Part 9

“Your lordship speaks well. We do not want any more trouble with them _now_. The next time we have trouble with them, it will not be we who pay the bills. They will be as safe here as in their own homes. Our samurai shall know why they are here. They shall know that we must dissemble; pretend that we are pleased with our defeat, and that we love the men who invaded our soil. But this dissembling will not last forever, and a time shall come when this defeat is wiped out. May we live to see it!”

The order was then passed and Ito resumed: “The next thing that _must_ be done is to come to an understanding with Satsuma and the other Southern clans. Yes, I know, gentlemen, the dish is not palatable, but there is nothing for it but to eat it.” A feud existed between Satsuma and Choshiu and to the older Councillors this advice was extremely repugnant. “We have no choice. Choshiu alone can not reduce the united Tokugawa Clans, and Tokugawa must be deposed unless we wish to see the barbarian our master. Satsuma, after all, is of our blood, and has the same interests. Tosa too, must join. I propose then that I undertake this disagreeable work; somebody must do it, and I do not suppose that any one cares for the honor.”

There was a silence. At last one of the Councillors spoke: I suppose that Mr. Ito is right. Let it be as he wishes. I agree with him that of the two, Satsuma is preferable to the barbarians.

The order was entered upon the books and the council adjourned. The two friends left together. Inouye said he would start the next day.

“Have you any objection if I take Ekichi with me?”

Ito looked up, smiled, and said: “None at all.”

XX

DRILLING

The severe defeats suffered by Choshiu had reduced the number of samurai of the clan. After thinking deeply upon the matter, Ito proposed to the Council a measure which met with the most strenuous opposition, and, being earnestly supported by Inouye, was at last adopted with many an ominous shake of the head. It was, namely, that the ranks should be recruited from among the young and strong members of the people. The older members of the council urged, not unnaturally, that the samurai would never suffer such an infringement upon the privileges of their rank. Both Ito and Inouye had more confidence in the loyalty of the samurai, and they were right. The very best of foreign rifles had been purchased by Inouye and arrived in due time. Then the instructors came, and drilling went on from morning to night. The young men of the people vied with the samurai in zeal and enthusiasm, they were all equally and regularly paid and well treated. After some time artillery began to arrive, and a corps of men was detailed to learn gunnery. Among all the young men there was none more zealous than Ekichi. After a year’s drill, when officers were appointed he was made a lieutenant.

In the shadow side of the dual part in the Japanese character, there is no passion so strong as that of revenge. Subterfuge, the most dastardly treachery, are praiseworthy and commendable, if they serve to obtain revenge for the killing of a near relation. The written constitution of old Japan (Legacy of Iyeyasu), prescribed:

“In respect to revenging injury done to master or father, it is granted by the wise and virtuous (sage)[91] that you and the injurer can not live together under the canopy of heaven.

“A person harboring such vengeance shall notify the same in writing to the Criminal Court; and although no check or hindrance may be offered to his carrying out his desire within the period allowed for that purpose, it is forbidden that the chastisement of an enemy be attended with riot.

“Fellows who neglect to give notice of their intended revenge are like wolves of pretext, and their punishment or pardon should depend upon the circumstances of the case.”

Ekichi suspected Sawa. If he had been asked for the reason, he would have been at a loss, except that he had seen him at Kyoto on the day of the flight of the kugé. He had never liked the spy, and he had worshiped his father. The lesson of self-control, thoroughly mastered by him, enabled him to bend his mind upon his studies. But the moments which he allowed himself for relaxation, were spent in brooding upon revenge.

Inouye suspected it, and for that reason had taken him with him to Yokohama. While there he had found time to go to Kanagawa where he called upon the physician in his samurai dress. The family scarcely recognized their former houseboy who, in gratitude for former kindness, presented his late employer with a choice piece of lacquer. Inouye had watched Ekichi keenly during this visit, and had noticed the absolute self control with which he received the advances of the barbarians. At dinner, he simply imitated Inouye but with such perfect self-possession, that it seemed as if he had been using knife and fork all his life, although it was the first time he saw them.

