XLVI. The Meiji Government
THE LEADERS OF REFORM
IN describing the events that culminated in the fall of the Tokugawa, frequent references have been made to the feudatories. But it should be clearly understood that the feudal chiefs themselves had very little to do with the consummation of this great change. “The men that conceived and achieved the Revolution of 1867, were chiefly samurai of inferior grade.” They numbered fifty-five in all, and of these only thirteen were aristocrats, namely, five feudal barons and eight court nobles. The average age of these fifty-five did not exceed thirty years.
THE EMPEROR’S OATH
The great clans which took part in bringing about this restoration of the administrative power to the Emperor did not altogether trust one another. Hitherto, all political commotions had been planned for the sake of some prominent family or eminent leader, and had resulted merely in altering the personnel of those occupying the seats of power. It was not unnatural that history should have been expected to repeat itself in 1867, especially since the clan mainly responsible, Satsuma, overshadowed all its associates with one exception. Therefore, to many onlookers it seemed that the Tokugawa Government had been overthrown to make room for the all-powerful southern feudatory. In order to provide a safeguard against such a danger, the young Emperor was asked to make oath that a broadly based deliberative assembly should be convened for the purpose of conducting State affairs in conformity with public opinion. This “coronation oath,” as it was subsequently called, came to occupy an important place in political appreciation, and to be interpreted as a promise of a national assembly. But most assuredly it was not originally intended to carry any such meaning. Its framers never contemplated a parliament in the Occidental sense of the term. Their sole object was to place a barrier in the path of their own selfish ambitions.
ABOLITION OF FEUDALISM
It is more than doubtful whether the abolition of the feudal system found a place in the original plan of the leaders of progress. Looking back to remote centuries, they may well have imagined that the unification of the empire under one supreme ruler, administering as well as governing, was not incompatible with the existence of the fiefs. But when they examined the problem more closely, they recognized that a universally operative system of laws, a central treasury, and the supreme command of the nation’s armaments were essential to the end they had in view, namely, strength derived from unity. Hitherto, each feudatory had assessed and collected taxes within his fief according to his own free-will, had exercised the right of legislation, and had held the command of all troops within his territories.
The continuance of such conditions would have defeated the purpose of the reformers. This they recognized. But how were these prescriptive privileges to be abolished? An Imperial mandate might indeed have been issued, but even an Imperial mandate without the means of enforcing it would probably have proved futile. In fact, compulsion in any form could not be employed: the only resource was persuasion. The feudatories of Satsuma, Choshu, Tosa, and Hizen were the four most puissant in the empire. They were persuaded to surrender their fiefs to the Throne and to ask for reorganization under a uniform system of law. This example found many imitators. Out of the whole 276 feudatories only seventeen failed to make a similar surrender. It was a wonderful display of patriotic altruism in the case of some, at any rate, of the daimyo. But, at the same time, many undoubtedly obeyed the suggestions of their chief vassals without fully appreciating the cost of obedience. It had long been their habit to abandon the management of their affairs to seneschals (karo), and they followed the custom on this occasion without profound reflection.
With the samurai at large, however, the case was different. For them, the preservation of the fief had always been the prime object of interest and fealty. To uphold it concerned their honour; to preserve it, their means of livelihood. Nothing could have been more remarkable than that these men should have quietly acquiesced in the surrender of legislative and financial autonomy by their chiefs. The most credible explanation is that on this great occasion the samurai obeyed their habitual custom of associating some form of self-immolation with every signal deed.
THE NEW ORGANIZATION
The total abolition of feudalism may be said to have now come in sight, but the leading progressists adopted all precautions to consummate their programme without disturbance. They resolved to preserve, at the outset, the semblance of the old system, and to that end the ex-feudatories were nominated to the post of governor in the districts where they had formerly exercised autonomic power. The samurai, however, were left in possession of their incomes and official positions. It was enacted that each governor should receive yearly one-tenth of the revenue of his former fief; that the emoluments of the samurai should be taken in full from the same source, and that the surplus, if any, should go to the Central Government.
The latter was organized with seven departments, namely, Religion, Home Affairs, Foreign Affairs, Army and Navy, Finance, Justice, and Law. This Cabinet was presided over by a premier—necessarily an Imperial prince—and by a vice-premier. Moreover, it was assisted by a body of eighteen councillors, who comprised the leaders of reform. Evidently, however, all this was only partial. It is true that the fiefs (hari) had been converted into prefectures (ken), and it is also true that the daimyo had become mere governors. But, on the other hand, the local revenues continued to pass through the hands of the governors, and in the same hands remained the control of the samurai and the right of appointing and dismissing prefectural officials. A substantial beginning had been made, however, and presently another appeal being addressed to the ex-daimyo, they were induced to petition for the surrender of their local autonomy. The same plan was pursued in the case of the samurai. It was essential that these should cease to be hereditary soldiers and officials and should be reabsorbed into the mass of the people from whom they had sprung originally. Following the course which had proved so successful with the feudatories, a number of samurai were induced to memorialize for permission to lay aside their swords and revert to agriculture. But neither in the case of the feudatories nor in that of the samurai were these self-sacrificing petitions carried into immediate practice. They merely served as models.
