Chapter XXII: Baron Eichi Shibusawa 315 (7)

“In thanking you for the high honour done me, and for the
eulogy of my country, I regret that I do not feel entitled
to the praise that has been showered upon me. The progress of
Japan in the past is entirely due to the powerful guidance
of her sovereign and the loyal patriotism of her people. All
that I have done for my country does not exceed the limits
of having served as one of the links in the harmonious
co-operation of advancing civilisation. I am unworthy of the
high opinion which his lordship has been good enough to express
of me. I think it may not be out of place to give expression
to my profound satisfaction at the cordial relations which
have existed for nearly a century between England and Japan.
It was the English people who were the first to come to our
shores as the harbingers of civilisation. Who could compute
now the number of Japanese who speak the English language or
the closeness of the relations which now exist? I was one of
the first Japanese to come to this country thirty-eight years
ago—a country equally hospitable then as now. Since then
how many of our countrymen have been studying in England in
commerce, education, industries, the navy, and in the venerable
institutions of education and learning? And how many of your
institutions—social and political—have served as models in our
task of assimilating Western civilisation? I need not remind
you that we have never failed in our profound admiration of
England and English ideas, and its excellent self-governing
institutions. And how many of your countrymen have lent us a
helping hand in the education and regeneration of our land, as
tutors, professors, and as employees in the different branches
of our public life, and, above all, in commerce, as constantly
intermingling with the ever-increasing network of peaceful
relations between the two countries? I believe that the focus
of international competition is moving steadily towards the
Pacific Ocean, and pledged as we are, not only by our historic
relations with the west, but also the east, we are destined
to play an ever-increasing part in the development of that
portion of the globe. It is only natural for me to believe and
sincerely hope that the continuance of those friendly feelings
and sympathies which have existed in the past shall be daily
more strongly cemented. With these hopes and convictions I
trust I may be excused if I construe this hospitality as one of
the many tokens of the continuation of our past friendship.”

At the dinner given the evening prior to his departure for Paris, on his way home, the Marquis was the recipient from Lord Lansdowne on behalf of the King, of the order of Honorary Knight Grand Cross of the Bath.

On his way to London the Marquis had passed through Russia, where he was received in special audience by the Tsar, and Count Lamsdorff gave a Ministerial Banquet in his honour. From St Petersburg he travelled to Germany, Italy, and Belgium, receiving at Potsdam a decoration from the Kaiser, at a banquet specially arranged, the tour through Europe being one of unalloyed satisfaction to the veteran statesman, and of exceptional value to his country, in that he obtained information at first hand regarding the status of political parties, and added to his store of knowledge on subjects connected with the science of constitutional government, which is one of the many matters on which he is privileged to be the trusted adviser of his sovereign, in virtue of his position as President of the Council.

In this necessarily imperfect sketch of the strenuous life of Marquis Ito I have touched mainly on his public career, leaving to the last any reference to the simplicity and usefulness of his private life in town and country, the one permeated with the anxieties and perplexities of a statesman’s daily round of duty, the other a restful freedom from political worry always to be secured in his seaside villa at Oiso. In a measure the Marquis may be said to have made Oiso, for it was not until he had a house built there, within sound of the waves of the Pacific, that the wayside village and posting station of ancient times became known as a health resort and acquired a certain notoriety as a convenient seaside bathing-place. Oiso will never be a Brighton or an Eastbourne, perhaps, but it has a pretty collection of villa residences close to the shore, and it has for a background the peerless Fujiyama, while the Pacific billows rattle the shingle on its extensive beach. Here it is that the veteran statesman is visited by his life-long friends, those “elder statesmen” of the new regime who recognise in him their experienced chief and are by the nation regarded, in the main, as its safest guides and counsellors in all that appertains to the welfare of the country.

It is here that he seeks repose when jaded with the cares of office, for although he no longer heads a Ministry, and is therefore exempt, it might be imagined, from the storm and stress of party politics, his advice is as much sought and valued as it ever was, and his presence in the capital is often indispensable to the adjustment of matters of the highest national importance. According to Western ideas the Marquis is not a wealthy man,—as Premier his salary was less than a thousand pounds a year,—but on the other hand his tastes are not expensive, and like the vast majority of his countrymen he lives a frugal, almost abstemious, life in which neither the pleasures of the table nor the dissipations of society have any share. He is essentially a man of active habits, and betrays in no marked degree the weight of years or the strain of his long-continued and invaluable services to his nation. He feels a justifiable pride in the achievements of the Japanese army and navy, for he was among the first to perceive that if Japan would take her stand among the powers of the world she must provide herself with, first of all, the means to add weight to her arguments in the council. In some respects the most critical period of Japan’s development was from 1892 to 1896, which covered the war of 1894-5 with China, and throughout this term the hand of the Marquis was on the helm, steering the ship of State through the exceedingly troubled waters produced firstly by the war itself and secondly by the oppressive action of three European powers which deprived the victor in the struggle of the fruits, in no small degree, of the victories achieved. Japan had then to stomach an affront which she could never forgive, and Ito has lived to see the day when by the might of her sons Japan has been avenged. Not completely, perhaps, in the opinion of some, but sufficiently so to justify the adoption of the policy which he advocated, for,—come what may,—his country has obtained a place in the front rank of naval and military powers of which the future, be it favourable or unfavourable, can by no means wholly deprive her. His patient courage and determination in the hour of trial have extorted admiration on all sides. His sober judgment and wise discretion in the conduct of affairs of State have won for him the entire confidence and regard of his countrymen wherever they are to be found. His adaptability has ever been one of his distinguishing characteristics. In his choice of a model he has confined himself to no one country or system but has framed his progressive measures, whether of naval or military organisation, of public works, or of administrative improvement, with an absolute freedom from bias that has enabled him to secure for his nation in all cases that which is most suited to its needs, and which in actual practice has proved the most beneficial throughout.