At Yokohama, too, his face expressed no emotion at what he saw; only when in passing the hatoba, Inouye remarked that his father had worked here, the boy prostrated himself and saluted. He was utterly unconscious of the laughter of some rude barbarians. Inouye noticed, however, that he asked for the names in English, after he had heard him converse in that language.

When they returned to Nagato, he had asked to be enrolled in the army and his request was granted. Inouye had offered to teach him English, an offer which was gladly accepted, and he made such progress that he was able to read understandingly and to keep up a fair conversation.

The Tokugawa in the meanwhile was boasting of how the Shogun would annihilate Choshiu, and in 1865 Iyemochi himself took the field. The foreigners at Yokohama were permitted to witness the march of the redoubted troops. They came straggling by, as an eye-witness describes in bands of three or four, a motley array, with very little stomach for the business in hand. The same witness states that, upon arrival at Odawara[92] the majority of the higher samurai applied for leave of absence on account of sickness; whereupon they were told that they could go, but that their revenues would be taken from them, whereupon they recovered their health. They remained that year quartered at Kyoto and Osaka, for the Shogun did not care to lead such an army against a brave and desperate clan. He tried to induce other clans to join him, but they refused flatly.

Stung by the ridicule heaped upon them by Japanese and foreigner alike, the Tokugawa troops at last opened the campaign, in the summer of 1866. Instead of attempting to overwhelm the clan by sheer force of numbers, Iyemochi divided his army into three divisions, each of which was separately routed by Choshiu. This restored the prestige of the clan, while it ruined that of Tokugawa.

In every battle Ekichi had excelled for coolness and courage, and it was predicted that he would rise as his father had done before him. In the latter part of September the news was brought to Nagato that Iyemochi, the Shogun was dead. Shortly later it also became known that Tokugawa Keiki had succeeded, but by appointment from Tenshi Sama.

The death of Tenshi Sama Osahito,[93] better known by his posthumous name of Komei[94] Tenno, and the succession of his son Mutsuhito, then a boy of fifteen produced a great change. Ito and Inouye held frequent and long conferences, and the former was often absent from the clan.

Their own experience within Choshiu’s narrow limits, had convinced them that they were on the right track. The whole strength of Choshiu’s clan had been called out, and had repeatedly defeated the overwhelming forces of the Tokugawa; but it had been able to do so only after acquiring the principles of foreign art of war. Ito disliked and mistrusted the foreigners, whereas Inouye’s experience as well as his strong power of discernment rather inclined him toward them. Both, however, were agreed in their love of their country; and both agreed that the Japanese must acquire every particle of knowledge in the possession of the barbarians. More than that: their manners, habits, and customs, must be studied and such as served in any way to strengthen the national life, must be introduced and adapted. But before anything could be done in that direction, the Tokugawa must be laid low. Nothing could possibly be done so long as a clan so degenerate was foremost in the country.

Ito went to Satzuma, and met OKubo, Saigo, and Terashima. In OKubo and Terashima he met men who felt and thought like he. Saigo, a splendid specimen of manhood, over six feet in height, was equally predisposed against the Tokugawa, but was not able to look beyond the clan. As there was no warrant against any of these men except those of the Choshiu clan, they moved to Kyoto, and the rebuilt capital again became a hotbed of intrigue.