CLAN REPRESENTATION
It may well be supposed that the ambitions of the great clans by which this revolution has been effected proved somewhat difficult to reconcile. The Satsuma feudatory was the first to take umbrage. He contended that, in selecting the high officials of the new organization, sufficient account had not been taken of the services of his fief. With considerable difficulty he was satisfied by his own appointment to an office second only to that of prime minister. This incident led, however, to an agreement under which each of the great clans, Satsuma, Choshu, Hizen, and Tosa, should be equally represented in the Government. Thus, the “principle of clan-representation received practical recognition in the organization of the Government. It continued to be recognized for many years, and ultimately became the chief target of attack by party-politicians.” It was further arranged, at this time, that each of the above four clans should furnish a contingent of troops to guard the sovereign’s person and to form the nucleus of a national army.
ABOLITION OF LOCAL AUTONOMY
It being now considered safe to advance to the next stage of the mediatization of the fiefs, the Emperor issued an edict abolishing local autonomy; removing the sometime daimyo from their post of prefectural governor; providing that the local revenues should thereafter be sent into the central treasury; declaring the appointment and dismissal of officials to be among the prerogatives of the Imperial Government; directing that the ex-feudatories should continue to receive one-tenth of their former incomes but that they should make Tokyo* their place of permanent residence, and ordaining that the samurai should be left in continued and undisturbed possession of all their hereditary pensions and allowances.
*Yedo was now called Tokyo, or “Eastern Capital;” and Kyoto was named
Saikyo, or “Western Capital.”
These changes were not so momentous as might be supposed at first sight. It is true that the ex-feudatories were reduced to the position of private gentlemen without even a patent of nobility. But, as a matter of fact, the substance of administrative power had never been possessed by them: it had been left in most cases to their seneschals. Thus, the loss of what they had never fully enjoyed did not greatly distress them. Moreover, they were left in possession of the accumulated funds of their former fiefs, and, at the same time, an income of one-tenth of their feudal revenues was guaranteed to them—a sum which generally exceeded their former incomes when from the latter had been deducted all charges on account of the maintenance of the fiefs. Therefore, the sacrifice they were required to make was not so bitter after all, but that it was a very substantial sacrifice there can be no question.
THE SAMURAI’S POSITION
The above edict was promulgated on August 29, 1871; that is to say, nearly four years after the fall of the Tokugawa. The samurai, however, remained to be dealt with. Feudalism could not be said to have been abolished so long as the samurai continued to be a class apart. These men numbered four hundred thousand and with their families represented a total of about two million souls. They were the empire’s soldiers, and in return for devoting their lives to military service they held incomes, some for life, others hereditary, and these emoluments aggregated two millions sterling annually. No reformer, however radical, would have suggested the sudden disestablishment of the samurai system or advocated the wholesale deprivation of incomes won by their forefathers as a reward for loyal service to the State or to the fiefs.
The Government dealt with this problem much as it had done with the problem of the feudatories. In 1873, an Imperial decree announced that the treasury was ready to commute the samurai’s incomes on the basis of six-years’ purchase in the place of hereditary pensions and four years for life-pensions, half of the money to be paid in cash and the remainder in bonds carrying eight per cent, interest. This measure was in no sense compulsory; the samurai were free to accept or reject it. Not a few chose the former course, but a large majority continued to wear their swords and draw their pensions as of old. The Government, however, felt that there could be no paltering with the situation. Shortly after the issue of the above edict a conscription law was enacted, by which every adult male became liable for military service, whatever his social status. Naturally, this law shocked the samurai. The heavy diminution of their incomes hurt them less, perhaps, than the necessity of laying aside their swords and of giving up their traditional title to represent their country in arms. They had imagined that service in the army and navy would be reserved exclusively for them and their sons, whereas by the conscription law the commonest unit of the people became equally eligible.
ENGRAVING: KIDO KOIN
FRICTION AMONG THE LEADERS OF REFORM
It could not have: been expected that this manner of treating the samurai would obtain universal approval. Already, too, the strain of constructive statesmanship had developed friction among the progressist leaders who had easily marched abreast for destructive purposes. They differed about the subject of a national assembly, some being inclined to attach more practical importance than others to the Emperor’s coronation oath that a broadly based deliberative assembly should be convened. A small number of zealous reformers wished to regard this as a promise of a national assembly, but the great majority of the progressist leaders interpreted it merely as a guarantee against the undue preponderance of any one clan. In fact, according to the view of the latter party the broadly based deliberative assembly was regarded solely as an instrument for eliciting the views of the samurai, and entirely without legislative power. Such an assembly was actually convened in the early years of the Meiji era, but its second session proved it to be nothing more than a debating club and it was suffered to lapse out of existence.
A more perplexing problem now (1873) presented itself, however. The Korean Court deliberately abandoned the custom followed by it since the time of Hideyoshi’s invasion—the custom of sending a present-bearing embassy to felicitate the accession of each shogun. Moreover, this step was accompanied by an offensive despatch announcing a determination to cease all relations with a renegade from the civilization of the Orient. It may well be imagined how indignantly this attitude of the neighbouring kingdom was resented by Japan. The prominent leaders of national reform at that time were Sanjo and Iwakura, originally Court nobles;* Saigo and Okubo, samurai of Satsuma, and Kido, a samurai of Choshu. In the second rank were several men destined afterwards to attain great celebrity—the late Prince Ito, Marquis Inouye, Count Okuma, Count Itagaki—often spoken of as the “Rousseau of Japan”—and several others.
*The distinction between Court nobles and territorial nobles had been abolished in 1871.