In his grand conception of a reformed and reinvigorated Japan under a written constitution and codified laws based upon the best that could be gleaned of Occidental modes of procedure, the Marquis Ito was instrumental in conferring upon his country a series of benefits such as by no ordinary combination of fortuitous circumstances could it have obtained in the lifetime of an individual, however exalted. His early visit to the Occident afforded him an insight into methods of government which had borne the test of time, and by his accurate judgment and skilful interpretation of the demands of a people who were yearning for enlightenment and freedom he gauged to perfection the possibilities of a wholesale adaptation of Western arts and sciences to the requirements of his own land. Among the lessons learned in the course of an extended tour through Europe and America by the Iwakura Embassy in 1872 had been the imperative need of adopting measures of defence against the even then palpably inimical designs of Russia in regard to Japan’s position. If the travellers had been deeply impressed with the power and wealth of the Occidental nations they were not less convinced by what they saw of the need of an efficient system of national protection by sea and land. In his representations to his sovereign the future Premier dwelt then, there is reason to believe, on the advantages of a policy of preparation for eventualities such as in recent times has borne good fruit in a hundred ways. It is to the Marquis Ito Hirobumi more than to any other individual statesman that the honour belongs of having brought his country, subject to the guidance of a wise and revered monarch, through a period of unexampled peril in respect of its domestic condition, and of frequent crises in its foreign relations. Troubles have lately arisen owing to the action of one of the Great Powers, and for which Japan is in no sense to be held responsible, by which the efficiency of her naval and military organisations was for a year and a half subjected to the most severe tests, but the final results were of a character to still further elevate the status of the country among the nations of the earth and to confirm its claim to consideration as the most potent, enlightened, and progressive of any in the Orient.

Korea, by the terms of the Peace Settlement of 1905, has come under the protection of Japan, and Marquis Ito has assumed the duties of Resident-General; the speedy development of the peninsula under Japanese auspices may therefore be looked for. Already there is a large Japanese population, and both Korean and Japanese children attend the Japanese schools at Seoul, where special attention is given to physical drill. The photograph shows the girls exercising with the _naginata_, a weapon which the daughters of samurai were taught in the olden time to wield most effectively.

VII

PRINCE IWAKURA TOMOMI

There may be some who yet remember Tenniel’s cartoon in _Punch_ of 1872 depicting a Japanese nobleman attired in orthodox _haori_ and _hakama_ and wearing two swords in his girdle, watching a faction fight in Ireland, and remarking to the Archbishop of Canterbury,—“These, your grace, I suppose, are Heathens?” To which the answer was: “On the contrary, your Excellency, they are among our most enthusiastic Religionists!” The figure in the ancient costume of Japan was intended to represent Prince Iwakura, the head of an Embassy which included Ito, Kido, Okubo, and others whose names are familiar enough to the people of the Occident to-day but were then as strange to their ears as can well be imagined. The visitors had come to England from the Far East by way of America, and were here to learn all that it was likely would be useful to the people of their own land to know. When he quitted Japan on the mission to Europe and America Prince Iwakura was U-dai-jin, or Vice-Chancellor of the Right, and had always occupied a high position at the Court of Kioto, being a _Kuge_—_i.e._ a member of the old nobility—by birth. He had, like Prince Sanjo, been a prominent leader, intellectually, in the great transitional period of 1867-71, and was thoroughly imbued with the tenets of the kai-koku section of the Japanese body-politic, though he can scarcely be said to have been a whole-souled advocate of unrestricted intercourse with foreign nations,—not at any rate until after his visit to the capitals of the West in 1872.