Tokugawa Keiki declined the appointment of Shogun, but was compelled to accept. The councillors of the several Tokugawa clans were very well aware that their sun had set, and urged his appointment as of a man who was personally popular with the other clans. But Keiki perceived that the days of the Shogunate were past. It is not improbable that he himself perceived, as Ii Navsuke had done before, that united Japan only would be able to maintain its independence and such a Japan could not exist under two heads. He offered repeatedly to resign, but the Gosho had no liking for the idea of leaving its repose. The majority of the members clung to the ideas of Nijo. As to the boy emperor, he had no more voice than his father had had before him, or than Mori possessed within Choshiu’s clan. In the regeneration of Japan, no help could be expected from Miya, Kuge, or Daimiyo, long since converted into puppets by the very duality of the national character. The men who undertook the work were unknown nobodies; but it was exactly by such men that the different clans had been ruled separately, and by combining together they could rule all the clans, that is Japan, collectively.

Strictly speaking, therefore, there was no vital change in the affairs of Japan so long as the government was nominally in the hands of a figurehead, and in reality in those of the samurai. In all these troubles, the people had no share, nor did they take any interest in them, except when their own personal interests were directly affected. In the eyes of the dominating class the people had no existence; and when, in the documents of those days the word “people” is used, it refers solely to the samurai.

Although Aidzu was still in possession of Kyoto, and in charge of the gates of the Gosho, the half-hearted orders of Keiki permitted the leaders of Satsuma and other clans to communicate with their friends within the Council, and once again the men who were for repose at any cost felt the ground moving from under their feet. They brought pressure to bear upon the Shogun, and he once again offered his resignation. It was accepted on the 9th of November, 1867, but upon condition that for the present he should continue the administration.

XXI

DOWN WITH TOKUGAWA!

Great events were expected when the year 1868 dawned. Couriers arrived daily at Nagato from Kyoto, and our two friends, as well as the banished kuge were in a fever of expectation. Ekichi had asked and obtained furlough, and had left for Kyoto. He was greatly attached to Inouye, and frequently forestalled his wishes, but in a quiet, unobtrusive way. He was, moreover, so sedate in his habits, that there was no cause for watching him. However much Ito and Inouye would have done for him for the sake of his late father, they felt that his future could be safely left to himself.

The two friends had taken dinner together on the 7th of January, when the galloping of a horse was heard, and the animal stopped evidently in front of the yashiki. After a slight delay, a servant appeared and announced Mr. Kano. A moment later Ekichi entered, somewhat flushed. They saluted, and Inouye who observed him closely, said:

“You came on horseback and evidently had a long journey. Have you had dinner?”

“No, sir, I did not wish to loiter on the road.”

A servant was ordered to serve dinner to the guest. After he had finished, Inouye resumed:

“You bring important news, do you not?”

“Satsuma, Tosa, and some other clans took possession of the Gosho, four days ago, and Arisugawa no Miya is guardian on His Majesty.”

Inouye clapped his hands. When his attendant appeared, he told him to go to the castle, and request the kuge to honor him with a call. Ito, who had been charged with the command of the army, rose and said: “Shall we march in the morning?”

“Yes,” was the reply, “that will be best.”

The two friends had so often considered what they would do when this time should arrive, that no further consultation was necessary. Ito went first to the most active Councillor, and explained to him what had happened; he then proceeded to the barracks, and gave orders that the army was to march at six in the morning. When he returned, he found the kuge, highly pleased at the prospect of their speedy return. They knew that, with Arisugawa as adviser, Tenshi Sama would restore them to honor, and Mori would be exculpated. Indeed, at four o’clock in the morning a messenger arrived bringing the official papers.

The two Councillors breakfasted with the kuge. During the meal, Ito said:

“We must make hurried marches, gentlemen. Tokugawa will not submit peaceably. If our friends prevail, it means the ruin of the Tokugawa men; hence I expect we shall have trouble.”

The army marched out, leaving only a sufficient number of men to guard the territory of the clan. It was now that the difference between samurai and an army on the march could be best observed. The men stepped out evenly in close ranks, and easily, and without apparent fatigue performed a two days’ journey. The kuge were surprised. Ito and Inouye explained what had been done, and the reason for it. Whereas the daimiyo had never traveled to Kyoto in less than seven days, the Choshiu men arrived at their yashiki within four days from the time they left Nagato.

