CHAPTER XXVI

JAPAN. THE RECEPTION OF THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH

There was a great stir in Japan in the summer of 1869, when it was known that the Duke of Edinburgh was coming in the _Galatea_. The Japanese Government were wildly excited, for it was the first time that a Royal Prince had paid a visit to the Mikado, and they were determined to give his Royal Highness a reception at Yedo worthy of his rank and of the Monarch who was to entertain him. Hama-go-ten, a beautiful garden by the sea, was determined upon as his residence; and the preparations were made in the most generous fashion. Furniture and all the equipments necessary to European ideas of comfort were procured from Hong Kong; but the decorations were carried out entirely in the native fashion, and most beautiful and artistic they were.

In order that nothing might be wanting the Japanese asked Sir Harry to allow me to help them, for in those times they were not so well acquainted with Western habits as they are now; so a couple of rooms were made ready for me in Hama-go-ten so that I might be on the spot, and there I remained for about a month. I was also to serve as interpreter to the Duke, and as I should have to act on the occasion of his interview with the Son of Heaven, I had to be coached in the language of “the people above the clouds” (royalties and courtiers), for there are matters of etiquette and proper phraseology at this as at all courts in which it would be very easy to make some awkward mistake.

It was a pity that the Japanese did not have the inspiration to lodge the Duke in one of their own charming pavilions; but they were bent upon preparing a European house for him, and so a rather ugly, ramshackle wooden house with green shutters was run up in a hurry. The ugliness of the outside, however, was made up for by the decorations within. The walls were a perfect riot of colour and gold, which in less deft hands would have been glaring and violent, but the artists had the secret of so mastering and intermarrying the most hostile colours that the whole effect was delightful and a succession of surprises. The discordant note was struck by the furniture dealers of Hong Kong; their wares, with a strong flavour of Tottenham Court Road in them, jarred piteously with the imaginative poetry of the Japanese artists.

The Duke arrived in the harbour of Yokohama on the 31st of August, and, after the usual salutes, levées, addresses and all the other wearinesses of which loyalty is capable, drove up to Yedo, along the picturesque Tokaido, in one of the Emperor’s carriages. Mr. Eliot Yorke, Captain Haig, Mr. Ramsay (afterwards Lord Dalhousie) and Lord Charles Beresford were those who accompanied him from the _Galatea_. I was specially attached to him during his stay, and of course Sir Harry Parkes went with him. All along the road he was received with the same honours that would be paid to the Mikado himself. The shutters of the upstairs rooms in the houses by the wayside were hermetically sealed with bits of paper stuck across them so that no Peeping Tom should look down upon the august person—a custom long since passed away in these days, when the Emperor shows himself as freely as any European sovereign. As the Duke’s carriage went by, the people who thronged the road and streets fell prostrate, touching the earth with their foreheads. A most elaborate programme had been drawn up for his Royal Highness’ arrival. I extract from my translation of it one or two items which savour of the old-world ceremonial of the court, now quite forgotten. The rest deal with salutes, refreshments, etc.

“Previous to his Royal Highness’ arrival in Japan, prayers will be offered up to Kanjin for his prosperous voyage.” Kanjin, literally the God of China. This is the revival of an extremely ancient ceremonial which dates from a time when there was no intercourse with abroad, excepting with China through Corea. Kanjin is therefore the patron saint of foreigners, who are all united under his protection under the generic name of Tōjin, or “men of the Tang” dynasty of China.

“On the day before his Royal Highness’ departure for his residence at Yedo, the roads will be cleaned and repaired; and prayers for his safe journey will be offered up to the God of Roads.”

“On the day on which his Royal Highness may be expected to arrive in Yedo, religious ceremonies will take place at Shinagawa [the suburb through which he would pass] to exorcize all evil spirits. On his Royal Highness’ arrival, a Prince of the Blood will visit him, to inquire after his health.”

“When his Royal Highness is about to enter the gate of the castle the ceremony called Nusa will take place.”

Nusa is a sweeping away of evil influences with a sort of flapper with a hempen tassel.