The prince began his life at the palace as one of the _Jiju_, or junior chamberlains in the imperial service at Kioto. This was in the year 1848, when he was about sixteen years of age. In the month of February 1858, at the time when the American Minister Townsend Harris was pressing the Government of Yedo for the completion of a new treaty with the United States, it happened that Hotto, the feudal lord of Bichiu, was sent to Kioto by the Shogun to explain the critical state of affairs, and with the request that the Emperor Komei, who was then on the throne, would give his sanction to the conclusion of the treaty referred to. But several of the _Kuge_ protested, Iwakura being one of them, and presented a memorial to the Emperor, urging him not to consent to the Shogun’s proposition. As far as Iwakura was concerned, it was not through any disposition towards factious opposition to the Bakufu that he protested, as was to be well comprehended from the fact that when the Bakufu was being urged by the Court party to expel foreigners from Japan altogether, and the Tokugawa officials realising the impossibility of carrying out the imperial commands, and that it was mainly due to the circumstance that the _kuge_ had the ear of the ruler at Kioto, yet pretended to acquiesce, and suggested that the _Kuge_ should unite with the samurai in the effort to turn out the Westerners, the intention being that the _kuge_ should thus come to see the folly of attempting to shut up the treaty ports, Iwakura at once said publicly that the Bakufu’s suggestion was just and right. The idea of his taking this view of the matter was, however, so displeasing to the Emperor Komei that Iwakura was ordered to shave his head and go into retirement until further orders. Thus it was by his impartial attitude that he made enemies among those who were opponents of the Shogun, and they dubbed him _Sabakuka_, or helper of the Bakufu, ostracising him so completely that no one went near him. As a matter of fact he was no friend to the Bakufu, but he was a fair-minded man, not afraid to give utterance to his convictions, and did not approve of the principle of wantonly opposing every step that the Shogun might find it advisable to take.

While Iwakura was dwelling in this enforced seclusion means were found of opening up communication between him and Saigo Takamori, Okubo, Kido, Goto Shojiro, and others of the imperialist party, and so when the change of government was brought about in 1868 he was at once released from his retirement and appointed at first a Sanyo, then a Gijo, and finally, when the new administration was completely arranged for, in the autumn of that year, he became a Fuku-Sosai or Vice-Chancellor of the Government, a title that subsequently was merged in that of U-dai-jin.

Long prior to his journey to Western lands he had come in contact with Western people to no inconsiderable extent, as a brief allusion to the part he took in the reception of the Duke of Edinburgh in 1869 will suffice to show. But first it should be explained that as a Court noble he had in the preceding year accompanied his present Majesty from Kioto to Yedo, thenceforward to be known as Tokio. The youthful sovereign travelled by the famous To-kai-do, or road of the Eastern Sea, and as it was the first and last occasion on which the sovereign journeyed under conditions that have long since ceased to exist, it may be worth while to recall some of the features of the imperial procession and the methods of travel which down to that date were adopted in Japan. Matters have in this respect been completely changed, for the railways have revolutionised everything. The _honjins_ at which the daimios stayed for the night when journeying by easy stages from their provinces to the Shogun’s capital at stated periods and back to their domains have mostly disappeared,—the post stations, where their servitors hired baggage ponies and their palanquin bearers were changed, every few miles, still exist on most roads, but the palanquins have been replaced by the “man-power-car” (jin-riki-sha), a vehicle then uninvented. The stately manners and elaborate courtesy of the old regime have been replaced by a certain brusqueness that sometimes offends. The journey from Kioto to Yedo formerly occupied four weeks. The average rate of progress was thus about twelve miles per day, but it was not uniform, and much depended on the character of the road, and of the weather. The Emperor rode in a specially constructed “norimono” (_lit._: thing for riding in) and was hidden from the gaze of the vulgar by silk-gauze curtains. The bearers of the imperial vehicle had been trained to perfection in the art of carrying it steadily,—to the degree, indeed, that they could run fast with it when a bowl brimful of water had been placed inside and not spill a drop, if we may credit the assertions of those who formerly made their journeys in this fashion,—and were carefully matched for height to prevent any oscillation. In the month of November, when the Emperor removed to his new capital, the days were warm and sunny, and the nights cool, so that the time chosen was the pleasantest for travelling of all the year, and as the _honjin_ keepers had been warned of his Majesty’s approach by advance couriers all had been made ready for his fitting reception. By his express command no levy of any sort was made but, down to the smallest article needed for use on the road, everything was paid for. As the procession neared Kanagawa some of the Yokohama residents were present at the roadside to witness its passage through the little town, and it is supposed that his Majesty, then not quite seventeen years of age, obtained his first view of the strangers in his realms through the gauze-curtained windows of his norimono. The advance was slow and dignified. There were 1000 soldiers marching in scattered parties of from forty to two hundred, with a few flags, and several bands of music playing a weird air that no one recognised. Beyond this there was not a sound. The people bowed profoundly, but in perfect silence, as the ruler of Japan passed by. Following the Emperor came Prince Iwakura, in a norimono, and some twenty other nobles of the Court, as also three or four territorial lords, each with his own retinue. Slowly the procession wended its way along the “Eastern Sea Road” at a foot pace, until the castle of Yedo which had for two and a half centuries sheltered the deputy ruler, but thenceforward to be the headquarters of the real sovereign, came in sight, from the suburb of Shinagawa. Soon the imperial norimono had been borne across the inner moat and the Emperor had reached his palace, not again to appear in public for a long time, and then not in a norimono but in a wheeled vehicle of European pattern drawn by well-groomed horses.

Next year there came to Japan Prince Alfred of England, and with his reception as the first foreign prince to visit Japan under the new order of things created by the Restoration Prince Iwakura had all to do. At the time he gracefully said that the Government had given to the reception of the English prince the most anxious consideration, inasmuch as it was of all things wished that the utmost friendship should be shown towards Foreign Powers, and the Government was ready to promote the formation of intimate relations even though in doing so they might have to sacrifice to some degree the ancient usages and ideas, so much so that the Emperor would be compelled to observe an altogether new etiquette in receiving Prince Alfred in a way that would be acceptable to Great Britain, but that it afforded intense gratification to reflect that this compliment would in the first instance be paid to an English prince, and would form some slight acknowledgment of the abundant proofs which Japan had received of the thorough good will of England and of the Government of Queen Victoria.