The kuge were escorted to the Palace. Here they found that an entirely new order prevailed. The allied clans guarded the gates, but permitted free ingress and egress to all samurai except such as bore the Tokugawa crest. An imperial decree had been issued abolishing the office of Shogun, and declaring that the government would be conducted by the imperial court. Negotiations were being conducted with Keiki to arrive at an equitable settlement.

Brought up as he had been as the son of Mito, Keiki had always trusted to his councillors, and was quite as ignorant of affairs as Mori. He has been accused of vacillation, but personally he was not consulted at all. Answers, of which he knew nothing, were given in his name and under his seal. It was quite natural that among his councillors there should be two parties, the one advocating submission, the other resistance. The answer depended upon the majority among his councillors.

At last it was decided by his advisers that he should leave Kyoto and withdraw to Osaka. He was escorted by the two clans of Aidzu and Kuwana, both intensely attached to the house of Iyeyasu, and unspoiled. Their leaders urged, and almost compelled Keiki to fight. Himself possessed of patriotic impulses, he refused.

The new government at Kyoto dreaded war; not from fear, but on account of the probable consequences. Sanjo and Iwakura had been reinstated and were often in conference with Ito, Inouye, Goto, OKubo, and Saigo. It was plainly evident that the government could not be carried on without revenue, and the Court possessed nothing but a pittance allotted to it from Tokugawa’s superfluity. If war should follow, Tokugawa had resources, while the court had none. Even at present the Court depended entirely upon the generosity of the clans which had been instrumental in effecting the revolution.

But the ex-Shogun or his party had also very good reasons for avoiding civil war. It was they who would be Choteki this time, and every Japanese has a horror of that word. Besides, the Tokugawa clans were divided among themselves. Echizen and Owari had openly declared for Tenshi Sama, and had, in fact aided in ousting Aidzu. There was thus every prospect of peace, and the Court, to facilitate negotiations, despatched the daimiyo of Echizen and Owari, to offer the Tokugawa clan a fair share in the government.

Keiki wished to accept; indeed, he was most anxious to wash his hands of all interference with politics, but Aidzu and Kuwana would not have it. They expected to restore the old order of things, and Keiki escorted by the two clans, much against his will, set out upon the return journey to Kyoto.

The army of the allied clans was small, being almost completely composed of Satsuma and Choshiu men. But these men were excellently drilled, for Satsuma, too, had had a lesson from the barbarians, and profited by it. The loyal army, that is the army of the allied clans had taken a strong position at Fushimi. The Yodo river connects this town with Osaka, with a good road on each bank. The Tokugawa forces marched by both banks, and were received by a well-directed artillery fire. The rice fields prevented them from deploying and, as they understood nothing but a hand to hand mêlee, they had no chance in taking a strong strategic position. Three days they attempted to carry Fushimi and failed. Then they broke and fled, pursued by the victorious imperialists.

Ekichi had commanded a battery in this battle, and had again distinguished himself by his calmness and steadiness under fire. When the battle was over, he went to his commanding officer, and begged to be detailed for the pursuit. His request was granted, and soon he was among the foremost of the imperialists. It was noticed that he did not use his sword, except in self-defense. Half-way toward Osaka the pursuers were commanded to halt.

The imperial forces were not strong enough to cope with those of the Tokugawa, and orders were sent to the loyal clans to send reinforcements. From all parts of the South and West samurai hurried to support the Tenshi Sama’s cause and it was not long before the loyal army set out in pursuit.

Keiki had escaped from Aidzu by departing for Yedo on one of his steamships; upon his arrival there he sent in his submission, but the mountain clans would not obey his orders. It is odd that he should not have taken his seal with him; if these same orders had been issued over his seal, there is no doubt that Aidzu and Kuwana would have submitted. But personal government had for centuries been unknown in Japan. If Mori, personally, should have given an order to Choshiu, nobody would have paid any attention to it; and if an order to exactly the opposite effect had appeared over his seal, it would have been obeyed at once.

