Part 17

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.