CHAPTER XI

Changes and Reforms—Relations with China and Korea—Rupture in Ministry—Secession of Tosa and Hizen Leaders—Progress of Reforms—Annexation of Loochoo—Discontent of Former Military Class.

The changes introduced after the Restoration group themselves broadly into two kinds—those borrowed from abroad, and those due to the inspiration of the reformers themselves. The reforms affecting the land, which we have already considered, fall essentially into the latter category. Though some colouring of Western ideas may be apparent in the stress laid on uniformity of tenure and taxation, and in some other respects, the land reform, viewed as a whole, was the logical outcome of the abolition of feudalism. It was thus from the first a matter into which domestic considerations alone entered, one that was free, therefore, from any marked foreign influences.

Of a different kind, and bearing the manifest impress of importation from the West, were the introduction of conscription on European—mainly German—lines; the creation of a postal system, and the opening of a mint; the construction of the first railways, telegraphs and dockyards; the suppression of anti-Christian edicts, and the cessation of religious persecution; the adoption of the Gregorian Calendar; the formation of a Board for the development of Yezo; the establishment of treaty relations with China in accordance with Western usages; the creation of the Tōkiō University; and the removal of the prohibition regarding the use, in speech or writing, of the Mikado’s name. All these changes occurred in rapid succession in the short space of five years.

With regard to the change, or reform, last mentioned—the removal of the interdict regarding the use of the Emperor’s name—to foreigners the permission seems as strange as the prohibition. It sounds like an echo from remote ages. But it is difficult to exaggerate the gulf which had hitherto separated the Throne from the people. Only in an ironical sense could the phrase “the fierce light that beats upon a throne” have been applied to a Japanese monarch. Both the throne and its occupant were veiled in mysterious shadow, and to the respect due to royalty was added the veneration paid to a God. In the case of the Mikado, his name never appeared in writing until 1868, when the Message dated the 3rd February of that year, announcing to foreign Governments his assumption of “supreme authority,” in consequence of the Shōgun’s voluntary resignation of “the governing power,” was delivered to the foreign representatives. This Message bore the signature “Mutsuhito,” which purported to be the sign-manual of the Sovereign. The change introduced was, however, of no practical importance, for no one wished to make use of the permission vouchsafed. It is interesting only from the fact of its being a significant departure from traditional custom, and also because it illustrates the spirit in which all reform was conceived.

The establishment in 1871 of a new Board, or minor department, for the development of the then northernmost island of Yezo, thenceforth to be known as the _Hokkaidō_, or Northern Sea Circuit—one of the many geographical areas distinguished by this name into which Japan is divided—calls for notice chiefly from the fact that it was one of the few instances of reforms which were unsuccessful. For the enterprise in question the services of American experts were engaged. The project, on which in all some £10,000,000 are stated to have been spent, languished from the outset, though some benefit was ultimately derived from the horse-breeding industry which was then created; and ten years later the Board was dissolved. It was in connection with the abandonment of this undertaking, the direction of which was entrusted to General Kuroda, a leading Satsuma clansman, that Marquis (then Mr.) Ōkuma left the Ministry, which he did not rejoin until seven years later.

Various reasons were assigned for this failure, charges of official corruption being freely made. As to one contributory cause there can be little doubt—the distaste, or, it may be, the constitutional unfitness, of the Japanese people for what may be called the pioneer work of colonization. Those who differ from this view may point to the success achieved by Japan elsewhere, in Formosa, for instance, which she received as part of the fruits of her victory over China in the war of 1894–95. The conditions in that case, however, were exceptionally favourable. The secret of her success there lay in the great natural riches of the island, due to virtues of climate and soil, in a plentiful supply of cheap labour, and in the still, industry and organizing talent which distinguish the Japanese people. Formosa produces nearly the whole of the world’s supply of camphor, of which Japan has made a State monopoly. Among other notable products are cane sugar, now also a State monopoly, tea and rice. The development of these staple products is a tribute to the thoroughness of Japanese administrative methods. But the Japanese were never pioneers there; nor did they create the industries they developed. These owe their inception to the Chinese population, originally settlers from the mainland, which was disputing the hill country with the aborigines when the Japanese arrived. Ten years after the Japanese occupation of the island the Japanese inhabitants, including many officials, numbered only 40,000, as compared with some 100,000 aborigines, with whom an intermittent warfare is still being carried on, and about 3,000,000 Chinese. These figures speak for themselves.