The prayers and pious orisons of the Shintō priests were heard; the Duke arrived and departed in unbroken health and spirits; all evil influences, all malignant _oni_ and _bakémono_ (devils and ghosts) had been successfully exorcized. When I read my old notes of all these things I seem to be looking across a long vista of forgotten centuries into the gloom of prehistoric times; I am transported back into the days when the God Hachiman decided the fates of battles, when Inari Sama and his foxes ruled the harvest, and Benten was the supreme Queen Goddess of beauty.

Playgoing in the old days, before the restoration in 1868, was entirely confined to the lower classes; no gentleman could afford to be seen in a public theatre; in private, it is true that famous actors would occasionally be hired to give a representation at the _yashiki_ of some rich noble, to whom the ordinary performance would be forbidden. There were, however, certain classical dances and plays which were specially performed in theatres attached to the palaces. The _bugaku_, for instance, were dances or pantomime plays the performance of which was confined to the Emperor’s palace, so that very few Japanese, and those only of the highest rank, ever witnessed them.[19] The Nō, on the other hand, were a kind of classical opera performed on stages called _nō butai_, which were attached to the _yashiki_ of some of the great nobles. These operas—I know no better name for them—are of the greatest antiquity. They are supposed to recall the performances by which the Sun Goddess was lured out of the cave in which she had hidden in order to escape from the persecutions of her turbulent brother—a legend which is supposed to have been the poetic explanation of the first eclipse. They had, moreover, a religious intention in the first instance, having been arranged at the Emperor’s command by one Hada Rawakatsu in the last decade of the sixth century. A special performance of Nō was given in honour of the Duke of Edinburgh in the _yashiki_ of the Prince of Kishiu—which had the reputation of being, after the Castle, the most luxurious palace in Yedo.

This was the first time that such a performance was witnessed by foreigners. Opposite the principal reception room, where his Royal Highness sat, and separated from it by a narrow courtyard, was a covered stage, approached from the green-room by a long gallery at an angle of forty-five degrees. Half a dozen musicians, robed in dresses of ceremony, marched slowly down the gallery—something like the entrance of the actors in _Sumurun_, as arranged by Reinhardt—and having squatted down on the stage, gravely made obeisance. The performances then began. There was no scenery, no stage appliances; the descriptions of the chorus or the actors took their place. The dialogue and choruses were given in a nasal recitative, accompanied by the mouth-organ, flute, drum and other classical instruments. The ancient poetry of these pieces is full of the most delicate fancies obscured by archaic puns and plays upon words; so it was with no little difficulty that, with the assistance of a man of letters, I prepared the arguments of the plays.

I published these long years ago,[20] so there is no need to repeat them here.

During the Duke’s stay there were entertainments of all sorts, for the Japanese were determined that he should carry away the happiest memories of his visit. The most famous of the fat wrestlers of Japan, monstrous mountains of adipose tissue, gave a show and there were dancers, musicians, conjurors; Chō-chō San[21] came specially for the butterfly trick, which has never been so well described as by Sherard Osborn in that long-since-forgotten little gem, “A Cruise in Japanese Waters.”

All these were shown in a setting the beauty of which it would be hard to exaggerate. The garden of Hama-go-ten was a masterpiece of Japanese horticulture. I believe that it no longer exists, the land having been sold for commercial purposes. When the first part was sold I had the luck to be able to buy two of the great bronze lanterns which decorated it. How little I thought when I used to wander through the lovely grounds during the weeks which I spent there making ready for the Duke that one day many years later two of the precious ornaments which I admired so much would find their way to my own home in far-away Gloucestershire!

The most interesting episode of the visit was, of course, the reception by the Emperor at the Castle. The official reception took place in the audience chamber; his Royal Highness, Sir Harry Parkes, Sir Henry Keppel and the officers in attendance on the Duke were shown into the room where the Mikado stood on a raised dais with two of his personal attendants and the Prime Minister behind him. The Duke and I took our places on the dais opposite to the Mikado. It was rather nervous work for me, for it is so easy to bungle into some absurd mistake where foreign etiquette and a very stately phraseology have to be observed; however, it all went off well, there were the usual commonplaces exchanged, and then his Majesty invited his Royal Highness to meet him more privately in the garden.

