTERIOR OF SHIBA TEMPLE

Acting under the authority of the sovereign, the perpetrators of the coup d’état proceeded to set up a provisional government, and the Shogun was directed to surrender his fiefs and hold himself entirely at the disposal of the Emperor, whose pleasure would in due course be made known to him. This decisive stroke was delivered by the combined agency of the leaders of the clans of Satsuma, Choshiu, Hizen, and Tosa, and the Shogun was on the verge of yielding to the demand made upon him when hostilities broke out between his adherents and the followers of the Satsuma chieftain. The Shogun was in this way driven into the position of seeming antagonism to the Imperial Government as provisionally constituted, and the fact that he was in great measure the victim of circumstances was in after years most generously recognised by his imperial master. The Shogun, acting no doubt on the advice tendered to him by his supporters, quitted Kioto on horseback, accompanied by only a few mounted attendants, on the 6th January, and reached the castle of Osaka early in the morning of the 7th, just four days after the coup d’état and though he has by some been blamed for allowing himself to be ousted from his position at the Emperor’s side, as the principal adviser of his sovereign, it is difficult to censure him for so doing seeing that the monarch had already begun to issue decrees without consulting his customary adviser. In fact, the decree which was issued as a result of the coup d’état expressly stated that thenceforward everything connected with the government of the country would emanate from the Cho-Tei—i.e. the Imperial Court at Kioto—and strict obedience to the terms of the proclamation was enjoined upon all. The chiefs of the Aidzu and other clans which held allegiance to the Tokugawa side throughout its vicissitudes were summoned to a conference the night previous to the Shogun’s departure for Osaka, and a letter was written to the Cho-Tei by the Shogun in which he declared that it being evident that some deceiver stood at the young sovereign’s side he would, for the safety of the nation, resume the duties of his office, and the better to secure for himself due freedom of action he would remove to the city of Osaka, where he could in his Majesty’s interests venture to take upon himself once more the direction of affairs as Shogun. History relates that at the meeting of his supporters held in the Shogunal palace at Kioto it was urged on his Highness that it would be better to retain control of the neck of the bottle by holding Osaka, the key of Kioto, than wait to fall into the trap which had been set for them. The formal resignation of the Shogun had been tendered by him to the Emperor at the close of 1867, but not definitely accepted, and when it was found that he had quitted the capital an imperial messenger was despatched to Osaka to request his return and the lords of Owari and Echizen were ordered to furnish an escort. Preparations were at once made to obey the sovereign’s command, but the Aidzu and Kuwana clansmen, who had followed their chiefs to Osaka, declared that they would form the escort necessary, and set out in the van of the force which was to constitute the Shogunal procession on the short journey northward. The Shogun himself was to start with the last of his little army, some four days later than the vanguard. To the experienced eyes of the Satsuma and Choshiu leaders, who now had entirely the ear of the young ruler, and whose troops were at this time in full possession of the capital, this march back of the Shogun’s whole army had for them the most sinister of meanings, and accordingly their combined regiments were thrown forward, to challenge the advance of the Tokugawa men, as far as Fushimi, a village seven miles from Kioto on the highway east of the river Yodo. The Commander-in-chief of these imperialist forces was the prince who then bore the title of the Ninnaji-no-miya, a close relative of the Emperor, and before him was carried the gold brocade banner which is emblematic of delegated sovereign authority. The prince afterwards took by imperial order the name of Higashi Fushimi-no-miya, and he is elsewhere referred to as having subsequently spent some time in England. Marshal Saigo Takamori, as he afterwards became, held a position equivalent to that of Chief of Staff in modern campaigns. The main body of the Shogun’s army marched by the Fushimi-kai-do, or eastern road, though a portion took the western one, and there was a contingent of the followers of the lord of Idzumi on that road also, on whose fealty the Shogun believed he might rely. As the sequel showed, the defection of this force was his undoing, for at the critical moment it allowed itself to be won over bodily by the imperialists. At the village of Fushimi the Shogun’s men found that barriers had been erected to stay their progress, and though when challenged the leading company made answer “this is the procession of his Highness the Shogun, who is going to Kioto by the Emperor’s express command,” passage was refused by the imperialist guard. The Shogun’s men were ordered to advance, and an engagement commenced which lasted for three whole days without intermission. The treachery of the men of Tsu, retainers of Todo Idzumi-no-kami, turned the scale, and the Shogun’s army was compelled to retreat from Fushimi towards Osaka, where the Chiefs of Aidzu and other clans loyal to the Tokugawa house found the warships belonging to their side, under the command of Admiral Enomoto, lying off the mouth of the Yodo at Tempo-san. The Shogun himself received the distressing news of the defeat of his forces at Fushimi when about to set out with the last of his army for Kioto, on the 27th of January 1868, and on the afternoon of that day, realising that irremediable disaster had befallen his arms, he quietly took his departure from Osaka castle attended by a few faithful friends, and safely reached the Kaiyo Maru.

This was a Dutch-built frigate which had been purchased for him in Europe and brought out to Japan shortly before. In order to reach the ship the Shogun had had to take boat at the Shin-Sei bridge in Osaka, whence the distance to Tempo-san is about four miles by river.

But before he set out he penned a letter to the foreign representatives then present in Osaka, to the effect that the battle having gone against him, they must provide for their own safety, and they accordingly did so to the best of their ability. The British Minister, Sir Harry Parkes, was staying in a temple in the northern part of the city, and, with his mounted escort of ex-constables of the London police, he rode into the newly established foreign settlement at Kawaguchi that night. At this crisis in the affairs of Japan it was advisable, to prevent mishap, that the British and other foreign ministers should be well guarded, and Sir Harry had with him in addition to his own escort a detachment of the Ninth Regiment, then quartered at Yokohama, always at his disposal. The ships of the powers also lay at Tempo-san, within hail, but the weather being at the moment exceptionally stormy the ministers could not get aboard the vessels. It has to be recorded that Osaka city was held by the men of Choshiu, who showed every disposition to befriend the foreign residents and protected them against any possible violence of the mob, though only four years had elapsed since the bombardment of Shimonoseki by the allied squadrons, and that incident could not have been entirely forgotten. The Tokugawa men had quitted Osaka on the day following the departure of the Shogun, and the mob seized the opportunity, prior to the entry of the Choshiu troops, to pillage the castle and set it afire. The men wounded in the battle of the 27th painfully made their way along the roads from Fushimi, and many were attended by the medical officer of the British Legation who had accompanied Sir Harry Parkes from Tokio. Dr Willis, the genial Irishman and accomplished surgeon here alluded to, is doubtless remembered to this day by many of his patients. He was at a later date in charge of the hospital at Kagoshima, belonging to the Satsuma clan, and was universally respected in Japan. When, in 1877, the clan was declared to be in rebellion, and all foreigners in the country and at out-ports were directed to repair to the nearest “treaty port” for safety, where they would be under the protection of their own warships, he declined to quit his post at the hospital, where he could be of use to his Satsuma friends, and the British cruiser sent to bring away the foreign residents had to leave him behind. But as a bombardment was imminent a Japanese government steamer was sent to fetch him away, and he was then induced to yield.

Although the Shogun had embarked on the Kaiyo Maru on the 27th January at Tempo-san, she did not immediately sail for the gulf of Tokio, but took part in the memorable sea-fight which occurred near Kobé shortly afterwards. Late on the 27th the dwellers in the newly opened foreign settlement saw from the esplanade that the Kaiyo Maru, together with the Ban-riyo Maru (which was in reality the Emperor yacht that Queen Victoria had presented to the Shogun), and Fusiyama, a steamer that the Shogunate had bought, arrived from Osaka, at a time when there were three vessels of the prince of Satsuma’s little fleet in Kobé harbour. When their adversaries steamed in the Satsuma ships were preparing to leave, but they waited until dawn, and then got under weigh. The Kaiyo immediately sent two shots after them, and one of the Satsuma vessels, originally named the Kiang-su, turned and slowly steamed round the harbour, as a challenge, and then followed her consorts the Scotland and the Lotus. The three Shogunate vessels instantly accepted the gage of battle, and all six ships disappeared below the horizon to the southward. The fight took place in Awa bay, which faces Kobé, on the Shikoku coast, about forty miles from that now well-known and flourishing port. The Scotland was sunk, and another of the Satsuma ships took fire. No precise knowledge is obtainable as to what damages the remaining vessels received but the Kaiyo Maru, Emperor yacht, and Fusiyama were able to reach Shinagawa, close to Tokio, on the 4th of the ensuing month, exactly a week after they left Kobé. Immediately on his arrival there the Shogun landed and went to his castle, now the imperial residence.