The less favourable conditions of climate and soil under which similar operations have been conducted in the northernmost Japanese islands have led to very different results. Of recent years, owing to the exploitation of coal mines and the general growth of shipping and commerce, there has been a marked advance in the development of Yezo. As compared, however, with the great strides made by Japan in other directions, the record of what has been accomplished there in the half century which has elapsed since the Restoration is disappointing. Viewed in conjunction with other facts, it justifies the inference that while the industry and enterprise of the Japanese people ensure remarkable results in favourable conditions, where no pioneer work is demanded,—as in Formosa, Hawaii, and the Pacific coasts of Canada and America—neither by physique nor by temperament are they fitted to cope under adverse circumstances with the strenuous toil and severe hardships of pioneer colonization. And this conclusion is supported by what we know of the Japanese occupation of Manchurian territory. The point is of importance as bearing on the question of finding an outlet for the surplus population of Japan, a subject which is frequently discussed in the Japanese Press, and which will be referred to again in a later chapter.

If the importance of a subject in public affairs were measured merely by the amount of attention and labour bestowed upon it, religion would occupy an inconspicuous place in the list of reforms of the Meiji era. Only to a limited extent, and then only as identified in a general way with progressive ideas of Western origin, can the measures taken in regard to religion be regarded as coming under the head of reforms borrowed from abroad. Apart from slight changes in the details of ceremonial observances at religious festivals, adopted later on, and designed to bring such popular celebrations more into keeping with Western notions of propriety and decorum, religious reform had from the first a merely negative character. It did not extend beyond the withdrawal of the anti-Christian measures that were a survival of the Christian persecutions of the seventeenth century. It is generally admitted that the anti-Christian feeling which then arose, and the cruel penal laws it inspired, were due to political more than to religious causes. In the toleration extended to Christianity, which found expression in the withdrawal of anti-Christian edicts, we again see the operation of political rather than religious motives. Political expediency, not religious animosity, was thus associated with the beginning and end of the anti-Christian movement. This is in accordance with all that we know of the Japanese character. All accounts of Japan, whether written by Japanese or foreigners, testify to the absence of anything approaching to religious fanaticism.

As for the other measures affecting religion taken by the new Government, they were not even progressive in intention, for they were avowedly a return to what had existed centuries before. They were, however, in accordance with the principles professed by the Imperialists at the time of the Restoration; and this was the reason for their adoption. It will be more convenient to consider these changes under the head of Religion, which will be treated in subsequent chapters.

On the return of the Iwakura Mission from abroad in 1873 its members became aware of the serious crisis in domestic affairs which had occurred in their absence. A difference of opinion had arisen on the subject of Korea. Since the ultimate failure of the Japanese invasion of that country, towards the close of the sixteenth century, which was due to the intervention of China at a moment when Japan had exhausted herself in the long struggle, the relations between the two countries had been restricted to the conduct of a trifling trade, and to formal missions of courtesy sent to announce the accession of a new Sovereign, or to offer congratulations on the occasion. This trade was carried on by the Japanese at the port of Pusan, on the southern coast of Korea opposite the Japanese island of Tsushima. Here there was a small commercial establishment doing business with the Koreans much in the same way as the Dutch had previously traded with the Japanese through their factory at Déshima (Nagasaki). There was a further resemblance between the former Dutch position in Japan and that of the Japanese in Korea in the fact that through ill-will, or lack of enterprise on the part of the Koreans, the trading operations of the Japanese merchants had become gradually more and more restricted. At the time in question the attitude of the Koreans towards the residents in the tiny settlement was the reverse of friendly, and the Japanese authorities had withdrawn from Pusan all but subordinate officials. According to Japanese accounts, the Koreans appear to have continued to send periodical missions of courtesy during the whole period of Tokugawa rule. But when the Restoration took place they refused to send the customary envoy to Tōkiō, and also declined to receive the envoy despatched by the new Japanese Government. Their refusal to have any further intercourse with Japan was based on the ground that by adopting a new and progressive policy she had shown herself to be in league with Western barbarians, thus abandoning the traditions of the Far East to which China and Korea remained faithful. This affront to Japanese dignity caused great resentment throughout the country. It came at a moment when there was already a good deal of friction and smouldering ill-feeling amongst the leading members of the Government, and the Cabinet, if we may so regard the inner political group which controlled affairs, became at once divided into two parties. One of these, led by the elder Saigō, Soyéshima, Itō Shimpei, Itagaki and Gotō, urged the immediate despatch of a strong remonstrance. Of this Saigō was anxious to be the bearer, a course which, as everyone who knew the then temper of the nation, and the character of the suggested envoy, was aware, must, if followed, lead to war. The other party, consisting of Chōshiū and other clansmen centred round the Prime Minister, though little disposed to condone any deliberate discourtesy on the part of a neighbouring State which had played so prominent a part in Japanese history, felt that the moment was inopportune for war. They also probably distrusted—and not without reason—the motives which actuated the advocates of an aggressive policy.