After a short delay, during which the Princes and dignitaries of the Court came to pay their respects, the Duke was shown into the delicious little Maple Tea-house in the Castle gardens, where tea and all manner of delicacies were served. Then came a summons to the Waterfall Pavilion, where the Emperor was waiting; only Sir Harry, the Admiral, and myself went in with the Duke. Dull is the office of the Court newsman! Difficult it is to become artistically enthusiastic over the presentation of diamond-mounted snuff-boxes! But this particular Court ceremony was certainly something out of the common. It can never occur again. East and West were sharply defined. There were no cocked hats or gold-laced coats among the Japanese of those days. The Emperor and all his Court were living pictures out of the dark centuries.

The next time that I saw the Mikado was on the occasion of my second visit to Japan, in 1873. He was sitting back in a barouche, surrounded by an escort of lancers, dressed, like himself, in European uniform. A modern of the moderns.

When I went for the third time, in 1906, with Prince Arthur of Connaught, his Majesty reminded me of that visit in 1869, when I acted as interpreter—but he was now surrounded by a Court in which the men were all the counterparts of European ministers, their breasts covered with stars and decorations from potentates great and small, and the ladies all wore tiaras and dresses from Paquin’s! Alas for the vanishing of the Picturesque!

The Japanese Government were very grateful for the trouble which I had taken to make the Royal visit a success, and when the Duke left the Foreign Ministers sent me a very pretty letter of thanks, with a lacquer box, which the English Foreign Office allowed me to accept.

AN AUSTRIAN MISSION

Towards the end of 1869 there came an Austrian Mission to conclude a treaty with Japan. As usual we pulled the chestnuts out of the fire for them. The Mission was commended to our good offices and we had to dry-nurse them, put them up to the ropes, and furnish them with an interpreter. The head of the Mission was Admiral Petz, the hero of Lissa, a most interesting personality; the second in command, charged with the negotiation of the commercial details of the affair, was Baron Calice, who afterwards made a sort of name for himself as Austro-Hungarian Ambassador at Constantinople.

With the Admiral I made great friends. One day as we were sitting together watching the picturesque junks sailing to and fro in front of a great warship in the Bay of Yedo, he gave me an account of the battle of Lissa in which he had played so great a part three years before. The island of Lissa, practically an Austrian fortress plunged in the Adriatic sea, was attacked on the 18th of July, 1866, by the Italian fleet under Admiral Persano. The Austrian Admiral Tegethoff went out to relieve the besieged stronghold, and on the 20th the great sea-fight took place. Admiral Petz’s story of the battle was most exciting. Although ironclads had been in existence for some years, Lissa must have been the first

## action in which they played their part. The Italian fleet, with eleven

armoured ships and a powerful ram, was by far the stronger; the Austrians had only seven. The wooden ships on the two sides were about even in number.

Admiral Petz, then Commodore, was in command of the _Kaiser_, an old-fashioned wooden battleship. There was a moment when he was engaged at close quarters with three Italian ironclads, the four ships blazing away for dear life or death. He was on the bridge, half choked and blinded by the thick, poisonous smoke and flames belched out by his own and the enemy’s guns, his ears deafened by the roar of the cannon. It was like hell-fire let loose upon the waters. All of a sudden a puff of wind cleared the air, and to his dismay he saw the huge bulk of the dreaded _Ré d’Italia_, supposed to be the most powerful armoured vessel afloat, bearing down upon him. Iron attacking oak; an unequal fight. It was a horror: if she rammed him it was certain death for all. A sudden inspiration struck him; he had just time to make a despairing dash at the monster before she could reach him. He gave the necessary order, full steam ahead, charged and drove his bows into her, striking her amidships. To his amazement the blow crashed into her, boring a huge hole in her iron sides as easily as if they had been made of paper, and the great terror sank into the sea with all her crew.