ENGRAVING: SANJO SANETOMI
The first five, however, were pre-eminent at the moment when Korea sent her offensive message. They were not, however, absolutely united as to policy. Saigo Takamori held some conservative opinions, the chief of which was that he wished to preserve the military class in their old position of the empire’s only soldiers. He had, therefore, greatly resented the conscription law, and while his discontent was still fresh, the Korean problem presented itself for solution. In Saigo’s eyes an oversea war offered the only chance of saving the samurai, since the conscription law had not yet produced any trustworthy soldiers. He therefore voted to draw the sword at once, and in this he obtained the support of several influential men who burned to avenge the nation’s disgrace. On the other hand, those in favour of peace insisted that the country must not venture to engage in a foreign war during the era of radical transition.
The discussion was carried to the Emperor’s presence; the peace-party prevailed, and Saigo with three other Cabinet ministers resigned. One of the seceders, Eto Shimpei, had recourse to arms, but was speedily crushed. Another, Itagaki Taisuke, from that moment stood forth as the champion of representative institutions. The third, the most prominent of all, Saigo Takamori, retired to Satsuma and devoted himself to organizing and equipping a strong body of samurai. It is not by any means clear that, in thus acting, Saigo had any revolutionary intention. Posterity agrees in thinking that he sought to exercise control rather than to inspire revolt. He had the support of Shimazu Saburo (Hisamitsu), former feudatory of Satsuma, who, although a reformer, resented a wholesale abandonment of Japanese customs in favour of foreign. The province of Satsuma thus became a seed-plot of conservative influences, where “Saigo and his constantly augmenting band of samurai found a congenial environment.” On the one hand, the Central Government steadily proceeded with the organization of a conscript army, teaching it foreign tactics and equipping it with foreign arms. On the other, the southern clan cherished its band of samurai, arming them with the rifle and drilling them in the manner of Europe, but leaving them always in possession of the samurai’s sword.
ENGRAVING: IWAKURA TOMOYOSHI
THE FORMOSAN EXPEDITION
Before these curious conditions bore any practical fruit, Japan found it necessary to send a military expedition to Formosa. That island was claimed as part of China’s domains, but it was not administered by her effectively, and its inhabitants showed great barbarity in their treatment of castaways from the Ryukyu, or Loochoo, Islands. The Chinese Government’s plain function was to punish these acts of cruelty, but as the Peking statesmen showed no disposition to discharge their duty in that respect, Japan took the law into her own hands. A double purpose was thus served. For the expedition to Formosa furnished employment for the Satsuma samurai, and, at the same time, assured the Ryukyu islanders that Japan was prepared to protect them.
The campaign in Formosa proved a very tame affair. It amounted to the shooting-down of a few semi-savages. No attempt was made to penetrate into the ulterior of the island, where, as modern experience shows, many great difficulties would have had to be overcome. Peking took serious umbrage on account of Japan’s high-handed conduct—for such it seemed to Chinese eyes. In the first place, the statesmen of the Middle Kingdom contended that the Ryukyu Islands could not properly be regarded as an integral part of the Japanese empire; and in the second place, they claimed that, in attacking Formosa, Japan had invaded Chinese territory. After a long interchange of despatches the Tokyo Government sent an ambassador to Peking, and a peaceful solution was found in the payment by China of a small indemnity, and the recognition of Formosa as a part of the Middle Kingdom.*
*The indemnity amounted to 500,000 dollars (Mexican).
THE KOREAN QUESTION AGAIN
The Formosan expedition took place in 1874, and, in the fall of 1875, a Korean fort opened fire on a Japanese warship which was engaged in surveying the coast. Such an insult could not be tamely endured. Japan marshalled an imposing number of warships and transports, but, following the example set in her own case by Commodore Perry, she employed this flotilla to intimidate Korea into signing a treaty of amity and commerce and opening certain ports to foreign trade. Thus, Korea was drawn from her hereditary isolation, and to Japan fell the credit of having become an instrument for extending the principle of universal intercourse which she had herself so stoutly opposed during two and a half centuries. It was a clever coup, but it earned little credit with the samurai. They regarded such a settlement as derogatory to their country.
ABOLITION OF THE SAMURAI
It was at this stage that the Tokyo Government felt itself strong enough to resort to conclusive measures in the cases of the samurai. Three years had now passed since the wearing of swords had been declared optional and since a scheme for the voluntary commutation of the samurai’s pensions had been elaborated. The leaders of progress felt that the time had now come to make these measures compulsory, and, accordingly, two edicts were issued in that sense. The edicts, especially their financial provisions, imposed a heavy sacrifice. But it is very noticeable that the momentary question evoked no protests. It was to the loss of their swords that a number of samurai objected strenuously. Some scores of them, wearing old-fashioned armour and equipped with hereditary weapons, attacked a castle, killed or wounded three hundred of the garrison, and then died by their own hands. Here and there throughout the empire a few equally vain protests were raised, and finally the Satsuma samurai took the field.
THE SATSUMA REBELLION
This insurrection in the south severely taxed the resources of the Central Government. The Satsuma samurai were led by Saigo Takamori, but it has always been claimed for him that he undertook the command, not for the purpose of overthrowing the Meiji Government, but in the hope of restraining his followers. Ultimately, however, he seems to have been swept away by the tide of their enthusiasm. The insurgents numbered some forty thousand; they all belonged to the samurai class, were fully trained in Occidental tactics, and were equipped with rifles and field-guns. Their avowed purpose was to restore the military class to its old position, and to insure to it all the posts in the army and the navy.