Yedo, now Tokio, was at that time still the headquarters of the Shogunate, and while stirring events had taken place in the vicinity of the Ten-shi’s capital of Kioto, scarcely less exciting incidents had had to be recorded in respect of the Shogun’s centre of authority in the north. The duty of keeping the peace in Yedo had been assigned to the dai-mio Sakai Sayemon-no-jo, a magnate whose income was that of 150,000 koku.[1] To assist in the work he had engaged a number of ro-nin, or masterless samurai, whom he dubbed the Shin-Cho-gumi, lit.: newly raised company, and installed as a species of police. Finding that the dwellers in the Satsuma Yashiki at Mita, adjoining Shiba, where now stands the Shiba palace, were somewhat addicted to burglary, he determined to put a stop to such irregularities, and demanded of the clansmen then resident in the yashiki that the culprits should be surrendered to justice. In the temper of the samurai of all classes in those days of storm and stress a peremptory demand of this nature was tantamount to a challenge to a trial of strength, and a desperate combat ensued at Mita, in which fifty of the Satsuma men were killed outright. Some contrived to make good their escape to a Satsuma vessel that was at the moment in the harbour of Shinagawa (one of the three that afterwards fought at Awa Bay) and she quickly got up steam and weighed anchor. Four Shogunate ships lying off Shinagawa fired on her as she passed them, and two—the Eagle and the Dumbarton—were able to take up the chase. The Eagle and the Satsuma vessel had a long running fight, following an encounter in Mississippi Bay, near Yokohama, which the residents of that port were privileged to witness on the Sunday afternoon, and in the end the Satsuma champion sped away to the southward and the Eagle returned to her anchorage at Shinagawa. In the Mita fight between the Shin-Cho-gumi and other Shogunate men and the retainers of Satsuma the yashiki was practically burned to the ground and the bodies of the fallen were cremated within its walls. It goes without saying that the deadly animosity which existed between the Satsuma and Tokugawa followers was in no sense diminished by these active hostilities.

[1] In those days the standing of a feudal lord among his fellows was in strict accord with his income, and some dai-mios enjoyed enormous revenues as expressed in koku—1 koku = 5 bushels of rice.

In resigning into the hands of the Emperor a power that had for two and a half centuries been wielded by the Tokugawa family the Shogun Keiki issued the manifesto which is here reproduced according to a translation made at the time, though the dignity and force of the original composition are necessarily somewhat impaired.

Manifesto

“A retrospect of the various changes through which the Empire has passed shows us that after the deadness of the monarchical authority, the power passed into the hands of the Minister of State,—and that by the wars of 1156 to 1159 the governmental power came into the hands of the military class. My ancestor Iyeyasu 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 the Government and of the penal laws have been missed, and it is with feelings of the greatest humiliation that I find myself obliged to acknowledge my own want of virtue as the cause of the present state of things.

Moreover, our intercourse with foreign countries becomes daily more extensive, and consequently our national policy cannot be pursued unless directed by the whole power of the State.

If therefore the old regime be changed and the Governmental authority be restored to the Imperial Court,—if the counsels of the whole Empire be collected and the wise decisions received,—and if we unite with all our heart and 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 to our country.

However, if you [the Daimios] have any particular ideas on the subject, you may state them without reserve.”

The Shogun had lost no time in making known to his imperial master at Kioto his desire to submit unreservedly to the sovereign’s will, for a courier was despatched from Yedo shortly after the arrival of the Kaiyo Maru at Shinagawa anchorage. But it turned out that after the Shogun’s departure from Osaka an imperial messenger in the person of the baron Higashi Kuze was sent to Kobé to assure Sir Harry Parkes and the other foreign representatives that the engagements which had been entered into by Japan with their respective governments would be observed to the letter, and the imperial despatch contained an announcement of the Shogun’s resignation. The memorable document was dated the 3rd of February,—the day before the Shogun reached Yedo. Not only was the imperial rescript of the most welcome,—because reassuring,—character, but it bore for the first time in the history of Japan the sign-manual of the Emperor in the form of his personal name of Mutsuhito. Never before in the lifetime of the monarch had the personal name been appended to a state paper, it being customary to attach the great seal alone, but on this occasion both the great seal and that bearing the ruler’s own name were affixed to the document of which Higashi Kuze (now Count) was the bearer. The text thereof was as follows:—

The Emperor of Japan announces to the Sovereigns of all foreign nations and to their subjects that permission has been granted to the Shogun Yoshinobu to return the governing power in accordance with his own request. Henceforward we shall exercise supreme authority both in the internal and external affairs of the country. Consequently the title of Emperor should be substituted for that of Tycoon which has been hitherto employed in the Treaties. Officers are being appointed by us to conduct foreign affairs. It is desirable that the representatives of all the treaty powers should recognise this announcement.

Mutsuhito.

(With the Seal of Dai Nihon,—Great Japan.)

February 3, 1868.

The Emperor’s relative Ninnaja-no-Miya, afterwards Prince Higashi Fushimi, then became Minister for Foreign Affairs, and he wrote to all the foreign ministers notifying to them the fact of his appointment, and stating that it was the Emperor’s express mandate to him that all existing agreements made by the Bakufu with foreign countries should be respected.

For a while the Shogun retired to the temple of Uyeno, but on the decision of the Emperor being made known to him he went first to Mito, and not long afterwards to Shidzuoka, the chief town of Suruga province, at that time also known by its ancient name of Sumpu. He directed his followers without exception to adopt a similar course and submit themselves to the imperial will, yielding the Ten-shi implicit obedience from that time forward. In the vast majority of cases, however, this excellent counsel fell on deaf ears, for the adherents of the Tokugawa house were for the most part resolved by this time to carry on the struggle to an end.

On the retirement of Tokugawa Keiki the third son of Prince Tayasu, of the Mito branch of the family, by name Kamenosuké, at that time only five years of age, became the lineal head of the house. He is now Prince Iyesato, the President of the Tokio House of Peers, and bears the title of Kō-shaku, lit.: Duke, though by courtesy styled Prince, there being in Japan a distinction between those who bear the simple title of Prince and the Imperial Princes of the Blood Royal.

More recently the Emperor, in the abundance of that magnanimity which has ever distinguished him, called the former Shogun, who is to-day in his sixty-ninth year, to the Imperial Palace at Tokio, and conferred upon him likewise the rank of Kō-shaku, a title similar to that borne by Prince Tokugawa Iyesato, who, as explained, represents the older (Tayasu) branch of the Tokugawa family, so that there are now two noblemen who hold this rank in what in pre-Restoration days was the viceregal line of Tokugawa Shoguns who claimed descent from Iyeyasu the Law-giver.

Prince Tokugawa Keiki, during his retirement at Shidzuoka, was often visited by those who had shared the fortunes of the Shogunate, but he entirely refrained from all interference with politics, and lived the life of a country gentleman, finding his recreation mainly in fishing, and showing his sympathy with the hard-working agricultural population in a way that won for him the respect and regard of all classes. When the Emperor sent for him to visit Tokio, a few years ago, he set out amid demonstrations of esteem on the part of the populace in Suruga which must have convinced him by their spontaneity that if in the course of events he had been compelled to relinquish the semi-regal state in which he had dwelt at the capital, he had retained in the hearts of his fellow-subjects of the Ten-shi a place of highest honour, and that the affection for his person evinced at every stage of the journey by those who were in former days his henchmen had flourished unabated throughout the lapse of close upon four decades. A writer once described the Shogunal entourage in terms which, after all the changes that Japan has undergone during the last quarter of a century, read somewhat strangely, but they serve to convey most vividly to the mind that magnificence by which, in the pre-Restoration period, the Court of Yedo was distinguished. There was a direct contrast between it and the almost severe simplicity of the Kioto Dai-ri, which housed the real monarch, in his complete seclusion, while his vicegerent performed most of the duties of sovereignty in a city 400 miles distant. The quotation is from an account given by one of his Highness’s own pages, and affords an interesting sketch of the daily routine in the Shogunal palace, or Nijo, at the Western Capital.

The usual form of address, we are told, was Go Zen (Your Highness), and there were in the palace no fewer than fifty pages, whose duties were to attend on the Shogun at all times, to wait at table, dress his hair in the fashion peculiar to that time, and, when invited to do so, take part in equestrian and other exercises. The Shogun habitually rose at eight o’clock, and made his toilet for the day. He never wore any garment twice, the whole of his raiment being renewed each day. At breakfast seven or eight dishes were placed before him, but he ate sparingly at all meals, and at ten o’clock he saw his ministers in council (the Go-ro-ju, or assembled honoured elders). Having devoted the forenoon to affairs of state he usually, at midday, went to the “male quarters” of the palace to ride, shoot, or play polo,—in Japanese “da-kiu”—being skilled in archery, and a sure shot with the pistol. On the lake he had a boat in which he rowed himself, and he was expert in fishing with a casting-net. At four o’clock he usually returned to the ladies’ palace, and listened to their playing on the koto or Biwa (the samisen was always too vulgar an instrument to have entry to the palace) and at 6 P.M. the evening repast of choice viands was served in great variety. His highness dined alone, having many ladies to wait on him, as well as pages, and the banquet often lasted until 11 P.M., with music and classic dances at intervals during the evening. He had no companions, for the reason, no doubt, that his rank prevented his associating on terms of equality with even the feudal lords, who were obliged by an inflexible etiquette to bow their heads to the floor when in his august presence, and to remain in that attitude throughout an interview. It is recorded that in 1866 a photograph of the Shogun was taken in his palace of Nijo at Kioto by an officer of an English man-of-war then in Japanese waters, his Highness wearing at the time his robes of ceremony, and it would be interesting to learn that the portrait still exists. The Nijo was built by the first Shogun of the Tokugawa line, the “Law-giver” Iyeyasu, and it was designed to be as much a fortress as a palace. The gorgeous gateways, resplendent in lacquer and gilding, leading to the inner apartments, remind one in their wealth of embellishment of those wonderful temple gates and halls at Nikko, constructed not long afterwards by Iyeyasu’s grandson, the magnificent Iyemitsu, and in the splendid audience chamber, where the Shogun sat on a dais to receive the homage of the feudal barons, the visitor catches a glimpse, as it were, of the pomp and circumstance which to the end of the Bakufu’s existence as a power in Japan surrounded the person of the “Last of the Shoguns.”