The Austrians had had the best of it all through the fight, another ironclad, the _Palestro_, had been blown up, the other three, with which Petz had been engaged, were badly hurt, and now this last disaster broke the Italians and sent them in full flight to Ancona. The battle was won! Admiral Tegethoff summoned his captains to the flagship, and when they were all drawn up on the quarterdeck, he went up to Petz, kissed him on both cheeks, and said: “This is your victory!”

The _Kaiser_ was naturally very much mauled, but the wooden ship had scored; she had practically disabled two other ironclads and battered a third before sinking the _Ré d’Italia_, and could carry her wounds bravely into port.

Long years afterwards at luncheon at the Travellers’ Club, I was telling the story as I had it from Admiral Petz himself. My dear old friend, Lord Alcester, the famous admiral, who was nothing if not stiff in opinions, stoutly denied the possibility of a wooden ship in any circumstances sinking an ironclad; but

“Facts are chiels that winna ding And downa be disputed,”

the _Ré d’Italia_ with her crew of six hundred lies at the bottom of the Adriatic, the _Kaiser_ came away a cripple covered with glory, and her gallant Commodore received the Maria-Teresien order—a distinction even more rarely bestowed than the V.C. To earn it three conditions must be fulfilled—the feat must have been performed at risk of life; it must have been spontaneous, without any superior command, and it must be successful.

It was good to hear the brave sailor tell his tale, simply and without any suspicion of vainglory. He would not admit that he had done anything wonderful. He saw death before him as he stood on the bridge—a sudden idea flashed across his brain—Impossible? Why not try? That was all.

* * * * *

On the 1st of January, 1870, I left Japan. The work of the last two years had told upon me. I was out of health, and had almost to be carried on board ship by our good Doctor Willis. I went to Singapore, and there awaited the arrival of the Messageries ship _Hoogly_, which was to bring my friend and colleague, Gustave de Montebello, who afterwards, as Ambassador at St. Petersburg, initiated the _entente_ between France and Russia, which was destined to bear fruits which now, in 1915, are ripening to their full value. A month of the _dolce far niente_ at Singapore, a life of lotus-eating, resting in a luxurious rattan chair, breathing in a balmy, spice-laden atmosphere on a verandah broad enough to protect me from any insidious attacks of the sun, set me quite on my legs again, and by the time my friend arrived, I was as lively as a thrush, and ready to enjoy the delights of a voyage with one of the most agreeable of companions, both of us hungry for home, and yet full of the memories of our past experiences.

Montebello was not well treated by his Government. I met him in Switzerland not long before his death; he had been superseded, and his political foresight had not been recognized as it should have been; but he was too great a gentleman to express any resentment, even to me. He died as he had lived, a noble Frenchman, chivalrous to the last. But that he felt acutely I well knew.

Our voyage had an element of excitement in it. At Singapore we were told that we were to go through the Suez Canal. If so, we should be the first ship to go through as a matter of business, apart from the vessels that had taken part in the gala proceedings at the opening. At Point de Galle we heard that it was impossible. At Aden there was a fresh contradiction, and when we reached Suez, through we went! We stuck in the middle and smashed one flange of our screw, but in spite of that we reached Marseilles all right, and were immediately put in quarantine, because a poor fellow had died of consumption on board, and been buried at sea in the Red Sea. Montebello used his official position to get himself and me landed in spite of all objections, we being bearers of despatches—for I took good care never to travel without a Foreign Office bag—and so with all expedition we reached Paris.

_APPENDIX_

GOVERNMENT TREATISE ON POLITICS AND RELIGION, PUBLISHED TO THE PEOPLE

(_Translation_)

“JIM MIN KOKU YU DAI I”

INTRODUCTION TO PART I

This treatise, the “Koku Yu Dai I,” is published with the object of making known the institutions of the Country of the Gods, and of declaring the intentions of the Imperial Government, and to this end five copies will be distributed to every Kori or parochial sub-division of every province throughout the country. The officials, and not only they, but all well-disposed men, will give their earnest attention to this object, and will exert themselves to instruct all persons, down to the women and children, in the principles of this treatise.