Fighting began on January 29, 1877, and ended on September 24th of the same year. All the rebel leaders fell in battle or died by their own hands. During these eight months of warfare, the Government put sixty-six thousand men into the field, and the casualties on both sides totalled thirty-five thousand, or thirty-three per cent, of the whole. Apart from the great issue directly at stake, namely, whether Japan should have a permanent military class, a secondary problem of much interest found a solution in the result. It was the problem whether an army of conscripts, supposed to be lacking in the fighting instinct and believed to be incapable of standing up to do battle with the samurai, could hold its own against the flower of the bushi, as the Satsuma men undoubtedly were. There really never was any substantial reason for doubt about such a subject. The samurai were not racially distinct from the bulk of the nation. They had originally been mere farmers, possessing no special military aptitude. Nevertheless, among all the reforms introduced during the Meiji era, none was counted so hazardous as the substitution of a conscript army for the nation’s traditional soldiers. The Satsuma rebellion disposed finally of the question.
ENGRAVING: SAIGO TAKAMORI
EDUCATION OF THE NATION
Meanwhile the Government had been strenuously seeking to equip the people with the products of Western civilization. It has been shown that the men who sat in the seats of power during the first decade of the Meiji era owed their exalted position to their own intellectual superiority and far-seeing statesmanship. That such men should become the nation’s teachers would have been natural anywhere. But in Japan there was a special reason for the people’s need of official guidance. It had become a traditional habit of the Japanese to look to officialdom for example and direction in everything, and this habit naturally asserted itself with special force when there was question of assimilating a foreign civilization which for nearly three centuries had been an object of national repugnance. The Government, in short, had to inspire the reform movement and, at the same time, to furnish models of its working.
The task was approached with wholesale energy by those in power. In general the direction of the work was divided among foreigners of different nations. Frenchmen were employed in revising the criminal code and in teaching strategy and tactics to the Japanese army. The building of railways, the installation of telegraphs and of lighthouses, and the new navy were turned over to English engineers and sailors. Americans were employed in the formation of a postal service, in agricultural reforms, and in planning colonization and an educational system. In an attempt to introduce Occidental ideas of art Italian sculptors and painters were brought to Japan. And German experts were asked to develop a system of local government, to train Japanese physicians, and to educate army officers. Great misgivings were expressed by foreign onlookers at this juncture. They found it impossible to believe that such wholesale adoption of an alien civilization could not be attended with due eclecticism, and they constantly predicted a violent reaction. But all these pessimistic views were contradicted by results. There was no reaction, and the memory of the apprehensions then freely uttered finds nothing but ridicule to-day.
FINANCE
One of the chief difficulties with which the Meiji statesmen had to contend was finance. When they took over the treasury from the Bakufu there were absolutely no funds in hand, and for some years, as has been shown above, all the revenues of the former fiefs were locally expended, no part of them, except a doubtful surplus, finding its way to the Imperial treasury. The only resource was an issue of paper money. Such tokens of exchange had been freely employed since the middle of the seventeenth century, and at the time of the mediatization of the fiefs, 1694 kinds of notes were in circulation.
The first business of the Government should have been to replace these unsecured tokens with uniform and sound media of exchange. But instead of performing that duty the Meiji statesmen saw themselves compelled to follow the evil example set by the fiefs in past times. Government notes were issued. They fell at the outset to a discount of fifty per cent, and various devices, more or less despotic, were employed to compel their circulation at par. By degrees, however, the Government’s credit improved, and thus, though the issues of inconvertible notes aggregated sixty million yen at the close of the first five years of the Meiji era, they passed freely from hand to hand without discount. But, of course, the need for funds in connexion with the wholesale reforms and numerous enterprises inaugurated officially became more and more pressing, so that in the fourteenth year (1881) after the Restoration, the face value of the notes in circulation aggregated 180 million yen, and they stood at a heavy discount.
The Government, after various tentative and futile efforts to correct this state of depreciation, set themselves to deal radically with the problem. Chiefly by buying exporters’ bills and further by reducing administrative expenditures as well as by taxing alcohol, a substantial specie reserve was gradually accumulated, and, by 1885, the volume of fiduciary notes having been reduced to 119 millions, whereas the treasury vaults contained forty-five millions of precious metals, the resumption of specie payments was announced. As for the national debt, it had its origin in the commutation of the feudatories’ incomes and the samurai’s pensions. A small fraction of these outlays was defrayed with ready money, but the great part took the form of public loan-bonds. These bonds constituted the bulk of the State’s liabilities during the first half-cycle of the Meiji era, and when we add the debts of the fiefs, which the Central Government took over; two small foreign loans; the cost of quelling the Satsuma rebellion, and various debts incurred on account of public works, naval construction, and minor purposes, we arrive at the broad fact that the entire national debt of Japan did not exceed 305 million yen at the close of the twenty-eighth year of her new era.
A war with China in 1894-1895—to be presently spoken of—and a war with Russia in 1904-1905, together with the price paid for the nationalization of railways and for various undertakings, brought the whole debt of the nation to 2300 million yen in 1907, which is now being paid off at the rate of fifty million yen annually. It remains to be noted that, in 1897, Japan took the momentous step of adopting gold monometallism. The indemnity which she obtained from China after the war of 1894-1895 brought to her treasury a stock of gold sufficient to form a substantial specie reserve. Moreover, gold had appreciated so that its value in terms of silver had exactly doubled during the first thirty years of the Meiji era. There was consequently no arithmetical complication connected with the adoption of the single gold standard. It was only necessary to double the denomination, leaving the silver subsidiary coins unchanged.