For fifteen years prior to its extinction the foreign policy of the Tokugawa Shogunate had been that which was found acceptable to the Emperor Mutsuhito on his accession, thus the necessity for the “Tycoon’s” intervention to secure imperial recognition for the treaties was no longer apparent, and it was inevitable that the position he held should eventually become untenable, apart from all other considerations of political exigency. The predominance of the Bakufu as a military despotism attained its zenith, to judge by the available history of the period, in the days of Iyemitsu, and in proportion as the individual strength and influence of the numerous feudal barons who owed it allegiance were found to increase, the real power of the Tokugawa house steadily diminished. While it lasted, however, the Bakufu did much to render Japan a prosperous country, studiously fostering the arts of civilisation in general, and diligently seeking to promote secular education. It established academies as far back as 1857 for the study of foreign languages and science, supplemented by a school of medicine in 1858.

III
FUJITA TOKO

Outside the Japanese Empire the name of Fujita Toko is but little known, yet he undoubtedly exercised an influence which tended greatly towards the making of Modern Japan, if only by reason of his pronounced hostility to the Regency of the Bakufu and his steadfast, unwearying inculcation of the doctrines of loyalty to the real sovereign and constant preparation for national defence. That he was in advance of his age is clear, for he lived in an era when Japan was secluded from the outer world, and was mainly dependent on such information regarding it as filtered through from Holland by way of the Dutch settlement at Nagasaki. Fujita was a renowned Chinese scholar and teacher of the classics, born in the third year of the Bunkwa period (1806), at Mito, in eastern Hondo, the seat of one branch of the Tokugawa family which for 250 years virtually ruled the country from Yedo. Mito is distant from the capital some fifty-five miles by railway, and is now the chief town of the Ibaraki prefecture, with a population of about 35,000, but in the time of Fujita it was accessible only by road through Tsuchiura, a town at the extremity of the large inlet or lagoon named Kasumi-ga-ura which penetrates from the Pacific a long way inland just to the north of Cape Inuboye. Mito itself is about twelve miles from the coast and is a flourishing agricultural centre, famed for its output of barley, beans, millet, and buckwheat. Tobacco is also extensively cultivated in this region, which is at the present day in the enjoyment of exceptional facilities of communication, for sea-going steamers call at Choshi, an anchorage at the mouth of the river Toné, close to Cape Inuboye, and smaller craft ply between Choshi and the towns situated along the Toné or on the shores of Kasumi-ga-ura, in addition to the branch railway from Oyama on the main line to the north of Japan and a separate line in connection with the capital through Tsuchiura.

FUJITA SAKUMA YOSHIDA

Fujita Toko was not merely a celebrated professor of Chinese literature in an age when classical learning was highly prized, but he was the friend and counsellor of the famous Rekko, senior prince of Mito, whose seventh son, born in 1837, was destined to play so conspicuous a part in the affairs of the nation, and who happily still occupies a leading position as Prince Tokugawa Keiki, better known in pre-Restoration days as the Shogun Hitotsubashi, and whose share in the revival of imperial rule is elsewhere referred to in these pages. The head of the Mito house, Prince Tokugawa Nariaki, strenuously opposed the Bakufu form of government and its policy towards foreign powers, but there is no direct evidence that he was personally antagonistic to the people of the Occident. Dark deeds were attributed to his followers, but the perpetrators were at all events in theory “ro-nins” or outlaws, who had voluntarily severed their connection with the clan beforehand, and for whose crimes the house of Mito was not to be held responsible. This was particularly the case in regard to the assassination of the Regent or Tairo, Ii Kamon-no-Kami, in 1860, at the Sakurada Gate in Yedo. Though the murderers had once, it turned out, been followers of the “old prince of Mito”—as he was termed—they had cut themselves adrift from the clan, and were acting independently of it when they perpetrated the crime that so profoundly stirred the community.

Fujita had long before this taken up his abode in Yedo, and dwelt in that part of the capital known as Koishikawa, down to the date of the terrible earthquake of 1855, in which he, in common with many thousands of his fellow-citizens, was engulfed. He spent practically the whole of his life, however, in Mito, and thither came in 1842 the future Commander-in-chief of the Imperial Forces in the War of the Restoration, and at a later period Minister for War in the Government of Revived Imperial Rule, Saigo Takamori. Saigo became Fujita’s pupil, and there is no doubt that the professor instilled into Saigo’s mind a hostility to the Shogunate as deep and enduring as his own, to bear fruit in after years when the possibility as well as the desirability of effecting a complete revolution in the administration came to be a matter no longer of secret consultation but of free and open discussion. If in the affectionate remembrance of his countrymen Saigo Takamori was the “sword and spear” of the Revolution of 1868, as Kido was its “brain” (employing a phrase once much in vogue), the thoughts of people in Japan must often turn to the long since dead Mito scholar who implanted in his pupil the conviction of the pressing need that there was for a return to the old order of things, and the personal rule of the real emperor.

There is a little story still current in Japan relative to the time of Saigo’s departure from Mito, after a stay of some years’ duration there under Fujita’s tuition. The master had bidden a number of his friends to a supper in Saigo’s honour, and in accord with ancient custom Fujita offered his sakazuki (wine-cup) to his pupil in token of friendship, but Saigo, to Fujita’s surprise, at first begged to be excused. When rallied on his excessive caution Saigo explained that he went in fear lest under the influence of wine he might be guilty of acting imprudently, but Fujita would not accept the plea. “A man who aims at distinction as a samurai must never refuse his master’s invitation to take wine with him,” declared Fujita,—meaning, apparently, that a soldier must place himself unreservedly in the hands of his chief,—and Saigo thereupon took the risk, as he deemed it, on that occasion, and drank several cupfuls of Sake. Fujita was pleased with his pupil’s spirit, and often said of him afterwards that whatever Saigo might undertake he would assuredly succeed in, as he could accommodate himself to circumstances.

Fujita had many other students of classical literature staying with him at Mito at various times, it being a period when not only was there the highest appreciation of Chinese literary composition, but things Chinese in general had a vogue in Japan which approximated to that which in later years was developed in respect of things European. There was, moreover, a growing disposition among the samurai to apply themselves to the study of such arts and sciences as were revealed to them through translations of foreign works introduced by the Dutch at Nagasaki. To thinking men of the type of those who went to Fujita for instruction the Dutch books formed the only media whereby the desired information concerning the Western world could be obtained, and considering the difficulties under which those who sought knowledge in those days must have laboured the perseverance shown in its pursuit reflects vast credit on professors and pupils alike. Long prior to Commodore Perry’s first visit in 1853 the Japanese people were cognisant to some extent of the existence of railways, and steam engines,—even of the electric telegraph, it is said, which was at that time quite new to Europe and America,—and blast furnaces, mills, and workshops of different kinds had been set up on plans obtained from Nagasaki, with no inconsiderable share of success. Other industrial inventions had been introduced, which, if they did not precisely originate in the Occident, had at least been brought to some degree of perfection there, such as the art of printing from movable types, which is said to have belonged in the first place to Korea, and so with human effort in other directions it was at last discovered that all unknown to the Western world the leaven had been working in the various strata of society in Japan with results as astounding to the onlooker as they were beneficial in their effects on the nation. The disposition towards independence of political thought that arose from the perusal of foreign writings which found their way to the country in its period of seclusion was productive, when once the upheaval commenced, of a mental activity that manifested itself in a thousand ways in the last half-century, and there is little likelihood, despite her eagerness for progress, that Japan will ever forget those who aided in the past to bring about her emancipation from a feudal system which sapped her energies and blighted her prospects of advancement. Fujita Toko lives in the hearts of his countrymen.

IV
SAKUMA SHURI (otherwise SHOZAN)

In the eighth year of the Bun-kwa era, corresponding to A.D. 1811, during the reign of the Emperor Kokaku, was born in the little town of Matsu-shiro (Pine citadel) in Shinano province, a man who was destined to leave his mark on the annals of his country for all time. Little has ever been heard of him, so far, outside his own land, but in Japan he is regarded as one of the forerunners of a new regime,—a patriot to whom the Japanese people of the present day are indebted in no small degree for the privileges which they now enjoy. His family name was Sakuma, and his common or as we might say, his baptismal name was Shuri, but to the student of history he is best known, perhaps, by his nom de plume of Shozan. His poetical works fill many volumes, and I venture to quote one of the numerous “thirty-one syllabled” poems which he penned, as an example of his endeavours to stimulate his fellow-countrymen to throw off the yoke of feudalism:—

Kokoro-mi ni izaya sakeban Yama-biko no

Kotaye tataseba koye wa oshimaji.

(When once to our loud shouts Echo vouchsafes an answer

The vocal effort made to gain her favour counts for naught.)