The privilege of publishing this treatise has been granted to the Imperial Library of Kiōto, kept by Murakami Kambei, and all persons may freely purchase it.

The above will be made known throughout all the sub-divisions of the Province of Yamashiro.

(_Signed_) GOVERNMENT OF KIŌTO.

“KOKU YU DAI I”

Man is the sublime essence of all things. Between heaven and earth there is no more honourable thing than man. Our country is specially called the Country of the Gods, and of all the countries in the world there is none the institutions of which excel those of our country. Is it not a disgrace past speaking of that the privileged being called man, who dwells in the excellent Country of the Gods, should pass his life in heedless vanity? Man differs from the birds and from the beasts in that he can discern the laws of reason, and in that he has a heart capable of gratitude and virtue. Loyalty and filial piety are also the essence of the heart of man. He who in ever so slight a degree is wanting in this heart has the face of a man but the soul of a beast, and though he be shaped as a man, yet is he even less than the birds and the beasts.

If, then, a man wishes to fulfil his duties as a man, and having been born in the Country of the Gods desires not to turn his back upon the spirits of that country, let him above all things bear in mind the privilege of being born a Japanese, and set his heart upon repaying the debt of gratitude which he owes to his country.

We have said that the institutions of the Country of the Gods excel those of other countries. Of old the heavenly ancestors of the Emperor created this country, and established the duties of men in their mutual relations. Since that time the line of Emperors has never been changed. Generation has succeeded generation in the rule of this country, and the Imperial heart has ever been penetrated by a tender love for the people. In their turn the people have reverenced and served generation after generation of Emperors. In foreign countries the lines of Princes have been frequently changed; the people owe their Sovereign a debt of gratitude which extends over two or three generations; the relations of Sovereign and subject last for a hundred or two hundred years; the Prince of yesterday is the foe of to-day; the minister of yesterday is the rebel of to-morrow.

In our country we have no such folly. Since the creation of the world we have remained unmoved; since the creation of the world the Imperial line has been unchanged and the relations of Sovereign and subject have been undisturbed; hence it is that the spirit of gratitude has intensified and grown deeper and deeper. The especial point in which the institutions of our country excel those of the rest of the world is the creed which has been established by the heavenly ancestors of the Emperor, and which comprises the mutual duties between lord and servant.

Even in foreign countries, where lords and servants have over and over again changed places, these mutual duties are handed down as a matter of weighty importance. How much the more does it behove us to pay a debt of deep and inexhaustible gratitude which extends over the ages.

Is there any man who thinks that he has never received a penny from the Emperor? Is there any man who thinks that he is not beholden to the Emperor for one tittle of help in his need? Is there any man who believes that it is of his own merit that he passes through the world, and who feels not the favours which he has received from his country? If there be such a man, great is his mistake. He is like the man in the proverb who is grateful for the light borrowed from his lamp, but is heedless of the thanks which he owes to the moon and to the sun.

The favours which a man receives from his country are so vast as to be without bounds. Reflect carefully upon this. Since it is by the heavenly ancestors of the Emperor that this country was created, there is no single thing existing in the land which is not the Emperor’s. At our birth the water in which we are washed is the Emperor’s. At our death the ground in which we are buried is the Emperor’s. The rice which we eat, the clothes which we wear, the cap which we put on, the staff which supports us, are all the produce of the Emperor’s land.

Again, the money which enables us to pass through life easily is coined by the will of the Emperor; so that whether we hoard our wealth or give out our coin to meet our daily wants, it is by the help of the Emperor that we are able to transact our business.