EDUCATION
In the field of education the Meiji statesmen effected speedy reforms. Comparatively little attention had been directed to this subject by the rulers of medieval Japan, and the fact that the Meiji leaders appreciated the necessity of studying the arts and sciences of the new civilization simultaneously with the adoption of its products, bears strong testimony to the insight of these remarkable men. Very shortly after the abolition of feudalism, an extensive system of public schools was organized and education was made compulsory. There were schools, colleges, and universities, all modelled on foreign lines with such alterations as the special customs of the nation dictated. These institutions grew steadily in public favour, and to-day over ninety per cent, of boys and girls who have attained the school age receive education in the common elementary schools, the average annual cost per child being about 8s. 6d. ($2.00), to which the parents contribute 1.75d. (3.5 cents) per month. Youths receiving education enjoy certain exemption from conscription, but as this is in strict accordance with the Western system, it need not be dwelt upon here.
LOCAL ADMINISTRATION
For purposes of local administration the empire is divided into prefectures (ken), counties (gun), towns (shi), and districts (cho or son). The three metropolitan prefectures of Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto are called fu, and their districts are distinguished as “urban” (cho) and “rural” (son), according to the number of houses they contain. The prefectures derive their names from their chief towns. The principle of popular representation is strictly adhered to, every prefecture, every county, every town, and every district having its own local assembly, wherein the number of members is fixed in proportion to the population. These bodies are all elected. The enjoyment of the franchise depends upon a property qualification which, in the case of prefectural and county assemblies, is an annual payment of direct national taxes to the amount of three yen (6s., $1.50); in the case of town and district assemblies two yen; and in the case of prefectural assemblies, ten yen. There are other arrangements to secure the due representation of property, the electors being divided into classes according to their aggregate payment to the national treasury. Three such classes exist, and each elects one-third of an assembly’s members. There is no payment for the members of an assembly, but all salaried officials, ministers of religion, and contractors for public works, as well as persons unable to write their own names and the names of the candidates for whom they vote, are denied the franchise.
A prefectural assembly holds one session of thirty days annually; and a county assembly, one session of not more than fourteen days; while the town and district assemblies are summoned by the mayor or the headman whenever recourse to their deliberation appears expedient. Each prefecture has a prefect (governor) and each county assembly has a headman. Both are appointed by the Central Administration, but an assembly has competence to appeal to the minister of Home Affairs from the prefect’s decisions. In the districts, also, there are headmen, but their post is always elective and generally non-salaried. Other details of the local-government system are here omitted. It suffices to say that the system has been in operation for over thirty years and has been found satisfactory in practice. Moreover, these assemblies constitute excellent schools for the political education of the people.
THE CONSTITUTION
It has already been shown that the sovereign’s so-called coronation oath did not contemplate a national assembly in the Western sense of the term. The first assembly convened in obedience to the oath consisted of nobles and samurai only, and was found to be a virtually useless body. Not till 1873, when Itagaki Taisuke, seceding from the Cabinet on account of the Korean complication, became a warm advocate of appealing national questions to an elective assembly, did the people at large come to understand what was involved in such an institution. Thenceforth Itagaki became the centre of a more or less enthusiastic group of men advocating a parliamentary system, some from sincere motives, and others from a conviction that their failure to obtain posts was in a manner due to the oligarchical form of their country’s polity.
When the Satsuma rebellion broke out, four years later, this band of Tosa agitators memorialized the Government, charging it with administering affairs in despite of public opinion; with ignoring popular rights, and with levelling down instead of up, since the samurai had been reduced to the class of commoners, whereas the latter should have been educated to the standard of the former. But the statesmen in power insisted that the nation was not yet ready to enjoy constitutional privileges. They did not, indeed, labour under any delusion as to the ultimate direction in which their reforms tended, but they were determined to move gradually, not precipitately. They had already (1874) arranged for the convention of an annual assembly of prefects who should act as channels of communication between the central authorities and the people in the provinces. This was designed to be the embryo of representative institutions, though obviously it bore that character in a very limited degree only.
In the following year (1875), the second step was taken by organizing a Senate (Genro-in), which consisted of official nominees and was charged with the duty of discussing and revising laws and ordinances prior to their promulgation. But it had no power of initiative, and its credit in the eyes of the nation was more or less injured by the fact that its members consisted for the most part of men for whom no posts could be found in the administration and who, without some steadying influence, might have been drawn into the current of discontent.
At this stage, an event occurred which probably moved the Government to greater expedition. In the spring of 1878, the great statesman, Okubo Toshimitsu, who had acted such a prominent part on the stage of the reformation drama, was assassinated. His slayers were avowedly sympathizers of Saigo, but in their statement of motives they assigned as their principal incentive the Government’s failure to establish representative institutions. They belonged to a province far removed from Satsuma, and their explanation of the murder showed that they had little knowledge of Saigo’s real sentiments. But the nation saw in them champions of a constitutional form of government, and the authorities appreciated the necessity of greater expedition. Thus, two months after Okubo’s death, the establishment of elective assemblies in the prefectures and cities was proclaimed.
ENGRAVING: OKUBO TOSHIMITSU
Reference has already been made to these and it will suffice here to note that their principal functions were to determine the amount and object of local taxes; to audit the accounts for the previous year; and to petition the Central Government, should that seem expedient. These assemblies represented the foundations of genuinely representative institutions, for although they lacked legislative power, they discharged parliamentary functions in other respects. In fact, they served as excellent training schools for the future Diet. But this did not at all satisfy Itagaki and his followers. They had now persuaded themselves that without a national assembly it would be impossible to oust the clique of clansmen who monopolized the prizes of power. Accordingly, Itagaki organized an association called Jiyu-to (Liberals), the first political party in Japan. Between the men in office and these visionary agitators a time of friction, more or less severe, ensued. The Government withheld from the people the privileges of free speech and public meeting, so that the press and the platform found themselves in frequent collision with the police. Thus, little by little, the Liberals came to be regarded as victims of official tyranny, so that they constantly obtained fresh adherents.