It is recorded of him that even as a child he evinced an unusual gravity of demeanour, so much so that his behaviour was that of an adult rather than a boy of seven, and the neighbours were apt to shake their heads in doubt as to what manner of man he would grow up to be. He cared nothing for the ordinary sports of Japanese children of his years, who, as we have often been assured, dwell in a perfect paradise as far as their play is concerned, but was at all times distinguished by a taciturnity wholly unbefitting one so young. His cleverness was the subject of general remark, and he was a source of intense pride and satisfaction to his parents. In Japan, as in the West, children who betray extraordinary ability are objects of the most marked admiration.

As far as can be ascertained, Shuri continued to reside in his native town until he was twenty-nine years old, when he set out for Yedo, as the capital of the Shogun,—now Tokio—was then called, to seek his fortune. There he studied diligently, under such celebrated professors as Hayashi Jussai and Sato Issai, the then much-prized Chinese literature, and enjoyed the close friendship of those profound scholars Yanagawa Seigan, Watanabe Kazan, and Tsuboi Shindo. All these men won for themselves enduring fame as exponents of the writings of the Chinese sages, and under their guidance Sakuma became deeply versed in the teachings of Mencius and Confucius, and many of the lesser lights of Chinese philosophy. Japan’s rigid seclusion from the outer world, which had at that time already lasted over two centuries, had had the result, for one thing, of elevating Chinese learning to a position, in the eyes of the average Japanese, scarcely less exalted than that of Greek or Latin in England in the Middle Ages, although in Japan some knowledge of Chinese was found among all classes. But Sakuma’s studies were by no means confined to Chinese literature. He set himself to glean all that he could from the works of the Hollanders, then almost the only Occidental writings available to the Japanese in their search for information, and having acquired a fair knowledge of the Dutch language, he embarked resolutely on an investigation of the arts and sciences of the West, including the manufacture of firearms, the construction of vessels of war, of fortifications, and the casting of heavy guns. The immediate effect of his researches was to imbue his mind with a conviction of the paramount necessity of strengthening the national defences, and providing against the contingency of an attack by some hostile Western power. His studies in musketry led him to invent a new weapon, in the shape of a musket capable of far greater rapidity of fire than that which at the time was in use, the pattern of which had been brought from Europe. Sakuma was groping in the dark, by comparison with those of his fellow-countrymen who, at a later date, followed in his footsteps along the path which led to substantial reforms, but he was on the right track, as his unerring judgment assured him, though it was not his fate to live until the dawn of the Meiji era, still less to be able to form a true conception of the success that would attend his country’s efforts and the phenomenal progress that would be achieved under the beneficent auspices of the Emperor Mutsuhito’s reign. In 1842, which was the thirteenth year of the Tempo period, while the Emperor Ninko was on the throne, the feudal chieftain of Shinano, Sakuma’s native province, was given high office under the Tokugawa Government—that is to say, under the administration at Yedo of the Shogun, or as he was better known to Europeans, the “Tycoon.” The Shinano dai-mio, as the feudal chiefs in those days were styled, raised Sakuma to the rank of private adviser to the State on matters concerning coast defence. In the execution of his duties in this capacity Sakuma prepared a memorandum on the nature of the measures to be adopted for adequate protection, and the document is not without historical value, when considered in the light of the more recent events of Japanese history. The report, it will be remembered was made in the year 1842. Roughly speaking, Sakuma’s ideas of national defence were,—

(a) To fortify all points of strategical importance on the coast territories.

(b) To prohibit the export of copper to Holland, and to undertake the manufacture of a large number of cannon. (The impression conveyed is that many thousands of such guns were to be cast, and that the material was to be bronze.)

(c) To build powerful men-of-war, on the Western model.

(d) To promote the trade with foreign countries, by every means at command, external commerce being essential to the national development, and at the same time to put a check on the self-seeking ambitions of the Dutch merchants at Nagasaki, and induce them to abandon their evil ways.

(e) To strengthen the navy. (Considering that Japan was not supposed to have had a navy until quite recent years, this provision would at first sight appear to be somewhat superfluous, but the reference is, of course, to the very few sailing vessels fit to carry guns which had been built in the days of the Tokugawa regime, on lines that had been handed down to the native shipbuilders from the time of Will Adams, the sailor and shipwright of London, who, after his vessel’s wreck on the Japanese coast, at the dawn of the seventeenth century, entered the employ of the then Shogun, and for the remainder of his life devoted himself to the service of his adopted country.)

(f) To establish schools and in every way spread a knowledge of the benefits of a liberal education.

(g) To familiarise people with the principles of sound government, by the introduction of beneficent regulations, and to lead them to appreciate its advantages by the establishment of organised rule on enlightened methods.

(h) To employ only the more intelligent persons in offices of higher rank.

It will readily be comprehended that these recommendations, had they been adopted, would at the outset have involved such sweeping reforms in the methods of administration as would have procured for Sakuma in any case a whole host of enemies, for there were vested interests to be considered in those times as in every age, and it is not at all surprising to learn that his proposals were not received with any degree of favour: admirable as they were in conception, they struck at the very root of the system on which the Tokugawa rule was based, after the closing of the country to foreign intercourse in 1638, which was that of complete seclusion from the rest of the world, and the memorandum was, as might be said, pigeon-holed for future reference.

To fully appreciate the risk that Sakuma ran in putting forward proposals so entirely subversive of the existing order of things, it must be brought to mind for an instant that early in the seventeenth century of the Christian era, at a time when the over-sea trade of Japan had attained to some importance, the Tokugawa Government sternly suppressed all trade with foreign nations on account of the attempts of the Jesuit missionaries, it was said, to obtain for their order that political influence in Japan that they had succeeded in securing at the time in China. The construction of large vessels was prohibited under very severe penalties, and a maritime trade that bade fair to prove eminently advantageous to Japan was strangled at the outset. As far as can be gleaned from the records of that period, Japan had in 1620 about 200 ocean-going ships, fit to brave the storms that were usually to be encountered in the course of a voyage to India, Mexico, or the islands of the South Seas, where the Japanese flag was in those days by no means rarely to be seen. The order that thenceforward Japanese ships were to have but one mast struck at the root of naval expansion, and Japan was still suffering the consequences of this drastic regulation when Sakuma penned his remarkable essay on needed measures of defence.

When his feudal chief, at a later date, returned to his own province Sakuma went back also, being no longer in the employ of the Shogun, though of course the clan administration was still conducted in full accord with the prevailing system, under which the Shogun, as the Emperor’s deputy, managed the nation’s secular affairs and controlled its foreign policy. It was not long, however, before Sakuma was again in Yedo, this time occupying himself in teaching Dutch, of which he had acquired a competent knowledge, to a group of pupils whose ideas tended to coincide with his own. It was at this period that he wished to publish a Dutch-Japanese dictionary, but the Shogun’s officials, so strict were still the laws on this point, could not grant the desired permission. And in the fifth year of the Ka-yei era, corresponding to 1852, the year before Commodore Perry made his appearance off the shores of Idzu province, Sakuma sought to issue a handbook on gunnery, but this right was likewise denied him. The work was entirely from his own pen, and it is to be regretted that it has not, so far as is known, been translated.

The next year eight American warships arrived at the little bay of Uraga, close to the entrance of the gulf of Yedo, and it was freely stated that they had brought a message to the effect that unless the Japanese were prepared to open their ports to trade with all nations these “black ships” would find their way to Yedo itself and bombard the castle of the Shogun. The prospect filled the minds of the people of the locality with horror. Japan had no naval or military strength to oppose to these invaders. It was mournfully recognised that the coast forts then in existence had no armaments that would enable them for an instant to cope with the powerful guns on board the American ships. Japan had in secluding herself failed to keep pace with the march of progress, and was wholly at the mercy of the powers of the Occident. China had had, as in Japan they well knew, to endure in 1841 the intrusion of foreign troops, and the forcible entry of Western vessels into the waters of the Yang-tse-kiang, and now Japan, though she had secluded herself for centuries from the unwelcome attentions of foreign nations, was destined to undergo, as it seemed, the forcible encroachment on her dominions of Western barbarians with whom she had no sort of sympathy, and whose acquaintance she had absolutely no desire whatever to make.

Sakuma was stirred to action. Mounting his horse, he set off alone to Uraga, riding at full speed, resolved to see for himself, as a first step, what manner of men these visitors were, and to gather, if he could, from their attitude to the local inhabitants, what were the real intentions of the intruders. He saw sufficient, as he judged, to form an opinion, and speedily returned to Yedo in order that he might make a report to his feudal chief, who was then staying in the capital. Soon afterwards Sakuma was appointed a member of the general staff, and given the command of the military forces. While enjoying the opportunities which his position afforded him, he frequently at this period advocated the adoption of a new and more complete system of training, as being requisite if Japan desired not merely to protect herself from the aggression of those foreign powers which had already worked their will upon China, but to be in a position some day to choose her own friends should a recourse to Occidental methods suggest itself as politically advantageous to his countrymen. But his aspirations met with no favourable response at headquarters. His ideas were pronounced to be crude and altogether needlessly alarmist in their tendency. He was compelled, therefore, to bury his hopes for the time being, trusting that in the chapter of accidents something might arise to add force to his own respectful but solemn warnings of the danger of delay.