It is ancient history now, but the _Galatea_ dropped anchor at Yokohama on Sunday, the 25th of August 1869. The royal standard, however, was not hoisted by her until the 31st, and then all the warships in harbour and the fort of Kanagawa broke into a tremendous salute, which later the _Galatea_ returned with the flag of Japan at the main. On the 1st of September the Duke took up his residence in the palace of Hama-go-ten, in Tokio, which had been made ready for him, and on the 4th he went to the palace within the castle to meet the Ten-shi, who welcomed his guest in the Audience Chamber, and then invited him to a less formal meeting in the adjoining garden of Fuki-age. Refreshments were served in the maple pavilion, and the Emperor awaited the Duke’s coming in the tiny pavilion by the waterfall. As Prince Alfred entered the Ten-shi rose and bowed courteously, and begged his guest to be seated. The suites remained standing, while the Emperor said “It affords me great pleasure to receive a prince who has come so far, and I hope you will remain long enough to repay you for the fatigues of the journey.” The best wishes were expressed on both sides for cordial relations between England and Japan and the memorable interview was brought to a conclusion.

Interest will always attach to this first meeting of the Japanese Emperor with a member of another ruling house, for it signalised a vast alteration in the views of the Japanese aristocracy as well as the beginning of cordial relations between the two powers which have with the lapse of time grown closer and closer, and promise to be eternal. It is due to the memory of Prince Iwakura to show, as it has here been sought to do, that he most clearly appreciated the benefits which were certain to accrue from the maintenance of a mutual understanding between his country and ours, and did all that it was feasible in that epoch to do to cement the ties which were thus early growing up between nations destined to be one day absolutely allied.

In 1870 Prince Iwakura was despatched on an important mission to the lord of Satsuma province, being the bearer of a request from the Emperor that the daimio Shimadzu Saburo, then dwelling at Kagoshima, should come to Tokio and give his assistance in affairs of State, by taking his seat at the Grand Council. The Emperor wrote a special letter to Shimadzu,—who was virtually all powerful in Satsuma, though nominally the uncle and truly the father of the daimio of the clan,—to the effect that the Dainagon Tomiyoshi (Iwakura) was charged to convey the expression of his Majesty’s esteem and calling upon him (Shimadzu) to join in the great work of reforming the national institutions. To Iwakura the Imperial Commission was given in these terms:—

TO IWAKURA DAINAGON:

His Majesty desires to present a sword to the shrine of
_Shokoku Daimojin_ at Kagoshima in Satsuma, and to take an oath
to the god to exalt the destinies of the State.

You will therefore proceed thither and worship in obedience to
this desire of his Majesty.

SANJO SANETOMI:
TOKUDAIJI SANENORI:

The Satsuma lord found an excuse for non-compliance at the time with the sovereign’s command, though he ultimately went up to Tokio with a retinue of armed samurai, at a date when the wearing of two swords in the girdle had become an anachronism, and then made but a brief sojourn there.

The next mission undertaken by Prince Iwakura was that alluded to at the outset,—the visit to America and Europe.

With him, as Vice-ambassadors, were four of the heads of departments of State, and a number of Secretaries and clerks belonging to the several departments represented. The dominant idea seems to have been that the chiefs should form a council of five among themselves, and be able to adequately represent the views of their sovereign. The prince had some months prior to the leadership of this mission being conferred upon him been made Minister for Foreign Affairs, and what was a most exceptional thing at that time, indeed an altogether unprecedented honour, the Emperor paid him a visit at his own residence in Tokio, and thus addressed him:

“I have purposely called on you to thank you for your zeal in
my service. Ever since the Reform you have exerted yourself
day and night to secure the happiness and tranquillity of the
empire, and the present state of prosperity has principally
depended on you.”

When Prince Iwakura was chosen to lead a mission to the Western Powers it is to be inferred from this commendatory utterance of the sovereign how great was the importance that was attached to its successful fulfilment, and there can be no doubt that much was anticipated from it in the shape of compliance by the Governments to which it was accredited with a desire that the Japanese Government had very much at heart, and that was the revision of the treaties entered into twelve to fifteen years before with foreign powers,—a revision which it took many years to bring about but was at last amicably effected in 1894.

The Embassy left Yokohama by a Pacific Mail Company’s steamer in December 1871, and it was absent altogether a year and nine months. Everywhere it was well received, but the results were not quite satisfactory, for when it returned the vexed question of extra territoriality was no nearer a settlement in accordance with Japan’s views than when it set out.

On his return Iwakura found a strong party in the Government in favour of inflicting punishment on Korea for wrongs and insults that it was declared the nation had sustained at the hands of the people of the neighbouring peninsula. As Korea was tributary to China, this meant going to war with the Chinese, and Iwakura was profoundly opposed to an adventure of this character in the then state of the Empire’s naval and military forces. A split in the Government followed, and the members of the war party, which included Goto Shojiro, Itagaki Taisuke, Saigo Takamori, Soyeshima, and Yeto Shimpei, all resigned, their places in the administration being taken by Ito Hirobumi, Katsu Awa-no-kami, Okubo, and Terashima.