Three years subsequently (1881), another political crisis occurred. Okuma Shigenobu resigned his portfolio, and was followed into private life by many able politicians and administrators. These organized themselves into a party ultimately called Progressists (Shimpo-to), who, although they professed the same doctrine as the Liberals, were careful to maintain an independent attitude; thus showing that “Japan’s first political parties were grouped, not about principles, but about persons.”*
*Encyclopaedia Britannica (11th edition); article “Japan,” by
Brinkley.
It must not be supposed for a moment that the Progressists were conservative. There was no such thing as real conservatism in Japan at that time. The whole nation exhaled the breath of progress. Okuma’s secession was followed quickly by an edict promising the convention of a national assembly in ten years. Confronted by this engagement, the political parties might have been expected to lay down their arms. But a great majority of them aimed at ousting the clan-statesmen rather than at setting up a national assembly. Thus, having obtained a promise of a parliament, they applied themselves to exciting anti-official sentiments in the future electorates; and as the Government made no attempt to controvert the prejudices thus excited, it was evident that when the promised parliament came into existence, it would become an arena for vehement attacks upon the Cabinet.
Of course, as might have been expected, the ten years of agitated waiting, between 1881 and 1891, were often disfigured by recourse to violence. Plots to assassinate ministers; attempts to employ dynamite; schemes to bring about an insurrection in Korea—such things were not infrequent. There were also repeated dispersions of political meetings by order of police inspectors, as well as suspensions or suppressions of newspapers by the fiat of the Home minister. Ultimately it became necessary to enact a law empowering the police to banish persons of doubtful character from Tokyo without legal trial, and even to arrest and detain such persons on suspicion. In 1887, the Progressist leader, Okuma, rejoined the Cabinet for a time as minister of Foreign Affairs, but after a few months of office his leg was shattered by a bomb and he retired into private life and founded the Waseda University in Tokyo.
It may indeed be asserted that during the decade immediately prior to the opening of the national assembly, “an anti-Government propaganda was incessantly preached from the platform and in the press.” The Tokyo statesmen, however, were not at all discouraged. They proceeded with their reforms unflinchingly. In 1885, the ministry was recast, Ito Hirobumi—the same Prince Ito who afterwards fell in Manchuria under the pistol of an assassin—being appointed premier and the departments of State being reorganized on European lines. Then a nobility was created, with five orders, prince, marquis, count, viscount, and baron. The civil and penal laws were codified. The finances were placed on a sound footing. A national bank with a network of subordinate institutions was established. Railway construction was pushed on steadily. Postal and telegraph services were extended. The foundations of a strong mercantile marine were laid. A system of postal savings-banks was instituted. Extensive schemes of harbour improvement, roads, and riparian works were planned and put into operation. The portals of the civil service were made accessible solely by competitive examination. A legion of students was sent westward to complete their education, and the country’s foreign affairs were managed with comparative skill.
PROMULGATION OF THE CONSTITUTION
On the 11th of February, 1889, the Constitution was promulgated amid signs of universal rejoicing. The day was signalized, however, by a terrible deed. Viscount Mori, one of Japan’s most enlightened statesmen, was stabbed to death by Nishino Buntaro, a mere stripling, the motive being to avenge what the murderer regarded as a sacrilegious act, namely, that the viscount, when visiting the shrine at Ise in the previous year, had partially raised one of the curtains with his cane. The explanation given of this extraordinary act by a modern historian is that “Japan was suffering at the time from an attack of hysterical loyalty, and the shrine at Ise being dedicated to the progenitrix of the country’s sovereigns, it seemed to Nishino Buntaro that when high officials began to touch the sacred paraphernalia with walking-sticks, the foundations of Imperialism were menaced.” An interesting light is thrown upon the Japanese character in the sequel of this crime. During many subsequent years the tomb of Nishino received the homage of men and women who “worshipped achievement without regard to the nature of the thing achieved.” There was a similar furore of enthusiasm over the would-be assassin of Okuma.
PROVISIONS OF THE CONSTITUTION
The framers of the Constitution, chief among whom was Prince Ito, naturally took care not to make its provisions too liberal. The minimum age for electors and elected was fixed at twenty-five and the property qualification at payment of direct taxes aggregating not less than fifteen yen (30s. $7.20) annually.
A bicameral system was adopted. The House of Peers was in part hereditary, in part elective (one representative of the highest tax-payers in each prefecture), and in part nominated by the sovereign (from among men of signal attainments), while the House of Representatives consisted of three hundred elected members. In the eyes of party politicians this property qualification was much too high; it restricted the number of franchise-holders to 460,000 in a nation of nearly fifty millions. A struggle for the extension of the franchise commenced immediately, and, after nearly ten years, the Government framed a bill lowering the qualification to ten yen for electors; dispensing with it altogether in the case of candidates; inaugurating secret ballots; extending the limits of the electorates so as to include the whole of a prefecture, and increasing the members of the lower house to 363. By this change of qualification the number of franchise holders was nearly doubled.
ENGRAVING: THE LATE PRINCE ITO
As for the provisions of the Constitution, they differed in no respect from those of the most advanced Western standard. One exception to this statement must be noted, however. The wording of the document lent itself to the interpretation that a ministry’s tenure of office depended solely on the sovereign’s will. In other words, a Cabinet received its mandate from the Throne, not from the Diet. This reservation immediately became an object of attack by party politicians. They did not venture to protest against the arrangement as an Imperial prerogative. The people would not have endured such a protest. The only course open for the party politicians was to prove practically that a ministry not responsible to the legislature is virtually impotent for legislation.