The matter was referred to Iwakura and his colleagues in the mission. Their influence turned the scale in favour of a peaceful solution of the difficulty, with the result that the leaders of the war party resigned their positions in the Government, their example being followed by many subordinate office-holders. Saigō and one or two others retired to their native provinces, the rest remaining in the Capital. This took place in October, 1873.

The rupture in the Ministry—the first to occur since the formation of the new Government five years before—had ostensibly arisen over the Korean question. But in reality there were other issues at stake. This much is clear from the Memorial presented to the Government in January of the following year by four of the retiring statesmen, Soyéshima, Itō Shimpei, Itagaki and Gotō, together with five other officials of lesser note, whose names do not concern us. Neither in the Memorial itself, nor in the joint letter in which it was enclosed, is there a word about Korea. The Memorialists complain in their letter of the delay of the Government in taking steps for the establishment of representative institutions. One of the objects of the Iwakura Mission was, it is pointed out, to gain information for this purpose. Since its return, however, the promised measures had not been introduced. The continued withholding from the people of opportunities for public discussion had created a dangerous situation, calculated to lead to grave trouble in the country.

It will be seen from this letter that the grievance of the Ministers who resigned—with the exception of the elder Saigō—related to the question not of war with Korea, but of the establishment of some form of representative institutions, as foreshadowed in the Imperial Oath. Their quarrel with the Government was based on the view that the latter had broken its promise to take steps in the desired direction.

The Memorial was a repetition of this charge in very prolix form. It dwelt on the right of the people to a share in the direction of public affairs, and on the urgency of establishing representative institutions.

The absence of Saigō’s signature both from the letter and Memorial is not surprising. He had no sympathy with popular reforms of Western origin. His association in the act of resignation with men whose political views were so different from his own, and with whom he could have little in common except dissatisfaction with the conduct of public affairs, simply indicates the existence of a general spirit of unrest.

The answer of the Government to the memorialists was not unfavourable. They were told that the principle of an assembly to be chosen by the people was an excellent one. The question of the establishment of local assemblies must, however, take precedence, and this matter was already occupying the Government’s attention.

When discussing in a previous chapter the effects of the abolition of feudalism it was pointed out what great hardship this measure inflicted on the military class. That the _ex-samurai_, or _shizoku_, to give them their new name, should as a class be dissatisfied with the sudden change in their fortunes was not surprising. It would have been strange if they had not resented the loss of their many privileges: the superior social status they enjoyed, their permanent incomes hereditary in the family; a house and garden free of rent; exemption from all taxation; and the advantage, appreciated by so poor a class, of being able to travel at cheaper rates than other people. In the course of the inevitable reaction which followed on the accomplishment of the common object which had united the Western clans, and which, it should not be forgotten, was the work of the military class, there was ample occasion for the _shizoku_ to realize all that they had lost by the disappearance of feudalism. The haste, too, with which the new Government had embarked in their course of reform, copied from abroad, gave umbrage to the conservatives in that class who still outnumbered those who were in favour of progress. Nor was the engagement of foreigners, whose services were indispensable in the execution of these reforms, less unwelcome. The foreign experts needed were drawn from various countries. The assistance of France was invoked for the army, and for legal reforms; that of Germany for the army and for medical science; that of Great Britain for the navy, for railway construction, telegraphs and lighthouses, as well as for technical instruction in engineering; Americans were called in to help in the matter of education and in agriculture; while experts from Italy and Holland acted as advisers on questions concerning silk culture and embankments.