The following year, being the first of An-Sei era,—at this time it was the custom in Japan to change the name of the era to commemorate some auspicious or notable event, irrespective of the sovereign’s reign, but now the eras are co-extensive with the monarch’s tenure of the throne—the American cruisers reappeared at Uraga, having as arranged on their previous visit, returned to receive an answer to President Fillmore’s despatch, in which he had saluted the ruler of Japan with obvious good will and had expressed with a heartiness that could not be misinterpreted America’s wish to be on cordial terms with the subjects of the Ten-shi. On this occasion the squadron of Commodore Perry permitted itself the freedom of entering the Bay of Yedo, an act that came perilously near wrecking the negotiations altogether. As it was, the Tokugawa Government directed two prominent dai-mios, the feudal barons of Kokura and Matsushiro respectively, to prepare for the defence of the approaches to the Sho-gun’s chief city. Kokura is a castle town in the straits of Shimonoseki, afterwards so famous for a fierce fight between the combined foreign squadrons and the forts of the dai-mio of Choshiu province, facing the Buzen province to which Kokura belongs, and Matsushiro is in the Shinano province, and was the place of Sakuma’s birth, and the seat of that feudal chief to whom he owed allegiance. It is situated west-north-west of the Japanese metropolis, towards the west coast, close to that mighty river the Shinano, which there pours its waters into the Sea of Japan. By his chieftain Sakuma was immediately directed to attend and advise the military council, and from that time forth he so ardently devoted himself to the elaboration of a scheme of defence as to allow himself no proper time, it is said, for rest, night or day, until he had completed his task. A week after the advent for a second time of the American warships in Uraga Bay Sakuma took up his position in the vicinity of what is now Yokohama in command of his small force, all being resolved to prevent, as far as their limited powers would permit them to do, the landing of what were then regarded as hostile visitors.

The Tokugawa government had it in mind at that time to open the port of Shimoda to foreign trade in response to the American proposal, the situation of this place, near the extremity of the peninsula of Idzu, and bathed by the waves of the Pacific, being such as to afford reasonable security from too close intimacy with the strangers. But Sakuma was averse to this, on the ground that Shimoda was strategically far too valuable to be relinquished for the purposes of trade, and the free entry and egress of aliens and their ships, and he suggested instead the opening of a trading centre at some spot within the bay of Yedo, not wholly, it may be surmised, without an eye to the practicability of closing the entrance to the bay, should such a course become necessary, by fortifications at Kannon-saki. Ultimately Kanagawa was selected as the port to be opened, the actual site for the foreign settlement being laid out at the village of Yokohama, the “beach over the way,” as its name implies, from the town of Kanagawa. Parenthetically it may be mentioned that as long as the Treaties with foreign powers remained in force Kanagawa was the official designation of the port commonly known as Yokohama. The result of Sakuma’s remonstrances was that the opening of Shimoda was postponed sine die, and Kanagawa was finally chosen to be the first of the ports at which foreign trade and intercourse should be allowed.

In 1851, three years before the treaty of peace and amity with the United States of America was concluded, Sakuma had received into his entire friendship one who was like himself to occupy a niche in the annals of his country. This was Yoshida Torajiro, better known now by his literary name of Sho-in. Yoshida, as Sakuma’s pupil, had become imbued with his mentor’s ideas on the subject of national defence, and acting on Sakuma’s suggestion, which was that every man ought to examine for himself how other countries provided for their own security from attack, Yoshida endeavoured to procure a passage in an American warship, though it was at that time against the law for a Japanese to quit his native land, and in this endeavour he was supported by the conviction that Sakuma approved of his plan, but unfortunately the attempt was foredoomed to failure, as Commodore Perry would not countenance a breach of Japanese law. Sakuma perceived that Yoshida contemplated running the risk of detection, with the object of seeing for himself the condition of people under an enlightened government, and gaining experience which should fit him to continue the good work which the elder man had begun, and the pupil received at the hands of his master a treasured letter stimulating him to yet greater efforts in his search for knowledge, and designed to comfort him amid the inevitable trials and difficulties of the career that he had mapped out for himself. That composition was to be historic, for it decided the fate of Sakuma too, but it shows the clearsightedness of its writer, and it was subsequently an incentive to many to prove constant amid the storm and stress of a period of transition and revolution. An attempt is here made to translate Sakuma’s stirring exhortation into English, but the result is by no means satisfactory, for it is very difficult, if not impossible, to reproduce faithfully the force of the original.

Rendered into English it might perhaps be read as:—

“He has journeyed a thousand leagues, and though he has not yet disclosed to me the trend of his thoughts, I perceive that he is meditating some exploit out of the ordinary. As I watch him move away from my cottage gate I see in fancy a solitary stork outstretched on the wing in the autumn sky. The ocean lies beneath, and the five continents seem to be the bird’s close neighbours. So in a tour of the globe one takes in the situation at a glance, and the benefit exceeds that of a hundred lectures. An intelligent person would not fail to profit hugely by the opportunities presented of acquiring expansive views of men and things. Unless a man achieves something wonderful in life he cannot hope to bear a high reputation after his death.”

The letter brought trouble to Sakuma’s door because it happened to fall into the hands of his political foes, who promptly denounced him to the Government as having instigated a Japanese subject to transgress the laws, and his arrest and imprisonment speedily followed. He was permitted to return to his native province, but was there confined to his own house, on pain of immediate punishment if he ventured to quit it. For nine years he endured this captivity, and then was set free, receiving thereupon invitations from the feudal lords of both Nagato and Tosa to settle in their territories and act in each case as adviser upon matters of coast defence. Nagato is the Japanese title of the province otherwise known as Cho-shiu, and Tosa is one of the four baronies of the Shikoku (lit.: four states) island, the third largest of the group forming the Japanese empire. Sakuma’s fame as an ardent reformer had already spread to the south, in which the two chieftains named held sway, and they thus early evinced their antagonism to the Tokugawa regime, and their recognition of the purity and self-sacrificing character of those ambitions for which Sakuma had already suffered imprisonment. Both dai-mios, in inviting Sakuma to make his home within their borders had it in mind, beyond doubt, to protect him from the dangers that were fast accumulating above his head, and had he been willing to become the protege of either he would have been comparatively safe, for they were all-powerful within their own fiefs, and might have secured for him perfect freedom for the elaboration of his plans of reform. But for reasons with which the present age has little concern, and were they even fully comprehended might scarcely, perhaps, be appreciated, Sakuma respectfully declined the flattering offers thus made to him and clung to his home in Yedo to the last.

Japan was now on the verge of experiencing a crisis in her affairs which threatened to end in one of those sanguinary internecine struggles for supremacy between rival factions to which in her long and exceedingly diversified history, not only under the Tokugawa dynasty but for centuries antecedent thereto, she had been no stranger.

In the third year of the Bunkio era, which was that corresponding to A.D. 1863, Sakuma was invited to visit Kioto, then the centre of learning, as indeed it had ever been, and the city in which dwelt the absolute monarch of Japan, the Ten-shi himself, but again he rejected all overtures to change permanently his place of abode. The following year the title of the era was altered to Genji, so often from one cause and another was it desirable at that period to change these era names. Once more Sakuma was urged to go south, and this time he consented to make the journey to the ancient capital, arriving there in the spring of 1864. It was at that epoch that the latent animosity to foreigners, begotten of racial prejudice and ill report combined, reached its height, and attacks on strangers were not at all infrequent, both in the capital and the provinces. “Loyalty to our Emperor, and expulsion of foreigners” was the cry that animated the masses of the people, who were totally incapable, no doubt, of judging for themselves, and were urged to deeds of violence by the specious arguments of skilled agitators, unable to form any conception of the ignominy that a policy of deliberate persecution was certain to entail for their country. Kioto became infested with men of the “ro-nin” class, outlaws by choice, having obtained from their feudal lords permission to detach themselves from their masters’ service and to become free-lances prepared to undertake deeds of violence for which the barons to whom they ordinarily owed allegiance should not be held responsible to the State. It mattered little whether the “ro-nin” had been dismissed from his lord’s employ for some personal shortcoming or had sought temporary or permanent leave of absence. His lord was no longer liable for what might occur. And it was not in Kioto alone that these men had assembled, for Yedo was almost equally in favour with them as a convenient lurking-place, and the persons and property of foreigners were often assailed, to the extent that life became most insecure. Within a brief space of time a whole series of assassinations took place, including the killing of Mr Richardson on the Tokaido seven miles from Yokohama the slaughter of Dankichi, an interpreter to the American Embassy, of Mr Heusken, attached to the British Embassy in a similar capacity, and of several others. The chapter is so painful a one in Japanese history, and Japan so long ago repented in sackcloth and ashes for the crimes of which her people were then guilty, that it is needless to offer, and would perhaps be ungenerous in an English-reading public to demand, a detailed account to-day of these deplorable occurrences. Suffice it to say that Sakuma himself, for the ostensible reason that he firmly adhered to his opinion,—despite the opposition of a numerous and powerful body of his fellow-countrymen who advocated the abrogation of the treaties and the return to a policy of complete isolation,—that the other ports designated as the emporiums of general foreign trade should be forthwith opened, as well as Yokohama, incurred the censure of the anti-foreign clique and was stabbed to death by “ro-nins” on the 11th of July 1864, he being then in the fifty-fourth year of his age.