Success has not attended this essay. The Throne continues, nominally at all events, to appoint and dismiss ministers. As for the proceedings of the diet, the most salient feature was that, from the very outset, the party politicians in the lower chamber engaged in successive attacks upon the holders of power. This had been fully anticipated; for during the whole period of probation antecedent to the meeting of the first Diet, the party politicians had been suffered to discredit the Cabinet by all possible means, whereas the Cabinet had made no effort to win for themselves partisans in the electorates. They relied wholly upon the sovereign’s prerogative, and stood aloof from alliances of any kind, apparently indifferent to everything but their duty to their country. Fortunately, the House of Peers ranged itself steadfastly on the side of the Cabinet throughout this struggle, and thus the situation was often saved from apparently pressing danger. The war with China (1894-1895) greatly enhanced the Diet’s reputation; for all the political parties, laying aside their differences, without a dissenting voice voted funds for the prosecution of the campaign.
POLITICAL PARTIES
During several years the House of Representatives continued to be divided into two great parties with nearly equally balanced power—the Liberals and the Progressists, together with a few minor coteries. But, in 1898, the Liberals and Progressists joined hands, thus coming to wield a large majority in the lower house. Forthwith, the Emperor, on the advice of Prince Ito, invited Counts Okuma and Itagaki to form a Cabinet. An opportunity was thus given to the parties to prove the practical possibility of the system they had so long lauded in theory. The united parties called themselves Constitutionists (Kensei-to). Their union lasted barely six months, and then “the new links snapped under the tension of the old enmities.”
A strange thing now happened. The Liberals invited Prince Ito to be their leader, and he agreed on condition that his followers should obey him implicitly. A new and powerful party was thus formed under the designation of Friends of the Constitution (Rikken Seiyukai). Thus, the Liberals not only enlisted under the statesmen whose overthrow they had for nearly twenty years sought to effect, but also they practically expunged from their platform an essential article of faith—parliamentary cabinets. Another proof was here furnished that political combinations in Japan were based rather on persons than on principles.
As for the new party, even Prince Ito’s wonderful talents and unequalled prestige failed to hold successfully the reins of the heterogeneous team which he had now undertaken to drive. The House of Peers opposed him on account of his association with political parties, and he at once resigned the premiership. The party he had formed did not, however, dissolve. Prince Ito, indeed, stepped out of its ranks, but he was succeeded by his intimate friend, Marquis Saionji, one of Japan’s blue-blooded aristocrats, and to him the Constitutionists have yielded implicit obedience ever since. For the rest, it is impossible to foresee what the outcome of the parliamentary system will be in Japan. Up to the present the principal lesson learned by politicians seems to have been the value of patience. The Constitutionists have shown that they are quite ready to support a Cabinet entirely independent of parties, where its measures seem conducive to the nation’s good. Such a Cabinet was that of Prince Katsura, who, in turn, after three years’ tenure of office, stepped down quietly in August, 1911, to make way for the Constitutionists, under Marquis Saionji. In a word, the nation seems to have arrived at the conclusion that these parliamentary problems cannot be safely solved except by long and deliberate experiment.*
*For minute information about party politics and parliamentary procedure see the “Oriental Series,” Vol. IV.
AGRICULTURE AND INDUSTRY
The growth of agricultural and industrial enterprise is one of the most remarkable features of modern Japan. Up to the beginning of the Meiji era, agriculture almost monopolized attention, manufacturing industry being altogether of a domestic character. Speaking broadly, the gross area of land in Japan, exclusive of Saghalien, Korea, and Formosa is seventy-five million acres, and of this only some seventeen millions are arable. It may well be supposed that as rice is the principal staple of foodstuff, and as the area over which it can be produced is so limited, the farmers have learned to apply very intensive methods of cultivation. Thus it is estimated that they spend annually twelve millions sterling—$60,000,000—on fertilizers. By unflinching industry and skilled processes, the total yield of rice has been raised to an annual average of about fifty million koku; that is to say, two hundred and fifty million bushels. But the day cannot be far distant when the growth of the population will outstrip that of this essential staple, and unless the assistance of Korea and Formosa can be successfully enlisted, a problem of extreme difficulty may present itself. Meanwhile, manufacturing industry has increased by leaps and bounds. Thus, whereas at the opening of the Meiji era, every manufacture was of a domestic character, and such a thing as a joint-stock company did not exist, there are now fully 11,000 factories giving employment to 700,000 operatives, and the number of joint-stock companies aggregates 9000. Evidently, Japan threatens to become a keen competitor of Europe and America in all the markets of the Orient, for she possesses the advantage of propinquity, and as well an abundance of easily trained labour. But there are two important conditions that offset these advantages. In the first place Japanese wages have increased so rapidly that in the last fifteen years they have nearly doubled, and, secondly, it must be remembered that Japanese labour is not so efficient as that of Europe and America.
ENGRAVING: SEAL OF MUTSUHITO, THE LATE EMPEROR
RAILWAYS
The work of railway construction, which may be said to have commenced with the Meiji era, has not advanced as rapidly as some other undertakings. The country has now only 5770 miles of lines open to traffic and 1079 miles under construction. All these railways may be said to have been built with domestic capital. Nearly the whole was nationalized in 1907, so that the State has paid out altogether sixty-six million pounds sterling—$325,000,000—on account of railways, an investment which yields a net return of about three and a half millions sterling—$17,000,000—annually.
