Part 6

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_.