The ill feeling in the country engendered by this conflict of opinion led to a determined attempt on Prince Iwakura’s life by men belonging to the Tosa clan, who were caught and executed for their abominable crime. The prince was returning from the imperial palace at eight o’clock in the evening of the 15th of January 1874, in a small open carriage, the hood of which, fortunately, as the night was cold, had been drawn up. Nevertheless, though the hood was a partial protection, he received several wounds from the swords and spears with which the intending assassins had armed themselves. The attack took place on the causeway at Ku-ichi-gai, close to the castle moat, and the driver of the carriage and the _betto_ or groom, were likewise both badly wounded. In endeavouring to escape from his assailants the prince fell headlong into the moat, which happily was not deep at that point, and the assassins, as they deemed themselves to be, took to flight, on the guard at the palace gate approaching with a lantern. Their victim had strength left to shout, and was hauled out of the moat, more dead than alive from his injuries and immersion in the ice-cold water on that winter night. He was a long time confined to his bed, but he eventually recovered to be able to resume his part in the official life of the capital.

He died in 1881 deeply mourned by the whole of the Japanese people, who recognised in him perhaps more than in any other statesman of his generation the guide and counsellor of the monarch at critical periods of the nation’s history, and he undoubtedly was honoured by his sovereign with a close personal friendship such as rarely falls to the lot of a subject under any conditions, in Japan or elsewhere.

VIII

PRINCE SANJO SANETOMI

On the 6th of November 1868, when the British Minister, the late Sir Harry Parkes, was reviewing the British garrison at Yokohama, a Japanese equestrian, wearing the native robes of white silk which befitted his rank as a _kuge_ or Court noble,—his horse led by two grooms or “bettos,” and attended by forty soldiers in blue serge uniforms, with black cloth caps,—a man of slight physique, and particularly juvenile in appearance,—sat placidly in his saddle watching with an interested air the movements of the foreign troops as they executed a series of evolutions and marched past the representative of Queen Victoria. The visitor, who had come from Tokio to attend the review, was Prince Sanjo, the first Prime Minister of Japan, and leader of the newly formed Government of the Restored Imperial Rule. A few minutes later Sir Harry, with a well-turned compliment on the skill of Japanese swordsmen, and a graceful acknowledgment of his indebtedness personally to the valour of one of their number, handed to the Japanese statesman the sword sent by the British Queen for presentation to Mr Nakai Kozo, in memory of the day when Nakai and Goto Shojiro, as is elsewhere related at length, saved the life of the British Minister when he was attacked by outlaws in the streets of Kioto in March of the same year. Prince Sanjo passed on the gift to Mr Nakai with his own congratulations to the recipient on the performance of a brilliant feat of arms, and thus closed an incident that served to remind those present of an exceptionally stormy period in the history of the nation, and which happily was then giving place to comparatively settled conditions. Prince Sanjo had come from Kioto to Yedo, thenceforward to be the capital of the Empire under the title of Tokio, in the month of June, in attendance on the Emperor, who then removed to the former headquarters of the Shogunate and gave to the place its new name. Sanjo was at that time _Fuku-Sosai_, ranking next to the Emperor’s uncle, Prince Arisugawa Taruhito, who occupied in the first administration formed under the Restored Imperial regime the position of _Sosai_—_i.e._ Supreme Director of the Government. The decisions of the So-sai were unchallengeable, and it was an office which only a prince of the blood might hold. Sanjo had always, even during the lifetime of the present Emperor’s father, sided with those who recognised the need of reforms, and when, in the autumn of 1868, the Department of the So-sai was abolished and the Dai-jo-kwan, or Supreme Governing Council, was constituted, thus resuscitating an ancient advisory body that had had a prior existence in the eighth century, he succeeded to the post of president, or _Dai-Jo-Dai-Jin_, thereof, and occupied it from that time forth until the dissolution of the Council on the reconstitution of the Government in the year 1886.

The Ministry of the Restored Rule was soon after its institution reorganised so as to give equal representation to the four leading clans that had been directly concerned in the revival of direct imperial control—viz. Satsuma, Choshiu, Tosa, and Hizen. Up to the year 1886 the Dai-jo-kwan was a separate body, distinct from the Council of Ministers or heads of departments. But in that year the two Councils were fused into one, and became the Cabinet as it exists at the present day. In Japan, it will be remembered, the Cabinet is appointed directly by the sovereign, and is entirely independent of any political party that may be predominant in the Diet. The Ministry at the outset of the Meiji era included those energetic reformers, Ito Shunsuke (afterwards Hirobumi) and Inouye Bunda (afterwards Kaoru) both Choshiu Samurai, and in Prince Sanjo they found an able and ardent supporter of their views. His influence was apparent in the tolerant attitude of the Court party towards the policy of the new government, and as the motto of the administration was then, and still is, “a strong Japan, for defence, and if need be, for aggression,” it is not easy to see in what respect the Imperialistic conservatism of the Kioto nobles was stultified by the doctrine enunciated in the Council Chamber at the capital. The retention of Japan for the Japanese was the object sought by both sides, but while one would have attempted to realise it by the expulsion of the subjects of the Occidental Powers, the other party in the State was willing to believe that Japan’s safety and territorial integrity were best to be preserved by the assimilation of those arts and sciences that had given to the Western peoples their capabilities of waging successful warfare, and of thereby imposing their will upon others. The policy which commended itself to Japan at that epoch was certainly not inspired by a mere love of change, nor by any pronounced preference for foreign ways, nor was it ascribable to a passion for learning, in the abstract, but it was directly prompted by a well-grounded political incentive to action that has never lost its hold on the minds of Government or people, and is indubitably as strong to-day as when its principles were first assented to by the nation at large, close upon forty years ago.