THE MERCANTILE MARINE
Another direction in which Japanese progress has been very marked is in the development of a mercantile marine. At an early period of the country’s modern history, her statesmen recognized that transports are as necessary to the safety of a State as are soldiers, and, in fact, that the latter cannot be utilized without the former. The Government, therefore, encouraged with liberal subsidies and grants-in-aid the purchase or construction of ships, the result being that whereas, in 1871, Japan’s mercantile marine comprised only forty-six ships with a total tonnage of 17,948, the corresponding figures in 1910 were 6436 and 1,564,443 respectively. In the war with China in 1894-1895, as well as in that with Russia in 1904-1905, Japan was able to carry large armies to the Asiatic continent in her own vessels, thus demonstrating the wisdom of the policy pursued by the Government, although it had been habitually denounced by the enemies of subsidies in any circumstances. Shipbuilding yards had also been called into existence, and there are now four of them where vessels aggregating 87,495 tons have been built.
THE ARMY
It has been seen that the Satsuma rebellion of 1877 severely taxed the military resources of the empire. In fact, the organization of special brigades to supplement the conscripts was found necessary. Therefore, two years later, the conscription law was revised, the total term of service being increased from seven years to ten, with the result that the number of trained soldiers who could be called out in case of war became larger by fully one-half. Further, in 1882, another expansion of armaments was effected in obedience to an Imperial decree, so that when war with China broke out in 1894, Japan possessed an available force of seven divisions (including the guards), and these, raised to a war-footing, represented about 150,000 men. She had already learned that, however civilized the Occident might claim to be, all the great States of the West depended mainly on military and naval force, and that only by a demonstration of that force could international respect be won.
Of course, this creed was not publicly proclaimed. Firmly as Japanese statesmen believed it, they could not confess their conviction openly in the Diet, and therefore much difficulty was experienced in inducing the two houses to endorse the Government’s scheme of increased armaments. Indeed, the subject came to be a frequent topic of discussion between the Cabinet and the House of Representatives, and in the end Japan was obliged to go into war against China without a single line-of-battle ship, though her adversary possessed two. Nevertheless, the Island Empire emerged signally victorious.
It might have been supposed that she would then rest content with the assurance of safety her prowess had won. But, in the immediate sequel of the war, three of the great European powers, Russia, Germany, and France, joined hands to deprive Japan of the fruits of her victory by calling upon her to vacate the southern littoral of Manchuria from the mouth of the Yalu to the Liaotung peninsula. Japan thus acquired the conviction that her successes against China were not estimated by Western States as any great evidence of belligerent power, and that it would be necessary for her to fight again if she hoped to win any considerable measure of international respect. Prince Ito, then prime minister, keenly appreciated this necessity. He invited the Diet to vote for a substantial increment of land and sea forces, and after much opposition in the House of Representatives, funds were obtained for raising the army to thirteen divisions and for an increase of the navy which will be by and by spoken of.
The wisdom of these measures found full justification, in 1904, when swords had to be crossed with Russia. After that war, which raised Japan to a leading place among the nations, the old problem came up again for solution. Once more the Elder Statesmen—as the Meiji leaders were called—asked the Diet to maintain the organization of the army at the point to which it had been carried during the war, and once more the lower house of the Diet proved very difficult to persuade. Ultimately, however, the law of military service was revised so that the fixed establishment became nineteen divisions, together with various special corps. It is not possible to speak with absolute accuracy of the force that Japan is now capable of mobilizing, but when the new system is in full working order, she will be able to put something like a million and a half of men into the fighting line. Her military budget amounts to only seven millions sterling—$35,000,000—a wonderfully small sum considering the results obtained.
THE NAVY
It has been shown how, in the year 1636, the Bakufu Government strictly interdicted the building of all vessels of ocean-going capacity. The veto naturally precluded enterprise in the direction of naval expansion, and when Commodore Perry, at the head of a powerful squadron, arrived in Uraga Bay, two centuries afterwards, the Japanese were suddenly and vividly instructed in the enormous power of a nation wielding such weapons of war. This object lesson having been most practically inculcated by the bombardments of Kagoshima and Shimonoseki, Japan saw that she must not lose one moment in equipping herself with a naval force. At first, she had to purchase all her ships from foreign countries, and so difficult was it to obtain parliamentary support for these acquisitions that, as already stated, when war with the neighbouring empire broke out in 1894, she did not possess a single ironclad, her strongest vessels being four second-class cruisers, which, according to modern ideas, would not be worthy of a place in the fighting line.
During the next ten years the teachings of experience took deeper root, and when the great combat with Russia commenced, the Japanese navy included four ironclads and six armoured cruisers. The signal victories obtained by her in that war did not induce any sentiment of self-complacency. She has gone on ever since increasing her navy, and the present programme of her statesmen is that by the end of 1921, she will possess twenty-five units of the first fighting line; that figure being based on the principle that she should be competent to encounter the greatest force which any foreign State, England excluded, will be able to mass in Far Eastern waters ten years hence. Her annual expenditure on account of the up-keep of her navy is at present three and one-quarter million pounds sterling $17,000,000. No feature is more remarkable than the fact that Japan can now build and equip in her own yards and arsenals warships of the largest size. She is no longer dependent on foreign countries for these essentials of safety.
ENGRAVING: NIJU-BASHI (DOUBLE BRIDGE) (Entrance to the present Imperial Palace, at Tokyo)