Of the character of Sakuma Shozan it is impossible to write in terms of too high praise. By his countrymen he is universally esteemed a martyr to the sacred cause of enlightened progress. He was unselfish in the extreme, ever willing to aid others with his learning, a man of lofty ideals, of unrivalled ability to forecast the future and prepare himself, as he strove to prepare others, for its inevitable changes and transformations. His was patriotism of the purest type, for he had everything to lose and absolutely naught to gain by seeking to popularise in Japan the institutions of the West. He was in advance of his age, and shared the fate of many a reformer in other lands. He realised, at a time when it was fatal to entertain views so heretical, that the days of Japan’s complete liberty to choose a course for herself had passed, and that she would be driven to consort with the other nations of the earth if she would avoid the fate which was seen to have overtaken some other Asiatic peoples and potentates. He suffered for his boldness in criticising the then existing order of things, and a perusal of his later poems will serve to indicate the extent to which he was willing that the nation should go forward in its adoption of Western ideas and appliances, for they are eminently inspiring and resolute in tone, encouraging in every line the pursuit of knowledge with the single purpose of providing for the national defence and the retention of the independence of the land for which he prophesied the most brilliant future. Sakuma was the great forerunner of that distinguished band of patriots who, in some cases at the sacrifice of their lives, and always by the whole-souled devotion of their best energies, helped to make Modern Japan.

V
YOSHIDA TORAJIRO (otherwise SHO-IN)

During the reign of the Emperor Nin-ko, in the first year of the Tempo era, which corresponded to A.D. 1830, there was born in Cho-shiu province, south-west Niphon, Yoshida Torajiro, the son of samurai parents, who were retainers of the dai-mio Mori, the lord of the fief. Yoshida’s birthplace was the little village of Matsushita (Under the pines), close to the town of Hagi, on the west coast of Niphon, facing the peninsula of Korea. From his earliest years Yoshida was an ardent student of Chinese literature, and exhibited an extreme cleverness as a child that won for him uncommon fame in the district. So proficient had he become in this department of study that at the age of eleven he was called on to lecture on a topic of military history in the presence of his feudal chieftain, the dai-mio Mori Kei-shin, and his erudition was the source of the utmost astonishment to his hearers. When he was nineteen he set out on a tour through the island of Kiu-shiu, his main object being to make the acquaintance of those prominent men in the south of Japan who just then had raised the cry of “loyalty to the Emperor, expulsion of all foreigners.” This sentiment, it will be observed, did not have its origin in the later fifties, as might have been supposed from the frequency with which it was then heard, after Perry’s visits had led to the conclusion of treaties of peace and amity, but was prevalent as far back as the year 1849, when the only aliens in the country were a few Dutchmen at Nagasaki. The feeling at that time was perhaps only local, for it was to the vicinity of that port that Yoshida wended his way in the evident belief that he would there meet with those who most strongly entertained this opinion of the proper course to be taken with the intruders. No doubt his youthful impressions had been stimulated by the reading of the Nihon Gaishi, a work on Japanese history, written by Rai Sanyo, that at that period was intensely popular. His father’s influence, moreover, was all in the same direction, and the circumstances all point to Yoshida’s having imbibed principles that were distinctly adverse to the retention of foreigners in the country under any conditions whatever. Precisely what effect his travels in Kiushiu had on his mind can never be known, but it may be assumed with tolerable safety that he journeyed to Nagasaki and there saw the Dutchmen dwelling in their own fashion in the quaint little settlement of Deshima, where they were all but prisoners, though allowed to carry on their trade.

In the meantime the Emperor Ko-mei, father of the reigning monarch, had succeeded Ninko on the throne, and the era bore the title of Ka-ei. It lasted until 1854, and it was when it was in its fourth year that Yoshida went to Yedo and there met, as described in a previous chapter, with Sakuma Shozan, whose pupil he became. At this time Sakuma was forty years old, and Yoshida was twenty-two. From their first meeting Yoshida recognised in the elder man a greatness of intellect and grandeur of aim that fascinated him, and led him there and then to appreciate the opportunity afforded him of becoming Sakuma’s disciple. More especially was he convinced of the soundness of Sakuma’s views on the importance of coast defence, and at his suggestion undertook a journey into the provinces of Sagami and Awa, with the express object of searching out the most suitable positions, from a strategical point of view, for the defence of Yedo Bay. It will be perceived, as constituting a matter of no trifling interest, that the defence of the coast was under anxious consideration two years at least prior to the arrival off Uraga of Commodore Perry and his squadron of “black ships,” so that it cannot be said that these measures were proposed as a direct consequence of the American expedition’s advent in Japanese waters. After visiting Awa and Sagami Yoshida went north to the Tsugaru Straits and Hakodate, having the same purpose ever before him, the strengthening of his country’s defences against the intrusion of foreign powers.

In 1853, the year of Perry’s arrival, Yoshida was again in Yedo, but in September of that year he went once more to Nagasaki. His secret purpose was then to embark for Europe in a Russian cruiser, but by the time he reached the port named the vessel had sailed, so that his hopes were entirely frustrated. Sakuma had recommended him to make his way to Europe, if possible, because, as he said, if Yoshida desired to form an adequate idea of the most efficient means of providing for the security of the Japanese coasts it was first requisite that he should fully comprehend the conditions under which the protection of their own coasts was successfully undertaken by foreign nations. It was on this advice that he sought by every means at his command to obtain a passage to some foreign land, and in the following year, when the American warships again visited Uraga, Yoshida made his next attempt, in company with a faithful servant who very possibly hoped also to get away to a land where there would be no restrictions on their movements, and entire liberty of thought could be secured. It is a matter for regret that his ambitions in this regard were once more frustrated, for in Yoshida there can be no doubt that Japan had a truly patriotic son, one who, had the opportunity been afforded him, would have achieved distinct success in the direction which he had marked out for himself, the preservation of Japan for the Japanese. In Yoshida’s case, as in all others with which I am acquainted, the innate patriotism that he had inherited had been aroused and stimulated by the experiences that the neighbouring Chinese Empire had undergone. In common with other people in the Far East, he had heard of the occupation of Canton, and of Chusan, of the expedition up the Yang-tsu-kiang, and of the forcible opening to foreign commerce of the ports of Ningpo, Amoy, and Shanghai. Such doings were of dire portent for the dwellers in Dai Niphon, for if the Chinese, who for so many centuries had in the arts and sciences led Japan, found themselves reduced to the necessity of conforming to the will of the Western invaders, by reason of a laxity in preparation for national defence, how much more incumbent must it be upon the Japanese, with only their islands to call their own, and no hinterland to retire into, strenuously to make ready for eventualities. Yoshida’s request for a passage to the United States was refused,—Commodore Perry mentions him as Isagi Kooda,—and he was imprisoned for having attempted to quit Japan at a time when emigration was forbidden.

In the following year Yoshida was confined to his own house at Matsushima, in the province of Cho-shiu, but a year later, in the third of the An-sei era, the discipline was so far relaxed as to admit of his taking pupils for the study of military books. It was probably at this period that he wrote to a Court noble, by name Ohara Shigetami, who held very similar views on the subject of the foreigners’ invasion, begging him to visit Cho-shiu for the purpose of starting an agitation there in favour of the “expulsion of barbarians and the restoration of the Ten-shi to supreme control,” that twofold object on which a majority of the patriots of the age laid stress in the belief that its attainment was wholly indispensable to the welfare of the nation. In truth Yoshida’s teaching of military subjects was little more than a cover for the inoculation of his pupils with the principles of a most resolute antagonism to the Bakufu—i.e. the system of government by the Tokugawa line of Sho-guns, a plan of vicarious rule in which he could discern nothing for his country but disaster. A school was at this time opened in the village of Matsushima by two uncles of Yoshida Sho-in, named Kubo and Tamaki, and after a while Yoshida succeeded them in the management thereof; it deserves more than a passing reference, for it was destined to be the cradle, as it were, of the revolution of 1868, by which the present Emperor was led to abandon the life of utter seclusion that it had for centuries been customary for the occupants of the Japanese throne to lead, and to take upon himself the actual rule of his dominions. Among those who attended this school were not a few to whom fell the lot of fighting, a short time afterwards, at Fushimi, in the tremendous contest for supremacy which took place between the adherents of the Sho-gun and those who sided with Choshiu and Satsuma.

Yoshida conducted the village school for two years and a half, from July 1856 to December 1858, but in the latter month he was arrested, and thrown into gaol for having, it was alleged, incited his pupils to plot against the Tokugawa dynasty, and planned the assassination, his enemies asserted, of the Minister Manabe Norikatsu, a member of the Government. It is certain, whatever degree of guilt may have attached to him in other respects, that he consistently challenged the wisdom of the Tokugawa’s foreign policy, and advocated most zealously the abolition of that form of administration, becoming in consequence the object of a most determined persecution by the Yedo Government.