Prince Sanjo belonged to the eighth _Kuge_ family, and was therefore a descendant of the Fujiwara house which has from very early days provided consorts for the Emperors. The mothers and wives of the sovereigns of Japan have all been Fujiwaras by descent, and the rule still holds good that the princesses of the blood shall marry into Fujiwara houses. The retention of Prince Sanjo in the office of Prime Minister on the establishment of the Dai-jo-kwan was a wise step of which the good effects were incalculable, inasmuch as it tended towards the reconcilement of those antagonistic sections of the community which were to be classed respectively as adherents of the old and of the new systems. At the beginning he was himself an opponent of the _kai-koku_ policy which favoured the opening of the country to foreign trade and intercourse, but in the end he vastly aided the accomplishment of those plans to which he had finally accorded his unqualified approbation. As a Fujiwara he could not be other than a devoted servant of the throne,—as a convert to the doctrine of reform he was a pillar of strength to the Government of the Restored Imperial Rule, and a strenuous advocate of the adoption of methods calculated to place his country in the van of Asiatic powers. The Fujiwaras in the ninth century assumed regal control, in their tenure of the office of Kwambaku,—an ancient title borne by the Prime Minister of the State,—and the holder of it in A.D. 888 had wielded absolute sway, arranging all affairs with and on behalf of the then reigning Mikado, who seems to have been content to efface himself and to permit the Minister to exercise sovereign powers. Thus the prestige of the Fujiwara house was a valuable prop to the edifice of State and the influence exerted by the prince as Premier throughout his long occupancy of the exalted office was ever thrown into the scale of solid advancement.

When the Shogun Tokugawa Keiki tendered his resignation in the spring of 1868, he made a strong appeal for the assembling at an early date of the provincial lords in Kioto, in order that they might express individually and collectively their views to the young monarch on the great questions which were then agitating the land. This Council of Dai-Mios met while the war of the Restoration was yet in progress, and the outcome of their deliberations was the revival of the historical Dai-jo-kwan, with a _Dai-jo-dai-jin_, or Chancellor,—to use the term then commonly employed in translation,—a Sa-dai-jin, or Vice-chancellor of the Left, which ranks highest in Japan,—and a Vice-chancellor of the Right, the U-dai-jin. The holders of the Vice-chancellorships under Prince Sanjo were Prince Iwakura and the feudal chief of Satsuma. The administrative departments created—viz. Foreign Affairs, Finance, War, Education, Home Affairs, Justice, Religion, and the Imperial Household—were each presided over by a Minister, and among those who accepted portfolios at that time were many whose names will remain conspicuous for all time in the chronicles of the Empire. Few of them are now alive, but it may with strict justice be said that their labours in laying the foundations of good government for their country were not in vain.

Prince Sanjo was at the head of the government throughout the troublous period when it became necessary, in order to vindicate Japan’s rights, to send an expedition to Formosa, led by Marquis Saigo, and at the far more anxious stage when rebellion arose in Satsuma and it was imperative to prosecute the war against Saigo Takamori and his followers with vigour, lest the spread of principles opposed to the Government policy should ultimately render its position insecure. Throughout it was Prince Sanjo who presided over the deliberations of the Cabinet, and who enjoyed the complete confidence of his imperial master. A great demand arose for the revision of the treaties into which Japan had entered with foreign nations, at a time when she practically had no choice but to throw open her ports to over-sea trade. Year after year this momentous problem, how to procure for the country adequate recognition of its paramount rights, while it chafed under the claims of foreigners to enjoy the immunities afforded by extra-territorial jurisdiction, obtruded itself, but it was not until the Dai-jo-kwan had given place to a Cabinet in 1886 that a satisfactory stage leading to revision was entered upon, and then Prince Sanjo had ceased to be Premier.