Further, lest wicked men should hinder us, offices and guard-houses are established in different places. Ruffians and thieves are punished; children may be trusted to walk abroad with money, and no man will rob them; old men and women may be left to watch the house, and lawless men will not break in. You plant your fields with rice and your gardens with green things. You set out goods for sale and clothes to dry in your shops and wayside stalls, and no man comes to steal them; here is no small cause of gratitude. If perchance any evil deed should be done, no means are left untried to discover the guilty man, and the Imperial orders are issued to punish him according to his crime.

If there were no such Imperial authority to exercise justice, each man would have to trust to his own strength. The weak would be slain by the strong; the old would be pushed over by the young; rice and money would be seized by force. But since this exercise of justice exists, although a single or double hedge may be easily broken through, there is no need to set guards, for there are none to force an entrance, and so we pass our lives in peace and safety.

There are yet further ways in which the generations of Emperors have cared for the sorrow of their people. Remember with reverence that there was once an Emperor who in the cold winter night stripped his clothes that he might know by his own feelings the sufferings of the poor.[22] When he looked at the rice before him he reflected that the grain was planted by the sweat of the farmers, and acknowledged their labours. We must be truly grateful that morning and night the Emperor’s prayers have been offered up that his people might be spared from storm and from rain; from famine, plague, and cholera. Nor is it for ourselves alone, nor for our generation only, that our gratitude is due. Since the creation of the world generation after generation of our ancestors have passed their lives under the shadow of their Emperors. How many endless generations of our children’s children shall be nurtured under the same gracious protection?

During the last three hundred years, the land being at peace, the power of the Emperor was gradually relaxed. Although the Emperor existed, it was as though he were no more. The consideration and love of the Emperor for his people did not reach them; it was arrested on its way. Bribery and corruption flourished; even good men fell into evil ways, and bad men prospered. The Emperor was greatly afflicted; he neither ate nor rested in peace. Still, however great might be the afflictions which he had to undergo himself, they were as nothing to those which he suffered on account of his people’s grief.

Now at last the Imperial Government has been restored to its ancient form; the affairs of the country are placed upon a brilliant basis; the hearts of great and small are united; the desires of all men have been accomplished, and men may more than ever pass their lives in peaceful tranquillity. Preserving those institutions in which the Emperor’s country excels all other countries, we will illustrate the power of our Emperor to the world. Reverently receiving the Imperial will, we will humbly obey his commands; we will set our hearts upon serving him for his sake. Bent upon requiting every particle or hair’s breadth of favour received during generations after generations, we will not turn our backs upon our duty as the people of the Country of the Gods.

First year of Meiji (1868).

(Printed officially by the Imperial Printers. Published at Kiōto by Murakami Kambei and Inouyé Jihei; at Yedo, by Mohei at the Suwaraya; and Ichibei, at the Idzumiya.)

INTRODUCTION TO PART II

On a former occasion in the first part of this treatise, we set forth the institutions of the Country of the Gods, and made known the will of the Imperial Government; in continuation of this we now publish a second part, in which we shall treat of the form and power of the countries of the world, and shall show how the best interests of our divine country may be served. Officials and all well-disposed men will give their earnest attention to this object, and will exert themselves to instruct all persons, down to the women and children, in the principles of this treatise.

The privilege of publishing this treatise has been granted to the Imperial Library at Kiōto, kept by Murakami Kambei, and all persons may freely purchase it.

## PART II

On the occasion of the Imperial journey to Yedo last year, his Majesty took upon himself the direction of the machinery of the State. Up to that time the precepts of the Emperor had not reached the Eastern Provinces of the country. While the accumulated masses of business were only half-accomplished, the days and nights had sped swiftly, and the period for the celebration of rites on the third anniversary of the death of the late Emperor had come round.

His Majesty accordingly in the first place returned to Kiōto, and having concluded the funeral rites and his own marriage ceremony, he gave orders for his second visit to Yedo. Thus does he again subject his sacred person to fatigue, and although it may be said that this is owing to the spirit of the time, yet it is in truth a matter to be grateful for, and the people, perceiving the Emperor’s intentions, should deeply and carefully lay them to heart.