After an incarceration lasting five months in his native province he was transferred to the Temmacho Prison in Yedo, and its doors closed over him in July 1859. On the 27th of October following he was decapitated in obedience to the orders of the Bakufu, and thus at the early age of twenty-nine ended the career of one of Japan’s most earnest patriots. While his aim was the retention of Japan for the Japanese, and his determined antagonism to the Shogunate arose from its willingness to enter into treaties for the opening of the Empire to foreign trade, the object sought by his followers was the destruction of the Tokugawa dynasty itself, and their opposition to foreign intercourse proceeded not from antipathy to the Occidentals so much as from a paramount desire to put an end to the dual form of administration. The cry of “Expulsion of the Alien” was raised by Yoshida’s disciples in the expectation that acts inimical to the strangers would embroil the Bakufu with those Western Powers, the subjects of which were by degrees attaining a foothold in the country, and that government by the Shogunate would then become an impossibility.

VI
MARQUIS ITO

A Statesman of transcendent ability, the Marquis Ito Hirobumi of necessity has his detractors. By the vast majority of the nation, however, his political views are deemed wholly acceptable, and in regard to the value of his services to his country there are not in Japan two opinions. He was born in September 1841, at Kumagé, in the province of Cho-shiu, otherwise Nagato, in south-west Japan. By birth a samurai, he spent his boyhood in studies suitable to his station in life, and became proficient in the military exercises which were prescribed for the retainers of the feudal barons, but from the time of Commodore Perry’s arrival in 1853 his aspirations became directed into a new channel, and his reading especially took a turn in the direction of the adaptation of foreign methods to the needs of Japan. In this he was associated with many of his fellow-clansmen whose names have become in later years household words in the country of their birth, and are almost equally well known to the people of other lands. Yamagata, Kido, Takasugi, Yamao, Inouye Kaoru, with many others who have since risen to fame, were fellow-students of the political and military systems of the Occidental nations, striving desperately to acquire information that should guide them in their project of raising their country to the level of the leading powers of the world.

MARQUIS ITO

The little knot of reformers was headed by Takasugi, a man of samurai rank who was considerably the senior of his colleagues in age, and one of the earliest acts of the party, on ascertaining the attitude of the lord of the province towards the Bakufu, was to put itself in a posture of something like rebellion against his authority. The reformers sought to organise a substantial resistance in Cho-shiu to the policy of the Shogun, who had, it was urged, betrayed the best interests of his country by entering into treaties with foreigners. Ostensibly, if not actually, the leaders of this anti-Bakufu league were hostile to innovations from the Occident, but they were willing to avail themselves of Western arts and sciences to the end that their own position might be strengthened to oppose the Shogun’s administration, and accordingly we find the new military system gaining ground notwithstanding the avowed antagonism of the reformers to the invasion of their country by the originators of that system.

At Hagi, a town beautifully situated on the west coast of Nagato, and the castle town of the lord of that province, the reformers gradually matured their plans and drilled a small army of their fellow-samurai in the martial exercises of the West as set forth in books of which they had become possessed at Nagasaki and elsewhere, mainly in the Dutch tongue. It is recorded of Ito Shunsuke that he earnestly strove to make himself acquainted with Occidental progress, and became by degrees a competent English scholar, thus equipping himself for the course of Western travel which he was able to undertake in the year 1863, when he left his country for the first time on the long voyage to Europe in a sailing vessel belonging to Jardine Matheson & Company of Shanghai, for whom Glover & Company, British merchants of Nagasaki,—a port which had been opened to foreign trade four years previously,—were agents.

Ito Shunsuke, as he was then named, was one of many young men of Samurai rank who, with the view of acquiring information which they felt might the better enable them to do good service to their country, were willing to undergo all kinds of privations and run all risks in order that they might add to their store of knowledge. Glover & Company, as agents for the owners, Jardine Matheson & Company, facilitated the escape of the young men, who were concealed in a garden at Yokohama, their queues having previously been cut off and their hair trimmed in foreign fashion, until the sailing ship was prepared to weigh anchor, when they were stealthily put on board by their English friends. It is due to the Marquis Ito to say that he has never failed to acknowledge in most graceful terms his indebtedness at the outset of his career to the aid he thus received from those who were not of his own land.

On his return to Japan twelve months later he found that his feudal chief, the dai-mio of Cho-shiu, had become involved in a dispute with the Bakufu, or Government of the Sho-gun, concerning right-of-way through the Shimonoseki Straits, which separate the Cho-shiu territory from the adjoining island of Kiu-shiu. The lord of the province was averse to the free entry of foreign vessels into the Inland Sea from the west, and had signified his disapproval by firing on ships that attempted the passage of the straits, from batteries which he had placed on the hills above. The Bakufu had failed to convince the Cho-shiu chieftain that the channel ought to be open to all comers, and despairing of its own ability to put a stop to the systematic interference with foreign shipping, had authorised the admirals of the Western Powers to take such measures as they thought fit. Ito Shunsuke, with his knowledge of the naval and military strength of the Occident amplified by personal inspection at the European capitals, saw that his lord was inviting disaster by his arbitrary treatment of the strangers, and sought to dissuade him from continuing the attacks on passing shipping, but the feudal baron was resolved to persist in his endeavour to check the influx of foreign ideas, and Ito had to return to the ship in which he had taken passage, with this express object in view, from Yokohama, with his mission unfulfilled. The foreign men-of-war had been at the time assembled in Yedo Bay preparatory to setting out for the Inland Sea, on their way to the Shimonoseki Straits to engage the Choshiu batteries, and the two young men of that province, for in this matter Ito was associated with his fellow-clansman Inouye, deemed it expedient to endeavour to convince their lord that however skilful might be the Choshiu gunners, it would be impossible for them to hold their own against the formidable armaments of the Western warships. In this long and self-imposed, and, as it turned out to be, useless journey to the capital of his native province from the coast, Ito was accompanied by this friend and fellow-student Inouye, who had likewise been to Europe with him,—no other than the present Count Inouye Kaoru, who is elsewhere referred to in this book.

To appreciate the nature of the services thus early rendered to his clan and to the nation at large, it must be remembered that the laws under which emigration to countries abroad was prohibited, and which had been framed in the days of Iyeyasu, were still in force. Special permission was needed for any Japanese to quit his native shores, and in case of surreptitious departure without the formality having been observed it was somewhat risky to return. Ito and Inouye had contrived to reach Europe without complying with the regulations, and were liable to certain penalties in consequence, so that in undertaking to visit Choshiu with the object of making representations to their chieftain Mori they had to brave his anger for their disobedience to the regulations in the first place, apart from the character of their mission, which was, to say the least of it, one not calculated to appease the wrath of a noble who held strong views on the subject of dealings with foreigners in general. The journey from the little coast town in the Inland Sea where the envoys, garbed as doctors of medicine, were put ashore by a boat from the British warship Barrosa in which they had come south from Yokohama was not more than sixteen Japanese leagues (forty English miles) in length, but the track lay across mountains, and the only means of conveyance were kago of the type used in the hills, mere baskets slung from poles borne on the shoulders of two men, who walked at about four miles an hour. The mission, as already said, was a complete failure, for the lord of Cho-shiu refused to pay any attention to the letters from Foreign Ambassadors, or to listen to the faintest suggestion that his batteries were not a match for anything that the foreign ships might carry, and he was resolved that the gates of Bakan,—otherwise Akamagaseki, the Red Horse Barrier,—should not be thrown open without a struggle. The Barrosa returned to Yokohama, and shortly afterwards the combined fleet, comprising British, French, Dutch, and American vessels, accordingly steamed south to the Straits, and the memorable battle of Shimonoseki, of 1864, was fought, with the result that the Cho-shiu guns were speedily silenced. On a low hill at the back of the town, overlooking the swift-flowing waters of the straits, is a tiny graveyard where repose the Cho-shiu men who fell in that final effort to close the door to Western trade. On the opposite shore are two or three neglected graves which local tradition declares to be the burial places of the French soldiers who were victims to the Cho-shiu artillerymen. The gunners were aided by archers, one of the foreigners killed having been transfixed by an arrow. Some day it may be feasible, perhaps, to have the spot suitably marked where rest those who did their duty as gallantly as did their foes whose memories are honoured with well-kept tombs on the other side of the narrow channel in which the fierce combat occurred. It was long believed that the foreigners who fell were buried at sea, but still living witnesses of the battle aver that three bodies were brought ashore on the Moji side and interred in the field which abuts on the beach, and where mounds of earth are distinctly traceable, or at all events were visible when the writer was engaged in work there some years ago. In his task he had the assistance of several Cho-shiu men who had taken part in the operations against us, and who bore the scars of injuries received while serving their own guns. There was not the slightest sign at any time manifested of resentment,—though the fight had taken place too recently to be other than fresh in the memory. It was felt that the best use had been made of the weapons that the province then possessed, and that no disgrace attached to defeat under such conditions,—moreover, had not the British bluejackets landed immediately the firing ceased, and striven might and main to extinguish the flames which had been ravaging the town as a consequence of the fight in its immediate neighbourhood? The inhabitants of Shimonoseki will never forget that the victors proved themselves to be generous foes, and nothing but good will has been exhibited towards strangers in the now flourishing port ever since.

Ito Shunsuke was much occupied for the ensuing two years in Kioto, where his knowledge of Europe became of immense value to his party, and in preparations for the struggle with the Bakufu which it was plain could not be long delayed.