Five years previously the nation had passed through a crisis in its financial affairs due to the difficulties arising from a superabundant issue of paper currency, and trade had been temporarily affected in a way to give the maximum of concern to the Ministry. Brave efforts were made, and with an appreciable measure of success, to economise in every department of State. With the revival of commercial prosperity to some extent in the autumn there was promulgated the imperial decree granting a Constitution, to take effect in 1889, and for the assembly of a Parliament in 1890. These gracious fulfilments of the promise vouchsafed to his people by the sovereign at his accession filled the nation with joy, and it was resolved that steps should be taken to frame a Constitution which should be acceptable to the monarch and at the same time satisfy all the legitimate aspirations of his loyal subjects. To this end it was agreed that Marquis Ito should visit Europe, there to complete his studies of Constitutional law and history, in order that he should be in a position to offer the Emperor advice on every point in connection with which information might be desired. By 1884 the internal progress of the Empire was such as to give the utmost confidence to the administration of which Prince Sanjo remained the head, and it had become practicable to regard the unrestricted opening of the country to foreign commerce and residence as being within the domain of practical politics, and indeed within measurable distance.

By the time that it had become desirable, in 1886, to reconstitute the Government on a model more suited to the requirements of a regime based upon parliamentary procedure, the new army of Japan had attained dimensions which warranted the Ministry in entertaining high hopes of its future serviceability as the safeguard of the national interests, and simultaneously the navy had risen to the condition of being a formidable force. The army mustered at this stage over 100,000 of all ranks, and in the fleet there were twenty-six vessels, five of them ironclads, in all mounting some 225 guns. The railway system had grown to a total of nearly 300 miles, and there were 5000 miles of telegraph. In one way and another the outgoing governing council was able to give a thoroughly satisfactory account of its stewardship, for while in Korea there had been rioting resulting in the deaths of a number of Japanese, and the War party at Tokio had clamoured for retaliatory measures at Seoul, a treaty had been negotiated on acceptable terms with the Peking Government and Japan had, by the moderation of her demands for redress, averted the danger which threatened of an open rupture with consequences for which Japan was herself at that period but ill prepared.

On being relieved of his office of Dai-jo-dai-jin Prince Sanjo went nominally into retirement, but his services as an adviser to the Crown were not infrequently called for, until his health failed him in 1889.

His decease took place in February 1891, of influenza, and just before his death the Emperor visited him and conferred on him, as an old and faithful servant, the highest rank that it is possible for a Japanese subject to attain, and which had not been bestowed by an Emperor of Japan on anyone since the Eleventh Century.

IX

COUNT INOUYE KAORU

Like others who have been prominent in the making of modern Japan, Count Inouye was a soldier before he became a statesman. To most of the foreign residents in Japan at the period immediately following the Restoration of Imperial rule he was best known as the Finance Minister, Inouye Bunda. To his countrymen he was the dashing Choshiu leader who had commanded the samurai troops of the southern clan in the fierce and prolonged strife of pre-Restoration days between his lord and the Bakufu, or Government of the Shogun. He and many of his colleagues in the first Imperial Government had made names for themselves as deft wielders of the long keen swords that they wore in their belts rather than for sage advice in the council chamber, but they speedily gave proof of exceptional ability in directions far removed from the ordinary path of the _bushi_, whose province it was of old “to follow his chief to the field.” But prior to his defeat of the Tokugawa forces the future financier had spent more than a year in England and the capitals of the Continent, having contrived to make his escape from his own land when foreign travel was still interdicted. A batch of students left Japan in 1863 intending to remain abroad for a five years’ course of study, but Inouye heard of the troubles that were thickening in connection with his own province consequent upon the attitude of its lord towards foreign intercourse, and having had opportunities of judging of the military strength of the Occidental nations in the course of his journey through Europe resolved in company with his friend Ito Shunsuke to return forthwith and warn the Choshiu baron of the risks that were being incurred by the clan. They left their fellow-students behind them in Europe and hastened to Yokohama, where they found the combined squadron on the point of sailing for Shimonoseki, to punish the daimio of Choshiu for firing on passing ships. Armed with letters from the Foreign Ministers to the baron Mori, their lord, Ito and Inouye took passage in one of the warships, and were at their own desire landed at a point on the coast, in the Suwo Nada, as that part of the Inland Sea is termed, and made their way by road to Hagi, where the daimio was then in residence. Hagi is some forty miles across country from the Suwo Nada, and Inouye and his companion ran considerable risk of being discovered and brought to book for having quitted the province without leave. They assumed the disguise of medical men, who were permitted in those days to wear one sword, and were thus not wholly without means of defence had they been attacked in the mountains, and they succeeded in reaching the castle town to which they were bound without being delayed on the road. But they found the baron Mori entirely averse to the proposition that he should withdraw his standing order to the forts to fire on strangers, and on the other hand, though their reception had not been unkindly, they were ordered to return with a message of defiance to the squadron they had left in the Inland Sea. Three days in all had elapsed when they rejoined the British man-of-war _Barrosa_ and communicated the purport of their lord’s reply. One course only remained open to the British and other commanders, and the vessels steamed to a selected position in the straits, just out of the strong current, and early the next morning prepared for the assault. Not without warning, however, for due notice was given of the intention, failing surrender. The Choshiu batteries were eight in number, beginning at Chofu, three miles east of the town of Shimonoseki,—and now the first railway station on the Sanyo line towards Kobé,—and extending thence to the hill, opposite Moji Point, where the main street of Bakan—another name for Shimonoseki, and in general use—begins. Seventy-four guns were mounted in the eight batteries, and the instant that the guns of the squadron opened fire, on the expiration of the allotted time, the most vigorous response was made by the Japanese gunners. The most powerful of Choshiu’s ordnance was mounted at Maita-mura, a village midway between Bakan and Chofu. After some severe fighting, in the course of which the town of Bakan took fire and burned fiercely, the batteries were silenced, and the British ship _Barrosa_ landed a party of bluejackets and marines to aid in extinguishing the conflagration. During the engagement one man on board a foreign ship was killed by an arrow, the Choshiu men having fallen back on archery to help them in the defence of their positions. On the surrender of the forts a document was drawn up for the baron’s signature, agreeing to certain conditions for the withdrawal of the attacking squadron, and Ito and Inouye were once more despatched at the request of the local government to represent the utter impossibility of holding out against superior force. The envoys returned two days later with the agreement sealed, and seventy-two guns, then supposed to be the total number in use, were taken on board the allied vessels. Two guns were unwittingly left in position on the hillside, commanding the straits, for the writer found them there when surveying the locality ten years afterwards, all but hidden in the dense undergrowth. The Choshiu samurai were not a little proud of the resistance which they had been able to offer to the foreign ships’ attack, and the townspeople never forgot the magnanimous behaviour of the victors in going ashore to quench the flames that the battle had originated.