We shall now return to our friends.

While the Choshiu forces, escorting the recalled kuge were marching toward Kyoto, Ito remained behind, quietly biding his time. After the battle of Fushimi was fought and Keiki had embarked for Yedo, the Tokugawa officials deserted their posts and fled. Ito at once went to the administration building, and declared himself governor for his Majesty Tenshi Sama. He took over the government, and prevented lawlessness.

Kobe, a part of the beach in the immediate vicinity of Hyogo had been opened to foreigners, and Ito declared it his purpose to protect them. The same policy had been adopted by those who advised the young Emperor. Japan was never in a worse position to defy a foreign power and her leaders were aware of the fact. One and all they hated the barbarians, but they loved their country more. They had roughly outlined a policy which was to make of Japan a united and great country, and that object they lost never out of sight.

At Yedo the Aidzu clan made a stand at the beautiful temple at Uyeno (Pron. Oo-way-no). Here Ekichi was in the van. Both parties fought with desperate courage, but Tokugawa lost. Among the dead was Kano Ekichi, the son of the dead leader.

XXII

CONCLUSION

Thirty-seven years have passed since this story opened. It is in the month of May, 1895, and two men are sitting at a hibachi in an upper room in Shinagawa, formerly a suburb of Yedo, now a part of the city of Tokyo. The men were hale and hearty, but their gray hair, bordering on white, showed that they were beyond middle age. Their hair was cut after our fashion, but one wore a straggling beard, while the other’s snow-white moustache showed off to advantage his small mouth.

The room where they were sitting was at the back of the second story of a house, which, apparently at least was of our cottage style of architecture. If one had pressed the electric bell, and entered it, he would not have seen anything except what might be expected in the home of a well-to-do American or European. He might have noticed the taste displayed by the owner, and the quiet, unobtrusive elegance, but it would not have caused him to suspect that he was in the house of a Japanese.

The whole of the lower floor, except the kitchen and servants’ rooms, was such as one might have expected in an opulent American or English city. The upper story, however, retained the native simplicity, save that walls, instead of the light, airy sho ji, helped to support the roof. The prospect from every side was lovely, for the house stood on one of the bluffs, bordering the former Tokaido. That highway was there still, but its glory has departed. Every hour, and sometimes more frequently, trains run between Yokohama and Tokyo, and thousands of passengers mingle daily in the large waiting-rooms and in the depot at Shinbashi. There the former daimiyo comes in actual contact with the ninzoku, and the kuge of old stands by the side of the merchant.

The front of the house gives a view of the bay, lovely at high tide but disagreeable when the ebb exposes mud-banks extending three miles from the shore. It will not be long before the government will perceive the value of this land, and the eyesore will disappear. If Rome could have been built in a day, these Japanese would have done it.

If Ito looks from the windows on the right, toward Shinagawa, his eye must fall upon the handsome residence of Mori, where the son of his former lord now leads a life of quiet elegance. He is well satisfied with it. When Ito, now higher in rank than his former lord, calls to pay his respects as he often does, the same relation seems to exist as in former days. Again Ito is the simple samurai, his lord the daimiyo, and in both there is a secret longing for the days that are past. But when they look about them that longing ceases, and they are glad and proud of what they see.

From the windows in the left, Ito looks upon Tokyo, now grown into one of the world cities. Has it changed in these thirty-seven years? To be sure it has, but not oppressively. As we walk through the streets where dwell the people, we notice that they are wider and cleaner; but the houses are still as they were before, although there is evidence of greater prosperity. In Ginza, the street of the large shops, we see a mixture of the occident and orient, not altogether pleasant; houses built in foreign style, divided into Japanese rooms or Japanese houses with imitation foreign stores. Still it is all Japanese, that is, we can not, even for a moment, lose sight of the fact that we are in Japan.