The main incidents of those two years are recorded elsewhere in connection with the career of Prince Sanjo, and it will suffice to mention here that immediately on the resignation of the last of the Sho-guns, whose adherents continued the war, nevertheless, for some months longer, Ito was busily occupied with plans for the institution of government on a Western model, to the careful study of which he had devoted himself while absent in the capitals of Europe. It was a period of intense political excitement and unrest, and as the Marquis not long since declared, little thought entered the minds of men other than the all-absorbing idea of restoring the supreme power to the dynasty of the true sovereigns of Japan, and abolishing for ever the influence of the Tokugawa line of Sho-guns.

It is comparatively little known that the statesman who has been for fifty years prominent in every great work connected with the advancement of his country upon Western lines and has advocated the adoption of every foreign institution that would be calculated to benefit his native land was in his young days opposed to the influx of strangers, having been an ardent follower of the Jo-I party which was adverse to the cultivation of foreign relations. He was brought up in this school of thought, having been a pupil for some time of Yoshida Shoin, who is elsewhere alluded to in this volume, and when he at first favoured the introduction of Western appliances and methods it was purely in order that the defence of the empire should be secured against foreign aggression.

After the Restoration to the direct exercise of the prerogatives of sovereignty of his present Majesty in 1867, and the final suppression of the revolted northern clans, the opening of the port of Hiogo to foreign trade became an accomplished fact, and Ito Shunsuke, as he was still named, received the appointment of Governor. Though the port was officially styled Hiogo, the residences of the foreign merchants, indeed the whole “Settlement” in which they lived and transacted their business, was situated in the adjoining town of Kobé, under which name the port has become best known to Europeans, and latterly as Kobé-Hiogo. It has had many famous men as its Governor in the years that have passed, notably the present Minister to Great Britain, Viscount Hayashi, and the office may be said to have been the stepping-stone to still greater distinction in more than one instance, but Kobé will never forget that he who is often almost affectionately referred to as the “grand old man” of Japan was the first to occupy the chair as its chief magistrate. This was in 1868, when he was yet a young man of twenty-seven, and he was selected, it may be assumed, for this responsible post on account of his exceptional acquaintance with Europe and its people, and with the habits and requirements of foreign residents in general.

His subordinates at Hiogo, during the time he was Governor, were like himself young and progressive men, entirely at one with the propaganda of the new and progressive policy which aimed at the consolidation of the Empire and the development of all its resources. Many proposals were put forward by Governor Ito at this period with the view of remodelling all branches of the imperial polity, in particular with respect to the imposition of taxes, military education, and so on, covering a wide field. Their advocacy of these measures procured for Ito and his associates at the time the designation of holders of the “Hiogo view.” It was really Ito who inspired Kido, the famous statesman whose history is recorded in another chapter, with the resolve to take up the question of the total abolition of the feudal system, and which rapidly gained supporters in many quarters, to the extent that in a few years it came to be an accomplished fact.

As Governor of Kobé-Hiogo, he won the highest esteem of all classes, but he was not destined to remain long in that office, for he was called to Tokio next year to undertake the duties of Finance Vice-Minister, and the following spring he went to the United States to study the monetary system of that country, a task to which he devoted himself for the ensuing twelve months, returning to his own land in 1871.

While away he wrote the following memorandum on “Reasons for basing the Japanese new coinage on the metric system.”

According to the coinage system recently adopted in Japan, the silver yen is the standard unit of value, so that it may be used as legal tender in transactions to any amount; the smaller coins, various fractions of one yen, are to be the subsidiary medium of exchange, each kind being permitted as legal tender in transactions amounting to one hundred times its value. There is besides the gold yen, but it is subsidiary, and may be used in the payment of sums not more than ten times its value or one hundred yen. The silver yen is equal in quality to the American dollar, but slightly exceeds the latter in weight. The gold coins are in England and America legal tender to any amount. I presume the Japanese Government is in hopes that gold coin will always remain abundant while silver yen will gradually wear out through constant handling, so that in course of time gold will of itself become the standard unit of value. Just now there is under discussion in the U.S. House of Representatives a bill for establishing an international system of coinage. The ten-dollar gold piece according to that system is to weigh 257·2 grains, or sixteen and two-third grammes. The Japanese ten-yen gold piece weighs 248 grains, but if it were slightly increased in weight to equal the suggested international standard coin, the coinage system of Japan would be established on a sound basis and be for ever free from all fluctuations of exchange value. As to which metal should be the standard of value, the opinion of the economists all tend to coincide in regarding gold as the fittest metal for standard. That Austria, Holland, and some other countries still maintain a silver standard is probably due to the great difficulty of changing the old system. If a system of coinage were to be newly established by any of these countries, there is no question but that the gold standard would invariably be adopted. It will be a wise policy for Japan, therefore, to consider the trend of opinion in Western lands and establish her new system in accordance with the best teachings of modern times. It may be that for the time being, on account of the possible great loss to the country from the too sudden adoption of the gold standard, a silver standard may have to be maintained. Otherwise there is no question that gold is the best metal for the standard of value. If the gold standard is introduced, silver may be fitly coined for a subsidiary medium of exchange, putting a limit to its legal tender amount. It may be as well to establish our system on this basis, making silver provisionally the standard, strictly keeping in view, however, the time when gold will be made to supersede silver as the standard of our system of coinage.

The foregoing memorandum was chiefly instrumental in effecting a change in the coinage policy of the country,—it bore a postscript to the effect that the contents thereof had been penned in haste, but that the main points which Ito wished to emphasise were:—

I. The necessity of slightly reducing the weight of the unit of value of the silver coinage; and

II. To determine the weight of the gold coin according to the metric system.

And it concluded:—

“Written in America on the 29th day of December 1870.”

(Signed) Hirobumi.

The Government decided to adopt at once the gold standard, and issued the new coinage regulation on the 10th of May 1871. The various measures then taken, and supported at subsequent dates by the administration, proved unavailing, however, to maintain gold monometallism in healthy growth at that period. The issuing of a large amount of inconvertible paper money drove specie, especially the gold coins, out of the country. This and the smallness of the natural output of gold in Japan compelled the Government to have recourse to gold and silver bimetallism in 1878, as being more conducive to the national prosperity at that time.

From this time onward Ito’s rise to power was singularly rapid, he was in truth the man of the hour, the chosen counsellor of the youthful sovereign, the hope of a nation which had at the moment but a faint impression, if any at all, of the part that it would be called on to play in the not distant future, and was as yet merely groping towards the light. The finances of the revivified country needed exceptional ability for their reorganisation, for there were still in operation in the provinces the primitive arrangements for the introduction of which the at times urgent necessities of the feudal lords was often directly responsible, and which it was absolutely essential should be replaced by methods more substantial if local credit were to be maintained,—there were the inevitable heavy expenditures incidental to the adoption of a new system of administration,— a less cumbrous coinage was greatly wanted,—and a workable plan of taxation whereby to support the reformed Government of the country was above everything essential. These were among the matters that pressed for the attention of the department which Ito was called on virtually to control.

Only a few months had elapsed when his services were demanded in a different capacity, but one that afforded still greater opportunities for the display of his talents, for he was chosen by the Emperor to take a most active part in the mission which it was resolved should visit America and Europe, there to gather information on matters of vital importance to the nation, and in December of the year 1871 the party, headed by Prince Iwakura, started from Yokohama in a Pacific mail steamer for San Francisco. Although it was not absolutely the first time that Japan had sent her messengers abroad, for two of the feudal barons with their secretaries had been to Europe on a short visit in the early sixties, the mission of Prince Iwakura, following immediately as it did the assumption by the real monarch of all the duties appertaining to his imperial station, bore a special and striking significance. The departure of the vessel from the bay of Tokio was watched by many thousands of people, and the event was acknowledged on all sides to be full of happy augury for Japan.

In California the mission was very cordially welcomed, and in an eloquent speech delivered at the Lick House, San Francisco, in January 1872, shortly after landing, Ito set forth the objects of the mission. Without reproducing the whole oration, it may suffice to give here some of its salient features, but the occasion was a memorable one, since it could but be regarded as the first time that the empire, newly emancipated from the thraldom of an intensely rigid feudalism, had declared itself through the mouth of an accredited representative. The speaker began by remarking that: “This is perhaps a fitting opportunity to give a brief and reliable outline of many improvements introduced into Japan. Few but native Japanese have any correct knowledge of our country’s internal condition.... Our mission, under special instructions from His Majesty the Emperor, while seeking to protect the rights and interests of our respective nations, will seek to unite them more closely in the future, convinced that we shall appreciate each other more when we know each other better.... To-day it is the earnest wish of both our Government and people to strive for the highest points of civilisation enjoyed by more enlightened countries. Looking to this end we have adopted their Military, Naval, Scientific, and Educational Institutions, and knowledge has flowed to us freely in the wake of foreign commerce. Although our improvement has been rapid in material civilisation, the mental improvement of our people has been far greater.... While held in absolute obedience by despotic Sovereigns through many thousand years, our people knew no freedom nor liberty of thought. With our material improvement they learned to understand their rightful privileges, which for ages had been denied them. Civil war was but a temporary result.... Our daimios magnanimously surrendered their principalities, and their voluntary action was accepted by a general Government. Within a year a feudal system firmly established many centuries ago has been completely abolished. What country in the middle ages broke down its feudal system without war?