The men of Choshiu, some fifty or more in all, who fell in the memorable fight were interred in a special cemetery situated on rising ground in the rear of the town, and the graves are still tended with that loving care which is invariably bestowed everywhere in Japan on the burial-places of relatives and friends. The Frenchmen,—it is said there were three,—who were killed aboard the French warships, were taken ashore on the Moji side for interment, and at a later date the French admiral visited the spot, and, according to report, discovered that the graves had been wilfully desecrated, indeed,—as it was said,—wholly destroyed. That some misapprehension must have existed on this point is certain, since the writer was conducted by a farmer, who dwelt near Moji point, to the spot where the three sailors had been buried, and to all appearances the graves, though surrounded by dense vegetation, were intact. This was in the year 1873, when a submarine cable was being laid across the Straits to form part of the Japanese telegraph system. The farmer knew that those who fell on the side of the allies lay in that secluded spot, and expressed his regret that being a poor man he could do nothing to show his respect for those who had perished at the post of duty. The undergrowth was cleared away, and the soil had been purposely left untouched by rake or hoe. This was more than thirty years ago, and it is impossible for the writer to say whether or not some suitable memorial to the French victims of the battle has since been set up at the place indicated, but in any case there must still be people dwelling near it who know where the interments took place, as the story of the combined attack on the forts and the incidents of the struggle is told with zest by father to son, and on the Shimonoseki side the festival of the dead is regularly held at the tiny graveyard at the back of the main street.

Only a little while before the date of the Shimonoseki bombardment the Choshiu retainers at the baronial mansion in Kioto had engaged in hostilities with the Shogun’s supporters at the capital, and so close to the imperial palace were the combatants that the walls were repeatedly struck by bullets. This was during the lifetime of the Emperor Komei, and the now reigning sovereign was then only ten years of age, this early experience of hearing shots fired in anger, and particularly in the immediate vicinity of the imperial palace, though indicative of the pitch to which clan jealousy and animosity had at that period attained, being such as his Majesty was not likely to forget.

As to Choshiu, the sequel to the attack made by the clansmen on the Shogun’s troops was that the Emperor Komei issued an edict deposing the lord Mori and directing the Shogun, as Commander-in-chief of the forces, to punish him for his rebellious behaviour. The Choshiu clan thus found itself in a position of antagonism to the imperial house, as well as to the Bakufu, and as at the same moment it was assailed by the combined foreign fleets at the Straits of Shimonoseki, in consequence of its attacks on passing vessels, the head of the clan was driven to the necessity of defending both flanks as best he could. He contrived to stall off the assault of the Shogun’s troops for the few days that he was engaged at Shimonoseki, where his forts were demolished by the fire of Admiral Kuper’s men-of-war and their allies, and when that trouble was past he raised the standard of rebellion in real earnest and defied the Shogun openly. Discipline and drill (for they were armed with Tower rifles, and had been partially trained on a Western system) served the men of Choshiu well, and they succeeded in inflicting a severe defeat on the forces of Iyemochi, who led his men in person. In this encounter between the forces of Choshiu and the Shogun the Satsuma clan stood aloof, possibly as the result of private negotiations between the clan leaders, for there were at this time several persons making their way to the front who were destined at no very remote date to play the most important parts in the affairs of the nation. On the Choshiu side were Ito and Inouye, on the Satsuma side were Saigo and Okubo, all men whose names will never fade in the history of their country’s emancipation from feudalism. The leaders of the two clans were united, moreover, by a bond of common interest, inasmuch as all desired to bring about the abolition of the Shogunate and secure the revival of direct imperial rule by the Emperor himself. The future Marquis Ito and Count Inouye had at this time only just returned from their first visit to Europe, as already recorded, and they lost no time in impressing upon their fellow-clansmen of Choshiu the advantages of military preparation for the coming struggle. The spirit of loyalty to the clan with which they were animated prompted them to ensure, as far as was practicable, that it should be in a position to do itself justice in the final effort which was then about to be made to restore the personal authority of the Ten-shi.