Speaking of the craze for imitating the West which prevailed at this period, the _History of Japan_, compiled under official direction for the Chicago Exposition of 1893, says: “During the early years of the Meiji era any knowledge, however slight, of Western science was regarded as a qualification for official employment. Students who had shown themselves intelligent were sent to Europe and America to inspect and report on the conditions existing there, and, as each of these travellers found something new to endorse and import, the mania for Occidental innovations constantly increased. To preserve or revere old customs and fashions was regarded with contempt, and so far did the fancy run that some gravely entertained the project of abolishing the Japanese language, and substituting English for it.”

Captain Brinkley, a friendly critic, in his _History of Japan_ confirms this statement. “In short,” he says, “the Japanese undertook in the most lighthearted manner possible to dress themselves in clothes such as they had never worn before, and which had been made to fit other people. The spectacle looked strange enough to justify the apprehensions of foreign critics who asked whether it was possible that so many novelties should be successfully assimilated, or that a nation should adapt itself to systems planned by a motley band of aliens who knew nothing of its characters or customs.”

Nevertheless, in many respects the inner life of the people remained unaffected by the Western innovations so eagerly adopted. The nation was not called upon to make such sweeping sacrifices as appearances suggested. But the dissatisfied conservative of the former military class who watched the rapid progress of reform in the hands of enthusiastic reformers was not likely to make any fine discriminations; nor was it surprising if the zeal he witnessed, and perhaps also the employment of unwelcome foreigners at what to him seemed extravagant salaries, served to increase his dissatisfaction with the new order of things.

In January, 1874, a few days after the presentation of the Memorial above mentioned, the smouldering discontent burst into flame. Itō Shimpei, one of the memorialists, who had retired to Saga, the chief town in his native province of Hizen, collected there a considerable body of disaffected _shizoku_ and made a successful raid on the prefectural offices. The Government quickly despatched troops against the rebels. Driven out of the town, they fled to Satsuma, hoping to receive assistance from Saigō. No aid, however, was forthcoming from this quarter, and Itō and the other insurgent leaders were arrested and executed.

The Hizen insurrection, and the existence of much discontent throughout the country, which showed itself, among other incidents, in the attempted assassination of Iwakura, suggested the advisability of finding some outlet for the mischievous energies of the disbanded _samurai_, and of diverting their attention from home politics. At this moment there arose an unlooked-for difficulty in connection with Loochoo, which furnished the desired opportunity.

Loochoo will be remembered as the place which Perry made his base of operations before negotiating the Treaty of 1853. The principality—for in those days there was a prince to whom his own subjects, the Chinese, and even the Japanese, gave the title of King—consisted of the large island of Okinawa and nine outlying groups which are situated some two hundred miles south of Japan, according to the latter’s geographical limits at that time. By a curious “Box and Cox” sort of arrangement, which lent itself to the relations then existing between Loochoo and her more powerful neighbours, and seems to have had the tacit sanction of each suzerain, the principality regarded itself as a dependency of both China and Japan, paying tribute to each as its “parents,” in the phraseology of the day. The payment of tribute to China dated from the fourteenth century; that to Japan from the beginning of the seventeenth, when the islands were conquered by the Satsuma clan. In the winter of 1872–3 some Loochooans who were shipwrecked on the coast of Formosa (then a part of China) had met with ill-treatment at the hands of savages in that island. When news of the outrage reached Japan, which was not for some months, the Japanese Government made representations at Peking. As the Chinese authorities refused to accept responsibility for the acts of the savages, an expedition was fitted out in Japan in May, 1894, with the object of exacting reparation from the offending tribe. General Saigō Tsugumichi, the younger brother of the ex-Councillor of State, from whom he was distinguished by his progressive views, was placed in command of the Japanese forces, which consisted of some three thousand men. China retaliated by sending troops of her own to Formosa, and for a time there was every prospect of a collision. The difficulty was eventually settled through the intervention of the British Minister at Peking. The Chinese Government agreed to pay an indemnity, and the expedition returned to Japan after an absence of six months.