Now the spirit of the present differs from the spirit of the past. The countries of the world have joined themselves in a relationship of peace and friendship. Steamers are sent round the world, heedless of stormy waves or of foul winds. The communication between lands distant ten thousand miles from one another is as that between neighbours; country competes with country in producing rifles and guns and machinery, and each revolves plans for its own advantage and profit. Each vies with the other in devising schemes to obtain the mastery, each exerts itself to keep up the strength of its armies, each and everyone strives to invent warlike contrivances. But in spite of all this, there is a great principle existing over all the world which prevents civilized countries from being lightly and lawlessly attacked.

This principle is called international law. How much the more, then, would our divine country, the institutions of which excel those of all other countries, be turning her back upon the sacred precepts established by the heavenly ancestors of the Emperor should she be guilty of violent and lawless acts. Such a thing would be the greatest shame and disgrace to the Country of the Gods. Hence it is that the Emperor has extended a faithful alliance to those foreigners who come here lawfully and rightly, and they are allowed free and uninterrupted access to this country. Following this example set by the Emperor, his subjects when they receive no insult from the foreigner should observe the same principle and refrain from blows and fighting. If by any chance we should be put to shame before the foreigner it is hard to say what consequences may ensue.

It is our especial duty to publish to the world beyond the seas the ancient spirit of the Country of the Gods and the excellent institutions established by the heavenly ancestors of the Emperor, that the countries of the world may admire and envy the power of our Sovereign. To this end it is above all things needful that the whole of Japan should be penetrated by the Imperial precepts, and that the strength of the country should be united in one whole. Without this it will be hard for the spirit of the country to stand, without this, on the contrary, we shall have to endure the scorn of foreign nations.

Should so much as a hair’s end of shame attach to the Country of the Gods, what excuse can we offer to the long line of Emperors who succeeded their heavenly ancestors. To be the cause of grief to the Emperor is worse than irreverence.

The country districts of the Eastern Provinces are far removed from the capital, and there are persons who, not awed by the will of the Emperor, subject the people, as it were, to torture by fire and torture by water. Terrible as the conduct of such men is, the great mercy and pity of the Emperor’s heart acknowledges that their fault is to be laid to the fact that his precepts have not reached them; we see with reverent gratitude that he takes their sins upon himself and that his generous rule spares them. Further, that by the spreading of his precepts all ignorance may cease, he undertakes a long journey, braving the heat and the cold, and exposing his precious person to fatigue.

As far as the extreme limits of the islands of Yesso and of Liukiu the Emperor treats all men who are born on Japanese soil as his own children. He makes no distinctions between men—caressing the one and repelling the other. He looks upon all alike, his mercy extends to all. His compassionate love for his people knows no rest by day or by night. After a while he will be pleased to visit all his dominions. The present capital, Kiōto, has been the Imperial residence for more than a thousand years, and in its sacred earth are buried the ancestors of the Emperor.

It follows that of all places that is the place which the Emperor reveres the most. You, whose special privilege it is to dwell near this spot, bathed in the dew of the Emperor’s deep mercy, reverently acknowledge his will, and penetrated by the sense of this feeling, in all matters humbly obey his commands. Loyalty and filial piety arouse you to observe our upright and excellent institutions. Let each man zealously perform his special duties, that he may relieve the mind of the Emperor of its troubles, and let each man, so far as in him lies, set his heart upon the sacred cause of our divine country.

Second year of Meiji (1869).

(Printed officially by the Imperial Printers, Yedo. Published by Mohei at the Suwaraya, in the first ward of the Nihonbashi Street, and by Ichibei at the Idzumiya in the Mishima at Shiba.)

INCLOSURE 2 IN NO. 12

EXTRACT FROM THE GOVERNMENT “GAZETTE” OF MARCH 15th, 1869

(_Translation_)

The book called “Kiōto Fu Koku Yu Dai I” (or Imperial Precepts published to the people by the Government of Kiōto) will be circulated throughout the cities, clans, and districts for the instruction of the people in matters of politics and religion. Although the publication of pirated editions of other books is strictly forbidden, an exception is made in favour of this book.

##