The dispute with China over Loochoo was thus settled for the time being, but a few years later, in 1879, when Japan formally annexed the islands and the King was removed to Tōkiō, the Chinese Government impugned her action on the ground that Loochoo was a tributary state owing allegiance to China. The incident became the subject of lengthy discussion between Peking and Tōkiō, in the course of which the advice of General Grant, ex-President of the United States, who was then visiting Japan, is said to have been sought by Japanese Ministers; but in the end the matter was allowed to drop without any definite understanding being arrived at.

The difficulty with Korea, which had been the ostensible cause of the first rupture in the new Government, was also settled by a show of force without recourse to actual hostilities. In the summer of 1875 a Japanese surveying vessel was fired at whilst surveying the river leading to the Korean capital. General (later Count) Kuroda and Mr. (afterwards Marquis) Inouyé, who was a native of Chōshiū, were sent with ships of war to demand satisfaction. The Korean Government offered apologies, and the envoys concluded a Treaty which opened two Korean ports to Japanese trade.

An incident in Japan’s foreign relations occurring about this time, which calls for passing notice, is the arrangement made with Russia in regard to Saghalien. In the Treaty of 1858 between Russia and Japan the island was declared to be a joint possession of the two Powers. The Tokugawa Government subsequently proposed the 50th parallel of north latitude as the boundary between the two countries, but no final decision was arrived at. After the Restoration the Japanese Government reopened negotiations on the subject through the medium of the United States, proposing the same boundary. The Russian Government, however, would not accept this solution of the difficulty. Eventually the two Powers concluded an agreement at the Russian capital by which Russia gave the Kurile islands, to which her claim was doubtful, to Japan in exchange for Saghalien.

Neither the Formosan expedition, nor the resolute measures taken in regard to Korea, had any salutary effect upon the general discontent amongst the _shizoku_, the pacific settlement of both matters having frustrated any hopes which might have been formed of military employment in a foreign campaign. The settlement of the Korean question was denounced as a weak surrender, and the Ministry were condemned for making a Treaty on a footing of equality with a country which acknowledged the suzerainty of China, thus compromising the dignity of Japan. Nor, in spite of the appointment of prominent Satsuma men to the chief command of each expedition, and the inclusion of the Satsuma noble Shimadzu in the Government in the high position of _Sadaijin_, or second Minister of State, was there any improvement in the attitude of the clan.

In the course of 1876 there were two other risings, both promptly suppressed, in Chōshiū and Higo, and by this time the state of affairs in Satsuma caused great anxiety to the Government. The tone of semi-independence assumed, as has already been pointed out, by that clan during the Tokugawa rule was maintained after the Restoration. In other provinces the work of administrative unification had progressed quickly and smoothly, local officials being now frequently chosen from other parts of the country. But in Satsuma there was a refusal to accept any official who was not a native of the province. Some comfort there might be for the Government in the fact that the clan had abstained from making common cause with the rebellious clansmen in other provinces, and that the relations between the two chief leaders, Shimadzu and the elder Saigō, continued to be strained. But these considerations were outweighed by others.

Of all the measures introduced, or contemplated, by the new Government, those to which the strongest objection was felt by the _shizoku_ everywhere were the establishment of conscription, the compulsory commutation of pensions, and the prohibition of the practice of wearing swords. The last of these measures came into force in January, 1877. That conscription should be viewed with disfavour by the former military class was only natural, if only for the reason that its adoption by opening a military career to all classes of the nation offended ancient prejudices, besides being a death-blow to any hope entertained by reactionary clansmen of reviving feudalism. The commutation of pensions had, as we have seen, been arranged in 1871, when feudalism was abolished. But the system then introduced was voluntary. Now it was made compulsory. Occurring when it did, it provoked resentment. The wearing of swords had also at the same date been made optional. The prohibition now enforced mattered little to the _shizoku_ of the towns, many of whom had welcomed the opportunity of relinquishing a custom not without inconvenience to town-dwellers, and offering no longer any advantage. But to those in the provinces, with whose traditions and habits the wearing of swords was intimately associated, the change was most distasteful. It was, moreover, precisely in Satsuma and one or two neighbouring clans that the option of not wearing swords had been availed of least. To the Satsuma malcontents, whose military preparations included sword exercise, it might well appear that the prohibition was aimed specially at them.